Something Like Thunder

  Kelly’s nod was exaggerated. “Naked. You too.”

  He was feeling silly rather than horny because he wasn’t hard when Nathaniel helped him out of his underwear. That’s more than he could say for himself as he stripped down, but Kelly was too distracted to notice as they both slipped into the tub. Kelly sighed, as if feeling relief, which raised a question Nathaniel finally felt brave enough to ask. Funny how alcohol could summon courage for the person drinking, and also for those who remained sober. He could ask anything he wanted and there was a fair chance Kelly wouldn’t remember later.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Kelly looked at him, struggling to focus, but the question seemed to sober him up. Somewhat. “Stumpy? Noooo. It doesn’t hurt. I’m lucky. No phantom tingles. No pain. Not physically anyway.”

  “Emotionally?” Nathaniel asked, searching his eyes.

  Kelly took a deep breath. “You know about the accident, but what about the details? They weren’t in the newspaper. They don’t print stuff like that!”

  “Then tell me.”

  Kelly looked around, as if searching for another drink. When he couldn’t find one he sighed. “William and I weren’t a good match because he was too good and that wasn’t good.” Kelly didn’t laugh. He shook his head. Then he looked at Nathaniel with pure adoration. “You can take it. I don’t have to be some impossible ideal with you. I can be fucked up and bitchy and a mess, and you’re like this stone wall that I can’t break. I wasn’t good for William. The only good I am is damaged goods.” Kelly chuckled madly. “Damaged goods… That’s so true.”

  Nathaniel made a concerned face. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  Kelly seemed not to have heard him, his emotional pendulum swinging from manic joy to sudden sorrow. “He was breaking up with me. William. I loved him. More than anyone, and I’m sure he loved me too. I still managed to push him away. I ruined it all. It was raining and we were arguing and he said it was over. I wanted to hurt him and I guess I did because he turned the wheel and—” Kelly’s voice squeaked. “You can’t kill love. Not that way. It didn’t change how I feel. It should have, but it didn’t.”

  Nathaniel couldn’t reassure him otherwise. He knew Kelly was right. People hurt you—the ones most capable of doing so—because you love them and they love you. They hurt you deeper and more permanently than anyone else can, and it doesn’t change a damn thing. You keep on loving them, even if you leave.

  “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Kelly mumbled. Then he pantomimed peeling something and pressing it to his chest. “Band-Aid. You’re my Band-Aid.”

  Nathaniel considered him a moment. Then he laughed. Kelly flipped him off, then started laughing too. They boiled in the hot tub a little longer until Kelly started nodding off. Nathaniel made him stand. Dizzy from the heat, he still managed to carry Kelly to bed, thinking about what he had said. Damaged goods. They both were, even if Nathaniel’s wounds weren’t as visible. Perhaps that’s what made him want to take care of Kelly, to look out for him, so he wouldn’t get hurt again. Nathaniel wondered if the feeling was mutual. Maybe Kelly had the same urge. Maybe that would be enough for them to not hurt each other.

  If only.

  After convincing Kelly to take two aspirin, chug a glass of water, and lie down, Nathaniel stood to leave but found a hand still gripping his own, tethering him to the bed.

  “Time to sleep,” Kelly murmured, face half-buried in a pillow.

  “Let go,” Nathaniel said, shaking him off. But he didn’t walk away. He watched Kelly, certain he was finally sleeping just before he opened his eyes and smiled.

  “Why are you naked?”

  “The hot tub,” Nathaniel said. “Remember?”

  “Time to sleep,” Kelly answered, closing his eyes again.

  Nathaniel shook his head, then turned off the bedside lamp and slid between the sheets. Kelly made room for him, reaching out to thwack him with his hand.

  “I didn’t mean what I said,” Kelly slurred.

  “Go to sleep,” Nathaniel whispered, not having a clue what he was talking about.

  “I don’t love William more than anyone else. Only back then.”

  “That’s fine,” Nathaniel said reassuringly. “Now sleep.”

  “I love you more than him.”

  Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to respond, but too many feelings were rushing to the surface. One realization managed to rise above the chaos in the form of four simple words. He rolled them over in his mind, examining them to make sure they were true. By the time he was certain, Kelly was quietly snoring beside him. Nathaniel spoke his name aloud, just to make sure he was truly asleep. When no response came, he set the words free to fall on deaf ears.

  “I love you too.”

  * * * * *

  Being politically correct might mean not giving a shit, but being in love meant caring way too much. Nathaniel was on constant alert, making sure photographers were treating Kelly right, that he wasn’t being worked too long without adequate breaks, that he was eating and drinking and sleeping and getting everything he needed from him. Physically, at least. Kelly didn’t seem to remember his drunken confession, returning to the same unspoken agreement the next day. At work they would be professional. At night they would be together. And while travelling…

  Nathaniel found letting go easier during their trips. Kelly celebrated each success with little additions to their repertoire: holding hands during a bus ride through Dublin, stopping to kiss while crossing one of Venice’s canal bridges, hugging to stay warm while waiting for a taxi one chilly night in Milan. As long as they weren’t in Austin, they allowed themselves almost anything. Except for words, which would only divide what they had together, dissecting it into different categories and restrictions. In Nathaniel’s mind, he labeled what they shared as affection. Musicians sang about love tearing people apart, not affection ruining lives.

  He began to yearn for each trip, worrying less with each as Kelly proved himself over and over to be fully capable of handling himself. One photographer had mistakenly referred to Nathaniel as Kelly’s manager, to which he only snorted and shook his head. Nobody could manage Kelly, not even Marcello. Getting him headed in the right direction was possible, but what he would do once he got there was anyone’s guess. Kelly had taken down models who thought they could bully him and won over egotistical monsters like the Lieutenant, who even half a year later kept begging Kelly to relocate to Mexico. Most recently on his birthday.

  “Have you seen the size of this box?” Kelly said, dragging it into Nathaniel’s office, one end of it pinned beneath his arm.

  “Yes,” he said, pushing aside the ridiculously huge bouquet of flowers that the Lieutenant had also sent.

  Kelly managed to get the long box onto Nathaniel’s desk, grinning at him as he sat. “So what did you get me?”

  Nathaniel opened a drawer, then slid a flat rectangle across the desk surface.

  “It’s not very big,” Kelly pointed out. “Not by comparison. Oh wow, those flowers! Are they from you.”

  “You know they aren’t. You saw the card already.” Nathaniel glared at the bouquet, trying to get them to wilt. Kelly laughed and opened the Lieutenant’s present first. The contents were familiar. Jewel-encrusted crutches.

  “Think these are real diamonds?” Kelly asked.

  “They better not be!” Nathaniel grumped.

  Kelly laughed again and read the enclosed letter, doing his best imitation of the Lieutenant’s accent. “It pains me to give these, since they are part of myself, but you already have my heart. These will now join it. You have inspired me, my muse, and will continue to do so even from a distance. But really, Marcello can’t afford to pay you what—” Kelly stopped narrating and scanned the rest. “Same as usual,” he summarized.

  “Don’t show that to Marcello.”

  “But I love it when his face gets all red. Like a big cherry!”

  Nathaniel sighed. “Might as we
ll open mine. It can’t compete with promises of untold wealth.”

  “And fame,” Kelly said helpfully. He grabbed the present and unwrapped it. The frame was vintage, as was the content, a black-and-white photo of a man on crutches, one leg missing. The image was taken from behind; the man’s artificial leg sticking out of his backpack. He seemed to be waiting for someone, his head turned slightly to look down the railroad crossing where he stood.

  “Ernst Haas,” Nathaniel said. “He did a series on returning prisoners of war. I just thought… The image is compelling. That’s how it is whenever you’re in front of the camera, but from what you’ve shown me of your own photos—the ones you used to take—the reverse is also true. You’ve got talent. I thought about getting you a camera or something, but I know you already have one, and this seemed a better symbol. Just don’t give up. That’s all.”

  “I love it,” Kelly said, admiring the image again and chuckling a little. “Seems to be a theme this birthday. Crutches.”

  “I also got you a new cell phone, just in case this was a total bust.” Nathaniel dumped the gift onto the desk without ceremony.

  “Yay!” Kelly cried, setting down the frame and grabbing the box.

  “Considering it has a built-in camera,” Nathaniel said, “maybe the real theme is photography.”

  “Works for me!” Kelly said, grinning happily. “Now let’s go see what Marcello got me.”

  Another assignment, as it turned out, this time in Vancouver. Canada was experiencing blizzards, but the shoot was indoors so the snow didn’t matter. Not until they were hurrying from the hotel to catch their flight home when Kelly slipped on the ice and fell. No serious damage. Just a bruised knee and elbow. It could have happened to anyone, but Nathaniel brooded over it all the way home. He’d been doing research, not because he wanted to change who Kelly was or try to fix him. That wasn’t it at all. He wanted him to have the best quality of life, but it seemed disrespectful to even bring it up. Kelly had done his own research, had experience with a prosthetic, and had made his decision long ago.

  Regardless, when a woman at the Austin airport assumed Kelly was a war veteran, Nathaniel couldn’t hold back. He glared after the woman as she walked away, but Kelly took the encounter in stride.

  “That was beyond awkward,” he said. “I’m going to start wearing long flowing dresses to hide my secret shame.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about,” Nathaniel grumbled.

  “It was a joke.”

  Nathaniel turned to him. “Aren’t you sick of this?”

  “Yes,” Kelly replied. “Of course. What can I do about it? Become a scientist and develop a cure for stupidity?”

  “You’ve got options.”

  Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not doing this for kicks. The leg is gone for good.”

  “What about prosthetics?”

  “You know I already tried that. We’ve talked about this. It was uncomfortable and—”

  “—you gave up after a week. Or did you even make it that long?”

  Kelly’s lips tightened. “Tell you what, genius, why don’t I saw your leg off above the knee and we’ll see just how cozy a fiberglass shell crammed halfway up your ass feels. Then you can lecture me all day long about—”

  “Shut up.”

  “—about how easy it is to pop on a peg leg and prance around the room. And if you think I’m changing who I am because the occasional idiot mistakes me for a veteran, and because you think I’m incomplete, you can shove it up your—”

  “Kelly!” Nathaniel pleaded. “Shut. Up. Now! When have I ever said you were incomplete, or treated you as if you were helpless or anything but perfect?”

  Kelly’s nostrils flared, but he calmed down.

  “News flash,” Nathaniel continued, “I want the best for you. If you were smoking, I’d be pressuring you to quit. If you started snorting white powder, or throwing your money away, or eating fast food three times a day, I would step forward and ask you to think about what’s best for you. That’s all I’m doing right now. You tried once while in the throes of trauma. Maybe it’s worth another shot.”

  “I’m fine how I am,” Kelly said. “Except for the occasional embarrassing assumption, I’m good.”

  Nathaniel grabbed one of the suitcase handles, leaving the other where it was. “In that case, pull your own luggage.”

  Kelly snorted and did just that. Both pieces of luggage had wheels, so he could roll his along without carrying it. He was forced to yank it with each swing of his arms, and while that couldn’t be comfortable, he was managing.

  “Good,” Nathaniel said. “Now take out your phone and call your brother. We need to know if he’s picking us up.”

  Kelly paused, reaching into his coat for his phone.

  Nathaniel kept walking. “Come on, I don’t have all day. Let’s go.”

  Kelly glared defiantly and resumed walking. He pinned one crutch under an arm, freeing a hand so he could get at his phone. This forced him to hop, and with the luggage pulling on him from behind, he only managed a few steps before he stumbled.

  Nathaniel reached out to support him, feeling horrible for putting him in this situation. Seeing Kelly vulnerable made his heart ache. “What if you were on your own and about to miss your flight?” he asked. “Or worse, what if some crazy asshole is chasing after you and you need to call the police? Homophobes are cowards by nature, and if they perceive you as an easy target…”

  Kelly’s eyes were fierce as they locked with Nathaniel’s, but after a moment his features softened.

  “If anyone comes after me,” he said gently, “I’m probably faster on my crutches than I would be on a fake leg.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “It’s not just my stupid fears, and it’s not about how other people perceive you. I don’t know how to express it without it sounding trite, but there are times when I want to give the world to you. Everything good in life, I want you to have it. I think this might be one of those things.”

  Kelly sighed. “Have you done your research? Prosthetic legs are like buying a car. Past the hefty price tag, there’s maintenance and repairs when things break, and even then it won’t last forever.”

  “If money wasn’t an issue…” Nathaniel prompted.

  Kelly smirked. “There’s not going to be a fake leg under the Christmas tree next week, is there?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I, and money is always an issue.”

  “Just for the sake of argument, if it wasn’t, would you at least give it another try?”

  “Yeah,” Kelly said, “but—”

  Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Royal calling their names. Kelly’s brother being here meant a certain dog was too. Zero leapt at him from behind, causing Nathaniel to stumble forward. He got down on his knees so he could hug the squirming mutt and kiss his furry face. Being apart always reminded Nathaniel how much he loved the dog. Separation could work wonders in that regard. He would experience that soon with Kelly, who would be returning to his parents’ house, allowing them to decompress after being so close. All it would take is that one night apart, and Nathaniel would start missing him again. He glanced up. Kelly was talking with his brother, but he sensed Nathaniel’s gaze and met his eye. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, agreeing to give it one more try.

  * * * * *

  Deceit plays a part in every relationship. Lately, Nathaniel had worked hard to make sure Kelly didn’t know the truth. This new leg of his, state-of-the-art technology that they had travelled to Berlin to acquire, was a gift from Ottobock, the corporation that produced it. Kelly was taking part in a test program that Marcello’s connections had gained access to. This was the story Nathaniel had concocted, and while most of it was accurate, the truth was much more expensive. Ottobock wasn’t handing them a prosthetic leg for free. Marcello had offered to cover the expense, but Nathaniel insisted on paying because he wanted to do this for Kelly
. He also insisted that fact remain a secret. The truth might make Kelly feel obligated to wear the leg, even if he hated it, and Nathaniel certainly didn’t expect gratitude. If Kelly believed the leg hadn’t cost a thing, he could accept or reject the new prosthetic without concern.

  Nathaniel still expected a lot of bang for his buck. He needed this thing to make all of Kelly’s dreams come true, so when they reported to the Competence Center—as Ottobock called the private consulting area of its Berlin headquarters—Nathaniel refused to sit. Instead he remained standing, occasionally flexing his hands into fists. If all of the company’s claims were merely snake oil, heads would roll. That would be a shame because the German woman helping them, Inga, was very likeable.

  Yesterday she had been welcoming and patient with them. Today she was helping attach Kelly’s new prosthetic. This involved a plastic cup-shaped object that suctioned over the end of his stump. The prosthetic itself attached to this. Nathaniel had to admit it looked nice. He had done his research so wasn’t surprised, but he was glad it didn’t try to duplicate the appearance of a real leg, or resemble something the Terminator would lurch around on. Instead it was sleek and black, not unlike the guy now attached to it.

  “Ready to stand?” Inga said, rolling backward on a small stool, balancing bars to either side of her.

  This made room for Kelly, who was seated in front of her. “Okay,” he said, flashing an uncertain smile. Then he stood. That was no miracle. Nathaniel had often seen him stand without his crutches. Kelly grabbed the balancing bars for support.

  “One step at a time,” Inga said in her lightly accented English. “Don’t rush! You need to let the knee bend on its own. It knows what to do.”

  Kelly grunted, but not from effort. Nathaniel could read him well enough to recognize his impatience. He no longer held on to the balancing bars. Each of his steps seemed to take no effort at all. If Inga wasn’t standing in his way and coaching him, Kelly would probably be sprinting by now. Nathaniel had been careful not to tell him, not to get his hopes up, but this prosthetic had been designed for the military, and soldiers needed to do much more than amble around.