Vestige

Chapter Eight



The sunshine and the warm breezes were not helping the way he had expected them to. Now Caleb knew that the nightmares were not based on the tension and pressure of the city. After his episode the previous day, he now understood that they were not nightmares at all, but some kind of vision that refused to let him be. There was no escaping them, and Caleb accepted this with the finality of one who has no other choice.



Felix refused to let him leave the bed, pecking and fussing over him like a mother hen. Caleb was served his meals in bed, and when Felix was not busy stroking his forehead with a cool towel or taking his temperature (apparently, he believed that fainting from the heat was some sign of a flu), he was beside Caleb. Usually tucked into the journalist’s side, as though he couldn’t bear to be away from him. It was then that Caleb realized how far gone they truly were. It was then that he saw how desperately Felix loved and needed him; and how desperately he loved and needed the musician.



He was afraid of the feelings, but more afraid of the visions and the sudden overwhelming sense of leaving his body. Caleb had never feared the spiritual realm, had in fact, found it comforting as a child. He would often see things others could not, could often hear things others did not. The barrier between this world where he lived, and the world of the supernatural was very thin, and he knew that. He knew that if he desired, he could push through the other side. But now it seemed the other side was pushing through to him. And that had never happened before.



Vivid dreams and visions aside, he had never experienced such a transcendental moment. He had never felt the fabric of reality trembling in his hands.



He could not tell Felix about it. The man seemed rooted in reality; an unchained spirit perhaps, but a man who believed in the ground beneath his feet and the blue sky above his head. Caleb had noted the St. Christopher’s medallion around his throat, and thought Felix might have some kind of faith in God. But a faith in God did not translate to a faith in the supernatural. Caleb could not broach the subject, felt it best to just forget he had ever seen the strange vision.



But he knew that would not be the last of them. He knew that he could not escape them. But he was ready to ignore them as best as he could.



Felix wanted to stay, he knew that even before the man expressed to him how much he was enjoying the vacation. Caleb extended it for three more days. In those three days, they wandered the beach and made love in the sand, and once more the nightmares and visions remained nothing more than uneasy memories.



On the plane ride back to the city, Felix napped, and Caleb watched the world cruise by beneath him. He was sure that he could feel the city pulling him back, almost with a low, dreamy sigh. The city of his father; Caleb supposed he could no more escape the place than he could the dreams.



For some reason, his mind did not worry the visions as he had expected. Instead, it drifted to thoughts of his father. He thought of him on the day he had announced he was switching from a business major to a journalism major. Michael Bennett had possessed eyes that could freeze even the strongest man. And he had turned these on his son, chips of blue ice that had stabbed into Caleb’s heart like daggers. And he had spoken only five words to him, actually, the last five words he had ever spoken to him. “Get out of my house.”



Caleb tried to think of a time where his father had ever looked at him without that mixture of anger and disappointment, and could not. There had always been a barrier between them, erected out of Michael’s disappointment and Caleb’s disobedience. Dorothy had been the mediator between them, had kept them at a safe distance from one another. After he had protested his father’s company, and initiated a massive boycott, Dorothy had been the one to keep Michael from wringing Caleb’s neck.



“He’s your father, Caleb,” she had told him later, as sounds of the man’s fuming came down from overhead. “He’s not perfect, and he never will be. But neither are you; don’t hide behind your sense of social justice. You did this to purposefully antagonize him.”



And she had been right. Caleb had been looking for a way to hurt the man, to cut him as deep and as ragged as he himself had been cut. And pioneering as a champion of social justice had been the perfect alibi for his actions. Dorothy had expected him to feel some shame with himself, some sense of damaged pride, but all Caleb had felt was mean glee.



But it was difficult for him not to feel so petty and vindictive. Perhaps he would have felt different if Michael had been something to him. A father, a friend, even a tyrant. But the truth of the matter had been that Michael had been nothing to him. He had treated his children as inconveniences, had ignored them, and on the occasions where he had been forced to interact with them, it had been cool and perfunctory.



“He loves you,” Dorothy had explained to him, time and time again. But there had been a sorrow in her eyes, an oldness to her face. She had known as well as Caleb did, that that simply wasn’t true. But she had repeated the words, more to ease her own feelings of abandonment and resentment. Caleb had found a deep anger for his father for that, on Dorothy’s behalf. As a sister, she was critical and frigid. But as a woman, Caleb had found intense warmth in her. He had seen the frailty of her, and it had broken his heart.



Michael had been the one to steal her warmth, and Caleb could recognize that now. Not only had Dorothy been trapped in the role of motherhood, she had been pigeon-holed into striving for unrealistic goals. Michael had fed her instructions on how to reach perfection. She was to be nothing more than a servant to a man. She was to be silent, be respectful, be obliging. And Dorothy had followed his instructions perfectly.



Caleb thought of her, living in that big city, standing around with her fading beauty. She reminded him of some old Broadway actress, who is rapidly approaching her curtain call. Her smile to him was beginning to look strained, her eyes haggard and desperate, the bounce in her step beginning to dissipate. Caleb could sense a change coming in her; perhaps a liberation. Her husband was just like their father, cold and distant, intense only with work and money. And Caleb thought that Dorothy was realizing that.



Her life had been an endless string of debutant balls and swanky condominiums. Caleb thought that money ruled her life; but he could see now that what ruled Dorothy was a longing for something warm and real. Someone that she could touch and make fire with.



Caleb felt Felix shift against his shoulder, and was snapped from his thoughts. He looked into his dark eyes, filled now with golden sunlight, and smiled as he pushed a lock of hair behind his lover’s ear. “Ah, how long was I asleep?”



“About an hour.”



“Mierda, an hour,” Felix scoffed playfully, “Don’t lie to me, lover.”



Caleb laughed and showed Felix the time on his watch. “One hour,” he said, indicating the reality by tapping the face with his nail.



Felix smirked and rubbed at his stubbled face with his palm. “Well, I’ve always been fond of cat naps.” He studied Caleb’s drawn face, the dark shadows under his eyes, and peered at him seriously. “Did you not get any sleep?”



“Not really,” Caleb murmured, “Got a lot on my mind.”



“Bullshit,” Felix told him pointedly, but there was concern hiding under his sharpness. “You’re still not feeling well and you can’t admit it.”



“Maybe.”



“When we get home, I’m putting you to bed and staking you out,” Felix continued, poking Caleb’s chest. “I’m going to watch your butt sleep. I don’t care if I have to sit up with a thermos of coffee all night.”



Caleb couldn’t help but chuckle. “You sound like a cop. Maybe you should use handcuffs.”



Felix’s eyes softened, and his jabbing finger briefly brushed over Caleb’s collar, tickling his skin. “If I get handcuffs on you, I doubt there’d be much sleeping.”



“Mood swings,” Caleb murmured with a blush.



“I worry about you,” Felix said gently, curling his fingers in Caleb’s hair, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek. “A lot, Caleb.”



Caleb closed his eyes, blaming the sudden wetness at his eyes on his lack of sleep. “You don’t have to worry about me, baby. I’m fine, really. Being with you like this… It’s been wonderful for me. Not just this vacation, but every day since we’ve met. I’ve never enjoyed someone as much as you.”



Felix chuckled and rested his head on Caleb’s shoulder. “I hope you’re not done enjoying me yet, amante.”



“No,” Caleb whispered, tipping his face into Felix’s hair. “Not even close.”











Caleb stepped into his apartment the only thing changed. His skin was still pink with a fading sunburn, his sneakers filled with sand, his eyes and body heavy from jet lag. Felix, in typical fashion, was resplendent as he entered the apartment. He wanted to go dancing, he suddenly exclaimed, before Caleb had even set down his suitcase. The blonde smiled and shook his head, pointing first at the blank legal pad left on his coffee table, and then to the bedroom, where his bed and fluffy pillows seemed to be growing voices, calling to him.



Felix wandered into the kitchen and snagged two beers, tossing one to Caleb, before the blonde wandered over to his phone. He made two phone calls, one to his work, where he explained his absence and begged for and was granted forgiveness. The other call was placed to his sister, and he caught the machine. “Dotty, call me later.” He thought of saying more, but decided he should leave it brief. Her husband was liable to hear the message, and Caleb did not think it was any of his business. Dorothy would undoubtedly agree. “’Bye.”



“Your sister,” Felix murmured from the sofa, taking a thoughtful sip of beer and leaning his head back. “She means a lot to you.”



“Yeah, I guess so. She’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”



Felix shrugged a shoulder and offered a crooked smile. “Aren’t we all, honey.”



Caleb plopped down beside his lover and sighed heavily. “Yeah, sure, but she’s a strange woman. I can’t figure her out at all.”



“Women are fascinating, complex creatures,” Felix said mystically, ruining the mystique as he quickly downed the rest of his beer and burped. “Men are simple. Eat, sleep, fuck. Women, though.” He spread his hands.



“Are we that simple?”



“On the surface,” Felix murmured. “Everyone is that simple. You choose to see deeper into your sister. I’m proud of you.”



“Fuck off, Felix.”



Felix set his empty bottle aside and snatched Caleb’s still unopened beer from his hand, setting it on the table. “With a mouth like that, you must be tired. Didn’t I say I’d put you to bed when we got back?”



“I have a lot of work to do,” Caleb insisted weakly, sweeping his hand in the direction of his blank legal pad.



“Ah, ah,” Felix denied, dragging Caleb up and into the bedroom. “No excuses. You need your sleep to keep your mind sharp, or you’ll never get any work done.”



“Felix,” Caleb sighed, as his lover unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it from his shoulders, hands shifting to unzip his jeans. “Really… I should…”



Felix looked up at him, his black eyes going serious and stern. “You should sleep,” he said, “And you will. No more arguing, Caleb Bennett.”



“Fine, fine,” Caleb murmured, skin prickling as his pants dropped around his ankles. He awkwardly slipped out of his sneakers, not bothering to untie them. He laid down and looked at Felix, eyes already beginning to grow heavy. That face still sent a shiver through him, of fear and indescribable heat. So much like the face from his dreams. “Felix…”



“Sleep now,” Felix murmured, bending down to kiss his forehead.



Caleb obeyed, slipping into sleep almost instantly. Felix draped the comforter over his lover and sat at the edge of the bed, watching him for a little while. “You have to tell me the truth eventually,” Felix whispered to him, knuckles caressing Caleb’s cheek. “Sooner or later… You have to tell me the truth.”