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“Death wish is a strong choice of words,” I said airily. “I prefer to think that life and I are keeping things casual. No need to get serious.”
My last refuge was the shop, fixing something broken and making it work again. I wished there were something—or someone—who could do the same for me.
“Tell me something, River Whitmore…” Light flared as he lit his zippo. His eyes bored into mine, seeing through me as if I were made of cellophane. “Aside from me…who else knows you’re gay?”
“As far as I can tell, it just means the nonstop thoughts in my head are more cunning and can torment me in multiple languages.”
“The problem is that the guy in question is not my type, to put it mildly. An All-American good boy. Warm, gooey, everyone loves him. He’s the human equivalent of a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“The thrill of it, mostly. And because I’ve only ever lived in a house and don’t know what a home looks like. And yours, River, is the homiest home to ever home.”
Our song. Nothing was ours. There was no us. But Miller sang that if you never try, you’ll never know, and the words pierced me like arrows.
“Have you ever been in love, James?” “Yes, sir.” “What’s it like?” “The sweetest agony. A torture from which you never want to escape.” “Sounds terrible.”
“It’s like skiing down a mountain. You’re scared shitless, dodging moguls, the wind whipping through your hair, and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Before you realize it, you’re at the bottom and you don’t remember the fear. Only the exhilaration.”
“His eyes are an alcoholic’s memoir without the wisdom of having hit rock bottom. He’s still falling.”
“É fácil amar você, meu doce menino. Mas você tem que se deixar ser amado.”
It’s easy to love you, my sweet boy. But you have to let it in.
“I love you, Holden. That’s real. It’s the most fucking real thing I’ll ever know.”
It’s that goddamn conversion therapy, Holden. Every goddamn word of it was bullshit.” “Logically, I know that. But it goes deeper than thought. What they did…it burrows down into the marrow of your bones so that you’re cold even when the sun is shining.” I blinked hard. “So when the person you love says he loves you too, the first inclination is to call him a liar. Your second is to run away. Your third is to fuck someone else. And your fourth is to drink and make it all go away.”
And that’s not why I came here. I came to tell you that even thousands of miles away, I’m still here for you. I can’t make you believe me when I say that I love you, but I do. I think you love me too, and when you come back to me, I’ll be waiting.
“When you go down into the abyss,” I answered, “you come back out with something to say.”
“I never told him,” I said in a broken whisper. “He told me he loved me, and I never said it back. Not where he could hear it.” “Go to wherever he is, and you just say it.” “Because it’s that easy.” “No, it’s scary as shit,” Silas said. “But damn, Holden. Think of what could be waiting for you on the other side.”
“Look at us,” I said. “Two idiot billionaires fighting over who gets to pick up a thirty-dollar tab. When the revolution comes, they’re going to hang us first.”
Finally, Holden raised his head, hair tousled, eyes shining. “I’m about to say something extremely emotional and honest. Don’t hold it against me.” “You can say anything to me.” He swallowed hard. “Thank you for loving me when I didn’t.”
“Thank you for giving me back to myself,” I said, tears in my own eyes. “And I’m sorry.” “For what?” “When you left, I thought the loneliness would kill me. But I realized today at the Shack that I’d made you lonely, too. I made you lonely while we were still together, when my stupid fears and self-doubt kept us in hiding. I’m so sorry for that, Holden. You deserve to be loved out loud.”
“I love you, Holden. I love your humor and wit. I love how you’re always the best-dressed person in a room. And the smartest. I love how you’d give away every penny of your wealth to someone you love without hesitation. I love how you give it away to strangers. You’ve been through hell and I love how hard you fight, every day. You’ve lost so much…” I say, and I know he understands I mean what his parents did to him, “…and I don’t have much to give, but I can give you my name. If you’ll have it.”
