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.The oversize image passed straight through his eye into his gut.There had been a time when Toby went from eye to heart, or eye to cock.But today he went straight into the pit of a raw, pink stomach.“I came for my socks and underwear,” he said.“What?”“The stuff I left in the laundry.Didn’t you get my message?”“Oh.Right.Yes.The laundry came back last week.”“I forgot.Until I started running out of clean underwear.”He looked paler than Caleb remembered, blonder, almost translucent.He had his old, curious smell, half sour, half bitter, like raspberries and seawater.It was too intimate standing next to him.“Is my stuff still here? You didn’t throw it out, did you?”“Don’t be silly.Elena must’ve put your underwear in with mine when she put everything away.Come on in.We’ll find it.”Toby strolled inside, looking tougher and more confident than Caleb expected.He held his head high, indifferently gazing around at what had been his home away from home, for a few weeks anyway.“So how have you been?” said Caleb.“Busy.I’m in a play, you know.”“I remember.That thing with my sister’s friends.”“The speech you wrote me? It works great.Frank wanted us to rework it, but I refused to change a word.”“Whatever’s best for the play,” said Caleb.They came to the bedroom, as small as every other room, two-thirds of it filled with the double bed.The curtains were open.The big casement window divided the view into squares like a wall map.Caleb waved Toby in.“Underwear’s in the bottom drawer.Just go through it and pick out yours.”“You trust me with your stuff?” He looked over at Caleb with a hurt, touched, heartbroken expression.He was acting, of course.He was always acting.The trick with Toby was to figure out when he was acting out things he only pretended to feel, and when he was acting out things he really felt.Fuck it, thought Caleb.He stepped past Toby’s doggy stare, opened the drawer, and took out fat white stacks of briefs and T-shirts.He set them on the bed.“Here.Find your things.Can’t be many.I haven’t come across any yet.” They both wore briefs, but Toby’s underwear should be easy to locate.Not only was he taller and heavier, he wasted money on brands with names like “2(x)ist.”Toby sat sideways on the bed, like a lady riding sidesaddle, bending over the stacks as he went through them.Caleb stood in the doorway.“So you like living uptown?”“It’s okay.Allegra is ripping everyone off, charging us four hundred each.But nothing I can do about it, is there?”His T-shirt rode up in the back.Three little vertebrae marked the descent downward.“You’ll get to see the apartment when you come see the play.”He wore no belt.The lip of his jeans stuck out.A slim white tongue of waistband was just visible inside.“You are coming, aren’t you?”“Eventually.Not the first night, but—later.”Toby twisted to the left.The waistband slid down to the flat-boned isthmus between spine and bottom.And Caleb lunged.He grabbed Toby by the waist and threw him facedown on the bed.He shook him by his britches, shaking him out of his jeans and underpants.Toby’s ass was round and heavy like an old-fashioned medicine ball.He tried to squirm free, but Caleb pinned him from behind.He wedged his chin between the cheeks and rubbed his beard there.“Here is what I love,” he said.“This is all I ever loved.Because nothing else in you is real.” He buried his nose in the warm, mossy furrow.He pried him apart with his thumbs; he dug in with his tongue.Instantly the boy was up on his elbows, arching his back and grunting like an elephant.“Would you like a bag for those?” said Caleb.“I brought my knapsack.I’ll put them there.But thanks.”Toby continued to examine neck tags and waistbands.Caleb remained in the doorway.But yes, he could imagine violating him.Rimming or spanking or fucking him, something obscene.Except it would be like sex, and sex could be mistaken for love.And he did not love Toby.“Oh, almost forgot,” said Toby, unrolling a pair of socks and checking for holes.Only Caleb’s socks had holes.“Guess who I met?”“Who?”“Guess.”“How should I know?” Caleb sighed.“Shakespeare’s dog?”“No.But close.” Pause.“Henry Lewse.”Toby did not face Caleb but concentrated on rolling the socks back up.He seemed to be smiling.“He asked me to come see his show.Tonight.And he wants to take me to dinner afterward.”Caleb didn’t believe it.But Toby was not a good liar.So it might be true.“How nice for you,” Caleb said drily.“Where did you meet?”“He came to my class at HB and gave a talk.And I went up to him afterward and asked a few questions.”At least it wasn’t Kinko’s.Where Caleb had met Toby when he became a regular there during the rewrites of Chaos Theory.He was staring at the back of Toby’s neck, the downy white squiggles under his haircut.He is not going to make me jealous, he told himself.But Henry Lewse? Henry “the Happy Whore” Lewse? Toby was crueler than Caleb had ever imagined possible.“So that’s why you need clean underwear.For your date.”Toby snapped his head around.“What an ugly thing to say.And it’s not a date.It’s just dinner.”“I remember dinner with a playwright and where that ended.”Here, in fact, in this very room.Which was easy to forget in daylight.Or no, the curtains were wide open, the sun bright the next morning when they woke up together.Toby had shown no embarrassment over the hundred windows across the way, like a wall of eyes, and what the neighbors might think of two nude men in this airborne display case.He had actually seemed proud to be seen naked with Caleb by a city that might or might not be looking—a surprising attitude for an earnest, wholesome kid from Wisconsin.It was Caleb who wrapped himself in a blanket while Toby stretched and smiled and stood at the window.The room suddenly felt as bleak and empty as a crime scene.Toby said nothing but sat very still with his back to Caleb.He stuffed his underwear into his knapsack.“I’m finished,” he said.“I should let you get back to work.”Caleb wanted him to go—out of this bedroom, out of his life.But not yet.“I’m not working on anything,” he confessed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The oversize image passed straight through his eye into his gut.There had been a time when Toby went from eye to heart, or eye to cock.But today he went straight into the pit of a raw, pink stomach.“I came for my socks and underwear,” he said.“What?”“The stuff I left in the laundry.Didn’t you get my message?”“Oh.Right.Yes.The laundry came back last week.”“I forgot.Until I started running out of clean underwear.”He looked paler than Caleb remembered, blonder, almost translucent.He had his old, curious smell, half sour, half bitter, like raspberries and seawater.It was too intimate standing next to him.“Is my stuff still here? You didn’t throw it out, did you?”“Don’t be silly.Elena must’ve put your underwear in with mine when she put everything away.Come on in.We’ll find it.”Toby strolled inside, looking tougher and more confident than Caleb expected.He held his head high, indifferently gazing around at what had been his home away from home, for a few weeks anyway.“So how have you been?” said Caleb.“Busy.I’m in a play, you know.”“I remember.That thing with my sister’s friends.”“The speech you wrote me? It works great.Frank wanted us to rework it, but I refused to change a word.”“Whatever’s best for the play,” said Caleb.They came to the bedroom, as small as every other room, two-thirds of it filled with the double bed.The curtains were open.The big casement window divided the view into squares like a wall map.Caleb waved Toby in.“Underwear’s in the bottom drawer.Just go through it and pick out yours.”“You trust me with your stuff?” He looked over at Caleb with a hurt, touched, heartbroken expression.He was acting, of course.He was always acting.The trick with Toby was to figure out when he was acting out things he only pretended to feel, and when he was acting out things he really felt.Fuck it, thought Caleb.He stepped past Toby’s doggy stare, opened the drawer, and took out fat white stacks of briefs and T-shirts.He set them on the bed.“Here.Find your things.Can’t be many.I haven’t come across any yet.” They both wore briefs, but Toby’s underwear should be easy to locate.Not only was he taller and heavier, he wasted money on brands with names like “2(x)ist.”Toby sat sideways on the bed, like a lady riding sidesaddle, bending over the stacks as he went through them.Caleb stood in the doorway.“So you like living uptown?”“It’s okay.Allegra is ripping everyone off, charging us four hundred each.But nothing I can do about it, is there?”His T-shirt rode up in the back.Three little vertebrae marked the descent downward.“You’ll get to see the apartment when you come see the play.”He wore no belt.The lip of his jeans stuck out.A slim white tongue of waistband was just visible inside.“You are coming, aren’t you?”“Eventually.Not the first night, but—later.”Toby twisted to the left.The waistband slid down to the flat-boned isthmus between spine and bottom.And Caleb lunged.He grabbed Toby by the waist and threw him facedown on the bed.He shook him by his britches, shaking him out of his jeans and underpants.Toby’s ass was round and heavy like an old-fashioned medicine ball.He tried to squirm free, but Caleb pinned him from behind.He wedged his chin between the cheeks and rubbed his beard there.“Here is what I love,” he said.“This is all I ever loved.Because nothing else in you is real.” He buried his nose in the warm, mossy furrow.He pried him apart with his thumbs; he dug in with his tongue.Instantly the boy was up on his elbows, arching his back and grunting like an elephant.“Would you like a bag for those?” said Caleb.“I brought my knapsack.I’ll put them there.But thanks.”Toby continued to examine neck tags and waistbands.Caleb remained in the doorway.But yes, he could imagine violating him.Rimming or spanking or fucking him, something obscene.Except it would be like sex, and sex could be mistaken for love.And he did not love Toby.“Oh, almost forgot,” said Toby, unrolling a pair of socks and checking for holes.Only Caleb’s socks had holes.“Guess who I met?”“Who?”“Guess.”“How should I know?” Caleb sighed.“Shakespeare’s dog?”“No.But close.” Pause.“Henry Lewse.”Toby did not face Caleb but concentrated on rolling the socks back up.He seemed to be smiling.“He asked me to come see his show.Tonight.And he wants to take me to dinner afterward.”Caleb didn’t believe it.But Toby was not a good liar.So it might be true.“How nice for you,” Caleb said drily.“Where did you meet?”“He came to my class at HB and gave a talk.And I went up to him afterward and asked a few questions.”At least it wasn’t Kinko’s.Where Caleb had met Toby when he became a regular there during the rewrites of Chaos Theory.He was staring at the back of Toby’s neck, the downy white squiggles under his haircut.He is not going to make me jealous, he told himself.But Henry Lewse? Henry “the Happy Whore” Lewse? Toby was crueler than Caleb had ever imagined possible.“So that’s why you need clean underwear.For your date.”Toby snapped his head around.“What an ugly thing to say.And it’s not a date.It’s just dinner.”“I remember dinner with a playwright and where that ended.”Here, in fact, in this very room.Which was easy to forget in daylight.Or no, the curtains were wide open, the sun bright the next morning when they woke up together.Toby had shown no embarrassment over the hundred windows across the way, like a wall of eyes, and what the neighbors might think of two nude men in this airborne display case.He had actually seemed proud to be seen naked with Caleb by a city that might or might not be looking—a surprising attitude for an earnest, wholesome kid from Wisconsin.It was Caleb who wrapped himself in a blanket while Toby stretched and smiled and stood at the window.The room suddenly felt as bleak and empty as a crime scene.Toby said nothing but sat very still with his back to Caleb.He stuffed his underwear into his knapsack.“I’m finished,” he said.“I should let you get back to work.”Caleb wanted him to go—out of this bedroom, out of his life.But not yet.“I’m not working on anything,” he confessed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]