The Librarian – Part 6

Tears still running down his face, Daniel slowly walked up to Peter. “I’m not a liar, but I did break my promise. Please forgive me for that,” he quietly asked, barely looking at him. Too much was happening at once, and his mind was almost numb.

“Cheating bitch,” Peter hissed, the anger and jealousy evident in his voice. Daniel didn’t even feel the pain intended by the insult. He looked directly at him now, fixing on those honey sparkles he always found so alluring. “We just said good-bye, that’s all. He’s gone, Peter … forever.” Daniel walked past him into the house and closed the door, throwing the deadbolt.

Peter sat motionless on the cold steps, wrapped in his own possessiveness. He had heard the lock slam shut, clearly meant to keep him out. Slowly, Peter began to rock himself, knowing that he had asked too much, and wondering if he had just shattered the love Daniel was willing to share with him. Yet, the anger continued to seethe within him.

Once inside, Daniel took off his boots and coat, then went upstairs and started to run hot water into the bathtub. He’d showered since forever, but now felt the need for a soaking, hot bath. His eyes streaming with tears, he went into his room and slowly peeled off his clothes.

It was almost painful. Daniel wanted Carter to be doing this, remembering how teasingly he had opened his Christmas present. The slow, deliberate taking away of his shirt, but ripping his tee apart, still made Daniel shudder. At the same time, however, he wished that Peter was stripping them away, calling him a dick-licker as he did so.

Now naked, Daniel turned off the water, and settled into the tub, feeling the hot water surround his chilled body. It reminded him of a time long ago when his mother, and sometimes his father, used to bathe him. He took a bar of soap and began to lather himself, starting with his face.

Daniel wanted those tears washed away first, and slowly ran his soapy hands over his cheeks. All of the significant things he had experienced in life were tumbling through his mind at once. “I lose my dad, mom has to work every shift on the planet, I’m gay, fall in love with a librarian who just said that he loves me but won’t return, and now locked out the person I also love, yet probably can’t forgive me.”

He didn’t know how to resume his relationship with Peter, or if it was even possible. If so, what direction would it take? The decision was now Peter’s, not his.

Lost in thought, the water cooled enough to bring him to his senses. Shivering a bit, Daniel realized that his mother was due home from work soon. Working an odd schedule, she always relied upon him to help prepare dinner, and he often cooked his own meals. Daniel rinsed himself off and drained the tub. After quickly drying himself with a thick towel, he slipped into clean, white briefs, thermal socks and a set of gray sweat pants and shirt.

Daniel ran downstairs and opened the refrigerator. Not much to be found; a bit of left-over chicken, two eggs, and a small piece of onion. He quickly worked that into a simple omelet as he heard his mother’s car pull into the driveway.

Entering through the back door, she kicked off her shoes, then called for him, as usual. “Daniel! I’m home,” taking in the delicious aroma that filled the kitchen. Daniel knew his mother’s routine, and stood by the stove, making sure the egg dish wasn’t over-cooked. She quickly went to her room and took off the blue scrubs she usually wore, and returned wearing a comfortable, loose-fitting flannel robe.

She walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face, and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he flipped the omelet onto a plate. Kissing his neck, she softly cooed “you’re just too good to me,” then sat down at the table. Daniel proudly set the plate in front of her, along with a fork. As she began to eat, he ran a sink of hot water with dish-washing liquid.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” his mother asked between bites. “No, I’m not hungry,” he said, washing the pan and spatula, setting them in the rack to dry. Hesitantly, he asked, “mom, could we look at some of dad’s stuff tonight? I mean, just look at it.” She finished her meal and put the dish and fork into the water, feeling that something wasn’t right.

Daniel washed the single plate and fork, and put them into the drying rack, then went into the living room and sat down on the couch. His mother sat next to him, and he cuddled into her. “Why do you want to look at that now?” she asked. “Well, it’s just been a long time, and I was thinking of him today. I don’t really know why,” Daniel replied.

He was lying to her.

She said, “okay, but you know there isn’t much to see.” “I know,” he said. His mother got up and went into her bedroom, Daniel starting to follow. “No, just stay there,” she directed, growing a bit concerned. He returned to the couch and waited, his mind spinning, a plan beginning to form.

His mother returned with a cardboard box and sat down next to him. Daniel rested his head against her shoulder as she slowly opened it. Atop the contents was a portrait of his father in his police uniform, black ribbon draped across the corner of the glass and metal frame. It had been given to them by the town authorities after he was killed. Small compensation, but it was the best they could do.

They said nothing, yet both instinctively ran their hands across it, gently touching his face with their fingertips.

She took it out and set it aside, revealing a dark blue uniform shirt with the badge he always wore.