Ten Below Zero(60)

“Ah!” I yelled out. He thrust again and again. He kissed my entire face with each thrust, moving down the column of my neck. His hands were on my thighs wrapped around his waist. He reached to the undersides of my thighs and dug his fingers in, lifting them up until the tops of my thighs were touching my shirt, completely pinning me to the wall with my knees at my chest. And then he thrust harder, faster.

“Let it go, Parker,” he said, leaning in with his lips on my neck. He nipped my neck softly, but it was just enough to drive me over the edge. I heard his grunts as he followed closing behind my climax, and then we both slid down the wall to the floor.

Everett had laid on his back, one hand over his eyes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly from exertion.

I was still leaning against the wall, my tank top slipping over my shoulder. I stared at Everett in a daze. My eyes found his tattoo again.

“This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us,” I whispered.

Everett removed his arm from his eyes and looked at me with just one eye open. “That wasn’t sweet,” he said hoarsely. “That was passion.” He sighed and sat up slowly, one hand on his head.

“Are you okay?”

He shook his head and stood up, holding on to the doorway to the bathroom as if he was dizzy. It hurt, to see him weakened. And I knew, by the look on his face, he didn’t want to be seen that way.”

“Fine,” he said. He reached his hands down to me and I took them, standing up with him. “Let’s shower and go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Sit, I’ll start the water and grab our toiletries.” I led him to the toilet and put the lid down, helping him sit.

He looked up at me, his eyes a little lost. And the crack, the one that had started earlier that morning at his indifference towards me, broke a little more. I didn’t think there was anything left to break.

I grabbed the toiletries and returned to the bathroom, seeing him look wearier. Minute by minute, he was fading. So I turned on the water and waited for it to get hot enough, and then I helped him into the shower with me.

The water seemed to rouse him a bit and we took turns shampooing each other’s hair. I loaded a loofa up with his body wash and started first on his back. “Will you tell me about your tattoos?” I asked, rubbing the loofa over each of his muscles. My hand traced the tree with its twisted branches that wrapped around his lower torso.

“The tree was something I got shortly after I was in remission. The roots are straight, because that’s how we all start out in life. All babies are innocent. Your roots are straight. And then once you first loose some of that innocence, when you emerge through the earth, you are changed. For a tree, nature changes how it forms as it grows. Are there things in the way, does it have to grow around obstacles? Does weather strip it of its leaves in the winter? Do outside factors, like birds and squirrels, destroy the bark? Humans are very similar. Once we lose our innocence, there’s no way to predict the future, how your branches will grow. You have to go with the flow until you’re cut down.”

It hurt to swallow the lump in my throat. “Turn around,” I said, standing under the spray. He turned so I was facing his chest. “These?” I asked, running the loofa and then my fingers over the four swallows on the other side of his ribs.

“The people who matter the most to me. My mom, dad, sister, and nephew. I want them to be free.” My eyes burned. He didn’t have to say what he wanted them to be free of. I already knew.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I continued. I ran the loofa up over his chest, up his bicep to the three straight lines that wrapped his right bicep. I didn’t trust my voice so I looked up at him, trying to communicate my thoughts through my eyes.

“Those are how many times I’ve been told I have cancer. This line,” he said, pointing to the line at the bottom of the stack, “was added a couple weeks ago.”

“Three times.”

“I had cancer twice in my teenage years. The first time, it was caught early and required little treatment. The second time,” he said, touching the middle line, “was when my family fell apart.” He let his hand drop and looked at me. “Three strikes,” he said.

I was glad I was standing directly under the spray, because I didn’t want him to witness the tear that slid quickly from my eye, mixing with the water from the showerhead. I couldn’t explain it. It was more than sadness I felt. Something deeper, more poignant.

“If you want to wear all black, I won’t mind. We can strike it from the rules.”

Everett looked down at me. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “You’re the man in black. If you want to wear black, I want you to.” My leg bounced nervously.

“The man in black?” he asked. “Like Johnny Cash?”

My leg stopped its movements. “Who’s that?”

Everett shook his head. “You really have a lot of life to catch up on, sweetheart.” Before I had time to process the ache I felt at that endearment, Everett tapped the quote on his chest. “Take this for example. It’s from a song.”

“‘This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us’ is from a song?”

He nodded. “It’s by Queen. Who is probably another band you haven’t been acquainted with, so before you open your mouth, I’ll just tell you they are a rock band that formed in the 70’s. This line,” he said, running his fingers over the soapy skin of his tattoo, "is from a song called ‘Who Wants to Live Forever’.”