The Secret of Othello Read online

  “You did? Why?” Not that Steven liked Lisa. He thought she was pretty skanky sometimes. But for the sake of guy solidarity, he ought to at least look sympathetic.

  “Because she’s been seeing Carl Trost.”

  Steven frowned. “Isn’t he like twenty-four years old?”

  “Yeah,” Eddie said. “But he has a job.”

  “Tending bar.”

  Eddie shrugged. “Good tips.”

  Steven and Eddie watched a movie for a while, some old comedy that hadn’t been very funny the first time. Eddie kept checking his phones and trading text messages with someone. Steven pictured himself sitting on the same lumpy sofa five years into the future, ten years maybe, and neither of their lives would have changed. They’d grow beer bellies and lose their hair and these cushions that smelled like bad milk would just smell even worse.

  “You’ve got that look on your face,” Eddie said.

  “What look?”

  “Like you’re trying to swallow a rock.”

  Steven shrugged. “Nothing. I don’t know. We’re supposed to take the black belt test on Saturday.”

  “Yeah? That’s a good thing, right?”

  “It’s okay.” Steven didn’t want to go into the whole Aunt Riza affair. Nothing had been resolved about that. She hadn’t changed her plans and Mom and Dad wanted them to reschedule the test. Telling Sensei Mike they couldn’t make it was about the last thing that Denny or Steven wanted to do.

  Plus, the family celebration in Miami sounded like a bad idea all around. Steven liked his relatives, but everyone was going to ask about BUD/S and SEAL training and when he was going away. He would either have to lie a little, lie a lot, or admit the truth.

  He should never have lied about being accepted.

  Steven wondered if Denny would agree to go to the celebration—it was for him, after all—and let Steven go to Key West by himself.

  No, that would suck. They’d come this far together in their training and he wanted them to get their black belts together, too.

  When Eddie went to the bathroom, Steven took his phone outside and called Sensei Mike. The call went to voice mail, but he didn’t leave a message. He called Sensei Teresa instead. She was Mike’s right-hand assistant when she wasn’t running a fleet of trolleys carrying tourists around the island all day long.

  “I’m so excited about your test on Saturday!” she said, over the thumping of music and voices in some bar. “You’re going to be awesome.”

  “I hope,” Steven said. “Do you know if—”

  Teresa interrupted him. “And the surprise! I haven’t seen him this excited for a test in years.”

  Denny had mentioned something about that. Steven asked, “What kind of surprise is it?”

  “I can’t tell. Sworn to secrecy.”

  “Just one hint. Animal, rock, mineral?”

  She laughed. “None of the above. Stop pestering me and go practice your katas. And your kicks! Kicks and katas, kiddo. You’re going to do about a hundred thousand of them this weekend.”

  Steven hung up. He tilted his head up to the stars and tried to figure out exactly what kind of surprise Sensei Mike had in mind. Maybe he’d arranged to hold it somewhere other than the dojo, which was an old coffee mill. Or maybe he’d built in some extra-special challenge, like breaking planks. He worried that if they tried to reschedule the test it would be some kind of mortal insult, and they’d disappoint Sensei Mike forever.

  Or they could disappoint Mom and Dad and Aunt Riza, all because Aunt Riza hadn’t even bothered to ask them if they were free on Saturday.

  Eddie yelled through the open screen door, “You coming back in? You’re letting out all the air-conditioning.”

  Which was a joke. Eddie’s mom had a couple of different jobs, but Eddie was unemployed. They didn’t have enough money to run an air conditioner except on really hot days.

  “I’m coming,” Steven said, and went back to sit on the lumpy and sour-smelling sofa.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When he and Steven had left the Bookmine apartment, Denny had been tempted to go right over to the resort. He wanted to tell Brian about how awful dinner had been, and Aunt Riza’s refusal to move the party on Saturday, and how Denny’s parents had been totally unhelpful.

  On second thought, however, none of that would cheer Brian up. He had his own significant problems to deal with. And they were maybe broken up, or maybe not, and Denny wasn’t sure that Brian even wanted to see him.

  The idea that Brian didn’t like him anymore made Denny feel like another tremendous tree had come crashing down, and this one was suffocating him. No fire department could lift this weight. You couldn’t chain-saw someone into forgiving you.

  Steven had been headed for Eddie’s house. He dropped Denny back at the marina. As Denny walked down the dock he saw lights and heard music from the yacht club on shore. A handful of people were sitting on the deck of the Othello II, watching a baseball game on a portable television.

  “Hi, Steven,” Claire called out. “Red Sox or Rays?”

  Denny replied, “Rays. And I’m the other one. Denny.”

  “There’s two of you?” asked the cute guy nearest the TV.

  “You’re the one going to the Coast Guard Academy,” Claire said. “I heard that up at the store.”

  “Swab summer!” the cute guy said. “Good luck to you.”

  Denny wanted to go back to the Idle and mope, but it turned out that the cute guy—Jamie Harrison—had been stationed in the Navy in Groton, Connecticut, just across the river from the academy. He’d dated a cadet for a while. Harrison didn’t really look old enough to be prior military, but he’d served for four years right out of high school and then decided not to reenlist.

  “Got tired of the uniforms,” Harrison said, after Denny had come aboard and taken a seat. “And the officers. No offense, but what a bunch of stuck-up idiots.”

  Denny said, dryly, “I’ll try not to become one of those.”

  Claire either didn’t know or didn’t care that he was underage. She handed him a nice cold beer from the cooler. Denny was happy to have it. The other person on deck with them was another diver named Bud. Bud was older than Claire and Jamie both, with wire-rimmed glasses and a Red Sox baseball cap.

  “I can’t believe anyone likes the Rays,” Bud said.

  “Home state,” Denny reminded him.

  Harrison said, “Bud doesn’t believe there’s intelligent life below the Mason-Dixon Line.”

  Bud replied, “Not true. I said there were no good baseball teams below the Mason-Dixon Line.”

  Denny felt obliged to defend the Marlins, Rays, and Braves. It helped that Tampa Bay was currently beating the pants off the Red Sox. Sitting under the stars as the boat rocked gently, drinking beer and talking baseball, Denny could almost forget the problems with Brian, Aunt Riza, and the black belt test. He liked Harrison, who was frank and forthright and obviously more than a little interested in Claire, who pretended to know nothing about the game. She kept asking Bud when the touchdowns would be coming or who the quarterback was.

  “You kill me, Irish Springs,” Bud said, and dug more beer out of the cooler.

  During a commercial Claire said, “Denny, if you’re going away in three weeks, why aren’t you spending tonight with a special girl? Time’s short.”

  “It’s not like you’re going to have time to date for the next few months,” Harrison put in. “My friend never had a moment to herself as a swab, and it didn’t get much better her first year.”

  “It’s okay,” Denny said. “We’re…on a break, I think. Kind of.”

  Claire’s face lit up. Her gaze was slightly unfocused from the alcohol. “Did you cheat on her?”

  “No,” Denny swore.

  “Forget her birthday?” Bud asked.

  “No.”

  Harrison asked, “Didn’t make her feel special enough? Because sometimes we forget to tell them.”

  He was gazing at Claire as he sai
d it. She ducked her gaze and smiled.

  Denny said, “Maybe that’s it.”

  “Take her somewhere special,” Bud said. “Nice romantic evening and a nice hotel room. What are we, an hour from Key West?”

  Denny kept his eyes on the game. But inwardly he thought, Yeah, Key West, and if there was ever a place to be public and private at the same time, it had to be at one of the resorts that catered to gay tourists. He should have thought of it earlier.

  But Brian might not want to leave his mom, not with everything going on right now.

  Denny sighed and drank some more beer. He barely had the energy to celebrate when Tampa Bay won. Bud was still moaning over it when Steven returned from Eddie’s house. Steven seemed surprised to see Denny sitting on the deck of the Othello II.

  “Hello, Steven!” Claire said. “You missed the game!”

  “Terrible game,” Bud added.

  Denny said, “Because Florida won.”

  “Of course Florida won,” Steven said.

  Harrison snapped off the TV. “So there really are two of you. Are you going to the Coast Guard Academy like your brother?”

  “Not at all,” Steven said. “Come on, Denny. We’ve got to be up early.”

  “I know,” Denny said, annoyed, because he wasn’t a little kid who needed a reminder. When he stepped down to the dock, it swayed a lot more than usual. Only then did he think that maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d intended. Steven caught his arm and muttered something unflattering.

  “Good night, boys,” Claire said, amused, as Harrison slung his arm around her shoulder and looked down at them.

  Harrison added, “Have a safe trip home.”

  “Game two of the series is tomorrow night!” Bud yelled. “Go Red Sox!”

  The walk back to the Idle would have been easier if the horizon wasn’t moving so much. The smell of seaweed and old fish made Denny’s stomach lurch.

  “Why’d you hang out with those guys?” Steven asked. “You don’t even know them.”

  “They’re okay,” Denny said. “Nice.”

  The dock slid sideways. Steven grabbed Denny’s arm. “Harrison’s a jerk. And you turned into a lightweight when I wasn’t looking.”

  “Not a lightweight. It’s just been a long, long day,” Denny said.

  Back on Carter’s boat, Steven dumped Denny into the bed and went to make up the galley berth for himself. Denny watched the overhead spin and tried to remember the name of that resort he’d seen during his last trip to Key West. He and Brian could have a romantic weekend together. If Brian still liked him. If Denny hadn’t ruined everything.

  He found his phone and sent a long heartfelt message.

  Steven came back with a glass of water and some aspirin. “Take these.”

  Denny hated the taste of the pills, but he swallowed them anyway. “Why don’t you like Harrison? He’s cute.”

  “He’s not cute to me,” Steven replied.

  “What are we going to do about the black belt test?”

  “I don’t know. Sensei Teresa knows what the surprise is, but she wouldn’t tell me. She says it’s important.”

  “Riza’s not going to change her mind,” Denny said mournfully. “But I don’t care! I’m not gong to Miami. I’m going to Key West and that’s my final word.”

  Steven turned out the light. “Shut up and go to sleep. If you throw up, you’re cleaning it up yourself.”

  Denny curled up around his cell phone, waiting in the darkness for a return message from Brian. Ocean waves broke quietly against the bow and out in the galley Steven started to snore, but the phone remained silent.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brian was pretty sure he’d messed things up. No, he was dead certain he’d ruined them. He hadn’t meant to be such a jerk to Denny, certainly hadn’t intended to break up with him, but he’d opened his mouth and all those words had come out and it was just like red-hot lava spewing out of a volcano. Which was strange, because Brian didn’t usually think of himself as a volcano kind of guy. He prided himself on being calm and steady, a rock.

  Volcanoes were made of rock, though, he reminded himself.

  And there was only so much heat a rock could take before it melted into bright boiling sludge.

  “What did you say?” his mother asked, her gaze focused on the TV.

  They were watching movies again, for the sixth night in a row. And they’d had room service for dinner again, for the sixth night in a row. She was sitting in her bathrobe steadily drinking wine, and he was sitting in an armchair slowly going insane.

  Or maybe not slowly after all.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Brian told his mother.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.

  He didn’t even think she noticed when he left.

  In his room, he flopped belly-down on his bed and glumly considered his phone. Denny had sent him a message a few hours ago: call me i’m sorry. Except that Denny didn’t really have anything to apologize for, right? He’d never wavered in his goal to go away into the military, and being homosexual was still against regulations even if the president was thinking of doing away with it.

  Before he could stop himself, Brian hit the speed-dial for his old boyfriend, Christopher, up in Boston. On any normal summer night Christopher would be out with friends, either shopping or partying. Having his broken leg in a long, uncomfortable cast had put a damper on that.

  “How’s life in sun-drenched Florida?” Christopher asked when he answered.

  “It’s dark out,” Brian replied. Despite the air-conditioning he’d opened the sliding glass door of the balcony. The warm breeze smelled not just of the ocean and seaweed but also of that thick topical earthiness that you couldn’t get away from in Florida. “How’s life in equally dark Massachusetts?”

  “I’m sitting in my room when I should be out wasting my youth.”

  Brian rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. “How’s your leg?”

  “Hurts a lot, thanks. I’m going to probably have a limp for the rest of my life. Crippled Chris, they’ll call me. I’ll have to have a special shoe because one leg is so much shorter than the other.”

  Brian let the complaints wash over him like waves coming ashore. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  “I’ll never be able to bend it backward over a guy during sex again,” Christopher added. “Happy?”

  “No. I can’t go to MIT in September.”

  Christopher screeched, “What?”

  Brian moved the phone away from his ear to save his hearing. He pressed the speakerphone button. “The finances are all messed up because of my stepdad. I might have to take a year off and let things settle down. They do it in Europe all the time. Gap year.”

  “They do it so they can ride around on trains and sleep in rat-infested hostels and get drugs in Amsterdam,” Christopher replied. “Notice I’m not opposed to the last part, but I don’t see a Eurail pass in your future.”

  Brian felt wounded. “I could ride around Europe on a train!”

  “You won’t even ride the subway in Boston.”

  Which was true, sometimes, but only because he didn’t like holding onto poles and touching handles that other people had left their germs all over. Not that he was a germophobe. Not much. Wintertime wasn’t too bad. Even though someone was usually sniffling or sneezing, most everyone wore gloves. But in summer, people left their sweat and viruses and who-knew-what-else everywhere, a big sticky invisible film of disease.

  Christopher said, “Is your mom telling you that you can’t go to school?”

  Brian watched the dark blades of the ceiling fan swirl around over his head. “She’s not using those words.”

  “Which words is she using?”

  “I’m trying not to listen.”

  “You can’t take a year off,” Christopher insisted. “You’ll be bored and unhappy.”

  Which was possible, indeed probable, but it wasn�
��t as if he had much of a choice—if the money wasn’t there, the money wasn’t there. It didn’t grow on palm trees and it didn’t wash ashore at high tide. MIT wasn’t about to hand him a free ride just because his family’s finances had all dried up.

  “They must have students who have financial aid problems right before the term starts,” Christopher insisted.

  “This isn’t a problem, it’s a disaster,” Brian replied.

  Christopher was silent for a moment. Brian stayed quiet, too. He wanted to ask Christopher for advice about Denny, but that was an area he didn’t dare go near.

  Finally Christopher said, “If you can’t go to school you should come up to Boston anyway, crash with us. Get a job and get out of Nowheresville.”

  “Sleep on your sofa and work in a coffee shop?” Brian asked. “Watch you go to BU all day while I make Frappucinos?”

  “Yes!”

  “I hate Frappucinos,” Brian said. “And I can’t leave my mom.”

  “She can’t take care of things herself?”

  “She shouldn’t have to.”

  “You need to get out and get laid,” Christopher said. “How’s your ridiculously repressed hero boy?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Christopher sounded gleeful. “Oh! Still crushing hopelessly, huh? He’s never going to risk his macho military career for you.”

  “Still not talking.”

  “How about that other guy? What’s his name? Works in the bookstore.”

  Brian didn’t remember Christopher going anywhere near the Bookmine when he’d been visiting. Christopher and books did not mix. “You mean Sean?”

  “Sean, yeah, whatever. Do him.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. Sean was cute in his own way, and kind of smart-alecky, but Christopher didn’t feel any kind of spark when he thought about him. Still, after he hung up with Christopher he texted Sean a message.

  Need your advice, he sent.

  No response came back. Brian wished he wasn’t so alone in his life, or so alone in this room. Thinking about Denny—handsome, strong, ridiculously athletic, tanned—made him feel even more sorry for himself. He went out to the suite’s living room but his mother had turned off the TV and gone to her own room. The light was still on behind the closed door.