Page 26 of Say It Again

Aaron’s hands hesitated to continue as something clenched inside his chest. It was as if the melody suddenly didn’t feel right, so he added another layer to balance it. Balance was important. Maybe that was it; she thought she could love their dad so much that, eventually, the scales would stabilize. She loved him so much that she didn’t leave. Said she couldn’t. Said she wouldn’t. I don’t have a dime to my name, boys. We won’t make it. They’ll take you away. I can’t let them take you away.

Whatever he was playing had evolved into something deeper with a blunt blueprint. He clenched his teeth as he played harder, leaning into how complicated it sounded.

The thing was, they all loved their dad. They didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until Aaron got a little older that he realized they weren’t thriving as a family so much, bonded by traditions. A strand of hair fell as he stamped the keys.

I don’t have a dime to my name, boys. Money. She couldn’t leave because of money. We won’t make it. I can’t let them take you away. So they stayed. They weren’t a family, and it wasn’t a home. It was a waiting room, and they were all just sort of there. Waiting for change that would never come.

Aaron sucked in a quick breath and slowly exhaled. It was probably a little late to be playing, and his neighbor on the right was a total chode, mostly about visitors but sometimes about noise, so he softened whatever tune that was. His fingertips barely licked the keys as he quelled the song to a finish.

“I’m rusty.” He cracked his knuckles and twisted back to Daniel. “I should probably practice—”

Daniel sat stiffened in the chair with his fingertips clenched white in his lap and his eyes wide and reddened. He was… crying?

“Holy hell.” Aaron stood so fast he nearly knocked the bench over. “Oh my God, what happened? Why are you crying?”

“Um.” Daniel’s hands shook as he frantically wiped his cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” Aaron knelt in front of him and grasped his arms, fighting for his eye contact. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he whispered pitifully. “Th-th-the piano.”

“What?” Aaron knitted his eyebrows together and shook his head. “You’re crying over the piano?”

“No.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Over the way you played it.” Daniel’s voice sounded broken and strange. He buried his face in his hands. “Which is so embarrassing—I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine. Give me a minute.”

“Aw, kid.” He wrapped his arms around him and pulled them up to a stand, where he rubbed his back in slow circles. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“That was intense and heartbreaking for some reason.” Daniel curled into his chest. “And so beautiful, Aaron. Really, really beautiful.”

He hugged Daniel tighter. He felt so fragile in his arms, almost frail, like he could break, which wasn’t true. Daniel wasn’t frail, and there was no shame in crying, but it also wasn’t a language Aaron knew how to speak. It almost felt like a language no one knew how to speak anymore. Like somewhere along the way, everyone had forgotten how. The Fondness grew until it bulged around the seams.

“You’re really beautiful.” He cradled Daniel’s head against his chest and kissed his curls. “You’re intense and beautiful. You know that?”

Daniel’s words were muffled as he sniffled and said, “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I promise I’m normal.”

“No, hey. Look at me.” He held Daniel’s shoulders and ducked down to catch his gaze. He kissed the wet streak of a fallen tear on his cheek. “This is precious. It’s so precious. Thank you.”

Daniel blinked his pinkened eyes. “Thank me? For what?”

“For letting me see that. How brave.” He kissed his lips, whispering every few seconds, “So brave.”

Aaron wanted to stand there holding him until his legs gave out, bearing his weight, soaking up the tenderness like a chunk of bread in soup. It was like seeing a beautiful vase in a museum only to discover that the long crack running down the side was what made it so priceless.

After a minute, Daniel broke them apart to swab his shirt over his face as he forced a weak smile. “Well, if ever there was a mood, I sure did ruin it, huh? I should probably take off. Thank you so much for everything. Dinner was so delightful—”

“You didn’t ruin it.” Aaron’s breathing was edgy, and his hands were suddenly on Daniel’s body, in his hair, gripping with agency of their own. How was he to soak up the tenderness if the tenderness left? “You didn’t ruin anything. Don’t leave. Stay. I want you to stay.”

Daniel’s lips parted and a speck of a tear from his long lashes splashed his cheek as Aaron tilted his head back for him. “Stay as in… the farmer’s market?”

He pressed a kiss on Daniel’s pouty lips. “Yes.” He pressed another. “Or maybe just the parking lot of the farmer’s market.”

Daniel chuckled. “I mean, do not get me wrong. I’m amped about whatever the hell that means, but what about taking it slowly? I thought you wanted to take it slowly. Like gentlemen.”

Yeah, about that. Aaron couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t hit deeply if they messed around and Daniel didn’t answer his phone tomorrow, but he didn’t have it in him to say, Good point. We should wait. The kid just cried in front of him. There wasn’t much more intimate than that.

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