Page 149 of Wrath

Josh

That’s one of the worst things for me. When his eyes open, but he can’t wake up. His brain stays where it was, and even if I rub him down and talk to him, and look into his eyes and kiss his cheeks, he can’t get back to me. Can’t stop crying. Can’t breathe.

I feel helpless. This time, he goes back to sleep when I start rubbing his back, but he’s twitching again just a couple minutes later. There’s some markers on the end table, left from when my little cousins visited a few months ago. So I grab the pack and draw a picture on his forearm, hoping that the tickling will feel good and keep his mind here with me.

I write Ezra and Josh in my best—still not that good—cursive and intertwine them, then draw ivy all around, and then an ocean in the background and a sunset on the left side. I tell him what I’m doing, and he’s smiling softly in his sleep like he approves. I add a little infinity symbol near the inside of his elbow, and his eyes lift open. He looks down and gives a sleepy grin, then leans up and kisses my lips.

He pulls me against him, wraps me in his warmth, and sinks back into sleep like he must be pretty tired. Probably the game and then the things we did today. We lost our virginities today. And it was fucking awesome.

I let myself relax with him and close my eyes. Think about college, in an apartment somewhere. Him and me, wrapped in some covers. Watching TV. Getting a shower together. In my dream, it’s cold outside and we’re putting our coats on. I can hear our parents talking.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask him.

He’s grinning.

Mom says, “Home a little early…”

I hear Carl murmur something.

There’s a part of me that’s not asleep. It’s the reason my eyes open, my heart racing before my retinas focus on the doorway to the dining room—where Mom and Carl are standing.

My mom’s mouth has fallen open. Carl’s brows are drawn together, his lips parted like he can’t find words. Ezra’s wrapped around me, his face pushed between my throat and shoulder. We’re both in our underwear.

I look from Mom to Ezra and back—as my pulse races and my body goes bloodless and cold. I can feel my hand tremble as I hold a finger up. I point to Ezra and then put a finger over my mouth.

There’s no logic in it. I just need to disentangle from him so he doesn’t wake up to this. Somehow, I manage to. Somehow, my legs hold me when I stand. I grab a pillow, holding it in front of me, and wave my mom and Carl back into the dining room.

“Come in here,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. I’m too scared to look back at them. I walk to the back porch door, and then I turn around and face them.

Time slows. My mom’s face has gone from shocked to what I think is fury.

“Josh!” Her voice is high and wobbly, damning in that horrified mom way. “What were you two doing in there?”

Carl’s mouth moves like a guppy’s. My cheeks and chest are burning. I can feel my eyes well as I look at Mom’s face. But Ihaveto do this. I want to tell them while he’s asleep.

“Mom…um.” I swallow as my eyes well more and my throat tightens. “I don’t want y’all to freak out about this,” I say, one tear already falling. “But…I’m gay.” I feel my back hit the door, realize I’ve been moving backward.

More tears fall down my cheeks as Mom’s mouth presses flat and Carl’s eyes fly to her face.

“Don’t be loud, please.” My voice quavers. “Ezra will wake up, and it’ll scare him.” Thinking of Ezra finding out they know makes my chest ache, which makes me want to cry more. I cover my face and try to get myself together, but I know he’s gonna wake up and find out. He’ll probably never talk to me again. I put both hands over my face, trying not to really lose it.

“I’m sorry,” I manage through my tears. “It’s my fault.”

Mom’s hand on my arm startles me, and then my being startled startles her. She’s looking at me wide-eyed. “Josh…were you two—”

“We were on the couch, Mom. Sleeping.” I move away from her, my back to the wall by the porch door.

She looks at me, at my underwear, and I start crying more. “I’m sorry,” I’m starting—when I hear Ezra’s low voice.

“Mills?”

He’s at the back of the kitchen. His face is frozen in what looks like he wants it to be a neutral expression. But his eyes are pulled wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. I can tell the second his eyes meet mine that he knows what’s up, and then he locks his face down, frowning at me as he stands there in his boxers.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

I wipe my eyes, and his face twists in sympathetic upset. Hewalks quickly over to me, but he doesn’t step between my mom and Carl.

“What’s the matter?” he asks again, looking only at me.

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