Page 41 of The Care of Broken Things
“Like it isn’t his fantasy to pimp me out to you.”
The stupidest part was that he was probably right. Nathaniel didn’t seem to mind Eli touching him at all. He even made these little comments—comments he did his best to forget. Things like, “I don’t know if you’re able to get condoms in commissary, but I promise he’s clean. I can print out blood test results if you like,” or, “They didn’t let me put lubricant in the care package, so I had to substitute massage oil instead.” Samuel had tried assuring him that he had no plans to touch his husband, but it was like Nathaniel had his ears plugged. He’d say things like, “We don’t have to talk about it if it embarrasses you.” Still, he would take those comments again—he’d takeanycomments again—if it only meant seeing him again.
He missed Nathaniel. Actually, he missedhim as much as he missed Jenny, which weirded him out.
Nathaniel didn’t think it was weird. “I’m going through beauty withdrawals,” he said to them through the phone one morning. They had a way of crowding close to the receiver that made them both able to hear him at once. “If I don’t see some decent tits soon, I think I’m going to put a stapler through someone’s head. No one in academia has a body you’d want to see naked.”
“I’ll be sure to flash you on Saturday,” Eli promised him.
“Not enough. Maybe if I could watch Samuel molest you a little...though I’m not sure my brain could handle it.”
“You’re a ridiculous man, Pearson.”
“As if you wouldn’t sell your left nut for a recording. By the way, is this the time to confess how my masturbation fantasies have changed?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Don’t you dare. I’m not even halfway through venting my frustrations.”
Eli laughed. Samuel didn’t. His insides were squirming something awful. Eli drew him aside after the phone call to apologize for any distress it might have caused. “He doesn't know about—he would feel awful if he thought he was making you uncomfortable. Do you want me to tell him?”
“What?No.”
“But if it bothers you—”
“That’s not why. Jesus. As if I could ever think of Nat as a predator.”
Eli seemed to relax a little, hearing that. But he still wouldn’t drop it. “He’s not really, you know, fantasizing about—”
“Yes, I know,” he said, or at least, he meant to justsayit, but it came out sounding much more irritated than he meantto, almostwaspish. It surprised Eli, who blinked and shut his mouth, clearly unsure what to make of it, or what to say, which only further embarrassed and ruffled Samuel, who was used to being rescued from his own awkwardness. Thankfully Eli seemed to brush it off, and they continued as they’d been soon afterwards.
And then it was Saturday.
He woke to Eli’s humming. He recognized the song but couldn’t place it.
“Morning, puppy,” Eli said, and then he laughed hard enough to shake the bed, the sound full of such simple joy it made his chest ache. The man was in afantasticmood, and everyone was forced to share in it.
The humming turned to unrestrained belting in the showers. And the thing was, no one minded. Eli had an astonishing voice, and soon he was getting encores and even song requests—all of which the man seemed perfectly happy to fulfill—naked, and singing into a borrowed hairbrush.
Samuel weathered it for as long as he could, then dragged him out of the bathroom halfway through a rendition ofLove Shack.
“Aw, baby. That’s my audience.”
“Audiencespayfor performances.”
It wasn’t much as far as retorts went, and Eli’s laugh proved it. “You jealous, puppy?”
The man said it as a joke, but Samuel was just irritated enough to whip around and snap, “Last I checked, you weremyprison-husband, not anyone else’s.”
At that, Eli laughed for so hard and so long, Samuel wanted to yell at him to take a breath, but then Eli clamped down on his face and said, “I could eat you, Samuel. I really could.” And that got him real quiet real fast.
They were waiting at the gate an hourbefore visiting hours began. Samuel brought a book with him to read aloud to pass the time, but Eli was too excited for reading, interrupting himself to say things like, “I’m so excited,” or “I’m so happy.”
That face-splitting grin lasted right up until the time Mathews actually came to unlock the gate, and then suddenly Eli was nervous.
“What if I make her cry? What if she just cries and cries and never wants to come again?”
“You’re being crazy,” Samuel said, but couldn’t help feeling some of that nervousness himself. A lot of people hated coming to visit, and not just because of the commute. The prison was depressing as hell, and full of people you would pay big money never to see.
