Page 59 of Sicken of the Calm
“I don’t have any embarrassingpictures of myself.”
“So if I ask your mom…”
“No,” I say, and he laughs as hetries to escape my arms, but I grab him and squeeze him close.
“Ok, ok! Mercy!” he crieseventually, and I release him with an amused, warning look. He sticks histongue out as he goes back to exploring the room. I let him, feeling bothvulnerable and warm at seeing the intense interest he bestows on the mostmundane parts of my collection.
The holidays roll forward withonly a few hitches. There is the usual madness that revolves around Christmas,heightened by the fact that Iva’s and my family celebrate together, doublingthe chaos. Despite some of Ezra’s time spent with his friends from high school,most of it is spent with Iva and me, with or without our family. Ezra isquickly accepted as one of the tribe. Their ready acceptance is welcome, but alittle confusing. Not because Ezra is not worthy of it, but because my family,as welcoming as it is, also tends to draw a certain line when it comes tooutsiders. Ezra, however, seems to have walked right over it, but it’s not agift horse I’m going to look in the mouth.
We spend time away from thehouse, too, however, and I can’t help but notice that Ezra is noticeably tenserwhen we’re out in public. It’s only when he asks me, with false casualness, ifI’m going to meet up with my other friends that I realize why. For a moment, Idon’t know what he’s talking about until I realize he’s asking after myex-teammates.
“No, I kind of lost touch afterschool,” I say, matching his tone. He nods absently, but I see some of thetension drain from his shoulders, his hand catching mine later that day for thefirst time since we got here.
Understandably, Ezra turns downan invitation for Christmas, saying he is spending it with his parents. I don’tprotest, but my stomach clenches at the thought of the quiet, restrained affairit will most likely be. It is also not lost on me that Ezra does not invite meover to his house, but I don’t push this either, happy to simply abduct himfrom them as much as possible for now.
The day after Christmas, Ezracomes over, and after being plied with leftovers, we ensconce in my room totrade gifts, despite the fact that we hadn’t discussed getting each otheranything.
I open mine first, both of ussitting crossed-legged on my bed. He’s watching me intently as I un-wrap thefirst of two presents, thin and tubed shaped. When the wrapping paper fallsaway, it reveals a rolled-up poster, and I can’t help but start laughing as Iunroll it.
“Where the fuck did you getthis?” I say between laughs, staring at theRubiposter incredulously.The two leads of the Telenovela my first crush starred in are looking at eachother dramatically on the glossy paper. I look up to see Ezra grinning widely.
“I may have commissioned it,special,” he shrugs. I shake my head, still smiling.
“I hope you know this is hangingright over my bed at Fox Lake,” I tease.
“Guess I’ll just have to makesure I’m distracting enough when we’re together, then,” he smirks. I shake myhead again, but my cheeks ache from my wide grin.
“Next one, next one,” he saysimpatiently, pointing at the other present, which is obviously a large andheavy book. I open it carefully, and my eyes narrow and then widen as I openthe book. It’s massive, hard-covered with the glossy pages common in mainlypicture-based books. Inside, there is photograph after photograph of the mostintricate and famous buildings in the world, spanning from millennia-old,religious structures to the most modern and innovative constructions.Accompanying every set of photographs, depicting both the inside and outside ofeach building, is a written history geared mainly toward themes of architecture;the name of the era, it’s distinctive features that classify it so, and how thesocio-political and historical context affected its features, as well as triviaabout the architect or difficulties in construction. On top of that, wherepossible, blueprints are included, and I am captured instantly by the detail inthem.
“Ezra…” I say, awed. I can’t evenimagine how much this cost, or how long it took to find it. I look up at himwith wide eyes. His expression is soft and pleased, and I can’t do anythingmore than lean over and kiss him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he sayswhen we part. I shake my head, “like” being far too light a word as I trail myfingers over a close-up of the intricate wooden carvings of Granada’s ElAlhambra. Ezra doesn’t interrupt me, but I close the book with difficulty,turning my attention to Ezra and his waiting presents.
We’ve both had similar instincts.I, too, have gotten him two things, one jokingly – a few packets of chocolatecigarettes – and a more serious one in form of a book. Ezra laughs at thesweets, asking me where I got them.
“Amazon. You were right,” I say.
“Knew it,” he replies, giving mea kiss in thanks. “You know we’re having some the next time we have sex,right?”
“I wouldn’t expect anythingelse,” I laugh.
The real present, I’m a littlemore nervous about. I hold my breath as he unwraps the simple, brown paper toreveal the hardback. It’s not as large as the one he gave me, but bigger thanthe usual book. He stares at the cover for a few moments, frowning in whatseems like confusion. My stomach tightens as the silence stretches. Ivadesigned the cover, having been enlisted to help me format and print the wholething. Ezra reads over the title, taken from his blog and then extended to fitthe content of the book;Pattern in the Fabric: A Collection of Articles byEzra Aiken. Inside is what the title promises; a collection of articlesfrom Ezra’s blog, including relevant pictures Iva and I found, unconcernedabout copyright as the book’s purpose was not to be published.
“I don’t…” he says, opening thebook and flipping through page after page of his own words. “How…” he says,finally looking up at me. I shrug, smiling.
“Iva helped. She’s crazy for yourblog, too, you know. It’s so fucking good, Ezra. I thought you’d like to see iton paper,” I say, shrugging again. He gapes at me for a moment, looks down atthe book, then back at me before jerkily setting both our books aside and thenshoving me until my back is on the bed. He’s on me a second later, kissing mefuriously, and I can’t help but laugh into his mouth.
“You like it, then,” I say,grinning into the next kiss.
“I, I – fuck, I can’t believe youone-upped me. I thought nothing could top that badass book I got you,” he says,kissing me again.
“It’s a very nice book,” I agree,and let him silence me for a while with his mouth, his hands gripping at melike he can’t get me close enough.
“Fuck,” he says eventually,burying his face in my neck. I stroke his hair, pleased all over at hisreaction. “I… Joaquin. I – thanks. I, I just – no one has ever really,like…believed…I just,” he cuts himself off, and I wrap my arms around him,letting him hide his face against my skin. Everything his parents have done,every doubt they’ve planted in Ezra, I want to pull out from the root and destroyuntil there is nothing but fertile soil left.
“I actually printed a few, I hopeyou don’t mind. I have one that I want to show my dad, he’s not much for computers,and Iva wanted one. She wants to show her parents, although she agreed to waituntil I asked you. We can give you all the copies if you want, though,” Ioffer. Ezra has tensed in my arms, and he lifts his head to look at me for amoment, searching for something, before kissing me again, much more softly thistime.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…yeah, that’sok,” he says, resting his head back down.
