Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

bundle up." I picked up the sodden jeans and tossed them in the tub. I turned on the fan in the bathroom and over the stove to clear the air. Then I started picking up garbage because I didn't know what else to do but I knew I couldn't leave him yet.
    "Stop fucking cleaning, Lukas."
    "I'm not touching the laundry." I tossed the trash, separating out the recyclables, and went back for another round. Alan watched from the couch, cross-legged with an elbow on his knee and his head propped on that hand. His hair stuck out in every direction, and I hadn't got all the makeup off. I expected after possibly days it required special treatment, and possibly an incantation, to remove.
    "What the fuck," he muttered. "I don't get it."
    "You are not brought upon this world to 'get it,' Mr. Lacroix," I said, misquoting one of my favorite movies.
    Alan snorted and held the hot chocolate mug to his forehead.
    "Do you ever lie, Lukas?" he asked softly from behind it.
    "Rarely," I said, rooting in the laundry with my toes for more garbage. Something in the room stank. "Honesty is a lot easier on everyone."
    "…you're disgusting," he muttered, hiding behind both hands and the cup. I found a Quikburger bag with the remains of a salad in it and tied it in the bag and threw it away. Alan set the cup down and flopped over on the couch, pulling the comforter over his head. I went into the kitchen and did the dishes.
    When I came back to the living room he was still under the comforter, now shaking. I went to close the window, but he stopped me again.
    "Leave it."
    "I thought you were asleep."
    "If I could sleep ," he snarled, "I wouldn't be fucking drunk ."
    I sat on the couch next to him. He wriggled, inching closer until his head rested on my leg. I decided that meant much the same as Midas shoving his muzzle under my hand, so I brushed the comforter back and smoothed Alan's hair. It was still wet. I probably shouldn't have shoved him in the shower.
    "I don't know what to do," Alan whispered. "It doesn't work."
    "What doesn't work?"
    "Everything. Nothing." He drew a deep shuddering breath. "I came out the day I got here, Lukas. I never thought I'd get here, that I'd get to that day. I came out to a few thousand strangers and I thought it made me brave but it didn't."
    "I think you're brave."
    "What do you know? You think flannel is acceptable in public."
    I chuckled.
    "My sister knew. Bea knew before I did, and she protected me. When she went to college I told her I could take care of myself for two years, told her I'd be right behind her. Only then my folks decided they needed a new car and a Hawaiian cruise but they couldn't afford two kids in college. So I got a job and I saved— but if I broke something, they took it out of my account. If I left the lights on, or I ate too much, or I worried them, they paid themselves back. I was afraid if I moved out I'd never get back to school, so I started at the community college because they couldn't take money that wasn't there."
    "See? Brave."
    "It was survival. I was still in the closet. I went to church, I dated girls and sometimes I treated them like utter shit, and I lied to everyone."
    "It was survival," I said, suspecting I knew where the "abomination" thing had come from. I should have realized it would be someone important to him, to knock him for a loop as it had.
    Alan grunted annoyance, but after a minute he went on.
    "Bea and I plotted the whole time. She took a job the day she graduated and committed to getting me into the school I wanted, and challenged my parents to do the same. She worked them over until they were ashamed of themselves for holding me back when I'd worked 'so hard,' and with Bea's money and theirs and a lot of financial aid, I got here. And I came out to the whole campus. I thought my life had finally started."
    "But?" I asked.
    Alan stretched and wriggled, reaching under the coffee table. He caught the cover of a large black book between his fingers and tugged it until he could get his hand around it, held it up to me. It was a Bible, an expensive NASB translation with gold leaf on the front. I took it and Alan stuck his finger next to a paper tucked inside and flipped the book open to Leviticus 20. One verse had been highlighted in yellow.
    13 If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death. Their bloodguiltiness is upon them.
    A post-it note beside the verse