Fiction Friday Part 5: The Rock

This is Part Five of a story I’m working on for our Fearless Fiction Femmes Fatales group. If you want to catch up, here’s Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four. Just to jog everybody’s memories on the names (since even my husband can’t keep them straight): Eric and Peter were together 22 years ago on Kauai. Now Eric is with Jason in Honolulu. And Peter Wong is married to Jen and living in Reno.

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Eric looked at the clock even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do. Everything he’d ever read about insomnia said you should never look at the clock.

3:17. He could get up and start another movie. Dangerous Liaisons had ended at one o’clock, and he’d gone to bed for the second time that night, hoping to be extra tired. A book. He could get up and try reading a book.

He watched the clock flip to 3:18. His eyes were so tired they could barely focus on the numbers. They swam in front of him like little phosphorescent fish in a black pond. No, reading wasn’t an option.

His eyelids drooped as he listened to Jason’s quiet, rhythmic snoring. He was the only person he knew who could snore gracefully…

It was like purring…

So soft……….

Why did you call him?!

Awake. Damn.

The curtain had almost come down, but his mind was a millisecond too quick. His thoughts had raced through the opening just in time, right before the last bit of light was extinguished and the heavy velvet hit the stage. He stared at the clock. You should never look at the clock.

Why, why did you call him?

Those last few days in Kauai in 1990 were a blur. He and Peter spent more time together than they ever had. It was like the first weeks of their relationship when they couldn’t stay away from each other. They went kayaking, mountain biking, body surfing. They hiked up to the falls and brought a picnic. They called in sick to work and spent all morning in bed.

Peter had lunch with a friend. Told her how relieved he was that everything was back to normal. That clearly he’d been imagining problems in their relationship and creating some sort of tension that wasn’t there. That, “just between us,” Eric was fucking him like he had something to prove. And, yes, they had been having problems in that department but not anymore. That sure, Eric had been distant for a while, but that was just because work was stressing him out. That the business was moving forward, full steam ahead.

He put up the beige curtains and slept soundly.

On the last day, they spent the afternoon talking with a loan officer about funding for their outdoor adventure business. He assured them he could get them at least a small line of credit to get it started. They stopped at one of the big tourist hotels, toasted each other with an overpriced drink, and watched the waves crash into the rocks.

“They’ll always win, won’t they,” said Eric.

“Who?” Peter turned his concentration to the label on his beer bottle.

“The waves. They’ll never stop. And the poor rocks. They don’t stand a chance. They’ll just sit there and take it and take it until they finally just crack. Doesn’t matter how strong they are. Doesn’t matter what their exterior’s made out of. They’ll finally just crack.”

“Yeah. Or they might just get really smooth. Loose all their edges. And get smaller and smaller.”

Eric’s gaze didn’t leave the ocean.

“But…” Peter continued, “at least they’ll be nice to walk on?” Eric turned to him, his brow furrowed. Peter shrugged. Eric’s face softened, remembering where he was, who he was with.

“Let’s get home,” he said.

********

The front door slammed shut as Eric pushed Peter back against it. He pulled his shirt apart, ripping the buttons off the only good shirt Peter owned — the one he’d worn to the bank interview. His hands deftly slid down the backside of his shorts.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wear any underwear to our meeting,” he whispered, his mouth pressed against Peter’s ear, pinning his head to the door. “You’re a naughty, naughty boy.”

He pulled back and looked at his face. Peter was breathing like they’d just finished sprinting down the beach. He raised a hand to touch Eric, but Eric grabbed his wrist and pinned it back to the door. He set his forehead against Peter’s. Their eyes never met. Eric grabbed the front of his shorts and pulled him into their bedroom.

*******

At 3 a.m. Kauai time, Eric stared at the clock. He listened to Peter’s heavy, rhythmic breathing. When he was sure he was asleep, he pulled back the sheet and slipped out of bed.

The old apartment creaked, but the ocean waves drowned out any noises he made as he clicked shut their bedroom door. He wasn’t sure why he was being so careful. Peter was exhausted. Eric made sure he was exhausted.

His hand shook as he pick up the receiver. You’re just tired. YOU are exhausted. This is what needs to be done. Just do it. DO it. There’s no other way. Just call. Dial the number. Push the buttons. This is your life. This is your life.

The phone rang. On the other end, in Washington D.C., a deep voice with the slightest trace of a Chinese accent picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Wong? My name is Eric Ganin. I’m. . . I’m a friend of your son’s.”

 

Read Part Six: The Flight 

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This week’s prompt: Your character is drowsy, just about to drift off to sleep only to be roused because s/he spontaneously remembered an intense moment from his/her past with another love? It keeps her/him up all night, distracted the next day.

 

Be sure to check out my fellow femmes:

• ClearlyKristal
• BuLaMamaNi
• Susanne’s World
• It’s a Dome Life
• DeBie Hive
• Grass Oil by Molly Field
• Quirky Chrissy
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