My friend August Li has a new MM urban fantasy book out:
The sea is full of jealously guarded secrets, but everything washes up eventuallyā¦.
Betrayed by a trusted partner, Nathan figures he might as well be lost and heartbroken in the sunshine, and he heads to the coast of South Carolina, to stay with a friend and find a new direction for his life. But despite his efforts, he is lost in the fog, unable to find a guiding light and sometimes unable to find a reason to go on. His only respite from depression and anxiety is the soothing rhythm of the tides and the comfort he draws from proximity to the water.
When the sea sends a lifeline in the form of a strange and beautiful man, itās easy for Nathan to ignore all the things that donāt add up about his new friend. But the tides can turn without notice, and itās those mystical traits that will either finally lead Nathan safely to shore or drown him in confusion and despair.
Excerpt
NATHAN KNEW sometime that afternoon this would be the last time.
He couldnāt take the feeling of drifting anymore, of being weightless, but not in the pleasant, content way. He felt more like something without substance, something to dismiss and ignore. Something being tossed around by the whims of others, and the back and forth made his head spin and his stomach lurch. He needed to see something beyond smears rushing past.
So he waited, trying to get some work done on his laptop but mostly watching the door to their Philadelphia apartment for Brian to get home. Part of him was anxious to finally get it over with, while the other part dreaded the finality and wondered if he could find the courage.
He was always being pulled in different directions.
Mostly he wanted to escape from the conversations in his head, the imagined responses he planned but inevitably grew too scared to say, swallowing them to ferment in his stomach as he spent another night watching Netflix on the couch until he fell asleep. But as he followed the trail of the powdery snow as it spiraled past the windows, he knew something had changed.
It was tempting to take out a notepad and write down all of his points, arguments, and counterarguments. Heād always been a list-maker by nature, liked the way giving form to ideas made them concrete. Concrete things could be dealt with, understood. But every time he went to his desk in the nook between the kitchen and dining room, he felt too pathetic spelling it all out like that. So he paced. He wiped down the counters and fed the fish. The snow fell harder, gathering on the windowpanes. The streetlights flickered to life, making the fat flakes glow against the darkening sky. Once it would have been the perfect night to light the gas fireplace and open a bottle of Cabernet. Once it would have been romantic, the sounds of the street muffled by the snow, the apartment cocooned and private like a candle in cupped hands.
Once.
Nathan tried not to look at all their possessions or relive the memory attached to each one. This had been his home for so long. When theyād bought the apartment twelve years ago, itād seemed too good to be trueāa place in Center City. How far theyād come.
Now it just seemed as cold and sterile as a hospital room. He didnāt feel like he belonged among the things theyād chosen and collected together; he felt lost beneath their high ceilings and cherry crown molding.
He didnāt realize heād been sitting in the dark, mesmerized by the languid spiral of snowflakes and the tiny fairylike shadows they cast in the wedge of amber light coming through the window. Snippets of better days eddied pastāpainting, picking furniture, cuddling together on the very sofa where he now sat. So many plans. It all dissolved at the sound of the key in the lock, echoing back through the years.
Brian came in whistling. He turned on the light in the hall and set his briefcase down. In the kitchen, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and took a few loud gulps.
In the living room, he glanced to where Nathan sat but said nothing. If Nathan let him, heād go into the bathroom, shave off his five-oāclock shadow, splash on some cologne. Maybe heād go into their bedroom and change his clothes. Then, without speaking, he would be gone again. It had been the same for the last two months.
But not tonight. Nathan couldnāt take it anymore. He wouldnāt be tossed around anymore. Heād find something to grab hold of, even if it cut his hands.
Getting off that couch was one of the hardest things heād ever done. His legs shook with the exertion, and his hands trembled as he followed his husband into the room theyād shared for over a decadeāas legal spouses for the past couple of years. As Brian stood before an open drawer in a snug white T-shirt and his boxers, Nathan considered saying something about the storm. Casual conversation between two people who knew each other so well.
But he didnāt know this man. He wondered if he ever had.
āWhere are you going?ā
Brian didnāt look up as he dug through his socks. āIām going to go play some darts with Chris. Iād ask if you want to come along, but you never want to go out anymore.ā
āIām almost forty, Brian. Iām a little over the bar scene.ā For the past few years, the social anxiety that had always lapped against the back of Nathanās mind had grown, and now the roar of it drowned out almost everything else when he was in a crowd. When they went out, all he could do was try to keep it behind its dam so it didnāt break through and carry him away. Shame kept him from admitting it to his husband. That and the near certainty Brian would dismiss it. The man had never had much compassion for anything he considered weakness.
Brian lifted up a pair of socks with a smile like heād found buried treasure and tossed them into a duffel bag that lay open on the bed. āYou know, suit yourself. Maybe we can have dinner next Tuesday.ā
āIā¦ so can I expect this game of darts to last all weekend? Again?ā
āYeah, you know, some of us are thinking of going down to Baltimore. There are some bands playing at a club.ā
āAre you serious?ā The flood of anger was welcome; it washed away Nathanās nerves. āAnd if I hadnāt asked, you wouldnāt have told me.ā
āI knew you wouldnāt want to go.ā
āYou couldāve asked.ā
Brian sighed out a gust of air. āYou wouldnāt want to go. You never want to go. All you ever want to do is sit in this apartment.ā
āIāve been busy with work. Youāre going to punish me for that?ā
āIām sorry, Nathan, but Iām not going to quit living just because you never want to do anything anymore. Iām just not.ā
āNo, youāre going to go out and get drunk and fuck Chris, because thatās your idea of living.ā Nathan waited for him to deny it. After a minute, he said, āAnd you expect me to wait here and beg for whatever scraps are left over. Like dinner one Tuesday a month makes up for it. One dinner is supposed to be enough for me to ignore the fact that youāre with him every night, gone all weekend, and posting pictures of the two of you in Atlantic City? Or dancing shirtless in some club?ā
Brian finally turned and faced him, holding a pair of black briefs tight in his raised fist. āChris has shown me a lot of compassion lately. When I talk to him about the problems weāre having, heās understanding. He doesnāt judge me, and he supports me. You havenāt been there for me in a long time.ā
āWhat problems are we having?ā
āNathan, we havenāt been in love in a long time. And we both know it.ā
āWe do? I didnāt. You son of a bitch. If you werenāt happy, you could have said something to me.ā
āThere were signs. You ignored them.ā Brian sat on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of dark jeans.
āSigns? If you donāt love me anymore, you could have said something. Iāve been beside you fifteen years. I married you as soon as it was legal!ā
āYouāve been distant.ā
āYou could have fucking said something! I donāt deserve even that? After fifteen fucking years, I get tossed aside for some younger guy?ā
Brian stood and went to open the closet door. Apparently this conversation didnāt warrant a pause in his getting ready for his date. Hangers grated across the metal bar as he perused his options. āI probably could have. Iā¦ I guess Iām sorry if I hurt you. But Iām not willing to give up having a social life. Iām sorry, but Iām not.ā
āAnd Chris?ā
āIāll lay off with him, but I wonāt give him up completely. Iām not trying to replace you, Nathan. Maybe justā¦ supplement you. With somebody who shares my interests. Chris likes seeing bands and going out clubbing, so we can share that, andāā
āAnd I get dinner one Tuesday a month? How long? Do I need to get tested?ā
āIām not an idiot,ā Brian said as he slipped his arms into a salmon-colored shirt. āI wore a condom.ā
āAndā¦ and youāre going to throw out everything weāve built together? For this guy?ā Nathan knew he was weak, and if Brian promised to call it off, heād forgive him. Eyes stinging and mouth dry and gritty, he waited. Dammit, if Brian threw out that life preserver, Nathan would latch on.
āI have feelings for Chris. We can make it work, though. Iāll always love you, Nathan. I donāt want to lose that. But with Chris, I can do the things you donāt like to do. It can be beneficial for both of us. Itāll give you time to work without feeling guilty.ā
āFuck you. Get out.ā
āI want to keep you in my life.ā
āGet out. Go to Baltimore. Iāll be gone before you get back.ā Nathan waited, waited for Brian to drop down and hug his knees, stain his pants with his tears, and swear heād never do anything like this again, but Brian just nodded as he finished filling his bag.
āIām sorry you feel that way.ā
Brian walked out, and Nathan channeled all the things he wanted to yell at his husband into packing his things and arranging for a moving truck. Then he scrounged his phone out from between the couch cushions. He could only think of one place to go, and he hoped the offer still stood. If nothing else, it would be nice to feel some warmth on his face.
If he had to be lost, at least he could be lost in the sun and sea air.
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