Page 59 of Pages of My Heart

The house is quiet though. Thomas isn’t in the kitchen, nor, he discovers, in the sitting room or the bathroom.

He assumes Thomas has left early for work, and both disappointment and relief wash over him.

After taking a morning piss, he walks to their bedroom, wondering how he’ll get himself dressed before deciding he won’t bother.

Returning to bed is a better option anyway.

As soon as he opens the door, he knows. His body turns cold, and goosebumps erupt in a wave over his skin like a spark rushing up a fuse wire. Thomas is still in bed, his body curled into a tiny ball and the blankets pulled tight around him like armor.

“Tommy?” he whispers, approaching tentatively. “Tommy . . . are ya sick?”

Kneeling beside the bed, he runs his hand through Thomas’s hair, then gently shakes his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, are ya feelin’ sick?” Thomas’s eyes flutter a few times, never focusing, and then close again.

Charlie places his hand to Thomas’s forehead to check if he has a fever, but his temperature feels normal.

He tries to remain calm. “Sweetheart, please wake up and talk to me. Is it . . .? Are you—” He doesn’t want to put words to it, but he forces them out. “Are you having an episode?”

Thomas doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and Charlie’s panic rises and rises, climbing up his insides until it’s choking him.

He backs away from the bed, taking his hand to his forehead.

“Tommy, get up. Wake up. Please . . .” He paces the floor, never taking his eyes off Thomas, looking for any sign of movement.

“Sweetheart, get up . . . get up, please.”

The corners of Thomas’s mouth curl down and his chin quivers. “Go away,” he whispers, voice barely audible.

Charlie dives forward, crouching once again beside the bed, then leaning forward and pressing his shaking lips to Thomas’s forehead. He cannot be responsible for Thomas having another episode. “Please, Tommy. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t be sick.”

“You don’t love me.” Thomas’s voice is dead and emotionless.

Charlie’s voice pitches higher, nearing hysterics. “I do. I do love you. More than anything.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No, I won’t leave. I’ll stay. I’ll look after you.”

“And keep shutting me out?” Thomas finally opens his eyes. “I think I want to die.”

Charlie cannot take another second and collapses down onto the floor, mournful wails escaping from that wounded beast trapped within him. How will he be able to look after Thomas when he cannot even look after himself?

“Tommy, please, you can’t do this. You gotta find the strength.” Through tear-blurred eyes he watches Thomas begin to sob, tears silent and face twisted in pain.

“Please, Charlie, please tell me what happened to you.” Thomas crawls out of bed and grabs at his neck, climbing half into his lap and crying into his collarbone.

“I don’t care what it is. I know you did something .

. . something that haunts you.” Thomas pulls back and holds Charlie’s face in both hands.

His eyes are full of fear and anguish. “Please let me help you. Tell me, please! Please . . .” Thomas pleads in desperation.

“I killed a kid!” Charlie sucks in a breath, horrified at the sound of those four words spilling from his mouth. He knows deep in his soul that this moment right here will determine the rest of his life. “I fuckin’ murdered a goddamn kid.”

Thomas gasps, eyes darting frantically over Charlie’s face. “But by accident?” Thomas shakes his head in disbelief. “Not deliberately?”

He pulls Thomas closer, so their foreheads meet. “No, not deliberately, but what fuckin’ difference does it make? She’s still dead cause of me. Cause of my mistake.”

“Charlie, I don’t care . . . I don’t care.

It’s awful, and it’s horrific, but I know what’s in your heart!

And if you need forgiveness, then I give it to you.

” Thomas pulls back, rubbing his thumbs over Charlie’s cheeks, holding his gaze.

“You must forgive yourself. It was war, and you made a terrible mistake. God will forgive you. And I know you are sorry. I see every day how sorry you are! But you can’t let this kill you, too.

Please . . . please just stay with me. Please let me help. ”

Charlie doesn’t think Thomas has really thought through what it is he’s forgiving, but he cannot bear to leave Thomas now—not after seeing what could become if he did.

He will have to trust that Thomas means what he says, and that he can live with what Charlie has done.

“I’ll stay,” he says. “Of course I’ll stay. ”

Thomas kisses his forehead, his eyelids, and the tears on his cheeks. Then Thomas’s mouth covers his, tenderly, once, twice, three times. “Are you able to talk about it? Can you tell me what happened?”

They help each other off the floor and get into bed. Charlie allows Thomas to hold him close and then he begins.

“We were moving through an abandoned village in Northern Italy. We’d been warned there might be a group of German soldiers hiding out in one of the houses.

But it was so quiet, Tommy. No signs of life.

No smoke comin’ outta any chimneys, no animals—just silence.

I was so damn tired. We were all so fuckin’ tired.

We’d been advancing for almost two months, always on high alert.

We were overdue a good blanket drill by at least two days.

I was strugglin’ to concentrate. Sometimes it felt like I was blinkin’ in and out for a few seconds .

. . like there were these little gaps in time.

” He stops talking, bile rising into his throat.

His breathing becomes increasingly labored.

“Darling, I’m here, and you’re safe. I’ll hold you if you struggle to breathe. But I think it’ll help to tell someone. Like going to confession. It’ll help unburden you.” Thomas strokes up and down his arm, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“It all happened so quick. I saw movement out the corner of my eye. Someone yelled “Kraut,” and I turned and fired. Sh–she fell instantly. I ran to her. I wanted to save her, but she was already dead.” Fresh tears fall silently down his cheeks as he tries to continue.

“The blood was pourin’ outta her little chest. I had somehow shot her straight through the heart.

She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten.

Fuckin’ hell, Tommy, she looked so much like Evie.

She was somebody’s child . . . probably somebody’s baby sister . . . and I fuckin’ took her life.”

Charlie cries then for a long time, Thomas gently rocking him and stroking his back until there are no more tears left.

And then he sleeps.

It’s late afternoon when he wakes. His body aches and his head pounds, but he feels lighter.

For the first time in weeks there is an ember of hope sparking in his chest. He can hear Thomas moving around in the kitchen and is drawn toward the noise.

Charlie awkwardly clears his throat as he enters the room, and Thomas stops what he’s doing and turns to regard him, green eyes loving and smile soft.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” He clears his throat again and forces himself to look at Thomas head on.

“Can ya forgive me for how I’ve been actin’?

I do want to get better. And this time I mean it.

When I found you this morning and thought you were having an episode, and that I caused it .

. .” He shakes his head. “I never wanna feel that way again.”

“Will you let me help you this time? Can we do it together?”

Charlie nods, choking up. “I need you. And I love you.”

“We need each other. We always have and we always will. Come here.”

Charlie walks into Thomas’s waiting arms, and this time, instead of leaving his left arm hanging limp at his side, he uses all of his strength to lift it, placing his palm to the curve of Thomas’s lower back.

He can’t hold it for more than a few seconds, but it’s something.

Day 41: Charlie

It’s been a week since his confession to Thomas on their bedroom floor, and it’s changed everything between them—and for the better.

As he finishes up in the shower, the knot of nerves in his belly grows.

But it’s good nerves, accompanied by excitement and arousal.

Thomas is in the bedroom waiting for him, undoubtedly lighting candles and trying to make the room as romantic as possible.

They’ve had sex in the last week, but only once, and tonight Charlie wants to take another step forward.

He grabs his towel and dries off, thinking about everything that’s happened since last Thursday.

They went to see Thomas’s doctor, who gave him sedatives to help him sleep.

He can’t remain on them forever, but for now they’re helping with the insomnia and to reduce the nightmares.

The doctor also assessed his arm and gave him a few new exercises to try.

And most importantly, he told Charlie that he isn’t crazy and that many other men returning from overseas are experiencing the same problems. The doctor wants to see him every couple of weeks and cautioned him about returning to the VA hospital where they might want to try experimental treatments on him.

Thomas trusts his doctor, so Charlie will too.

As far as Thomas goes, Charlie feels assured that his husband has forgiven him.

All the fears he was harboring about Thomas looking at him differently, about seeing him as evil, were completely unfounded.

If anything, Thomas looks at him with even more admiration and respect.

And so much love. Charlie hates that he ever doubted him.

Each day they’ve worked through Charlie’s exercises together, and after only one week of consistently applying himself, he already has more movement in his arm and more strength in his hand.

Thomas removed all the bottles from the house, and Charlie hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in seven days.

Thomas has joined him in a vow of sobriety.

He isn’t so naive as to think this is all over.

There is still a long way to go, and there will be setbacks, he’s sure, but he isn’t alone anymore.

He never was, he knows now. When he has those visions and his heart races and he struggles to breathe, he allows Thomas to hold him, and then afterwards he talks.

He talks about all the horrific things he’s seen.

About all the men he saw die. About his dear friend Johnson and how he still talks to him sometimes late at night. And Thomas listens without judgement.

After brushing his teeth he walks to the bedroom, not even bothering to put on any clothes.

Tonight, he wants to show Thomas how much he’s trying.

For the past two months he hasn’t wanted to think about his arm—too ashamed and embarrassed by it.

But it’s a part of him now, and in truth, it brought him back to Thomas.

He knows if he hadn’t been shot that day, he wouldn’t be here now.

There’s no way he would’ve made it much longer without making a fatal mistake.

He climbs into bed, enveloped by the loving arms of his husband, and accepts the body he’s been left with.

Thomas needs him just as much as he needs Thomas.

Thomas desires him and wants him, as imperfect as he is.

He welcomes his husband’s kisses while being tenderly prepared to receive him.

Thomas moves to position himself on top, but Charlie stops him, and for the first time since Bloomington, he encourages Thomas to lie back so he can straddle him.

Thomas watches him wide-eyed and breathy as Charlie rolls his hips sensually, taking control of his pleasure.

Reaching forward with his right arm, he entwines their fingers.

“Your other hand too, my darling.” Thomas takes Charlie’s damaged left arm and connects their hands.

Thomas provides the stability needed to increase his speed, and he moves on Thomas’s cock until he finds that perfect place inside him.

His arousal is high, like before, and his climax approaches with devastating speed.

“Yes, Charlie, take what you need. God, you’re so beautiful,” Thomas praises him. “I love you, my darling. I love you so damn much.”

Tears fall, but it’s happiness and relief and hope. “I missed this so much. You feel so good. I never thought I could feel this again.”

Thomas is so hard inside him. Their bodies glisten with sweat and their breaths are ragged and desperate.

Thomas presses up into him as Charlie continues to rock down.

Charlie is so close, his body tightening in preparation for release.

Drawing upon all his strength, he squeezes with his left hand, tightening his hold around Thomas’s fingers.

Thomas reacts instantly, joy blooming across his face. “Charlie!”

He kisses Thomas passionately, his body exploding with pleasure as all the pain, hurt, and grief flow out of him. It’s a fresh start, and he sits back up with a smile on his face.

“Come on, sweetheart.” It’s all the encouragement Thomas needs, and he comes inside him, and Charlie feels whole.

In the moments after, they whisper vows and declarations of love. And finally, finally, Charlie remembers who he is.