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“Marv! Some guy is here lookin’ for ya!”
“Ain’t the cops you answerin’ doors for now?”
”Would you get in here??”
Ten fuckin’ years. Ten whole fuckin’ years he’d spent since that night in New York. Ten motherfuckin’ years since he’d seen that face the same. The one that just showed up at the door frame looking like the same kicked dog that still wouldn’t lay off.
Vera stood impatiently and stared at Harry, as he approached their surprise guest. Guest? Was he even a guest? After ten fuckin’ years?
In this home? His mothers home that he’d swear his life upon, after she’d been good enough to let him come back- finally?
But it hasn’t been ten years since they’d met. Only a few. He’d gotten out before he had. Suffered, met his girl, and pushed on in life and tried to do better- and it didn’t matter, so he went right back to square one, crime all over again.
Changed his fuckin’ name even. He wasn’t even Marv- he didn’t have a clue how he ended up playing that game and hoping he’d never see the real one ever again, while also being unable to let go. He wasn’t Marv, he was Harry- and Marv was right here at the fuckin’ door.
Cleaned up. Hair cleaned up from jailbird buzz and growing into a tamed creature. Clothes decent. The only thing even close to criminal about him was the light dust of snow on his shoes, which seemed too nice for someone to even notice the fine granules.
Fuck. He was certain that getting dinged and ditched up from that fuckin’ New York kid was less of a smack to the face than the reappearance of somebody who’d actually meant everything to him, but he hadn’t ever said it to him.
Instead, he’d gone and taken the good he gave him for himself. His name, his side of the story, Marv was everything to him- even himself, and he didn’t even know it. Wasn’t that a bitch. Now he was standing there again. Maybe he did know? Or maybe he was here to kill him. It could be anything on that line segment of bad shit he’d could be reasoned with to do.
Marv had gotten stuck in jail longer, for behavior that Harry had encouraged. He’d get caught for trying to break out, he’d get blamed for starting a ruckus. Marv finally gave up, when the prison riot got him more time in there, and Harry just got his sentence reduced for “good time.”
Fuck.
”Harry.”
He couldn’t respond.
It wasn’t that he’d gone and legally changed his name to Marv’s. He just called it a nickname, and also didn’t really tell anyone his actual name unless it was federal, which he avoided at all costs. And also, he’d snap and go “don’t call me that.” To whoever called him that.
Vera didn’t even know, actually. Hell, they’d gotten married on either clears or darks two months into hectic dating, but neither of them remembered which one it had been.
Harry stared. What the fuck do you say? How?
”…Can we talk?”
”…Yeah.”
”…Can I come in?”
”Shit- yeah- c’mon.”
A cigarette that got forgotten from the shock was sitting in the ashtray on the nice mahogany dining table that they headed over to. His mom kept yelling at him for smoking in the house and ruining her property value, but she was never fuckin’ here even, so did it really matter?
”You want a drink?” Harry asked, gesturing to the kitchen.
”No thanks.”
They sat down quietly. He thought he’d rather stand but sitting was what they were all doing.
Vera too. She looked between them with a gaze that somehow managed both judgement and extreme interest. It wasn’t helping.
”Harry. I wanted to see how you were doin’.”
”And how’d you figure this one out? Where I was by now?”
Harry almost added a fond type of insult. Idiot, moron, one of his favorites. Those sweet-mean words seemed to catch, they didn’t follow anymore but they also felt like they should.
”Ain’t hard. I’m glad you’re doing’ good.”
Was this even fuckin’ Marv? The sense coming out of his mouth felt more wrong than his own empty feeling.
“You coulda just called.”
”I know you don’t like callin’.”
Fuck.
It came back around to him, all that easy. Being around. Being together. Fuck. Being thought of, working together, knowing each other like lock and key. Dumb fuckin’ brains working together like electricity currents that had purpose. Fuck. Fuck. His head spun. Why was it so easy? Wasn’t he tough? He’d been to jail two fuckin’ times- he was tough. So tough. He swallowed hard.
Vera didn’t do that. His mom didn’t. Nobody knew shit like that, not really. Nobody had cared or even lasted like Marv had. Vera was here for a good time and his mom was just doing some deal in a rich fucks house about some royal asses that she needed help with right now. Fuck. They were in-between runs right now even, scoping out the joint, just on break for five minutes.
“Marv…”
”I’m sorry I gave up on you. We probably could’ve got out, someday.”
”No- fuck- no you were…” Harry wasn’t going to say someone else was right. Never. “You were just protection’ yourself. Cover your ass, I know it. Makin’ smart choices for once.”
”I’m sure tryin’ to.”
”Looks like you are, look atcha- all cleaned up now? Better ‘n me.”
Neither spoke for a bit. Vera clicked her nails on the table. They both wished she’d go off and do something else.
Marv still spoke.
”I missed you in there. I know I’d ignored you in the end- that last year you were in. I missed you real bad after that.”
And that explained it. Missed you. When Harry had gotten out, he’d almost fucked himself over so much worse not having someone else to take care of. Marv often had at the very least inspired him to make sure they had a roof above their heads and clear heads to match, but as soon as he’d gotten out and been stuck alone, he’d sure as hell missed him too. When finally alone, self destruction was far more than powerful. He’d almost died a couple times, before he started to get over it.
And apparently, he hadn’t finished missing him. Despite his rise back up, he’d still been held back all this time.
It’s fuckin’ insane how much goes on in ten years.
”Yeah. I missed ya, Marv.”
A sweetness. A fondness. Rotten teeth worthy. Eyes welling up like fuckin’ babies. They stared from across the table. If this has been ten years ago they’d have reached for each others hands across it. Maybe a little more. Maybe their hands did move a little like it was ten years ago. An inch, a few. With their eyes holding a gaze that couldn’t be described as more than refreshed longing.
But this was ten years later.
And Vera was here.
”Alright, what the hell.” She huffed out.
They both looked to her, anything floating around in their heads was instantly broken like shattered plates. Glass busted in their brains.
”You guys’ names are flippin’? Are you two fuckin’ stupid?”
They couldn’t respond, but wouldn’t have been able to anyway, because she kept on.
”What’s all the gushin’ for, huh? You twose got some kind of bromance goin’ on that I don’ want aaaany part of.”
They still didn’t answer her. They just couldn’t. Apparently, that was her answer.
”Oh… Oh my God… Wait…”
”Baby- It ain’t like-“
”You twose are queers? Marv, youse gone and married me and ain’t told me?”
He didn’t really feel shame anymore. Not after rotting in federal for long enough. But still, a shame befell him. Maybe he fuckin’ was.
He had always tried to justify whatever the hell they did together. Excuses. Not gay, just got cold. Ain’t took anything off. Pretended it was a leggy blonde. Maybe he’d have given it more thought if he’d been running from the law a little less and caring a little more.
But chaste kisses goodbye had started to become a thing and so had “I love you’s” that were always worded like “Where the hell you been?”
Maybe he was queer. Maybe he was. Whatever the hell that entailed.
But, neither of them said anything. A silent confirmation. They wouldn’t just yell and lie and say they weren’t. It had been too long to do that. Maybe ten years ago, they would have. This, right now, was ten years later.
But this also wasn’t the spot to go and cry about it, Vera did it just fine for him.
”Good God- I think I wanna divorce.”
Pits in his stomach always hung around when people talked that way still. Sure, again, he’d tag along back in 1990 and say he wasn’t a fuckin’ faggot, even when he was. Nowadays, he’d give a shrug over the hate, and go, “It’s a free country.” Because that free country apparently also let free home robbers turned child hunters, so queer wasn’t so bad at all to him.
But it was to her, he assumed.
Marv assumed the same, he guessed. They exchanged a glance.
Marv hadn’t ever been so in denial. He’d never said I Love You but he also never said faggot like a crime. Ultimately, Marv had been the one to engage in whatever began between them, and Harry had just been doing the job of reciprocating it.
Marv was confident in it. He’d say queer and gay and pansy and all of it with a light heart, except faggot, because he had some respect.
”You serious?” Harry asked, as Vera’s huffed and puffed.
”Yea! Of course I’m serious? Youse goin’ and lyin’ to me about this gross shit? Thinkin’ it’s all good and well?” She stood up then with a loud slide of the chair. “We’re finishin’ up this damn job, and then we’re changing some shit.”
And with that, she left out.
It didn’t really hurt. It didn’t. Vera hadn’t ever been it- and she often didn’t mean what she said. Even if she was about to leave him over this and was serious about it, it just didn’t hurt all that bad.
If today was a normal day, he would’ve yelled out a good riddance over her nonsense. It wasn’t normal at all, today.
He’d just now became certain, as she went outside with a dramatic door slam, that her way of being a kicked dog that wouldn’t lay off, had just been his own ploy to still fill in his gaps. She bit, anyway. Marv never had, kicked dog and all.
It was quiet again.
And maybe, just maybe, hands reached across the mahogany table. Stained and lacquered wood with an ashtray burned down, all became a backdrop to their hands meeting again. Harry looked up, and at Marv. Eyes met, and Marv smiled. Harry couldn’t be sure what his own face did, but their hands were together for now, and maybe their lives could both change.
“So, how about flamin’ bandits?”
“How’s about that talk first, Marv. I think I got some apologizin’, to do also.”