Chapter 29

The lights in the bookstore seems to be dimmed, almost as if it is already closed, but a line of people standing in front of the bookstore to get in seems to speak of something entirely different.

"I thought there would be more people," Cameron sighs. "Was there more people when you met him E.J.?"

"Not that much more. But that day he also did a tv interview or something. I think this tour might be a bit smaller. It's been a while since he has published anything new."

"Well darlings! I can't wait to get my hands on the new book! I have been waiting for this one for far too long," Cameron ssays with a smile. "I know what I'll be doing tonight."

"I guess I know what the three of you will be doing tonight," I say as I take E.J's hand, which feels like an ice block. "When we're done here I want nothing more than a hot shower, and then a warm bed. But seriously, why on earth would they have a book signing at night?"

"Look handsome. You are clearly not a bookie like the rest of us. Also, Elijah is like the original emo boy writer. And we emo's are nocturnal. Get it?" Cameron says jumping up and down.

For a moment I think about jumping up and down as well. Maybe his intent is not excitement, but rather the same as mine - to stay warm.

"You can't be emo. You are dressed from head to toe in pink," I say, looking Cameron up and down and feeling a squeeze on my hand coming from E.J., making me look at him. "What? I'm serious. Isn't black more of an emo thing?"

"Oh gawd handsome! Oh my word! I don't even... We emo boys are not all doom and gloom on the outside. What matters is what we are on the inside, and I for one am part of a dead marching band, on the way to hell, searching for the meaning of this everlasting miserable life with every step I take," Cameron flares into one of his acting gigs and then pretends to faint into Will's arms.

"Okay sweetheart, that's enough," Will says, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile, as he helps Cameron back on his feet. "We don't need to overdo it just because Brody is a jock."

I look at them as Cameron puts his arms around Will's neck and kisses him deeply, wonder if I will ever be able to do that with E.J. I understand what he had said. I know where he is coming from. I will never be able to be the one that pulls him closer and kisses him, unless he does it first. Everything I do will have to be calculated to make sure that he always feels safe. That past memories do not come flooding back and hurt him more than what he had already been hurt. For a moment after our conversation at the restaurant I wanted to go back to the motel. Allow him to come here alone. This Elijah author feels like his world, feels like I am intruding upon it. I could feel he made this a part of his past, something he holds close. It was only until he took my hand and we walked down the street to the bookshop that I knew that he wanted me here right now. That maybe this was the simple ways he could show me intimacy. That maybe this is the only way he might ever let me truly close to him.

"They're opening the doors," E.J. says and for the first time tonight he breaks into a real smile. I have almost no idea about this author apart from the few things E.J. has said to me about him, but if he makes E.J. smile like this I would happily become this author's groupie, driving E.J. from town to town to hear the same book reading over and over if I have to.

With a quiet buzz of excitement we enter the bookshop to find that unlike usual bookstores where shelves lined the entire floorspace, most of them must have been removed to make room for lots of chairs, all lined to what seemed to be a small constructed stage next to a door with a STAFF ONLY sign on it.

"I need to be in front! I didn't wear all this pink to sit in the back and not be seen by him," Cameron whispers frantically, waving his arms to the very front row.

"Second row maybe?" I ask as I count that we would have to split up if Cameron would like to be in front.

"Sure, handsome," he answers with a smile. "I'm sure I'll be visible from there. He will be looking down on us after all."

I shake my head with a little grin across my face as I follow Cameron and Will, pulling E.J. by the hand behind me as we try to take our seats as soon as possible.

"A coffee would be nice about now," I say, spotting a little coffee bar at the far end of the room. "Is he going to be sitting on the stage and signing the books?"

"Elijah does everything differently than what normal authors do. There's probably not going to be a normal reading of him just sitting with a book. He doesn't read. Never. He makes you a part of the book, and that's what makes him so magical," E.J. says and I can feel his body shaking.

"Are you nervous, or excited?" I ask, squeezing his hand again and pulling both our hands onto my lap so I can wrap my other hand around his as well.

"A little bit of both, I think. I like seeing him. Sometimes it feels like looking into a mirror. When I read his books, it sometimes feels like he is the only person in the world that actually understands how I feel," he answers, and this time, unexpectedly leaning his head onto my shoulder, almost making me jump. But I take my chance and inch a little bit closer to him, until I can feel his hair tickling my neck, and his body heat radiating against mine.

"E.J?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," I whisper, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.

"I love you too," he whispers almost inaudibly before shifting his head and giving me a very quick kiss on the cheek.

"I wish I could understand you. Understand everything you have been through."

E.J. takes his head of my shoulder and sits upright before he loosens his hand from mine, taking his hand and positioning my face so that our eyes meet.

"I never, ever want you to say that again. I never want you to understand, because that would mean that you would have to live my past, and I would never wish that on anybody. So... All I want from you is to understand when I need space. But how I feel? Don't think I want you to feel that. I feel enough for both of us on that subject. Your work is to distract and maybe one day my memories will fade away and I won't have to think about them anymore. You should rather consent..."

But I don't register the end of E.J's sentence, because all of a sudden everything is dark around us, and I search for E.J's hand in the dark, making sure he is there next to me.

"A darkness filled me. It was touchable. It was bendable. And it bent me over backwards, engulfing me in the fury of its fight against the light. Sucking every resemblance of hope from me. Like a dementor, a demon, a gory supernatural ghost of maleficent nature, it compressed me into silence where I remained hidden. Afraid to face the world. Afraid to face the mirror. Afraid to face myself and see the things I have left unseen after I broke and the world came tumbling down around me.

And I knew it was him. It had always been him. He had been my light. He was the one that could save me, and yet... Somehow... Somewhere through the darkness, I knew I had to save myself. Blake was my past. My present. My future?

But the future was gone. My future was gone. There was nowhere to turn as I wrote my plees in ink made from the blood that came seeping out of the gaps of my own flesh. The rips in my skin that would never heal, even when they became scars, fading lighter and lighter over the passage of time."

A loud bang echoed through the bookshop.

The lights went on, blinding me for a second where I needed of blink my eyes once or twice before I recognised him sitting on a bar stool on the stage.

He looked exactly the way he did in the photos I have seen of him online, and the interviews I have watched seconds off over E.J's shoulder. His hair, long and covering his face. The black jean, clinging to his body. A long sleeve black shirt with no recognizable branding. Almost like a boogeyman, if a boogeyman could be handsome that is.

He did not look at his audience, even when E.J. loudly sucked in his breath. Not even when Cameron fanned himself dramatically in a blur of neon pink, the glitter of his nails, sparkling in the dimmed light of the bookshop that had somehow been transformed in atmosphere within a few minutes from just another shop, to a cavern of loneliness and despair.

"Elijah Turner everybody!" a man in red says loudly, walking up to the stage and taking the barstool opposite him.

"For those who don't know, Elijah Turner is the bestselling author of Emotional Amnesia, Truth and Dare, and off course, his latest work from which we just had a bit of a teaser, Dark Lamenting."

Everyone clapped their hands and I followed suit, even if it almost felt wrong. Even the presenter seemed to cheerful for the mood that had been created by the deep voice that spoke about the darkness.

"So Elijah, firstly I would like to thank you for being here with us today," the presenter says.

"Thank you for having me Liam," he answers, and immediately I can see the attraction E.J. has to him. Not the physical looks maybe, although they do have a similar fashion sense, and I can remember E.J.'s hair being styled like that when I first met him. But something in the eyes. Something sad. Something that tells you that they are not really here. They have the same way of looking like they need to be protected from the world and all the monsters in it.

"You just completed yet another book, and again it seems to hit off as a best seller right away. How many best sellers have you had?"

"This would be number eleven," Elijah answers.

"And all of them seem to have a theme? They are all centred around the death of the person you loved most in the world?" the interviewer asks, which makes me squirm a little bit in my seat. I know Elijah has written about some hectic stuff, and yet it still seems to me like this guy is prying just a little bit into something that's too personal.

"All but two of them. One was about my husband and falling in love with him. The other came a little bit later on about the death of my guardian," Elijah says.

"Elijah doesn't really elaborate in any of his answers, does he?" I whisper to E.J. who just puts his finger up to his lips, showing me to stay silent.

"You are known by your fans as Silent Elijah, but with eleven published books behind your name, that's hardly a truth, is it?" The interviewer gives a little laugh as if he is making a joke, looking at the audience to see if someone will laugh with him, but at best he gets a wry smile or two before turning his attention back to Elijah.

"There's many words in silence Liam. I think my fans understand that. Sometimes you do not have to say a single word in order to convey a thousand concepts of understanding. In the same manner you could very easily speak a million words and still be saying nothing at all," Elijah answer, then he looks at the audience and crosses his two index fingers over his lips, and for the first time the entire audience apart from me breaks out in applause. Some like E.J. get to they feet, in the back some cheer louder than the clapping, and some, Cameron included decides that the best way to make themselves heard would be to climb onto their chairs and cheer from above.

This seems to fuel Elijah quite a bit, who takes out a black marker from his pocket, and then, without looking in a mirror, draws a black X over his lips.

"Oh my gawd! Look at him! He is fucking amazing!" Cameron yells over the cheers to E.J. who seems to be jumping up and down, a smile plastered across his face in one of the happiest moments I have ever seen him in.

For what feels like ten minutes, the audience keeps on clapping until Elijah puts the marker away and lifts just one hand to silence the crowd.

"So this means the interview between the two of us is over?" Liam asks Elijah, who doesn't utter a word and just nods, making me almost feel sorry for the guy who looks like his favourite food had just been taken away from him.

"He can't be serious?" I ask E.J. who nods. "But he has only asked him like five questions."

"That's just the way Elijah is. When he is done talking he draws the cross and he won't answer any further interview questions. He has explained this. His work is deeply personal, and when he feels he is getting emotionally vulnerable he stops the interview. It's for his own mental health. But don't worry. He might take a few questions from the audience. He usually does," E.J. says smiling as if Elijah silencing himself is the best thing to ever happen.

"So this is his way of taking control of his emotions?" I ask.

"Exactly," E.J. answers as Elijah stands up from the stool, and walks to the edge of the little stage.

To my surprise he points straight at me.

I look behind me. To my side, at E.J. smiling, and I can feel him nodding me in the ribs with his elbow.

"He is allowing you to ask a question. Stand up and ask!" E.J. hisses at me.

With no question in mind I get to my feet.

"I... Well... I don't think I have a question... I'm actually here with my boyfriend," I stumble over my words, but when I look at E.J. smiling next to me at the word 'boyfriend', I know exactly what I would like to ask. "But maybe I do have a question. Would you mind if I give my question to him? You are his favourite author, and you have meant the world to him. And I don't always understand it, because I guess I'm not a big reader, and I don't know your work... And maybe it's just because I run away from my feelings most of the time, but to be honest... I still want to give my question to him. He deserves it."

I watch as Elijah's lips break into a smile, pulling the cross over it slowly apart.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Brody," I answer.

"Well Brody. I'll take it as a sign that your name also starts with a B, because there is something about you that reminds me a little bit about Blake. So what's your boyfriend's name?" he asks, without breaking eye contact with me.

"E.J. His name is E.J.," I answer before I hastily sit down, pushing E.J. to get up.

"Hi E.J.," Elijah says. "You look very familiar."

"We've met before," E.J. answers. "Around the time your third book came out. I won a competition to personally meet you. You didn't do a lot of interviews at the time," E.J. says and I am amazed how easily he just speaks in front of all the people. It's like watching him in a small dim light in the middle of a dark room. Only he and Elijah exist.

"You gave me a manuscript?" Elijah asks. "The memoir about what your dad did to you?"

"You read it?" E.J. asks, and I can see him beginning to shake, which makes me reach out for his hand, but he pulls away immediately.

"Yes. It was dark. I can't imagine what you must have gone through. What you must have felt. And I am really, truly sorry for what happened to you," Elijah answers.

E.J. doesn't answer him back. He only nods. I know he is close to tears. He has been called out in front of all these people. I believed I was doing something good, but here I am, messing up as always, and there is nothing I can do to keep E.J. from being upset.

"Do you have a question?"

"Did... Would... Well, your mom. Did you ever forgive her?" E.J. asks, and I can hear the quiver in his voice, making me want to drag him from the room and take him somewhere he can escape his past. Somewhere he can truly be free from what had happened.

"Forgiveness is a peculiar word. I think it depends on your belief system. I can't say I believe in forgiveness. Forgiveness is just something the other party wants in order to feel better about what they did to you. So in that way... No. I never forgave her and I guess I never will. I think you should rather ask if I am at peace with her, in which case the answer is yes. I have peace with what she did. She probably did what she thought was best at the time. I just prefer to not have her in life after what she had done. Sometimes you need to leave certain people in the past and move on. As the saying goes; the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

And then, like he had barely seen E.J. his eyes move over the audience again and he picks someone far behind me as Elijah sinks back into his chair.

"Are you okay?" I ask E.J. touching his hand, allowing him to take mine softly in his.

"I don't want to go home Brody. I don't want to see her again. I don't think I will ever be able to really move on as long as she is in my life. I don't want to face her ever again," he whispers as he brings my hand up to his face and use the back of my hand to wipe away his tears.