Gus boffed him playfully in his shoulder. “Get off. You’re Shang all the way.”
Matt straightened, blushing a little. “Really? You think so?”
Rasul grinned. “I agree completely.”
Jacob loved this game. “Who are you, Gus?”
“I’m clearly Meg.” He sipped his coffee with an arch look.
Matt rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do the rest of the QUAG gang.”
They all had a good time assigning roles to their friends—Owen was immediately dubbed the Beast, and Erin was Belle. Jared was Anna from Frozen, and Nick was Hercules. Simon was Ariel. They struggled with Jack until Rasul declared him to be Jim Hawkins. When everyone else didn’t know who that was and said they hadn’t seen Treasure Planet, Rasul threw up his hands and insisted they have a movie night as soon as he turned in his book.
“Oh, hey, being here with the three of you reminds me.” Rasul turned to Jacob. “How’s your candidacy going? Is that codger still bothering you?”
Jacob sighed. “Yes, but I’m trying to hold my own. There’s not much to do but keep showing up places, trying not to look bothered.”
Gus waved a finger at him. “Not true. The chamber ball is coming up. You can make a killer raffle basket for the auction.”
Rasul shook his head. “You guys are always having parties in this town. Is there dancing at this one too?”
“Always dancing.” Gus laughed. “Though I doubt anything will ever top your show at the university gala last year.”
Matt waggled his eyebrows at Gus. “Maybe you’ll take Ben to the ball this year?”
Gus swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t even dare give him that idea.”
Matt turned a twinkling gaze to Jacob. “Any chance you’ll let me start you a custom suit this time?”
Jacob started to decline, but Rasul elbowed him gently. “You’ve got to let him. Matt’s a genius, and he’ll set you up right.”
Jacob frowned. “But he wants to make it flashy, I just know it.”
Instead of ribbing Jacob as expected, Matt frowned back, looking affronted. “Hey. I know who you are, what you like, what you don’t. I wouldn’t put you in something that would make you uncomfortable.”
Gus nodded. “I agree. Besides, he’ll consult you on the way. Let him do this.”
Why everyone suddenly wanted Jacob to have a suit, he couldn’t begin to guess. “It’s too expensive a gift, especially for something I’d rarely wear.”
“Oh, you’ll wear it.” Matt’s eyes sparkled, and Jacob realized there was no escaping now.
He sighed. “Fine.”
“And you won’t pay for it either,” Matt added. When Jacob started to sputter, Matt held up his hand. “No arguments. It’ll be your Christmas present.”
“Christmas and birthday present.” Jacob folded his arms over his chest and stared Matt down.
“I can work with that.” Matt sighed. “Honestly, with the way everything is going, I’m going to need that much time.”
“Certainly no need to rush.” Jacob turned to the others. “Can we please talk about something else now?”
They planned their respective business baskets for a little while, but eventually they declared it was late and everyone took their leave. As Matt and Rasul chatted near the door, Gus pulled Jacob back.
“Hey, I was meaning to tell you. You might want to go pop onto the Instagram of that model he used to date. She’s posting some interesting stuff.” When Jacob cut a glance to Rasul, Gus shook his head. “No. Don’t get him involved yet. I don’t want to harsh his groove. But maybe log in sometime and check. I’m probably overthinking things, but I wanted to give somebody a heads-up.”
“Got it,” Jacob said.
Rasul didn’t have the haunted look he’d had when he arrived anymore, and as Jacob bid him goodbye, Rasul assured him with a peck on his cheek that he was great now and was hurrying home to get some writing in before he had to go to bed.
When Jacob got home, he didn’t go to bed, either. After feeding the cats, he curled up on the couch with his iPad and purchased Moana.
He’d seen the movie when it first came out, going with Matt and Gus because, as they’d lamented, the Lin-Manuel Miranda–penned songs in it were as close as they were going to get to Hamilton. Never had it occurred to Jacob to identify with the heroine, however, not on the level Rasul suggested. So he revisited the tale with new eyes that night before he went to bed.
It was a great film, and the music, especially the Miranda-penned songs, were amazing. To his astonishment, he was able to see why Rasul compared him to Moana. He had left his island wanting to see the world. He had decided home was better, but that perhaps home could be slightly more open-minded. Even his loss was represented, in several ways. And he did relate to the idea that he could only venture forward with the backing of his people. The ones he got along with, and the ones he struggled to accept.
What got him, as always, was when Moana gave Te Fiti her heart back.
He’d wept in the theater without knowing why, but revisiting the scene now, it resonated all the way into his core, into his own heart. Because despite what Rasul had said, Jacob had been Te Fiti. It was Rasul, through his work, who had walked boldly up to him and shown him who he was, reminded him that only he defined who he was. That despite loss and devastation, he could make himself okay.
At the same time, he did understand that now, for Rasul, the roles had reversed. Except the metaphor was so much stronger this time. Like Te Fiti to Moana, Rasul had been the one to show Jacob what strength meant. Now it was Jacob’s privilege to hold up a mirror for his hero, his friend, his lover.
To hand him back his heart. To help him heal himself so he could go back to healing everyone who read his work.
Would it hurt if Rasul left Copper Point once his tenure was up, if at best Jacob received the occasional email? Yes. It absolutely would. But he wouldn’t say no to this relationship, not anymore, not ever again. Because Rasul wasn’t a god. He was a man who got lost the same as Jacob did.
It would be his honor, Jacob thought, to show him the way home. Wherever that home might be.
Chapter Twelve
BY CHRISTMAS, Rasul lost all sense of time and space.
His class on break, his office hours suspended, with Jacob and practically the whole town teaming up to stock his fridge and even, to his chagrin and humility, doing his laundry, Rasul practically lived in his manuscript. The fact that he wrote about two people manipulating time and space didn’t help him either. Several times he’d worked so long his wrists and forearms screamed, and he had to go to the Chinese masseuses out in the strip mall to regain functionality, and even while they worked on him, his mind raced ahead to fill in the spaces in the story still needing attention. On the rare occasions he spent time with other humans in a conversational setting, he fell asleep midsentence regularly. Jacob and the others took to not only bringing over food but seeing that he ate it, and despite the bitter December cold, Jacob frequently walked Rasul’s zombified self along the greenbelt to give him a moment’s grounding in reality.
Christmas was a kind of dream, Jacob taking over the meal despite Rasul’s original promise to do the cooking. They snuggled together in Jacob’s living room after, a holiday movie playing that didn’t remotely register with Rasul because his brain wouldn’t stop writing.