21.
Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
SAGE THE First:
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I mutter to Kori as I follow the group up the sidewalk on Fourth Avenue to a bar called Jack It. “Nobody in the world should ever wear skinny jeans. I look ridiculous.” And I do. In addition to the bright blue skinny jeans, I’m wearing a tight white shirt that barely covers my stomach, and my hair is flipped up and messy, held in place by some aptly named product called Cement. I look like a hipster douchebag.
She glances over at me with a wry grin, her hair freshly curled around her face. “Oh please,” she says. “You look fucking hot. Well, you would if you’d stop walking like you have a butt plug up your ass.”
“I have to,” I argue. “It’s the only way people won’t be able to tell that I’m circumcised. Why do you even own pants like this? They’re a torture device!”
“It’s all to show off the goods.”
“I don’t want to show off my goods. Besides, whatever happened to inner beauty shining through for all the world to see? We’re not shallow people.”
“Inner beauty doesn’t catch your eye from across the room,” she says. “Your ass in those pants does, though.”
“I don’t need to attract attention. As a matter of fact, the less attention I, an underage patron in a bar, can attract, the better.”
“It’s already a little late for that,” she says, sounding amused. “Someone can’t keep their eyes off you.”
“Who?” I ask, looking around. Dom glances back at me and smiles, then continues his conversation with Vince. My heart does a weird little flip in my chest.
“God,” Kori says. “How can someone so smart be so completely stupid?”
“It’s just a phase,” I say. This is where I’ve decided I’m at now. I tried to love him, and it didn’t work. I tried ignoring him, and it didn’t work. I tried blocking my feelings, and it didn’t work. I tried accepting them and moving on, and it didn’t work. Now, being the fickle twenty-year-old that I am and making flip choices at the drop of a hat, I’ve decided it’s just a combination of hero worship, brotherly affection, and dirty thoughts combining into adolescent fantasy. Which, in the end, is just a phase I’m going through.
And have been for four years, it reminds me. But sure! It’s just a phase.
Just a couple more months, I tell it. Then I’m gone, back to New Hampshire, where I will focus on my life and make sure I get done what needs to be done.
That’s cool. I’m sure the first step toward responsible adulthood is those jeans you’re wearing. At least now we know what it feels like to have a rescinded testicle.
Shut up, I tell my crazy.
“We can’t stay that late,” I remind Kori. “Dom and I have to start driving back to Tucson in the morning.”
“Live a little,” Kori says. “Think of tonight as the first night of the rest of your life. Or the last night of carefree youth before you become a boring college student again. Lord knows you’re not going to have any fun back in Seafare the rest of the summer.”
“You sure about this?” I ask her. “You know, staying in Tucson? We haven’t really had a chance to talk about this.”
“We tried,” she reminds me. “Rather, I did. You pouted and refused to discuss it with me.”
“I never pouted.” I totally did.
“Sure, Ty. And yes, I think I’m sure.”
“You think?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I know.”
“Tucson wasn’t great for you.”
“Seafare wasn’t great for you, yet it’s still your home.”
“I guess.”
She takes my hand in hers. “Ty, it’s not always as hard as you’re making it out to be. It wasn’t this place that was awful for me growing up. It was certain people. People who should have never been parents of any kind, fosters or not. Health professionals who had no business dealing with a terrified bigendered kid who thought he was going crazy for waking up some mornings thinking he was a woman. Tucson did none of that to me. It was the people. And I want to make sure that never happens to another scared kid ever again. That’s why I got my bachelor’s in social work. That’s why I want to work here. And I can continue on for my master’s at the U of A.”
“Kids need help everywhere,” I say, though I know my argument is born out of selfishness.
She squeezes my hand. “I know. But this is where I’m from. I’ve got good people around me now. My story isn’t in New Hampshire. Or Seafare, like yours is. I think maybe my story is here. And I want to see how it unfolds.”
“You’re scared, though.”
“Yeah. A little.” She sighs. “Maybe a lot. How’d you know?”
“You’ve been girl-Kori more than boy-Corey lately. She comes out more when you’re nervous or worried. Or scared.”
“She makes me feel safe,” she says.
“And that’s how you make me feel,” I tell her.
“Yet, you still couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s not you,” I say quickly. “That’s… that’s a whole host of other things. My mother, my life, my disorder. Take your pick. I’m kind of messed up in the head.”
“Ty? When was the last time you had an attack? Like full-blown attack you had when we first got to Seafare?”
“Only like… huh. I don’t really know.” How weird is that? There have been times it was close, but has it been weeks? Has it really?
“That should tell you something right there.”
“Like what?”
She shakes her head. “For your sake, I hope you figure it out.”
“This sucks,” I mumble.
“What?”
“That I’m sad in skinny jeans. It’s the worst.”
She laughs and pulls me to a stop. She hugs me tightly, and she smells so good and feels so familiar that I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. “This won’t be good-bye,” she says in my ear. “This will never be good-bye. You’re stuck with me for life, Ty. Whether you realize it or not, there’s something about you that pulls people in and makes them never want to leave. Trust me when I say this is as hard on me as it is you.”
“Maybe I can just stay with you,” I say. “Sandy wouldn’t mind me living there, too, right? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t fail at that, at least.”
Kori pulls away, but only just, and kisses me lightly on the lips. She tastes like berries. “Can I give you a bit of advice? All joking aside.”
“All joking aside.”
“And don’t get mad.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Ty, I’m serious.”
“Okay.”
“Stop thinking.”
“What?”
“You’re too much up here,” she says, tapping my forehead. “And not enough here.” She taps my chest, where my heart thuds. “Stop thinking about how you think you’re broken or how you think you’re a failure.”
“But I am a fail—”
“Tyson. Stop.”
Wonder of all wonders, I do.
“You are the strongest, bravest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” she says, touching my cheek. “You’ve made me a better person just by being in my life. And I promise you with all that I have that great things are waiting for you if you stop thinking and listen to your heart. If you do, you’ll see exactly what you’re supposed to.”
“Why does this sound like good-bye?” I ask her, sniffling.
She laughs. “Silly boy. I told you. You’re stuck with me for life. And I plan on living for a very long time. Who knows what kind of trouble I’ll make now that I’m home?”
That doesn’t seem long enough, but I’ll take what I can get. She takes my hand again and pulls me toward the bar where the others wait.
SAGES THE Second and Third:
It’s surprisingly easy getting into the bar, even though it’s technically illegal for me. Sandy had come early to prepare for Helena’s show, but has left word with the bouncer that I’m to be admitted. It’s exciting, because I’ve never been on a VIP list before.
“No alcohol,” the bouncer warns me in gruff tones. “You stay up in the Queen’s Lair until the show’s over, and if I catch you with one drop of alcohol in your little twinkie body, I’ll break you in half on my cock and then throw you out.”
Now it’s not exciting anymore.
“I won’t,” I promise weakly. “I’m a recovering addict, so I won’t drink.”
He stares at me.
“Not alcohol,” I say quickly. “Mood stabilizers. I’m so over it, though.”
“Tyson, it’d probably be best if you didn’t speak anymore,” Paul says, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.
We step inside the bar, and I’m immediately assaulted by loud music, writhing bodies, and flashing lights. But before I can even worry about getting pulled through the crowd, Paul opens a hidden door on the wall and we climb up a flight of dimly lit, creaky wooden stairs. We reach the top before he lets me go.
The lights are soft up here, and there’s a large vanity, complete with exposed bulbs outlining the mirror. Scattered across the vanity are eyeliner, lipstick, and falsies, both eyelashes and boobs. Wigs sit on mannequin shelves around the room, and there’s a dressing screen with imprints of Dolly Parton’s face and bust.
The Queen’s Lair, indeed.
“Is this all Helena’s?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Sure is,” Paul says. “And trust me when I say you should feel privileged. Most people never get to come up here.”
“Where do all the other queens get ready?”
Paul points toward a balcony that overlooks the dance floor and the DJ. “There’s a separate changing room for them. But Sandy’s the best, so she gets the best.”
“Wait until you see her perform,” Kori says, coming up behind me. “It’s a sight to behold.”
“I’m going to take Dom and buy him a beer,” Vince says from the stairwell. “I want to know if he’s ever been shot at. I’ll bring you your vodka cranberry, Paul.”
“You’ve been shot at?” Darren says, eyebrows rising. “Dude, I want to hear. And I want beer.”
“I want something fruity,” Kori says. “And I want to hear too.”
“You want anything?” Dom asks me.
I shake my head, and as they leave, I hear Vince ask Dom if he’s ever gotten into a gunfight with drug lords at a crack den, to which Dom replies, “Well, there was this one time….”
“Men,” Paul mutters. “And Kori. Come, twinkie.”
I don’t even protest it anymore.
There’s an older man, at least in his seventies, sitting on a stool on the balcony, positioning a video camera and spotlight down toward the floor below. He’s a big man, built like a tree trunk. He may be old, but he looks like he can still kick ass.
“Hi, Daddy,” Paul says, sitting next to him on another stool.
Huh. I didn’t know Paul’s dad worked here. That’s weird. And he calls him Daddy? Creepy.
“Boy, what was all the ruckus?” the old man asks. “You know Sandy doesn’t like people up here.”
“Sandy’s opening up the Queen’s Lair membership for the weekend,” Paul says. “This is Tyson.”
The old man turns to look at me, squinting his eyes. “Jesus, boy. Where’d you get this one? Elementary school? I didn’t think Sandy was a chicken hawk.”
Paul snorted. “This is Tyson. Kori’s friend. From Oregon. He’s staying the weekend. He’s the one Sandy told you about.”
“The genius?”
“One and the same.”
“Come over here, boy!” he barks at me. “Let me see you good and proper. Double step, before I change my mind and put you over my knee.”
That’s not threatening at all. But I’m standing in front of him before I even know I’m moving.
“Well, if you’re not just a little thing,” he says, his kind smile belying the gruff exterior. “And smarter than all of us combined, or so I hear.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “But it’s nice to meet you. Paul didn’t tell me his dad worked here.”
They both laugh long and loud, and I have no idea what I’ve said to get such a reaction.
“He’s not my dad,” Paul says, wiping his eyes. “He’s an old leather queen. I call him Daddy because he likes it. His name is Charlie.”
“Old leather queen,” Charlie says with a scowl. “It’s still not too difficult for me to take a strap to your bare bottom. I believe your feller wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Paul says. “Let’s not scare Tyson.”
“It’s just him and Kori?” Charlie asks.
Paul shakes his head. “No. Tyson’s boyfriend is here too. You should see him, Charlie. He’s bigger than Darren. I think he was injected with some kind of radioactive material when he was a kid and now he’s all Hulked out. His veins have veins. I work out for six months and the only thing I have to show for it is rash on my butt crack from where I sweat too much.”
“Which one is he?” Charlie asks, leaning over the railing. “I see Vince… and Darren… and Kori… and a brick wall with legs….” He waves and smiles. I follow his line of sight and see everyone from our group waving back up at us.
“Brick wall with legs,” Paul says.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say. “Oh, and put talcum powder in your butt crack before you work out. You won’t get the rash.”
“Not your boyfriend?” Paul asks, sounding shocked. “You guys just fucking or something?”
My face burns. “No, we’re not fucking.”
“Wow, that’s a shame.”
“He’s not gay.” You sure about that?
Paul laughs. “Sure, Ty.”
“He’s not.” Well. Maybe.
He stops laughing. “Whoa. Wait. You’re serious?”
“Uh, yes? Yes. He’s my best friend.” Right? Still? “Well, we used to be best friends. There was… stuff… that happened.” Oh, way to sound sane. Good job! “I’d know if he liked…. We… oh, never mind!”
“Oh you poor, blind twinkie,” Paul says sadly as he shakes his head. “Unrequited love is the hardest kind.”
“It’s not unrequited!”
“Oh, he loves you back? Then what’s the issue?”
“I’m not… we’re…,” I sputter. “There’s no basis for… what….”
“Funny,” Charlie says. “I’m getting a weird little flash of déjà vu here. I’ve only seen your—how did you put it?—used-to-be best friend for a minute, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you. Not even when Vince there is talking to him.”
I look down. In the bright flashes of light, in the pounding of the bass, my gaze locks onto Dom’s. He says something to Vince, but he never breaks our gaze. I’m the one who looks away.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” I say.
“Nice try, Tyson,” Paul says. “But I already went that route up here. That shit don’t fly no more.”
“Good boy,” Charlie says with a smile. “That shit definitely don’t fly.”
“He’s not gay?” Paul asks me.
“No,” I say firmly, even if I don’t quite believe my own words.
“Oh, so you’ve asked him?”
“Well… no.”
“Huh. So you just assumed, huh?”
“He was married! He has a son!”
“Oh, right,” Paul says, rolling his eyes. “Because he had some vaginal meanderings and spawned the fruit of his loins, he can’t possibly want to plow you like a field. There’s this happening new craze. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called bisexuality.”
“Or latent homosexuality,” Charlie says. “I didn’t come out until I was in my forties. Married, kids, the whole nine yards. They… they didn’t take it well. Haven’t heard from ’em in years.” He looks down at the dance floor below. Paul reaches over and takes his hand and squeezes it. Suddenly, all my problems seem minute in comparison.
“I’ve got issues,” I say because it’s really the last line of defense I’ve got. God, I sound so fucking ridiculous.
“Oh, what kind?” Paul asks. “I’m pretty sure that, among all of us, we’ve probably got you covered.”
“Parental issues. My mom kind of… sucked.”
“Oh, please,” Paul scoffs. “Vince’s mom just died last year. His dad, the bastard mayor of Tucson, is also Darren’s dad, who hates gays. Our illustrious mayor cheated on Vince’s mom with Darren’s mom. Sandy’s parents died when we were sixteen. Kori was raised in foster care. It’s not that hard to have shitty parents.”
And Dom’s mother was murdered in front of him by his father. “What about your parents?” I ask Paul.
“Me? I’ve got the worst ones of all.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hushed, sure that Paul was probably some kind of crack baby (which would really explain a lot) and was sold into a Afghani slave ring and only recently found his freedom and love in the arms of a supermodel.
“Oh hush,” Charlie says. “Paul’s parents are just about the most wonderful people to exist.”
“They’re too accepting!” Paul exclaims. “They still think Vince is my Master and I’m his sex pony! And they love it.”
I laugh. It feels good.
“Okay, what else you got, kid?” Charlie asks me.
“I’m a certified genius diagnosed with panic disorder who got addicted to the meds that were supposed to help me and practically flunked out of Dartmouth while there on a full scholarship.”
Paul waves his hand at me. “That’s nothing. Once I thought I was confused about my sexuality, and I got drunk and went down on a girl from my English class and was able to tell what she’d had for dinner the day before.”
“Oh dear Lord in heaven,” I manage to say.
“That was gross,” Charlie says. “Even for you.”
Paul shrugs. “My point is that people’s problems are all relative once you put them in perspective. This addiction thing. You done with that?”
“Well, they say once an addict, always an addict.”
“Bullshit,” he says. “Are you done with it?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“And you’re super smart.”
“So they tell me.”
He arches an eyebrow at me.
I sigh. “Yes. I am.”
“And this flunking thing, can it be fixed?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe. I just need to find direction.”
“I work in insurance in a cubicle that kills me a little more each day,” Paul says. “Trust me when I say you’ve got time. Figure it out.”
“Okay.”
“And that leaves the panic-disorder thing.”
“You freak out?” Charlie asks.
“Sometimes. Not for a while.”
“Like, panic attacks?”
“Yeah. Feels like earthquakes. Had them since I was a kid. My brother….”
“Your brother?” Paul asks.
“My brother. He… raised me. He protected me from them. We didn’t know it was panic disorder until later. He helped me. To learn to breathe.” Amongst other things.
“And breathing helps?” Charlie asks.
“Breathing is the hardest thing. When it hits.”
“But you’re a genius,” Paul says.
“Well, yeah.”
“Then why can’t you figure out a way to breathe? Seems to me the body does it on its own. You just have to trust it knows what to do. It’s not physical. It’s all in your head.”
“That’s the part I can’t get over.”
“Why not?”
“My brain is wired… differently.”
Paul laughs. “Not so differently that you can’t kick its ass. Look, I’m not talking about the power of positive thinking, and I’m not saying the cure for you is some kind of magical dick, because that won’t work. You need to fix yourself. It’s that easy. And if you’re as smart as everyone touts you to be, then it should be simple. You got to find what the blockage is, then blow it the fuck up.”
“It’s not that….” It’s not that easy? Since when? And why the fuck shouldn’t it be? “Holy sweat balls,” I say. I might be the smartest twenty-year-old full-blown ecoterrorist on the planet, but apparently I’m pretty goddamn slow on the uptake.
“Aha!” Paul says. “Now he gets it. Paul saves the day yet again.”
“I don’t think I get it,” Charlie says.
“I don’t either,” Paul admits. “But the twink does. You can see it in his eyes. Tyson, if I could tell you one thing—and remember, I’m fat, I blab too much, I think too hard, and I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time—it would be that no matter what, you thank your lucky stars every single goddamn day that you’re alive and that someone loves you as much as they do. I didn’t know that for the longest time.” He looks down at Vince, and the love that fills his eyes knocks the breath from my chest, but in a good way. “I may be a new convert, and it’s cheesy as all fucking hell, and I swear to God, if you tell anyone I said this, I’m going to bury you in the desert, but love conquers all. It’s cliché. It’s sappy. It sounds awful. But love fucking conquers all. And until you let it conquer you, you don’t know shit. Stop being a fucking dumbass and open your fucking eyes.”
“I’m so proud of you, boy,” Charlie says. “Who knew you had it in you?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Paul says, throwing his hands over his head. “Can we please stop being big soppy vaginas and go back to being snarky assholes?”
But I can’t answer him. Because Dom is all I see.
And he doesn’t look away.
SAGE THE Fourth:
Kori pulls me down to the floor right before the show comes on, telling me it’s imperative that I be in the front row to witness the glory that is Helena Handbasket. I find myself sandwiched between her and Dom. Vince stands on Dom’s other side. They seem to have hit it off, which makes me weirdly happy and not even remotely the least bit jealous at all. (The glances I try and sneak might suggest otherwise—apparently I’m not very subtle, because Kori is snickering at me and elbowing me in the side. Jerk.) It really doesn’t help that people are crowding in around us, and I’m practically plastered up against Dom, and every now and then, I feel his large hand at the base of my spine, just a touch, but the electricity that shoots through my skin is like I’ve been struck by lightning, and I don’t dare try and move toward it. Or away. I’m paradoxical. And a chickenshit.
And then she enters the world.
There’s a flash of light. The crowd sighs. A nasty beat kicks up from the speakers all around us, and the spotlight zeroes in on the stage. The beat intensifies and thrums through me. A hand appears from behind the curtain, the nails long and sharp and bright red. People scream around me. The hand curls up and one finger extends and curls, telling us all, Come here. Come here and let’s get dirty.
The song explodes and the curtains part and Helena Handbasket writhes onto the stage, hair huge, costume glittery and tight and almost nonexistent (and from a purely scientific standpoint, I wonder just how it’s possible to create the illusion that you don’t have a dick, because that costume shows absolutely everything and reveals absolutely nothing). The lyrics start, a woman with a rough voice singing about fucking and touching and doing all those things you could only dream about. It’s obscene. It’s so wrong. And it’s absolutely magnificent.
Maybe I should see what happens with Minerva Fox, after all. But I don’t know if I’d be capable of tucking my dick that far back. I like it right where it’s at.
Helena moves amongst the crowd, gyrating up and down on pretty much everyone within reach. People hand her ones and tens and twenties, and she gives them sticky kisses on the cheek before reaching down and goosing them.
She goes on from one to the next, and how she can see anything is beyond me, with the spotlight on her face and the strobe lights flashing. She reaches the back wall, where a large man is standing, his face hidden in shadow. Her movements become stiff and jerky as she steps closer, and as the light slides up the wall, I see it’s Darren, the Homo Jock King, standing alone in the dark. He’s smiling quietly to himself, but then, as if he’s forgotten his place and who he is, a scowl quickly forms as Helena approaches him. She trails her hand along his arm, but there’s nothing sexual about this. He doesn’t give her money. She moves on.
And before the shadows cover him again, that quiet smile returns as he follows her every move. She doesn’t see it, of course.
But I do.
I pull on Dom’s arm to get his attention. He bends over, my mouth near his ear. That hand comes to my back again. I can smell him. Spicy. Warm. His cheek brushes against mine. Accidental. Maybe. I don’t know. Apparently I don’t know a lot of things. “I’ll be right back,” I say.
“Everything okay?” he rumbles, and I feel the words as well as hear them.
No. “Yeah,” I say. “Just going to talk to Darren.”
“What for?” he asks, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear there’s a hint of jealousy to his voice.
Ask him! it howls. Ask him right now! Say it! ARE YOU GAY? DO YOU WANT ME? DO YOU WANT TO FIND SOME BACKROOM AND FUCK OUR BRAINS OUT? ASK HIM, YOU GODDAMN PUSSY!
“I want to ask him a question about Helena,” I manage to say.
“Do you want me to go with you?” He touches my back again, and I think there’s another question there.
I shake my head. “I’ll be right back.”
He lets me go. Straightens up. Nods. Looks away.
I’m in the crowd, pushing my way through. Someone grabs my ass hard. Someone else laughs in my face, their breath heavy with drink. The music screams. The lights flash. I almost get to Darren when a hand grabs my wrist and I’m pulled through the crowd and into the light.
The Queen herself stands before me, eyes blazing. The music crescendos. She trails a finger along my jawline, across my lips. She leans forward. “And just where were you going, little boy?” she breathes, ignoring the music. “To break some hearts, perhaps?”
“Only yours,” I promise her.
She laughs. It’s a deliciously wicked sound. “Oh, baby doll. How I wish I could keep you forever and ever. I’d lock you up and never let anyone hurt you again.”
“I wish that too,” I say. “It’d be easier.”
“And where’s the fun in that?”
“Your face is a little red,” I tell her. “Like a fire hydrant. How’s Darren?”
The smile turns feral. “Did I say keep you? Truly I meant strap you on to a sawhorse and expose that perky little ass of yours and take my time with it. I can promise you that you’ll scream.”
“I dare you.”
She pats my cheek. Hard. “Cheeky little twinkie. I’m going to go see what happens when I rub up against your cop.”
And then she’s gone. My poor cop. He doesn’t know what he’s in for.
Not that he’s mine. Or anything.
Whatever. I’m on a mission to meddle. I shall not be deterred.
I find Darren where I last saw him, hiding in the shadows. I have a feeling that people are usually intimidated by the Homo Jock King, but for some reason, he’s just another supermodel I happen to know in the desert. And I’m not one to shy away from things. Well, most things.
“Why are you lurking back here?” I ask him above the music.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” he says. “This is the prime lurking location.”
“It’s kind of creepy.”
“I’m kind of a creepy guy.” He folds his arms across his chest. The muscles bunch up against his expensive shirt. Light plays across his face, and I know he’s trying to intimidate the fuck out of me, but it’s really not working.
“I’m going to lurk too,” I say. I lean up against the wall, fold my stick arms across my too-small shirt probably bought at GapKids. “This is lame. Everything is so lame. I’m so cool hiding back here and pretending I don’t want to stick my wiener into a drag queen.”
“How’s that again?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Nothing,” I say innocently. “I just wanted to be one of the cool kids.”
“Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Well, yeah. You’re the creepy guy lurking in the corner. Or the Homo Jock King. Or both. That’s quite the title, by the way. Why do you call yourself that?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh. Why don’t you ask Sandy out?”
“Are you always this annoying?”
“Yes. Answer the question.”
“Fine,” he says. “As long as I get to ask you one first.”
What does Paul say? Oh sweat balls. What has Star Wars taught me? It’s a trap. “Fine,” I say, trying to look as bored as he sounds.
“Why are you leading that cop around by the dick? You a cock tease or something?”
My arms drop to my sides. “I don’t lead him around.”
He laughs. It’s a harsh sound. “Bullshit. I met you two this morning, and even I can see he’s boy-pussy whipped over you.”
“He’s my friend.”
“Friends fuck all the time.”
“I don’t.”
“So you must not be interested, then. If that’s the case, then maybe you want to get out of here. I can show you what fucking truly looks like.”
I make a face. “How romantic.”
“Life isn’t about romance, twinkie.”
“Your brother found it.”
He rolls his eyes. “A fluke. It happens, sure. Maybe they’ll last. Maybe they won’t. Maybe one of them will decide to go fuck someone on the side. We’re the products of our parents, after all. You can trust me on that.”
That hits me hard, but I try not to let him see it. Paul’s words about his father ring in my ears. My mother and his father. Different actions, same response. “Bitter, much?” I ask him. Or myself. I don’t know.
He cracks a fatalistic smile. “More of a realist.”
“Then maybe the realist can explain why he’s too afraid to tell Sandy how he really feels. Underneath all that cynicism, of course.”
“And maybe the nosy little twinkie can tell me why he’s too good for the cop.”
“I’m not too good for him,” I retort. “I’m not good for him.”
“Made that decision all on your own, did you?”
“I….” Well, yes. But when you put it like that, it makes me sound like a sanctimonious prick. Oh shit. God, I hate the Homo Jock King.
“Twinks,” he snorts. “You’re all the same. Good for a fuck because you know how to work a dick, but you think that gives you power and control. But the truth of the matter is, you’re just a scared little boy who doesn’t know shit. Just like all the rest.”
“And what does that make you, then?” I ask, trying to keep my anger in check.
“The one who fucks the little twinks,” he says. “Run along, little twink. Go back to the cop and pretend you don’t know he worships the ground you walk on.”
“I don’t think I like you much,” I say with a frown.
“Yeah? Welcome to the club.”
“But I think you’re just projecting.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”
I shrug. “It’s got to be hard to have to act like a jerk all the time, all high and mighty, only to have lost your heart to a drag queen who despises every fiber of your being.” Except I really don’t think said drag queen does. I’m so glad I can pick up on all other people’s problems instead of focusing on my own.
“I didn’t lose jack shit, kid. Go on, get the fuck outta here.”
Time to go. It’s probably a good time to remember my size and place. He could squash me with one hand, I’m sure. He is the Homo Jock King, after all.
But, as always, as I move to leave, my mouth moves without any provocation. “You’ll lose him,” I say. “If you don’t take the chance. Someone else will come along and sweep him off his feet, and you’ll be left alone to wonder why you didn’t have the balls to do more to make sure he didn’t belong to anyone else but you.”
“Funny, that,” he says, cocking his head. “I could say the same thing to you. What the fuck are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Stop being a whiny little flip-flopping bitch and make up your goddamn mind. Or,” he says, getting up in my space, bumping his legs against mine, “maybe I should find out tonight what bacon tastes like. He’s not my type—too big and bulky—but hell, he’s got a mouth and hole I can use. You mind if I borrow him, kid? Not to sweep him off his feet, of course.” He grins. “Well, maybe onto his back.”
I leave the Homo Jock King behind in the shadows.
SAGE THE Fifth:
“I don’t like getting drunk,” Vince tells me after the show. We’re sitting on the back patio, waiting for everyone else to come out. “One time, I got drunk and fell down at a party and somehow my pants came off and it turned into this whole big thing.”
Well, maybe not quite a sage.
“That’s… epic,” I say, for lack of anything better.
“People didn’t seem to mind, which was weird. So, you’re smart, huh?”
“That’s what I hear. Though I’ve been questioning that more and more.”
“Huh. I’m not smart.”
“You seem perfectly smart to me.” Sort of. But who am I to judge?
“Nah,” he says easily. “I say dumb shit all the time.”
“So do I. That has nothing to do with intelligence. Trust me on that.”
Paul pushes his way through the crowd. Vince lights up and pulls him down onto his lap and puts his face into his neck. He whispers something, to which Paul replies, “Yeah, because that worked so well last time. Wheels likes to watch. He’s a sick, twisted pervert.” They laugh with such ease.
“Dom will be out in a minute,” Paul tells me. “He’s in the bathroom. I need to go back up and help Helena turn back into Sandy. Kori’s up there, so we’ll be a bit if you want to wait.”
“That’s fine.”
“Or,” Vince says, “you can stay down here with me, and we can go find that corner of the bar to go make out. You know, for old time’s sake. Remember what happened later that night?”
Paul rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile. “Maybe later. Scratch that. Definitely later.” He kisses Vince and disappears back into the bar.
“Butt sex happened later that night,” Vince says to me happily.
I laugh. “I figured as much. What happened to oversharing?”
He shrugs. “I figured you were wondering. Couldn’t leave you hanging.”
How kind. “You love him, huh?”
“Paul? Oh sure. With all that I’ve got. He’s the only thing I need. I tell him it’s real, and he believes me. What more could I ask for?”
“Tell him it’s real?”
“It’s a thing, I guess. Our thing. He didn’t believe me, for whatever reason, when I asked him out the first time. Thought I was playing a joke on him.”
“Well, I can see that,” I say. “I mean, you’re… you. And he’s….” I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to say. It sounds like it was going to a real shitty place. I’m not like that.
But neither is Vince. “He’s what?” he asks, sounding confused.
“He’s what you need, I guess.”
Vince nods. “That’s a good way to put it. I’m just glad he figured out I wasn’t joking.”
“Did it take long?”
“Nah. I wore him down. I can be persuasive when I need to be.”
“Hit you with his car, did he?”
“Flew right over it and everything. Also saved his life from choking on spinach, so his life pretty much belongs to me. It’s in good hands, I think.”
“That’s a Chinese proverb,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s all Asia. The point is that I gave him his life, and he gave me mine in return. And a family that loves me, just the way I am. I don’t need anything else.”
“I’m happy for you, Vince. It sounds great.”
“You going to tell Dom?”
“Tell him what?”
Vince grins. “That you love him. Duh.”
“Shocked” doesn’t even begin to describe me. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you love him, right? He sure loves you. You guys look at each other like Paul and I do. Sandy and Darren say it’s gross, but they do the same thing.” He frowns. “I’m still working on them. I’ll figure it out. Or they will. Or the world will end. I don’t know which will happen first.”
It’d be so easy to bullshit, but I think I might be done with that now. “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how to tell him. I did love him, at one point. I don’t know if it’s the same.”
“Sure seems like it.”
“Does it?”
“Why not just say it?”
“You can’t just say something like that.”
He looks surprised. “Why not? You know, if people actually said what was in their hearts instead of just overthinking everything in their heads, things would be so much easier.”
To which I have no retort. Absolutely none at all. Me. A McKenna. Nothing. “You’re pretty smart, you know that? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you tell them a member of MENSA told you that.”
He beams at me. “Thank you! That’s awesome of you to say. But isn’t MENSA the group of old gross guys who molests little boys? You probably shouldn’t belong to that. I don’t want you to get molested.”
“No… that’s…. Vince, that’s NAMBLA.”
“Oh. Is MENSA Jewish food, then? I don’t know if I’ve ever had Jewish food. I went to Asia and had Asian food, and it wasn’t like Panda Express at all. Everything there had tentacles or used to be a dog, and I felt really bad because I would never cook Wheels. You know? That would just be so wrong and….”
A BRIEF Intermission from the Sages (And From Real Life In General):
I go back inside to find Dom to tell him… I don’t know. Something. Anything. He should have been out there by now.
Do I love him? Fuck if I know.
Shit. Of course I do.
I probably never stopped.
Peachy. This is just fucking peachy. Goddammit.
I walk into the bar. The dance floor is packed.
I can see movement up on the balcony.
Maybe he’s up there.
I turn the corner.
He’s standing there, leaning against a wall. Talking to some guy. I watch as he leans in and says something. The other guy laughs. Dom smiles, and I swear I’m back in that hallway, I’m fifteen years old, and I have a present in my hands I want to give him. I just want him to see the story I made him, to show him how I see us, and maybe, just maybe he’ll look at me and say, There you are. Right in front of me this whole time. I don’t know why I’ve never seen it before. But I do now, and I love you. I love you too.
The guy reaches up and touches his arm. A caress that’s more than friendly.
It’s what I deserve, really. For taking this long. I should go back outside. Whatever will be will be. Gay, bi, whatever. He’s my friend, and that’s all that matters. I just want him to be happy.
I turn to leave.
An explosion of laughter behind me.
He looks over.
Our gazes lock.
I can’t breathe. The earth quakes beneath my feet. Everything I’m feeling is splayed across my face, I know, and I can do nothing to hide it. The anger. The jealousy. The fear. Rage and desire, amassing as one.
He stands up straight.
Run, I tell myself. Please, run.
Run, it whispers. Please, run.
But I can’t. I can’t move. Breathe, Kid. It’s Bear. I can hear him. All other sounds fade away to the voice of my brother.
Just breathe.
Dom takes a step toward me, leaving the stranger behind.
Inhale, Bear says. You can do this. Inhale.
I breathe in. I almost don’t make it. But I do.
Good. Hold.
I can do this. I know I can do this.
One.
Dominic pushes past the bar.
Two.
Someone bumps my arm.
Three. Exhale.
I breathe out.
Hold.
Somehow, I do.
One.
Dom is almost to me, and I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.
Two.
He’s never looked bigger than he does right now. I’m just a little guy.
Three.
The roaring sounds of the bar come back.
“I d-didn’t mean to i-i-interrupt,” I tell him as he reaches me. My voice breaks. “I’m s-s-sorry. I’ll g-g-go and—”
He kisses me.
In my tiny little world, in my tiny little brain, everything explodes in colors and shapes and stars, and all I see are stars, and they fill the world until I’m sure everything around us will blow away like so much dust. He moves his lips over mine, gripping the side of my face, and it’s him, it’s him, oh my God, it’s Dom, and he’s got a hold on me like he’ll never let me go, he’ll never let me leave again, and I think to myself, filled with so much wonder, This is nice, but I should probably kiss him back so he doesn’t think it’s like kissing a dead fish. And I do, and it’s awkward and wet and oh so perfect, and when he touches his tongue to mine, I understand fireworks and supernovas and life itself for just one brief, shining moment. This is what life is, these moments of fireworks and exploding stars and synapses blazing. These are the moments that lift us up when we think we can’t take another step. These are the moments that put us back together when we’ve fallen apart. These are the moments that make us whole.
It’s not a matter of breathing.
It’s who we are.
He pulls away, but barely. His eyes fix on mine. “I’ve been waiting,” he says almost angrily in that beautiful broken voice, “for the look you just gave me. Is this clear enough for you, Tyson? Do you understand now?”
Well, no, I don’t understand anything at all because I’m pretty sure I’m brain-dead and have an erection in the middle of a gay bar fifteen hundred miles from home after having the first kiss to end all first kisses. “Flarg,” I say rather eloquently. “Gah.”
“Good,” he says. “Just so we’re clear.”
He lets go of my face and turns on his heel, disappearing into the crowd.
“Gah,” I say again. No one seems to notice.
THE FINAL Sage:
It’s hours later and I still haven’t quite recovered from what I’ve determined to be a life-altering event of a magnitude that I can’t even begin to understand.
Dom and I haven’t said much to each other since we left the bar. To be honest, I haven’t said much to anyone as my speaking ability appears to have been temporarily destroyed, and I can do no more than make grunting noises to questions that I’m not quite hearing. It probably doesn’t help that whenever I look at Dom, he arches an eyebrow at me, asking me a question I cannot remotely comprehend.
Funny thing, though. I can breathe. It’s not even an issue.
And now everyone’s gone to bed and Dom is in our room, and I’m putting off following him in there because I’m convinced that either I’ve constructed what happened in the bar as some sort of elaborate fantasy and it didn’t happen, or it did happen and Dom is waiting for me in the bedroom so we can talk and kiss and maybe (probably!) get down to business, and all I can picture is that huge fucking dildo in the drawer and what if he wants to use that? On me? Or on him? Do I have to put a condom on it? Is it even clean? Can you get STDs from rubber dongs?
Yeah, I know. I sound ridiculous. But I can’t help it.
So instead of taking charge and getting what I’ve been waiting for all this time, I’m sitting in the dark in the living room on Sandy’s couch replaying that kiss in my head over and over and over again. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
The light switches on overhead.
“Gah,” I say. “Gah flarg!”
“Because that makes sense,” Sandy says with a yawn. “I thought I heard some noise out here. What are you still doing up? Can’t sleep? Me either. Takes me a while to calm down after a show.”
“He! Did stuff! To my face!”
“Uh, come again?” he asks. He sits down next to me on the couch. “Who did stuff to your face? Did someone hurt you at the bar?” I can hear the steel in his voice. Helena’s never too far away.
I shake my head and clear my throat. “No. Kissed me!”
“Who kissed you?” Then a smile splits his face. “Well, I’ll be fucked. Did someone perchance find out what a certain officer of the law tastes like?”
“Holy shit!”
“Holy shit, indeed,” he says. He reaches over and wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. Holy crap, do I need this. I curl up against him, and he laughs quietly to himself.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, because I’m failing to find any humor in this situation whatsoever.
“That didn’t take long,” he says. “I expected you to last at least another week or so.”
“It wasn’t me! He did it!”
“Even better, then. It means he got tired of waiting for you to open your eyes. Gotta love a man who takes the initiative.”
“I’m so confused,” I mutter.
“Why, baby doll? You’ve got what you wanted. Dom is, at the very least, interested in your cute little ass. And at most, it’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
“No one does. That’s the beauty of it. You’ll find out together. The big thing that you need to do is just go with the flow and not overthink it.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy,” I remind him.
He laughs again. “Yeah, I kind of figured that. You’re lucky I already have plenty of experience with Paul. You two are peas in pod. Maybe you’re a little less neurotic and a little more of a smartass, but you remind me of him. And that’s a good thing.”
“He and my brother can never meet,” I warn him. “It really would be the end of the world.” And then it hits me what I’ve forgotten. “Oh shit,” I moan.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“My brother!”
“What about him?”
“He’s going to kill me.” And he really will. There’s going to be no end when he finds out that Dom and me are doing… well, whatever it is that we’re doing.
“Why?”
“He’s… overprotective.” Understatement, that.
“I thought you all have known Dom a long time.”
“We have.”
Sandy cocks his head at me. “I don’t understand, then. You’re twenty years old. You’re an adult and capable of making your own decisions. Who you love and choose to spend your time with shouldn’t be dictated by your brother.” I can hear the frown in his voice, and it’s my fault, really. He doesn’t know about Bear and me.
“It’s not like that,” I tell him. “It’s hard for people to understand who haven’t been through what we’ve been through.”
“And what’s that? If you don’t mind me asking. And if you do, please tell me to shut the hell up and mind my own business. I won’t be offended.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got all night.”
I think I’ll balk at it. Sandy’s nice and he’s becoming my friend, but I’ve known him all of two days, and there are things I haven’t told people I’ve known for years. I open my mouth to tell him thanks, but no thanks, but instead I say, “One morning when I was five years old, I woke up on the couch. I looked down, and Bear and Otter were sleeping on the floor. Otter was curled around Bear protectively, and I remember thinking how happy I was about that, how Bear needed someone to look out for him. I thought I couldn’t do it on my own because I was just a little guy.
“Bear woke up and we had Lucky Charms. And it was his birthday. I remember that. It was his birthday, and I hoped he would like the present I’d made for him. And then Anna and Creed were there, and somehow, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t want to say anything out loud because I didn’t want to ruin Bear’s day, but I knew. I just knew. And then he told me I had to be brave. That I had to be big and brave. I thought she’d died. But it was worse than that. I ended up in the bathtub that day. Because of the earthquakes.”
She had left. As the story spills from me, as I confess to a man I barely know, I remember how Bear’s words had hit me. I was smart, smarter than I had any right to be, but I was still only five years old, and I didn’t understand how a mother, my mother, could make a decision to leave her sons behind, like we were nothing to her. Like we didn’t matter to her. I didn’t understand the selfishness that could exist in a person then. Sure, I knew she wasn’t the best mother, but she was still my mom, and I loved her. I loved her with my whole heart because that was what a son should do.
So, no. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how she could leave and never look back.
But, of course, she did look back. She looked back and tried to hurt us even more. She almost won too. That’s the funny thing about family, though. When you do stupid shit you think is for the best in the most self-sacrificing way possible, they’re there to knock you upside the head and tell you to stop being such an idiot.
I was fifteen years old when I found out. Bear took me for a drive one day. Up the coast. Just me and him. It was a pretty summer day, and there was the sun and the waves and our windows were rolled down, and we let the wind run through our fingers.
“I have something to tell you,” he said to me. We’d stopped at a lookout and we were the only ones there. “Something I should have told you a while ago. I just couldn’t work up the courage.”
My skin felt cold. “Are you okay?” I asked quickly. “Are you sick?” In my head, a million doomsday scenarios ran through my head. Bear had cancer. Bear had AIDS. Bear had a brain tumor. Bear was going to die and he was going to leave me behind. The car shook a little. A precursor to an earthquake, I thought.
“No,” he said. “I’m not sick. I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Otter or anyone else.”
That should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. “What’s wrong?” I asked nervously. “Whatever it is, we’ll fight it, okay? If it’s the courts again, if they’re trying to take me away from you because you and Otter got married, we’ll fight it. I don’t care what it takes.” By the end of my misguided little speech, I was growling and spitting, suddenly sure it’s a custody thing. Who do they think they’re fucking with? I thought to myself. Bring it. Bring it and you will see what it means to have the fight of your life.
He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I’m going about this all wrong,” he muttered. “No, Kid. It’s not custody. Nothing bad will happen.” He reached over and took my hand in his and squeezed it. “You’re mine, okay? You belong to me. Nothing can ever change that. I promise you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Then what is it!”
“Mom.”
“Oh.” And it was like I was five years old again. “She’s dead?”
He shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t checked up on her in a while.”
“Then what?”
“The hospital,” he says. “When everything happened at once.”
I closed my eyes. Everything at once.
Mrs. Paquinn.
Otter.
Anna.
“I remember,” I said. “That wasn’t a good day.”
“We’ve had better,” he agreed. “But we picked ourselves up.”
“That’s what we do.”
“There’s… something that happened there that I didn’t tell you.”
“What?”
“I only wanted to protect you,” he said sadly. “All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe.”
“And you’ve done that, Papa Bear,” I said gently, trying to make sure he knew I was serious. “Who knows what would have happened if she’d taken me with her when she threatened to?”
“That’s just it, Kid. She was never going to take you away.”
A buzzing enveloped my ears. “What?”
“She came to the hospital. When you were in school.”
Anger, sleek and oily. “What did she want?”
Bear looked older than I’d ever seen him. More tired. “She came to bring the adoption papers. Renouncing her custody of you.”
“You said she sent those in the mail. That they just showed up one day.”
“I know. But she came. And I asked her. For the both of us. I asked her why.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “Said she wasn’t meant to be a mother. That we were better off without her.”
“What about when she came back? That day to the apartment. She wanted me then! She told me!” It didn’t matter that I never wanted to leave with her. It didn’t matter that it did nothing to offer her redemption in my eyes. But it had mattered, at least a little bit, to my nine-year-old heart, that my mother wanted me. That she wanted me enough to try and fight my brother for custody. That she cared about me enough to make petty demands.
That she loved me.
“It was for money,” Bear said. “Otter dated a man before he came back to Seafare. They broke up. He knew Otter had feelings for me. He wanted us to break up. He tracked her down. Offered her money. She took it. And did what she did.”
“Money,” I said stupidly. “It was about money.”
“Yeah, Kid. Money.”
“Did she get it? Did she get her money?”
Bear looked stricken. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Why tell me the truth now?”
“Because,” he said, “you’re old enough now to understand such things. And there might come a day when you feel the need to track her down yourself. I hope that never happens, but that’s me being selfish and I can’t do that to you. If it does happen, I wanted you to know everything about her. It’s only fair.”
“Fair,” I spat at him. “How is any of this fair? What the fuck do you know about fair?”
“It’s not,” he said, his voice growing hard. “It never was and it never will be. But I have done my damnedest to make sure you’ve had a home, that you’ve known every single day that you were loved like no one else on this earth. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve fucked up and made decisions based upon what I thought was right, but if it meant keeping you healthy and sane and alive, then I’d do the same thing. Again. And again. And again.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Sane? Think we kind of lapsed on that one, Papa Bear.”
“Don’t you dare talk like that,” he growled at me. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I think the medical community would disagree with you.”
“Fuck them!” he cried at me, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. “Fuck them! Fuck a goddamn diagnosis! Fuck her! And fuck you too, if you think I’m going to stand aside and let you think that about yourself. You are going to make this world a better place, and you are going to prove everyone wrong who thinks you needed a mother and father to grow up good. There’s never been a moment when I haven’t looked at you and thought, This is why I’m doing this. He’s the reason I’m doing all that I do.”
“Earthquake,” I whispered at him, barely able to breathe. The slamming of his hands was like shutting the door on my lungs. “B-breathe. H-hard t-t-to—”
He was out the door and around the car before I could even blink. In the panic that was my mind, the red waves and shifting ground, I felt anger at myself for being so weak. I have to fix this, I thought. I have to find a way to fix this somehow.
But then the ground broke up beneath my feet and I started falling, falling, falling and I couldn’t breathe and—
My brother was there. As he always was. And as always, he talked me through it. It took a while, but eventually, the earthquakes stopped. My throat and lungs opened up.
We sat there, for a time. Bear and me.
“And that’s why,” I tell Sandy now, my voice hoarse from talking so long, “it matters what my brother thinks. For the longest time, it was just Bear and me. That’s all we knew about how to survive. Eventually, it got better, but no matter where life takes us, no matter where our stories go, it always will come down to Bear and me. There might come a time when we’ll be apart, but everything I’ll do will be because of him, and everything I’ll do will be for him. He’s not just my brother, Sandy. Bear is the reason I’m alive.”
“Oh, baby doll,” Sandy says, wiping his eyes. “I do believe that’s possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Forgive my ignorance earlier. Of course you should care about what your brother says. But you shouldn’t let it define you. You are your own man, and while the path might have been started by Bear, it’s your own now.”
“He’s still going to flip out.”
“Doesn’t he do that normally?”
I laugh. I feel better. A little bit. “Yeah. I guess he does.”
“Well, then. It’ll be par for the course.” Sandy hesitates. Then, “Was he right?”
“About what?”
“Your mom.”
“What about her?”
“Do you want to find her? Ask her the questions yourself?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But I’ve been thinking about her more and more lately. I even dream about her. Sometimes, they’re good dreams. But most of the time they’re not. And I’m not where I want to be. If anything, I’m worse.”
“And you think she has something to do with that.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. So, no. I don’t want to find her. I don’t want to ask her questions myself.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I think I’m going to. Not for Bear. Not for Dom. For me.”
“You might not get the answers you want,” he tells me. “You’re more likely not to get anything at all. If she’ll even talk to you.”
“I have a sister,” I tell him. “That’s the last thing Bear told me that day. After my mom left, she got pregnant again. She’d be eleven now, I think. Maybe twelve. Her name’s Isabelle.” I sniffle. “Izzie, for short.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Sandy says, pulling me close again. “I wish I could take away all this hurt from you. You don’t deserve it.”
“I lied to you,” I admit. “Just now.”
“About?”
“Doing it just for me. It would be for Bear too. And for Dom.”
“I know, baby doll. But they love you just the way you are.”
“I know.” And I do. “But in order for me to be who I want to be for them, I’ve got to clear this blockage. In my head.”
“When will you do it?” he asks me quietly. Outside, the sky is beginning to lighten.
“I’ll take Dom home,” I say, making the first firm decision in a long time. “Then I’ll leave again.” It’s best to do it now and get it over with.
“You need to tell him.”
I shake my head. “He’ll just worry.”
Sandy laughs. “If you two are headed where I think you’re headed, he’s going to do that regardless. I think he does it already. Probably has for a very long while.”
“What do you mean?”
He gives me a small smile. “You’ll find out, I’m sure.”
“This is my fight,” I say.
“But you just admitted it was for him too.”
“Shit.”
“Indeed.”
He holds me close.