“What are you talking about, Mom? You met Mal yesterday. You don’t get to be rude to them just because Shelby isn’t here.”

I’m causing a scene, I know, but I don’t get this game she’s playing. Or why she’s even doing it. So she’s upset about Shelby. That’s no reason to take it out on a perfectly nice person that she’s barely met.

Mal rests a hand on Mom’s arm. “Don’t worry, I’m terrible with names and faces too. I had the same art teacher all through high school, and still, once in senior year, had a total brain fart as to what her name was. Right in front of her.” They shake their head, and Mom’s expression turns from shocked to grateful. They’re totally camping it up, but for some weird reason it seems to reassure her rather than put her off. I’ve never been more grateful to Mal for volunteering to come here.

“It happens to me all the time now,” she says and clasps onto their hand with her own. As I look at their two hands together, I realize how gnarled and bony hers have gotten. When did my mom get old? “I’m so sorry that I forgot you. Of course I remember now. Such a kind young man.”

I start to protest her noun usage, but I haven’t even gotten half a syllable out before Mal shakes their head at me.

I can’t understand why Mal isn’t more upset, especially since her focus has only put them in the spotlight, taking it from me and my divorce. I know that was the idea, but I didn’t intend for it to be such a negative spotlight or for them to have to endure people purposely using the wrong words around them.

A touch to my elbow has me spinning around to my dad, standing in the kitchen doorway with his back to the party.

“Parker, we really need to have that talk now,” Dad says.

“Oh, but your party, Ralph,” Mom says. “I was just about to bring out your pie.”

Dad crosses the kitchen and places a kiss in my mother’s hair. “I think our guests can hold off on dessert for ten minutes. I promise I won’t be long.”

Mom smiles up at him like a lovesick teenager, and I’m struck by how I’ve never really seen these little displays of affection from them before. Maybe it’s yet another new thing since I left home.

Dad leads me down the hall to his study, far enough away to muffle the sound of the party crowd. He sits behind his desk, and I take one of the low wooden chairs in front. When I was younger, this was how I knew I was in trouble, being seated in front of Dad’s desk with him judging me from behind the mass of ornate, heavy wood and glass. I’m not entirely sure I’m not in trouble now.

“I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone or by email. I thought it would be better if I told you in person, but I obviously waited too long, and I’m sorry.”

Dad has his hands folded on his desk in front of him and his voice, so stern only a minute ago, has now lowered to something soft and almost broken.

“What’s going on?”

“Your mother has early-onset Alzheimer’s.” Dad’s voice cracks on the last word.

I feel like my throat has suddenly swollen, and there’s no getting a breath or a swallow to go through. It’s too thick and hot, the skin around my neck prickling with heat so much that I try to rub it away.

“She was diagnosed with it last spring.”

“What?” My voice finally makes a reappearance at that startling fact. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was trying to find the right time. Then you and Shelby found out you were going to have a baby, and at first, I didn’t want to ruin your excitement. I thought you’d be coming to visit so we could congratulate you in person, so I held off. And then, well, after you two split, you avoided us like the plague.”

“So you’re blaming me for not knowing sooner?”

“No. Jesus, Parker, stop making everything about you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with someone you have loved for almost four decades and watch that beautiful, lively person turn into someone timid and forgetful and lost somewhere in time?”

I’m trying to wrap my head around all of this, thinking back to each conversation we’ve had. The repeated questions. The way she asked for Shelby but then didn’t even seem to notice she wasn’t here last night. The made-up stories she told Sharon. God, it was all the Alzheimer’s.

“Does it always progress this fast? The last time I spoke to her, she seemed perfectly normal.”

“Everyone’s different.” Dad scrubs his hands across his face. For the first time I see the exhaustion, the defeat in his eyes. “And if you aren’t around her all the time, she covers it up pretty well. Honestly, until you showed up, things were pretty normal. But I think seeing you this weekend has confused her.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. If there’s anything I can do …”

At that, he sits up straighter, chasing away his internal demons with renewed determination. “Actually, yes, there is. I’d like for you to move back.”

“What?”

“Taking care of your mother is more than I can manage on my own, and I need the help. She’s doing well enough, but I’m gone for work all the time, and I have to travel for conferences. That way, you’d get to spend more time with her and it would hopefully lessen the confusion like what we’re seeing this weekend. When I thought you and Shelby were going to have a baby, I would have never dreamed of it. But now, you have nothing keeping you in Colorado. You can find a job anywhere, and we need you here.”

Nothing keeping me in Colorado. My mind races around a dozen different things that contradict that statement, but they all lead to one thing. Mal.

“I don’t know. I’ll need to think about it.”

Dad nods, and pushes back from the desk to his feet. “I understand. Take some time to get it all planned out. I know that’s important to you. But don’t wait too long.”

He claps my shoulder and leads me out into the hallway. The time for arguing or even discussing his plan is over. Back at the party, he smiles and laughs with his friends as if nothing has changed, but I’m completely off-kilter, watching it all from the hallway like it’s an out-of-body experience. A warm body radiates at my side, and Mal’s concerned eyes are my undoing and my salvation. I reach for them and they wrap around me like a homemade quilt, full of love and comfort. I don’t care who at this fucking party sees us.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

I shake my head. “I’d like to spend a little more time with my mom, if that’s okay.”

Mal smiles and rubs a hand along my back. “Of course. That’s why I’m here. It’s not for the scenery, I can assure you, unless of course you count.”

I don’t know how it happened so quickly, craving their touch, but I do. I instinctively shift to feel more of them against me. I thread our fingers together as I brave the rest of the house and the crowd. We might get some dirty looks. We might not. I’ll never know.

Mal and I find Mom and spend the next few hours accepting any task she assigns us, working by her side. Several times she forgets and asks about Shelby, but it doesn’t carry the sting it did before. Now I just tell her that Shelby couldn’t make it. Over and over, but the lie works. If she notices how close Mal and I are, her mind must create alternative acceptable excuses, because she never mentions a thing. I do know Dad would say something if he had even a hint of what was going on between us, but he’s too busy playing man-of-the-hour to notice.

I want to know if Sharon knows about the Alzheimer’s. I want to know if Mom even does. But then again, I don’t. Part of me wants to continue living in a world where everything her mind conjures is real, because that’s easier and less painful.

By the time Mal and I leave the house, I’m emotionally threadbare.

“Can we just grab something to take back to the hotel? I don’t feel like being out in public,” I ask them, and of course they readily agree.

We kick back onto the hotel bed with our fast food haul and watch mindless cartoons. Our limbs wander so that some part of Mal constantly touches me, not for sex, but for comfort. It reminds me I’m not totally alone.

“She has Alzheimer’s,” I finally say, even though I think Mal has already guessed.

Mal nods and quietly sets about cleaning up the wrappers and trash. They switch off the TV with one hand and take mine in the other, leading me into the bathroom. Mal starts water running for a shower, then carefully undresses me. It’s not erotic or urgent. They’re taking care of me, and I sag with the relief of it.

In the shower, Mal takes their time washing my body. Small circles of rough cloth rub against my skin until I’m sure my whole body shines with a rosy glow. They gently kiss each clean surface after rinsing away the bubbles, and I wobble in place, overcome with emotion.

When we return to bed, Mal asks me to stretch out. They straddle my naked thighs, and my previously relaxed prick takes notice. They raise my fingertips to their mouth and begin to work their way up, feasting on my skin. My damp skin erupts in goosebumps, but every place their lips linger leaves a trail of fire until my entire body has been rendered to ash. They shift lower to torment my chest. Flicks of tongue at my nipples send sparks of pleasure directly to my balls. My leaking cock jumps in the air, thrusting futilely against nothing.

Mal’s tongue continues its upward trek along the tendon in my neck until they’re tracing the shell of my ear in tiny kitten laps.

“I want you inside me,” they whisper into my ear, the words and breath making my whole body feel thick and heavy, not just my dick. I groan and thrust my hips upward, as if I could make it happen right now. Breaths of laughter sprinkle my cheek.

“Impatient.”

“Mal.” My voice is a strained whisper to keep all the other mindless noises inside. “I want you so much. Want to be inside you.”

I need this connection. Something real and tangible, when my world has turned upside-down. Mal leaves the bed and I whimper embarrassingly at the loss, but they return a second later and toss supplies onto the bed beside me.

“I want you to watch me,” Mal says, straddling me again, but this time backwards. They reach back to get the lube, but their eyes never leave mine. Slick drips from their fingertips and they angle forward to rub it in a circle around their hairless dusky hole. Mal’s finger disappears inside and I just about lose my mind, wanting to chase that finger with my own, or my tongue. Anything to be a part of them.

Mal’s other hand slaps at mine, which I hadn’t realized was already jerking myself.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Mal growls. “But since you need something to do with your hands, spread my cheeks, hold them open as wide as you can for me.”

The ample flesh on their backside fills my palms as I pull them so taut that their hole stretches away from the finger inside. So they add more fingers, more lube, and I’m mesmerized. Who knew ass play was so erotic that just watching it would make me forget how to breathe.

“Suit up, cowboy,” Mal throws over their shoulder, and my laugh punches my breath from my lungs. “We are in Oklahoma, after all,” they say with a wink.

I rush to comply, but my fingers are so shaky I finally have to use my teeth to open the packet.

“Tsk, tsk. What would your father the dentist say?” Mal smirks at my lack of ability to human, looking rightfully quite proud.

“Please don’t talk about my father right now.”

I get the condom rolled on as Mal turns around to face me and positions themself over my slick, straight member. They slowly work themself onto it, dropping a bit at a time and rolling their hips to adjust with each movement.

The pressure is so tight and unlike anything I’ve ever felt around my dick before. I’m helpless to the sensations squeezing at my head and trickling down into my balls. With each roll of Mal’s hips, it releases a throb throughout my shaft, like their ass is literally milking my cock. When they’re finally fully seated, they continue the gentle rolls, which I’m thankful for because a few hard thrusts and this is all over.

“Fuck, Mal,” I moan.

“That’s what we’re doing, dummy.”

I can’t help the laughter that escapes. Jesus, I had no idea sex could be fun and sensual at the same time. The laughter makes my dick jump inside them, and it must hit something right, because they make a sudden sharp intake followed by a high-pitched breathy moan.

“Fuck, I could come just from that,” Mal cries. “Do it again.”

“Make me laugh and I will.” I smirk at the sudden shift in power, which I doubt will last long.

“Why did the graphic designer ride the engineer?” they ask in a shaky voice, their eyes closed and face turned toward the ceiling, still writhing in ecstasy.

“Why?”

Fast as a shot, they bring their face down and pin me with dark, pupil-blown eyes. “Because they wanted to fucking come, so fucking do that again.”

I laugh and thrust against their rocking hips, pushing deeper each time. Mal’s been reduced to whimpers, and my laugh quickly changes to moans of my own when Mal begins to release jets of cum across my chest. Their ass tightens around my length, pulsing and milking me until I’m shooting my own release into the condom.

Mal’s arms, which hold them upright over my chest, shake from exertion, and I roll us both to the side and gently pull myself from their body. I can feel the spunk dripping from my abs and chest, but I really don’t care about that right now. Mal’s hair is a tangled mess across their face, so I comb my fingers from their forehead and back around their ears, smoothing their hair with a calming touch. Their eyes are closed and their breaths even out into soft and steady puffs. I could stay like this all night, watching this beautiful person.

I haven’t taken the time to think about what my dad asked of me or what it would mean. But with Mal lying here in my arms, there’s at least one thing I know for certain that I want.