17
Evan
Frankie and I walk along the sidewalk toward Bouldercrest Park.
“This sounds like it’s going to be fun,” I say. “I’ve never volunteered to help out with anything like this before.”
“It’s really cool. This nonprofit teamed up with a few local groups, like this LGBTQIA youth organization, so everyone can get together to help improve the park. It’s nice because we can clean up the park and meet some cool kids who are just happy to get out and be around other people who get them. They do this every other weekend, so it’s one of the easier ones for us to time with…you know, our fucked-up anniversary.”
I was honored when Frankie asked me to come, not just because he wanted me to meet his mom and stepdad, but because I know what this day means to them…and I want to be here for him.
“Well, I appreciate the invite,” I tell him. “And I’m excited about meeting your mom and stepdad!” I grin as a rush of excitement pulses through me.
“Excited?” he asks, his head tucked low so that I can mostly see his beanie as he side-eyes me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yeah. You talk about her all the time, but I’ve never gotten to meet her before. I mean, I am your best friend, so—”
“Oh, really? You think you’re my best friend.”
“Whatever. You’d be lucky to have a best friend like me,” I say, sashaying until he laughs.
“I am lucky,” he says, though his words are more serious, unlike the playful joke I was making.
I stop posturing and continue walking, turning and noticing Frankie’s warm expression. My cheeks flush with heat.
What’s getting into me?
Since we’ve started all this puppy-play stuff, since I’ve opened up to Frankie on this whole other level, this connection we share has become so much more than the friendship we had before. And even more important, it’s not something I’m nervous or uneasy about.
I’m excited…and turned on, really.
It’s not just about the fun; it’s knowing that Frankie would never do anything to hurt me. I know his heart and what a good person he is. I’ve put my trust in the wrong guy before, but that isn’t him, and I’m lucky he’s in my life.
As we walk by Flirt on the way to the park, a man walking a pit bull passes us.
“What do you think about that?” Frankie asks. “You think you’re a little pit bull?”
When we’ve been walking through town since I first donned my puppy hood with him, we’ve commented on a few breeds we’ve seen out and about, trying to figure out which one would suit me best, but we can’t seem to find the right one.
“He looks so sad. Is that what I look like to you?” I ask him.
“No, definitely not.”
“Ugh. I’ve been looking at dogs online on my break at work, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Look at my little runt doing his homework,” he says before running his hand through my hair.
It’s just a playful rub—but different than the way it was before we started with the puppy play, because I don’t pull away or resist. I lean into it.
As we mosey across the crosswalk, we spy a woman carrying a yapping Chihuahua, who the woman keeps shushing. Frankie starts to say something, but I immediately bump up against his shoulder and cut him off with, “Don’t you even dare.”
“Oh, you aren’t my little yappy Evan?”
“That’s more like what Pup Derek would look like.”
“He’d make a good pup,” Frankie notes. “I wonder if Jackson would be into that.”
“I have a feeling Jackson might be into a lot of things,” I say, reflecting on my convo with Derek at Otterly.
“Wait. What? No, never mind. I don’t want to think about Daddy Jackson’s sex life.”
“You could be Daddy Frankie if you wanted,” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Doesn’t sound like me.”
“You’d be a sexy daddy, though.”
“I’m a sexier pup handler.”
“True,” I confess, not really joking.
The entrance to the park is a few yards away. As we near it, I spot a guy with a greyhound mix that’s half its owner’s size, and before I can say anything, Frankie blurts out, “Definitely not.”
I chuckle as he hooks an arm around me and pulls me close. “Don’t worry, Ev. We’ll figure it out. Even if we have to sit down and go through a catalog of every dog breed known to man.”
It’s so interesting because, jokey as Frankie can be, I can tell he’s serious about this. He’s not mocking me or making fun of figuring this out. He’s sincere. He knows this is something that’s important to me and like with so many things he’s done with my interest in puppy play, he makes me feel safe talking to him about it.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What?”
“I just appreciate how you’ve been about all this. You never make me feel like you’re judging me…or like it’s weird. And that means a lot to me, Frankie.”
He stops in his tracks, and I turn to him. “What?” I ask. “Did I make that weird?”
“No. I’m just sorry that Peter was such an ass to you. That he made you feel like this was something you would get teased about.”
I glance around, waiting for some passersby to get a few feet away from us before I say, “Frankie, you know what we’re doing is weird. People wouldn’t get it.”
He pinches my chin with his thumb and forefinger, smirking as he says, “You and me, Ev? People will never get us, but we get us. That’s all that matters.”
The way he says that, it’s like he’s pleased that we have this secret…not just with the puppy play, but with our whole relationship, especially since we started doing…whatever we’re doing, BJs included.
People wouldn’t understand, and we don’t really need them to.
I love that about us.
“Hey, mijo!” I hear come from beside us. Frankie releases my chin and we turn together to see a woman approaching us. I recognize her from Frankie’s pictures on Facebook.
With dark hair that falls to her shoulders, Frankie’s mom, Andrea, has golden-brown skin, a few shades darker than Frankie’s.
She immediately gives Frankie a hug before darting over to me and offering one to me as well.
She gives good hugs. They’re very different from the ones my mother would give. Those were cold and insincere—as though she was always trying to keep her distance. Makes sense, considering how easy it was for her to get rid of me.
“Oh, Evan, I’ve heard so much about you,” she says as she pulls away. “I feel like I already know you. It’s a crime that my son hasn’t already brought you over to meet me.”
His stepdad, Randall, approaches and says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Evan.” Randall and I shake hands before we all continue into the park together, Frankie’s mom entertaining us with the epic adventure she and Randall had in finding street parking today.
We meet a crowd of people on the other side of the park, many wearing their official event shirts.
We’re all put to work. Frankie and Randall unload bags of pine chips from the back of a truck in the parking lot and transport them to various locations while Andrea and I are put on planting duty with a sixteen-year-old kid named Freddie, who we chat with as we plant a variety of flowers and herbs around the perimeter of the pond.
Andrea chats away with Freddie. She’s obviously very social and easy to get along with. She makes him feel at ease, and he opens up to us a little about his life as trans female-to-male—something she seems so cool about—something I know my own parents wouldn’t have understood.
We’re on our knees beside the pond. I dig holes as Frankie’s mom places plants in them. While we do that, Freddie collects litter from the spot beside where we’re working, so that when we’re finished, we can move into the new, clean area to plant some more flowers.
As I finish digging a hole, Frankie’s mom removes a couple of flowers from the green tray they’re on and starts to break up the roots before setting them into the ground.
After Freddie tells us a little about his work at a clothing store in the mall, Frankie’s mom turns to me. “What about you, Evan? Frankie tells me you’re a barista.”
“I work at the Feisty Fox not far from Metropolis. I just started a few months ago, but I really like it.”
“I used to be a barista in college. It was a fun job. It’s kind of nice getting to interact with people every day, except when they complain.”
“Oh, right?” I say. “Yeah, I have some bad ones occasionally, but on the whole, my regulars know me, and they are always really nice and friendly. I enjoy that part of it, getting to see people every day. Sometimes, you’ll have a grumpy customer, but if I’m real friendly, sometimes I’ll get a smile out of them, and that makes me feel better.”
“That’s an adorable way of looking at it.”
“Yeah, that’s so optimistic,” Freddie adds. “I work at Target and always get so annoyed if customers start barking at me about returns.”
I shrug. “We all have days where we get a little sad.”
I know the reality of that all too well from my past with depression. I know what it’s like to have a difficult time, to struggle to crack that smile, so I guess in a way, even when I meet someone who’s not having a good day, it’s easier for me to empathize with them because I’ve been there.
We continue working a bit more before Frankie approaches, shirtless, covered in dirt, and sweating from his own—clearly much more strenuous—work.
“Apparently, I signed up for the wrong job,” Frankie teases me with a wink as he bumps against my shoulder.
He looks hot as the sun glistens off his body, reminding me of what it was like messing around with him the other night, making me wish that we could do more stuff like that.
“What have you guys been up to?” he asks.
“Just planting some flowers,” his mom replies, “and I was just telling Evan some embarrassing stories from when you were a kid.”
“You did what?” Frankie asks, his expression twisting up with worry.
She throws her head back as she laughs.
It’s an uninhibited, free laugh. It’s not the sort of laugh I would have expected from her before we met, considering most of what I’ve heard has been about the dark time she and Frankie experienced with his father. I didn’t picture this fun, easygoing woman with such a great sense of humor.
As she looks to Frankie, her eyes fill with appreciation and sincere adoration for her son, she says, “I’m only teasing.”
“Wait, I want to hear an embarrassing story about Frankie,” I insist.
“This is why I never introduced the two of you.” Frankie folds his arms so that those thick biceps and triceps flex. He shakes his head.
“Oh, come on, Frankie.” I approach him. “I already know how to get to you.”
I reach for him, sliding my hand under his arm and he pulls away quickly, a broad grin stretching across his face.
“You’re playing with fire, Evan. You’re gonna get burned.”
“And you might just get tickled.”
I’m too tempted not to attack. I reach out and wiggle my finger under his arm.
He pulls away swiftly, already laughing at the mere thought of me touching him, so I keep going at him, and he stumbles back, hitting a tree root with his heel.
“Frankie!” I say, grabbing him to keep him from falling, but he stumbles and we both go falling into the shallow part of the pond, me landing on top of him as water splashes around us.
We both curse as we quickly scramble to reach into our pockets.
“Phones, phones, phones,” I say quickly as we retrieve them. Fortunately, though our asses and wallets are soaked, our phones survived the accident.
“Thank God!” I exclaim.
We rise from the water, standing ankle-deep in the pond. He takes my phone and wallet from me like he’s going to check to make sure they’re okay, then he sets them on the shore along with his own. I start to get out when he hooks an arm around me and lifts me into the air the way he carried those bags of pine chips.
“Frankie! Frankie!”
“Uh-uh. You gotta get disciplined for that.”
It reminds me of when we’re in puppy training mode and I’m disobedient.
I’m laughing so hard that I can’t even fight him as he pulls us into a deeper part of the pond, dropping me in and squatting down beside me.
Soon, we’re splashing each other, laughing.
I can hear Freddie and Frankie’s mom laughing at us as we keep splashing. There’s this lightness in Frankie’s eyes, a playfulness that’s so familiar to me.
Finally, I stop splashing and call out, “Uncle, uncle!”
He stops and approaches me. “Uncle? First you want to call me Daddy, and now you want to call me Uncle?” He winks, and I’m a fit of chuckles as we gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment. I’m genuinely appreciating just being here with him, having a good time, being soaking wet and ridiculous, and…most importantly, letting go.
It reminds me of the puppy play.
No, I can’t completely let go yet, but a moment like this reminds me that I’ve come a long way since we started.
That it’s helped me free up a bit more in real life. If it weren’t for Frankie, I wouldn’t be able to truly enjoy this moment with him the way I am now, and I’m so appreciative of that.
His gaze shifts down to my lips briefly before he turns, and I follow his gaze to his mom, who stands on the shore, my phone in her hand. She’s clearly taking a picture of us.
“Mom,” he calls out.
She giggles.
“I’m sorry, mijo. You two just looked too cute. I had to. It’s just a picture, but I should have gone Facebook Live with it.”
“I bet you would have,” Frankie teases.
“It’s a really cute picture.”
As we make it to the shore, Frankie helps me out of the pond, and we realize that we don’t have many options for drying off, so we just stand there, soaked, as Frankie’s mom shows us the pic she took.
We’re wearing the biggest fucking smiles ever as we gaze into each other’s eyes.
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a picture of me grinning so much. There are plenty of photos of me showing off my pearly whites, particularly back when I was modeling. But in those, I always had to force it, offer the broadest, fakest grin possible for the camera.
To me, I always felt like I had these blank, dead eyes, even as I was showing my pearly whites.
But there’s something so sincere happening in this picture, something present that I credit Frankie for bringing into my life.
“Well, you look good,” Frankie says. “I look like shit.”
“Shut up. We both look good,” I insist.
“Eh, I don’t know about that. I think you look a little better, Ev,” Frankie’s mom teases as she glances back at him. I see the warmth, the sincerity, the love in her expression. In such a simple look, I can see their history of leaning on one another, and I can’t help but envy that I never had anything like that…that there was never a parent in my life who loved me for me the way Frankie’s mom clearly loves him for him.