Chapter Seventeen
On Sunday morning, the guys met me at the storage unit. Sailo looked a little tired, but he was there right on time with everyone else.
With six people, the job was much faster and easier than I expected. Despite the constant wise-cracking about some of us being way too old for this, we had my storage unit emptied and the U-Haul loaded in no time. Moving boxes from the truck up to my third-floor apartment? Easy.
The tricky part was getting the larger things up the stairs to my apartment. If a piece of furniture wasn’t too heavy, then it was big and cumbersome and didn’t want to make the turn in the stairwell.
“See, Greg?” Ethan grumbled as four of us maneuvered a dresser around the turn. “I told you a freight elevator is a necessity for an apartment.”
“It has a freight elevator.” I adjusted my grip on the bottom of the dresser. “It just happens to be broken right now.”
“Of course it is.”
“He did this on purpose,” Dale muttered from beside me. “Any excuse to watch big strong men hump furniture up the stairs.”
“Don’t hump my dresser, Dale. You don’t know where it’s been.”
Ethan snorted. Dale rolled his eyes. Sailo, who’d been quietly helping Ethan steer the top part of the dresser around the corner, just chuckled.
“Are you four taking a break or something?” Adam’s voice echoed up the stairwell. “All I hear is jawing and no moving.”
“You got any ideas?” Ethan opened and closed his hands gingerly. “Because I’m not sure anything short of a chainsaw’s gonna get this around the corner.”
Adam looked over the dresser and scanned the stairwell. “I think if you tilt it up a bit taller, it’ll turn better.”
“We tried that.” I gestured at the ceiling. “It’s a bit low.”
“Nah. There’s room. Can’t put it all the way upright, but you should have enough clearance to get it around the corner. Might be easier to balance with a few more hands.” He paused. “Dale, why don’t you help them on that end, and Greg and I will handle it from down here.”
Dale saluted playfully. “Yes, sir.”
Chuckling, Adam muttered something and swatted his husband on the ass just before Dale squeezed past the dresser to join Sailo and Ethan.
“Ready?” I said.
“Ready,” Ethan replied.
Right then, footsteps behind us turned my head.
Rhett set a box down on the landing. “You guys need a hand?”
“Sure,” I said. “Join in the fun.”
Between all of us, we managed to get the dresser tilted enough to clear the corner without scraping the low-hanging ceiling. Finally, the damned thing was around the turn so we could get it up the next flight.
“Awesome,” Sailo said as we continued up the stairs. “Only two more turns to go.”
All of us groaned.
Fortunately, now that we’d figured out how to steer the bulky bastard around the turns, the rest of the climb was smooth sailing. Not easy—why had I bought such a heavy fucking dresser?—but smoother. Once it was on the third floor, we guided it into my apartment, down the hall, and into its designated spot in my bedroom, where I vowed it would remain until the sun burned out.
“Whoever moves into this place after me can have it,” I said as Adam and I pushed it up against the wall.
“Good plan.” Adam dusted off his hands. “I’m starting to understand why someone invented inflatable furniture.”
“Seriously,” I said.
With the stupid dresser where it belonged, we broke for lunch. Sailo went downstairs to lock up the truck, and I ordered pizza. While we waited for the driver, we all lounged in my half-furnished living room, cracking open beers and resting our feet and backs.
And then, of course, it was back to the grind.
By mid-afternoon, after the heavy lifting was finished, everyone except for Sailo left. Together, we moved from room to room, emptying boxes and arranging furniture until my apartment vaguely resembled a place where a person might live.
In the kitchen, dishes and silverware found homes. Becky had kept the china from our wedding, and I’d taken the everyday stuff—she’d never been terribly fond of it anyway, and I didn’t have any use for the china. I’d bought new pots and pans, measuring cups, silverware—all the shit people bought when they were just starting out. Admittedly, it was a little strange adding my new odds and ends to the old things I’d brought from my marriage. Stacking a new set of mixing bowls beside the baking sheets that had been a wedding gift? That would’ve been strange even if I hadn’t been doing it with the help of the man I’d recently started dating.
“This is so weird,” I said after a while.
“Hmm?” Sailo looked up from breaking down an empty box.
“Just…it’s weird, you know?” I closed a cabinet and turned to him. “One day you’re taking for granted you’ll be with this person forever, and the next, you’re moving into your own place.”
Nodding, he put the box aside and came closer. “I’ve never been with anyone as long as you were with her.” He rested a hand on the small of my back. “But I get it. It’s always strange, starting over.”
I wrapped my arm around him, grateful for his presence and the comfort of his touch. “It really is. I mean, I’m getting back on my feet, and I’m ready to move forward. But I do still kind of feel…”
“Shell-shocked?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
He nodded again and kissed my cheek. “It always kind of reminds me of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons. When a bomb goes off, and Daffy Duck is standing there covered in soot, looking like ‘what the fuck just happened?’ That’s about how I feel after a breakup.”
I thought about for a moment, then nodded. “That’s…pretty accurate, now that I think about it.” I exhaled. “The most bizarre part is it’s like there’s two sides of me. One side is moving on, getting the hang of this new life.” I squeezed him gently and smiled. “Seeing someone new.”
He smiled back.
“And the other…” I sighed. “The other is stuck in the past and still standing there, covered in soot, wondering what the fuck just happened.”
“But it’s good that you’re not just in the past. You’re dealing with it, and you’re moving on.” He shrugged. “At this point, what else can you do?”
“Take it a day at a time, I guess.” I touched his face. “And you’ve made a huge difference. Just so you know.”
He covered my hand with his and kissed my palm. Meeting my gaze again, he said, “I’m happy to help.”
“Thank you.” I drew him in and kissed him softly, intending to keep it brief. Then I decided, to hell with it, and wrapped my arms around him, letting the kiss linger. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind, and I was pretty sure my body was too tired to get aroused, but this was too good to rush.
Sailo was apparently on the same page. He held me close and opened to my kiss, but didn’t push for anything more. He let the moment be, and so did I.
Eventually, we separated, and when our eyes met, my heart fluttered.
Sometimes, as I sifted through all the emotions that came with my divorce, it was hard to imagine ever being completely back to normal. Moving on to the point that I thought of my marriage the way I did my school years and my past jobs—significant eras of my timeline that could be viewed objectively and without feeling like the whole world had tilted off its axis.
Moments like this—standing in my new kitchen with Sailo smiling up at me, his gentle kiss still tingling on my lips—made me believe that moving on was not just a possibility. It was inevitable. It was already happening. And for the most part, it felt pretty fucking good.
I kissed him once more, quickly this time, and we let each other go. “Guess we should get some of those boxes out of here.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
We got back to work, gathering up the empty boxes and carrying them down to the Dumpster. When we returned to the apartment, I decided the kitchen was more or less coming together, so we moved onto the living room. Like all the others, this room was still populated by boxes more than anything, but little by little, things were coming out and finding homes. A few books had found their way onto the newly assembled bookcase. Some framed pictures were leaning against the wall, waiting for me to hang them up.
The sofa didn’t look quite right without the loveseat. The coffee table’s glass top seemed bleak and bare without the shadows from the pine tree branches coming in through the window, and without that cluster of three purple candles I’d always hated.
The walls were completely bare at the moment, but the absence of the fading wedding photos prodded at my consciousness like a strobe light—undeniably there no matter how much I tried to ignore it. And little by little, that strobe illuminated the other things that were missing. The kitchen doorway didn’t have that slightly uneven place where I’d had to replace the molding after my kids decided to ride their bikes in the house. The dining room table was gone, along with the books and papers and pencils spread out across it while we’d helped the kids with their homework. No more hash marks on the wall between the kids’ bedrooms where we’d marked their heights from the day we moved in and on every subsequent birthday until they’d stopped growing. Or where we’d started doing the same for my granddaughter.
None of that was a surprise but damn, it took my breath away to see it all at once. Everything in this apartment and left behind added up to the sum I’d been trying to ignore all this time—she was gone. That life was over. Twenty-seven years, twenty-five of them with a ring on my hand, and it was done. Gone. Behind me. Reduced to the pieces I’d taken with me. All things I’d taken for granted, never thought twice about, and suddenly they were all that was left. The handful of household items salvaged from the rubble after a tornado. From nondescript thing to treasured keepsake in the blink of an eye.
“Greg?” Sailo’s voice jarred me right to the core.
I quickly wiped my eyes and forced a smile before I turned. “Sorry, what?”
He furrowed his brow, tilting his head as if he could read everything I was trying to hide. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Why did it take so much effort to say one single word? I’d felt so good just a few minutes ago in this kitchen, and now…this?
I sank onto the sofa, ignoring that conspicuous emptiness where the loveseat should have been. Pressing my elbows into my thighs, I slid my hands into my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.
He sat beside me and touched my shoulder. “It’s sinking in, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess I—” I cleared my throat. “I guess I thought I was over it. More over it than this, anyway.”
“Over it?” He slipped his fingers between mine. “You said yourself you’re still kind of in shock over it.”
“I know, but…”
“Greg.” He squeezed my hand. “Your marriage isn’t even cold in the grave. How could you be over it?”
Eyes closed, I exhaled hard. “But I…”
He was right. Of course he was. And I knew damn well there was no reason for me to be over it yet, no reason I could fool him into believing it any more than I believed it myself. But if I let myself go down that road, he was going to see a side of me I’d had to fight hard to hide from everyone. From my ex, from my kids, from the friends who’d helped me pick up the pieces. The floodgates had held this long. Much more, and they were going to give, and God help me, I wanted to be alone when they did.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You’ve been so amazing today, and you didn’t come over here to listen to me—”
“Greg,” he said just as softly. “Look at me.”
I turned to him, forcing my eyes to focus on his.
He touched my face. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”
And as soon as he’d said that, I couldn’t be strong anymore. I rested my elbows on my knees, covered my eyes with one hand, and let go.
I’d cried the night she’d told me she was leaving. Or, rather, that I was leaving. Since then, I’d been wrapped up in moving on and keeping a stoic face for the kids. Focused on legal paperwork and finding an apartment and settling in and Sailo.
But now, it all came crashing down. The tears wouldn’t stop.
Sailo wrapped his strong arms around me and stroked my hair, not saying a word but not letting go either. My God, I was grateful for him. By all rights, he didn’t even need to be here helping me move, and this? Holding me up while it all came down?
“I’m so sorry.” I wiped my eyes with a shaking hand. “Asking you to help me move was above and beyond. This…this is way too much.”
“No. It’s not.” He took my other hand and kissed my fingers. “You’re human, and so am I. You’re going through some tough shit, and just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean I can’t also be a friend.”
“Thank you.” I swiped at my eyes again. “God, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Slowly, I pulled myself together. Why did this have to happen now? Tonight? With him here? Though I was grateful for him, I could’ve done without him seeing me like this. But, it was done. Not much I could do about it. Hopefully he wouldn’t run for the hills after he left tonight.
After a while, I exhaled and turned to him, running my thumb back and forth along his hand. “Ninety-five percent of the time, I swear I’m not like this.”
“I know.” He paused. “Do you, um, want me to stay?”
Please, don’t leave.
I dabbed at my eyes. “I do, but I can’t promise anything…you know…”
He put a hand on my leg and squeezed gently. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to go fool around. I asked if you wanted me to stay.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Come on.” He rose, extending his hand. “Why don’t we go relax where it’s more comfortable?”
And get away from all these reminders of my past life? Yes, please.
I took his hand and stood, and we didn’t let go as we walked down the hall.
Fully dressed, we lay back on my bed. As we settled, the bedframe creaked and groaned like they all did, but it had a different voice from the one I’d slept in for the past fifteen years, after my ex-wife and I replaced the one we’d had since we got married.
We met in the middle of the mattress, Sailo’s head resting on my chest and my arm wrapped around his shoulders. I was exhausted—nothing like moving a house full of furniture to remind a man of his age—but wide awake, and we just lay there awhile, breathing in sync with our arms around each other.
A mix of sadness and relief tangled in my chest. I couldn’t remember when Becky and I had stopped sleeping like this. When that tiny bit of space between us had started expanding until it became a gap, a canyon, and then a rift.
The worst part was realizing even more than before how long my marriage had really been over. How long it had been since Becky and I had touched like Sailo and I touched now. There was nothing sexual about the way he held me. It was all comfort and affection, the gentle warmth of one person keeping the other from coming completely unraveled. I missed her, but I’d missed this too, and realizing how much I must have deprived her of it, realizing how much I craved it myself, realizing how far gone our marriage had been before she’d finally dropped the hammer… It was too much.
It hurt to realize how long the divorce had been brewing, and how blind I must’ve been for it to catch me by surprise. The writing had been on the wall, clearer than our kids’ names and heights between their bedroom doors, and I hadn’t seen it.
And yet, there was relief, because even though all of that was hard to swallow, the fact was, I wasn’t lying in bed with someone who was a million miles away. The last few weeks had been hell, but the silver lining was the man who’d suddenly come into my life. Without this divorce, without all this upheaval, I never would have known him. Whatever Sailo and I were doing, it gave me some hope I hadn’t had in a long time. Like even if this wasn’t love, and didn’t turn into anything remotely resembling love, it gave me that little inkling of hope that love like that was still a possibility for me. Maybe, just maybe, I was still someone a person could fall in love with someday.
Sailo eventually broke the silence. “You all right?”
“I will be.” I kissed his temple. “And thanks again. For being there.”
“Don’t mention it.” He lifted himself and kissed me, gently pressing his lips to mine but not pursuing anything more. As he settled in beside me again, I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing but the warmth of his skin against mine.
Yeah, I’d be all right. The divorce sucked. Starting over sucked. But the dust was settling. Maybe that was the hardest part. Not the shock, not the transition, but the realization that the book was closed and that piece of my life was now buried and gone. There was nothing left to do now but catch my breath, pick myself up, and move on.
He gently freed himself from my arms and pushed himself up on one elbow, gazing down at me. “I know it’s not the same, but like I said, I’ve been through my share of breakups. None of them were as long as your marriage, and there weren’t kids involved.” He touched my face, his eyebrows pulling together as he held my gaze. “But I understand. It hurts, and it shakes up your whole life.”
I nodded. “It really does. And I’m still worried as hell this is fucking with the kids more than they’re letting on.” I glanced at him. “Is it crazy that I really want to come out to them?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you?”
“Yeah. I guess…I don’t know. I want them to know I’m moving on, and I also want to be honest with them. About who I am.” I absently scratched the back of my neck, then rested my hand on his arm. “I’ve kept this side of myself a secret for so long, and now that I’m actually living it…”
“You want to tell people.”
I nodded again.
“So, tell them.”
“You don’t think…” I moistened my lips. “You don’t think that would be too much for them right now?”
His eyes lost focus, and he seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Well, if it were me, I’d want to know that my parents were getting back on their feet after a divorce. And I think if one of them could look me in the eye and tell me they were gay, I’d be happy they could be that honest with me.” He gently rested a hand on my chest. “But you know your relationship with them better than I do.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “They probably know their mother is dating again. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let them know I’m dating. Dating a man.”
He smiled. “Well, you’ve finally had a chance to explore a side of you that you thought you never would. You have the opportunity now to be honest with yourself. So maybe this also means you can be open and honest with your kids about it too.”
I swallowed. “I… God. I want to, and then I don’t know if they could…right now…”
He squeezed my hand. “If they were little, then maybe they’d be angry and want you back with your wife because that’s the family they’re used to. But they’re adults. Change is still hard for them, but they’re mature enough to understand that their parents need to be happy too. It might take some getting used to, knowing their dad isn’t straight, but it might be a sign to them that you’re going to be okay after the divorce. Like you’re going to move on and be all right.”
“Assuming they don’t think the divorce was because I’m gay. Or bi. Or…or whatever I am.”
“Tell them,” he said simply. “They’re old enough to understand.”
“True.” I sighed. “I guess I’m just terrified of them hating me. Thinking I cheated on their mom, or…” I shook my head. “I’m overthinking it, I know.”
“These are your kids. Of course you’re worried. You don’t want to hurt them or make them think you hurt their mom.” He kissed my fingers. “Tell them the truth. If they don’t understand right away, they will eventually.”
“I hope so.” I paused, then laughed dryly. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be an awkward conversation?”
Sailo whistled. “It will be.”
“Been there?”
He laughed. “Greg, I had my son with a lesbian couple. You don’t think I’ve had a few awkward conversations with family members?”
“How did your families take that?”
“Eh, there were mixed reviews. My parents were happy to finally have a grandchild. Lea’s family was iffy about the whole thing right up until the day Mika was born. And C.J.’s parents disowned her the day they found out she was a lesbian, so I don’t even think they know about Mika. The rest of her family was thrilled, though.” He ran his hand up my arm. “Your kids might have mixed reviews too. And, I mean, you know them, so you’d know better than I do if they’re ready to hear this. But it could be a chance for them to see that you’re moving on, and not wallowing in the divorce. It’s good for kids to see that.”
“True.”
“Sleep on it tonight.” He caressed my face with a lightly callused hand. “Settle into your place. When you’re ready, then talk to them. But take care of you too.”
“I will.” I lifted my head and kissed him softly. “Thank you again. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m here if you need me.”
I shouldn’t need you as much as I do.
“Maybe…” I hesitated. “Maybe we should grab a shower and call it a night. I think I’ve had enough of unpacking things. You’re, um, welcome to stay if you want to.”
I was sure he was going to politely bow out and never look back.
But instead, he leaned down and kissed me again. “I’d love to.”