Two years later
Jake
The May day was gorgeous and sunny, a particularly fine afternoon for Boston. Yesterday, Andy had graduated from Harvard law school and we’d all gone to his commencement—Andy’s parents, my mom, me, and some of our friends. Today his folks were throwing a party for him at their place, a fancy affair with lots of friends of the Tylers and people from his and her work. They were what his dad would call “good contacts.” The Tylers’ Belmont residence was a huge old brick colonial that had been renovated years ago and had gates, a large lawn, and a garden out back complete with a pool and guesthouse.
It was nothing like the one-bedroom apartment Andy and I shared near the Harvard campus, but I preferred our place by far. It was in a hip little neighborhood with great restaurants, and we could walk everywhere. Plus it was super gay-friendly. I couldn’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else.
“You got registered for your fall classes all right?” Andy’s dad asked me.
We were standing by the pool, him sipping something like a martini from a short square glass and me just enjoying the sunshine.
“Yup. Though I’m only taking one, that Advanced AI class. Now that Andy’s graduated, I thought we could both use a semester that’s not so busy.”
I’d been taking two classes a semester at MIT toward my master’s, on top of working full-time at Strictly Robotics, a company founded by a bunch of MIT graduates. It was all good, but I could use a little more time with my husband.
Andy’s dad nodded. “That makes sense. You boys have been working hard.”
“Right. Plus Andy will be traveling around New England a lot with his new job. We thought it would be fun if I could go with him once in a while for the weekend.”
Andy’s mom came up to us, a cocktail in her hand. “Did I hear you say ‘travel’? Where are you going, Jake? Oh, can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I just finished a glass of wine. I was telling Bryan that I hope to be able to go with Andy on some of his trips for work. His firm has been repping a number of pro hockey teams, and they told Andy they might send him up to Ontario for their talks with the Canadian Hockey League.”
“Oh. I’m sure that would be fun,” Andy’s mom said unconvincingly.
I laughed. “Yeah, I know Ontario isn’t exactly Greece, but we’re young and stupid so we like to go just about anywhere. You guys will put us to shame when you come home all tan and . . . and Grecian next month.”
Andy’s mom looked up at his dad, who was way taller than she was, and gave him a soft smile. He put one arm around her and hugged her.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “We may not make it to the beach all that much.” He smirked down at her.
Yeah. Okay. Way too much information. I really didn’t want to think about them not sunbathing. Though it did seem like they’d gotten closer lately, and that was nice. Maybe there was something to be said for being empty nesters.
“Andy is suddenly really into ice hockey,” I said to change the subject. “He’s so excited about working with hockey teams. He dragged me to the skating rink last weekend, and that’s about all he’ll watch on TV. Go Bruins!”
Andy’s mom and dad were still looking at each other and paid me no mind, so I took the opportunity to sneak away. I did need another drink, come to think of it. Or food would be good. There was a buffet set up inside. And where was Andy? Seeing his parents being smoopy made me crave a hug from my man. Husband. We were coming up on our year anniversary. Maybe we could celebrate it in Ontario?
I went over to the outside bar to see if he was there, but he wasn’t. I did find my mom and her boyfriend, Sherman. He was an older man, not particularly handsome but very sweet. As I accepted their repeated congratulations for Andy’s sake, I looked around, wondering where he’d gone.
I finally got away from them and walked around the pool toward the house.
His mom stopped me at the far side of the pool. “Have you seen Andy?” she asked. “There’s someone here I want him to meet.”
“I don’t know,” I began. “He was—”
“Jake Masterson!” Andy’s voice rang out, loud.
It took me a moment to spot him. He was on the roof of the guesthouse wearing his swim trunks and a T-shirt. Oh boy.
“What’re you doing up there, hon?” I called out, shading my eyes to look up at him.
“Andy, come down from there!” said his mother.
Andy threw his arms wide and shook his head. “Nope! Tell me you love me, Jake, or I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll jump into the pool.”
“Don’t you dare!” called his mother, aghast. “You’ll break a leg!”
“Andy, no!” said my mom.
His dad came barging out of the house with plates in both hands. “Andrew, get down from there!”
Everyone at the party stopped their conversations to look up at the guest of honor. There were worried murmurs.
I studied him thoughtfully. Although I shouldn’t have been able to detect the wicked sparkle in his eyes from this distance, especially back lit as he was, I so did. Or maybe I just knew it was there. With his arms wide like he was on stage, his body was filled with a happy, excited tension usually reserved for when he came into the bedroom after school hoping for a quickie.
I considered the situation.
He’d freak out our parents, and all the guests, important guests. But he’d been such a very good boy. He’d worked so hard through law school, and he hadn’t pulled a single stunt since that firecracker dare over two years ago. Besides, he and I had jumped off that guesthouse roof into the pool about a hundred times in our youth when no one was home. It was hardly dangerous. And it was his graduation party.
Decision made, I put my palms up in alarm. “Andy, don’t! It’s too far. You won’t make it! Come on down, honey, please?”
“Tell me you love me!” he insisted, backing up and crouching down for a sprint.
“I love you, crazy person! Now don’t do it! You’ll start your career in a full-leg cast! You’ll break your neck hitting the water too hard! You’ll drown! You’ll—”
Andy ran full tilt toward the edge of the roof, leaped into thin air, rolled into a ball, and landed in the pool with a huge splash.
Everyone on the sides of the pool got wet, including me and his mother.
Andy bobbed to the surface and wiped his face, grinning.
“I need a drink,” his mother muttered, walking away.
He swam toward me, and I met him at the edge of the pool. I squatted down and his wet hand grasped my shirt. His eyes were shining.
“I love you too, wingman,” he said, and he kissed me.