Chapter Twenty-Two
Eleven Months Later
“It feels weird to not have to worry about the dogs.” Adrian sped up to keep up with Noah’s resolute strides across the Charleston Airport. He loved how brave Noah was being, while his own chest threatened to rattle apart with nerves. Adrian had scripted entire space battles with less logistics and drama than this Thanksgiving trip to meet Noah’s family.
“I already texted the dog sitter. Twice.” Noah laughed. Ulysses had a cushy new dog bed in the corner of Adrian’s living room and Noah had a good section of Adrian’s closet. They needed more room. And a backyard for the dogs.
Noah’s RV park was only a few miles from both Adrian and work. They used Adrian’s car for grocery trips, and it hadn’t escaped Adrian’s notice that lately, they were only buying supplies for Adrian’s apartment. It had been since a late-summer road trip that they’d spent a night in the motor home.
Adrian wasn’t going to complicate this trip, but he had big plans for Christmas. He was going to ask Noah to look at condos together when all this holiday travel was behind them. Shiny new house keys would match the shiny ring Adrian wanted to give Noah. The time wasn’t right yet. But soon. They had come so far in the past year. Adrian could afford to be patient because he knew Noah wasn’t going anywhere.
He had a year full of shared dinners and brown-bag lunches and walks around the Santa Monica dog parks to look back on. And sure, it hadn’t all been perfect—Noah missed teaching, and they could both get a little cranky under deadlines at work. They escaped the city whenever they could—he couldn’t give Noah back fieldwork, but he could try to give him the solitude he craved. Somehow they made it work. Noah handled putting dinner in the Crock-Pot before they left for work. Adrian handled getting the tea kettle on while he did the dishes. Noah had more flexible hours, so he handled vet trips and errands, while Adrian paid the dog walker, since Ulysses got him and Pixel kicked out of doggie daycare. It was all good, this crazy shared life of theirs.
And that shared life meant a big meet-the-family trip. Adrian knew he was possibly even more nervous than Noah. He wanted these people to like him. Heck, he’d settle for just not offending any of them. They followed the stream of people to baggage claim. Noah stopped to check the list of baggage carousels to see which one was theirs. While he looked, Adrian caught sight of a group of dark-haired people. Thanks to Skype and social media, Adrian knew those faces. He poked Noah. Hard.
“Noah. Look.”
“They came. They all came.” Noah’s voice shook. Ruth and her husband Tom stood with their three kids—a bored near-teenager and the two younger kids jumping up and down. And Noah’s mother. And Noah’s mother’s friend—an older gentleman who had been showing up in lots of family photos ever since the spring.
“Uncle Noah!” The younger kids broke loose of their parents and barreled straight into Noah’s middle. He dropped to a crouch, hugging them tight.
* * *
Noah’s sinuses burned. Adrian must have sensed how close he was to tears because he put a hand on his shoulder, patted him gently. Noah had tried hard these past few weeks to put a positive spin on things for Adrian, to try to suppress his nerves. He’d needed to believe that things would go okay. And if they didn’t? Well, he’d survive that too.
But this show of support was totally outside his biggest hopes for the visit. He looked up and Ruth and his mother were right there behind the kids. They had all come. For me.
“You came,” he said, voice thick. “We rented a car.”
“Now what kind of greeting would that be?” Tom said, voice booming. “Can’t have y’all flying half across the country with no one to greet you.”
Noah had been most worried about Tom. If anything, his family was even more conservative and religious than Noah’s growing up. And Tom wasn’t one for social media. He didn’t do Skype with Ruth and the kids. They had a couple of awkward phone conversations, but otherwise, Noah had been left to speculate about this moment.
“You’re here. You’re really here.” His mother was next to hug him. “Now let me get a look at you. I’ve got a nice roast in the Crock-Pot back at the house. And an upside-down cake in my other slow cooker.”
Adrian made a sound that might have been a swallowed-back laugh. “See, ba—Noah. You could use a second one. If you get the bigger one you’ve been eyeing, you can use your current one for desserts.”
“You still use the one I sent you to graduate school with?” His mother asked, eyes misty. She couldn’t cry. If she cried, Noah would cry for sure. The Crock-Pot was supposed to have been a wedding present for him and Sarah, he was sure of it, but his mother hadn’t said anything, had just presented it wrapped in graduation paper. They’d logged a lot of miles together, him and that Crock-Pot.
“Almost every day,” he said. Sure, he coveted the stainless steel digital timer model Adrian had shown him, but there was something about his old ceramic friend with the faded blue geese on the crock.
“Good. I can show you this slow cooker blog I’ve been following.”
“You follow a blog?”
“Mom has an iPad now,” Ruth said, leaning into to squeeze him. “She has more apps than Thomas Junior.”
“Not really,” his nephew piped up. “I’ve been telling all my friends about you, Uncle Noah.”
“Oh?” Noah tried not to freak. Telling people about his gay uncle—
“Dude. My uncle works for Space Villager. Everyone wants to meet you. You’re like...a celebrity.” Thomas Junior cut off his younger brother and slapped Noah on the back. It was getting a bit crowded up in his space.
“Should we get the luggage?” Adrian asked. Noah knew he was trying to herd people off of him. He knew even before Noah when Noah needed his space. Right when he’d reach his limit of LA and Santa Monica, Adrian would have everything all packed for a weekend camping trip. And thanks to Adrian, Noah had a corner cube, way out of the way of the espresso machine and the snack fridge and the noisy designing team pen. He was under an air-conditioning vent, but he’d take wearing sweaters in July over interruptions.
“Oh! I forgot to introduce you,” Noah said as the family finally released him. “Everyone, this is Adrian, my boyfriend.” He did it without a pause, without a stutter, without looking around to see who might be listening. He had a whole year of practice now. Last week, he’d held Adrian’s hand walking in Joslyn Park with the dogs and held hope he’d keep getting bolder.
In fact, he wouldn’t mind a little more permanent title for Adrian. Christmas was coming, and with that, even more family craziness. No way was Noah suddenly brave enough to give Adrian his real present in front of Adrian’s whole family, but they’d have New Year’s back home. And he’d ring in the New Year the same way he had the year before. By taking a leap of faith.
* * *
Entering his mother’s house also required faith. Faith that things weren’t going to be weird. Faith that he wouldn’t feel so much like an outsider as before. So much was changed about the house—new planters out front, two big rockers on the front porch. Mr. Stevens, the retired band director, joining them for dinner. That was certainly new. Her cooking was good as ever, and she even had gluten-free cornbread for Adrian. Her kitchen smelled like rosemary and beef with a hint of sweet pineapple—the sorts of scents he associated closely with the happy times in his otherwise turbulent childhood. The chaos that used to bother him—Ruth’s kids bickering over a video game in the living room, Tom and Mr. Stevens discussing the Panthers’ playoff chances, Ruth and his mother bustling around the kitchen—felt more manageable. Home. He felt home in a way he hadn’t in over fifteen years.
He glanced over at Adrian, who was playing with his mother’s sheltie. Maybe Noah felt more at home because he already had a home. Adrian had given him this peace, had enabled him to do the hard work on himself to get to this place where he could be himself and not cower.
“What?” Adrian looked up.
“Nothing,” Noah said softly. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”
“Me too.” Their eyes held, and it was exactly the sort of intimate moment, the little island of calm, he’d always craved.
The guest room was Ruth’s old room, redone in lavender with a large magnolia painting on the wall. His old room was now the workout and painting room. More new stuff—his mother taking art classes at the senior center and logging miles on a fancy new exercise bike. It was just as well that she’d changed everything. As much as Adrian probably would have gotten a kick out of his rock collection and Star Trek posters, Noah doubted he could have handled sleeping in there.
Baby steps.
This was strange enough, Adrian hefting their suitcases onto the low chest at the foot of the bed, his mother hovering in the doorway.
“Well. Um. Goodnight.” She drummed her index finger against her lips in exactly the same cadence he did when nervous. “Ruth and the kids are coming over in the morning to watch the parade and start cooking. I know you’re on West Coast time, so we’ll try to be quiet—”
“We’ll be up.” He stooped to kiss her check.
“I got some nice breakfast teas.”
“Thanks.”
She lingered, mouth moving like she might have more to say, but she just licked her lips.
“Good night, Mrs. Walters,” Adrian called from inside the room.
“Laura, dear. You can call me Laura.” His mother gave a weak laugh. “Noah?”
“Yes?” A few more bolts shook loose of the rusty airplane, ribs aching from the rattle of his heart. Here it came—some rule or request or condition of his being here.
“I’m so happy you came. You’ll...be back, right? I’ve missed you terribly. I want you to feel welcome here. Really welcome. You seem...happy. And I’ve waited so long to be able to say that.”
“I am,” he said, throat thicker than his best hiking socks. “And yes, I’ll be back.”
“Good.” She walked away, steps slower than his last visit, a little hitch in her step he’d never noticed before.
“Are you really happy?” Adrian asked as Noah shut the door. And locked it, bless Ruth and her teenage insistence on privacy.
“Yes. I really am.” And he was—he had an interesting job that kept him on his toes, coworkers who made him laugh and who never judged him. He looked forward to going into work every day, and not surprisingly, work without the anxiety over his secrets being discovered was far more enjoyable, even if he did miss having students from time to time. Also freed from the prison he’d made for himself, his faith had returned. The tortuous relationship he’d had with God during the past decade had mellowed, and he’d found a progressive church in Santa Monica that did a lot of potlucks and hiking trips. Adrian tagged along to some of the events, and life was indeed good.
Not that life could be bad as long as he had Adrian. He watched Adrian change into new pajamas—they’d both gotten so used to going without that a trip to the store had been needed. He didn’t feel arousal at the sight of Adrian’s smooth flesh as much as pride. This was his man. His home. His future.
He quickly tugged on his own pajamas. “You check on the dogs?” he asked.
“Yes, worrywart.” Adrian laughed. “And I know you did too. Your mom’s dog is nice enough, but it made me miss ours more.”
“I know what you mean. Being here is easier than I expected, but it makes me miss our own place. Appreciate it more.”
“Our place?” Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. Ours. Both places are kind of ours now.”
A wide smile spread across Adrian’s face. “I feel that way too. Wasn’t sure if you did.”
“Of course I do.” He did what he’d been dying to do for hours and wrapped his arms around Adrian. Adrian, being Adrian, upped the ante, kissing him long and slow. Alone like this, wrapped in Adrian’s embrace, he felt whole, in a way he never had before. He was gradually re-forming a relationship with his family of birth, but Adrian was his family of now. His family of choice. His family of the future.
“Adrian?” he whispered, not sure why since they were alone, but this request seemed to demand hushed tones.
“Yeah, baby?” Adrian cuddled him closer, stroking Noah’s head.
“You know how you said to tell you when I have a new dream? Something I want more than I wanted tenure?”
“Of course. Whatever it is—even if it is tenure somewhere new. Or fieldwork. Whatever it is, I support—”
“I want to be a father.” His voice was barely audible as he voiced the dream he’d given up on so long ago. The dream that holidays and togetherness always seemed to threaten to resurrect. And now, he was finally ready to embrace it.
Adrian’s eyes went wide, but his smile didn’t droop. “Yes. I love that dream. I got to tell you though, I might not look like it, but I’m a pretty old-fashioned guy. I think we need to get married first.”
“Do we?” He laughed, because it didn’t matter how he looked, Adrian was exactly that type of old-fashioned guy.
“Yes. We do. And now I’ve totally tipped my hand for New Year’s and ruined that surprise.”
“Wait. You had plans for New Year’s? I had plans for New Year’s. Scary good ones that I was working up the courage for—”
“Really?” Adrian’s grin threatened to cleave the narrow room in two. “What if we both ask at exactly the same time, and we both say yes, and then there’s nothing scary about it.”
“What? Right now?”
“I’m not sure I can wait all the way until New Year’s. Besides, this is kind of how we roll, right? Unexpectedly awesome Thanksgiving surprises?”
“I guess it is. So how are we doing this? On three?”
“Yes.” Adrian held him tighter.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” And then they were kissing and it was several long moments before they came up for air.
“You know,” Adrian said, nipping his ear, “unless you have your heart set on some big fancy thing, we could totally still have a very special New Year’s.”
“I most definitely do not have my heart set on a big wedding. Just on you.”
As it turned out, he wasn’t making a leap of faith on New Year’s. He was past that point. He was all in with Adrian, and it was trust and commitment spurring him on. He didn’t have to have faith when he had solid, irrefutable proof that they were right and good together and that they could make a life, a home and a family together.
* * * * *