For a chapter titled "November," it is an appropriate time to say how thankful I am for the support I feel from readers. Thanks to all of you who take a moment to reach out.

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November

We didn't say much the next morning. We both ate cereal and had coffee. We had to drive separately as my car was there. We walked into the office building together. We nodded to a few people, but neither of us spoke. Mitchell and I got on the elevator together. We each pushed the buttons to our respective floors. We were the only two on the elevator. When the doors opened, he started to step off. Then he turned around and stood before me. He gave me a kiss. Not passionate but not a peck. It was a kiss.

"Have a good day," he said. "I love you."

I didn't reply.

In terms of productivity, my morning would have been considered a new low. My focus was everywhere: trust, interest rates, Mitchell's book, the Landwirth account, Derek's dick, Raisin Bran (the wrong kind), Halloween candy, Friendsgiving, haunted orgasms. I was a mess.

I looked at my wall calendar. I flipped the page to November. I didn't get Corey on Thanksgiving Day, but I did that weekend. The weekend of Friendsgiving was free and clear in those parental terms.

An email came through. It was from Mitch.

"I have a lunch meeting tomorrow, but can we do lunch on Thursday?"

"Okay," was all I wrote.

 

—

 

That night I put on music. I had plugged in the CD player in the electronic equipment. I didn't play CDs much anymore, but I wanted to make sure it worked. I put in Taylor Swift's first album. I still liked it. I remember Natalie had given it to me. She liked it too.

"At least 95 percent," I said aloud to myself and no one else in particular. I felt I had at least that much put way. Not a whole lot was left. A few boxes needed organization more than anything else. I decided if it didn't have a place, I didn't need it. I tossed a few more items.

It wasn't too late. I texted Laramie. "Want to do dinner once I get out of my AA meeting tomorrow?"

I broke down two more boxes. I felt a few were "worthy" of keeping. Most were going to be taken to the recycling dumpster outside of our office building tomorrow.

I heard a text come in on my phone.

"Shit! I would have loved to, but I told someone I would meet them at The Black Stallion tomorrow evening."

"No problem."

"Come with me!"

No way. I couldn't dance to begin with. I sure couldn't two-step.

"Thanks for the invite. You wouldn't want to be seen with me there."

My phone rang.

"That's bullshit. Why wouldn't I want to be seen with you?"

"Laramie, I can't dance. I'd be a tree stump there."

"It's line dancing. You can jump right in."

I laughed, scoffing at the idea. Then he was quiet.

"Cooper, I'm ... I'm not doing something wrong by tempting you to go to a bar, am I?"

"No. That's not it."

"I'm sorry if it was. You're my friend. I just wanted you there. That was insensitive of me. I'm very sorry."

"Don't worry. You know I have nothing to wear that would fit that place," I said, trying to make him feel less guilty.

"Oh please. You have jeans. If you have a solid color shirt and don't wear sneakers, you'd fit fine."

Somehow within the next three minutes, I had been finagled into going. I dreaded it already, but I dreaded just sitting alone at the house even more.

 

—

 

Growing up, the music of my older siblings was pop rock. None of us were into heavy metal or anything too hard. Even more so, we all hated country music. I had no real exposure to it other than what might appear in movies or on speaker systems while shopping. Walking into a country and western bar would make me feel as comfortable as being at (or being in) a drag show — not!

The Black Stallion wasn't threatening whatsoever. Not being a dancer — and being married to Natalie who didn't drink — bars were not my thing. Dealing with business clients would take me to one on a rare occasion, but I had only a small level of experience with them. I never danced; it would just be social time with clients. I would drink.

Some of the walls were covered in wood paneling. Others had physical wood. Even though it was a gay bar, there was a women's room as well as men's. Both had barn doors. I thought it was cute. It was more subdued than bright red and white, but the idea was still conveyed. I felt it had more of a ranch motif rather than "farm." The lighting was not dim, but by no means bright. Country music permeated the entire space. On one side was a bar. It was long with seating all the way around. The bartenders had vests on but no shirts. Those with hairy chests caught my attention. There were tin roof awnings about the room and one over the bar. The state flag as well as those from Texas and Tennessee bordered in aged wood frames were mounted over the cocktail tables. There were a few tables that were lower, which I assumed would accommodate a wheelchair, but the majority of them were taller with higher bar stools. About a quarter of the place was a large wooden dance floor.

Overall, the place was fun, and even though I wasn't a fan of country music, it seemed appropriate. I looked around to locate Laramie. It was not busy as it was a weeknight and not particularly late. Laramie saw me first and waved me over. As I made my way across the room, I realized half the men in it were wearing cowboy hats. Laramie was as well. It fit him well. The western look on him was quite hot.

He introduced me to his friends.

"Cooper, this is C.J. And this is his boyfriend, Spencer."

"Hi. It's nice to meet you," I said, with them echoing the same sentiments.

"C.J. was a customer of mine three years ago. We actually went on a couple of dates."

"I was 26. I was still a stupid kid in many ways. I was in a phase where I had no intentions of getting serious, so ... it was actually three dates ... I let him go so that I wouldn't develop feelings for anyone. Let him go is a polite way of me saying blew him off."

"But look now. You and Spencer have been together seven months. You've changed quite a bit."

"I have to give Spencer a lot of credit for that. I fell in love with him pretty fast. Eventually, the idea of playing the field seemed like too much work and not as much fun. The rewards of a relationship were staring me in the face."

The couple smiled at each other and kissed.

"C.J. came into the store a few weeks ago for a project on his study. It was nice to see him again," Laramie offered.

"I'm surprised Larry even talked to me after I had treated him so badly. Thankfully, he had no hard feelings. He does great work."

"I know," I jumped in. "He just worked on my new house."

The four of us talked for a while. They asked about my house. I inquired about their jobs. It was friendly. Just visiting with people was good for me. I tried not bring up Mitch. I didn't want them to think I was a clueless clod.

C.J. looked at Spencer. "I'm ready for another. You?" His boyfriend nodded. C.J. looked at us. "Can I get you gents something?"

"Another Yuengling for me," Laramie said.

"If they have any flavored sparkling sodas, I'll take one. If not, orange juice, please."

I could tell the couple were eyeing me up. They were deciding if I was either an alcoholic or a wimp. I saw C.J.'s eyes give a one-second glance to Laramie, who gave a simple nod.

"Care to dance, handsome?" a voice said, startling me.

"Uh ... um, I'm actually here with friends. But ... uh ... thank you," I said to someone I found strikingly good looking.

"He was a hunk," said Spencer, as my would-be dance partner moved on.

"Yeah. I guess. However, I saved him the ultimate embarrassment of being on the dance floor with me."

After C.J. returned with drinks, conversation was still good. More people had entered the dance floor for two-stepping. I enjoyed watching them. I was envious of them. Dancing in front of others required courage I didn't have. I noticed the music had increased in volume even if slightly. The lights were a tad dimmer as well. This was the ambience I expected of a bar, but it was still easy enough to see and understand what others were saying. I was momentarily mesmerized by men dancing with each other. Although I had experienced it once before, the joy on their faces was heartwarming. Once again, I felt like a misfit. This time though, it was surprisingly enjoyable to watch those that did fit in.

"Gotta pee. I'll be right back," said Laramie.

The three of us watched the dance floor.

"Soooo..." C.J. said.

"Don't," said Spencer.

"Oh, why not?" C.J. scolded. "Cooper, we had hoped to introduce Larry to someone later. He was held up and won't be coming until later. But ..." He paused. "YOU are way more handsome. He invited you. What's the story between you two. Are there sparks? What's the story?"

"We're just friends."

"You sure? I see the way he looks at you."

"Really, we're just friends. I ... I have a lot of baggage. I'm getting over a breakup ... well, I was ... but I kind of am ... again ... and..." I froze. "I have a LOT of baggage."

The two them gave me an empathic look. I could tell they didn't know what to say. I shuffled a foot and then rested it on its toe.

"He's a good friend. I've enjoyed Laramie's company a lot. He's helped me through just talking things out."

"Fair enough. How did you meet?"

"Coffee collision at Joe's."

They laughed.

"Too bad," said C.J. "You're a nice man, Cooper."

"Well ... thanks. He's way better off with whomever you hope to set him up with later."

I decided Mitchell was right. I needed to talk things out with someone. I was in this inane whirlpool of no progress for weeks now. If that Derek incident wasn't going to ever resolve itself, then I needed help.

Twenty minutes later I was all but lassoed onto the dance floor.

"Just follow me," Laramie said, as we were on the end of one of the lines on the dance floor.

I tried to follow the steps. They were never too complicated, but I always felt a step behind. Truth be told, I was horrible, but I knew I was enjoying myself. After 10 minutes of this line dancing challenge to my machismo and self-bravado, I knew I was having fun. Terrible as I was, no one stared at me.

Back at our table, a new round of drinks had arrived. I believe it was the third for all of them. I visited the restroom. I imagined they asked if I was an alcoholic in my absence. If I knew Laramie, he would be embarrassed about sharing my private life but probably confirmed it.

When I returned, I noticed the three of them were all wearing cowboy boots. I had never had a pair on in my life. C.J. had a hat, Spencer did not. As I looked around, I thought everyone who was wearing a cowboy hat was good looking. I saw a few baseballs caps. I liked them too, but I was finding this countrified edge alluring. Perhaps I should consider buying one. I then decided that would look like a grandmother on a motorcycle and became self-aware it was not a good fit.

We laughed through another song as various people two-stepped behind us.

A slow song came on. Laramie grabbed my arm. "Dance with me."

I was jerked from the table with no time to even say "wait."

"You didn't even let me agree," I said smiling as he put his arms around me.

We had been on the dance floor for most of the song. I don't know how much dancing I had actually been doing. It was a lot of swaying, but it was simple. And tender. And nice. Much of the time my chin was near Laramie's shoulder; his chin was upon mine. The brim of his cowboy hat bumped into my ear a couple of times. I pulled my head and shoulders back to look up at it.

"I'm not sure what it is with me and hats, but this cowboy hat makes you look sexy as hell," I smiled.

"Y'think?"

"Yeah, I do. Do you own many?"

"Four. Two are pretty nice, this one and a brown one."

"Oh, then this one then. Black is really sexy."

We smiled at each other as we continued to sway. Then our smiles faded, and we looked into each other's eyes. We continued to sway. My arms let go of him and lifted up to take his hat off his head. We continued to sway. I held his hat behind his back. We continued to sway as our eyes continued to stay locked. We leaned in and kissed. And kissed. And kissed. And we continued to sway.

The song ended.

As a new country, two-step song started, I put his hat back on. Our chins rested on each other's shoulders. We lifted our mouths to the ear of our dance partner. "I'm sorry," we both said in unison.

His hand was on my shoulder as we walked back to our table.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"No, I'm sorry," I rebutted. "You must think the worst of me. I am trying to forgive Mitch and make things right with him, and now I'm ... I'm ... dear God, Laramie. I'm a screwed-up mess. I feel like an enormous hypocrite."

"It was just a kiss," Laramie said softly.

"I feel like I initiated it."

"Blame me."

"No! We both wanted to. I should have stopped the situation. I – I'm messed up. I'm fucked up. You should run from me. I'm one hopeless idiot."

"Maybe. Maybe. Even so, I think you are the most beautiful, wonderful hopeless idiot I've ever known," he said, his eyes all but sparkling with Disney magic. It was just the lights from the dance floor, but I had never found him more attractive. Or masculine. "Coop. You don't know how amazing you are. Maybe, one day ... maybe." He stopped. "Maybe one day we will have that first date. When you're ready and you choose."

I smiled. He reached for my hand and moved it to his crotch below the table. I could feel his jeans bulging with a titanium rod entrapped within. Then he put my hand on the table.

C.J. came back to the table following that song. His look clearly conveyed he had seen us kiss on the dance floor. He raised an eyebrow.

"Let it go," Laramie softly said.

C.J. winked at both of us. For the next half hour, none of us said a whole lot. We watched others dance. Both C.J. and his boyfriend danced with many men. One more slow dance song came on. C.J. and Spencer took each other's hands and stepped out onto the dance floor. We watched them kiss as they danced.

"I should probably head out," I said.

Laramie looked up. It sounded abrupt.

"You sure? Are you okay?"

"I am. I have work in the morning, so ..."

He reached for my hand. "Are you okay?"

"Other than being a moron, yeah. Thanks for asking me. It was ... fun. Tell the guys it was nice to meet them."

"Why don't you wait until the song is over and say goodbye."

My head bobbed side to side as I acquiesced. "Okay."

The gentlemen stayed on the floor after the slow song was over. I knew some other friend of theirs was coming soon. It would be better if I was gone. I patted Laramie's hand.

"Good night."

 

—

 

I woke up and turned off the alarm. I lay there in bed, feeling like a hypocrite. As I took a shower, I felt like a showering hypocrite. As I fixed my hair and looked in the mirror, I pondered what I would look like in a cowboy hat. My answer was a fish-out-water, blonde hypocrite.

My drive to work was not much better. Mitch had arranged lunch today. We hadn't talked much since his verbal faux pas on Halloween. I knew when I saw him, things would snap into place as they should be. Hopefully. Maybe.

"Fuck!!" I screamed at myself. "Why am I so fucked up!?"

My teeth were clenched, and my breath seethed between them. Now I was a cussing hypocrite. I tried to think about anything to calm me. Anything! My thoughts turned to Corey. I took in a deep breath. I thought of the next time I would see him. I thought of things we might do that weekend now that most everything in the house was in place.

As I sat my attaché down on my desk, I looked at the picture of Corey I had there.

"Please don't think of me as dopey or sappy, but as I look at the picture of you on my desk, I am so happy you are my son. Just wanted to remind you that you mean the world to me. Have a great day," I texted.

I knew he was in school and shouldn't acknowledge that text until lunch time. I hoped my son was following school cell phone protocol. Maybe he thought it was too lame to respond to.

I was focused again and made major headway on a new account. It was a productive morning.

Just before lunch, a text came in. Corey sent a thumbs-up emoji. I felt that appropriate enough for a father's out-of-the-blue mushy text.

Mitchell stepped into my door at 11:30. "Lunch is still on, right?"

I smiled. It was nice to see him. "Yes, indeed."

"Okay. I'll wrap up what I am working on and be back in about 15 minutes."

I couldn't finish in 15 minutes, so I let my mind wander. Every time I see Mitchell, for some reason, I just light up. Until I have trust issues. Until I think of Derek. Now I had my own actions with Laramie to rub in my face. My calm was slipping away. I loved Mitch, there was no question with that. But was our relationship healthy? If I was wrestling with all these things, was it good for me? Was it fair for him? We really made progress over the summer. Now it feels like we are strained again, like spring is here all over. What would Corey think about all this? What would he think of his father? What kind of a role model was I being?

"Let's go," Mitch said, snapping me out of my thousand questions. I hadn't realized 15 minutes had even slipped by.

Before we stepped into the hallway, he gave me a quick kiss. I accepted it. We hugged a moment. I felt he needed that comfort a moment. I probably had caused his uneasiness stemming from Halloween night.

People said hellos as we made our way to the elevator as a couple.

As we stepped into the November sunlight, there was a slight chill to the air, but the sun and upper 50s made it pleasant. As we rounded the corner of the building to the side where Mitch was parked. A FedEx truck was parked there. I immediately paused and stiffened. Mitchell grabbed my hand tightly.

"Just keep walking!" he said firmly. He held my hand and continued to guide me to his car. I said nothing.

We got in. I stared out the windshield, blankly. He got behind the wheel and started the car.

"Just don't think about it, Cooper. It's probably not even him. Just ... don't think."

Seconds later, a FedEx driver — a woman — came out the door and went to the truck.

"See?"

I said nothing. I was blank.

Five minutes later, Mitch parked at a simple corner café. Lydia's was a small place that was actually converted from an old home. The white porch rail gave the quaint place wonderful charm. The living room, dining room and den had been converted into the dining space for the café.

I was blank. My eyes glazed over at the menu. I ordered a bowl of the baked potato soup and that was all. Mitch opted for a club sandwich. We handed our menus back to the server. I had already forgotten her name by the time she had brought us iced tea.

"Cooper? Honey? Please talk to me."

"I can't form the words to express what I feel."

"It's all okay," he said. "We're going to be fine."

"I don't think so," I said flatly.

"Please don't say that."

"I don't feel good," I said, emotionless.

"Like sick sick?"

"No. Not stomach illness or anything. I just don't feel good. I don't like myself. I don't think I'm good for you, either."

"What?! I love you. Of course, you are good for me."

"Am I? I'm a mess. I am totally thrown by a truck. A TRUCK!"

A nearby table turned to look. I become embarrassed and looked down at the white tablecloth with laced touches.

"I don't know ..." he started.

"Yes, you screwed up last year. You owned up to it. I thought I forgave you ... and then Derek surfaced last month and ... and ... I feel very lost Mitchell."

"I'm with you, Coop. Let me be with you."

"But I don't think I'm good for you if I can't get past this. If I freak out all the time now, what do I have to offer you?"

The concern of where I might be headed washed over his face like a wave that would cause a skilled surfer to crash below the surface.

"No. Cooper, I love you. You're not breaking up with me, are you?" he said, with just a hint of a whimper to his voice.

"I don't think so. No. But ... I love you too. But I don't know if that's enough."

I hadn't realized it, but I had wrestled with my cloth napkin. It was tangled into a curved rope. I unfolded it and placed the messily creased fabric on my lap. I wasn't sure what I wanted to tell Mitchell. I just knew it was time to say it, whatever it was.

"Mitch, I don't think I can give you what you need. You deserve more than ... than me."

"Stop saying that. I love you. I have always loved you."

"You slept with Derek."

"God. I am so sorry about that. I've told you a million times; he means nothing."

"Don't you see? You think that makes me feel better, but ... you said you loved me, and then you screwed a guy that meant nothing to you. What does that say to ME? You cheated because of nothing?? It did mean something! It was someone who was NOT me."

I saw the server walk toward our table and went quiet. She served us each our dish. I just had a bowl of soup and still wondered how I would finish it all.

"Can I get you gentlemen anything else?" she offered.

"It looks very good," Mitch replied.

The server topped off his tea and then headed toward one of her other tables.

My soup looked good. It smelled good. I stared at it until I was hypnotized by the melting shreds of cheese merging with the creamed liquid. Crumbled bacon and chives formed a field of stars that transported me to a secondary universe in which I was floating adrift. Mitchell crunched on a kettle chip that snapped me back to the dining room. I picked up my spoon and took my first taste. It was excellent, but I wasn't enjoying it.

"Cooper, that day with Derek was the biggest mistake of my life. I so wish it never happened."

"Yet, when we split afterward, you slept with him again, right?"

He didn't answer.

"Right? You finished what I interrupted."

"That isn't fair," his voice quivered. "We were split at that point. You and I weren't together."

"But he had something that you wanted. Something I don't have."

"That's not it."

"It is it. You have your entire book of men you slept with. You keep track and take notes. What are you looking for?"

"It's ... it's just a journal."

"You write about all the ..." I looked around and lowered my voice. "... sex you've had. You want more than me, Mitch. Admit it."

"No. That's not true."

"I ... I'm not sure I will ever feel you want only me."

"I love you, Cooper."

"You keep saying that ... but is it really enough? If I asked you to give up your book — to throw it away — would you?"

"What ...? Why would you ... What would that ...?"

"See? You hesitate. You don't want to get rid of it. You love me, but ... admit it, you like sex with other people."

"That's not fair! I have done nothing but prove my loyalty these past months. What do I have to do to convince you I love you? Let's not forget your cheated on your wife with me."

Mitchell had never thrown that in my face. We didn't say anything for a few minutes. We knew we had probably garnered some glances and stares. His sandwich was cut into quarters. He ate one of them but mostly crunched on chips. I made it halfway through my soup. The server checked on us to see if we were enjoying our lunch. We nodded.

"I give you permission," I softly said.

"Huh? Permission?"

"You can sleep with whoever you want. Go out with whoever you want."

"What? Why? No. Cooper, please don't break up."

"I'm not. I hope we can still see each other. I'd like to still go out. Heaven knows every time I see you, I can't wait to be naked with you again."

Mitchell's lips bent slightly into the slightest of smiles.

"Me too," he whispered.

"But I don't know where my head is at. I'm not being fair. If all I have is doubt ... suspicions ... then that isn't fair to you. I'm not who you need me to be. If I can't trust either of us, then we're far from a committed relationship."

"Please don't break up," he whispered, pleading.

"I'm not ... specifically. I'm just giving you freedom. Guilt-free freedom. Until I can be sure, you deserve better. And I don't know how to get there."

Mitchell ate another quarter of his club sandwich. I finished my soup.

"I have a friend. He's a ... therapist. We went to college together. His name is Logan. Dr. Logan Horwood to be exact. If you want, I can give you his contact info. Maybe talking to him — or someone — might help."

"Maybe."

"Just ... just don't give up on us, babe."

"I'll try. I'm not sure what you need, but I know I am not in a good place to provide it. I'm not a good boyfriend. You deserve better."

"No. I deserve you. You're all I want. I'll go with you to see Logan if that will help."

"If I see him, I think it would be better if I went alone."

We had paid the bill and were driving back to the office. Mitch darted between lanes a couple of times that generated just enough frustration with me to push my self-pity out of the way.

"How about I come over tomorrow night. It can be our first night in the new house. We could ... y'know ... `christen' the house," Mitchell said with a smile.

I nodded. "I think I'd like that."

 

—

 

"Fuck, that feels good!" Mitchell called out as my dick slid into his hole. He was on his hands and knees on my bed. My cock glistened with clear lube before it pushed all the way into Mitchell. I groaned, and he called out, "Oh yeah!"

My hands had a firm grip on his hips. I had lit a candle next to the bed. I reached around with one of my hands, exploring underneath his hips. My grip found his erection. Mitchell often would go a bit flaccid while being screwed, but he was still firm.

"Stroke me, babe."

I leaned over some. My other arm hugged his chest. I continued to push up into his hole. I grunted as he screamed.

"Ohhhh, Cooper. I love you inside me. I love that we can be loud."

"You like being loud now?" I said, trying to sound sexy.

"Fuck! Yeah! Fuck! Me! Oh, God. Fuck me, Cooper."

I leaned back up. I grabbed his hips and started a pounding rhythm. Sex was always good with Mitchell and me. We knew how to make each other feel incredible while making love. Tonight was no exception. My groans became grunts as he uttered "Ungh! Ungh. Ungh. Ungh!" in a measured chorus in four-four time with my thrusts.

Mitchell reached down and started stroking his cock. His head tilted back reaching toward the ceiling as he pleasured his erection and I shoved meat into his hole. His groans momentarily became growls. He was louder than me, which pleased me to no end. This newer version of Mitchell was even more fun, but I wasn't far behind. Our first night in my house was going to blow the roof off.

We enjoyed sex in that position for a few minutes. It felt incredibly sensual. My dick was throbbing in overtime. But I wasn't close to coming. Mitchell was. He stroked his hard-on with a fast tempo that was only trumped by his euphoric screaming. My name was called. Jesus' name was called out. Most of the vowels were called out.

"Cooper! Fuck me. I'm close. Make me come, baby."

I heard our skin slap as I battered his ass. We were yelling. It caused us both to perspire. The nerves continued to surge up and down my driving pole. I shoved harder in some impossible attempt to drive my dick inside him further than the length of my hard flesh.

"Oh, fuck, yeah! Oh, fuck, YEAH!!"

I could tell by the quaking of his body that Mitch was spasming spurt after spurt of cum onto the towel below us.

"Oooooohhhhhh," he moaned as the last of his seed dripped from his cock.

"Can I still fuck you some more?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Stay in me."

"Lay down," I directed.

He looked at his cum, but I nudged him to lay in it. He smiled up at me. I lifted his legs. He held them as I positioned my rod at his channel. I thrust into him again.

"Oh yes. That's so good."

Mitchell's cock, still fairly rigid, flopped and flipped as I continued to move my dick in and out of his hole. I knew my face was twisted in sexual pleasure. It probably looked ridiculous, but Mitch looked beautiful in the candlelight.

"Yeah, babe, keep it up. Fuck me with your cock. I love it. I love you, Cooper."

He spread his legs even wider. He took one of his hands off his leg and started tugging at the light hair I had on my pecs. I held that leg and smeared the perspiration on my face into the hair on its calf.

"Don't stop, Cooper."

I moaned louder.

"Keep going. Keep fucking me."

I moaned louder, "Ohhh, Ohhh I'm getting close."

"That's it. Make that cock explode in me. Come inside me, Cooper."

I pushed harder. "Ohhh, I'm almost there."

"That's it babe, don't stop."

"Oh yes! Mitchell. Mitchell." I was panting. "Mitchell. Mitchell!!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yes!" Then I screamed as if seeing a murder. A beautiful, sex-filled, orgasm-centered, masculine, gasping murder.

I felt my dick pulse, squeezing my semen into bullet streams of power inside my lover. One after another. I kept coming. It was the longest climax I had experienced in weeks. Mitch somehow spread his legs wider, and my body collapsed onto his. We kissed for several minutes. He wrapped his legs around mine.

"Think the neighbors heard?" I smiled, looking into his eyes.

"Definitely. MY neighbors heard."

After a laugh, the towel and a washcloth cleaned us up.

"We're sleeping naked, right?" he asked.

"If we want to do it right, we are."

He chuckled. I blew out the candle.

"Were you and Natalie loud?" he asked.

"Sometimes, a little. Nothing as loud as we were tonight."

"What kinds of things did you say?"

I kissed him on the lips. "Let's not go there. Now shut up and go to sleep."

 

—

 

We were the first at Joe. Emory came in a few minutes after me. He joined me with his coffee. I watched him pour his brown packets of raw sugar into his cup and stir.

"This is a big table," he said.

"We have guests today."

"Oh?"

Before I could explain, Mike and Trent entered the coffee shop. I waved at them, and then they headed to the counter to order.

"Is that who I think it is?" Emory asked.

"Who do you think it is?" I responded.

"Is that Trent Kyriazi?"

"Yes. And his husband Mike."

"Holy shit. How awesome that they are joining us."

"Why is that so awesome?"

"He's a radio personality!" Emory said in a loud whisper.

"And a playwright. But more importantly, he's my friend." I leaned forward. "He's just a regular guy. Don't be too weird."

The handsome couple joined our table a minute later.

"Trent, Mike ... I'd like to introduce you to my friend Emory. You may remember him as the man who spilled coffee down my leg in February."

"Oh, swell. That's a great introduction," Emory said, shaking the hands of both gentlemen. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Thank you," they both acknowledged.

"I'm somewhat of a big fan. Now that I'm fully retired, I try to catch your show each morning as often as I can."

"Thank you. I enjoy my work," Trent said.

"I'm looking forward to your next play."

"Thank you," Trent graciously acknowledged. "Did you see The Brutal Reality?"

Emory felt awkward. "I wanted to. By the time I heard about it, it was sold out. I heard great things though."

Trent paused a moment. "Signposts is different, but I think it has a happier ending. It is beginning production and casting. Some songs are being written right now. I have to approve them though. I think next fall will be the debut. But I really don't know."

"I remember the news when it was purchased."

Emory gushed over Trent for a few minutes. Mike and I just looked at each other as if we weren't even at the table.

Laramie entered. I stood to hug him and introduced him to Mike and Trent.

"I believe Lance has spoken about you," Mike noted.

Laramie shrunk into a crumpled ball of aluminum foil. "oh"

"They enjoyed meeting you over the summer."

"I thought he and his husband Jakob were solid fellas. Great guys."

Laramie did have a great time with them prior to his emotional episode. I could tell he was hoping that was what Lance had told them about, not his brother's suicide.

"You'll get to see them again at Friendsgiving very soon," I added. "It's nice that I was able to introduce the two of you to these gentlemen here before the event. Back there..." The group turned toward the counter. "... that's Brad. I've asked him too. And Mitchell."

"The more the merrier," Trent added. "I've heard a lot about you guys through my walks with Cooper. It's nice to put faces to it."

Mitchell returned from the bathroom. The table was full now. He acknowledged Laramie's arrival. The group let me talk for a while. The new house was an appropriate conversation. They listened to what I loved, as well as the minor quibbles. They were pleased that Corey was excited about his own room, in addition to the whole house. Having a guest room, an office and a game room was nice. It wasn't enormous, but I knew it was bigger than what Natalie and I had.

As the conversation was spread among the group, I could sense Trent watching me. He took notice of how often I looked at Laramie in comparison to Mitch. I reached for Mitchell's hand on top of the table and held it.

Mike and Trent spoke of some of the food they intended to serve at Friendsgiving. It sounded good, but, of course, food was secondary. I had only taken Mitch before. Having more friends come with me was going to be nice, not to mention my friendship with Trent and Mike had grown. As we visited, we asked the hosts if there was something we could contribute. Graciously saying that wasn't necessary, I knew the event had grown, so Mike and Trent noted a couple simple things that would prove beneficial: ice, chips, bottled waters.

An incredibly handsome man walked past. Despite the season, his clothing was on the lighter side for 45 degrees, not to mention a size too small. All of us looked. Brad smiled at our group as he approached us. Mitch continued to look at him, then he noticed me watching. Feeling sheepish and awkward, he turned from my glance. I leaned in.

"You can ask him for his number if you want. You aren't tied down to me," I whispered.

"Cooper, please stop," he admonished.

Although I had given Mitchell freedom, it felt good that he was still fighting for "us."

 

—

 

I had run that afternoon. Things turned over in my mind. Mitchell. Derek. The holidays. The Stricker's account. My family. Laramie's kiss. Derek. Mitchell. Derek. FedEx. Laramie. Thanksgiving. Derek. I knew I wasn't in a good place.

I lit a strawberry-scented candle and dimmed the lights. The tea kettle whistled, and I started steeping some hot tea. I stared out the French doors of the back patio. I liked how it turned out. I began mulling over what trees would work well in the backyard.

Minutes later I reclined on our new couch. A cold front had pushed through, and it was notably chillier than during my run. All the conversations I was having inside my head that afternoon invaded my thoughts again. I analyzed all the things in my life. I felt like I was learning to play a new game of cards, but all the other players only spoke Spanish. I recognized the cards I was dealt, but I didn't know what to do. Mentally, I knew I wasn't healthy.

Ten minutes later, I put my cup in the sink.

"Hi, babe," Mitchell answered. "What's up? I just saw you this morning."

"Mitch, I – I – I don't think ... that – that I'm okay. I'm no better off trying to figure out things. For me, for you, for us, I think I'll see your friend. The therapist guy. Can you send me his contact information?"

"Logan? Sure. Sure. I really think he can help you, Cooper. I'm glad you're trying. I'll email it when I get to my desk in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, baby. Thanks for calling. Are you okay right now? Need to talk?"

"No. That's all I wanted. Thanks. See you tomorrow. Good night."

 

—

 

"Thanks for fitting me in. It's nice to meet you .. uh ... uh Dr. Horwood. Mitch speaks well of you."

"Nice to meet you, too, Cooper. He says great things about you as well. Please, please. Sit."

I had slipped out of work 40 minutes early to be Dr. Horwood's last appointment. It wasn't too far from the center where we held the AA meetings. I just decided to treat myself to dinner out in-between.

"Tell me why you're here, Cooper."

"Well." I had to pause to figure out how to phrase my doubts, my inability to get past Derek, my lack of confidence in the gay world. Jeez, we could be tied up for years. "Well, Dr. uh ... uh ... am I supposed to call you Dr. Horwood? I'm sorry. I'm not sure what the professional thing to do is."

He smiled. "What would make you the most comfortable? Would Logan be better?"

"I think. Saying the word doctor makes it sound like something is wrong with me, like I'm sick, you know?" He smiled at my comment. "Am I sick??!"

"Just because you want to be better, doesn't mean you are sick or that something is wrong with you. Sometimes things in life just throw us off course."

That made me feel better. A little.

"Well, I'm not sure how to start. I don't know what all Mitchell told you."

"Don't worry about Mitchell. I'm here to help you. Let's start with telling me a little about you."

A "little" turned into 15 minutes telling him about my religious upbringing, my marriage, my acceptance that I was gay. I let him know I felt horrible about what I did to Natalie. I told him how much I loved my son. He took a few notes, but basically, he gave me his attention. I wasn't used to really being the center of conversation — talking about my life — for such a long period of time. It was both awkward and contemplative at the same time.

"And you and Mitch — how did you two start while you were married?"

"Well, I guess you know that much then. I was drinking heavily for several months at that point. That last year of my marriage I knew I was gay. I knew I was living a total lie. I thought drinking would either push it away or make me forget, but ... neither happened. It was just one more problem that developed."

Logan jotted some words on a pad.

"I'm not sure, actually. I mean Mitch had worked there for more than a year at that point. I had seen him in meetings here or there. I think I noticed he had grown a beard and..."

"He can never make up his mind," Logan said. "He doesn't think it fits him, and then he'll shave it and then grow it again like eight months later. Oops. I'm sorry for interrupting."

"But that's it. He had grown it and I thought it was sexy. I guess I always thought he was pretty attractive, but with the beard ... I guess he caught me staring. For a few weeks when we saw each other ... there was a glance here, a smile there, a lingering look too long. I found myself trying ... you know, making an effort ... to cross paths with him. We were in a staff meeting one day. We both stood next to each other. His elbow bumped mine, and then ... our arms just lingered pressed against each other. Soon we were flirting a bit. Then kissing. By the time it became ... sexual ..." I paused. "Is that too much to say? I don't know what I can or can't say here."

Logan smiled. "Cooper, it is safe to say anything here. It's just between us."

"By the time I started exploring ... you know, taking it to a sexual level, I knew my marriage needed to end. I was lying to Natalie. When Mitch and I started our ... relationship, tryst ... I had been in AA for two or three weeks, I think. I'm not exactly sure. It's all a bit of a blur. When ... when I finally came clean to Nat and told her I was gay, Mitchell and I were ... well, I guess we were a couple. I'm not sure if that's the right term. We seemed to be falling for each other, but I was completely hiding it. Once Natalie and I split, Mitch helped me get set up on my own. Despite my broken marriage and my alcoholism, he stuck with me. Had he broken it off, I might have started drinking again."

"I hear the program is more effective if people become independent and sober before attempting a relationship."

"Right. And that's probably true, but we were in it already and it was getting heavier."

"You haven't had a drink since?"

"One night. I caught Mitchell kissing a coworker. I had a relapse. Then I saw a picture of Corey, and it grounded me. I remembered shoving him one night I was drunk. I try to keep Corey as my rock."

Logan jotted a couple more notes.

"You forgave him in that instance, correct?"

"Yeah. I guess. We worked through it. For a year we were fantastic. We had moved in together. We were just about to the point to where we were going to get a house. He loved Corey. Corey loved him. We were a family. And then ... then ..."

"And then you caught him cheating."

"You know, huh?"

"Mitchell and I are college friends. We talk about once a month probably. Occasionally we will meet, but it's usually just a phone call. He was rather distraught about the consequences of his actions."

"Yeah. He was upset. But I – I – I ... was completely destroyed. My life was upside down in a blink. I so wanted to drink that day." My eyes glazed over, and I stopped talking. I became transfixed at the sheer nothingness in the center of the room. It was if the ether had me hypnotized. Snapping back, I continued. "But I didn't. I was so grateful I didn't relapse. It could have been bad. I just kept Corey front and center."

"This was close to a year ago. Why are you seeing me now?"

For the remainder of our session, I told him about seeing Derek and the walls I had built up.

"I love him, but ... but ... but I'm not sure how I can ever get over this. Get around this."

"He cheated on you. Do you know why you still love him?"

I thought. "I just do. I knew nothing about being gay. He was a link to the gay world."

"The gay world?"

"I was a Baptist kid that knew nothing. At 36, I was pretty much a gay virgin. The sex, the culture, the background ... Mitch was my only connection to it. Without him, I felt adrift. I didn't know how to react ... how to live. It took me a month to feel even brave enough to enter a gay coffeeshop on my own. Mitch was my lighthouse, my bridge. I was helpless."

"Let's stop there. First, Cooper, you aren't helpless. You have shared a lot about yourself. I appreciate that. With some patients, it takes weeks to get to that point. I appreciate your trust."

We shook hands. I confirmed an appointment for next week.

 

—

 

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"I finally admitted I needed help. For me to make things right with Mitch, I knew I was going to have to see someone to help me get my head around it. It was a little scary. But ... just being able to talk about it specifically ... I think was helpful. I've been able to mention things to friends, but they don't want to be put into a position to advise me what to do. They care, but they aren't trained in this kind of thing. I know a counselor won't fix it overnight, but I hope it doesn't take a long, long time. I'm not sure how healthy this is for me to continue wrestling with thoughts and feelings and doubts.

"But accepting help I think is a good thing. Thank you."

The group clapped.

A man I hadn't seen before walked to the front. He was built!

"Hi, I'm Rex. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Rex," the group replied.

"I've made it three weeks without a drink. Two months ago I would have thought that impossible. When I turned 30, I ... I kind of gave up. I was still alone, so I started drinking more. And more. And more. You see, I've wanted to fall in love with ... with anybody since I graduated college. And ... and it's never happened. Turning the big 3 – 0 with nothing on the horizon. My enjoyment of a drink here or there became nightly. Then several nightly.

"I'm very committed to working out at least an hour a day. A rigorous workout."

Rex was ripped. His shirt sleeves could barely contain his arms. His body looked like Duane Johnson's.

"I was on the football team in college. I've held a good build for my adult life. I think I dress nice. I kept working out thinking a woman might notice me. When I see my body in the mirror, I think I've done a good job. Then I look myself in the eyes. And I know. I know I'm not handsome. Nice body. If I can be so blunt, I'm not too bad `down there' either. But year after year I see it. Women will see my body and come up to me, but when they see my face, they smile and move on. I know I'm not handsome. Of all the things in my control, that's not one of them. Finally, I tried to bury my disappointment in alcohol. I worked out harder to make sure I kept the pounds off. But when I saw that I had put on five pounds even after working out, I stared into my garbage can. Full of bottles. I knew I had a problem. Drinking wasn't my solution. So hard as it was, I threw it all out. Whenever I feel like drinking, I run. Or do jumping jacks in the house if it's late."

I looked at Rex. He was so hard on himself. But he wasn't too far off. His face wasn't really that attractive. His hair was fine, but his nose had a peculiar shape. There was a discoloration to his cheek. An indentation to the right of his eye seemed like it didn't belong. He just didn't have attractive facial features. I immediately felt pity for him. I've been told all my life that I'm good looking. I'm pretty content with my appearance. Other than my dick, that is. I could sympathize for Rex, but I could not relate to him in any way. What pain that must feel like. And what a crappy world we lived in that makes people feel this way.

"So, they recommend newcomers to the program not date. Get sober first. And, you know, I'm going to do just that. I'm not going to worry about meeting the right one. Or anyone. For a while, I'm just going to try to like me. If I can't, how can I expect someone else to, you know? Maybe it will happen one day; maybe it won't.

"I've never told anyone any of this. I have never had enough courage. Pride was always in the way. Thank you for listening."

The group clapped. Rex returned to his seat and hung his head.

"Hi, I'm Ophelia. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Ophelia," the group replied.

"We decided last weekend that both my family and my husband's family will meet at our house for Thanksgiving. Both families. We haven't done that in about eight years. Certainly not since I became an alcoholic. It's taken a few years for his family to even acknowledge me again. We're all in a good place now. So, I'm thrilled. It's the best news I've had in a long time.

"Thank you."

The group clapped.

When the meeting was over, there was still half a pot of coffee. Instead of going out, O and I decided to just finish it off. I asked Rex if he would like some company. I think he felt it was nice to be asked. We each poured ourselves a cup and then cleaned the area. The room wouldn't be needed for another 45 minutes. We put away all the chairs except for our three.

"Cooper, I'm glad you are seeing someone to help you with your struggles," Ophelia said.

"Thanks. It's a bit odd, but I think it could help. If not, I don't know what will make things better, other than a time machine."

"I don't mean to pry..." Rex said.

I gave him a two-minute synopsis of my relationship with Mitch and how I was struggling with fixing it.

"Man, I wouldn't have guessed you to be gay. Don't take that the wrong way. You're everything I wish I could be. I am surprised that you aren't using your looks on women."

Ophelia shifted awkwardly in her seat.

"I was married for a while. It ... it was a lie. I drank to push the truth away."

"Wow. You've had a lot on your plate."

"Kind of. I was good for a while, but even so, I'm also thankful for what I have."

"You are very handsome too. I wish I had your looks."

"I wish I had your body. And ... I don't mean that in a ... a flirty way."

"I'll take the compliment." He smiled.

"Don't take the artificiality of dating too much to heart," Ophelia told Rex. "Someone will see the true you one day. You'll be ready. It's ... it's hard to force it."

We talked for about ten more minutes, then Rex shook our hands and thanked us for our time.

 

—

 

Mitch and I enjoyed lunch together. Before returning to our offices, we kissed. When things were good, they were really good. Hopefully, my sessions with Logan would help me get rid of my doubts.

One thing in my life that was certainly on track was work. In this past year, a promotion and a few bonuses on major accounts put things in a comfortable state. I wasn't rich by any means, but I could easily handle house payments with my own salary. If Corey or I needed something, I could sensibly get it. I wasn't planning on buying a Porsche or anything foolish, but I was in a much better situation than when I left Natalie, or even when Mitch and I split and I had to get the single bedroom apartment to begin with.

It was 4 o'clock and I felt I had my work for the day accomplished. Our firm was not on a time clock by typical standards, but there was an implied level of obligation to be available in the building. In years past, I would have poured myself a drink. I treated myself to a Dr. Pepper.

As the carbonated gurgle of fizz bubbles subsided in my glass, I pulled out my phone and texted Laramie.

"Hi buddy. How did the night finish up at Black Stallion the other night?"

I wondered if he did get introduced to someone by his friends. If they happened to hit it off, I admitted to myself that it could simplify life a lot.

He didn't respond.

 

—

 

It was just before 8. I heard my phone signal a tone that a text came in.

"Sorry. Hard day at work. Just saw this on my phone."
"It was okay."

Hmm. I couldn't tell what that meant. Was he hesitant to tell me he enjoyed being with someone else? Was it no big deal? Was the guy a jerk? A Romeo? A stud? Rich? Asian? Had three thumbs? I had nothing to go on.

Oh well. It wasn't really my business. If it worked out for him, good. It would certainly uncomplicate things in one small area. Laramie was a distraction from what I really needed to focus on: Mitchell.

Another text came in.

"Just showered. Going to grab a burger. Want to join?"

I had eaten.

"Just put my dinner dishes in the washer. I can come if you need company."

I had nothing pressing, but there were always things to fine tune with the new house.

"Nah. No biggie. I'm fine."

I called. Laramie answered.

"When someone says they're fine, that usually means something is up. Anything wrong?"

"No. I didn't imply that. I meant I would be okay on my own. I'm used to that. No worries."

"Okay. But I wouldn't have minded if you wanted company."

"I always enjoy your company, but that would be needless since you've eaten. Plus, you joined me the other night. C.J. liked you."

"Your friends were nice. How late did you all stay?"

"Well, I bailed probably a little before midnight. Which was too late. The next day at work was sort of not my A game. Who knows how late they stayed."

"Ah. Did you continue to dance."

"Yeah. Some. Another friend of theirs joined us."

"I see."

"I kind of think it was a setup. They hadn't mentioned him when they invited me."

"Oh? How was he?" I said innocently.

`Um. Okay. Just a guy. I could smell smoke on him. It reminded me of my dad. No sparks there." He chuckled.

"Oh well. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"He wasn't you."

I'm not sure if I was supposed to hear that mumble or not, but I did.

"I enjoyed myself. It was nice of you to ask. I'm not sure I see myself doing it on my own, but it was fun."

"Good. Will I see you Sunday?"

"At Joe? If Corey wants to."

 

—

 

I picked up Corey at school. He didn't seem to mind hanging about the campus for either Natalie or me to get off. At 14, we felt fairly comfortable letting him stay. He and a few choir friends chilled out. I'm glad he had good friends.

"Mitch is staying with us this weekend," I said.

"Great."

"He's picking up pizza right now. Is pepperoni fine?"

"Are there mushrooms on the whole thing?"

"Only my half. Your half has broccoli."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. I think Mitchell wants hamburger on the other side."

"That's fine. Sounds good."

As the empty and grease-stained pizza box was stood next to the trash, I noticed how much more Corey was eating nowadays. He was growing. He was due a growth spurt, so it could possibly be on the horizon.

I wasn't sure if I thought it was a good idea, but Mitchell wanted to teach Corey how to play poker. I didn't have anything against it from a moral standpoint, but a parent always wonders when you introduce children to an adult vice — alcohol, gambling, cuss words, R-rated movies — was it a smart move? I admitted they can't be innocent souls forever, but still ... the thought of Corey throwing down big wads of money on the table in the years ahead made me cringe. As did me thinking of him smoking pot, getting drunk or being naked with ... ANYbody. I think above all that was me picturing him behind the wheel of a car.

Forty minutes into it, Corey didn't have to look at the chart of what hand beat what anymore. He picked up on that pretty well. Once Corey got the idea of one game, Mitchell taught him a variation of it. Mitchell had about half the Skittles, and Corey about a third. My pile was the smallest.

Finally, I had a killer hand. I wasn't good at bluffing, but I did well at raising the pot as far as I could. I got a nice sugary windfall with that.

When all was said and done, Corey did fairly well for himself. He played conservatively, but Mitchell always had the biggest pot of Skittles.

I loved watching the two of them. Corey was having a ball. Once the news came on, we called it quits. The local news covered Friday night football, so Corey was interested in that, a little at least. He was paying attention to the high school he would enter next year. For the first time, I thought about how nice it would be if he could be at the school where Mike taught. Sadly, the zones didn't work out that way.

Can I stay up and play video games?" he asked me when we hugged good night.

"Midnight is the cutoff, okay?"

"Okay."

"Plus, some of them get loud. Even though you are now upstairs, put on the headphones, okay?"

"Fine. That's fine."

 

—

 

"Yes. Oh, yeah. Ungh! Mitchell! Ungh! UNGH!!"

I was coming deep in his ass. My arms squeezed him tight below his chest. Once the last drops of cum fired from my erection, the full weight of my body crashed onto his back.

"Stay in me, Cooper."

We melded into one. My cock continued to pulse inside him with phantom ejaculations. A minute later, my erection had retreated, and I pulled out. I wiped it with a warm washcloth in the bathroom. Upon my return to the bed, Mitchell was now on his back. His cock looked as glorious as ever.

For several minutes, I slurped loudly on his flesh. He softly moaned.

"You've got 30 more minutes before he takes off the headphones. You can be louder," I said.

"What if he goes to the bathroom or something."

"Well, I'm not telling you to yell `FIRE!' or anything. But enjoy yourself."

He did. It was a wonderful blowjob if I was able to compliment myself. His erection was good, but I could feel it stiffening further. Mitchell was close.

"Come on my face," I said, taking my mouth of his cock.

"Whaaaattt?!!"

"I want you to."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Will you do it?"

We scrambled in our positions. Now on my back, I watched my lover straddle my chest. His fist pounded his bright, red phallus. It was inches from my face. He leaned a bit forward, and the tip of my tongue licked pre-cum from his rod.

I knew Mitch's mannerisms. His body's language communicated his orgasm was rising.

"That's it, babe," I said. "Shoot it on me."

Mitch really didn't shoot. Not like me. His cum came out more in silent gurgles. I inhaled the musk of his crotch right above me. Slightly sweaty, 100 percent masculine. I breathed in his passion.

"I'm coming!" he whispered loudly.

For the first time in my life, I felt cum hit my face. For Mitchell, it was fairly good distance. As the further spasms dripped, he thrust his hips forward to aim it at my mouth and neck. When he was spent, he touched the end of his cock to my lips. I devoured the flesh, almost all of it, bringing in some cum with it. I held it captive for more than a minute, not letting him remove it. My hands gripped on his butt cheeks to let me suckle his dick as I felt its firmness decrease. My tongue swirled and swam all over the length of his manhood.

He pulled his body away and grabbed the washcloth to clean my face. I smiled.

Moving his body to position next to mine, one of his arms moved across my chest.

"Where did that come from? Did Logan tell you to do that?"

I laughed. "Good lord, no. I've only seen him one time. We wouldn't have talked about anything like that."

"How did it go?" he asked, putting his head on my shoulder.

"Good, I guess. I felt comfortable talking to him. He's nice."

"What did you talk about?"

"Well. I really think I should keep that between him and me."

"I suppose. I hope it helps." He kissed me. "I'm glad you're seeing him. I hope it's a good thing. Thanks for doing it for us."

Was I? I guessed so. It was more for me to get past my walls, my demons, my roadblocks. I supposed that would make things better for us.

 

—

 

Brad didn't want to let go of Corey as they hugged. I was no longer worried about Corey being in the pseudo-gay environment of Joe, but it still struck me curious as this young teen was so taken with a gay coffee barista.

"I swear you've grown an inch in the last week," Brad told him. "Next week you're going to have a moustache."

Following taking our order at the counter, Brad shooed us to a table, informing us that he would deliver our beverages.

Emory had a large table for us. He shook all our hands. Had it just been me, he probably would have stood for a hug.

"I'm excited for this Saturday," he said.

"Friendsgiving? I know. It should be great. Want to ride with us or drive on your own?"

"If you're willing, I'll ride with you."

"That probably will help with the parking situation."

I provided Emory with our new address and the time we wanted to leave on Saturday.

Brad delivered our coffees.

Laramie walked in and walked to our table. He ran his hand through Corey's hair to muss it all up. My son giggled.

"Cappuccino," Laramie said to Brad and flipped him a ten. "Cinnamon roll?" Laramie nodded.

I saw Corey crane his neck toward the flavor pumps. He looked at me, and I nodded. "Go ahead."

As he walked over, I softly told the others, "I know Saturday is about friends, but I just wanted to tell you all now how much I appreciate how well you have treated my son. It means so much to me. I had been worried about what the divorce — and, duh, finding out your dad is gay — would do to him. You guys have really made him see ... us ... as typical people. Thank you so much."

"Speak for yourself. Who wants to be typical?" Emory joked.

"I meant that in a `non-scary' kind of way."

"He's great," said Laramie. "You've done a great job raising him."

"Natalie deserves most of the credit. I'm kind of proud of who I am with him right now. I think I've been a good dad, but ... whoo, those alcohol years ... I'm very ashamed of those."

"He seems to have moved past those," said Emory. "I can tell he loves being with you."

I smiled at my friends. They had been a great support group. I grabbed Mitch's hand.

Corey returned and told me he had chosen French Vanilla.

"You never put anything in yours, do you, Dad?"

"On occasion. I learned to like it black. I will every now and then."

He tasted his, then tasted mine. I could tell he was comparing. I felt he liked his best.

Brad brought Laramie his items.

"What smells good?" Corey asked him.

"Well, kiddo," Brad said, leaning over Corey. "Carlos has just pulled cherry and strawberry cheesecake Danishes from the oven."

"Bring him one of each," Laramie said, handing him another ten, plus a couple extra bucks.

"Hey. He doesn't need that much," I said.

"Bring extra forks," Corey said. Laramie winked at him.

For an hour, we all visited and had great conversation. Corey acted very adult but not pretentious. As we went to our cars, all of us hugged and mentioned we would be looking forward to Friendsgiving over the weekend.

 

—

 

Natalie called me Tuesday night. "What have you done?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When I asked Corey to start making a Christmas list for relatives, the first thing he asked for was a coffee maker."

I laughed out loud.

 

—

 

"What made you fall in love with Mitchell?" Logan asked.

"Well, I think he is good looking, so that's a start; it's what attracted me to him at least. But the more we spent time with each other, the more fun I had. Being gay was fun. For my whole life, I had been led to believe the gay lifestyle was seedy and sinful and filthy ... but ... I enjoyed it with Mitch. Not just the sex part, I – I – I just felt like ... me. You know? It was like I wasn't lying anymore."

Logan nodded and jotted a note down.

"Can I be honest?" I asked.

"That's the point," he replied.

"Sex was better with him." Logan smiled. "I mean, it was ... fine ... with Natalie. I enjoyed it. It was obviously enough for me to get ... well, we had a child. But sex with Mitch was ... like ... like a Broadway show." Logan looked confused. "Sex with Natalie was enjoyable, but when I was with Mitch it was a wow." He nodded.

"Can I ask if those are the only two people you have slept with?"

"Yes." I lied. I wasn't counting Emory. That was its own thing. Like an alternate universe. Then I felt like a hypocrite. Why was I entitled to the multiverse, but Mitch wasn't? I defended my stance that I never would have agreed to Emory's proposal if Mitch and I were in a committed relationship. I somehow was still allowing myself special circumstances.

"Cooper?"

"Oh. Sorry. I – I just liked who I was with Mitchell more than I did with Natalie."

"Do you feel he brought out the best in you?"

"More like he brought out the truth."

"So. He cheated on you, and you guys split. Why go back?"

I was quiet a moment. "Because I still loved him."

"Even though he cheated."

"Even though I saw him fuck someone else." I felt embarrassed that I cussed in front of a doctor.

"Do you feel you could experience your truth with anyone else?"

"To be honest, probably not. Mitch was so kind with me being such a ... gay newbie when we started. How many people are willing to do that? Who would want someone like me when they can have a person who had experience?"

"Cooper, you've dated one man. There certainly will be other people who would be interested."

Actually, since I had all my fears materialize last winter, Emory and Laramie had both developed feelings for me. I slept with one and have kissed the other. I felt like a major hypocrite.

"Maybe."

"Do you have any reason to believe that Mitch has cheated again?"

"No. Derek walked into his office, but he wasn't expecting him. Then he accidentally called me Derek on Halloween..."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. It was a blunder. Mitch said he hadn't been with Derek since we started seeing each other."

"And you believe him?"

"I do. The sad part is all it takes is for me to see a FedEx truck to retreat back into a hole." Logan looked confused. "Derek worked for FedEx."

"So. How long do you think that will go on?"

"I have no idea! That's why I'm here. It's just ... just ... a WALL I can't get past. I want to forgive Mitch. But those triggers bring me right back to the moment I walked in on ... them."

"So maybe forgiving and forgetting isn't the problem. Do you think you are hanging on to the pain for any reason?"

"No. I can't see what good that would do."

"Let's try to see things like Mitchell does. How do you think he feels?"

"About ...?"

"About everything."

"Well, as far as Derek goes, he has clearly conveyed he regrets it. All of it. He says it was all a terrible mistake."

"And do you believe him?"

"I ... I don't know. I do believe he loves me. He's been faithful since we started seeing each other. I feel it is now more my issue than his. He wants to make it work."

"And so now he is in this terrarium you've created where he is tiptoeing through it, afraid to bend even a blade of grass."

"I wouldn't say I have come off that harshly. We've been good together, but ... yeah. He has tarnished my level of trust. Again. I feel this is my issue now."

"Do you think of yourself as fair?"

"I don't know if it is fair or unfair more than just how I feel." I paused. "I knew that it was hard for him to know what to do. He still wants to make us work, but ... it was hard for me to ... well, I can't get over or around the wall. Finally, whether I am fair or not, I didn't think it was fair for him to ... as you say, tiptoe around me. I never wanted him to be on eggshells while we reconciled." I contemplated sharing my recent move. "I gave him permission to see whoever he wanted. We're still dating. Sex is still great, but ... I've let him out of any commitment. If I'm a mess, he doesn't deserve that."

"Really?"

"Yes. He can date whoever he wants."

"And do you think he is?"

"No. I think he is staying loyal to me."

"I see. Good. And does that mean anything to you?"

"I love him. So, yes, it does."

"And does your release from commitment extend to you as well?"

"I didn't tell Mitch that so I could date other people."

"Okay. So no one else is in your picture."

I went silent. My brain could not form an answer. I wanted to say there was no one else I was interested in. But I couldn't say the words. I had kissed Laramie more than once. It was a flirtatious attraction, but I knew I was in love with Mitchell. Laramie and I were just good friends. I just let it go too far. That's all that was. And just that made me feel more like Captain Hypocrite.

"Cooper?"

Logan had broken my trance. "I'm ... I'm not ... seeing anyone else."

"Why did that sound like you were trying to convince yourself?" Do you have feelings for someone other than Mitch?"

"No. Yeah. No. I don't know."

"Hmmm." He jotted notes. "This sounds worth exploring, but it also sounds too big to delve into with just a few minutes remaining. Let's stop there."

"okay." I didn't know why, but I felt exposed.

"Our offices will be closed next week. I do hope you have a great Thanksgiving, and I'll see you after the holiday."

We shook hands before I exited.

 

—

 

Mitch, Laramie and Emory all met at my house. I gave a tour for Emory before we headed to Mike and Trent's place. He thought it was beautiful. I noted I needed to get a few more works of art for the wall since the house was much bigger than the apartment.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to Mike and Trent's house. I was glad we carpooled as the street was already fairly full. There was never a set start and end time, but I never wanted to be the first to arrive. Clearly, we were not.

We found Mike first. He was near the door. I introduced Laramie. He knew everyone else. Emory and Laramie had never been to the house. Mike gave them a quick tour. Those at the event were fairly divided between indoors and outdoors. Upper 40s for November wasn't out of the norm, but it was a bit cool for some people. Because it was sunny and there was no wind, many people enjoyed the afternoon air in our hosts' backyard. I could tell Jakob's touch had accented the tables. I had not seen him or Lance.

A text came in.

"I am so sorry not to be there this year. How is it?"

It was from Ophelia. She had family obligations this year.

"We haven't been here long, but it looks nice."

"Give my best to the hosts. Surely Lance and Jakob will be there. Give them huge hugs from me."

"Will do. Have a great weekend. I am thankful for your friendship, O."

She replied with a heart emoji.

Before I could even search out Lance and Jakob, I was almost tackled. Lance squeezed me from behind. As I turned, he placed a big smooch on my cheek. I giggled. We embraced with a firm hold. He started to pull away, and I grabbed him again.

"This one's from Ophelia."

"I'm so bummed she can't come."

"She is too. But sends her love." Lance was alone. "Where's Jakob?"

"I honestly have no idea. I think he works more than socializes at this thing. But he loves it. Try the kitchen."

Before stepping away, Emory and Laramie joined me outside. I introduced Emory to Lance. They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you. Larry, I'm so glad to see you again."

I saw Laramie smile. He had felt so awkward with his emotional episode at Lance's and Jakob's house during the summer. I was glad he felt welcome.

Inside, Jakob was adding appetizers to a table and accenting their presentation. When he saw me, he ran to me and kissed me on the lips.

"Cooper! Cooper, Cooper, Cooper. I'm so glad to see you." He squeezed me tight.

"Me too. You look great. Ophelia sends her love."

"Aw. I miss her." He turned to the table. "The artichoke dip is heaven, but I just took these toasted raviolis out of the oven. They're great."

I popped one in my mouth. It was piping hot, so I should have let it cool a moment. I'm sure I looked a bit comical as it scaled the inside of my mouth.

A text came in. It was Brad.

"I assume by all the cars that I am at the right place. Do I just walk in?"

"Yes, that's fine."

A moment later, he was at the door. Mike welcomed him. I knew Brad would know almost nobody. I darted over there to be a familiar face as Mike reintroduced himself, having only talked to Mike once at Joe. Brad smiled but looked terribly awkward.

"Hi! Brad, I'm glad you could come. Mike, Brad is one of the nicest people I know. I'm so glad to have met him this year. He's a good friend."

A smile slightly formed on Brad's mouth. I took him to the backyard. He would know people there. Once we were outside, Trent had Amadeus visiting with people. He was excited, but thankfully he was still in control. He was a great dog, as long as people were giving him attention.

Although a bit concerned about making sure my friends had a good time, I didn't need to worry much. Emory was enthralled being at the home of his local idol. Mitch had met enough of them either in the previous two years or at Lance's and Jakob's wedding. People mingled well. It wasn't a gay gathering; Mike invited teachers from his school, and Trent had people from the station. It wasn't an alcoholic event; our small group was just a portion of attendees. It was a friendship thing.

I saw Dr. Owens. I remembered him from Lance and Jakob's wedding. I went over to say hello.

The temperature was dropping. Most people moved inside before the sun had set. The food tables never seemed to get empty. Trent, Mike and Jakob always seemed to be bringing out something new. Our hosts had a great selection of nonalcoholic offerings. I had never seen my friends laugh so much.

Trent gathered us near the piano. As in the past, we lit a candle for Tyler. For those new to the event, Trent explained who Tyler was, and that he was the reason the event started. He then read a poem about friendship. There were several one-armed hugs and hands on shoulders. Mitch wrapped his arms around me as he stood behind me. We all felt great.

As he had in the past, Trent had written a song. The intro to the song was a slow melody. Trent's voice joined in beautifully:

 

"The sun shines to the horizon
My path stretches farther than I can see
I make choices along the way
But I know some things are chosen for me

Lightning crashes in our hearts
At times we feel like we're on our own
People are with me along the way
I know I know that I'm never alone

You're the foundation that keeps me on the ground
You are the lifeguard that watches the beach
When I'm lost you make sure that I'm found
You are the ladder that allows me to reach

You are my friend

New friends, old friends join our road
We can never know how long they'll stay
How they touch us they may never know
But true friends will never really drift away

You're the foundation that keeps me on the ground
You are the lifeguard that watches the beach
When I'm lost you make sure that I'm found
You are the ladder that allows me to reach

You are my friend

We all take, we all receive
Gifts are given to us all
Friends are gifts, I truly believe
Friends are the greatest gifts of all

You're the foundation that keeps me on the ground
You are the lifeguard that watches the beach
When I'm lost you make sure that I'm found
You are the ladder that allows me to reach

You are my friend

You are my friend."

 

We all applauded. He then burst into "Thank You for Being a Friend," the song written by Andrew Gold and released in 1978, but it was made much more famous as being the theme song to The Golden Girls. Everyone joined in. Suddenly, forty voices filled the room. At the end of the song, everyone cheered. Brad cheered the loudest.

Jakob and Mike had two kinds of champagne ready, so that those in AA would have something nonalcoholic to enjoy as well.

Trent made a toast: "It would be easy to just make a toast to friendship, but today I wish to look at it from a different angle. You are here because someone loves you. You are here because you make someone's life better. You are here because you mean something. You are something wonderful. You are a gift. So, as friends gather to celebrate our friendship with each other, I'd like to make a toast to each of you and how awesome you are. To you!"

"To ME!" the crowd cheered and smiled and laughed, as they raised their glasses.

I kissed Mitchell. And then Emory. And then Laramie. And Lance.

Brad had stepped over to the side of the room.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking up to him.

"Very much so," he said earnestly, looking into my eyes.

"I've .. I've never been to anything like this. I've been to parties — some that weren't a great decision — but..." Brad stopped.

He set down his drink. He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me.

"You have no idea what you have done for me today."

"Me?"

"I don't know if I can explain it. I mean, I have friends. Quite a few. I have fun with them. I enjoy their company. But this was a different kind of friendship. Cooper, today you made me feel like I mattered by being here." He looked me in the eyes. "Thank you. Thank you for being my friend."

We looked at each other in the eyes and leaned in for a simple kiss. We hugged again.

"I'm very glad you are in my life," I softly said into Brad's ear.

He squeezed me tighter and gave me a big smooch on the cheek.

He let me go and motioned me back over to Mitch.

"He's fun," Trent said to me.

"Brad's awesome. He's really good with Corey too. I was worried about bringing Corey into ... gay things. The people, the culture. Brad took an instant liking to him. In that regard, I'm so much better than I was last winter."

"That regard ..." Trent started. "Are things good with Mitch?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, yes, we're ... fine. I guess. I mean, we are still having great sex and everything."

I was astonished I could say something so bold. For Lance, it would have been a kindergarten comment.

"Is there a `but' coming?"

"I'm seeing a therapist to kind of work through obstacles I feel are in my way."

"Oh. Well, I hope it helps."

Trent instantly felt awkward. I couldn't blame him for not knowing what to say. He shifted his weight.

"You know, Laramie is handsome. He's kind of hot," he said, trying to change the subject.

"You should see him in a cowboy hat. Yum."

Trent turned from Laramie to look at me.

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"We're ... we're just friends. That's all."

"Oh?" Again, the eyebrow went up. "Sounds like we need to take a run next week. How about the day after Thanksgiving?"

I agreed. I had a therapist but talking to a friend could be a good idea too.

Thirty minutes later, Brad came up to me and grabbed my hands. "Thank you again for inviting me, Cooper. I had a really great time."

"Thank you for coming, my friend."

We hugged, and Brad said his goodbyes to the rest of our coffee group. He waved to a few friends he had made.

Our carpool stayed until the group had dwindled down to about a dozen. We offered to help Mike and Trent clean up, but they refused.

My final moments were with Lance and Jakob.

"Cooper, we'd like to come visit you at Christmas."

"I'd love that. I should have a dinner party. And then the two of you could stay the night for a longer visit."

"We'd love that," Jakob said. "We miss you so much."

"I'm sure you have new friends in Von."

"We do. But no one can replace the relationships we had in our group. We love you, Cooper."

"Thank you. And I you. I will be sure to send your regards to the group. I'm sure Richard would like to hear about how well you are doing."

Eventually we were in the car.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Emory said.

The rest of us laughed. "Well, I'm glad you had a good time. I'm glad all of you came."

"Agreed," they all said. "It was really nice."

"I can't believe I was in Trent Kyriazi's house," Emory said. "And he acted just like a normal guy."

"Because he is," I said.

Mitch grabbed my hand. Our fingers interlocked. I smiled at him. As my gaze returned to the road ahead, my eyes glanced into the rear view mirror. Laramie was looking out the window. I thought he looked beautiful. And hot.

 

—

 

"I'm surprisingly tired," I said as I moved to my side of the bed.

"Me too, but in a good way. Maybe it was all the standing at Mike and Trent's place."

"How many drinks did you have?"

"Um ... with the toast ... three? Four?" I turned the light out. Mitchell pulled me close. "Does that bother you?"

"No. Not at all. I remember in my drinking days that I just had no energy after a few drinks."

"Hm. I don't think that's it, necessarily. I think it is the change of the seasons. Ever since daylight saving time ended, my mind gets weird." I chuckled. After kissing me on the lips, he said, "I'm glad it didn't bother you. I wouldn't do it if it did. I just knew I didn't have to drive."

Mitchell had a T-shirt on with his briefs. I only had on boxers. His hand roamed over my chest. I loved his touch. Eventually it slid down under my waistband. He groped my cock and balls. I was not hard.

"I'm tired. Is it okay if we don't have sex tonight?"

"Sure."

I reached over to Mitchell's crotch. His briefs held an I-beam.

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I'm fine."

I moved my arm to wrap around his chest. I teased his chest hair a little. "You sure?"

"Mmm. I have an idea."

"Oh?"

"We've been doing things out of the norm lately. This wouldn't require you to put forth any effort."

I laughed out loud. "Do I need to leave the room?"

He returned the laugh. He turned me over onto my stomach and moved his body atop mine. His head leaned to my ear. "Can I come on your back?"

I found it interesting. "Okay."

He reached into the nightstand on his side and grabbed a towel. The lube was on my side. He asked if I would reach for it.

Mitch pulled his T-shirt off. He positioned his body to straddle mine. His hands started rubbing my back, massaging it from my shoulder blades down to the pelvis. I moaned in the physical gesture. "Nice." After two minutes of massage, I could tell he was removing his underwear to be naked above me. His hands gripped my boxers and pulled them down my legs.

"Lift up," he instructed. He moved the towel to stretch below me.

I jumped a bit when I felt a line of lube drip above my ass crack. After squirting some in his hand, I heard the lid snap closed. The sound of him coating his cock was apparent. He wiped his hands.

Leaning down over me again, he pushed his erection above my ass crack and up into the small of my back. He continued rubbing his dick back and forth. It moved lower down into the crevice of my ass, but his intention was not to penetrate me. He just thrust his cock up and down my waist and back. Mitchell moaned as he frotted his slickened manhood up and down my body. A minute or two into it, he began groaning. I was enjoying this new experience, even though it required nothing of me. As he pleasured himself, Mitchell began panting.

That's when it hit me. Even though he had brushed his teeth, the slightest hint of booze coming from his breath and off his skin made me distracted. Did I smell like that when I was drunk? Could Natalie smell it? Corey? My coworkers???

"Ungh!! Ungh!!" Mitchell screamed as he pushed harder in his self-pleasure. Like a carpenter sawing his dick back and forth across my crack and back, Mitchell's moaning was new. He was enjoying this. He leaned down to gently bite my neck.

"Cooper," he whispered. "Ungh! Cooper."

His cock was so hard it felt like a broom handle sliding up and down my crack. He worked his hands under me and gripped my pecs. His waist continued to thrust and push itself along my body. For a few minutes, he let the weight of his body rest on mine as he kept thrusting into my back.

"Cooper, I love you so much."

Then Mitch got really loud. We were alone in the house. He screamed in my ear. "I'm so close, baby. It feels so good!!"

"Come for me, Mitch," I offered.

His chest adhered to mine with the sweat he worked up.

"I'm gonna come."

"Come for me."

"I'm gonna come!"

"Do it."

Mitchell moved up onto stiff arms.

"FUCK! God, I'm coming!!!"

The base of his rod pushed into the end of my crack — hard — and I felt warm liquid land on my back. He screamed in pleasure that borderline sounded like anguish. Soon, his cum was landing in small droplets. The sensation on my skin was fun. His cum had never been there before.

He collapsed on me. Our bodies smeared the cum between our warmed skin. He wriggled his cock into my back. It was slippery and sticky and warm and masculine.

As his breathing returned to normal, all I could think about was the alcohol on his breath as he panted into my neck.

"Love you, Cooper."

 

—

 

Mitch and I joined Emory. I noted that Laramie had to go in to work since he joined everyone for Friendsgiving yesterday.

"Thank you so much for inviting me. I had such a good time," Emory beamed.

All of us got our coffee at the counter. Mitch added pumpkin spice at the flavor counter. Blasphemer.

As Emory stirred sugar into his, he looked at me and smiled. "Can I go next year?"

I laughed, and Mitch joined in.

"Assuming we're all still in this little group, sure." I smiled at his childish enthusiasm. "You didn't do anything crazy to have Trent blackball you, did you?"

"Does he do that?" Emory asked in alarm.

"No. Of course not," I chuckled.

"He and his husband are a beautiful couple."

"Yes, they are," I agreed.

Brad set a blueberry kalachi in front of me. He kissed me on the top of my head. "On the house."

I winked at him.

During conversation, I became aware of Emory having to spend the holiday alone. I sympathized, but he waved it away.

"I already have some traditional meal items in the freezer. It's no big deal."

"Well, I'd much rather spend it with you than my family, but that's a cross I have to bear."

"I'm fine. Don't give it a second thought."

I nodded, but I knew deep down he would miss his old partner, Gene. It reminded me of Richard from AA and how Christmas affected him. Holidays weren't always great.

 

—

 

I took a deep breath and opened the front door.

"Happy Thanksgiving," I called out.

My mother met me with a hug, emerging from the kitchen. I was pleased to see Uncle Randy was there. He was always a shelter in the storm. I hugged him firmly, letting him know how happy I was to see him. We sat down for a few minutes, and I just let him talk about his work. I didn't mind hearing about things at the church. It was easy enough for me to relate to it.

Judith and Wayne were there. They walked past us. Thomas came up, and I encouraged him to call Corey. He was more than happy to do so.

My father was in the garage. I went out to say hello. He had just pulled down some Christmas boxes. Since the weather was turning colder tomorrow, he wanted to get a few of the decorations out in the front yard. I helped him with the boxes of lights. He was too old to get on a ladder to outline the roof's trim, but he and Mom still liked lights in the bushes. Simple but festive.

We both talked about work a bit. He was just a couple of years from retiring. He was delighted to hear about the bonuses and raises I had received. My father was always impressed with money. That was the sign of true success and happiness. It made me realize I didn't call him enough to share such things. Conversations with family always seemed to be a walk across a field with landmines.

He told me a few "don't tell your mother I told you" things about her health. Nothing sounded serious, but he confided the issues concerned her. I told him I would keep it private but appreciated him sharing, as well as to keep me in the loop.

Dad had two-dimensional wooden figures he put out each year. I helped carry them. I commented on how I remembered the very first ones he made when I was in junior high. Those were a tad more primitive, but in the years following, he had done a fine job with these. I think we had snowmen for more than two decades. Santa's sleigh piled with toys was his finest work. The gifts stretched about nine feet tall. Because it was the most susceptible to wind, it had extra bracing. We got all the stakes pounded in.

Curtis and Anita had arrived while we had been working. They didn't come over to us, but they waved to acknowledge our presence.

Dad usually steered clear of my personal life. He held the breakup of my marriage as an embarrassment to the family, although he never voiced that opinion. His body language said enough. When he asked how things were between Mitchell and myself, I was taken aback.

I wished to avoid the cement-mixer love life with Mitch, not to mention my seeking therapy and my flirtations with Laramie.

"Mitchell and I are okay, but I still have to deal with things. His cheating on me created some demons. But ... you know, I'm trying to work through them."

I felt Friendsgiving was a much safer topic, so I shifted the conversation to how much I enjoyed last Saturday.

It was after 4 when we went back inside. The chill was starting to get to me. I thought it was about five degrees cooler than when we started. Mom greeted us both with a mug of hot chocolate.

"Smells good," I said.

"Dinner will be at 6," he firmly confirmed.

Thomas was playing video games in the back room.

"And how are you doing?" Anita asked me with no warmth in her voice.

I kept conversation about work and how well the company was doing. I didn't want to brag much about my promotion and raises.

Surprisingly no one asked about the new house. No one. I pulled out my cell phone and showed some pictures. Mother came out of the kitchen to see. I thought the pictures made the house look really nice.

"It looks a little big for just you and Corey. What all did you put in there?" asked Judith.

I explained there was an office and a game room. Two guest rooms allowed for company, but one of them one day may be converted to a library/study.

The excitement level was flat. Some simple smiles and nods, but no one exhibited any enthusiasm.

I told them about Laramie, explaining him as one of my coffee friends and our initial crash encounter. I pulled up a picture of the shelving he did in the office.

I steered that to talk of Friendsgiving last weekend.

"So, it was like a homosexual alcoholic party?" Anita asked.

"Good lord, no," I answered scornfully. "Trent Kyriazi has hosted it for a few years. I feel kind of honored that I'm invited, but it is a large gathering of people of several occupations to celebrate friendship."

Crickets.

I'm sure they all pictured a gay orgy.

"Isn't that the gay guy on the radio?" Judith asked.

"Trent is a successful radio personality, yes. He has become quite successful at a young age. The Morning Show is hardly about homosexual activity, you know. He's just a regular guy."

"Well, he might be if he weren't gay."

An earthquake began below the soles of my feet and worked its way up to my legs, then my torso, then my shoulders. When my hands formed two fists, Uncle Randy grabbed my arm and pulled me to the door.

"Cooper, I made a mistake. I meant to bring a bag of ice," he said, stuffing a couple of dollars in my hand. "Would you dart down to QT on the corner and grab a bag."

I looked at him startled.

"Just go," he whispered. "Give yourself a break."

I took a deep breath and nodded.

Once at the convenience store, I texted Emory.

"Thanksgiving with my family is going no better than I expected. Is it sad that I am envious of you? I know you are alone, but I'd trade places in a heartbeat."

I walked to the counter and paid for a bag of ice. I heard a text come in. Once I tossed my purchase in the trunk, I checked the phone.

"You'll survive. And don't worry about me. I'm fine."

I called Mitchell. Surprisingly he didn't pick up. I left a voice message to wish his family Happy Thanksgiving.

My thoughts drifted to Laramie. I wondered what he was doing. I missed him.

Mom and Judith had started setting the table. The men were watching football on television. How typical. My mother was insistent that the Cowboys game be turned off once dinner started. Judith went in to tell Thomas he'd have to end his game in ten minutes.

I wanted to avoid any conversation at that point. Corey was always safe. Corey and I had filmed a hello on my phone last weekend. I played it for Anita. They smiled at seeing him and his greeting made for them.

"It's a shame Thomas doesn't get to play with Corey much anymore," Anita said.

"I think Corey misses it to."

"We hardly ever see him at all."

"You've seen we have two guest rooms. Judith and Wayne can bring Thomas any time they would actually like to visit."

"Like Judy would stay in your house," Anita muttered.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing."

Judith returned and stood next to us. The husbands sat nearby but kept their attention on the game.

"It's just a shame that Corey doesn't get to see family anymore," Anita continued to prod.

I stood silent.

"I know," Judith said.

"When you chose that lifestyle, it really changed things for a lot of people," scoffed Anita.

"First, it's not a lifestyle. I'm simply gay. Second, I obviously didn't choose to be this way. I just am. I don't understand how you would think I would just choose this, particularly with our family. These past years have been hard for me too, Anita."

"You say you're gay, but you don't have to act on it. You could live alone and not date."

"And you think you'd be happier with that?"

"Removing the sexual immorality would be better, yes."

"Well, I'm not a big advocate of removing love from my life," I snapped.

"What you should have done is just prayed for God to heal you."

"I'm gay! I don't have cancer. You just can't pray gay away," I argued.

"God is all powerful, Cooper. He can do anything. You didn't spend time in prayer with Him. Don't sell God short."

"So, He will just do whatever you pray about. Surely YOU prayed that I wasn't gay. He must have told you `no.' I don't think God answers prayers that way."

"Don't speak of God like that! Who are you to say what he does and doesn't do? Who are you to say what power he has or doesn't have?!"

"So you really think that if I prayed to God, he would make my true feelings vanish?"

"Yes! I think he would answer your prayers," she glared.

"I prayed for years, Anita!" The husbands finally turned their attention to us. "So you think Judy can just pray to be half a foot taller and — poof — she's taller."

"Now you're just being..."

"And you could pray to God to no longer be flat chested, and He'd just fix all that!"

"How dare you!!!!" Anita screamed.

"How dare YOU!" I yelled back. "You seem to have your hands all over my life and how I need to fix it when you don't have the slightest idea."

"Hey, Cooper. Be careful how you talk to my wife," Curtis said. "Watch yourself or ..."

"Or what!?" I retaliated.

Curtis moved closer to me. I was two inches taller than him and as kids, I never walked away from a scuffle between the two of us.

"I could handle you when we were kids. And I sure can now. And if I can't, one of my boyfriends can! So ... so bring it on." What did I just say?

They all looked at me blankly.

"I have no idea what all this is about," said Mom, entering the living room. "But it ends now. Okay??! Dinner is almost ready. Wash up and come to the dining room."

Very few of us talked during dinner. I said nothing further. It took the tradition of going around the table saying what we were thankful for to force me to speak. I gave thanks for Corey and said I loved him very much. I replayed the hello video so everyone could see it.

I couldn't wait to get away.

"Everything was delicious, Mom," I softly said, as I carried my dishes to the kitchen.

"Thank you, dear."

Uncle Randy followed me. He didn't say anything. We both put our plates in the dishwasher. Then he hugged me and held me. I sniffed a moment but didn't allow myself to cry. He just squeezed me tighter. "I love you just as you are," he said.

"Thank you. I love you too, Uncle Randy. I ... I ... I hate it here."

"Time heals all wounds."

"I doubt it."

After enjoying a slice of pumpkin pie, I hugged my parents and mumbled "Happy Thanksgiving" to everyone and worked my way to the door. As I put on my coat, I didn't even want to look back. I just headed to the car ready for the drive back to Jackson Bend.

"GAHHH!" I screamed, slamming my hands on the steering wheel. "Fuck!"

I then hated myself for cussing. Nothing was really working in my life — except work.

Thirty minutes into the drive I had fought back watery eyes once or twice. I finally called Laramie through the Blue Tooth.

"Hey! Happy Thanksgiving!" he answered.

"Yeah. You too." I paused. "I really don't know what you had planned today."

After a moment of silence, he said, "Not much. All my family is out of state."

"Were you alone?"

"Amos from work invited me to his place for lunch. He and his girlfriend most likely felt sorry for me being alone."

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I would have traded places with you."

"Uh oh. What happened?"

I summarized my feelings in less than two minutes, but I must have sounded incredibly pathetic.

"How long until you're back here? Why don't you stop by?"

"I'm not good company."

"Cooper, what did last Saturday teach us? That's what friends are for."

In less than an hour, I pulled up to Laramie's house. He greeted me at the door with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

I noticed an empty beer can on the coffee table and he was into a second one. He offered me a glass of tea, and I accepted it.

We both sat on the couch, and my body just slumped over into his shoulder with a loud groan.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Can we talk about anything else?" I whined.

He chuckled and put his arm around me. When he did that, it made me momentarily recall my comment about "one of my boyfriends." Why had I said that? I didn't have two boyfriends! That just blurted out. But what made me say it?! I truly didn't have a grasp on my emotions.

"Did you talk to any family today?" I asked.

"My mother. This is one of the few days we talk on the phone."

"Oh, good."

"Yep. We talked for about 90 seconds. Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving. What's the weather there like? How's Dad? Okay, goodbye."

"Man."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"Seven years ago."

"Really?! Not since?"

"No. I can relate to your day, Cooper. Trust me."

I slunk further into his body. My face buried itself into his chest; I let my arm swing around to hold him. Gently, he combed his fingers through my hair. We sat in silence for two minutes without moving.

Football seemed to be over, so Laramie clicked through channels. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had just started on a cable channel showing Christmas specials all day.

"Can we?" I said, just wanting something light.

He chuckled.

As we watched the show, we commented on how there were really cruel aspects to this story. The message of acceptance at the end didn't really make up for the treatment of other people — or animals or snowmen or ... whatever — which was disconcerting to watch as adults. As children, we didn't pick up on those things. Not to mention, everyone was always white. Watching classics a half-century old didn't always hold up under a 21st century lens.

I felt I should head home. At the door, Laramie hugged me again. We looked into each other's eyes. We leaned into kiss. After a first kiss, our lips met for a longer, more tender kiss. I knew I needed to stop doing this. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed us gently apart. His arms were still around me. He leaned to whisper in my ear.

"I'm always here. Friend or more, I'm always here. I love you." He kissed me on the cheek.

Between those words and the kiss, I felt my dick get hard walking to the car. Before I shut the door, a text came in. It was Mitch.

"Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry I missed your call. No matter how late, call me when you get home from your folks. I love you."

 

—

 

I arrived at Trent's and Mike's house Friday afternoon.

Mike was attempting some Black Friday shopping for some electronics. The sun was out, so even though it was 45 degrees, a run would still be nice. Trent's expression looked off.

"How was your Thanksgiving?" I asked.

"It was fine. Good." Trent's lower lip quivered, and he gasped to take in any air.

"Trent, what's wrong?"

"We got a call this morning. Dr. Owens passed away the night before Thanksgiving."

"That's horrible," I said sincerely. "Wait. I just ... he was here last Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. Who would have thought that would be the last time we saw him."

"Wow. That's so sudden."

"Mrs. Owens didn't want to ruin anyone's Thanksgiving, so she waited to inform people this morning."

"Man. That timing is horrible. The holiday will always remind her of his passing. Man."

Trent started crying. "I'm sorry," he blubbered. "I have just let it hit me."

I hugged him. "Well, of course."

"You know, he felt like family. It's hitting me that way." He sniffed in some snot that was beginning to run from his nose. I hugged him harder. "Jakob is devastated. The two of them had worked together on projects up in Von."

"I'll call him today."

"Cooper, I'm sorry. I – I – I don't think I'm up for a run today. I'm sorry."

"Understood. We'll do it next month."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem at all. I'll give you space here."

I reached in for a final hug and walked to the car.

A few minutes later, I used the car's Blue Tooth to call Lance.

"Hi there," he answered.

"Hey. How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Um. Good. We are at my parents, right now."

"Trent just shared the news with me about Dr. Owens."

"Yeah," Lance said softly.

"We just saw him last week!" I remarked.

"I know. It's unbelievable. Heart attacks can just be so unpredictable."

"So sudden."

"I've never seen Jakob so torn up about something. It has hit him hard. Dr. Owens was like family to him."

I heard some muttering. I could tell Jakob had walked into the room. Lance explained it was me on the call.

"H – h – hey, Cooper," Jakob said, taking the phone.

"I was calling to check on you guys. I'm so sorry about Dr. Owens."

"Thanks. He was ... we had become really close in the last couple years. He ... he was like family, you know?"

"Right." I paused. "Anyway, if there is anything I can do for you guys, let me know."

"Thanks. It's nice of you to check on us, Cooper."

"We're friends. Of course. I love you both."

"We love you too. Take care."

The call was short.

I was ten minutes from my house. I just stared blankly through the windshield. My friends' words rang through my ears.

Trent: "He felt like family."

Lance: "Dr. Owens was like family..."

Jakob: "He was like family."

Like family.

Like family.

Like family.

I stared blankly out the window.

Like family.

I turned a corner and blankly blinked. Oddly I felt emotionless.

Like family.

The thought of one of my family members passing entered my mind.

I blinked blankly. I felt nothing.

"Like family," I unknowingly whispered.

I still felt nothing.

I was suddenly overwhelmed that I felt nothing. It was an elephant on my shoulders that the loss of my siblings would make me feel nothing. Surely, I would be sad if Mom or Dad died, right? Surely. I felt nothing.

The fact that I could stir up no emotions from these thoughts added another elephant. How horrible of a brother am I? A son? I was horrible. Horrible!! Tears started running down my cheeks. Not from the thought of losing a family member. Not for Dr. Owens. I was bawling that I had no emotional connections to my family. If they passed, it wouldn't hit me. I would be numb. I would feel nothing. And I cried for several minutes once I entered the house. I cried because I was a horrible human being.

I felt like I should call Mitchell. Or Laramie. Or Emory. Or Logan. Maybe I could get an earlier appointment with Logan next week.

 

—

 

"My family enjoyed your video," I told Corey as I picked him Saturday morning. He smiled.

"How was your Thanksgiving?" Natalie asked.

I waited for Corey to go get his bag. I then turned to her with an eye roll. "Hell."

"Uh oh."

"I don't care if I ever see them again. I just go through the motions for Mom and Dad."

"Cooper, no."

"Nat, you have no idea what it is like. After the divorce ... I'm not just a black sheep, I'm demon spawn."

"I'm sure you are exaggerating."

"I dread Christmas. I dread it."

Corey came back. I became silent.

"Well, we had a good Thanksgiving. Right, Corey?"

"I ate SO MUCH, Dad. It was embarrassing."

I laughed. "Thanksgiving is kind of a free pass on that."

"My grandparents asked about you," Natalie told me.

"Oh. Nice. That's ... that's nice. I miss them."

"They miss you too."

My eyes watered at thoughts of her family missing me. I knew mine wouldn't care.

"We should head on, buddy," I said, wiping my eyes.

Our first topic was lunch options. Corey was eager to fix me dinner. Excited even. I got caught up in his enthusiasm. I asked if he needed any special ingredients. He said he had a recipe, and we could check for what we would need at the house. Pizza was on the agenda when lunch rolled around. Roman Column served us a fantastic pepperoni and sausage thin crust. After that, we strolled the grocery store looking for cumin, a bulb of garlic and a green bell pepper. I picked up some more flavored waters for me. Corey grabbed some more Cokes for himself. Fresh chicken was the protein for tonight's course.

That afternoon, Corey wanted to start the latest Star Wars episodes that had begun streaming. We had loved The Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett, so we were willing to give Andor a try. We had waited to start because we wanted the season to be mostly available.

A text came in from Nat.

"Okay you. Since you have our son all hyped up to own a coffee maker, give me some suggestions. I plan on doing some Christmas shopping this weekend."

I smiled, trying not to give Corey a reason to look. I texted Natalie the brand I owned. He would be familiar with that.

After two episodes, we admitted it was different. We said we would need a few more under our belt until we could tell if we liked it.

"Hey, Cor'. Have you thought about Christmas? Anything on your wish list? I'm always up for suggestions."

He looked ahead and then down.

"I ... I wrote down some things for Mom and her side of the family. I guess you could call her and see what they might be choosing."

He looked odd. His expression and body posture were awkward. Something had been triggered. He walked away.

A minute later I heard him piddling about in the kitchen. I walked in to freshen my drink. He was gathering pans and ingredients needed for dinner. I poured a new carbonated water with lemon over my ice. As the fizz continued to crackle, I stood behind him scratching his back. Suddenly Corey whirled around and embraced me in a tight hug.

I was startled. "Well, hey."

"I'm sorry, Dad," he softly said with his head buried in my shoulder.

I pulled us apart.

"I don't understand. What are you sorry for?"

"I put everything on my Christmas list for Mom. I – I – I didn't even think about holding back something for you. I feel bad that you have to ask Mom for whatever is left over. I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't think."

He hugged me again.

"Hey, buddy. Don't give this a second thought." I pulled us to the dinette table. "I've done okay these past couple of years, right? I was just seeing if you had suggestions of what you might like. I'm fine." How mature he was becoming. "But it means something to me that you care about my feelings. Thank you for that."

I took a drink of my now-silent beverage.

"Have you heard your mother say she needs anything?"

"You're divorced. Are you planning on getting her something."

"I think I'd like to. I mean, it can't be mushy or too personal. I don't think Daryl would like that."

Corey shrugged.

"I really have no ideas though. I think she drops hints to me about things that don't cost much."

"If you want to give her something bigger, I can help out with that."

"I hate to just take your money."

"You could earn it."

"How?"

I could give you two tasks a month. We now have a yard, so there will be things to do there. Wash the car. Paint things..."

"Paint?!"

"Maybe. We'll see. The house is big. I'm sure I will need a hand or two from time to time."

"I'd be willing to do that."

"Won't be long until you are 16 and you will be driving to a job of your own."

"Dad, are you rich now?"

I laughed. "Hardly. I had a good year at work. A bonus commission or two has been very helpful this year. I'm in a pretty good place. My work deals with money as you know. I'm very good at investing it. Why, were you going to ask for a car?"

He rolled his eyes. "No! Of course not." He walked back to his ingredients. "But. I know Mom can't afford it, but I think I'd like a keyboard."

"Interesting. You want to learn to play?"

"Yeah. But more than that, I'd like to write songs."

"Wow."

For a moment I thought about introducing him to Trent. I had heard songs Trent had written in both his play and at Friendsgiving.

"We'll see. It would hardly be a surprise."

"I wouldn't know what kind..." he said with a sneaky grin.

"Right! And I could paint it light purple and bedazzle it with jewels."

"Please don't."

I laughed and he joined in with a chuckle.

 

—

 

"Man! This is awesome," I said, waving my fork as I spoke. "Did Daryl teach you this dish?"

"No."

"Your mother?"

"Good grief, no. Mom's so boring." He paused. "I shouldn't have said that. I like what she fixes. But we don't try many new things. I had this at a friend's house, and I asked his parents for the recipe. They had different potatoes, but I think what we had here works."

"Absolutely. I like how your friends are introducing new cultures and cuisines."

Corey had seared a cumin chicken dish with picante, and the side dish was sauteed onions and peppers over seasoned potatoes.

"They had mushrooms on the potatoes too, but ... I'm not a big fan of them."

"Thank you for cooking for me. What a treat."

"You made the salad."

"Oh, right. I labored over that."

As I got up to carry my plate to the dishwasher, I kissed him on the top of his head. "You're an awesome kid."

"You're my dad. You have to say that."

"I don't have to do anything. You ARE an awesome kid."

"Whatever."

I returned to the table. "Corey, you're my world. I couldn't be luckier. You've been so understanding when my life got so uprooted. You are so forgiving ... and so kind ... and understanding. I'm so very proud of you."

"All right already. I never would have cooked if I knew you were going to get so mushy."

I leapt to his side and gave him a sloppy, noisy smooch on his cheek. He giggled immensely. Then he shoved me away.

"I love you," I said as I carried his plate to the dishwasher.

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Now stop."

 

—

 

It warmed my heart every time I saw Brad and Corey embrace.

We were the first to arrive today. I knew Mitch was coming, but I figured since Emory or Laramie didn't travel for the holiday, they would most likely be here.

We carried our coffees to the table. It was a table for four. I peeled my lid off. I noticed Corey did the same. He tried drinking his coffee black like me. After about five minutes, he stirred half a packet of sugar in it.

"Dad, we have a coffee maker at home. Why do you come here for coffee?"

"Do you not like Joe?"

"Yeah. I do. I just wondered."

"Well, you know how sometimes you cook at home, but there are times when you just want to go out?"

"I guess."

"It's like that. We have friends here. Sometimes people just need to be social. Like you going over to your friends' houses."

"Sure. That makes sense."

"And look at all the flavor choices here."

"Which you don't use."

"Should we just bring Brad home and let him serve us there?"

Corey laughed. "I like him."

"It's hard not to like Brad."

"Thank you!" he called from behind the counter. The man must have exceptional hearing.

A minute later a free cinnamon roll had been placed on our table. "You're welcome!" Brad announced with a fierce whirl to his body as he strutted away. The two of us smiled.

"Are all these businesses around here gay?"

Yikes.

"Um. I suppose they cater to a gay clientele, but obviously, anyone can shop there or dance there or eat there."

Corey took inventory of all the places he could see out the window. As he noted each one, he casually said, "My girlfriend knows you are gay, and she has been asking all these..."

"YOUR GIRLFRIEND!?"

Corey snapped his head to look at me. "I mean my friend. She's my friend."

"Oooooo. Tell me everything," I swooned.

"Stop. Stop right now. This is why kids don't tell their parents anything. Don't be weird."

"Your dad? Weird? Surely not," said Emory as he pulled out a chair.

"Yes. He's a total dork."

"But such a lovable dork," Emory defended.

"Corey was just telling me about his latest romantic conquest," I said sarcastically.

"Ugh. I hate you."

"You love him, and you know it," Emory said.

"Of course I do. He's an awesome dad. Until two minutes ago, he was."

"Okay, okay." I got serious. "You said that sheeee..."

"Grace."

"You said that Grace had questions about gaaaayyyy ... places? People? Me?"

"I think she has a gay uncle and ... I don't know ... she likes him ... I think ... I guess she's just trying to wrap her head around it. She's asked me a few questions."

"Like?"

"Geez, Dad, I don't know. Just questions. I think she just wants to understand."

I patted him on the top of his hand. "Well, I know you are a good friend in that regard. Hopefully she hasn't teased you."

"Oh, no. Most my friends are cool. The assholes probably don't say any crap to my face."

"Your mother would love your phrasing, I'm sure."

"Whatev."

"So, how serious are you two?"

He was quiet. His face got just a hint of red to it. "We haven't kissed."

"Do you want to?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Just do it," said Emory. "She wants to, you want to. Just lead with your lips. You two will figure it all out."

"Well, thanks, DAD!" I said, glaring at Emory.

"Meh. He's at the right age. Kissing is fine."

"There you go, Corey. This is why we come here for coffee. It's where you get all your dating advice."

Corey almost spit out his coffee laughing.

"What's going on?" asked Laramie, sitting down.

"Please! Can we start a new subject?" moaned Corey.

"Um. I'm lost," said Laramie. "Emory, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"Solo."

"Ah, about like mine. But at least we all had Friendsgiving."

"Tell me about that," Corey asked.

Everyone shared their favorite moments at being at Mike's and Trent's house. It was so much better than being with my family. Friendsgiving was so full of love. Thanksgiving was a festival of animosity. Corey described the holiday being at his grandparents. I listened fondly, remembering people I long cared about but no longer got to see. I figured once Jakob stopped grieving over Dr. Owens, I might visit his store and buy some things for Natalie and her relatives. I felt overly generous this Christmas.

 

—

 

"Thanks for seeing me today," I said to Logan.

"I had a cancelation. My secretary made it sound a bit urgent."

"I'm a mess."

"What's happened?" Logan asked.

I shared the Cliff's Notes of Thanksgiving joy.

"I'm a horrible person. The thought that I wouldn't even cry or be bothered if my family members passed away ... who does that? I'm awful."

"I am sure you would miss them. Certainly your parents. Right now they are shooting a quiver of arrows your direction, and you are dodging them. If it were to come to a halt, you would feel relief. But ... that won't last forever."

"I don't know. You haven't met them."

"Did you like them when you were married to your ex-wife?"

"Yeah. I guess. I suppose. They all loved Natalie. We got along. When the kids were little, we all loved watching them play. And grow up."

"And that has now changed," Logan said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah. I guess I messed it all up for them."

"No. I said it changed. I didn't say you messed it up. What I would like for you to do is to flip this 180 degrees. Try to see it from their perspective."

"Huh?"

"Instead of feeling like it is an attack on you, see it through their eyes. Try to feel the pain they are with the change. I'm not saying it's fair. And I certainly don't think you need to agree with them. But it might make you feel better if you realize they are processing the change. You said they are all religious, correct?"

"Oh yeah."

"And you were too at one point. In their minds, you are now living a sinful life because you are a homosexual. Is that a fair assessment?"

"Oh yeah."

"And they think you're going to hell."

"Yep."

"So from their point of view, that hurts. That pains them. I'll admit, they are terrible at expressing their concerns, but if you see it as a lobsided attempt to show they care about your ... life, your soul, the afterlife ... maybe it won't hurt so bad that way."

I contemplated his point. It was absurd yet so logical. Maybe he had a point. Or maybe my family was a bunch of dicks. I couldn't control them, but I could control how I felt about them.

"You know, I'll try that at Christmas. We'll see. I'm not sure, but ... I ... I think you might be on to something."

"From what I jotted down from last time, you seemed indecisive if you had feelings for someone else. Am I correct in that assessment?"

"Probably," I sad with a scowl.

"Hm. Not the response I would have expected."

I sighed.

"I'm supposed to be here to work out things with Mitch. I love Mitch."

"But...?"

"Gah!! I feel like a total hypocrite. I build these walls because Mitch cheated. And then ... then I find myself attracted to someone else."

"Attracted."

"Yeah."

"So you haven't acted on these feelings."

"No. Yes. No. Not really. Maybe."

"Let me know when you have your final answer."

"He's awesome. I'm drawn to him. We've ... um ... kissed a couple of times. But he knows I'm with Mitchell, and I'm trying to ignore what I'm feeling."

"You said before you gave Mitchell permission to see other people. Was that so you could see ... do you feel comfortable telling me his name?"

I didn't want to. I just wanted my attraction to Laramie to dry up so I could fix Mitch and me.

"Laramie."

"Laramie. Interesting."

"He hates it. He tells people to call him Larry. For some reason, I love it. I find it ... exotic. In a Western way."

Logan smiled. He started to say something.

"But we're just friends!" I blurted.

"Friends who kiss."

"Well, this year I've become comfortable kissing friends."

"Does Laramie think that's what it is? A friendly kiss?"

"No. He says he has feelings for me."

"And this causes you conflict."

"Yes! I love Mitch. I love him. But ... I'm drawn to Laramie. I'm not doing a good job fighting it."

"Since you told Mitch he could see other people, do you feel you are entitled to do the same?"

"I ... I wasn't intending to. I just knew I wasn't able to give Mitch the commitment he needed, that he deserved."

"He cheated on you. Why do you think he deserved your commitment?"

I paused. "Aren't you his friend? Aren't you supposed to be helping us get back together?"

"I'm not a matchmaker, Cooper. I'm here to help you work through things. You are my client, not Mitch."

"Are you telling me to date Laramie?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything. I want you to figure out what you want."

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be here."

"Exactly. Let me ask you this. You're sitting home. You are feeling blah, alone. Suddenly the phone rings and you hope it is someone asking you to go out. Who do you want it to be?"

"Will sex follow afterward?"

Logan laughed.

"Maybe."

"Well, if sex is on the table, then I hope Mitch calls. But ... if it's just going out, I love being with Laramie."

"Sex with Laramie is off limits then."

"If I'm seeing Mitch."

"But Mitch has the freedom to date and screw anyone he wants, correct?"

"Well, I wouldn't have worded it that way. Jeez."

"Did you give him that freedom?"

"Yes."

"And if he wanted to go fuck ..."

"Derek!"

"Oh. Okay, Derek. That's okay with you?"

"I said he could, so ... yeah. If I give him permission, then ... then it doesn't hurt. As much."

Logan jotted some notes on the pad. I wondered what words he used to describe me.

"But would it hurt?"

"I'd be lying if I said `no.'"

"Then why give permission when you felt he had been faithful these last months?"

"Because my head wasn't on straight. If I can't give him the 100% commitment he deserves, then ... he should be free to see if someone else can."

"Hmm."

I glared at Logan. "And what does `hmm' mean?"

"Nothing. It's just an ... interesting approach."

"Everyone deserves to be happy. So if I can't be the perfect fit for Mitch, then maybe someone else is."

"What if Mitch isn't the perfect fit for you? What feelings do you have for this Laramie fellow?"

"We're just friends."

"Clearly, you've indicated it's more than that."

"That's what it should be."

"Why?"

"I want Mitchell and me to work out."

"But you are already admitting there are problems there."

"MY problems."

"But they are still there," he countered. "Did you ever date?"

"Men or women?"

"Both."

"Natalie and I did for a few years. Mitchell and I just jumped into a romance at work. I wouldn't say there was dating, per se."

Logan jotted a couple of notes. I didn't know why, but I started to hate that when he did it.

"What do you keep writing about me?"

"Don't mind that. It's just to help me." He put the pad down. "So. You've never dated `around'?" he asked using air quotes.

"You mean like multiple people?"

"Exactly."

"No. I guess not."

"But you pinpointed Natalie was right for you and then Mitch was right for you. How did you reach these conclusions?"

"Well, with Natalie, it was all the things a person would want in a girlfriend. I liked all the things about her."

"But?"

"I felt people expected me to propose. I'm sure I felt Natalie did. You know, it was several years in college, so... it just seems like I was supposed to."

"But you didn't desire it, crave it, just had to spend your life with her?"

"Probably not. It just seemed like the thing to do." I stared into nothingness for a moment. "Man. It's odd that I couldn't see that at the time."

"And Mitch?"

"Well, we were sort of a fling at work. Just admitting I was gay, exploring it ... it was like ... seeing life in color for the first time. Sex was suddenly WOW!"

"And why is Mitch `the one'?"

"I didn't know how to be gay. He accepted me in spite of that. Taught me things."

"Like what things?"

"Geez, I don't know. He definitely helped me sexually. Gentle, tender, patient. But he showed me things about the gay world. Movies, authors, music."

"Do you feel others couldn't do this? You seem to enjoy the company of this Laramie."

"It just doesn't seem fair to Mitchell."

"Fair? The main screwed some Derek in your own bed."

"Mitchell didn't tell me you were so blunt. You should meet my friend Lance."

"Back to the question. Mitchell cheated. Why did he deserve fairness?"

I was momentarily stumped. My mind was an escape room trying to unlock each clue. Why was I so loyal to Mitch? Why did Mitchell's friend seem to be working against him? What was it about Laramie's company that I had learned to enjoy it more than Mitchell's? Was I afraid to open up to someone else? Did I think the next boyfriend would cheat on me too? Why did I never think of a "next boyfriend" as being a possibility?

"To be honest, I don't know. I just knew who I was. I wanted to be fair. I wanted to make the noble choices, to be the upstanding one."

"Would you say that is a product of your upbringing?"

"Absolutely. 100 percent."

He jotted some words.

"Stop that," I snapped. "I don't like it when you are writing things about me. It's like secrets or something."

"Sorry. I didn't know that bothered you. No problem."

"Actually, you're just doing your job. I'm sorry I snapped."

"You've actually made a lot of headway today."

"You think so?"

"Well, you seem open to trying different approaches with your family. You are questioning your loyal attachment to Mitch. And I think you are pondering finding your own path without him."

"So you think I should date other people."

"What I think is irrelevant. I want you to make decisions that will make you happy. You deserve to be happy. Do you believe that?"

"I guess."

"Say it."

"Say it?"

"Say you deserve to be happy."

"Everyone deserves to be happy."

"That's not it."

"Okay, I deserve to be happy."

"Say it again."

"I deserve to be happy."

"Louder."

"I deserve to be happy!"

"Good. I'll see you next week."

 

—

 

It was 8 o'clock. I picked up my phone. I set my phone back down.

It was 8:12. I picked up my phone. I opened my contacts. I set my phone down.

It was 8:18. I texted Laramie: "Would you like to go out tomorrow?" I erased the message. I set the phone down.

8:23. While at Black Stallion, Laramie had taken a picture of our group. I opened that image. He looked so handsome in that cowboy hat. Just enough chest hair showed through the opening of his shirt. I tried to remember the brief moments I had seen him shirtless. I pictured that glimpse of him walking by his bedroom door naked. I wanted to see him naked.

I had an erection that was a crowbar.

8:32. I dialed.

"Hi, you, what's up?" he answered.

"One time you told me you hoped one day you could have a first date with me. How about tomorrow night?"

It was quiet on his end. The pregnant silence was too prolonged.

"Laramie?"

"I – I don't know what to say. What happened with Mitch?"

"Nothing."

"I don't understand."

"Would you like a date or not?" I said in embarrassment and panic.

"Um. Okay. Sure."

I exhaled. "Nice. I'm craving Mexican food."

"Sounds good. I could probably be ready around 7:00."

"I can give you until 7:30. Do you know where Jalisco is?"

"I do."

"We can talk more tomorrow. A lot tomorrow. It's a date."

We said goodbye. I hadn't realized my heart was beating a mile a minute. I smiled. It was a kind of smile I didn't remember ever making.

 

—

 

To: Mitchell Sanders
From: Cooper Snow

Can we have lunch in your office today? I have some papers I want you to look over.

 

To: Cooper Snow
From: Mitchell Sanders

I was hoping you'd have those papers ready.

 

Mitch closed the door to his office. He gave me a nice kiss. I put my arms around him, and we held each other.

"If you really meant lunch, I have brought nothing," he said.

"I've ordered Panera. It should be here in ten minutes. Nadine will text me when it is delivered to the lobby."

"Good." He kissed me more deeply. "If it were after hours, I might just have you out of those slacks for ten minutes."

"Tempter."

We both groped each other's crotch. Within a minute we were hard.

"Let's sit down," I said. "We need to talk."

Those four words always make people nervous. An expression of concern was vivid on Mitchell's face.

He sat behind his desk. I moved a chair in front of it.

"As you know, I've been seeing Dr. Horwood."

"Right. Right. How's that going?"

"Can someone really tell? I guess fine. We just talk a lot. Mostly me. He seems to love to ask questions."

"Psychologists, right?" he mocked with an eye roll. "They want you to come up with the answers."

"Yeah. He's helping me sort out things. My family. Us. Experiences. Whatever. Is it helping? Maybe with some things. We still need more sessions to get through everything."

"What do you talk about when it's us?" he cautiously asked.

"I think I should keep our sessions between him and me. But, in trying to help me uncomplicate my feelings with ... Derek ... and you ... and just me as a person in general, he points out that I don't have anything to compare it to."

"I don't understand."

"Obviously, I was married to Natalie, but you are the only man I've been with."

A lie. But the night with Emory was in an alternate universe. That wasn't really me.

"Sooo...?"

"I want to be upfront and honest. I'm going to go on a few dates."

"My friend is telling you to date other people??!"

"He didn't tell me to date other people. That's not it. To help me get a handle on it, he feels I haven't determined what I even want."

"What?? That makes no sense."

"In a way, it does. The walls are there. Perhaps if I have something to compare it to, I know what I want and I can get around those walls. Or take them down."

"We love each other. I don't like this."

"I'm not giving up on us. Don't think that. This might help me get perspective."

"It might help you go to bed with someone else!"

"That's not the point. I've given you freedom to date whomever you want and..."

"I didn't ask for that. I just want you."

"I'm ... I'm just being honest here. I don't want secrets."

"This is weird. I don't like it." Mitchell had an expression between a child's pout and shocked outrage. "How long? Do the two of us still get to be with each other?"

"Of course."

"Good. Can it be this weekend? I'm going to give you the loudest, wildest sex of your life. The shingles will fly off."

I laughed. "Friday night?"

"Can I have you the whole weekend?"

"Sounds nice."

A text indicated the sandwiches had arrived. I went down to retrieve them. The conversation had been awkward, but I made it through better than I thought. It is no surprise that he is distraught, but I felt good that I wasn't going to be hiding anything. A thin sliver of my brain also felt slight satisfaction that Mitchell would see what it feels like. Not that I was necessarily going to pursue sex with Laramie, but ... it could happen. If Mitchell felt that, then it might do him some good.

Back in his office, he unwrapped his Turkey & Avocado BLT. The Thai Chicken Soup was another favorite of his. I had the Citrus Asian Crunch Salad with Chicken and Creamy Tomato Soup.

"I have a date tonight," I said, taking my first bite.

"Already?? With who?"

"That's not important. I just wanted you to know."

"Will you have sex?"

"It's a first date. We just have dinner set up."

"Hm. Maybe I'll text `I love you" every ten minutes during your dinner."

I laughed. "I do love you, Mitch."

"This is strange."

 

—

 

I drove into the Jalisco parking lot. There were more cars than I expected on a Tuesday night. I saw Laramie near the door.

"It's busier than I thought," I said, walking up. We hugged.

"Must be the nice weather."

The wait list wasn't long, but the hostess told us it would be about 20 minutes.

"I'm going to grab a margarita from the bar. Want one?" Laramie asked.

"I'm fine," I said, slightly amused.

Laramie hadn't realized what he had done. I gave him less than two minutes for it to hit him. After he gave his order to the bartender, I noticed his shoulders slump and his head bowed. He realized he had offered to buy an alcoholic a drink. He said something else to the bartender.

He came back and handed me an ice water. "Cooper, I'm..."

I smiled. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry. I ... I'm ... that was so stupid. Please forgive me."

"It was an honest mistake."

"I was just excited for us to be on a real date that I slipped into auto pilot."

"Well, as you can see, I come with baggage."

"Huh. I'm the king of horrible first impressions. At least my streak continues strong."

It was fairly loud in the waiting area, but I did thank him for bringing me a water. We only had to wait twelve minutes, so we were seated shortly thereafter.

After a few minutes with the menu, I ordered the shrimp tacos. Laramie ordered something called Volcán Bárcena, apparently named after a volcano in Mexico. I could only imagine what stomach-churning ingredients he was after tonight.

After handing the menus to our server, we looked at each other. Neither of us were sure how to start conversation.

"I'm nervous," he said.

"Me too. Isn't that funny. We've known each other for months."

"So ... you and Mitch. I'm not sure what's going on."

"Well, prepare to run away from me screaming after tonight... "

"Never," he tenderly said.

"... but this is going to be a night of total honestly. Mitchell encouraged me to ... see somebody to help me work through the issues ... the walls I felt ... the hesitations ... the demons I've grappled with."

"Like a therapist?"

"Yeah."

"And this therapist told you to go out with me?"

I laughed. "Not exactly."

A basket of chips and bowl of salsa were placed on the table. We didn't hesitate to dive in. Over the next 50 seconds, conversation was replaced with the crack and crunch of chips. I liked the salsa. It was thick enough to stay on the chip. Some restaurants had watery salsa, and I invariably would drip on my clothes. I purposefully wore a red long sleeve tonight. Laramie had a suede vest over a turquoise western shirt.

"You look nice," I said.

"You look gorgeous. You always do."

I smiled. For the briefest second, I thought of Rex. I was confident that he had never heard those words in his life. I've always thought I was handsome enough, but nothing overly special. Life wasn't fair. Rex never got that. But I had my own problems. Life wasn't fair.

"Laramie, let me be honest. In sorting out my feelings ... and fears ... with my therapist, I'm working through some things. I'm not going to say I don't love Mitch. I do. But ..." I paused.

"But...?"

"I'd be lying if I said there wasn't an attraction between us."

"Agreed."

"As I try to sort this out, I don't want you to be misled. Mitch is my only reference point. He's the only man I've ever loved. And I still do, but the stumbling blocks make me wonder if it is love or a comfort zone. I'm not getting past him cheating on me with Derek, and ..."

"Cooper, hold on." Laramie looked stern. "If we are being honest, I love you. I know that. I've share that with you. I know you aren't in the same place. If we just remain friends or take it further with this date, I've accepted either outcome, but ... I don't want to be used for some kind of revenge against Mitch."

"No! Of course not. That's not my intention." I grabbed his hand. "Please know I care about you. A lot. I will never use you, nor will I do anything that I think would hurt you. But full disclosure, if we start seeing each other, I'll be seeing him too."

Laramie pondered my words. His eyes roamed the room and the table and nothing in particular.

"Fair enough. It's not like everyone else on the planet hasn't dated multiple people before."

"Yeah, in their teens and 20s. I'm almost 40. But if all I know is being with Mitchell, do I really know how I feel? What I want?"

"And what's my role then?"

"Just be you. If I can be honest and you can accept me and my baggage and my garbage..."

"I wouldn't call the shrimp tacos garbage," our server said, sliding my entrée in front of me. "I think you'll find them excellent."

We laughed. I looked at Laramie's dinner. It looked combative.

"What is that?"

"It's a burrito stuffed with spicy chorizo and green chilis, smothered in hot queso, fresh jalapenos and a zigzag of habanero cream," the server described.

"Does it come with a side of Roll-Aids?" I said in astonishment.

The server made sure we were all set. Laramie had half his margarita left and said he was fine. He asked for a glass of ice water, and our server topped off my glass.

Two minutes into dinner, we both agreed that our selections were outstanding.

"We kind of stopped talking," he said.

"I know. I guess I was saying that if you can accept me for who I am and where I am, I'm kind of interested in seeing if there is something there. I'd like to see how I feel when it isn't Mitchell. But I don't want to hurt you. And if all this is a dealbreaker, I totally understand. I like you, Laramie. I would never want to lose our friendship. That's the most important thing to me."

He crunched a chip.

"Agreed." He dipped another chip in the salsa. "If the two of us can go into this and ... and if it doesn't work ... or you and Mitch work things out, I don't want to go any further if it means we can't be friends anymore. Whether we can be a thing or not isn't as vital as you being in my life. You've introduced me to friends, and I'm happier than I've been in several years."

"Wow. I'm not sure if I am responsible for all that."

"People are as happy as they make their minds up to be, but ... you made an impression. I've never met anyone like you before. You're the best friend I have, outside of a guy from college. In town, no question."

"How am I that different? And please don't say gorgeous."

He laughed. "Do you know how some girls are drawn to the bad boys in high school? You know, the ones that get in trouble, that smoke, that disrespect teachers?"

"I suppose."

"I'm drawn to you for just the opposite reason. Don't take offense, but ... you have an innocence that is ... radiant." A look of surprise most likely overtook my face. "You are so kind and so moral and such a good father, and you love your friends, and you treat people with such respect..."

"You make me sound like a goody two shoes."

"You're magnificent. From the moment you splashed coffee on me and took care of me, I was struck. As I got to know you, I loved everything about you. You are very easy to love."

I looked at him blankly. "Wow." I reached for his hand again. "Thank you."

We returned to our dishes. Our server checked on us. We declined more chips.

"Laramie," I started. "I reached for your hand. Does it bother you that I did that in public?"

"Nope. Back in my years on the farm, I would have been terrified for anyone to see that. Now ... eh. You could stick your tongue down my throat right here, and I wouldn't care."

I laughed loudly. The tables on both sides of us turned to look. I blushed for a moment. Laramie casually forked another bite of venomous food substance in his mouth.

"I was in denial all those years. I never could have dreamed of doing something like that. Just looking at another man would freak me out." I exhaled. "I amaze myself that I didn't clue in earlier than I did. I mean, at some level, I probably knew. I guess I just figured most guys would look at other men now and then, but that I just hadn't worked up the right amount of gusto for women."

"Gusto." He smiled. "You're adorable."

"And you're sexy as hell."

He looked up and our eyes met. "Don't cuss. I like that you don't cuss." I smiled at him. "Except when we have sex, you can scream the cuss words during sex."

I laughed loudly again. The entire dining room looked at me then.

My shrimp tacos were easier to finish than his monumental burrito, but he did. Our server cleared our plates. I knew Laramie wanted to order another margarita when the server offered, but he glanced at me and declined. Our server stepped away.

"It's okay if you want another one," I said.

He was quiet.

"Let me say this. If we are eating out as friends, I'll have something to drink. If you and I are on a date, out of respect for you, I will not drink."

"That's kind. You don't have to do that though," I responded, but I knew those simple words sounded like the most amazing thing anyone had ever said to me.

"I wanted this first date. I wanted to have a chance. If you feel I'm not complicating your life — or our friendship — I want to do it right."

"And here we were nervous earlier," I responded.

We leaned over the table and gave a simple kiss. The dining room was only half full now, but we didn't care who saw. From what we could tell, no one reacted.

"Cooper, that stupid sex comment earlier ..." Laramie paused. "I ... I don't want to pressure you into anything. I think you want to take things slow. That was just a joke. Kind of. Take things as slow as you need. You're worth waiting for."

"Man. You have a nice way with words."

"Well, I'll need something. I'm not as handsome as Mitch."

"Sexy as hell, remember."

"He's probably bigger than me ...'down there' ... too. I'm just average." He paused. "Maybe a touch more than average."

"That's irrelevant. And I'm not even that. If that is a dealbreaker, then you need to pack your chips and go."

Laramie had the most gigantic grin on his face.

"What?"

"I love everything about you."

"Stop," I said, completely blushing.

When our server brought our third bowl of chips, we were down to one of two tables. We acknowledged the cleaning work and closing duties the staff had to do, so we paid the bill and said we were fine. We tipped huge.

For thirty more minutes we talked about anything. Carpentry. Farm equipment. Women's "cycles." Tax returns. Star Wars. Investments. Gutters. Heat levels of chili peppers.

It was almost closing time, and we knew we should leave. Our server saw us departing. She wished us goodnight, then she discreetly said, "You two are beautiful together." We smiled at her.

As I leaned against my car, Laramie put his arms around me. In the past, I felt his touch was the wrong thing. Tonight, I welcomed the slightest whisper of his skin next to mine. We leaned in. We kissed. We had become good friends in the past month. Tonight I had learned more about Laramie; I loved it all. It felt good. Dating is supposed to be agonizing. Tonight was easy. We kissed in the parking lot for a solid five minutes. One car drove by and shouted "woo hoo!" at us. We weren't certain of its sincerity, but we didn't care. Our lips didn't come apart.

With our arms still around each other, he finally pulled back. "So now what?"

"What do you think?"

"I was going to let you take the lead."

We had both been grinding our hard-ons into each other's jeans for the last five minutes. We wanted each other.

"Want to follow me home?" I offered.

"You sure?" he softly asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm not pressuring you. We can go slow."

I put my mouth to his ear and whispered, "I want to scream cuss words to the neighborhood."

He laughed and then kissed me.

"If I follow you home, will you ask your mom if you can keep me?"

 

—

 

We had eaten a year's supply of chips at the restaurant, but an hour later we were somehow having a bowl of ice cream in my kitchen.

It was 11:20. With both of us having to work in the morning, we knew we should move things along. I felt nervous again. Laramie carried a small overnight bag into the bedroom. I smiled at him.

"I wasn't being presumptuous. I just wanted to be prepared if ... you know."

I lit a candle in the bedroom and stripped down to boxers. I entered the bathroom to brush my teeth. Laramie followed with a travel kit of toiletries. He had taken off his clothes leaving boxers and a T-shirt. By the time we had both taken a piss and brushed our teeth, the bedroom already had the fragrance of strawberry and cream. The candle wasn't bright, but we had enough illumination to see each other when all the lights were turned out.

Laramie was someone new. I wasn't sure how to approach things. We were both in bed but not yet naked. We lay on our sides facing each other. We smiled, but we weren't sure what to say.

"I'm nervous again," I said.

"Me too."

We kissed. Soon we were in each other's arms.

Laramie's stomach growled with rebellious volume. We snickered.

"See? Right now your stomach is planning a protest. It's rallying the other organs to make the picket signs."

He laughed, then kissed me again.

"Not all the organs."

I reached for his cock. It felt like a lead pipe below the fabric. I couldn't wait to suck it.

His tongue entered my mouth, and our kissing became more passionate. I loved this. I felt good about this. One of his hands pulled from behind me and wriggled between us. He groped my cock below after slipping his hand beneath the waistband. I moaned at his touch.

His stomach roiled again. We laughed.

We pushed our bodies together and starting grinding our erections into each other. I moaned a bit more. He echoed my volume. Our lips were conjoined in a crusade to never separate. This was hot. I was glad I allowed myself to do this.

Suddenly Laramie pulled away from me.

"No."

"Huh?"

"Oh no. Damn. I'm sorry."

Still confused, I saw Laramie turn to the side of the bed. He stood. What was going on?

"Fuck," he said, and started heading to the bathroom.

The door closed, and the fan was turned on. For two minutes there was no disguising the sounds of gastronomic rebellion. It was a hideous episode. I smiled at both the poor embarrassment I knew he was feeling as well as — finally! — a small victory for his stomach. A moment later, the toilet flushed. I could hear the sound of aerosol being sprayed.

Laramie returned to the edge of the bed.

"Well. I sort of killed that." He turned to his bag. "I should go."

"Don't be silly. Lay down."

He reclined next to me. I held his hand.

"I'm sorry I killed the mood." He sighed a sorrowful sigh. "I should go."

"I want you to stay."

"I can't say all `that' is necessarily done."

"Well. Maybe if you treated your stomach with more respect..."

"You only live once," he said.

"Until your stomach is dissolved by all the acid, and you die."

"I should go."

"Relax and just hold me awhile."

He put his arms around me. We had both lost our erections. He was hard as a rock when he went into the bathroom. Sitting down with an erection alone had to be an embarrassing challenge. Bless his heart.

The night was ending weirdly, but I was okay with it, even if it wasn't what we envisioned.

He held me tighter. At some point I knew the candle would need to be blown out, but I didn't want out of his embrace. The simplicity of pressing our bodies together was pleasurable. It wasn't sexual, but there was still a sensuality to it.

Six minutes later. "Damn it!" he said.

He got up and went to the bathroom.

Act II.

Flush. Spray. The light went out. The bathroom door opened.

"I should..."

"Shut up and blow out the candle."

He did. In the darkness he crawled back into bed. Our lips found each other.

"Good night," we said in unison.

I maneuvered back into his arms. Neither of us said anything after that. We were sculpted in that position for the remainder of the night.

I looked at the clock. 12:07. He must have thought I drifted off to sleep. I heard him whisper into my neck, "I love you, Cooper." He didn't realize I had heard it.

I must have drifted off shortly thereafter because I didn't remember anything else.

It wouldn't be until the morning that I realized I had not thought of Mitchell the entire night.

 

—

 

The alarm went off at 7:15. I intended to immediately shut it off, but my hand was below the waistband of Laramie's boxers. I was gripping his butt cheek just like I did with Mitchell.

After turning off the alarm. I walked to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Upon my return, I went into the bathroom to drain all the liquid I had consumed at Jalisco.

Filtered sunlight had entered the bedroom. I could easily tell Laramie was awake. I leaned over him and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

"How do you feel?"

"The stomach is fine. You slept through it, but there was a round three at about 4:45. My god, can I be any worse at first impressions? I'm batting a thousand here."

I combed my fingers through his hair. "It's just one night."

"Our first date." He groaned. "I'm an idiot."

"But a cute one." I kissed him again. "I have coffee brewing."

He smiled and gripped my arm with his hand.

"If you'd like, we can do a quickie before you go to work."

I paused before responding. "No. I don't want our first time to be intimate to be a quickie. I'd feel better about it that way."

"Understood. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." I stood. "I do have somewhat of a compromise, maybe?"

He turned to look into my face.

"It might be nice to shower together."

"Indeed," he smiled.

Laramie went to the bathroom to pee.

"Do you need coffee before your shower?" I said, walking to the kitchen.

"Nah. I can wait."

I looked in the freezer and fridge to see if I could offer him anything for breakfast. My entire selection was raspberry yogurt.

"I'm embarrassed to say that all I have to offer is yogurt," I said entering the bathroom.

Laramie stood naked before me. He had started the shower spray. He saw me looking at him. I started at his neck and enjoyed the soft fur of chest hair that went down the middle. Laramie worked with his hands. His line of work was physical. His arms were very built. I hadn't noticed a tattoo that encircled one arm before. His belly was furry. His legs were sturdy and masculine. Between them hung a three-inch cock, but it was moving in mid-rise. Four. The penis jutted from a bush that I thought had the right amount of hair. His feet were manly. The toenails looked well groomed. Five. I returned my gaze to his face. He looked at me for approval. He had trimmed his beard for our date last night. I had noticed. Even though his hair was a morning mess, he was handsome. Almost six. It was a sundial pointing to his left nipple.

I grabbed two towels and put them on the hooks. When I designed this nice large shower for the house, I intentionally installed two hooks near it, thinking of Mitchell at the time.

I pulled my boxers over my raging erection and threw them to the clothes basket in the closet.

We both stepped in. The water poured over our bodies. We began with a kiss. And then a grope. And then our arms wrapped around each other. We didn't let go. We just let the water wash the moment continuously over our bodies.

I initiated the cleaning process. I started by shampooing his hair. He softly hummed as my fingers massaged his scalp. I squeezed body wash into the loofah and began sudsing his entire body. His chest got extra seconds. His cock received both my hands. I pulled it. I tugged it. I squeezed it. I held it.

"You feel good," I said into his ear. He hummed again in response to my words.

I put more body wash on two fingers and worked them into his ass.

"Smoke is still coming out," I said.

"Shut up," he replied.

I finished with cleaning his face. I tapped my finger on the tip of his nose to indicate he could rinse.

Laramie repeated the process on me. "Your soaps smell good," he threw in. I didn't just hum, I moaned at certain moments. The shampoo, the groping of my cock. The fingering of my ass.

Laramie dropped to his knees. My cock felt his tongue lasso my erection into his mouth. He tasted my freshly washed skin and suckled my flesh for breakfast. It was less than a minute, but I loved it. It was accentuated by the warm cascade flowing down my back.

He stood, and we kissed deeply. Our tongues explored. He positioned his mouth at my ear.

"I'm so sorry about last night," he softly said.

"Let's just think about this. It's nice."

We kissed again and I turned to let the heated water flow between us as we thrust our cocks into each other.

I patted his chest. "I do have a meeting, so..."

"Right."

Thirty minutes later we were standing in the driveway.

"We'll talk." I then kissed him goodbye.

 

—

 

I was out of my meeting by 10:30. At 10:45 my office line rang.

"How did the date go?"

"Miiiitchellll," I groaned

"Tell me. How did it go?"

"Fine. Good. Hit and miss. A disaster. Okay."

"Is it a multiple choice question?"

"Let's not have this conversation."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"No."

But we intended to. We started to. By certain stretches of the definition we might have qualified as sort of having sex, but we really didn't actually have sex. We probably would in the future but who knew for sure? I wanted to.

"No," I succinctly repeated. "It was only our first date, Mitchell." I hoped that might be a softening diversion, if not the whole truth.

"Are you going to see him again?"

"We have no plans at the moment."

He was quiet for several seconds.

"But I get you this weekend, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Great. I love you, Cooper. Please know that."

"I love you too."

After hanging up, I uttered to myself, "Now what?" I did love Mitch, but feelings for Laramie were there. Pronounced feelings. I wasn't denying them. I accepted them. I loved them. This "free to date" scenario I had concocted was enjoyable, but at some point — eventually — I would come to some conclusion. I was sure of it. I just had no idea how to get there. And hopefully I wouldn't cause calamity while doing so.

 

—

 

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"Work is good; can't complain. Things are good with my son. I love my house. That's all good. My love life is upside down. It's a mess. I can't stand to be with my family. They are wretched. I'm getting some counseling. I think that will help with my family.

"My love life is a different story. I'm trying to work on a relationship with my boyfriend. But... I'm feeling things. New things. I'm hoping something is going to pinpoint what I need to do. Dating at my age is scary. But there are some thrilling moments too. I'm sort of a mess in that regard. But. But I'm not sad. And all these things coming at me from different directions don't make me want to drink. I feel very successful about that. I used to bury stuff. Now ... I'm allowing myself to experience things. I'm just crossing my fingers that I don't make the wrong decisions.

"Thank you."

The group clapped.

I sat alone tonight. I knew half the people here.

Reflecting on my words, a few years ago, I was a drunk. I knew I was gay. I just wouldn't admit it. I drank to make me forget. I now felt confident. I didn't hide it. I owned it. I was finally figuring myself out. I didn't regret my time with Laramie. Everyone on the planet can date different people to see who fits. I wasn't going to feel guilty about it.

At least right now.

* * * *

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