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May

 

To: Cooper Snow
From: Mitchell Sanders

Hi,

Although I wish we could talk more, I'm trying to give you space.

However, I have business to discuss.

Since Shannon said we got the account — and YAY! — everyone is getting more added to their plate. What happened with you? You were quite involved.

Mitch

 

To: Mitchell Sanders
From: Cooper Snow

I'll say. Involved is an understatement. Mr. Shannon was REALLY happy with the numbers I crunched and the proposals I drafted. He kind of felt like I helped really push the deal through. I don't think I deserve that much credit; we're just a good fit for them.

If what I think is going to happen, I might get a nice bonus in the next month. We'll see what happens from there. I might use it to get a bigger place.

Cooper

 

A text came in. It was from Mitch.

"Hey. Don't want this on company email. Hold off on getting serious about a bigger place. Don't give up on us. I want you and me to be a good fit again. I'm trying to give you space and time to forgive me. Don't give up on us. I still love you."

What was I to do with things like that? I couldn't see myself forgiving him. Or if I did, it would be forgiving but not forgetting. I couldn't forget. But damn, it had been over four months, and I still missed him like we only had split up yesterday. Was that telling me something? I knew I loved him. Otherwise, I'd be over it.

I didn't respond.

 

—

 

Emory waved from a table by the window. I could see he had his newspaper spread out. I thought I was early but apparently hadn't arrived first. I was being madcap in the moment. I squirted some Hazelnut. A full squirt. Look at that. I was daring. I left the lid off.

"I figured I would get here first. You must have been really early," I said, sitting down.

"About 8:30. I didn't want to be rude and read in front of you, so I got an early start."

"I love that your read a paper. I know it is supposed to be a dying piece of history."

"I hope not. Maybe it can continue in digital format. People don't appreciate newspapers. Considering all the content, they are quite the bargain. Still."

Emory folded the paper neatly.

"I have news," I said.

"Great! Tell me."

"A work bonus and I think a promotion."

"Oh ... that's great. Good for you."

"That was less than enthusiastic."

"Sorry. I was geared up to hear about your love life. Your news is indeed wonderful. Congratulations."

"My love life is a train wreck, you know that. I suck at being gay, remember? Anyway, my input on this new account — a HUGE account — helped land the deal. I got a bonus this week! It's nice."

"How much?"

"Uhhh. I don't want to say out loud. Sorry. That's just me. I don't like to disclose ... anyway. It will help financially with a bigger place to stay."

"Fine."

"BUT it looks with this new company on board, I will have a bigger role in their investments. If they approve, my boss already said our company was already willing to move me up."

"Fantastic. You deserve this good news. Really, this is awesome for you."

"Well, I'm happy about it, for sure."

"So, what are you thinking about for a new place?"

"That I haven't even started. I know when Corey stays over, I'd like for him to have his own room. I could get a two-bedroom apartment very easily. Things have stabilized for me. I'm doing okay. He is of the age where he needs his own space. But I'm thinking house. I'd love to have a home office, a guest room, a little more space to entertain."

"And who are you entertaining, Cooper?" Emory said with great insinuation.

"No one. Yet. But maybe."

"When I get Corey Saturday, I am going house hunting."

"Hey, that's great."

"Actually, I am also thinking about building from the ground up."

"Wow. Fancy."

"With the promotion, I think I'd like my house to be exactly as I want it. I mean, if I found a great house on the market, I'd certainly take it if it was perfect, but I think I'm going to look into a few developments. If I can customize it to what I want, I'm ... feeling like that's the way to go."

"Good for you. That's exciting."

"And it will be good for Corey."

"Did you and Natalie have a house?"

"Yeah. She's still in it."

"Oooo. Was it a nasty settlement?"

"Actually, no. We had six or seven years of equity in it. Her father bought out my half. She loved the house; she has her craft room, etc. It's set up the way she wanted. It was a starter home, but still three bedrooms. About 2,300 square feet. She is doing well with payments on her own. I think her dad chips in a little, but Natalie has a good job. She has a smart head on her shoulders. Once Corey was of school age, she went back to work. She's done well. I'm proud of her."

"So what was your damage in the divorce?"

"It really was handled smoothly. She got the house. I took very little. I pay child support, of course, but finances aren't our big issue."

"No alimony?"

"Nope."

"That's lucky."

"We left on good terms. Good -ish."

"Well, I hope to see your house one day."

I drifted a moment imagining what the exterior of my house might look like.

"Have you worked through your feelings with Mitch?" Emory asked, bringing me back.

"Hardly. When we talked at work, he asked me not to make a decision on a new place. He still wants us to fix what we had."

"Is that possible?"

"I still have NO idea. If I had a lobotomy, probably. I want to forgive. I want to rekindle what we had. I ... do love him. The pain is less, but that doesn't say much. I just have this image of him and ... whoever ... branded on the inside of my brain."

Emory sipped coffee. He was not offering feedback.

"Nothing to offer?"

"If I did, it might end being the wrong thing. Only you can make up your own mind."

"You're no help," I chided.

"I'm not here to be your help. I'm here to be company."

"And you're good company. I am not sure if I have told you, I appreciate you. I enjoy our Sunday mornings. Right now, you are about the only friend I visit with."

"Well, change that!! Get new friends! But, hey, thank you. I like our coffee mornings, too." He was almost through his coffee after a big sip. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Did you and Mitchell get together before your divorce or after?"

Wow. That was a deep trench. I've put Mitchell in such a bad light these past weeks. This conversation wasn't going to flatter me.

"Um. Well. Since you asked..." I looked down; I couldn't look Emory in the eyes. "He and I started ... while Natalie and I were still married. A couple of weeks into it, I knew ... I knew the truth. I was deceiving her, and I wanted Mitchell."

"So. Technically, you cheated on her."

"Technically? There is no `technical' manipulation about it. I did. I simply did."

"Cooper," Emory started. "Before you start making big decisions, think hard on your own mistakes. Whether you and Mitch can heal and become a thing again only you can decide, but ... you are human, but you might have to allow him to be human too."

 

Conference Room Zeta was full. About 20 people were seated and at least that many surrounding the perimeter of the room, standing. I didn't like this conference room. There were no windows. The only good thing about the space happened to be four dozen donuts on the table. But I didn't need one of those. Empty calories. Just as Mrs. Pike was about to speak, I darted ahead a few steps, snatched a donut, a cocktail napkin and then stepped back into my place against the wall. The guy next to me smiled. I smiled back. I thought his name was Mitchell. Handsome fellow; I liked his moustache. When I had seen him in the past, he hadn't grown a beard before. I thought it looked really good on him.

Halfway through Pike's presentation, I looked over at him. Mitchell had a nice profile. I thought his facial features were ideal. Strong cheek bones, a sturdy slope of the nose, masculine eyebrows — and a dang good-looking moustache. I wasn't sure why I was looking. He looked over at me. It startled me. I couldn't just look away; he had seen me looking at him. I made a simple smile. I didn't know why I had looked at him.

Yes, I did.

Two months before, I explored to find pornography online for the first time in my life. Natalie would have been horrified. She would have turned to ash had she found out. What was worse, it wasn't even women. The interview that day had been with a man that I thought to myself was "hot." I questioned why I thought that. His partner was in a suit and tie; he just had on a button-down long sleeve. His chest looked so hairy on the few inches I could see between his collars. I fixated on that. I surprised myself that I wanted to keep looking at it. To my astonishment, I got an erection just looking at it.

I figured I would just find pictures of men online. And when I did, then what? But there was video — right there! Wait. It was free? That's horrible. I was disgusted by just the preview images. Until I saw the hairy chest on one guy. I clicked on it.

I wasn't sure what to expect. This was not what I was expecting from gay men. I thought it would be all pink and feathers and very effeminate. These men were masculine to the max. I loved seeing them kiss. When they started undressing each other, my dick was iron. I unbuttoned my pants just to allow some room. Within minutes they were naked. Nothing was insinuated. I could see it, watch it. It was there. Wow. I wanted to stop. It was wrong. This wasn't me.

I looked at the clock. Corey had gone to get his hair cut following dinner. He and Natalie wouldn't be back until at least 20 more minutes.

I unzipped my fly. My hand simply rubbed my penis through the underwear.

These naked men mesmerized me. They were touching, they were groping, they were kissing. I rubbed myself harder.

I wanted to be in there with them. I wanted them to touch me. I wanted to touch both the cocks I saw on the screen. Just to feel them was all I needed. Thoughts of Henry flooded my mind. I loved that night almost 20 years ago.

One of the guys bent down and started sucking the other's erection. Wow. I was seeing that for free. My own dick felt amazing. Amazing. I noticed my breathing was heavy. I looked at the clock. At least 15 minutes. I pulled my pants and underwear down past my hips.

My laptop was now to my side. My fist was wrapped around my cock, and I jerked it without mercy. I watched one man consume this other man's huge organ. He said some things that I thought were stupid. I didn't care. I just watched.

"I want you to suck mine," I whispered to nobody.

They grunted and groaned. I moaned with them. My dick had a car battery wired to it.

One of the men yelled at the other, "I want you to fuck me."

"Ungh!" Just hearing that did it. I shot cum further than I ever had. It hit me on the chin. It stretched all down my shirt. The orgasm was extreme. It went on forever. I knew I would never forget it. Ever.

And then I was finished. I didn't even see the men fuck. I closed all programs with my dick still hanging out, dripping final droplets of moisture onto my hip. I purged it from the computer's history. I looked at my shirt.

Fuck!

I closed the laptop and hopped up. At least 10 minutes left.

Jumping out of my pants, I threw them and the shirt in the laundry. I put on some shorts and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt. I went barefoot as dark socks looked stupid.

I had come three minutes ago and my face in the mirror was still flushed. I darted to the kitchen to get some ice water.

Eight minutes later, my wife and son came home and saw me reading on the couch. I smiled casually.

"Nice haircut, buddy," I said.

That's why I was looking at Mitchell. Even if I felt shame after watching the porn, I knew I would put it out my mind. I would focus on my marriage and never do it again.

For two weeks.

I just wanted to "look" and that was it. Nat and Corey were out one Saturday. School supplies or something. My fingers scrambled to type in the site I had been to two weeks before. I didn't like the first video after a couple minutes. Too many tattoos. I watched another, but they weren't as handsome as the one I saw that first time. And another. This one I liked. The men were muscular and manly. And soon fucked. I watched male intercourse. It was repulsive. Sex in the ass; that had to be gross ... and uncomfortable. But they were hot. I loved listening to them moan as they had sex. It was hot. They switched positions. This arrangement was hot. I was working my dick over. It was hot. How could men actually use butts for sex; gross. But a tear formed in my eye when I thought it was hot. I knew it was hot and hated myself. One of my fingers reached down to my own hole. I just touched it, slightly massaged it. I would never be able to do such a thing. But it felt hot.

Damn.

I knew I was gay. It was hot.

For just a second, Mitchell's elbow touched mine. It was just a simple bump, must have been an accident. It stayed there for a few seconds touching mine. I got hard just thinking it was hot.

Following Pike's presentation, people started filtering out of the room. Mitchell turned to me.

"Have we actually met? Hi, I'm Mitchell. Mitchell Sanders."

"Cooper Snow."

"You're on the ... fifth floor?"

"Sixth. And you?"

"Fourth. I'm in I.T."

"Thank heavens for you guys," I said. "Um. Nice meeting you, Mitchell."

 

—

 

Four days later, I was having lunch in the lounge on our floor. Halfway through, Mitchell walked in. I gave him a smile.

"Hey there."

"Hi, Cooper. All week our floor's lounge has been baby talk. We have two expectant parents and one young mother. I mean, that's all fine, great ... and everything, but I just can't deal with conversations about babies today. I hope your floor is accepting of outsiders."

"Ha. We're not an exclusive bunch. Have a seat."

He joined me at a small table, sitting across from me. All I could think was that I was happy to be able to look at him for a while. Conversation was all business, but there was something about his gaze. Our eyes just caught each other. I thought I saw him glance at my wedding ring. Then he looked back into my eyes again. His shoe brushed against mine. I pressed into it. Then I pulled away.

After a few minutes, I cleaned up my dish and discarded trash items.

"It was nice seeing you, Mitchell."

"Please, call me Mitch."

"Okay, Mitch. Hope to see you soon."

Did I? Why put myself into this male temptation? I was married. I thought homosexuality was sinful. Why were my defenses evaporating away?

The next week, Mitch parked his car a few spaces from mine. We saw each other as we got out of our vehicles and said hello. As we walked in, he shared some confidential information and leaned in to speak softly. His hand was on my shoulder. My heart started beating faster. That never happened with Natalie. Ever. When he got off the elevator, he turned to me. "See you," he said, turning toward me. As the doors started to close, I saw him looking right into my eyes. That gaze! It was hypnotic.

The next day close to 5 o'clock I found him in my office doorway.

"Hey. If you are about to get out of here, want to go grab a drink?"

"Umm. Probably not. I have my wife and son waiting for me. Dinner will be in about an hour."

"I see," he said, sounding slightly disappointed.

"But. I have a bottle right here in my cabinet. If Jim Beam is fine."

"Sure."

I pulled out a couple of glasses and put them next to my computer. Mitch came around to my side and sat on my desk. It seemed slightly close. I poured us both a drink. He winked at me when I handed it to him. That was just innocent and friendly, surely. I wasn't for sure, but I thought my breathing was getting heavier, raspy.

"Cheers," he said, holding up his glass.

"Cheers," I returned, clinking his glass.

Talk this time wasn't about business. He asked about my home. The family. He asked about Natalie. I said she was fine. She was nice.

"Does she satisfy you?" he softly asked.

"What?"

"Does she give you everything you need?"

"I – I – I ..."

"I'm drawn to you, Cooper. I think you know that."

"I don't know what to say."

"Can I kiss you?"

I didn't answer. I wanted that, I wanted that, I wanted that. I just looked at his eyes. Mitch leaned forward and softly put his lips on mine. If skin were plastic, mine would have melted into dripped globs like candle wax. I pulled back. I stared straight into his eyes. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back to me. The second kiss was longer than the first.

"I ... probably shouldn't do that. I'm ... married ... after all."

"Does she satisfy what you need?"

I couldn't answer again. I just stared into his eyes. I wanted him. I wanted him in my arms. I wanted him in my arms naked. I wanted him in my arms naked in my bed.

He kissed me again. His tongue gently entered my mouth and touched the tip of my tongue. The back of his hand just grazed my crotch. He wanted to know if I was hard. He found out. But his touch — there — caused me a bit of panic.

"I shouldn't be doing this," I whispered. "We should stop. I probably need to go."

"Okay. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

Following dinner I drank more than I ever had. I was already up to two drinks a night. I had been denying everything about myself for months. I drank so my mind wouldn't go to ... those places. That night I got drunk. Natalie was not happy.

I did everything to put that encounter out of my mind the next few days. I prayed. I distracted myself with work. I engaged with activities with Natalie. And I drank.

The next week I went to Mitchell's office at closing time, or at least the time I expected IT people to leave. We spoke so few words. I locked his door behind me. I stared into his eyes for a long time. I moved him into a corner, and then I pressed my lips to his. He accepted it. He put his hands behind my head and sealed the two of us together. We stood there, kissing. Minutes went by. Finally he spoke.

"I want you," he breathlessly uttered. "You have me all hot right this second. Do you know how much I want you?"

I reached down to feel his dick. It felt so hard, and I gripped it tightly through the fabric.

"I can't," I whimpered. Wincing my face in pain, I pushed him back and darted from his office.

I went home to drink. I yelled at both Corey and Natalie that night. It was over nothing. It was really over the fact that I was gay.

 

To: Cooper Snow
From: Mitchell Sanders

Did you still need me to check your printer? I can do that if you are willing to stay a little longer.

 

We had never discussed my printer. I knew it was fine.

 

To: Mitchell Sanders
From: Cooper Snow

Yes. I can stay a little longer if that helps.

 

Mitchell was at my door at 5:15. I had already had two drinks. I was holding nothing back.

"Lock the door, please," I instructed. He did.

"Turn out the lights, please." He did.

My office had one window. I had the blinds down most of the way. A thin amount of daylight seeped through to give us just enough illumination to find each other.

Mitchell was in charge that day. He grabbed my shoulders and we kissed. Deeply. Madly. So intensely we started moaning. It was Friday, we were most likely the only ones left on the floor. My hands reached to hold his sides. As we kissed, I pulled him closer. His hands left my shoulders and worked their way down to my belt. I felt him fumble with it, but seconds later, I heard the snap of it being ripped out of my belt loops and tossed to the floor. Somehow my dick had not torn through the sewn material of my pants. His fingers brushed the protruding bulge as he found the button to my fly. He unzipped me; shoved my pants down a foot and unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of my shirt.

I could feel the open air on my erection as it jutted out into the room.

He groped it while he kissed me further. Magic. I reached to find his. He was ahead of me and was pulling off his belt. Together we orchestrated his pants being opened. Seconds later, his cock was in my hand. His cock. MY hand. How I didn't come at that very second was beyond me. We tugged and pulled on each other's anatomy for a couple of minutes. It was electrifying. I loved feeling him.

"I need you. Are you ready for more?" he asked.

"Yeah," barely formed from my throat.

Dark as it was, I could still see his head sink down to my crotch. His nose nuzzled into my bush and breathed in the scent of my pubes. My God. It was super-sonic. His tongue tasted my balls. I whimpered in approval. Then I felt the moist encasement surround my cock as his mouth devoured it.

"Oh. OH WOW."

He slurped on my rod for several minutes. It felt unbreakable. Even though I was standing, the pleasurable sensations were glorious.

"Do you like it?" he asked me.

"Oh, God, YES."

Two minutes later I was about to climax.

"Mitchell. You've got me almost there. I'm almost there!"

I expected him to pull off. Instead, his hands cupped my ass cheeks and pulled me into his face further. My erection impaled his throat.

"Ungh! Oh, God, I'm coming. Mitchell. Mitchell."

I kept whimpering his name as I unloaded into his awaiting throat. Unknowingly, my fingers had combed themselves into the hair on his head, and I was gripping it between my fingers. The orgasm was extreme. I thought I pumped a lifetime's worth of cum into his mouth. Slowly he pulled off in a tight seal.

"Good?"

"Heavens yes," I enthusiastically confirmed.

He stood and looked into my eyes. Even in the dim lighting they sparkled for me. I could also reach for his dick again. As we kissed, I knew some of the slickness I felt in his mouth was my cum. I never could have imagined this. Never.

"Sometimes when people are finished, they lose their drive. Should we continue?"

His hard cock was restrained in my vise-like grip. "I want to."

"Have you ever sucked a man's cock?"

"No."

"Can I be your first?"

"Without a doubt."

He leaned back on my desk. I knelt before him. I had never done it. I had no idea what to do. But what was there to know? Put your mouth on it, right?

My five senses were in overdrive. I sucked on him for who knows how long. I registered the feel and texture of his erect skin. I tasted the saltiness of his flesh and inhaled the scent of his masculinity. I fondled his balls and groped the base of his shaft. I took in his groans as if I were listening to Mozart. I had no idea how long I sucked this man's organ, but I would have done it for hours if he wanted.

"Coop, I'm about to come."

I had a suspicion that he felt swallowing another man's cum was too much of an indoctrination. He pulled me up and kissed me. I could sense his fist had started pumping his erection.

"Keep kissing me," he breathed into my lips. His other arm gripped my back. My right arm did the same around him. But my free hand cupped the head of his cock. He whispered into my mouth that he was coming. I felt powerful spurts hit my palm. It was warm and sticky and forceful. It dripped from my hand, but I had kept it off our clothes.

Following his climax, I rotated my hand to contain most of it. Mitch reached for a tissue from the box he saw on the corner of my desk.

"Wait." I brought my hand to my face and ran my tongue through it. "I wanted to do that first."

His tongue met mine and we just rubbed his cum between them. Then I felt the tissue hit my palm and he began to wipe his liquid from my skin. Just as he was done, I felt his fingers move across my wedding ring.

 

"Yes, Emory. I know it sounds hypocritical of me. I know I cheated on Natalie. I can make all the excuses of it was me discovering my true self and that wasn't Mitch's case, but ... yeah. I know. I cheated. It hurts."

"I didn't say that to hurt you," Emory said.

"I know. I know. But from time to time, I have to face it. And ... it's not like I'm asking Natalie to take me back either."

"I'm really sorry, Cooper."

"If we are actually delving into this territory — I hate talking about my ... downfall years if you will — my drinking took control. Growing up, alcohol was not anything in our house; it was never seen. None even in college for me. I wasn't one to try to sneak it on campus. You know it was a Christian campus. It just didn't have an allure. It wasn't until my job that I started being around it. Everyone seemed to have a bottle or two in their offices for dealing with clients. I would have a drink from time to time in meetings and ... I liked it. But I still didn't drink that much. I was upfront with it to Natalie. She wasn't a fan."

"How fast did it get bad?"

"Not. I had an occasional drink for a few years — all work related. I developed the taste for it. But it was never heavy. When work got a bit stressful, I would have one at the end of the workday. It wasn't until I started confronting the gay thing that it ramped up."

"Gay thing?" Emory asked for clarification.

"Pressure. I was finding it harder to suppress my male feelings. They were starting to overpower me. I thought a drink would help. Or two. I started drinking at home then. Natalie didn't like it in the house. We didn't argue about it, but we snipped at each other. It ... it just snowballed, Emory. By the time Mitch started flirting with me, Nat and I had drifted some, and I just thought about men more than I had allowed myself to do so before. Alcohol hadn't affected work, but the drinking became part of my everyday routine. It was my attachment to it that took me down the rabbit hole. I wasn't `enjoying' the drink, I used it as a coping mechanism more than anything else. Then ... Mitchell; and I was drunk a lot at that point at home. I yelled. I was drunk almost every day for two months. When I yelled at Corey and pushed him away from me and ..." My voice quivered. "... and ... and I watched him fall and he just turned to look at me in confusion, I ..."

I got quiet; I completely stopped talking. Saliva dripped from my lip and my memories caused me to spiral. I tried to suck the slobber back into my mouth when a tear materialized. I couldn't say anything further.

"Hey, it's okay," Emory said, touching my arm. "That's the past."

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect to go down that far. I just started opening up and ... but at least it has been almost two years sober, with one slipup."

"Right. You're a good dad. I can tell."

"Now. When I can only see him two weekends a month ... now."

"Corey doesn't hold all that against you, does he?"

"No. He and I are great. He's a mature kid for his age. I think so anyway. When we started really clicking, really enjoying each other's company again, a few months after the divorce, he asked me a couple of times if I was ever coming back home. It destroyed me. I knew he wanted his family back together again. I got that. At 11, I couldn't expect him to process everything. It was all very complicated. I eventually introduced him to Mitch. Then he got it. I think as he was getting older and seeing friends get girlfriends and everything, he had a better understanding of who I was."

"He liked Mitch?"

"Loved Mitch. Within a few visits, they really gelled. Mitch would help him with homework. I tried not to have Mitch stay over at first, but after a couple of months, we started doing that. It was all good. Once, after several months, at a function at school one night, Corey introduced him: `He's like my second dad.' We both just wanted to cry. That's after Mitch and I had moved in together." I took a sip of coffee, and my gaze got lost in the table pattern. "I think he still misses Mitch. Man, what some adults put kids through."

Brad warmed up my coffee, which was fine. I was over the Hazelnut flirtation. A full pump was too much. Hot, black coffee was much better. We waved off the pastries this week.

"How about we change the subject?" Emory suggested.

"Good idea."

"Did you see The Brutal Reality when it was in town? It was a play that premiered last year — and it had a gay guy. Now the author is writing another one. It's called Signposts and is going to debut here. Here. In Jackson Bend. A gay play."

"Yeah. Trent's."

"From the radio, yeah."

"Did you see his first one?"

"No. But I heard about it. I heard it was great. But it was sold out before I knew too much about it."

"It was great. I heard about it through Lance in my AA group. Mitch and I went. Very moving. This next one is about Jakob, one of my closer friends."

"How do you know? What friend?"

"Jakob Morgan. He inspired the subject matter for the play. Trent was really moved by his story."

"Wait. You don't know Trent Kyriazi, do you?"

"Yeah."

"From `The Morning Show'?"

"Yeah. Remember the day you spilled coffee on me? He was sitting there with me."

"Get out!! I can't believe you are friends with a radio personality. You fascinate me, Cooper Snow."

"Like I had anything to do with it. Trent's nice. He's a normal guy. I think he got that gig because of lucky timing. I mean, he's great at what he does. He is. With my job, I can't listen to his show too often, but I think he's great on the air. Right place, right time when the previous co-host was stepping away."

"I think Trent has done a lot for the gay community in Jackson Bend. Just ... being present. Of course, it's not The Gay Show or anything, but just representing gay people, having a husband ... we're visible."

"You're not a fan of gay marriage, remember?"

"It's just not for me. I shouldn't pooh-pooh other people for doing so."

"Trent's beard comes and goes. Are you a beard person?"

"Yes. A handsome man is a handsome man. I mean, look at you, you're gorgeous. But I'm not sure a beard would work as well on you."

"And I tried once. It didn't grow in well."

"But a dark-haired man. Yum."

"It's masculine, right? I always liked it when Mitch didn't shave on the weekends. The stubble was sexy. He was only a moustache guy. But he grew a beard for me a few times."

"I can go for moustaches too."

"So what is a turnoff to you, Emory?"

He laughed. "Don't get me started."

He took a sip of coffee and reflected on the question.

"This is a dangerous topic. If you aren't careful, you could accidentally hurt someone."

"I'm impervious," I sarcastically joked.

"Well, man buns are out, obviously."

"Obviously."

He stared at the ceiling in deep thought. "I'm not really wild about beards when they grow down the neck too far. That's ... that's just too unkempt. And lord, don't get me started on guys who spend more time sculpting their hair than they do fixing their dinner. It's like plastic. They could be in a tornado and their house would come out obliterated, but their hair would be `totally fabulous,'" he said in a very sarcastic tone with air quotes. "Ugh."

I laughed. "Your goatee is wonderfully shaped, by the way."

"Thanks," he said with a smile.

"I like men that look like men. Natural men. I find even the average guy next door can be quite alluring sometimes. Dressed up is fine. `Trendy' is a big eye roll for me."

"Oh, I hear ya. I like muscles. Well-toned is great, bulging is too ... too much. It's intimidating, not attractive," he said.

"I'm not a fan of tattoos. They're really popular. But they don't do it for me. Occasionally one looks artistic enough if placed correctly, maybe a band or stripe on an arm. Pictures of anything — snakes, dragons, skulls — don't do it for me. I kind of feel in the minority on that one though."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Uh oh, you probably have a tattoo."

"Actually, no. Back in my day, it wasn't a thing. It has sure taken over though. Very popular."

"I'm not a fan of piercings either. I don't get it."

"I have a ring in my nipple," Emory flatly confessed.

"Oops, sorry."

He chuckled and took no offense.

"Cut or uncut?" he threw out.

"Jeez! Emory! Now we're getting a little specific. That's ... a bit much."

"Okay. No problem."

"Actually, I have no idea. Remember the whole `I suck at being gay' thing? I've never really seen an uncircumcised guy before. A few pictures, I guess. They didn't do anything for me. But I honestly don't know. I have no experience with them."

"They feel a bit different. In some ways it can be fun. But then I see it stretched too far, and I ... I don't know. Everybody has their own things."

"Are you loud?" I asked.

"Huh. That doesn't sound like a preference question," he said.

"It could be."

"Well. If it is about me, I guess I am ... vocal to a certain degree. I mean, I'm not AC/DC, but I can get loud. Loud-ish."

I didn't know what his AC/DC reference meant. I thought it was a hard rock band reference more than an electrical current reference. I didn't know anything by AC/DC. I noticed I had made Emory blush a little by that question.

"If we're talking preference," he continued, "then, yeah, I think a little volume makes it fun."

"We've really gone off in a weird direction today."

"We have." Emory chuckled. "I ... haven't really talked to someone so casually since Gene died. Thanks, Cooper. Sometimes you need to be a bit silly. My friends supported me after he passed. I will still sporadically hear from them. Birthday cards, Christmas cards. An occasional text. But once they knew I was okay, I wondered if they felt awkward around me without me being ... us, a couple."

"You should make time for them. Call them. Meet them."

"You're right. I should."

I took another sip of coffee.

"What about leather?" Emory blurted out.

I about spit my coffee.

"Uhh. I don't know how to answer. I – I – I don't own ... any. Thing. Leather."

He gave me an evil smile.

"Do you find it hot?" he pressed.

"I don't know. I can't say I've had a lot of experience with it. I've seen a picture or two. I guess."

"I can find a black jacket kind of hot. It's not like I'm into slings and assless chaps and things like that."

"Ohhhh, Emory. I don't even know what you're talking about." I put my face in my hands. "I am never going to make it on my own. And who would want me? I don't know anything. ANY THING!" I realized my volume had gotten too loud there. I noticed a couple people turned toward us. I whispered, "I just don't fit in."

"You don't have to be anything other than who you are."

"I can't even tell you what all the letters after LGBTQ are," I whined.

"Oh, please. They add a new one every other month; who can keep up? And don't get me started on pronouns."

I didn't even know what that meant. That worried me even more.

"Cooper. Look at me. There's no test. You don't need to try to be something you're not. Just be you."

"But I'm a joke. I'm totally lost."

"No, you're not. You're a good man. Be fine with just that."

That was kind of him to say, but harder to accept. I had felt like a misfit since I was a kid. I didn't want to go out on dates. In time, it became apparent as to why. But I felt like I had to work hard to make dates. I worked hard to fit into my college courses — in which I did well. I married Natalie to fit into what everyone thought I should do. I tried hard to be a good husband, then a good dad. I messed that up. I was on my own again and still feeling a need to fit in. It would have been nice to believe Emory, but I didn't.

While the visit was nice, my anxiety had me tense. Lance recently gave me advice to exercise. Perhaps I should try to run this afternoon.

Brad stopped by again, but we waved him off. Emory said he needed to go, and I knew I should too.

"Hey, Emory, it's kind of nice to know I get to visit with you on these Sundays. Thanks for listening."

"Likewise. And, Cooper, you encouraged me to reconnect with old friends; I feel you should do the same. Widen your circle. Surely some of those friends you had with Mitch might enjoy seeing you. Or when you were married to Natalie. It will only be awkward for a moment. If they are real friends, they still will be. If not, make new ones."

"Perhaps."

We stood. After we hugged, he kissed me on the cheek. I did the same in return. Wow. That was fairly bold for me. No one in the place even looked at us.

 

—

 

I dialed Trent. I thought I would probably have to leave a message, but he might pick up on a Sunday. He did.

"Hey, Trent. It's Cooper," I said, then receiving acknowledgement from him. "Listen. Lance suggested I do some running, or, well, exercise. He thought it might help work off some stress. I thought it might be a little more enjoyable if I did it with someone. Look at your week. Would you be interested in sharing a jog sometime soon."

"Is today fine?"

"Today? Really? I wouldn't expect that from you on such short notice."

"Actually, Mike is away this weekend for a teacher conference. I was going to do a run later this afternoon. Interested?"

"Sure!"

"You know where we live. How does 3 sound?"

"Wonderful."

I wasn't expecting such a fast response. That worked out well — or so I thought. Trent was a regular runner, I wasn't. I winded easily. Thankfully, he was willing to let us take breaks and walk for intervals. When we did that, I enjoyed our conversations. Although he asked how I was doing, I didn't want to dwell on the whole Mitch situation. I did confess I still wasn't over him, I still loved him. Trent seemed pretty sympathetic.

Amadeus, their dog, joined us on the run. He was a great dog. The two of them had trained him well. I pondered getting a dog for Corey's sake, to make it more enjoyable when he was over. Then I pictured him being home alone all day long and that made me sad. That's pretty typical for any pet owner, but I would have to think on it further. Corey had a turtle when he was six, but he has never pressed either Natalie or me for a pet. I think. I should call her.

I told Trent about Emory's praise that morning. He chuckled and told him to give Emory a thank you in return. We then talked about his work on the new play. Trent seemed excited. How rewarding it must be to have a creative outlet, not to mention fans that loved you for both your work and your personality. If I had to be jealous of someone, it would probably be Trent. He was so kind to spend time with me. We only casually knew each other through Lance. I had been to two of Trent's fall "Friendsgiving" events, but I loved them.

Lance was a great topic of conversation. It was our strongest commonality. Trent shared some stories of them in college. It was funny to hear of Lance's hesitation and resistance to accepting his sexuality. But then again, I remembered his first share in AA. He was in love with Trent at that time. It was funny that those two never became a couple. It seemed perfect. But in the long run, I'm glad they didn't. I couldn't picture them with anyone other than their husbands. Lance and Jakob will always be "Lance and Jakob" to me.

I went silent thinking about other people's view of me. Could they think of me with someone other than Natalie — particularly a man?? I tried not to think on such things. If my family was any indication, I'm sure many of our old friends thought of me as some kind of horrid deviant.

"Cooper, you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I just got lost in thought."

I took a big swallow from my water bottle.

"Trent, was it easy for you to come out? You did it so much earlier than me. Did you worry what other people might think of you?"

"Before I came out, I did. I worried a lot. I didn't think any of my friends would accept me. I knew my family wouldn't. I lived in fear for several weeks. I was to the point that ... that I was a mess. When chance circumstances put me in proximity with Mike, I felt he was safe. He wasn't in my direct circle of friends, he was older, I had little to lose to come out to him. I don't think either of us expected a relationship to form when we started talking. Then I was this horned up kid that pushed myself on him. Jesus. I don't know why he didn't run from me screaming."

"I love how you two got past the age difference."

"You asked if I worried what people thought about me. I worried what people thought about us. Not because we were gay, but that he was so much older. All my friends handled the gay part just fine. Well, Dad was a total dick, but my friends were great. I had needlessly worried that whole time. But I did see the expressions on people's faces when they saw us as a couple. It was tiresome to have to deal with that all the time. But I love my life with Mike. His former partner and he didn't last a year, but the two of us ... we're so happy. It hasn't faded in these past two years. I'm so lucky to have him."

"And he you. I remember all that with Mitch."

"Fuck him for screwing that up," Trent blurted out.

"I just need to widen my circle of friends and move forward."

"Well, you've got Mike and me. Don't hesitate to lean on us."

"Thanks," I told him, and then he started running again. I struggled for breath but managed to keep up fairly well for the last stretch.

 

—

 

"What would you like in a bedroom if you could have it any way you want?" I asked Corey.

"I don't know. I like having a big window. If I had a bigger bed, I could have a friend sleep over from time to time."

"Instead of the pull-out couch?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "A desk and my own computer. My closet at Mom's house is kind of small. A walk-in closet would be great for a lot of my stuff."

"Reasonable requests."

Corey and I went to three developments. One was very put off with customized requests. Another, while pricier, was open to input. The third was in the middle; we couldn't get everything I wanted, but the location was great between Natalie and work.

We looked at a house already built. It was 17 years old, but still in excellent condition. It had several of the things we wanted, but not everything.

"What do you think?" I asked when we got in the car.

"It's okay. It's fine."

"Sounds like you didn't love it."

"It's fine. But ... Dad, this is your money."

"Smart kid."

"What I mean is ... I'm okay with sleeping on the couch a little longer if it means you get the house you really want. It will be yours forever, so that's the most important thing."

"Plus there's a chance for a pool if we go with the one site."

"There's that too," he said with a smile.

 

—

 

"Do you miss Corey's programs from elementary school?" I asked Natalie.

"Ohhh, yes. They were so cute."

We were seated in the middle school auditorium. It was the final choir performance of the school year. Natalie and I were seated on the fourth row. A few old friends stopped by to say hello to us. I enjoyed seeing some old faces, but I could all but wipe the awkwardness off of their skin. No one knew what to say when they saw us together. I was just pleased Nat and I were in a good place and could actually sit side by side. The first year after the divorce was fairly cold. None of those friends made any effort to talk to me following the split. I'm sure I was perceived as the "bad guy" in the separation. Natalie spoke of how little she saw any of them. I imagined she felt fairly deserted too. Afterall, who wanted to spend time with a newly divorced woman whose husband turned out to be gay? The initial conversations had to be so uncomfortable that no one really reached out. She had a couple of true friends, but Natalie felt a lot of the same things I did.

The program was strong. Mrs. Martindale typically orchestrated a diverse program of choral songs, pop music and something unusual but engaging. The choral numbers had incredible harmonization; my favorite moments were when the various sections of the choir sang in overlapping lyrics. The sound was magnificent. The two pop numbers were "A Sky Full of Stars" by Coldplay and "This is Me" from The Greatest Showman. The latter had always been a big favorite of mine. The pop numbers were most likely inserted to give parents something relatable to enjoy, but the whole program was exquisite.

I watched Corey. He enjoyed this; I could tell. Looking at his fellow classmates, Corey was not the shortest, but probably a little below average. He seemed a tad short to me, but of course, there was 8th grade in there too, so that wouldn't be unusual. Corey wasn't an athlete. He didn't shy away from sports but just wasn't drawn to them. He liked intellectual things. He did well in Chess Club and threw himself into Choir. Those weren't the extracurricular activities that necessarily made you the most popular kid in school. Still, I loved hearing that several of the football team were in the choir, so it certainly wasn't a belittled activity. Corey already had enough gunpowder to bear with having a gay dad, I certainly didn't want him to have to be teased for being in the less-than-cool clubs and being a little short.

The final number was an oldie, but one that everyone loved: "Hallelujah." They sounded extraordinary. Mrs. Martindale brought out the best of them. As good as it was, nothing was going to top "Bohemian Rhapsody" in Natalie's eyes. That had been last semester's real crowd pleaser.

Following the performance, I went up to congratulate Mrs. Martindale and shower her with praise. It was a great evening. When I returned, Natalie had an odd look in her eye.

"We are apparently guilted into going out for sundaes with Corey's friends in the choir."

I laughed.

"He has asked if you could come with us."

"Um. The three of us together? Wow. Sure. If you're okay with that."

"I'm okay." She gave a simple smile.

We had not done any family things in public — at least outside of school — in ages, if ever. It's funny how sundaes were suddenly huge, earth-shattering events.

"You know we'll be ditched to sit with his friends, don't you? Don't get your hopes up."

Again, I laughed.

Ice cream shops aren't known for their vast size, and Caramel Moo was no exception. The choir and chaperones truly mobbed the place. Some parents clustered together while students gathered into a massive heap of sequined black outfits, dairy products and vocal chords. Randomly, students would carry their sundae over to their parents to talk a moment to at least acknowledge their presence. Most were kind enough to offer a basic thank you.

Corey came over a second time to say Tre's father was taking a few of them to play laser tag and had invited Corey to join them.

"Please, Mom?"

"How late?"

"Not too late; they are leaving in a few minutes."

"Glad I got to visit with you, Son," I jested.

"Your father did join us, Corey," Natalie said, slathering on a touch of guilt.

Corey looked at me, feeling kind of bad asking if I could come and then blowing me off. I could see the conflict on his face.

"Far be it from me to come between a star lord and his laser tag."

"Thanks, Dad," he smiled back. But I knew he still thought I was hurt a bit.

"As long as you are home by 10. Confirm that before you leave."

"Okay, Mom. Thanks," he said before darting back to the group.

We saw them whoof down the rest of their sundaes. After they departed, a few others did as well. The table of parents was less occupied, and Natalie and I were alone at one end.

"Obviously, you don't need to stick around," she said to me.

"I'm enjoying my sundae. And to be honest, it's kind of nice to sit and visit with you."

"Oh? You're not wanting to get away from the ex?"

"Never. I hope I've never given you that impression." I swallowed another bite. "I went through a ton of emotions in the divorce. A TON! Most of them bad. I hated that I hurt you. No matter what I came to realize, I ... I never thought a single bad thing about you. Only that I was hurting you. I just couldn't deceive you anymore. Or myself."

Natalie set her spoon down and folded her hands. "That first year I did feel betrayed. Lied to. Cheated. After a few months — and after a little reading — my feelings churned less. It dawned on me one night how hard all that must have been for you. I knew both of us went through a lot."

"And that alcohol was my chosen solution was my biggest mistake."

"Right."

"I'm so sorry, Nat."

"You've apologized enough to me. I know you have your own path to follow."

"I hope you know you were a nice part of it."

"For a while." Natalie dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin. "It's been a few months since you and Mitch broke up. How are you feeling?"

"Alone."

"I can relate."

"Right. I kind of think I'm always going to be alone."

"You are as good looking as ever, Cooper. I'm sure you can meet someone."

"Looks. That means nothing. Natalie, I came out so late, I just feel like I don't mesh with the gay world. At all."

"They're all exactly alike?"

"Well, I suppose not. I just don't know who would be interested in someone so ... adrift like me. Not to mention, I have a son."

"Those things could apply to me. Do you think I have to be alone my whole life?"

"No, of course not. You're wonderful."

"I have a son, I'm divorced, I don't sleep around, I don't dance ..."

"Don't kid yourself. You're a great catch."

Natalie smiled at me. She ate a spoonful of strawberry topping off the corner of my sundae; she had ordered caramel. It felt good for me to treat all of us.

"Sunday is Mother's Day. I assume you still want to spend it with Corey. I'm totally fine flipping the week if you wish to just pamper yourself."

"No. I feel it is more for Corey at this point. But I plan to take the two of us to my mom's. Will you see your mother?"

"Unfortunately."

"Cooper!!"

"Ugh. Since the divorce, I'm kind of a black sheep."

"Knowing your family how I do, I bet that's right. Let me guess, Judith is the worst."

"Bingo. Well, Anita is the ice queen, but she always was — and she is not immediate family."

"Close enough. Please send my regards to them."

We were silent a minute. Eventually we both looked up and stared into each other's eyes.

"Hey, Nat. Even though I'm gay — and I fully accept that — always know a part of me will still love you. Not like what you deserve — love to the fullest — but love nonetheless."

"I probably feel the same. Once everything came into focus. It just took time."

"Thanks for letting me come."

We stood and hugged. I kissed her on the cheek. Maybe that might be a new thing with me.

 

—

 

"I had a really pleasant evening with my ex."

"Ex ...?" Emory asked for clarification.

"Ex-wife."

"Good. I guess, right?"

"Absolutely. Relations were pretty strained following the divorce, but we saw each other when I picked Corey up. Over time, I think wounds have started to heal. I feel she knows I had gone through something very hard too."

"That's nice. Gay or straight, that's not always the case with divorced couples."

"So, what's been going on with you?"

"It's only been a week, so it's not like I whipped up a European trip or anything."

I chuckled.

"But I did follow your advice, Cooper. I texted a couple of old friends and they immediately responded. One called me back right away. The other texted back and invited me over for dinner Saturday. Thank you for the nudge."

"Wonderful."

"I've started running every other day. You'll be happy to know I jogged with Trent the first time and I passed along your kind words to him."

Emory sat up and smiled, almost beaming like he was associated with a celebrity. I've never thought of Trent that way. I guess because I was introduced to him before he ever went on the air.

"Sometimes I do it alone, but I'm meeting Mike and Trent Tuesday for a run."

"Nice. I think the two of us just need more friends in our lives."

"Agreed. Sadly, I'm going to have to leave fairly quickly today. I want to get a run in before the brunch with my mother."

"That sounds nice."

"Sounds is the right word. Hopefully, it won't be too excruciating. I don't look forward to family visits anymore. One on one with parents is fine, but family shindigs are ... just not fun."

"Well, good luck with that."

"Is your mother still around?"

"Oh no, I lost her about eight years ago. Both my parents are dead. Mom was 86, and Dad was 80. I felt they both lived fairly long lives."

"Sure. I'm sorry. Is Mother's Day tough for you?"

"No. No worse than any other day anyways. Remember, it was a different time. I came out to my parents when I was 20. The early `80s. Gay people were slowly becoming more known, but it still wasn't a big `proud' moment for any parent. It took them probably close to ten years to fully accept me. But they did. I introduced them to all my boyfriends. When Gene and I really settled down, they loved him."

"How many boyfriends do you think you had?"

"Enough," Emory deflected.

My family hardly even accepted Mitch. Could I ever introduce them to someone new? Of course, it didn't matter. I was going to die alone.

 

"Hi, everyone. I'd like you to meet Mitch. He's my boyfriend." There wasn't a single response. I felt obligated to keep conversation going. "We're moving into a new apartment next month."

"Wow. That was fast," said Judith.

"It's been five months. We feel we're ready. The time is right."

"Right for ...?"

"For the two of us to commit to being together."

"Hmm." Judith made a sucky first impression.

Thankfully, my parents extended their hands and welcomed Mitchell. It wasn't particularly warm, but at least cordial. It was the day after Thanksgiving. I had met Mitch's family in October. They were incredible. I loved them immediately. This reception was much more tepid. Curtis and Anita simply said "hello" from across the room — and stayed there. I introduced them so that Mitch would know who was who. Wayne walked into the room coming from the bathroom. Judith introduced him.

We sat around eating leftover pumpkin and cherry pies. I could see their eyes putting Mitch under a microscope. What kind of deviant was he? What perverted things had he and I done? Did he convert me? Was he a rapist?

I knew Mitch didn't feel welcome, but at least he held himself well and remained very polite. I looked at him when he spoke. How could they not see how handsome and wonderful he was? Mitch had a sexual allure. Not that I felt it in front of my parents, but even watching him in conversation, he was hot. I wondered if Anita and Judith thought so.

Mitchell began to excuse himself after about an hour. That's all I had wanted him to stay. I just wanted to introduce him to my family. As we stood and started moving toward the door, Mitch put his arm around me. He often did that. In front of my parents I thought it had the impact of a blowhorn on a seafaring vessel. I almost became panicky.

Mitch said his goodbye to the room. "Nice to meet you," he said (or lied).

And how many family members returned that phrase? Absolutely zero. Not one person in my family said it back. Two of them offered, "Happy Thanksgiving."

I walked him out to his car.

"Not the same as your family, huh?"

"Give them time, Cooper. A gay family member is new to them. It will get better."

"I hope," I said, giving him a hug. Then I gave him a simple kiss. As I turned back to walk in, I noticed Anita looking from the window.

Later that afternoon, I was near Judith and Anita. I softly asked, "Mitch is pretty handsome, isn't he?"

"Don't be vulgar," Anita said and turned to walk away and into the kitchen.

 

"As a reminder, I flipped a week with Natalie because of Mother's Day. I'll have Corey two weeks in a row. I didn't want you to think I blew you off," I told Emory as I prepared to leave.

For the first time, we exchanged numbers in case we ever needed to text a message.

He stood. We hugged. We kissed on the cheek.

 

—

 

I had barely enough time to shower following the run. I was about five minutes late to the brunch, but that was not too bad. Once inside Mom's house, I dropped my card on the table with the others. I wished her Happy Mother's Day and gave her a hug. Then I hugged my father.

As family visits go, this one was not too bad. I didn't feel attacked or scorned at any point. The food was great. I had brought a cheesecake. Strawberry was Mom's favorite. All the food was delicious. Everyone admitted that they had eaten too much, but we agreed it was much better than attempting to go out to a crowded restaurant.

As we sat around the room, I recalled my evening with Natalie and relayed her warm wishes to everyone. I expected someone to scoff at that — or at me for ruining everything. But it brought smiles. A couple said to send regards in return.

"I hate to be that parent, but Corey's final performance was wonderful. Would you like to see part of it?"

They agreed. Curtis and Anita's son was really interested. I think he missed having Corey at these gatherings.

I powered up my tablet and then set it to cast to my parents' television. I had only intended to show bits of it, but to my surprise, they wanted to see all of it. The choir really was terrific, so the performance was easy to watch. It wasn't just an indulgence of an overly proud parent. Another plus was that in doing so, we didn't have to have any conversation for 30 minutes.

My siblings and I had gone in together to get Mom a new computer. She was thrilled with the gifts. And, like always, we watched her open cards one at a time and then she passed them around. They were all warm and mushy. No one in my family really gave out humorous cards.

When I got into my car, I breathed out a huge "whew," like I had somehow escaped an epic disaster. Survival was fairly easy on this visit. I was grateful.

 

—

 

I pulled into Wilson's Market just to grab a few grocery items before the work week started.

As I threw the last of my items in the basket, I turned the cart toward checkout. I almost bumped my cart into another woman. We were both startled.

"Cooper?"

I looked up. It was Mitchell's mother.

"Mom. I mean, Mrs. Sanders ... Glenda. Hi."

"I don't mind if you call me Mom."

The two of us stood and stared at each other. It was equal parts awkward and delightful.

"It's nice to see you," I said.

"Same here. I miss you, Cooper."

"Well, thanks."

"I know it is ... a lot. I'm not getting involved. But as complicated as it all is, Mitchell misses you very much. I know it is a mother's love toward her son, but ... I loved the two of you together."

"I ... I loved us together too," I said before I could stop myself.

I'm sure my expression conveyed the pain that I had felt. She knew not to push further.

"How was your Mother's Day?" I simply asked.

"Good. I had all my kids with me. So ... very appropriate. It was nice." She shifted her weight feeling uncomfortable. "The family still speaks kindly of you."

"That's sweet. Thanks."

We had nothing further to say, but having not seen each other in months, it was hard to just step away.

"Well, I ..." I started.

"Can I give you a hug?" she asked.

I nodded.

We held each other for a long time. She didn't want to let go. I don't know if I really did either. It felt good.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I miss you," she softly said by my ear.

I squeezed her tighter.

"Well, Happy Mother's Day," I said, letting go. I kissed her on the cheek and slowly moved toward checkout. I turned back. "Glenda?" She looked. "You're a good mom." We both smiled.

After having put the groceries away, I sat on the couch. It had been a full day. I had no energy to really do anything. I gave Corey a call to see if he had enjoyed his day with his grandmother. He said it went well. I told him I showed his performance to my family and that they thought it was awesome. I thought he was pleased to hear that. It wasn't a long call, just Dad checking in.

I grabbed a flavored seltzer from the fridge.

I contemplated the extra load on my plate at work this week. I started to compartmentalize the tasks ahead. But thoughts of work quickly became wisps that disappeared into the ether of my more prevalent thoughts, which drifted back to family.

I picked up my phone again.

"You're a good mom. Happy Mother's Day," I texted.

An immediate reply came back. "Thanks, Cooper." Natalie added a smiley emoji.

 

* * * *

 

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