Donations matter. Please consider supporting the Nifty service: https://donate.nifty.org/
As autumn begins to wind down Cooper's year, his story intensifies. For those who are enjoying this work, I hope Coffee at 9 continues to be a rewarding read. I've enjoyed hearing from many of you. Communication with an author means something, so know you are appreciated.
October
Mitch had stopped in my office to ask if I could join him
for a movie that evening. It was a Tuesday night; I was free. He was all
excited about this new film: Bros.
"This is like a big thing," he said. "All the gay characters
are played by gay people instead of straight people. All the main characters!
And it's being done by a major studio. This is a big deal for our community!"
"Okay."
We walked out of the theater at 9:40.
"So? What did you think?" he egged on.
"Um. I'm not sure."
"Really? I heard you laugh a few times."
"Yeah. Yeah." I thought on it. My opinion hadn't gelled, and
I wasn't sure why. "Parts were funny, and there was a sweet story in there, but
..." I hesitated. "... didn't you think the main guy was sort of a jerk?"
"Billy Eichner? Well, I guess that is the personality he is
known for. He co-wrote it, so he probably wrote to what he knows."
"Yeah."
I was quiet on the car ride home. Once in Mitch's house, I
sat on the couch. I didn't turn the television on. I just stared into the blank
middle space.
He sat beside me. "Hey. You okay?"
"I don't know. That movie ... I don't know."
"Cooper, it was just a movie. It was just fun."
"A lot of people laughed, yes."
"Right."
"The theater was mostly gay men."
"Sure. They were happy that our people were seen. We
typically aren't seen like that in film."
"We were seen?"
"Yes. There was so much representation. We were visible."
"I wasn't visible," I mumbled.
"Huh?"
"I wasn't visible!"
"Wha-? Cooper..."
"I wasn't visible. I wasn't represented."
"What are you talking about?"
"Wasn't the point of this whole groundbreaking film that
typical straight people can see who we are?"
`Um..." Mitchell didn't know what to say.
"I would have been mortified if my family had been with us."
"Oh?"
"The characters in that film were ... everything they
stereotype gays ... me ... as. One night stands, shirtless bars, reckless sex,
drugs, snarky, sassy. Is that who we are?"
"Cooper, you're letting this get to you. That movie was New
York. Jackson Bend isn't New York."
"Is that who I'm supposed to be? I'm ... I'm not that. I
believe in love. Billy didn't. He said gay people don't love like straight
people do. Do you think that's right? Is our love different?"
"I don't know. Maybe a little."
"How? Your father loves your mother. Is your love not equal
to that?"
"Of course it is. I love you with all my heart."
"I thought so too. Then ... then this moooovie
makes me think I'm supposed to think different."
"No. Honey. It was just a movie. That's all. They fell in
love, didn't they?"
"He sang `Love Isn't
Love.' I didn't understand. I ... I don't fit in."
"Hey. Hey." Mitch gently grabbed my wrists. "C'mon. Let's go
to the bedroom."
He led me by the arm. The two of us began to disrobe without
saying anything. I brushed my teeth. He came in behind me and did the same. No
conversation.
Mitch slipped into the sheets in his boxers and a T-shirt.
Only the bedside lamp was on. Following a film filled with hot, shirtless guys,
one would think sex would be an automatic. I was still in my funk. I sat at the
edge of the bed.
"Coop?"
I didn't answer.
"Cooper. What's wrong??"
"I don't belong."
"What?"
"Look at the audience tonight. Look at the film! It was like
every version of a gay person was in it all the letters were in it except
me. I don't fit."
"Fit what?"
"In this world!" I snapped. "There were guys in shirtless
clubs and in `thruples' and snorting drugs and ..."
"Cooper..."
"... and taking steroids and on sex apps ..."
"Cooper."
"... and sleeping with strangers and being mean to each
other..."
"Cooper! Look at me."
"... and asking your boyfriend if you can sleep with someone
else..."
Mitch went quiet. I turned to him. He went pale.
"Is ... is this about me?"
"No! It's about me. Stupid me. Oddball me."
I felt like my face
morphed into that of a mourner. I felt alone. I felt adrift like I hadn't in
months. "I'm not any of those people. Is that what gay people are supposed to
be? I don't belong. I don't know where I belong in the world," I sniffed. I was
on the verge of tears.
"I do." Mitch looked at me directly. "You belong with me. We
belong together." He kissed me on the lips.
He turned out the light. "Come into my arms."
I rolled into his embrace. He kissed the back of my neck. "I
love you. You belong."
As nice as it was to hear him say that,
I didn't feel better. He held me tight.
In the darkness he softly said a minute later, "If it really
bothers you, I have a friend you could go talk to. You know, professionally."
I didn't respond. I just cocooned in his arms, lost in my
stupid, crappy world I created for myself. I could tell he drifted off within a
few minutes. It was the first night we slept together and didn't have sex since
the breakup. Despite his loving words, my mind spiraled. I didn't fit this
stupid mold I was shown. Even in Mitch's arms I felt alone. Mitch was my link
to the gay world. Without him I felt like a lost child. I felt like a failure
for some reason.
It took me an hour to fall asleep.
Brad asked Corey if he could top off his coffee. My son
nodded.
"Here you go, munchkin," Brad said pleasantly while warming
up Corey's mug.
"I'm not a munchkin," Corey said defensively but still
politely.
"Sorry, tiger," Brad returned.
"My name is Corey," my son said in a matter-of-fact tone.
The rest of us chuckled.
"Yes sir!" Brad called back to Corey. Then winked. The two
liked each other.
Corey had accented his coffee with an Irish Cream flavor. It
was now diluted some, but Corey was fine with that. Mine was black. Emory's had
sugar in it.
A text came in. Laramie was unable to join us but asked if
he and I could do dinner that evening. I replied that was fine, but I wasn't
dropping Corey off at Natalie's until 7. He was okay with a late start.
Corey stepped away to go to the men's room.
"Guess what? My birthday is Thursday. I'm telling Mitchell
that I am 100 percent committed to our relationship again. I am exclusive
again."
"So, you've been able to forgive him then?" Emory asked.
"Forgive? I guess. Forget? No. But I just have to allow him
to be human. I still can't forget walking in on them, but ... I really do love
Mitchell."
"Then that's all that matters. You can make it work."
"I hope."
"You've been there before. Does this make you nervous?"
"A little. I just know we will never be perfect. But that's
a stupid thing to expect, isn't it?"
"Perfection and faithfulness are two different things. If
you trust Mitchell, you're good."
Did I? Mitchell had been spot-on ideal since we started
seeing each other again. But would I always have a question in the back of my
mind? "Wow," I thought. How many married couples have gone through this
self-doubt.
"So, I guess that rules out another romp in the bed between
the two of us," Emory said sarcastically.
That snapped me out of my hypnotic thoughts, and I gave him
a "WTF!?" look. He laughed at my expression.
"I was just kidding. I knew that was a one-time thing and
a special gift to me."
"It did help me grow. In a way. I guess," I muttered, even
though my body language was still draped in regret.
"Does Corey know you are making this commitment to Mitch?"
he asked.
"No. I haven't mentioned it. Once Mitchell and I have our
discussion and it's all good then I will fill Corey in. Now I just have to
decide about living arrangements. Mitchell has his lease through December. If
we really are going to be a family, then I should plan on him living in the new
house after that. But ... dang it, I'm being a bit selfish. I want the house to
be MY house for at least a couple months."
"That's fair. It is your money after all. He could go
month-to-month for a little while."
I saw Corey exit the bathroom. He bumped into Brad. The two
of them talked a moment, then hugged. I didn't know what the conversation was
about, but those two seemed to be fast friends. Corey was very comfortable
among the gay environment of Joe nonthreatening as it is. He rejoined us and
took another sip of coffee.
"I feel like I should get you something for your birthday,"
Emory said.
"You could splurge on a cinnamon roll."
"I'm serious, Cooper."
"You're sweet, but that's not necessary. My job is going
well and as long as I have Corey and a new house, life is good."
"And you have Mitchell, too," Corey said.
"Right."
Being a family again would be nice. I could tell Corey
enjoyed seeing Mitchell and me happy again. What child doesn't want to see his
or her parents happy? As Corey was an only child, he was more in tune with the
adult world.
"So what birthday plans do you have for your dad, Corey?"
Emory asked.
"Umm. I'm at Mom's, so I won't see Dad for a couple weeks."
"Actually, your mother invited me over for lunch next week,"
I said.
"Cool," Corey replied.
"And I believe her new boyfriend is going to be there."
"Oooo," Emory commented. "Big step."
"He's nice," Corey said. "I haven't spent a lot of time with
him, but he seems like a nice enough guy."
"I'm happy for your mother," I said.
I pulled up to Laramie's house at 7:40. He was out front
pulling some things into the garage in the last moments of fading dusk. I was
wondering how he could even see what he was doing. He happened to be wearing a
baseball cap again, which I curiously thought made him more attractive.
"Hey there. Right on time," he said as I got out of the car.
We briefly hugged. I could smell the sweat on him. He must
have been working most of the day. He turned his cap around backward and gave
me kiss on the cheek. It baffled me why I thought that looked so hot on a guy.
But it did. Laramie was hot. Hot and sweaty and masculine. It was unexpected
that my mind went there, but I wasn't blind. Or dead.
"Come on in," he welcomed. "I'm sorry. I wanted to get so
much done today. I was hoping to be done around 6 and be ready to go. Is it
okay if I hop in the shower real quick?"
"Sure."
He disappeared into his bedroom. The door was ajar, and I
could hear the water starting faintly in the bathroom.
I looked around the living room. It wasn't my first time
there, but I had spent very little time in Laramie's house. It was a small
three-bedroom house. I poked my head into one of the bedrooms. It was quite
small but perfect for an office, which is what he made it into. The other one
looked more of a guest room. A full bed took up a lot of space in its
restricted dimensions, but the room was nice. Some boxes storing unknown items
were stacked along one wall. As I returned to the living room, I continued to
scan the furnishings. The couch looked a couple decades old. Not necessarily
tattered, but "lived in."
The artwork on the wall was an eclectic hodgepodge. There
was a traditional painting a landscape that didn't seem to necessarily go
with anything. It looked like something you'd buy at a hobby/home dιcor store.
There were a few family pictures (I assumed). Considering the relationship he
had with his parents, I was almost surprised he displayed them. In a total contrast,
there was a wall-hanging made of wood. As artistic pieces go, it was very
modern and the finish on it was beautiful. There was a wood carving of a boy
with a cow. It intrigued me, but I knew he did have farming roots.
The kitchen counter was littered with a few wrappers, dirty
dishes and silverware. A couple of bowls had water in them in the sink. It was
far from messy, but it had the look of someone who lived alone and had the
freedom to not have to be neat for anyone else. The dining set was extraordinary.
The table and chairs were beautifully crafted. Rich cherry wood was stained
beautifully. Navy blue cushions added the right elegance.
As we would be leaving shortly, I felt it a good idea to pee
first. The bathroom was in nice shape. As Laramie had his own off the master
bedroom, he probably rarely used this one. It seemed clean. Decorations were
simple and had a farm motif, which I assume reminded him of the home where he
grew up. Again, slightly odd that he would still embrace that. Considering...
After washing my hands, the toilet was making its last
gurgling sounds of refilling. As I opened the door, Laramie called out, "I'll
be ready in a minute." Turning toward his voice, I saw his body move past the
doorway completely naked. As he paused, I momentarily could see his ass. Very
cute. I wished I had been able to see his front.
How DID I make it all those years and not think I was
gay??!!
A moment later, Laramie came out into the living room with
me. He had slipped on a Kansas City Chiefs T-shirt and briefs. He had a pair of
shorts in his hand. I tried not to look at the bulge in his underwear that
stuck out below the shirt.
"Are burgers okay?" he asked. "I
feel like a shorts-and-T-shirt night."
"Fine with me. We can take my car."
He finished dressing in front of me and returned to the
bedroom only for his shoes and wallet.
Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of Jakes. I was
surprised to see so many college kids there, but it really wasn't far from
campus, so it shouldn't have been that unusual. At Jake's one orders at the
counter and listens for a number to be called.
Laramie politely asked if it was okay if he ordered a beer.
That was sweet, but I thought we had made it past that point.
"Thanks. After today I was just craving one."
We scarfed down our food as if we had been on a deserted
island for days. It wasn't like I hadn't had lunch, but the smell of a juicy,
bacon cheeseburger was intoxicating. Between swallows, he told me a little of
what he had accomplished during the day.
"Oh, I'm finished in your house, but the crew still has a
few weeks to go. There's still a lot to be done. Then the flooring, of course."
"I was told I would be able to move in by the end of
the month," I quickly said. "I went month-to-month on my apartment lease after
six months. I really want to be out by the end of this month."
"You should be," he said. "I don't think there are any
problems. Not that I'm on the main crew, but I haven't heard anyone say
anything."
I grabbed a pair of fries and dragged them through a puddle
of ketchup. The remaining pile reminded me of the wall hanging in his living
room for just a moment.
"You have an interesting piece of art in your living room,"
I said. "It's made of wood."
"Oh. Yeah. I made that a couple years ago. An old boyfriend
saw something like it at a hotel we were staying at. He encouraged me to make
something like it. I knew I could. I really poured myself into the sanding and
finishing."
"It's beautiful."
"Thanks. The whole living room is a little odd, but ..."
It seemed like there was more to the sentence. Laramie
didn't finish.
"...but?"
"Eh. I live alone. It's not like it has to look good for
anyone."
"Laramie Jenkins! You should do things for yourself as
well."
"That was more the kitchen table."
"Your work as well?"
"Yep."
"It's really nice. REALLY nice."
"Thanks. Again."
Both of us finished our food. I got up to refill my Dr.
Pepper. He went to the counter to get another beer.
In a momentary lull in conversation we sheepishly looked at
each other, neither knowing what topic to start.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked me to tell you another
secret about myself," I said with a smile.
"Oh. I think we've probably covered all that. Heaven knows
you are probably tired of hearing of all my shit." He looked at me. "I'm sorry.
You don't cuss, do you? I shouldn't just naturally do that around people."
"As long as Corey isn't with me. I am older than you,
y'know. I'm an adult. I actually turn 39 Thursday."
"Oh, nice! I would offer you dinner, but I am sure you are
spending it with Mitchell. Had I known, I would have paid the tab tonight."
"You don't have to do anything at all. I'm not a huge
birthday person."
"I'll pay next time."
"Whatever. Fine. Sure. You're sweet."
I saw the smallest smile curl at his lips when I said that.
I wondered how often he heard compliments. Surely people complimented him on
his woodwork.
"Well, I guess my news is that I am going to fully commit to
Mitchell on my birthday. Exclusive and all. We'll work toward being a family
again."
"That's good," he said with words, even if his expression
didn't.
"That was unenthusiastic. Do you think I'm making a
mistake?"
"No! No, of course not. I know you love Mitchell. It's good
that you worked through all the ... stuff."
I could tell his feelings didn't honestly match his words,
but it seemed pointless to argue. I knew it wasn't a mistake. I loved Mitchell.
He deserved more from me than I had given him these past two months.
I tried to turn the conversation to something more fun.
"So. No more secrets to share."
He didn't answer. Laramie's mood seemed to have changed, but
I couldn't figure where we went off track.
"Nah. Just one. But we won't go there. I can't ... I don't
want to say anything."
"Oh. Okay. No problem. I was just being silly. No big deal."
Trying to bring things up a notch, he asked about Corey and
how he was doing in school this year. Our spirits became lighter. Things seemed
good.
"I really would love to treat you to a birthday dinner if I
could this week," he said as we got up from the table. "One night you and
Mitchell don't have plans."
As I pulled into his driveway, I got out of the car to give
him a hug before leaving. Oddly, he walked toward the front door and said, "I
enjoyed it" and waved. There was no intention of a kiss on the cheek or a hug
or anything. We had become good friends, so that just struck me as out of
character for him.
"Hey!' I said. He turned. "Hug?"
He gave me a smile and walked into my open arms. I held him
a moment, and I felt him squeeze me tightly.
"Hope your birthday is wonderful," he said, letting go.
Mitchell and I had enjoyed lunch together on Monday, but he
had a meeting Tuesday, and I did on Wednesday. My Wednesday night AA friends
offered early birthday wishes the night before. I got off the elevator on
Mitch's floor. The receptionist was talking to a friend who had her back to me.
They were giggling.
"That FedEx guy is sooo hot. What a hunk."
"I know. Steamy. But ... I think he's gay."
"Helloooo, ladies," I said, making
them aware of my presence.
"Oh, hi, Cooper. Mitchell says it's your birthday. Happy
birthday," said the receptionist.
Their expressions conveyed that they were worried that they
somehow might have offended me by their "gay" comments. I politely smiled and
said, "Thank you."
The whole building knew I was gay. I wouldn't have been
offended by that. Not now. Three years ago, who knows what I might have felt.
I'm sure any gay comments would have made me go for a bottle. Of something.
"Hello, baby!" Mitchell beamed as I walked into the room.
"Let's talk about where you would like to go tonight."
"I'm pretty open. I'm sort of craving seafood. I haven't had
that in a while. Is that okay?"
"Absolutely."
"Not too pricey?"
"I hardly think so. Long John Silver's isn't that bad."
I laughed out loud, and he joined me.
We began spreading out our lunches on his desk. I pulled up
a chair.
"You have napkins in your cabinet, right?"
"Yeah. And grab me a fork too."
I opened the cabinet door and began reaching for the items
we needed. I heard a knock on the frame of the doorway to Mitchell's office.
"Hey there, handsome. We haven't talked in a while. How have
you been?"
I was confused.
"Oh. Derek. Hello. I'm fine. I've ... uh, been good."
I closed the cabinet door. I could see who was standing
there.
It was him. Him!
The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the
meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I
slid the documents into my attachι. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There
was construction work going on in the street below, but a sound I heard seemed
like it was from the apartment. We hadn't left the TV on, had we?
As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was
moaning. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?
The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches.
Mitchell was panting. He was on his back in our bed. His
eyes were closed. His dick was pushed up inside the ass of some stranger. The
man was handsome. His hair was a sandy red. The pubic hair that I saw on the
bobbing crotch matched his chest and head. His bush was hairy and masculine. A
huge cock jutted from the mass of hair. It was almost erect. It was certainly
long. The dick bounced and waved as he leaned back on his stiff arms. The man's
head was tilted back, and he moaned as Mitchell continued to fuck him.
I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500.
No. NO! It can't be. Not him. Not on my birthday. Seriously?
He was a FedEx guy??
As I closed the cabinet, the gentleman became aware of my
presence in the room. It momentarily startled him.
"Oh! Hi. I didn't realize you had company Mitch. Hi, I'm
Derek," he said glancing at me for a second.
Of course you were. Derek. It just sounded like the name of
a guy who has a big dick.
The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the
meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I
slid the documents into my attachι. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There
was construction work going on in the street below, but a sound I heard seemed
like it was from the apartment. My head turned to identify what it could be or
where it was coming from. It was the bedroom. We hadn't left the TV on, had we?
As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was
moaning. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?
The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches.
Mitchell was panting. His eyes were closed. He was his
quiet self, but his breathing was heavy. I knew from that sound that he had
been fucking for a few minutes and was getting close. He was on his back in our
bed. His dick was pushed up inside the ass of Derek. Derek was handsome. Derek's
hair was a sandy red. The pubic hair that I saw on the bobbing crotch matched
his chest and head. His bush was hairy and masculine. A huge cock jutted from
the mass of hair. It was almost erect. It was certainly long. Derek's dick
bounced and waved as he leaned back on his stiff arms. Derek's head was tilted
back, and he moaned as Mitchell continued to fuck him.
I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500.
"Fuck!" I yelled out.
"Didn't mean to interrupt," Derek said to Mitchell. "Hey,
give me a holler some time if you want."
With that, he ducked out of the doorway and made his way
back to the elevator.
Mitchell froze. His eyes glazed over staring at me like deer
in headlights.
"Cooper! I ..."
"Really!!? The FedEx guy?!"
I could tell my face was red. It became flushed as I
sputtered out any words to say. It was like a thousand needles pricked the
surface of my skin everywhere on my body. Like facing an accused killer of a
family member, my body shut down and was filled with rage at the same time.
"Fuck!" I said.
The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the
meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I
slid the documents into my attachι. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There
was construction work going on in the street below, but an unusual sound I
heard seemed like it was from our apartment. My head turned to identify what it
could be or where it was coming from. It was the bedroom. We hadn't left the TV
on, had we? I was sure I had turned it off before leaving, so what was that?
As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was
moaning. Sexual moaning. The rhythm of the moans were those of someone being
fucked. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?
The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches.
Two figures came into my view.
Mitchell was panting. His eyes were closed. He was his
quiet self, but his breathing was heavy. I typically found this sexy as it was
Mitch's audible response to our lovemaking. I knew from that sound that he had
been fucking for a few minutes and was getting close. He was on his back in our
bed. An intruder was positioned above him. Mitch's dick was pushed up inside
the ass of Derek. Derek was a handsome FedEx carrier. Derek's hair was a sandy
red. The pubic hair that I saw on the bobbing crotch matched his chest and
head. The hair on his chest was full on his pecs. It centered into a treasure
trail over his navel down to his crotch. His bush was hairy and masculine. The
curly hair seemed soft, not wiry. A huge cock jutted from the mass of pubic hair.
The cut cock was almost erect but still had a bit of buoyancy. It was certainly
long, a thick seven inches maybe more. Derek's dick bounced and waved as he
leaned back on his stiff arms. Derek's head was tilted back, and he moaned as
Mitchell continued to fuck him. My partner's hips keep thrusting his erection
into Derek's ass. Derek's legs were muscular and had fine, brownish-red hair on
them as well. The FedEx carrier was an incredible specimen of sandy-haired
manhood.
I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500. My
mind memorized it all. Photocopied. Xeroxed. Digitally scanned. Flash bulb.
"Fuck!" I yelled out.
My neck felt tense. My face felt hot and red and
smoldering. My brain was a pinball machine caroming a steel ball from bumper to
bumper trying to process what had happened.
I turned and headed down the hall.
"Fuck!" Mitchell cried out. "Cooper, wait."
Wait. Wait?? Yeah, sure. Why? What possible explanation for
you screwing a Derek from FedEx in our own bed! could possibly exist?
Nothing could explain that away.
As I started the car, lyrics joyfully sang "There's no place
like home for the holidays." I starting sobbing. I knew I had to get through
this meeting. I had to get those contracts to Mr. Shannon. Then what? When the meeting was done ... THEN WHAT!?
My life had fallen apart.
In one brief moment, my life had fallen apart. Again. I
couldn't process it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't swallow. I started moving
toward the door. Mitch ran to meet me. Before I was out the door, he grabbed my
arm.
"Cooper! Cooper Cooper Cooper..." I
slipped from his grasp. "No. Please. Please!! Come back. Let's talk. Cooper.
NO!"
I was at the elevator. The receptionist's friend had gone,
but I'm sure I looked a sight. My skin alone should have set off the smoke
detectors.
The elevator took nine years to get to the ground floor.
When I reached my car, I knew it was on the side facing Mitchell's office. He
was most likely watching me drive away.
I still couldn't breathe. I still couldn't process. I wasn't
going to cry. I wasn't go to cry. I wasn't go to cry.
Now what?
Ophelia answered her phone.
"Hey, birthday boy. Happy happy!"
I looked at the mail on the dining room table. "Your card
arrived today. Thank you."
"My pleasure. I'm surprised by the call."
"I need to talk."
O immediately recognized the tone.
"I'm listening."
I recounted the last 25 minutes.
"I have no words, honey. Really. I don't know what to say.
You aren't tempted to drink, are you? Tell me if you are."
"I ... I ... I don't think so. I have a picture of Corey in
front of me. That usually keeps me in check. But ..." I started sobbing. "I don't
know what to do. That's what's scaring me."
"Let's do a meeting."
"We just did one last night."
"Trust me. There's a 5 o'clock. Do you think you are okay
until then. I'll go with you. Tell me you'll be okay."
"I'll meet you there."
"All right. Just breathe. This is just one day. This is one
moment. Nothing here is forever. You've got lots of friends to call if you
need. I'll see you in a few hours."
After we hung up, I stared at the ceiling. I was stretched
out on the couch with Corey's framed picture on my chest; my body felt
lifeless. I squeezed my eyes shut. It took ten minutes, but I finally stopped
crying. I grabbed some tissues to blow my nose. I laid them next to those that
had blotted my tears.
I sat up and started having a conversation with myself.
"Okay, Cooper. Ask yourself, why are you upset? Mitchell
didn't do anything wrong."
"Today he didn't," I answered to my own question.
"So why am I upset?"
"It all just came back."
"Nothing has changed. Mitch has been faithful this whole
year."
"The last few months at least."
"And you had sex with Emory."
"God! Why is my life so upside down? Where am I without
Mitch? He is my rock, my lighthouse, the dock."
"Why?"
"Because I love him!!"
"Does he love you?"
"Yeah. Yes! Yes, he does."
"So are you blaming him for something today?"
"No. Just seeing ... seeing DEREK just makes me feel
unworthy."
My two-way conversation with my brain ceased.
I couldn't imagine it was possible but following my internal
dialogue, I somehow feel asleep. It took an hour lying there, but I guess I was
emotionally exhausted. A ker-plunk of a text coming
in awakened me.
It was Mitchell. It was his fourth text. I started with the
top message and read back.
"I need to know you are okay. Please, PLEASE call me."
"Please call me. Please! I love you. With all my heart I
love you."
"Forget him! Just know I LOVE YOU. That's all that
matters."
"Please know nothing is going on with him. I haven't seen
him in months."
The AA meeting was in 30 minutes. I ran a brush through my
hair and changed into more comfortable clothes.
Ophelia gave me a bear hug when she saw me. We didn't say
anything. We just held each other for two minutes.
After the meeting started, I hadn't really planned to share.
Fifteen minutes in, I did. This meeting was smaller than our usual ones and the
chairs were arranged in a circle. I raised my hand.
"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."
"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.
"I'm lost. I only know ... two of you ... here. Most of you
don't know me. I'm gay. I was married for 14 years before I admitted that. I
have a great son. I'm on pretty good terms with my ex-wife. The man who made me
admit who I truly was ... um, we fell in love. We still are. I think. I ... I don't
know. I'm feeling lost today.
"He cheated on me last December. We've kind of worked
through it. I was prepared to recommit to him tonight. It's my birthday, and he
was taking me out to dinner. And then at work today, I saw the man he cheated
on me with, and ... it all fell apart for me."
Facial expressions in the group were sympathetic.
"I just don't know what to do. Mitchell didn't bring
anything on today. If I am going to forgive him, then I need to forgive him.
But just SEEING this ... Derek ..." I said in a maliciously sarcastic voice,
"It just all came back. I feel broken and unworthy. And alone. And ... and ...
scared. I know I shouldn't be. I have a lot going for me at the moment, but ... I
feel like nothing. Happy birthday, huh?
"I was encouraged to come here this evening. Maybe just
saying it out loud helps. I feel support each time I am in a group. So ...
thanks."
The group clapped.
Following the meeting, I hugged Ophelia one last time.
"Thanks, O. Thanks for being there for me."
"Sweetie, you have lots of people you can lean on. Don't
ever forget. This is just today. Tomorrow will be better and the day after that
will be even better. Love you, Sugar."
"Love you too," I said letting go of her hands.
Halfway home, Lance called.
"Happy birthday," he shouted as the call picked up on the
car's blue tooth.
"Hi. Thanks. Got your card. I appreciate you guys
remembering. Is Jakob with you?"
Lance sighed. "No."
"Uh oh. Anything wrong?"
"No. Nothing like that. We're good. He's just getting more
and more involved with the city here in Von. We just don't share time or at
least as much like we used to. Of course, I'm very proud of him. He's
amazing. I sometimes just ... miss him. You know?"
"I understand."
"How about you? Are you and Mitchell on your way to dinner?"
"Uh. No. I'm leaving an AA meeting."
"Really? On your birthday?"
I replayed the last six hours for him. Lance had many traits
most of them good. He was an empathetic listener. He said nothing for ten
minutes and just let me talk.
"Do you need to come here? Should we come there to see you
tonight? Jakob should be home soon."
"I'm ... I'm ... probably okay. I don't know ... I'm confident I
won't feel tempted to drink."
"Good."
"But, Lance, I just don't know what to do. I don't know how
to feel. I'm confused. I'm lost. I just feel ... alone. It's not fair to
Mitchell. I just ... just don't know what to say to him."
"Just take it one day at a time. You and Mitchell will
eventually talk. You'll know what to do. He loves you."
"He does."
"We're here if you need us."
"Thank you. That means a lot. Love you guys."
"We love you too."
Staring into the fridge, I reached for a Dr. Pepper. I had a
nap, so if any caffeine kept me up, who cared. Not that caffeine and I ever had
a problem.
I stared at my phone. I decided to text Mitchell.
"Hi. I need space. I'm not good. But I don't blame you
for anything today. I know you love me. I love you too. But I feel like I am
sorting through a lot. I'm weird. Just give me space. Hopefully, next week we
can talk."
He texted back:
"Oh thank God. I was worried sick. I'm sure that was awful.
I hate that it happened. He means nothing. All that matters is that I love you
and you love me."
"I'll be in at work tomorrow. Just let me have space. I
think I'll need it to get my head on straight."
"OK. This is a ridiculous thing to say after today, but
Happy Birthday."
I put my phone down. Well. That was done.
My stomach growled. I realized that I had just walked away
from my lunch on Mitch's desk. I wondered what he did with it. Could he eat his
own after I walked out? My day sucked. I couldn't imagine his being much
better. I'm sure he was a wreck. Fuck Derek for even coming into his office.
There was no way I was preparing food. I supposed I could
have something delivered. That sounded dreadfully lonely.
Three minutes later: "This is a surprise. Happy birthday,
Coop," Laramie answered my call.
"Hi. Thanks."
"What's up? Are you out with Mitchell?"
"Actually, no."
"What? What happened?"
"I could just use some company. I don't really feel like
eating alone."
"What's wrong? Are you okay?!"
"Yeah. I guess. Sort of. Not really."
"What can I do? Can I take you out? Want me to bring
something there? Want to eat at my place?"
"That was a selection of options. Quite honestly, I am not
sure. Being among happy diners doesn't seem really right. I originally thought
of seafood, but ... would you be willing to pick up something and come here?"
"Sure. I wanted to treat you anyway."
"Mama Ricci's has a shrimp alfredo that I love."
"I know where that's at. Can I pick it up?"
"You remember where I live, right?"
"Yeah, I was there with the wood samples for your shelves."
"Right. I'm home. If you're willing. I hate to ask..."
"Don't be silly. I'll leave now."
Thirty-five minutes later, the apartment was fragrant with
garlic bread and Italian sausage lasagna.
"I'm so glad I could do this. Happy birthday, Coop," Laramie
said as he cut the first corner off his lasagna.
"That smells spicy."
"They had two types of lasagna. This was noted as being
spicier."
"Smells good."
"Sometimes I tempt fate with my stomach, but ... eh. I love
spicy stuff."
"This is full of calories. But who cares, it is my
birthday."
We both drank bottled teas that I had in my fridge.
"Speaking of calories, you need a birthday cake or
something."
"I think not," I replied. "I will feel stuffed after eating
this."
He chuckled.
"If we absolutely must indulge..." I continued, "I have ice
cream in the freezer for Corey's visits."
Laramie winked at me.
We didn't say a lot during our meal. I felt better for just
having company. The eruption to my afternoon seemed calmer. I couldn't say I
felt better, but I was calmer. Laramie hadn't asked about the plans with
Mitchell. Something told me he was afraid to bring it up.
I cleared our plates after we both had finished. I was
stuffed. The dishwasher wasn't full enough to run. The quietness seemed too
blaring. I put on some music. Springsteen didn't seem too festive nor too
depressing. I felt it was neutral.
Laramie had moved to the couch. I added ice to my glass of
tea. I joined him. Considering how awkward the evening was, I felt I owed him
an explanation.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked about ..."
"I'm ... uh ... curious, but didn't want to ..."
"We're friends. You should be able to ask me anything."
"You know all my garbage, that's for sure."
"Mitch and I were making dinner plans for tonight in his
office at lunch. We have been seeing each other for months. You recall that we
had ... been working on repairing our relationship."
"Right. The split was because he ..."
"He cheated. That's the word you are avoiding
saying," I said. "The guy he cheated with he walked into his office today. It
was a FedEx guy!"
"No way!"
"I fell apart. I was a wreck. I just left work."
"Coop. I'm so sorry. I ... I don't know what to say."
"It took me a few hours to process. Ophelia took me to a
meeting. Lance called. All said, I know Mitch didn't plan on this ass to
stop by. It wasn't his fault. I couldn't really blame him. I just ...
needed some space."
"How do you feel now?"
"Better? Maybe. But ... I went through these really crummy
weeks months actually after the breakup last winter. I felt alone. Adrift.
I had no idea how to be gay in the gay world."
"What does that even mean?"
"Mitch taught me everything I knew about being gay. And
without him, I felt like I was a big nothing."
"You? Oh please. You're totally fine. You're a great friend,
that's for sure."
"Thanks. I wrestled with feelings of ... of just starting
over. I felt so unworthy. I couldn't picture anyone wanting an inexperienced
novice like me."
"Maybe that's why I love you," he softly said, looking down.
Laramie's eyes got wide, and his face jolted to look at mine. "I mean..."
We stared at each other and didn't say anything. Seconds
stretched.
"Laramie..." I started.
"Don't. Don't think." He stared at the floor. "I ... I ... could
make up something fast here. I could lie. I could say I meant `I love you as a
friend.' But ..." His eyes met mine again. "I'm in love with you, Cooper."
"What? I thought we were just friends."
"We are!! And that's all. Don't change anything. You're ...
you're the best friend I've had in years. For sure in Jackson Bend. You ... you listen and you allow me to bare my soul and you don't judge
and ... I love everything about you."
"Laramie ..."
"Wait. I don't expect anything. If you must know, that
was the last secret I was keeping from you. But I need you as a friend, and I
know you love Mitch. Please don't let this mess anything up. Please! Oh God!
I've messed up our friendship."
"No. No, you haven't. I ... I'm just surprised. I guess ... I
should be flattered."
"And that's just it. You don't know how amazing you are.
You're a humble man with an enormous heart. I've never met anyone quite like
you. I didn't plan to, but I fell for you. Weeks ago probably."
"Wow. I had no idea."
"Good. And don't let anything change. We're friends. You and
Mitch are in love, and you and me are just friends. I can handle that."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure. If something ever happened between you and Mitch,
then ... yeah, maybe ... I'd take my shot. If you ever need me ... if you ever want
me ... I'm here."
Laramie was speaking so openly. He could do so from his
heart so easily. I think I would have so many reservations to do that. It was
one of his strongest qualities. How strange that he followed in the same steps
Emory did with me months ago. This was all awkward, but internally, I smiled
that I was somehow lovable.
"Well, ... thanks. If you ever did spend quality time with me,
you'd quickly find out I am far from amazing. I'm ..."
Laramie lunged toward me and planted his lips on mine. He
didn't pull away. We kissed. I was there accepting it. I participated in it. I
loved it. We pulled apart. Our gaze locked. I saw the flecks of green in his
brown eyes. I leaned in for a second kiss. This one was longer. Then he jerked
away.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You're in a weird
place. I can't ... I can't make things more complicated for you. I'm so
sorry. I'm so sorry. You and Mitch are supposed to be together. I can't make
things complicated."
But now they were. In that moment in that single,
passionate moment in the middle of a weird-ass-day moment I felt something
for Laramie. It was wrong. I did love Mitchell. I did. But I wanted to kiss
Laramie again. But he was right. I was in a strange place. Vulnerable. This
would only make things worse.
"Ice cream?" I offered.
He smiled. "After an Italian lasagna-garlic alfredo kiss,
that's probably in order."
We both chuckled as we went to the kitchen. He watched as I
dipped cookies and cream from a full carton.
We sat down at the kitchen table.
"Wait!" Laramie said and went over to the stove.
He turned on the gas, and then reached into his pocket. He
pulled out a slightly bent birthday candle and lit it in the flame. Then he
turned off the stove and planted the candle in one of my scoops of ice cream.
"Where did you get that?"
"I happened to have a few left in a box in my kitchen
drawer. I stuck one in my pocket just in case a situation might arise."
I leaned over and kissed him again. Then he sang "Happy
Birthday" in a beautiful voice that surprised me. We smiled at each other.
Laramie sang along with Bruce for a moment. His voice really
was wonderful.
As I loaded those dishes into the dishwasher, Laramie
chuckled, "Well, you can't say this birthday was uneventful."
"That's for sure. My brain is sure to be a tornado
tomorrow."
"Hey, Coop. Don't let me mess with it. We're friends. We had
a moment here, but I need you as a friend. Don't let me screw that up."
My phone rang. It was Corey.
"Hey, son!"
"Happy birthday, Dad!"
Laramie winked at me. He moved over to kiss me softly on the
cheek, whispered "Call me" in my ear, and then waved goodbye. I stood and we
held each other in a hug. It was tender but not long. He pulled away but grabbed
and squeezed my hand. We held it a moment while I listened to Corey and then he
let go and waved as he moved to the door.
"How was your day?" Corey asked.
"A little crazy. How was yours?"
"Awesome. My classes at school rock. You should have seen
what we did in Biology today."
I smiled as he told me things about his life. His calming
voice was the presence of normalcy I needed. At times, my eyes just welled up
listening to him be him.
"Hey, Dad. We're doing lunch with you on Saturday. I hope it
is okay if I give you your card then."
"Of course."
"Good. Dad, I just want you to know I think you are the best
dad in the world. I love you."
A tear escaped from the pond of moisture in my eyelids and
ran down my cheek.
"That's the best gift I got today. Thanks, son."
"Your lunch is in your fridge," a note said on my
desk. Mitchell didn't write anything else. I figured I would just go eat out,
but it appeared I had lunch waiting for me. At least that was nice of Mitch.
Work plodded along. I continued to release any resentment I
had toward Mitchell yesterday. He was so caught off-guard. He was not to blame
for the feelings I had yesterday. Nine months ago? Yeah. But not yesterday.
Seeing Derek just made it so real. But today I just focused on work.
A text came in from Natalie: "Lunch tomorrow at our place
at 12 okay?"
"Absolutely"
I was going to meet Natalie's new beau. Was I ready for
that? I had told myself I was looking forward to it. I was. But what would he
think of me? Was I a jerk from her past? An embarrassment? I wasn't sure about
that part.
Midafternoon I looked out the window. I saw Mitchell's car
on my side of the building. I wondered what the first thing I would say to him
would be. I was still somewhat of a mess. He didn't deserve the pain he was
going through; I knew he was going through it. It was different from me, but it
was still real for him.
Despite yesterday being a disaster, I got caught up and made
great progress. Next week's meetings had great potential. If I kept my mind on
straight, it could be a very good week.
I grabbed a raspberry tea from my fridge ten minutes until
5. The weekend neared. I had no plans for tonight. I had saved a few boxes. Perhaps
it was time to begin boxing up a few things before the move. I imagine there
were some items I could live without for a few weeks.
I stood at the window. I watched for Mitchell to walk to his
car. At 5:03 I saw him. He unlocked his car. He paused and looked up at my
window. I guessed he could see me looking through the glass. He waved. I weakly
waved back. We were so great four days ago; now it was just weird.
Emory and Laramie thought I was some sort of catch. If they
only knew. I was a mess.
Clearly, I would need many, many more boxes. The ones I had
filled quickly. I marked each one with the specific contents. I vowed to go
into this move very organized. Even with those boxes filled, I felt we had more
than enough to work with in our final weeks at the apartment.
By 11, I was dead tired. As I flipped and flopped in bed, I
thought I was too tired to sleep. Rolling on my back, I reached down into my
boxers. I fondled my dick but playing with it didn't get it hard. I was just so
tired. Usually thinking about Mitchell's anatomy would get me erect. Tonight my
thoughts drifted to Laramie. That brief glimpse of him walking by naked at his
apartment was arousing. Even though I only saw it for just a moment, I thought
he had a cute butt. I wondered what his dick was like. But did it make a
difference? I wasn't hung. It didn't really matter to me if he was or not. But
imagination started painting the picture of Laramie's body. His arms were
rather nice, probably owing to his work situation. I remember sexy chest hair
in the occasional moments I had seen his chest. It wasn't necessarily that
thick but very visible.
My dick was beginning to stiffen. I thought more about
Laramie. If he loved me, he had to imagine me naked too. Were we doing it at
the same time? Was he holding his cock picturing me lying naked next to him?
Was he fondling his erection thinking about making love to me? What would be
his preference sucking me or fucking me? What would I want to do our first
night together?
First night? What was I thinking? I loved Mitch.
This was only fantasy. Masturbation material. I loved Mitch,
but tonight I would think about Laramie.
I was hard. I hadn't come all week. Stroking myself was the
release I needed. It felt good to be hard. I deserved this private moment.
Thoughts of our passionate kiss last night flowed through my
brain. Those kisses were nice. I liked them. A lot. Nice. Kisses. Hard.
Strokes. Laramie. Hard. Naked. Chest hair. Hard. Cock. Stroking.
I started moaning. I hadn't masturbated in a few weeks.
Mitchell and I had been having fairly regular sex. Good sex. Naked. Moaning.
Hard. Mitchell. Fucking. Hard. Loud.
Thoughts of two men swam through my head. I pictured them
both in bed with me. Their hands were on me. Hard. Cock. Hands. Stroking.
Kissing. Sucking. Hard. Me. Laramie. Mitchell. Hard. Us.
My stroking felt incredible. I pictured us all stroking each
other. Us. Hard. Sucking. Cocks. Hard. Us. Moaning. Groaning. Loud. Coming.
Coming. Coming.
"Ungh!" I screamed. Cum shut from my dick onto my chest. The
next stream hit my neck, and I screamed again. Each time. Each pulse. Hard.
Cum. Moan. Scream. Laramie. Mitchell. Cum.
My body remained still, splattered with liquid. My chest
heaved with deep breathing. It was a good orgasm. I lifted my body and threw my
legs over the side of the bed. My intention was to walk to the kitchen for a
paper towel. First, I ran my hand through the cum on my chest. I felt the
moisture on my skin. I licked my tongue through it.
Laramie. Mitchell. Cum.
As I walked to the kitchen, my semi-hard penis wagged from
side to side. I wiped down my chest, but it still felt slightly tacky.
"Happy two days after your birthday," Natalie said, greeting
me at the door.
"Thanks, Nat," I said, giving her a hug.
"Dad! Happy birthday!" Corey said, as he gave me a huge hug
as I entered the door.
"Thanks, bud. You just saw me last week. You'd think it had
been a year."
"It's your birthday, that's all," he said squeezing harder.
We walked into the living room. There was a gentleman
standing there.
"Cooper, I would like you to meet Daryl."
I extended my hand. "It's really nice to meet you, Daryl."
Daryl shook my hand. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually
said, "Nice to meet you," as he let go of my hand. I couldn't say I blamed him
for feeling slightly off. Meeting your girlfriend's ex-husband had to be weird.
The awkwardness was broken as each of us talked about what
we both did in our careers. There was the slightest tension in Natalie's body
language, but I felt it relax as I smiled and laughed. Corey seemed completely
natural. He knew all the players in the room, so nothing seemed out of line for
him.
"Corey, would you bring out the salad to the table," Natalie
said. Looking at us, she said, "Lunch will be ready in about five minutes.
Excuse me guys. Get to know each other."
As Nat left the room, Daryl and I looked at each other.
"Wow. She's confident," Daryl said.
I chuckled. "Sure is. She's amazing though. I'm sure this is
a bit odd, but I've been looking forward to meeting you."
"That's not something every ex-husband would say."
"Well, we're a unique case, as I am sure she has explained."
"She ... has. I think a lot of people would be quick to judge
you, but I imagine you went through a lot. Internally."
"That's kind of you to say."
"Gay uncle. I can be pretty understanding."
"I see. Right. Well, I'm very sad it took me most of my life
to figure things out and sadder that I caused her grief, but ... she deserves
someone who can love her fully. Completely. It was tough for her at first, but
... Nat's amazing. She forgave me. She's been very understanding."
"It's nice to see exes be civil to each other."
"Indeed."
"How did you two meet again?"
"Church, believe it or not."
"Ah. Which makes your understanding even more appreciated.
Thank you."
"Corey thinks you hung the moon, so I knew there had to be
some good qualities there."
"I'm trying."
"Hey guys, tea, lemonade or water," Nat said, ducking her
head out.
"Tea," the two of us said simultaneously.
A minute later, Corey was bringing glasses to the table, and
we were called to sit down.
Lunch was lovely. Chicken marsala was a favorite dish of
mine to order on my birthday. Natalie tried to make it on special occasions and
had gotten pretty good at matching a restaurant. Corey shared some things he
was loving about school; Natalie spoke of her work. I mentioned a new account I
was working on. Daryl showed interest and related it to his business. Talk of
my new house was brought up, and I shared my excitement with that. Lunch flew
by. It was pleasant and fine.
Corey was grinning ear to ear in bringing out a cake with
number candles a three and a nine and sat it in front of me. Natalie
playfully dimmed the lights. They sang and then waited for me to blow out the
candles. I did. The lights returned to their full glow.
"Here, Dad." Corey handed me a gift.
"What's this?" I said with exaggerated joy.
"Open it."
After tearing away the paper, the box indicated it was a
picture frame. My son instructed me to open it and pull the frame from the
inside. It was an 11 by 14 of the two of us standing in front of El Toro at Six
Flags.
"I love it. I. Love. It. It's totally going on my dresser,"
I said, beaming at Corey. He smiled back.
"I got you a little something, too," Natalie said.
"Nat, you didn't need to do that." I was perplexed by her
overt kindness. Lunch alone was thoughtful.
"It's simple."
I opened the wrapping and in it was a brown cardboard box
with no markings. I ripped open the taped seal and pulled out a vase. It wasn't
as simple as Natalie had implied. It was obviously handcrafted and the
translucent blues in the glass were elegant and beautiful. Natalie knew they
were my favorite colors.
"It's ... it's beautiful. Thanks hon', er ... thanks, Natalie."
I looked at Daryl to apologize for that minor slip. He smiled and nodded.
"Jakob helped me pick it out. That's your friend, right?
Jakob?"
"In Von? Did you go all the way to Von for this?"
"Daryl and I took a simple day trip there. They were having
a festival, and I thought your friend might help me pick something."
"Oh, I love it even more." Hopefully, my expression conveyed
my sincerity to my ex-wife. "Thank you."
"I knew I had all the vases here after you left, so I
thought the new house might need one from time to time."
"Thoughtful."
"What did Mitchell get you, Dad?"
My heart stopped. I had no answer for my son. I couldn't
scramble fast enough to deflect an answer. Our Thursday together fell apart so
horribly, I hadn't given that a single thought.
"Excuse me while I duck into the bathroom, everyone."
After shutting the door, I breathed heavy, trying to regain
my composure. My brain was a broken window. I couldn't open or close it. The
shattered pieces of glass were ready to slice my hand open at the slightest
touch. What could I tell Corey? I freaked out at ... at stupid Derek ... but
Mitchell didn't do anything. Then I wound up kissing Laramie that night. How do
you tell your son you are in love with one person but suddenly felt something
for someone else? I looked at my reflection and wanted to write "basket case"
on the glass.
I inhaled. I stood up straight. I felt I could go back. But
I peed. After washing my hands, I then went back to the dining room.
"Hey, Dad. We have ice cream. Do you want ice cream? Mom,
can I get the ice cream?"
"Yes, yes, yes," Natalie said, shooing him to the kitchen.
Then she looked at me. Nat knew me. She knew something was up from my
expression.
"Daryl, would you be so kind to take a picture of me with my
gift? I'd like to text it to Jakob."
He agreed and we posed. Corey came out with a scoop and a
half gallon of both chocolate and cookies and cream. In no time, the four of us
had cake and ice cream in front of us. I opened my cards and thanked them.
Corey got a call on his phone. He asked if he could take it.
We all nodded. Daryl collected the dishes and took them to the kitchen, saying
he would put everything away.
Nat looked at me. "Something's up. What's wrong?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Something's up. What's wrong?"
"Nat. I ... I don't know. Do you really want to know?"
"It involves Mitchell, doesn't it? Did he do something?"
"No. He didn't."
"But?"
I gave the Cliff Notes version of Derek coming into the
building. I specifically left out the kisses with Laramie. I admitted I didn't
know what I was feeling.
"That had to be hard. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
I looked at her in the eyes. "You had to deal with a husband
telling you he was gay; he was in denial for the majority of his life. It
doesn't really compare."
"Maybe. Hard things are hard things. You and I have ... well,
we're in a good place."
"Because you are amazing."
"Oh shut up. We're adults. We both love our son. I've moved
on from the past and the shock. Part of me is always going to love you ..."
"... and I you."
We smiled. "It's just good that we can be honest," she said.
"I want you to be happy."
"And I you. I think I'm just too screwed up to have a happy
life."
"I pray for you often."
"That's nice of you. And selflessly thoughtful. You really
are amazing."
"Stop."
"Daryl seems nice. Everything working out?"
"Yeah. I think we have something real going."
"And are we still in a Christian-ly
relationship?"
"All right. We'll quit right there," she said, giving me a
friendly scowl.
Emory knew something was off. I had said practically nothing.
I just sipped my coffee. He stared into my eyes and said nothing in return.
Sighing, I said, "I know. I'm terrible company."
"What's up, Coop?"
As my body language crumbled in the chair, I suffered
through the retelling of ... of the Derek moment. And my childish reaction to it.
"Why childish? You're a human being," Emory offered.
"I suppose. It just hit hard. And the timing was ... was ..."
"Fucked up," Emory said, finishing my sentence.
"Probably not my choice of words, but ... right."
"Have I heard you cuss?"
"Maybe. I only do it if I'm really angry like in times
like that!" I bluntly said. "And, occasionally ... I use
the f-word during sex."
"You're adorable. You said that like a kid in seventh grade
getting caught cussing."
"I don't feel adorable. I feel completely lost. My life was
getting back together, and I thought I was there ... but noooo."
"Were you there, though? You never got past the ... `wall.'
Derek was always a wall. Did you really forgive and forget?"
"Forgive, yeah ... I think. Forget ... not at all. It was still
there. But I loved him. We loved each other. I felt it fully again."
"If that's the most important thing, then that itself hasn't
changed, right?"
"Right," I said less than enthusiastically. "But there's
more."
"Dear heavens. What else?"
The evening with Laramie was explained.
"I told you he had a thing for you!! I could tell."
"Which makes it all the more complicated."
"Not necessarily," Emory insisted. "I had my momentary crush
on you. We're still friends. It hasn't been a problem."
"I don't want to lead someone on, though."
"So how was the kissing?"
"Magnificent, actually. I find myself drawn to Laramie. He's
very different than Mitch. But ... but ... Aauughhh! It's
all so complicated. I'm lost."
Emory grabbed my wrist. "Things will work out how they are
supposed to work out. It doesn't have to be today."
I was hoping a run with Trent would help. I thought for sure
it would reduce the tension. It would help me de-stress. Playing with Amadeus
and having him run alongside us was uplifting. I wasn't even going to mention
the whole situation to him. I wasn't going to bring it up.
"So, how was your birthday? Last Thursday, right?" Trent
asked halfway through our jog.
Guh! I told the whole thing again and Trent
brought us to a slow walk.
"Man. I'm sorry, Cooper. That's a lot to contend with."
"I know. It would help if I knew how I felt about something.
But everything is all messed up. I'm just ... a hopeless case."
"Well, let's start with the basics. You love Mitch, right?"
"Right."
"Derek coming into the office wasn't planned, right?"
"Right."
"You don't have any actual feelings for Laramie, right?"
I didn't answer.
Trent stopped. "This is complicated."
"No. No, I don't have any feelings for him. Not like that.
Not really. Not much."
I shoved my face into my hands and grit my teeth. How had I
unraveled so badly? I didn't know anything!! I didn't have a constant to grab
onto. I couldn't even look at Trent anymore. What a disaster I was. Just a week
ago it was all rock solid. Or I thought it was. Now I didn't know what to do
the next day. I had never felt so adrift since ... since last Christmas. My life
was a wreck.
Trent put his arms around me. He held me. I began to sob in
his embrace.
"I'm so lost, Trent. I don't know what to do. I don't even
know how I feel about anything."
We saw a bench about a quarter mile ahead. We slowly walked
to it and sat down. By that time, I had a modicum of composure. I petted
Amadeus to calm me. I took a deep breath and looked at the sky. Trent put a
hand on my shoulder. Amadeus nuzzled his nose into my leg.
"I guess ... I guess I should just concentrate on the house.
And on Corey. Just let the dust settle."
"I empathize with you. Lance was in love with me in college.
But I was in love with Mike."
"He was ...? Oh wait. I remember his first share a few years
ago. Yeah. He talked about that."
"About being in love with me?"
"Yeah. With his best friend. Y'know, I probably knew that in
the back of my mind, but I just picture him with Jakob now."
"Indeed. They are so great together. But there was a time
our last couple months of college that the sexual tension between the two of us
was super tempting. I tried to stay strong and be loyal to Mike. You'll have to
do the same."
I contemplated Trent's words as we walked back. And over
tea. And during a late-night bowl of ice cream. And as I lay in bed. I wanted
to jack off, but I had no zeal for it. I didn't want to think about anybody.
As I entered work Monday morning, the receptionist on my
floor caught my attention.
"Um. I was asked to put something on your desk. I ... got the
key from Mr. Shannon. I hope that's okay."
"Uhhh ... I guess??" I was curious.
Turning the lights on, I saw a wrapped gift on my desk. I
sat down, noticing a note taped to it.
"I didn't get to give you this Thursday. Mitchell" it
read.
I shut the door. Next to the package was a flash drive. A
post-it note read "Play this." I stuck it in my desktop. It was a slide
show set to music. "I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz started playing. A slideshow
of pictures of Mitchell and I faded and changed throughout the song. I had seen
many of them. A few were ones he had taken that I guess I had not seen. Our
vacation with Corey a year ago was in there. Our first dinner out. One he had
taken of us shirtless in bed. One from Friendsgiving with Trent and Mike.
Although the pictures had my gaze, my brain was in tune with
the lyrics:
When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?
Well, I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
And when you're needing your
space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find
'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up
Tears were running down my cheeks. I played it three times.
Had anyone been able to hear through the walls, I was certain they would be
perplexed or think I was a lunatic. I wasn't sure if I cried for ten minutes
or until lunch. I had no track of time. My love for Mitchell took precedence.
It was him and me. Work melted away. The walls melted away.
I played the song one more time with my eyes closed. I
didn't care about the pictures. The words spoke to me but challenged me at the
same time. Taunting me that he wouldn't give up, but at the same time they
prompted me to wonder if he should.
I was so messed up. I was so screwed up. I was so FUCKED up.
I looked at the gift again. Ripping off the paper, I could
tell it was a piece of jewelry of some kind. Opening the box, I saw it was the
watch I had noticed when we were out getting Corey a birthday present weeks
ago. Tucked inside was a handwritten note: The time spent with you is all
that matters.
I knocked on his door. I was asked to come in. He smiled
that it was me. He saw the watch on my wrist, and we looked at each other's
face. He was looking for approval, forgiveness, understanding. I offered him the
look of a lost child. We kissed. For a long time.
"Dinner tonight?" I asked. He nodded. "We should talk."
I felt my earlobe gently gripped in Mitchell's teeth. It
turned me on. His hard seven inches prodded into my testicles as he thrust his
hips. His mouth was all over my face on my cheek, on my lips, on the bridge
of my nose and on my ear. His breath panting into my ear, and then I heard him
say "yeah" as his cock rubbed against mine.
I repeated it back.
"So ... birthday boy, what is your pleasure? Sucking? Fucking?
You name it."
"Let's fuck."
"Who does who?"
"I want to fuck you."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"First let me suck you," I insisted.
I loved tasting Mitchell's cock. It was if it was the most
expensive thing on the menu, cooked firm and succulent. I lightly moaned into
his stretched flesh. He groaned and called out my name, which I appreciated.
Precum leaked from the slit concealed in my mouth, and my tongue danced with
the liquid before I swallowed.
"Yeahhhh," Mitch said in approval.
I pulled my mouth off his hard-on and moved up to kiss him
passionately. Our tongues were in a swordfight as we engulfed our partner. We
got louder. Our arms were wrapped around each other, holding, groping, feeling.
My penis felt so hard, so erect. I rolled him to his side. He pulled a towel
under him as I leaned to reach the lube. Fingering his hole with the clear
slickness, he writhed in anticipation.
"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, Cooper."
Coated in lube, my dick was ready. My erection entered him.
"Oooohhh," we both moaned. My body pressed to his
back. My hips thrusted. We were now joined in a sliding, stiff connection. My
dick gliding inside Mitchell. The friction was euphoric for both of us. I
grunted right next to his face. He groaned back to me.
"Mitchell. Fuck yes."
"Coop, keep fucking me. Fuck me, man."
I did. We did. We fucked. We fucked hard. We moaned. We
moaned loudly. We groaned. We groaned louder.
"Oh, Cooper. Don't stop. Don't stop. Fuck me. Cooooop. Oh, yeah!!"
My rod was super charged, pounding my lover's ass.
I moved my arms below him. I gripped him in a bear hug from
behind as we continued to thrust and writhe and wrestle. My mouth now bit his
ear, gently, panting into his ear canal at the same time.
Mitchell gasped in passion, mixed with whining and
whimpering. My sexual ferocity was driving us wild, both of us. Together.
Joined. As one. Melded. Connected with my cock.
"Mitch. Oh, man. My cock ... it ... it feels so good. It feels
so good inside you. I'm getting close, baby. Mitchell. Fuck, this feels so
good."
"Come in me, babe. Make your dick come inside me. I want it.
Come in me."
"Ohhh yeah. I am. I am, Mitch. Oh. OH! OH FUCK YES!"
My erection felt like a firehose shooting liquid twelve
feet. My groans could have been construed as painful, but nothing was further
from the truth. My orgasm was heaven. Shot after shot of warm lust was pumped
into my partner.
I collapsed on him. The sweat of our love sealed us
momentarily.
"Stay inside me," he softly said below me.
I did.
Mitch began thrusting his own erection into the towel below
him. We pushed our hips together. He frotted his cock
into the cotton fabric. He pushed and thrust and squirmed. I hummed into his
neck as I maintained the rhythm with him. It kept me hard long enough for him
to climax.
Mitch was still loud as his cum began to smear between his
skin, pubes and the towel below us. He kept pushing. I could tell it was a long
orgasm. It was intense.
I rolled over on my side. We panted in unison. It was
fantastic sex.
"Happy belated," he whispered.
Mitchell got up, pulled the towel from the bed and went into
the bathroom to clean up. He returned a couple of minutes later with a warm,
wet washcloth to clean my crotch. He threw it into the bathroom and then
reached down for his underwear.
"Don't. Leave it," I said.
He smiled and crawled back into bed. We turned toward each
other and gave a simple peck on the lips. I reached down to fondle his penis.
Even after sex it was nice. Mine was unimpressive to say the least. I stretched
out my arm and he moved his body to rest against mine. His hand reached down,
and a finger traced the contour of my testicles. He played with them gently.
Both of us stared up at the ceiling.
"We really haven't ... talked ... if you know what I mean," I
started.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry that I ... didn't handle that well."
"I don't blame you. It had to bring back a lot of bad
memories. I can't imagine the pain."
"Yeah, it did. At the same time, it isn't like you planned
for him to stop in. I can't blame you for the whole incident."
I reached toward my balls and grabbed his hand. My fingers
cupped around his, and I held his hand against my chest.
"I'm so sorry that happened, Cooper. I really am. I felt
empty without you this weekend."
He pressed his body further into mine.
"Did you think about his dick?"
"What??"
"I had only seen it about ten seconds and seeing him brought
the image of it all back. It was a pretty impressive penis."
"Penis shmenis. I love you. Only
you."
"I know." I sighed. "But I can never give you a dick like
that."
"It's only a dick. It means nothing."
"But you pursued it one time."
"Pursued. It wasn't like it was a hunt. It was ... a mistake.
A complete mistake. It never should have happened. I'll regret it for my whole
life."
He rolled into my neck. I moved my arm around him. Mitchell
felt good against me. I loved him. I hoped he could love me forever. But
would he go searching for something I'm not in the future?
Minutes later we were asleep.
"I have nothing at home for dinner. I was going to grab
something fast after my AA meeting, but I thought you might want to go out to
eat," I texted Laramie.
"Sure! Great," he replied.
Two hours later we were both sitting at a table at The Shed.
Our server brought out two chicken-fried steaks.
"Ohhh, that looks like I am going to see a couple more
pounds on the scale in the morning," I said, smiling at our dishes.
"Heaven," Laramie told our server LuAnn.
"Enjoy fellas," she said and left us to our meal.
Laramie reached for Tabasco and shook streaks of red hotness
onto his gravy-topped meat.
"I'm certain your insides are going to revolt against you
one day," I said, looking at my dining partner.
"Oh they do from time to time, but I love it when I can
really taste my dish."
"Seriously? How can you taste anything? It's like you make
your tastebuds burn with fire all the time."
He chuckled. I smiled back.
"I'm glad you texted. Part of me wondered if I would see you
again," he said, stuffing his mouth full of gravy-covered, fried meat.
"Don't overthink it, Laramie. I'm trying not to let it be a
big deal. It was flattering." I paused. "As long as you can be okay with us
just being friends."
"You're a great friend. I will make it work. That's the most
important thing to me."
I was trying not to talk about me as much tonight. Laramie
surprised me about asking about my meeting this evening. Most people avoid the
topic of me being an alcoholic. I would imagine they would feel it is some
taboo topic that would make me feel uncomfortable. Even Mitch rarely asked. Trent
doesn't either.
"No one really asks me about that. I think they probably
feel I am embarrassed by it. Thanks," I said, following a mouthful of mashed
potatoes.
"I think it shows strength that you're not."
"Maybe. When I first went, I probably would have been
embarrassed. Those people really got me through some tough months. Ophelia,
Lance, Jakob, Richard ... good people. I should go see Lance and Jakob again
soon."
"I'll spare you the humiliation of taking me along."
"They liked you."
"Ha. Maybe at the beginning. Talk about embarrassing."
"Well, you'll see them again next month," I said.
"Oh??"
"At Friendsgiving."
"How's this now? I ... what??"
"Oh, I asked Trent if you could come to Friendsgiving. It's
his big thing the Saturday before Thanksgiving where friends are thankful for
each other. I want you to be there. It was all inspired by Tyler, one of our
members in AA ..."
I stopped there. Tyler had killed himself. It affected us
all deeply. I momentarily had forgotten Laramie's brother had done the same. I
was scared to look at him. Had I sent him down a dark hole?
Laramie was smiling.
"I like that. If it celebrates our friendship, then I'll
make sure I am completely free."
"Good," I said and left it at that.
"Wow. He's a radio personality, isn't he?"
"And a playwright."
"Look at me ... hobnobbing."
"Ha. Trent is nothing like that. He and Lance went to
college together. For being so young, he put his talents to use right after
graduation. I'm proud of him. He's my running buddy."
Laramie looked pleased.
I picked up Corey after school Friday.
"How was your day?"
"Fine."
For him, that was oddly short. Further questions didn't
bring forth any deeper responses. He just stared out his side window. He and I
had such a great relationship, but I knew the dreaded teenage years were sure
to rear their ugly heads soon enough. What had gotten into him today?
"Craving anything for dinner? Pizza? Burgers? Chinese?
Spaghetti?"
"I don't know. Anything's fine."
"Are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk about?"
"I'm fine."
That was obviously a lie, but I wasn't going to push. I made
spaghetti at home. I didn't think I would get much conversation out of him in a
restaurant. While I fixed dinner, he tapped away at his keyboard. At times I
thought he was going to jam his fingers through his laptop.
Following dinner, he remained untalkative. He paid attention
to videos on his phone.
I sat next to him. "Have I done something wrong?" I asked.
"no,"
he said, as small as he could.
"Want to go for a walk? It's nice out."
"That's okay. I'm good."
"Mind if I do? I could use a little exercise at least. I was
in my office all day."
"That's fine."
"Well, okay. I'll be back in about 20 minutes."
While walking the neighborhood, I called Natalie. She had no
idea what was up, nor had he displayed any moodiness at her home. We were both
perplexed. Bad grades? A girl? A bully? Something embarrassing? We talked the
entire time I walked. I let her know if I found out anything I would pass it
on.
Upon return to the apartment, he had not moved. He seemed
focused on his phone. I hoped tomorrow would be better. I worked on some papers
at the dining room table in relatively close proximity in case his mood
changed. It didn't. We said virtually nothing until I brought out his bedding.
"I'm going to turn in. Need anything?"
"Nah. I'm good."
"Okay then. Good night. I love you, buddy."
"Yeah."
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I thought I was a
pretty good parent. At the moment, I felt incredibly inadequate.
I woke up at 7 and quietly walked into the kitchen to start
some coffee. I put it on a timer as to let Corey sleep another hour. Perhaps I
could.
I got another 20 minutes in there somewhere, but eventually
the aroma of brewed coffee awakened me. I poured myself a cup. I figured I needed
to wake Corey up so that we could start our day if he was willing. I made a
full pot so as to offer him a cup too. I sat at the end of the couch.
"Hey. Morning, bud," I said, nudging his foot under a
blanket.
He stirred under the covers.
"I made coffee. Would you like a cup?"
He scratched his head. "Mmmm." I couldn't discern if that
was a yes or no.
Eventually he sat up. I interpreted his nod as a "yes." I
went to pour it. I knew he liked a little cream. I had bought a flavored
creamer like the ones at Joe. As everyone on the planet was in a dither over
pumpkin spice, I had opted for that. After stirring the coffee concoction, I
walked back to the couch. The cover slipped away from him. When it did so, I
saw two bruises on his side.
"Hey! What's this? Corey, what happened??"
"Nothing."
"Did you get in a fight?"
"No. Yeah. Not really. I don't know."
"What happened?"
"Just stuff."
"Stuff!?? What kind of stuff?"
"Some classmates and I were sitting around at lunch. Just
talking."
"Did a fight happen?"
"Not really. One guy was talking about his dad. His dad
wouldn't give him money or something. A couple of my friends started talking
about their dads. I just said, `My dad is great.' And ..."
Concerned as I was about the situation, those words were
heartwarming.
"And what?"
Corey paused. "I don't know if I should say."
"You can tell me anything. Anything."
"The guys said, `Isn't your dad gay? You don't even have a
real dad! It's like you have two moms.' Some kids laughed."
"Oh." Crap. My son had gotten into a fight over me. Hurt
because of me. "So, did you fight?"
"Not really. We shouted. A couple of my friends stood up for
me and shouted at him. He called you some really bad names which isn't fair
because he hasn't even met you. I guess I shoved him. He shoved me back and hit
me in my side. I fell and he kicked me. That was the end of it."
"Did you report it?"
"Good lord, no. Honestly, Dad. I started it. I shoved him
first."
"Hmm. Yeah, but he actually hit you."
"Whatever."
"What about your friends?"
"They were there. I had a few; they stood up for me. Other
students kind of laughed at me I guess."
"Kids can be cruel."
"Mom would be disappointed in me for not `turning the other
cheek.' I'm not sure I really understand that phrase. I'm sorry, Dad. Are you
disappointed?"
I sat next to him. He leaned into me.
"No, I'm not disappointed. I'm sad that you had to put up
with that. I'm sad I was the reason you were bullied. But you stood up for me.
I love you for that, but I don't like seeing you get into altercations though."
I looked at him in the eyes. "I know you didn't initiate that argument. That
kid was being a jerk. Sometimes people are just mean. It would be nice if
everyone were polite and kind, but I'm afraid the world isn't like that. There
are great people and then there are mean people."
"Mean people suck."
"I'm sure they do. I think we could probably find a T-shirt
that says that too."
We both chuckled.
"This coffee is good by the way."
"Glad you like it."
"Are you going to tell Mom?"
I was quiet a moment. I took a sip of coffee.
"Your mother is your parent too. She and I shouldn't keep
things from each other when it comes to you. She loves you. She'll understand."
"I hope so."
"I'll downplay it. You might get a bible lesson or something
though."
"Oh, I'm sure." Corey took another sip. "Dad, you don't go
to church anymore, do you?"
It was my turn to drink some coffee. This was the first time
this topic came up. After two years, it is shocking that none of the three of
us has ever discussed this.
"No," I was embarrassed to say.
"Do you still believe in God?"
"I do. The world makes more sense with Him in it. I ... I ...
just don't know how I fit in it with Him. I know there are gay-friendly
churches. Perhaps I should investigate it more. I sure couldn't attend our old
church. I doubt if I would be welcome."
"That's sad."
"It is." I didn't look at him. I sipped my coffee. "Do you
miss going to church on the weekends you are with me?"
"Nah. I mean, I like my friends
there ... but I get it." He looked straight ahead into the middle space. "I'm
sure Mom wishes I did."
"Oh, I'm sure you're right. Hey, why don't you grab some
cereal, and I will hop in the shower first."
"'k."
"Just think, in a couple of weeks, you will have your own
bathroom."
"True." Corey finished his coffee. "Can we do coffee at 9 in
the morning?"
I nodded. "Hey, thanks for standing up for me, son. I love
you," I said, walking to the bedroom.
"Me too."
As the warm spray washed the layer of sleep-infused grunge
from me, my thoughts turned to Corey's altercation. The reality of the
situation started to penetrate my thought process. My son was hit and kicked
because of me. Because I was gay. Dear God. Could this actually happen
frequently? Would his thoughts of me eventually change? What if he became
embittered because I was gay. Was I going to cause him pain in the years to
come??
I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to not allow tears to come
out, but I failed. They blended with the shower spray, falling down my cheeks
and splattering to the tile.
With the feeling of being washed, I said a prayer to God to
watch over my son.
Brad hugged Corey as we walked into Joe.
"It's good to see you, cha Corey," he said, catching
himself before calling him "champ."
Corey felt at home at Joe now. As we drove in, I pointed out
some other places in the neighborhood. I told him I didn't frequent it down
here too much, but I pointed out a burger place, Chinese restaurant and a
nightclub or two. He asked if I ever went dancing. I laughed hard and informed
him that his father was a terrible dancer, that even Mitchell had given up on
me.
Emory was just at a table for two, but he quickly scrambled
for a larger table upon seeing Corey.
"I should have known. You have developed an entourage."
I smiled. "Mitchell is going to join us too."
"He is?" Corey asked.
"Yep. After you said you wanted to come, I texted him and
asked him to join us."
"Cool."
"Yeah."
Within minutes, Mitchell was there. He got a simple black
coffee at the counter and joined us. Both he and Corey beamed at each other and
gave a good, long hug. I stood to kiss Mitchell. I noticed Corey looked around
to see if anyone noticed. He had seen Mitch and me
kiss before but never in public. The fact that no one reacted at all caused him
to have the slightest of smiles. The maturity level of my son continued to
impress me. I hoped I just had a little to do with it.
Emory moved so I could sit side by side with Mitchell.
"Dad says you think he is a terrible dancer," Corey told
Mitch.
Mitchell laughed. Hard. For a long time. It was almost
infectious to everyone at the table. Brad was behind the counter and had to
turn his head to see what we were up to.
"So. How did this all come up?"
"I pointed out Club Indigo on the way in."
"I see." He turned to Corey. "I think your father is a
terrible dance because he is a terrible dancer. However, I couldn't care
less. I'd go dancing with him in a heartbeat."
"Mm," Emory grunted, staring out the window at Indigo
catty-corner down the street.
We turned to him. He became aware of our stare.
"Oh. Sorry. I just thought of Gene and I going dancing."
Emory turned to Corey. "Gene was my ... partner. We were together about 20 years.
He died of a heart attack a few years ago."
"I'm sorry," Corey politely said.
"Gene and I didn't dance a lot, but we never let age stop
us." The whole table listened intently. "Sometimes country, sometimes techno.
The older we got, the less frequent we went out. I mean, who in their right
mind wants to stay up until 1 a.m.?" He chuckled. "But we still went every two
or three months. It was fun." Emory looked at his coffee. "I do miss him."
Brad had walked up and heard enough to offer a sympathetic
look.
"Hey, by the way, I was running with Trent the other day.
He's getting started on this year's Friendsgiving."
"Thanksgiving already??" Brad scolded. "Ugh. Much too soon
to be thinking about November."
"It's next month," I reminded him.
"I know, but it is already chilly enough for me."
"Anyway, he's beginning preparations. I should probably let
him know how many people I will be bringing. Emory, you're coming right?"
"To a radio personality's house? Of course!"
"Mitchell. And I've asked Laramie too. Brad, I'd like you to
come if you would be interested."
Brad's face turned to me in surprise. "Me?"
"Of course. It's a day to celebrate friendship. I'd like you
to be there. It's the Saturday before Thanksgiving."
"Uh." Brad looked at a loss for words.
"Only if you want. It's just an offer. Free food and drink.
But no worries if it doesn't feel like your thing."
"No. I ... I ... let me check. The Saturday before
Thanksgiving?"
I nodded. I hadn't seen Brad speechless before. Ever. He
walked back to the counter and turned back to look at me.
Laramie joined us. We had a square table for four, so Corey
moved between Mitch and me on the corner. We let Corey have some conversation
time so that it wasn't all dominated by adult talk. My circle of men surrounded
me. Despite how the beginning of the month had gone off course, I felt better
now. I wondered how Laramie felt, me being there next to Mitchell. Hopefully,
his feelings would fall into place as Emory's did. I liked my friendships with
these gentlemen. They were important to me. Less drama in my life would be a
good thing. I had feelings of my own to deal with.
Brad came to warm our coffees for the third time.
"Do you have any pumpkin spice creamer?" Corey asked.
Brad looked at me. "Dear God! Have your corrupted this
child?" I merely shrugged.
The table had a good laugh. I'm not sure Corey understood
the joke.
Brad put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in slightly to
me. "I ... I think I would like to come next month. Thank you."
I smiled and nodded.
"Cooper! Oh God, I'm close. Oh fuck, yeah!"
I furthered my commitment to servicing Mitchell's stiff
cock. My tongue playfully dabbled with the underside of his erection as my lips
made a slobbery seal around the shaft.
"Aaahh! I'm gonna ... aaaahhh!"
I liked loud Mitch. The warmth of his cum dripping into my
mouth pleasured a different sense. His fingers snarled into a grip in my hair
was still another of my senses being stimulated. Factor in my view of his
crotch and the smell of his musk and it is no wonder I was close to coming as
well. I yanked on my cock and within seconds, I leaned up and sprayed my
partner's torso with heated semen.
"OOOOoouuunh," I groaned after I
fired my last stream.
"Wow. I didn't even have to do anything," Mitchell said.
"I know, I was so into it. You leaked a lot of pre-cum
tonight," I said bluntly.
"I don't know why that is."
"I don't have a problem with it, obviously."
I reached into the nightstand for a hand towel and started
wiping the results of our lovemaking off his chest.
"You know, this could be the last time we have sex in this
apartment." Mitch gave a look of surprise. "I close on the new house next
week."
"Huh! Well, we have a week, don't we?" He winked. "We could
do it every night next week."
We did. Fortunately for me, great sex came with someone who
was willing to help me pack things up.
Monday night we got the kitchen packed up except for some
bare essentials for me to make it a few days. He fucked me.
Tuesday night, the storage closet, hall closet
and study were boxed. We 69ed. He came in my mouth. I came all over his face.
Wednesday night after the AA meeting, we ordered Chinese
takeout. I fucked him. Then we boxed up the half bath.
Thursday required getting more boxes. Once we did,
everything in the living room was boxed or packed to move. With no television
and nothing on the walls, it looked very bare. Books were gone off the shelf.
He wanted to be fucked again. I was happy to oblige.
Friday night was the bedroom. Natalie was willing to let me
pick up Corey in the morning. When the entire bedroom was nothing but sheets on
a bed, Mitchell and I kissed for probably 20 minutes. We groped each other, we
felt each other, we fondled each other. His precum landed on my stomach. I
wiped my hand through it and gripped his dick. Soon we were panting and
groaning. It was a volume we had never reached in this mutual masturbation. I
jerked his cock vigorously while our mouths were sealed. Our tongues danced
over one another. His grasp on my erection was fierce. I moaned into Mitchell's
mouth. He pulled harder. I groaned into Mitchell's mouth. He pulled my erection
farther. I screamed into Mitchell's mouth. Cum was on me, cum was on him, cum
was on the sheets.
Our mouths separated. He straddled my stomach, but I had not
let go of his cock. I pulled and jerked. He ran his balls through my cum. I
yanked and jacked his hard-on.
"Cooper. Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah. YEAH! I'm there!!! Yank me
hard!!"
Cum dripped from his shaft, landing in the splatter left
from me. I looked at the two variations of liquid, easily telling each of our
contributions apart. Then Mitchell lowered and ran his genitals through it all.
"Nice finale," I said, enjoying the mess that our bodies
were.
"Yep. Next time, new house."
"But we will have to wait until Corey is back home with
Natalie. We should make it a performance."
Mitch laughed. "I wish you had taught me to be loud months
ago."
Mitch and I picked up Corey at Natalie's place at 9 o'clock
Saturday morning.
"So? When do I get to see it?" she asked.
"Maybe you can drop off Corey next time, and we can all have
dinner."
"I'd like that."
"And you can bring Daryl if you want."
"We'll see."
After we got to the new house, Mike and Trent pulled up a
minute later.
"Good timing. The movers are loading up at the apartment,
and Corey's furniture is supposed to be delivered in about 20 minutes."
Laramie came at noon with pizza for everyone.
By 4 o'clock, everything was there, but we were temporarily
living in a sea of boxes. Some were stacked like totems.
At least furniture in the two bedrooms were in place. The
living room was set up enough to watch television. Mitchell had it set up and ready
to go. I decided to hold off on cable. Corey and I would have a discussion on
it.
We all had dinner, my treat, at Jake's. It reminded Trent of
his college days. Laramie and Mike had a beer. After a hard day of moving and
unpacking, they felt they deserved it. Trent had a Diet Coke. He refused to
drink around me, but I told him I didn't mind.
After dinner, Mitchell headed home, and Corey and I entered
the house perplexed where to even begin.
"Was it like this when you and Mom bought our house?"
"I guess. We didn't have a lot. It sort of grew over time.
You weren't born, so we didn't have any baby stuff or anything. We were in an
apartment for a year. We basically had kitchen and bedroom stuff. In time, it
accumulates."
The guys had helped us separate all the boxes into the
appropriate rooms. I was incredibly pleased I had things so well marked.
"Let's get your room finished," I said.
Corey looked at the walls. I could tell he was pleased. I had
allowed him to choose the color of paint. It looked nice, even if it wouldn't
have been my first choice. The shade of purple was just a bit too bright for
me, but by no means garish.
When everything was in place except things hung on the wall,
we turned our attention to the kitchen. This one was so much bigger than the
apartment. It was everything I wanted. The blue paint was beautiful. No white
walls anymore. We emptied the boxes with ease. I still had a couple of empty
cabinets left, which was a nice thing. I knew they would eventually get filled.
I took a moment to rest on the couch.
A loud truck on the street woke me up. I was confused. Where
was I? It took me a moment to realize I was on the couch in the new house. I
didn't even remember falling asleep. I had a blanket on me. I guess Corey
covered me up.
I knew where the coffee maker was. I got up and started us a
pot. I looked at the clock. 7:12. I must have slept at least nine hours. I
didn't realize I had been that exhausted.
At 8 o'clock, I softly rapped on Corey's door. Corey's
door. Corey's door. I had now provided my son a door, a room, his own
space. As much as boxes all over the place was daunting, there was still a
thrill to be out of the small apartment and into my own house. MY house.
Corey came out a minute later. He was wearing underwear and
a T-shirt. As he plopped on the couch, I noticed hair had begun to grow on his
legs. Not only was he growing up, but his hormones were also probably in high
gear. I had assumed he had started masturbating in months past. I wondered if
he christened his new room last night.
"Morning, buddy."
"Mm'ing," he mumbled.
"How late did you stay up?"
"I dunno. Maybe 11. You sure conked out fast."
"I guess so. Thanks for finding me a blanket. That was nice
of you."
"I didn't want to wake you up. Plus, every single box is so
clearly marked, I just saw the box over there."
"Smart kid." I looked at all the remaining boxes. "Is it
okay if we don't do coffee at Joe today? We should really get a lot of this put
away. Are you okay with that?"
"Sure. It is kind of fun actually."
"Well, I'm glad you think so. We'll see how we feel in two
hours and millions of boxes."
"I have a favor to ask," he said.
"Oh, what is it, Cor'?"
"Can we go buy some groceries?"
"We? Do you have a big paycheck I don't know about? Have you
become a CEO of some corporation I am not aware of?"
"Okay. You buy. But we only brought over a small box
of stuff. I know you were trying to thin it out before the move. But the fridge
has milk, pumpkin spice creamer and a bottle of ketchup. I'd feel better going
back to Mom's knowing you have food to eat."
"Aww. You're sweet, bud. Okay. But let's get some work done
first."
We both had coffee at the table. Then Corey poured a bowl of
Frosted Flakes. I had Raisin Bran. We put the final touches on his room. He had
two things he wanted on his wall. I hung the poster of Billy Eilish. I didn't know much about her. It seemed at least a
step up from his old Miley Cyrus poster. I spared him my thoughts on her
personality. Why drive a wedge? We secured a bulletin board over his desk. I
had brought some push pins from work. He didn't have anything to put up yet,
but I could tell he was thinking about what he'd like to see. There was still
wall space if he decided on what he would like to put up next. I put his school
flag over the door to the bathroom. It wasn't that large.
I noticed he kicked a tissue under the bed when he thought I
wasn't looking. Yeah. I recognized the look of a crusty tissue the next
morning. At least his sheets were still clean.
"Should we do your room next?" he asked.
"Nah. I'll get to it tonight." I paused. "Actually, I will
accept your help to make the bed. If I crash on the couch again tonight, if I
wake up, I'll at least have a bed ready."
He laughed. I chuckled with him. I loved this. The house was
a good feeling. I found the picture he gave me in one of the boxes and placed
it on my dresser. He smiled.
We put guest towels and assorted cleaning items in the linen
closet. Extra pillows and blankets went there.
The office wasn't going to go quickly, but Corey did a
superb job of organizing office supplies in the drawers.
We took a break and went grocery shopping.
"Can I make us lunch?" Corey asked.
"Whaat?? I figured we would grab
lunch before getting groceries."
"I want to make us something. Would you like French toast or
a skillet scramble?"
"Sounds a bit breakfast-y, but I'm intrigued with your
skillet scramble. I'm game."
We spent close to 45 minutes in the store. Corey
systematically made sure he had all the ingredients for his dish. He also made
sure I had enough food to at least last me a week. I actually did a good job of
stocking the pantry with canned good, as well as a good supply of dry items. He
chose two boxes of cereal for future weekends. I bought several bottled teas
and flavored waters. The best thing was fresh produce, which was sorely missing
from the apartment in the last month.
Corey had peeled a couple of potatoes, sliced them up and
was grilling them with diced onions.
"So, how long have you been cooking?"
"Not a lot. I've tried a few things. I've watched Daryl make
some things, and he has let me help."
"Has he now."
"Yeah. He's nice. I like him." Corey stirred the potatoes.
He turned to me, "That's okay, isn't it?"
"Well, of course. I liked him too. Just because your mom and
I aren't together doesn't mean she has to be lonely. I want her to be happy. I
want her to be very happy. If Daryl makes her happy, then that's a good thing."
"Yeah."
I thought about the two dishes Corey mentioned. Breakfast
dishes. Had Daryl spent the night?
"Corey, does ... Daryl ever stay over?"
"Like spend the night? No." He added pepper to the skillet.
He flipped the bacon in the second skillet. After putting the lid on, he turned
to me. "Are you wondering if they are romantic?"
"Umm." I didn't know what to say. "It's not my business."
"They kiss in front of me, but Mom has made it clear to me
that they do not have sex."
I gulped and choked on my tea. "Did she say that?"
"Oh yes. She says that is reserved for married people."
Dear heavens, what kind of example had I been setting for
him? Mitch had stayed over countless times. We all lived together for a year.
"Do you and Mom talk about sex?" I asked.
"Uck! I'd die."
I smiled at him. "I get that. But ... you know if you ever
have questions you can talk to me. I'm here ... for anything."
"No thanks. I'm good."
As much as I felt blown off, I would have said the same
thing as a teenager.
"So ... do you ever have feelings for anyone at school? Do you
like anyone?"
It was funny that I didn't say girls. I really wasn't
trying to be "woke." I guess I was just keenly aware that not everyone was
heterosexual. I had no desire for him to be gay. In fact, considering his
recent altercation, I hoped he wasn't. Unless that was who he was. I'd be fine
with it.
"Kind of. There's a girl in choir I sort of like. I'm not
sure if she likes me."
"Be a friend first. If you're nice to her, she'll notice.
Then you can see if turns in to anything. Good luck."
"Whatever."
Ten minutes later, Corey was sprinkling cheese on my entrιe.
The skillet scramble had eggs, potatoes, bacon, green peppers and now cheese
melting on top. He placed a new jar of salsa on the table if I wanted to jazz
it up.
"This looks great, bud. I may have to depend on you to do
some meals from time to time."
"I only know how to make a few things, but I like it. Maybe
I'll learn more."
"Maybe we can make some things together."
He nodded.
"Tomorrow's Halloween. Doing anything special.
Trick-or-treating or anything?"
"Trick-or-treating?? Seriously, Dad. I'm not in elementary
school. Nah. Mom's letting me go over to Parker's house. We're going to watch a
scary movie."
"I see. That could be fun." Before my first bite, I felt
thankful. "Hey, Corey. Is it okay if we say grace before we eat?"
"Do you want to?"
"I do." I gave thanks for the food we had and the kind hands
that prepared our meal. Corey was getting opposite signals from a spiritual
standpoint. Prayers before meals was the least I could
do.
We spent the afternoon getting more accomplished. Not that
everything was done, but it was down to my bedroom for the most part. There
were things to still hang on the walls and electronics to hook up, but I felt
good about the weekend.
"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."
"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.
"Well, I'm in my house. The months have seemed very long,
but I am happy with the job the builders did. They were nice to work with, much
better than those in `developments,' from what I hear. I have felt really good
about being able to provide a room for my son. He seems to like it.
"I guess the big decision is how much to include Mitchell.
I'm going to let it be my house for a bit, but I should make an attempt
for him to have a little space, I suppose. A drawer. Space in the closet. I
still need to sort out ... us. We do seem good at the moment, but is that
permanent?
"Tonight I feel good. It's been a hairy month. I've really
dealt with a lot. Thankfully it seems to be ending on a good note.
"Thank you."
The group clapped.
"Happy Halloween," I said, poking myself into Mitchell's
office.
He looked up, then looked at his watch. It was 10:22. "Hi.
Yeah. Happy Halloween. And all that."
"About that, I was wondering if ... I could come over to your
place tonight."
"You have a brand new house!!" he replied in confusion.
"I know, but ... I'm not prepared for trick-or-treaters. I'd
rather the house just remain dark. It's new. I probably won't get a lot
anyway."
"Sure. You want to just duck the kids, or would you like to
spend the night?"
"I think I might like sharing the night with you."
"I'll see if I can muster up some scary sex."
"Perfect night for moaning and groaning."
He laughed. "Maybe we can throw in some blood-curdling
screams."
"Your walls aren't that thick."
I got to Mitchell's apartment at 6:00. He said he had
ordered for pizza delivery.
"Do you get trick-or-treaters here?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. You and I only had a few last year. I bought
a small bag of candy, just in case."
We did have a few knocks on the door. The first was the
pizza. Delicious. Mitchell knew I loved mushrooms, so he ordered it on half. We
alternated answering the door so we could at least get through our slices. They
were done by 8 o'clock, it seemed. The more vigorous participants had moved on
to the more upscale neighborhoods.
Once the nightly news had ended, we made our way to the
bedroom.
I had pulled off all my clothes except my boxers. In my
overnight bag, I had packed a T-shirt and I slid it on. Mitch was wearing
briefs. I saw him open a drawer to get a night shirt.
"Thanks again for letting me stay, Mitch," I said.
"Of course, Derek."
He froze. I froze. We looked at each other.
"Cooper. Cooper! I meant Cooper." Mitch's lip trembled. His
voice quivered. "I meant Cooper. I
meant Cooper."
Mitchell looked like his body was about to fall apart into
broken fragments. He panicked. His eyes watered. I, in contrast, stood
motionless.
Mitch walked over to hold me. After a few seconds, I pulled
away. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I meant Cooper."
"Did you see Derek today? Are ... are you seeing Derek?"
"No! No. Of course not. I swear. I swear I'm not seeing
him." He could tell I was not convinced. "He ... he called me today. He asked if
I would like to go out. I immediately told him `no.' I told him you and I were
together. I'm sorry. I don't know why that came out. I'm so sorry."
I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, what to do.
"You said his name ... when we got to the bedroom. Were you
thinking about him?"
"No. No. I don't know why I said that."
"Have you thought about his dick today?"
"What kind of question is ... what do you mean?"
"At any point today have you thought about his dick?"
"Uh ... uh ... I don't know. Why do you ..."
"Clearly you must have. If he called, I'm sure you did. You
remember that dick. I remember that dick, and I barely saw it."
"All that means nothing."
He tried to hold me. I was a tree. He held me. I was simply
held. My feelings hadn't registered. I wasn't angry. I wasn't hurt. I was only
numb.
"Maybe I should go. I think I'm going to go."
"No! No, no, no, no. Just lie here with me."
I brushed my teeth. My hand worked so fiercely that I
managed quite a froth. I walked back into the room. I just stood by the bed.
"Come on, lie with me."
I stretched out in the bed. I was a plank. Mitchell rolled
over and wrapped his arm around my body. He nuzzled his face into my neck. He
tried to squeeze me tighter. I was a plank. A motionless plank.
"I should probably go."
He gripped me tighter. "Stay. Don't give that any more
thought. It was a flub, a mistake. It meant nothing. Forgive me. I'm sorry."
I moved out of his grasp. I kicked my legs over the side of
the bed.
"I think I'm going to go home."
"Cooper, pleeeeeease stay. Stay
with me. I love you. I love you. Please stay." His hands reached to my
shoulders. He kissed the back of my neck. He whimpered, "I want you to stay.
Stay with me. I want you."
Mitchell slid his hand up my shirt and felt my chest. He
pulled my shirt off.
"I was looking forward to making love to you."
"Seriously? You think we could possibly enjoy it?"
"Just stay."
Mitch brushed his teeth hurriedly. He probably assumed I
would dart from the room.
"Let's just sleep naked. That's good, right?"
I lamented. I took off my clothes. He held me. I was a plank
staring at the ceiling.
That was an obvious slip. He held me in a way that I knew he
loved me. He told me so.
I didn't fall asleep for an hour. Once I realized I no
longer trusted him, I couldn't think about sleep.
* * * *
Feedback: timothylane414@gmail.com