by Gen Ryan
“Ben, I don’t have to work as much anymore. We have the house.” I smiled and moved toward him. He put up his hands, forcing me to keep my distance. I headed to the bedroom, not wanting to engage in a conversation that would likely lead to an argument. I stripped out of my police uniform and slipped into running shorts and a T-shirt. I turned around and found Ben with two bags in his hands.
“You can’t be serious?” I took the bags and placed them on the bed. “I understand we haven’t had a lot of time together lately, but I don’t need the overtime anymore. It was only so we could buy this house.” I motioned around the bedroom.
Ben looked at me sadly as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought the house was what I wanted. That it’d make me happy enough to stay.”
I plopped down on the bed, realizing where this conversation was headed. It was over. The countless overnight shifts, traffic duty, anything I could get to make Ben happy and buy him his dream home… wasted.
“Just like that? You don’t love me anymore?” I sounded like a sap. I wanted to understand though. Where had the years of our relationship gone wrong?
“I love you, Colt.” He smiled at me as the tears streamed down his face. “I’m just not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for a while.”
I let my face fall into my hands. There were no tears though, just frustration and anger. I’d worked so hard for this life that I thought Ben wanted, but it was all a lie.
“Why now? Why not tell me before I bought this house and all this stupid shit that you wanted to go in it?” My voice was so loud it even caught me off guard.
Ben took a step back. I hadn’t meant to scare him, but I knew I did. The tears were gone and fear permeated his face as he looked at the bedroom door. He wanted to get away from me.
“Just leave, then.” I threw his bags at him. Without a word, he picked them up and turned away.
“It was the job.” Ben’s back was still to me. “Every night, even after working sixteen-hour shifts, you’d come home and talk about the job. The light in your eyes, the animation in your voice. Then I’d mention houses or babies or anything, and you changed. You love your job more than me.”
I opened my mouth to protest but before I could, he closed the bedroom door and left me alone.
I loved my job. I had always wanted to be a cop and had joined the force right out of high school. I never thought I loved my job more than Ben, but he and I were cut from different cloths. He was an interior decorator, I a local cop who loved a gunfight and hiking more than color schemes and room décor. From the beginning we were so different. That’s what drew me to him, his love for things that were different than what I was used to, his spunky personality and color choices that made sure he always stuck out and was unique. I fell into the background, not wanting to be seen or stand out too much. Ben helped me overcome a bit of that fear, which was why I was climbing the ladder of the police force much quicker. He taught me to go for what I wanted, no matter the cost. I looked at the closed bedroom door and then the empty part of the closet where his clothes had been. I guess that cost was him.
I slumped down on the newly purchased California king bed that was covered by down comforters and more pillows than necessary. Everything in this house was Ben, down to the clothes in my closet that he’d picked out for me. I sighed and sank further into the bed. Wasn’t a breakup supposed to bring tears, heartache, and pain? I didn’t feel any of that. I was shocked, hurt, and angry that Ben would string me along, let me buy this house, when he didn’t think we’d make it. Yet his words resonated with me. Maybe I did love my job so much that I was destined to be alone. How could I fault a man for leaving me when he saw me for who I really was: a man married to his job.
4
___________
BRAD
“I think it’s time that you tried to swim again,” Abby, the therapist Melanie recommended and whom I’d been seeing for the past six months, stated. To anyone else it would have been a simple comment. To me, it seemed like she was asking for my life. Swimming had been my life, now lost to me. But after months of talking with Abby twice a week and trying to work through my issues over losing Taylor, she thought I was ready. Fuck me. I was petrified.
“I don’t know.” I played with the hem of my board shorts. I still dressed like a typical surfer, even when working at the shop. It drove Max batshit crazy. Guess you can take the ocean away from the surfer, but not the mentality. I found myself taking longer showers, standing under the cascading water for as long as possible. I’d hold my breath and let it stream down me, relishing the way it fell over my body. My mind would go still and I could just be. The water was where I was the most comfortable.
“Hear me out.” Abby reached into her desk and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to me and I glanced down at it as she continued talking. “This is an application for a swim coach at the YMCA. It’s a good start. Get your feet wet.” She smiled. “Literally.” She laughed. Abby was always laughing at her own jokes. It was contagious. I joined her with a small chuckle.
Clutching the application in my hand, I thought of all I had to lose, which was absolutely nothing. On the other hand, I stood to regain a piece of myself that had been missing for a long time. Abby was right. I needed to do this.
“All right. I’ll give it a try.” I swiped her pen and starting filling out the application. “Only because I like you.”
She grinned at me and nodded.
“I’ve got some pull, so hand it to me when you’re done.” Abby got up from her chair and opened her office door. “It will be good for your healing, but also, I want to see you surf someday.”
I put down my pen and slid the application to her side of the desk. My heart rate quickened at the thought of surfing. It wasn’t coupled with the usual fear, but rather excitement. I thought maybe I was ready to try the things that had once brought me joy. To get back to who Brad Morris was at the very core.
“Thanks, Abby.” I gave her a quick hug. She was more like a friend than a therapist. Where I’d thought I wouldn’t be able to open up to her, it was the opposite. Her warm smile, welcoming embrace, and laughter invited me in and I never looked back.
She had to be in her late thirties, but she had a youthful appearance and so much energy. She always paced when I talked to her during our sessions. She claimed it was her overactive mind coming out in her body. Abby taught me that our mind and bodies were connected. That things we loved to do, like my surfing, helped to weed through difficulties of the mind. Once I gave that up, my mind took over. I had to go back to my roots in order to heal completely.
“How are your parents?” Part of her plan was for me to reconnect with my parents. I did that after two months of meeting with her. They wanted me to visit. I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
“Great. Still wanting me to go home to see them.”
She nodded softly. It was her understanding nod, something I’d grown accustomed to over the past months.
“It will happen. One step at a time.” She smiled.
“Or stroke.” I pretended I was swimming and she laughed.
“All right, Brad. I’ll see you next week.”
I left with more motivation than before, hopeful for the first time in a long time. I couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for me.
***
“It’s fucking dead here.” Max swept the floor for the third time.
“It’s Monday.” I shrugged and tinkered with the car Max was restoring. It was a 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, Melanie’s dream car. Max and Jason wanted to do something nice for her. She came in every day, stared at it, and mumbled about how it must be nice to have money and blow it on restoring cars.
“Oh hey,” I said, trying to gain Max’s attention. He stopped sweeping and looked at me. “I’m going to need to scoot out of here a bit early on Mondays and Tuesdays. Is that okay?” He nodded. “I got a side job teaching swim lessons.”
Max smiled and put the
broom away.
“That’s great. The therapist helping, then?”
“She is. A lot. I’m feeling more like myself.” I finished connecting the new radio and turned the car on to make sure it worked. I was still new to all this car stuff and afraid I was going to screw something up.
“Sounds good,” Max said. “You’re catching on quick. Maybe you’ll take over this place someday.” He laughed. I froze, my eyes going wide.
“Don’t scare him.” Jason entered the bay and placed a kiss on Max’s lips. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, wanting to give them privacy but unable to look away. They were the real type of love. People argue that all love is real, but what they had was fierce. Opposites, yet compatible, and deadly supportive of one another. Jason was CEO of a chain of banks that was owned by his family, and Max was the owner of Craver Automotive, one of the best repair and restoration facilities in Rhode Island.
Max whispered something in Jason’s ear and he laughed. I had been with Jason many times, but only on a physical level. While some people would think us all still being friends was weird, it wasn’t. We’d satisfied each other’s sexual needs but not emotional. Max and Jason had the entire package. They were solid and unwavering.
They finally separated and Jason ran his hands along the side of the Beetle.
“Melanie’s going to love it.” He grinned.
“You know what that does to me.” Max growled as Jason continued to stroke the car. I grunted.
“Sorry,” Jason said as a slight blush crept on his cheeks. I drew the line at listening to their sexual banter. They may have been married two years, but their attraction to one another and playfulness was like that of teenagers.
“It’s all right. I’m heading out to class anyway.” I gathered my things.
“Class?” Jason asked.
“Swim lessons. Got a job teaching some kids how to swim. It’s good.” I smiled. “I’m going to be back in the water again.” I sighed. “I missed it.”
“What about my shop? Just leaving me hanging!” Max said playfully.
“I think you’ll survive without my mediocre mechanic skills for two afternoons a week.” I laughed as Max slapped me on the shoulder.
“Go get ’em!” Max said.
“It isn’t a football game,” I said as Jason and I laughed.
“Oh,” he muttered, embarrassed.
“But thank you.” I smiled and he loosened up. I said my good-byes and headed off to the YMCA. To come face-to-face with the thing that destroyed my life years ago.
I stared at myself in the mirror in the locker room after I changed, looking at my red swim shorts and white tank top with the team name, Sharks, sprawled across it. Laughter carried to me, signaling that the kids were arriving.
“I can do this,” I said to myself, trying to find encouragement in my own words. I was ready for this. To take this step and get parts of my life back, the things I loved. I exited the locker room and six smiling faces stared at me.
“Hey, you must be Brad,” a woman dressed in a business suit greeted me. “I’m Laura, Jack’s mom and board member.” She patted the head of a little boy. “Here’s the roster and all the other stuff you need.” She handed me a clipboard and folder filled to the brim with papers. “Good luck!” She waved, her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she ran out of the pool area. I opened my mouth to call after her, but she was already gone.
“She does that.” Another woman sidled up to me and touched my arm. Her fingers lingered as she traced up and down my bare bicep. “I can help with anything you need.” She put a large emphasis on “anything.”
“Thanks.” I smiled kindly. “But I’m gay.”
She recoiled and nervously smiled. “Such a pity,” she said.
I grinned as she scurried away the same way Laura had. Women always hit on me. I didn’t know what it was, but apparently I wore a sign that said “Touch Me.” It didn’t bother me; it was rather funny when their faces turned to disappointment once I told them I was gay. “Such a waste” and “pity” were common phrases I heard. It wasn’t a waste to me because I loved me some men… just as much as the women loved touching my biceps.
I turned back around, face-to-face with the kids who were eagerly awaiting my instruction. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes to settle my nerves. I saw Taylor’s face, smiling at me and giving me a thumbs-up. I opened my eyes and everything fell into place. The moment the water hit my body, I was home. A sense of calm came over me, my mind focusing on my breaths, the strokes of my arms, the positon of my legs as I taught the kids to tread water and how to dive. This was where I was supposed to be. The water was my home.
“All right!” I swung my leg over the side of the pool and hoisted myself out. “Everyone out!” I yelled over their loud voices as they splashed each other. “Time to go home.” My comment was met with groans and complaints by all the kids. It felt good to have them react that way, because I didn’t want to leave them either. The water would always be my home, no matter how long had passed since I last swam. These kids had helped bring that back to me.
I watched as each child was picked up, being sure to check their names against the authorized pickup lists. It was like a kid prison; only certain people could take them home. I scratched my head at the officialism of it all, but I guess parents couldn’t be too safe.
“Sorry! Sorry!” A deep voice caught me off guard as I signed out one of the last two kids waiting. “Damn traffic.” I glanced at the sign-out sheet to see the name of the last kid: Olivia. She must belong to this guy. I looked up and blinked.
Oh, he wasn’t just any guy. He was perfection.
He was all man, his police uniform hugging all the right places of his delicious body. Across his chest, “James” was written in script. He grinned at me, his dazzlingly crooked smile spreading into his dimples. His dark features gave him a mysterious look. I was riveted, and clearly I’d been staring for longer than acceptable because he cleared his throat. I ducked my head and blushed, trying to find something to do to take the attention off my faux pas.
“Oh, here.” I shoved the clipboard at him and he signed his name and flashed me his ID, which read Colton James.
“Are you new?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m Brad. Just started today.”
Olivia smiled at us both.
“He’s so good, Uncle Colt. He used to be a surfer!” She animatedly talked about my surfing days and I smiled because Olivia wasn’t his kid. He was her uncle. Not that I minded kids, but in the back of my mind, knowing Olivia wasn’t his child, I figured I might stand a chance.
“Surfer, huh?” He gripped his belt and shifted it back to the center. My eyes automatically focused on his dick, because he adjusted his belt, which was near his dick, so… yeah. I couldn’t get a good visual with all the crap that was hanging from his belt. Dammit.
I glanced back up and Colton was grinning at me, catching me yet again mesmerized by his body.
“Well, I have to get Olivia home before my sister has my head.”
I nodded, afraid my words would betray me if I opened my mouth.
“Uncle Colt.” Olivia tugged on his hand. For five, she was a good swimmer. Long arms and legs, a perfect swimmer’s body. She was fearless in the water and reminded me a lot of Taylor. “Brad likes boys too.” She clearly meant it to be a whisper, moving closer to Colton, but I heard it.
I nearly choked. Colton shook his head and shrugged.
“Kids, huh?” was all he said. My initial reaction was to be embarrassed for him, but he didn’t seem fazed in the least. He seemed like a man who didn’t let much bother him, his stern face and uniform just adding to my theory.
“Yeah. Kids,” I agreed, shoving the clipboard underneath my arm.
“See you around, Brad.” He tilted his chin at me—his magnificent, chiseled, clean-shaven chin—as he walked away, hand in hand with his niece.
As soon as he was out of sight, I hit myself on the forehead
with the clipboard, trying to bring myself down from the intensity of his stare, the perfection of his imperfections. That crooked grin, the little cleft in his chin. He was the first man since Jason that I had an urge to reach out and touch, stroke my fingers down his cheek, his chin, his chest. Let them take me to the most hidden parts. It felt good to have those feelings again, to look at someone and not stifle any emotions. I was becoming myself again, slowly but surely.
5
___________
COLTON
“Mom, Uncle Colt’s in love.” Oliva ran into the house, throwing her swimming stuff on the floor in the hallway.
“Mom’s working late.” Lee, my brother-in-law, poked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at Olivia’s comment.
“Don’t ask,” I mumbled. “Come get your stuff, kid.” She rushed back and picked up her swimming gear. I should have left it alone—she was five years old, after all—but her comment got me thinking. “Why’d you say I was in love?”
Lee, helping her pick up her stuff, laughed.
“You had those eyes.” She batted her eyelashes dramatically. “Like that.”
Lee snorted and patted my back. “Caught, man,” he said through a laugh.
“I didn’t look like that.” Had I? I rubbed my face, running a play-by-play of the events through my head. Brad was attractive. His lean swimmer’s body, his blond hair, and his bright blue eyes captivated me, but I was more taken with the fact that he’d openly checked me out. It’d been a while since I was aroused, especially from simply watching someone looking at me. The way his eyes roamed me, taking in each part of my body, had given me no choice but to adjust my, er, belt, which made him stare even more.
“It’s all right to find someone attractive, you know?” Lee said as Olivia bounced away and turned on the TV. Lee propped himself against the wall. “I know after Ben you just focused on work, but you haven’t dated in like what, six months?”
I groaned. My sister and Lee were both shrinks, which meant they were always analyzing my “situations.” Their current focus was on how I worked too much to forget the pain of losing Ben. Even if there was truth behind it, I didn’t like having it shoved in my face 24-7.