by Kris Ripper
She raised her eyebrows.
“Okay. It was a hot moment.” He tapped the photo. “The two of them are sexy as hell. Working with them reminded me why I used to enjoy BDSM. This moment was…” He paused. “This moment was electric on my skin, and I resent it being captured from the outside like this.”
“It reveals too much.”
“Yes. Exactly. Which is why the dominatrix took it, and why Alice wants to paint it. Anyway.” He put it back in his portfolio. “This shouldn’t take long.”
They walked up to the house, and Emery knocked and rattled the doorknob. “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!”
“Not by the hair of our chinny chin chin!” Jake pulled the door open. “Hey, guys. Alice is in her studio, Emery.”
“Thanks.”
Emery walked down the hall. It seemed to make sense for Lisa to stay with Jake and Miles in the living room. She only thought about it for a second before closing the door and walking over so she could squat in front of Miles.
“Hey,” she said to Jake. “What’re you guys doing here?”
“Singer’s at work. We got bored.”
Miles, sitting in the middle of a circle of toys, waved his hands around and talked to her.
“Oh yeah? Then what happened?”
He kept talking, and Jake laughed, drawing his attention. Then he started talking again.
“I thought he was crawling?”
“Yeah, this is actually the first time he’s stayed still since we got here. And it’s not crawling, exactly, it’s more this weird sideways shuffle thing. But it gets him places he can’t follow a table or a couch.”
“Miles, you gotta show me. I feel like we haven’t hung out in days.” Oops. She probably shouldn’t say stuff like that.
Jake leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out so he could poke Miles in the stomach. (Miles laughed and immediately engaged with the foot monster.) “Yeah. Your brother’s making me nuts, no offense.”
“None taken. What’s his deal?”
“I have no idea.”
She looked over. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m not … transitioning well. Like, for years he did all the things, and now I do, like, more of the things. So I might be expecting more than is really reasonable? Except he just … it’s like he thinks I moved back in, and now we just need to find a house, and everything will be fixed, poof, done. When all I really want is for him to actually talk to me. Hell, I don’t know. Anyway, dick move, telling you my problems with him.”
“Not really. I mean, you aren’t saying anything mean. And I get not knowing where someone’s coming from or what they’re thinking. I feel like that pretty much all the time.”
“With Emery?”
“With everyone. I’m constantly wondering why you’re being nice to me, if you’re trying to get something from me, if you’ll start making demands unless I do enough back for you.” She swallowed. “I don’t know how to describe it. I’m always waiting for people to turn on me.”
“Well, I don’t know if this is good news or bad news, but you’re part of the family now. You could leave the country and we still wouldn’t let go. Just ask Frankie.” Jake’s feet attacked Miles from both sides, rolling him in between until he shrieked. “Sorry, bud. Too much?” When Miles raised his hands, Jake grabbed him. “Isn’t it weird to think that it’s all random? You and I went to high school together for a year. Singer and I for three years. And I never talked to either one of you until Singer and I bumped into each other in the Castro one day.”
“Really?”
“I was staring at my shoes because I was afraid I’d see too much gay if I looked up.” He offered a rueful smile. “Let’s get some food going, little man.”
She followed them into the kitchen. “So what happened?”
“We bumped into each other, Singer dropped the book he was carrying, I apologized without seeing him, and then he said my name, so I had to look up.” Jake’s face smoothed out. “He thought I wouldn’t remember him, but I did. Actually, I kind of remembered him a lot better than he remembered me.”
“That’s a great story.”
“It’s probably not that simple. He had to wait for me to come out to the family, and even after I had, I wasn’t exactly winning Gay Man of the Year, you know? I still don’t really know how to be gay like other people.”
“Um. You mean … what? You don’t have a rainbow sticker on your car?”
“I don’t always relate to things I’m supposed to relate to. TV shows, movies, books. They don’t feel like my experience, you know?”
“Well, I think that’s everyone. But some people want to see themselves in those places, so they try to mold what they see to fit, or they mold themselves to fit what they see. I did that for a long time.”
“Huh. Here, go see Aunt Lisa.” Jake passed off Miles (who immediately tried to explore her teeth with his fingers) and turned to the fridge. “Okay, I see what you’re saying. So what do you do now?”
“I freak out and can’t breathe and feel like I’m dying.”
“Yeah. Good times.”
“I definitely don’t see people like me on TV, Jake. Like, here’s the hero’s sister, who just left a cult, who can’t figure out if the hot guy who asked her out actually likes her or is only waiting for her to relax enough so he can mess her up.”
Jake shut the fridge and turned toward her. “He’s not. And also, dude, you’re not the hero’s sister. It’s your show, Lisa. You’re the hero. You did some stupid shit, and it sticks with you, but you still have to live your life.”
You’re the hero. It was hard to wrap her head around the idea.
“Anyway, where are you and Emery going for the big first date?”
“Shut up, Jake.”
“What? What’d I say?” He grinned and went back to poking around for food. “Miles, how about some pasta? The spiral kind you like playing with?”
Miles couldn’t have actually understood, but he definitely knew he was being addressed; he replied, and this time she was sure he said something that sounded an awful lot like “Ake.”
“He just said your name. Did you hear that?”
“He was making sounds, it’s not like—”
“Miles,” Lisa said, catching the kid’s eye. “Is that Jake?”
“Ake.” Okay, so it didn’t have a real distinct “ck” at the end, but he was clearly repeating Jake’s name.
“Holy shit. He’s totally saying your name right now.”
“No, he’s not—”
“Alice!” She probably shouldn’t interrupt them, but this was kind of a big.
“Yeah?” Alice called back.
“Did you know Miles is saying names now?”
“Lisa—” Jake began, but Alice’s whirlwind arrival in the kitchen overran him.
“Wait, what? He said a name?”
“He totally just said ‘Jake.’”
“Ake, Ake, Ake, Ake,” Miles agreed.
Alice burst into laughter. “Oh my god, you are! Miles, boy, you’re talking.”
“You guys, can we not make a big deal out of this? Please?” Jake reached out, and Miles dove into his arms for about half a second (squawking “Ake!” again) before demanding to be put down so he could shuffle along the perimeter of the kitchen, leaning up against the cabinets.
“Why?” Lisa asked. “It’s cool.”
“Because I wanted him to say Singer’s name first. I know that sounds stupid, but I thought it might help him feel, like, more important. Or something.”
“Hon, no. This, we celebrate. So will Singer.”
“I hope so.”
“Of course he will,” Alice said.
Lisa wanted to think so, too, but she also thought Jake might be right. Which was pretty annoying.<
br />
Emery stuck his head in. “Lisa? You want to go?”
Right, they were going on their date. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She knelt down beside Miles and pointed to herself. “Lisa. That’s me. Really easy name to say. Lee-suh.”
Miles crinkled his nose at her. After a second he babbled a bunch of sounds, none of which were even close to her name.
“Okay, fair try. Next time, buddy.” She patted his head and got up.
“We’ll see you later.” Jake hesitated, then gave her a quick hug. “You’re the hero. Don’t forget.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Emery quirked a smile at her as they walked out to the car. “You’re the hero?”
“Apparently. So, where are we going?” She could do dinner in a restaurant. She’d been psyching herself up for it. She’d even talked it over with Saul, whom Jake’s mom had taken her to see on Monday. He’d been more interested in rehearsing different ways of saying I need you to take me home right now please and talking over early warning signs for panic attacks with her. But no. She could do this.
“We have a few choices, but I’ll be honest. My preference is we pick up something and take it back to your house or my apartment. What do you think?”
“That sounds great. Your apartment, not my house.”
“Mexican?”
“You know any good Ethiopian? I haven’t had Ethiopian since—in years.”
“How do you feel about a drive? I know a great Ethiopian restaurant, but it’s in Berkeley.”
“Perfect.” The car felt safe. “Thanks, Emery.”
“For what?”
Lisa thought about it for a long moment. “I guess for not trying to fix me. I mean, assuming you’re not just pretending you’d rather eat in than go out.”
“God. No. I mean, feel free to always tell me if you want to eat in, because I’m usually a safe bet. I love being around people, but I just worked a couple of insanely long shifts and now I want to hibernate for the winter.”
“We could reschedule—”
“Oh, no, not at all. You don’t exhaust me. You aren’t demanding anything from me. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alice, she’s family, but sometimes it’d be nice to be able to walk away.”
“Been there, done that, and it is for a little while. Then it just feels very alone.”
“Which is probably why I’ve never done it permanently. Sorry, Lisa. I didn’t mean for our entire date to be a downer.”
“It’s not. Miles said ‘Jake.’ That pretty much made my whole day. Not that our date isn’t also cool—”
He laughed. “Miles said ‘Jake.’ That’s awesome. All right, let’s hit Berkeley and pick up some food. Do you have a music preference?”
“I have no idea. Whatever.”
“Cool.”
She didn’t recognize a single song he played, but he kept it low, like a soundtrack to their drive. This time they slept in the loft, and he’d been serious about not having sex. It didn’t even come up. They held each other, both of them in Emery’s old sweats, and despite her fears of snakes and nightmares (and possibly Emery), Lisa slept.
52
Lisa
19 days since finding grace
Now that they were officially moving, Singer was packing. Now that Singer was packing, so was everyone else.
Lisa took a break from poking around in boxes (her entire life had been boxed up and stacked in the garage, apparently, with Dad’s blocky “LISA” on all four sides of each box) and found Frankie in the kitchen, making coffee at five p.m.
“You too, huh?” Frankie asked.
“Me too what?”
“Well, you’re covered in a layer of dust, and you’re sweating like a pig. I assume you’ve been in purgatory trying to decide what parts of your life you want to keep and what parts you want to throw away.”
“You mean the garage? Yeah. I didn’t see any of your stuff in there, though.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I hid it behind other stuff, hoping Singer wouldn’t notice.”
“Why didn’t you hide it at your parents’ place?”
“Because then I’d have to talk to them, obviously. Come on, coffee. Brew fucking faster. No, wait, what am I talking about? Brew slower so I have an excuse to not dig through shit I don’t want. Where’s the happy family?”
Not so happy, Lisa didn’t think. “They’re at ice cream. That court thing they’ve been waiting for happened on Thursday, and it’s taken them two days to figure out if they’re allowed to celebrate it or not.”
“Wait, you mean it’s for real? Miles is theirs?”
“I guess not quite. The social worker came out Wednesday for a home visit and said that basically the judge was probably going to order Miles to be available for adoption, or something.”
Frankie’s confusion mirrored her own. “He wasn’t already?”
“Yeah, I don’t really understand how it all works, and asking Singer just made everything more confusing. Anyway, the next soonest they’ll have another court date is in six months, and Singer said sometimes it doesn’t happen that fast.”
“And that’s when it’ll be official?”
“I … think so? But I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Christ. This fucking thing is exhausting.” Frankie pulled two mugs down and poured coffee into both of them. “Here. Fortify yourself, Thurman. We’re going in.”
“I was thinking about taking a break.”
“You saying my company’s not relaxing? Don’t make me go in there by myself. Plus, I may need help moving shit around. Last time I had an accomplice.”
“Who?”
“Logan.” Frankie brushed past. “Hurry the fuck up.”
If Frankie had moved out almost a year ago, and Logan had helped her, then this thing between them wasn’t as new as Lisa had assumed it was.
“Can I ask you something?”
“As long as I can throw my coffee at you if it’s out of line.”
“Why’d you have sex with Coach if you don’t want to have sex with anyone?”
“See, you’re calling my bluff. That’s so fucking out of line you should be screaming in agony and dripping coffee all over the floor right now. Sadly, I’m not actually throwing my coffee at you. Christ al-fucking-mighty, this garage looks like a tornado hit it.”
“Jake thinks Singer’s freaking out and it’s manifesting in the garage.”
“Oh, he’s not wrong. I oughta bang their fool heads together a few times, see if something shakes loose. I think I hid my shit in this corner, though I might have … spread it around a little.”
Compared to the neatly stacked, uniformly sized LISA boxes, the rest of the garage did look disorganized and chaotic. Lisa, not quite ready to go back to work yet, sipped her coffee and watched Frankie shift things this way and that.
“Caldecott was ripe for the picking. He loved all the attention he got from teenage girls, he loved that it made him kind of a stud to the boys, and he was easy to play.”
“So you manipulated him into having sex with you?” Lisa let I call bullshit flavor her tone.
“Well, okay, I was pretty screwed up in the head. Listen, I didn’t get that I was that different. I thought everyone was making it up, you know? When people talked about sex, I just assumed that they were saying they wanted it because it was cool, but mostly they felt like I did.”
“Which was what?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Vaguely grossed out? I didn’t want to kiss people, and I sure as hell didn’t want to get naked and, like, interface with their bits.” Even now, she sounded kind of disgusted by the idea.
Lisa hid a smile in another sip of coffee she definitely shouldn’t be drinking this late.
“But then I started to work out that some people really were into it, they weren’t just making it u
p to be cool like the Lisa Thurmans of the world.”
“I was pretty embarrassing.”
“You were a teenage girl. Anyway, I thought I’d give it a shot, see if I was missing something. And I knew that if I fucked Caldecott he couldn’t tell anyone, so it’d never get back to the cousins what I’d done.”
“Except it did. It must have.”
“Well yeah.” Frankie backed out of the boxes and reached for her coffee. “The first time I managed to do it, and after like seven showers, I kind of felt normal again. But the second time … I don’t know. The second time felt worse, and it never got better after that. So then he called me to stay after practice one day, and you know him, he thought he was being cute with it, like we had this secret. But I wigged, and Jakey was on his way over to catch a ride with me, so I dragged him to the car and completely lost my shit. Which sucked, because he thought something way worse had happened than me forcing myself to fuck Caldecott.”
This was no longer a funny anecdote about younger Frankie’s sexual misadventures. Lisa gripped her mug tighter. “Shit.”
“Yeah. I barely got him to not rally the cousins to go after Caldecott, which would have been wasted on him since he was seriously too stupid to get how fucked up it was, but I had to tell Jake why I’d done the whole thing in the first place.”
“You told him you were asexual?”
“I didn’t know there was a word for it. I just knew that I never ever wanted to have sex again. And not because he took advantage of me or some shit. I wasn’t traumatized over that. I was—I guess I was a little traumatized that I’d done it to myself, if that makes sense.”
“That makes sense. Every awful thing that’s ever happened to me was something I did to myself.”
Frankie nodded, raising her coffee. “Cheers to that, Lisa Thurman. Why trust other people to fuck you up when you do such a good job without them, right?”
“So I still don’t get why you won’t date Logan, if he knows you don’t want to have sex with him and it doesn’t bother him.”
“It’s a pretty big fucking incompatibility gap. And I can’t— I thought maybe I could try—but I can’t.”
“God, Frankie. No.”
“Some people can. Some people can be ace and have sex sometimes. A lot of people, actually.”