by Lane Hayes
The incongruity of boarding a private jet in one location and being met by a chauffeur on the other end only to get dropped off in the bowels of suburbia was jarring. At least I thought so. Carter, however, looked intrigued. I wondered what he saw here. Everything about my life in Baltimore was the definition of middle class. From my two-storied townhouse to my eight-year-old truck in the garage. No frills, no flash… just the basics.
I led the way through a miniscule mudroom into the kitchen. The ceilings were high throughout the space, giving the illusion my condo was larger than its eleven hundred square feet. After living alone in an enormous and beautifully appointed place in Manhattan, it was hard not to notice how small and… beige everything was here. The kitchen cabinets were a light-colored wood. The tiled floor was cream. The countertops were white. And the carpet leading to the adjacent living and dining area looked like spilled oatmeal. Even the furniture was blah. A chocolate-brown leather sofa, two club chairs, and a glass-topped coffee table were positioned in front of a gigantic flat-screen TV. There was no art hanging on the boring white walls and certainly no mistaking this was a bachelor pad.
Carter moved into the living room and set his backpack on the edge of the sofa before turning to soak in the nonexistent ambience.
“Uh… the bedrooms are upstairs if you want to put your stuff away and take a tour.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m going to stick a frozen pizza in the oven.”
I directed him toward the master bedroom and told him I needed to call my mother. She was going to expect me for dinner, and I hadn’t broken the news that I’d brought someone with me this time. In my head I knew it wasn’t a big deal. We were two masculine guys. Buddies. There was no reason for her or anyone to suspect we were lovers. But I couldn’t help wondering if I’d give myself away. I hadn’t felt this way about anyone in—well, ever. Moms were supposed to catch on to those things. Fuck. I really hadn’t thought this one out.
Half an hour later, we sat outside on the tiny patio, eating pizza and swigging cold beers. I studied my companion for signs of displeasure, but Carter seemed completely at ease. I tipped back my bottle, noting the perfect fit of his black T-shirt across his broad shoulders and the way his hair curled slightly at his nape. Damn, he looked hot.
“This is good,” he remarked as he reached for another slice.
“It’s a fucking DiGiorno pizza. It ain’t that good.” I huffed humorlessly, pushing my plate aside. I rested my feet on the chair next to me.
“I like it. I like your place too. This is nice.”
“Really?” I couldn’t hide my disbelief. “You’re eating cardboard and dining al fresco on a humid summer day on a slab of cement in fucking Baltimore. What’s the nice part?”
Carter gave me a scathing look, then picked up his beer. “It must be the pleasant company,” he snarked.
Touché. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just—this blending of two worlds feels a little weird.”
“Do you want me to go home?”
“Of course not.”
Carter turned in his chair to face me with an inscrutable expression on his handsome face. “Maybe we should set a few ground rules so this weekend doesn’t go sideways.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… I don’t want to spend it trying to read your mind to assure myself nothing has changed between us. Don’t play dumb. I’m not your buddy. I’m not your booty call. We both know it. I’m not going to ignore it and neither are you. But if you don’t think you can handle ‘blending your two worlds,’ tell me now.”
The challenge in his fierce gaze and rigid posture made his no-nonsense delivery feel like a physical smack upside the head. I bit my cheek thoughtfully before attempting to respond.
“I’ll be fine. I want you here, but I’m not ready for any big declarations.”
“I get it. I didn’t think this was a coming-out party, but I’m not putting up with a ‘fuck buddies’ façade in private too. It feels cheap. I’ve done a variation of that too many times. I want to think we’re better than that.”
“We are. But… are you saying you want to be boyfriends?”
“It’s not a matter of wanting to be… it’s what we are, dumbshit. Deal with it. I’m done pretending when we’re alone too. So don’t push me away with a crappy attitude about the heat, the food, or the condo. I can read you like a book. I’m on your side, Tim. I get you aren’t ready to make any announcements, but be honest. At least with me.”
I heaved a sigh and turned my attention to peeling the label from my beer bottle to buy myself some time as I mulled over the word boyfriend. Strangely, it didn’t make me feel panicky or boxed in. It fit. Privately. For now. I reached for his hand, aware of my accelerated heartbeat when he entwined his fingers with mine.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Come on, boyfriend.” I stood abruptly and kissed his forehead. “Are you ready for some family fun?”
You learned a lot about a person when you took them outside their natural environment. I knew Carter was easygoing, but I’d overlooked his sense of wonder in the simplest things. Mostly in human interaction. I caught him studying my mother. The way she fussed over dinner, asking him what he wanted to drink while automatically handing Liam a glass of milk as she set a comforting hand on my shoulder. I doubt my mom noticed his curious scrutiny or the trace of longing in his gaze, but I did. And with it came a rush of affection. Carter may have been a polished, sophisticated New Yorker with more money, connections, and education than anyone I’d ever met, but somewhere inside he was still a kid looking for people who felt like home.
It made me think hanging out in Baltimore with him for the weekend was one of my better off-the-cuff ideas. He seemed like he genuinely enjoyed meeting my mother and my nephew, and it was easy to tell they were taken with him. I spent so much time with him and knew him well enough now that I’d forgotten what it was like to meet Carter for the first time. He was dazzling. An effortlessly charismatic and extraordinarily good-looking man who could hold a conversation with almost anyone. I’d never met someone who was as equally at home at an exclusive five-star restaurant as he seemingly was in my mother’s kitchen eating chicken casserole and homemade biscuits. I braced myself for it to feel jarring and strange to have my male lover sitting at the same kitchen table I’d done my homework at as a kid. It wasn’t. It felt completely natural.
I doubted it was due to age and maturity on my part. It had to be Carter. My mom looked as mesmerized by him as I was. I caught her staring after him when Liam pulled him upstairs to check out the “coolest” fossil ever. She turned to me with an indulgent smile still in place and patted my hand before gathering a couple plates from the table.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“Do you think Carter would like some?”
I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t drink caffeine after noon.”
Way to go, Chalmers. If I wasn’t careful I’d be giving her his shirt size and favorite brand of toothpaste next.
“Mmm. I like him.”
“Carter? Yeah, he’s…” The urge to gush was strong, but I held back with a simple “…nice.”
“It’s too bad your sister isn’t home. He’s a real gentleman. And he’s good with kids. Does he have a girlfriend?”
Oh shit.
“Uh… he’s seeing someone and—Kat’s got a ways to go before I start introducing her to my friends again.”
She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘again’?”
“Nothing,” I answered quickly, twisting my wrist to glance at my watch. “We’re gonna get going so—”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“When I pick up Liam for the game, but we’ll come by Sunday morning before we take off too.”
“Wonderful! Come for breakfast. I’ll make pancakes, bacon, eggs. All your favorites! How does that sound?”
I pa
sted a smile on my face and nodded, though an adolescent part of me fought the urge to tell her none of those foods were my favorites anymore. But I couldn’t do it to her. My mother was happiest when she had people to care for. Having family over for dinner, a grandkid spending the night, and the promise of a breakfast to make was her measure of a successful weekend. I wouldn’t pop her happy bubble with ugly truths. What she didn’t know about my sister, Carter, or myself wouldn’t hurt her.
When we were finally alone again, I couldn’t stop touching Carter. I held his hand in the truck for the entire ten-minute ride back to my condo and made sure some body part was in contact as we hurried upstairs and fell into my king-sized bed. That “something” he talked about earlier was more evident than ever when I moved inside him. Every sigh, every moan, every push and pull felt binding, like being wrapped in a warm blanket with someone on a cold winter’s night. I’d never felt more connected to another person in my entire life. What I’d thought was the real thing at age eighteen paled in comparison to this. I should have been alarmed by my heightened emotions, but it felt too good.
We lay facing each other in the darkened room later, drenched in sweat. Carter leaned in slightly to kiss my nose and brush my hair away from my eyes. His smile was incandescent. There was no way not to return it.
“I like your family. Your mom is sweet.”
My eyebrows rose comically. I flopped on the pillow, then reached over to smack his ass.
“Mood killer.”
He snickered and scooted closer again but left a small space between us in deference to the July heat. Even at night, it was suffocating, and the air-conditioning was taking its sweet time. Or it was on the fritz, I mused as I ran my thumb over his right tit, then squeezed.
“Ow! Cool it. I’m not allowed to talk about your mom?”
“Not after sex! That’s a golden rule everyone on the freaking planet knows. Geesh.”
Carter’s grin widened. “Well, I like her. And Liam. You’re lucky.”
I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together when the need for contact overrode the need to cool down. “I don’t always think so, but I know I am. I wish Mom had something besides worry to keep her occupied. I used to think getting involved with the church was good for her. Now I think it feeds her paranoia. Liam makes everything okay.”
“How so?”
“He gives her a reason to get up in the morning. Even though he lives with his dad, he’s at her house all the time. He keeps her grounded. She can moon about how much he looks like Kat while she spoils him. He’s her second chance with my sister.”
“How is she doing?”
“Kat? She’s the same. A mess. She hates our mom and sometimes me. She’s angry and destructive. And sometimes… borderline evil.”
“Ouch. Well, she may be a hot mess, but she has a pretty cool kid.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I feel guilty that I’m not here more often, but… I don’t want to come back. The memories suck. I’d rather visit and make fresh ones than wallow in all those ugly feelings. If I didn’t have music, I wonder if I’d be in rehab with her. Music saved me. It’s the one thing that’s never let me down. People have fucked me over more times than I can count… my dad, my sister, Rob. Music never has and it never will. Family? I’m not so sure about them.”
“It may not be easy, but I still say you’re lucky. I wish I had what you do.”
“Which part? The neurotic mother, the MIA alcoholic father, or the crazy sister?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
“The part where you belong to something bigger than yourself. I don’t think the struggles… illness, substance abuse, or day-to-day disagreements are what define a family. I think it’s how you come together to deal with things you didn’t count on that matters.” He kissed our joined hands, then slipped out of bed. “I’m going to take a cold shower. Wanna come?”
I nodded but didn’t follow immediately. My head was spinning. His view of family was enlightening. It rang true and told me something about both of us… my occasional adult bouts of petulance were highly unbecoming in light of his longing and the loneliness I sensed drove his lifelong pursuit of achievement. I wished I knew how to share what I had without giving away more than I could afford to lose.
The next day, I sat on Liam’s bed at my mom’s house and watched Carter and my nephew construct a LEGO submarine while I plucked on my old guitar. I made up goofy songs to entertain them as they worked diligently on their project. They chatted about the merits of deep sea versus deep space in serious tones that had me rolling my eyes. When I stopped their fun to remind them we had a game to get to, they both looked up at me with disappointment from the debris on the floor. Of course, once we were at the game, they were transfixed all over again.
We shared endless snacks as we rooted for the home team from our premium seats. Carter taught Liam a random heckle to razz the pitcher that had my nephew laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. I found myself paying more attention to them than the baseball game. They were easy friends, which wasn’t surprising. They were the two most good-natured people I knew.
I looked at the pristine expanse of greenery twenty-five feet away, hoping for a big play to divert my attention before taking a big handful of peanuts. When I reached for more, Carter’s hand brushed mine. I froze and tried to refocus on the action nearby, but the pull was too strong. I turned my head and swallowed hard. He was closer than expected, and as per my new usual, he was all I could see. We held eye contact for a long moment, lost in our own thoughts until Liam jumped from his chair and whooped for joy when a runner rounded home plate. I slapped high fives with my nephew and Carter, holding on to his hand briefly before letting go. The vibe between us was electric. Whatever was happening here was out of the ordinary. It felt like our cocoon had been breached. I couldn’t keep the joy of just being with him from seeping out so everyone could see.
After the game, I insisted on going out for a healthy dinner before taking Liam home. I figured it was my responsibility to feed him at least one green vegetable to counterbalance the crap we’d eaten at the ballpark. I snickered at the disgusted faces he made around a mouthful of spinach before washing it down with milk, then glanced across the table to find Carter hiding a grin behind his hand.
“How are those veggies, Li?” I asked conversationally.
“Yucky.”
“Mmm. Well, I hate being the rotten uncle who makes you eat yucky stuff, but your dad isn’t going to be happy with all the shi—I mean, the junk food I bought you today.”
Liam swiped the back of his hand over his nose and shrugged. “He won’t care. Jordan cares more about healthy food than Dad does.”
“Is Jordan your stepmom?” Carter asked as he speared a tomato in his salad.
“No. He’s my other dad.”
Carter cocked his head curiously and hesitated. From a spectator’s point of view, it was an interesting exchange. The gay man looked far more confused than the nine-year-old kid who’d grown up in a house with two dads. I wanted to crack a joke, but a rush of heat flooded my cheeks. Fuck. This might get uncomfortable. I took a gulp of water, and then picked up my fork. I stirred my vegetables around my plate while I listened to their conversation with my head down.
“Your other dad?”
“Yeah. They’re married,” Liam said as though that might be of concern to Carter.
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah. They’re caterers. Papa… that’s what I call Jordan… he’s a chef. Dad is the business guy. They had a big wedding to do this weekend. That’s why they were gone. You can meet ’em when you take me home if you want.”
“Um… sure. Have they taught you how to cook?”
“A little. Dad says I’m too dangerous around sharp objects, so I mostly do blender stuff. I almost chopped my thumb off when I tried to cut an onion. ’Member that, Uncle Tim? There was blood everywhere!”
I nudged Liam’s arm and tipped his baseball cap so it covered hi
s face. “That wasn’t funny, weirdo.”
Liam giggled. “It was gross. It got all over the—”
“Hey, punk… we’re eating. Tell us about your swim lessons or day camp or something not creepy, eh?”
“Okay. Can I tell you about when we collected worms at camp? Or about when we let the frogs out in the rec center?”
I rolled my eyes and braved a glance at Carter, who chuckled and gave Liam a thumbs-up sign. “Go for it.”
Liam talked nonstop on the way back to his house. He was in a giddy mood I was pretty sure was the product of a serious sugar high. As much as I loved the kid, I was relieved when I pulled to a stop in front of the two-storied Tudor house with a beautiful weeping willow casting shade across the expansive green lawn.
“Here we are, bud. Say good-bye to Carter and grab your gear,” I instructed as I held back the seat for him to climb out of the truck’s cab.
“Bye, Carter. Wait! Come inside! I wanna show you the LEGO Death Star I built with Uncle Tim. It’s so cool!”
“We have to go, Munchkin. I’ll text you later and—”
“Please! It’ll only take a second. Come on, Carter.” Liam dragged his backpack behind him as he raced up the neatly trimmed brick path to his front door.
Carter gave me a lopsided grin. “I think I have to check out that Death Star.”
I blew out an exasperated breath and slammed the door. “Let’s make this quick.”
As we headed toward the open door, I let the sounds of suburbia wash over me. Neighbors chatting over their well-manicured lawns, inviting each other over for family barbeques while their kids played tag in the streets. This was the norm on a sunny summer evening. It was the upscale version of where I’d grown up across town. This was what my mother wanted for her daughter. For me too, I supposed.