by Aiden Bates
I knew that was the first thing I would have to get rid of.
It was just as I left it. Even now, it looked perfect, the exquisite velvet still silky smooth to the touch. I remember seeing it and thinking it was the perfect metaphor for Chris. Dark. Beautiful. Heavenly to touch. I remember the look of joy that suffused his face when I pulled it out. I remember the swell of applause and cheering that broke out when I dropped to one knee, the ensuing chaos when he said yes and we kissed blissfully. Everything had seemed so perfect.
But there was nothing I remembered as clearly as ‘the incident’. I only had to close my eyes, and there I was, climbing up the stairs to our apartment, my step made clumsy by the wine I had been drinking all night. There I was, fumbling awkwardly with the keys, finally picking out the right one and getting into the apartment.
He was supposed to have been asleep. With half a mind to surprise him, I had slipped out of my tux, and then tiptoed to his bedroom. I should have picked up on the scent of candles, or the drone of mood music filtering from under the bedroom door. I should definitely have paused at the grunting, the moaning, the telltale sounds of passion.
I remember the look on his face when I walked in. Bliss, and then shock, and then despair.
He was gone the next day. He never said he was sorry. He never said anything about it. He was just gone, and the only thing he left was that little black box, and inside it, the perfect diamond ring.
Well, that box had to go.
My phone buzzed as I was contemplating how to do just that. It was a new number, and I was just about to put it away when I saw the message.
“Hi, hubby.”
It was so out of the blue and so funny I actually laughed. He had a sense of humor. That was good.
“I wondered if I should pick anything up for the wedding night?” the text went on.
I wasn’t too old to recognize the flirty tone.
Grinning like an idiot, I typed back, “What did you have in mind?”
“Oh, I just stumbled across this gorgeous little mesh outfit and I wondered…”
“I’m sure you would look great in it, but most people don’t go into their wedding night expecting to be dressed.”
I sank back into the bed, patting a few pillows to ensure maximum comfort.
“You’re sure? How can you be sure? Unless you took a little peek at my profile?”
I rolled my eyes. He was teasing me, and I loved it.
“I might have taken a little peek, yes”
“Just a little one?”
“Tiny.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
“There’s definitely a lot to like. I’m more excited about what I didn’t get to see…”
“So your overall impression is…good?”
“It is. It’s very good.”
“You’re quite the looker yourself, hubby. If I may be so bold, I can’t wait for Saturday.”
I couldn’t either. But I hesitated just as I was going to say it back. It was almost like the spell he had already woven around me had broken. I was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of that giddy, lightheaded sensation in the pit of my stomach, the one that also meant I was smiling to myself. I was also aware of the increasing tautness in my sweatpants, but I chalked that one off to the innuendo we had been trading back and forth. I realized it had been such a long time since I was this aroused, and now Kyler had managed to do it twice in quick succession.
I needed to pump the brakes. I definitely liked him, but it wouldn’t do to appear too eager. So I gently redirected the conversation, asking him to tell me a bit more about himself.
I expected him to wave it off, promise to give me details when we met in person or rattle off some conversational summary. He did not. He accepted the invitation openly, going into generous details about his life.
He was an only child, and it wasn’t hard to see how much his father meant to him. He had been brought up by a single parent; he had never known his other parent, as his father’s partner had left soon after finding out about the pregnancy. And now his father was in an assisted living facility, having been diagnosed with dementia.
He shared just enough, but already I realized there was a lot to him. I liked that. I was sure it would be interesting to explore that.
I was unsure what to share with him. I felt I needed to share something, if for no other reason other than to extend the same trust he had with me, in talking so freely about his life. I didn’t want the first perspective he got of me to be the whole business with the scandal, so I decided not to tell him exactly who I was. It was inessential, really. I had not been Saul McCormick in a very long time, at least not the person the world assumed I was.
So I told him about the mountains. I told him about the beauty of the sunrises and the tranquility of listening to the river. I told him about the biting cold in the mornings, and how good it would be to have someone to wrap myself around when it got too bad. I joked that I had become the quintessential hunter and gatherer, foraging for herbs and skinning animals for hide. Kyler replied that that was an image he would be thinking about as he touched himself that night.
Kyler already knew part of my stipulations was that he succumb to my sexual needs, but I honestly hadn’t expected him to delight in it so readily. He seemed just as eager to get together as I was, if not more so, and the idea that he was going get off while thinking of me, had my own cock hard and ready. However, I ignored it in favor of learning more about him, and we continued texting into the night until I eventually fell asleep.”
I woke up the next day with a feeling of geniality and contentment I could not remember experiencing in a long time.
It was easy to focus on the preparation after that.
I went over every inch of the house, making sure it was presentable. I took a reconnaissance trip through my favorite spots in the woods and beyond, marking out the places I would take him and the things we were going to do together. I realized we would have enough time to do all that and more, but I still wanted him to see the Roch Mountains as I saw them; a beautiful paradise away from the chaos of the world. It made me realize how much I had missed companionship.
I also found myself planning for the wedding night. It was subtle at first. I would be standing at a random spot in the house, and the thought would suddenly slip into my mind: what would it be like to take Kyler right here, on this rug? Or ‘it would be fun to bend Kyler over this table and thrust into him’. Pretty soon, I was actively making plans for what I would do to him. I imagined I would grab him the minute I saw him and plant one on him. And then I would take his hand and lead him into the house and pin him against the first surface I laid eyes on. And then I would ravish him, and the first words out of him would be exclamations and moans.
It was as if the floodgates had been opened, and years upon years’ worth of sexual frustration came pouring out of me. I was now in a state of constant arousal. It did not help that Kyler had taken to sending me regular updates of what he was doing, along with cheeky selfies in which the best parts of him were blocked out. He wanted to keep the element of surprise, he said.
The effect of it all was that by Friday evening, I was in a feverish state of excitement and anxiety. Everything was ready. The lawyers had faxed back the documents I would need, including a ratified contract agreement. All Kyler had to do was sign them, and we were officially married.
It took every ounce of self-control I had not to call him that night. More than anything else, it was that urge that worried me. Giddy and excited were no good if this was a marriage only in name. I liked the kid, there was no point denying it. But I would have to be more guarded. I glanced once more at the little velvet box, and the rush of unpleasant memories was enough to steel myself.
The phone buzzed, but I ignored it. It felt dirty, somehow, to talk to him in the midst of my cleanse.
I took a long hard look at the engagement ring. The logical thing would be to throw it into the fireplace, right? But no, th
at one was going right back into the drawer. If ever I had a moment of weakness, it would serve as a timely reminder of the perils of falling in love.
5
Kyler
I was an impatient child. Whenever there was a big day coming up, I would get antsy as early as a week before. I could never sleep the night before a birthday, or a holiday. I remember my dad using it to explain relativity to me, how time seemed to fly when you were having fun, and slow down to a crawl when you were anticipating something.
The night before my official giving away, as Jess was calling it, felt a lot like that, like so many Christmas eves. I lay on her couch staring at the ceiling, knowing I was not going to be able to sleep. Earlier, we had finally finished moving my things over to her place, as I had moved out of my place. The greater majority of my worldly possessions was crammed away in her basement, stowed safely away for when I would return. If I would return.
It had been difficult deciding what went and what stayed. On the one hand, I was starting a new life, so I would not need any of my old things, besides photos and mementos. Plus, Saul was a billionaire, so I was sure I wouldn’t need any of it. But there was also the off chance it would not work out as I was assuming it would. Maybe it would fall apart, and I would be forced to move back here and pick up the remnants of my life from that motley collection of belongings.
And so I ended up taking only my clothes. The rest was packed away in boxes. And wasn’t it fun, seeing your life fit neatly into a few boxes.
It must have been around 3 a.m. My eyes were raw from staring into nothingness, the only light coming from a flickering street lamp just outside the window of the tiny apartment. I considered texting Saul something cheeky, as I had been doing all week, but I reasoned he was probably already asleep. Besides, he had not returned my call yet, so I did not want to rush things.
The lights flicked on suddenly, and Jess stood in the doorway in her pajamas. She looked groggy, like she had just woken up.
“Can’t sleep, huh?” she asked.
She plodded into the living room, walked over to the couch and pushed my feet away to make room for her to sit.
She rubbed her eyes and looked at me, scrunching up her face like she was seeing double.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Talk about what?”
“Well, you’re clearly worried about tomorrow. You need any help obsessing over it?”
“I’m not worried, Jess. Not really. Excited? Sure. Nervous? Maybe slightly. But not worried, no.”
She froze suddenly, and then she jumped up off the couch, her eyes going wide as they always did when she got a brainwave.
“I just realized something. We never held a bachelor party for you! Oh, I’m a terrible best friend!”
She dashed off in the direction of the kitchen. I yelled my protests after her, but I knew it was useless. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no deterring her.
She returned a few minutes later, her arms full. Her laptop was peeking out from under her armpit, and she was balancing two glasses and a bottle of what looked like champagne in her hands. I shook my head in amusement.
“Last night of freedom. We’re going to slut it up in here, dude,” she announced.
“You’re insane, woman. How are we even going to do that?”
She shushed me impatiently as she put the things down. Then she danced away, and a few seconds later the sounds of RnB music filled the house. It was a bit loud for 3 a.m., but that’s Jess for you.
She picked up her laptop and typed something on the keyboard, then perched it on the table so we could both see. She had navigated to a porn site, or an erotic site of some sort, because there were suddenly strippers dancing on her screen.
She poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to me.
“Let it not be said I failed in my duty as best friend,” she said.
I laughed, feeling myself slowly begin to relax.
“I’m not sure I should be drinking, though. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I have a man to impress tomorrow. I need to be on my best behavior.”
“Ah, fuck good behavior. You want to make a good impression, do that.”
She pointed at the screen. One of the strippers had finally taken off his thong, and he was swinging a massive cock around in small circles.
“Ooh, I’ll definitely try that,” I said.
“Come on then.” She lifted her glass. “To a happy marriage.”
We clinked, and I took a swig of the champagne.
“Don’t worry, dude. He’s going to love you.”
Against my more persistent instincts, I decided to visit my dad one last time. I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing him properly. I did not want the last memory I had of him to be that of an old man smiling genially at a stranger he did not recognize was his son.
Having thrown my suitcase into the boot of the Beetle, Jessica drove me first to Cranberry Woods. As it was Saturday, most of the resident patients were out in the yard or in the supervised fields behind the main building. I scanned the area, knowing it was where my dad was likeliest to be. He wasn’t on the basketball court or any of the other places I could see. It was strange. Dad loved being out in the open.
Perhaps he was in the middle of another episode, and he had stayed in his room?
But I shouldn’t have worried.
I heard my name being called and turned to see him walking briskly towards me. The relief at his recognition washed over me like a wave. I was so happy to see him I seized him and wrapped him in a bear hug.
“Well, hello to you too,” he said as he came up for air.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
“Nice of you to visit. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about your old man.”
“I would never.”
“Right. It’s only been a few days.”
He led me to a small wooden bench overlooking the lake and indicated that I sit down. It was very peaceful, just sitting there watching the slow ripples of the lake. The sounds of the people behind us seemed to fade away.
“How are you doing, Dad?” I asked him after some time.
“Never mind me, how are you? How is work?”
“That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. I’m leaving L.A for a little while.”
There was no need to tell him everything. Not really.
“I got a lucrative job offer just out of town, and I think it makes sense to try it out, see if I can pull it off.”
He continued to stare off into the distance. When he looked at me, I was surprised to see how calm he was, as if he had not heard me.
“Have I ever told you the story of your first fashion show?”
He had. Many times. But I shook my head, because I knew he loved telling this story.
“You were about eight. We had just moved here from Long Beach. Our first house was a tiny little flat just outside town, but it was extremely expensive. I don’t know how you knew, but you figured out that money was tight. I hadn’t gotten a job yet, and I was beginning to worry we would have to move back if something didn’t turn up. You decided it was up to you to do something about our situation. You collected all the old clothes in the house, and I don’t even know how, but you jazzed them up, putting together an actual line. I was called into school the next day because you had apparently insisted on holding a fashion show after school. Your thinking being that if you sold enough clothes, we wouldn’t have to move.”
“Maybe I was just trying to impress Marcus Landry, Dad. The cute kid in class?”
“I know what you were trying to do, Kyler. You saw your old man struggling, and you took it upon yourself to help out.”
I fell silent. In truth, the memory of that fashion show was very hazy, but it had meant a lot to my dad and that was all that mattered.
“I know this place is not cheap, Kyler. It’s perfect, which means it’s unbearably expensive.”
“I just want you taken care of, Dad. It doesn’t matter what it costs.”
“Is that why you’re taking the job? Is that why you’re leaving?”
“You know I wouldn’t leave unless I had to. And it’s not like I’ll just disappear and that’s it. I’ll still visit you as often as I can.”
“I understand,” he said. And he smiled to let me know it was okay. “Now, come on. Let me show you the horse I made in pottery class today.”
I spent most of the afternoon with him, not wanting to leave because I knew how much I would miss him. But I was glad for the time we spent, happy that I had at least seen him when he was himself.
Jess’s goodbye was the one that caught me completely off guard, if only because it was more emotional than I had been anticipating. I stood at the airport terminal, suitcase and ticket in hand, and the knowledge that I wouldn’t be seeing her again for a long time filled me with sadness. Her eyes were moist when she hugged me goodbye.
I tried to think of a snarky comment or a sassy retort but there was nothing. So I just stood there staring at her, wanting to cry.
I wanted to tell her how grateful I was for her friendship, how much she meant to me, but the words seemed bland and cliché. I wanted to apologize for the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see me until after Saul had made an honest man out of me. And to offer her an invite to my wedding, if there would be one. You would be my best man, obviously, I wanted to say. You have always been my best man.
But the moment passed.
I reached over to Jess and hugged her again.
“I want details about that wedding night,” she whispered in my ear. “All of them.”
And I knew she meant it.
Saul had arranged to have me picked up. I had been confused at first, until I realized he was sending his private jet to pick me up. From the information I had, he lived somewhere close to Redvale town. I imagined tall men in dark suits literally scooping me up and carrying me all the way to his house, and then dropping me off at his feet.
To my amusement, there were indeed two tall men in dark suits waiting for me on the runway. One of them stepped forward as soon as they saw me and held out a burly hand in greeting.