Over Time

by Kyell Gold

  “Good thought,” Lee puts in.

  “If there’d been an event like that when you were going,” Brenly says to him, “we might have gone.”

  “Might have?” Lee raises his eyebrows and ears and kind of smiles.

  “I would have. I might have dragged your mother along.”

  Lee shrugs and smiles. “It’s nice to imagine that might have helped. I mean,” he says, catching my eye, “I’m sure it would have helped a little, and I’m sure there are families it would help more. Like that kit you met at the airport, right?”

  “I was thinking of him.” I lean back in my chair, not really full, but full enough that I can wait for dessert. Maybe Lee will suggest ice cream again. “I’ll ask Damian if the UFL can publicize the event too. And maybe Polecki will come along, which would help a lot.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Lee grins. “He was practically begging to.”

  “I might get to meet him, too?” Brenly’s ears go up.

  Lee pats his father’s paw. “I think he already has a financial advisor.”

  “You never know, especially with all that endorsement money he’s about to rake in.” Brenly smiles, and I see a lot of Lee in him then. “But I’m still a football fan at heart and it would be a thrill to meet him. I don’t suppose he could introduce me to McCrae?”

  “Last I heard, McCrae hasn’t come out,” I say gruffly.

  That makes Brenly’s ears go a little flat, but he keeps his smile on. “You know, the guys in the office keep asking me what you’re really like, and they want to know what other UFL players I know. It’s always nice to be able to mention one or two new names to them.”

  Lee laughs. “I could’ve introduced you to a bunch of the Dragons players.”

  “When they win ten games in a season, then get back to me.” Brenly grins at his son with the bond of shared fandom futility.

  “There’s some good guys on that team.” I feel obliged to point it out, even though I was only a Dragon for about two thirds of a season.

  “Of course there are,” Brenly says, “but they got rid of their best guy, didn’t they?”

  I’m not sure what to make of that. Lee agrees with him and I say an “aw, shucks” kind of thank you, but it feels funny in a good kind of way. Like, of course my boyfriend’s father should be a fan of mine, but I hadn’t expected to actually hear it. And when he says, “Don’t shrug it off; you’ve done a terrific job so far and I’m sure the Dragons are kicking themselves for letting you go. You should be proud of what you’ve done,” I hear again the echo of Lee in an old college apartment lying next to me in bed and saying the same thing, and left unsaid in Brenly’s words are that he is proud of me, too.

  The gratitude keeps me quiet through dessert, when Brenly starts giving us advice on houses. Mostly he talks to Lee, but he always makes sure I’m listening, and even says, “you both need to be aware of this.” I ask him about the financial benefits of paying cash for a house versus a mortgage and he says it’s more complicated than Lee said.

  I elbow Lee and say, “See, you didn’t know best,” and he gets a little huffy like he does whenever I point out that he’s not a hundred percent right, but before it goes too far, his father laughs and says that generally what Lee said was right, only there are tax breaks that we’d get because the house is considered an investment, and the seller might accept a lower amount in a full cash offer than a higher amount with a mortgage and bank fees and paperwork attached.

  The funny thing is that even though I know he’s a professional—and not just a professional, but someone I’ll be paying to manage my money—the conversation doesn’t feel like professional advice. In this small, intimate dinner, taking account of Lee’s feelings and knowing how to defuse them and work with the dynamic the two of us have, Brenly feels more like he’s giving us advice as our father.

  20

  Old Bones (Lee)

  When we get home from dinner with Father, I check my e-mail and find a set of attachments from Clara about one of the houses we liked which is still available, and she wants to know if we want to put down an offer on it. It’s 540,000 dollars listed, but she thinks if we can go to 575,000, we’ll have a better chance of getting it.

  “We can pull that together,” Dev says. “I got nine hundred thousand from Strongwell, before taxes, and your dad said that if I buy a first home with it then I get a tax break up to, um.” He thinks. “Anyway, he said if I spend up to six hundred thousand on a house, it would work out.”

  “But he also said the seller would accept less if we pay cash.” I start typing out a reply. “Let me ask her if we could do five-fifty cash.”

  “It doesn’t seem like that much less.” Dev puts a paw on my shoulder, looking at the screen as I type. “Is it worth it? Wouldn’t we rather get this thing settled quickly?”

  “If we go to five-fifty, then there’d be more left over for…” I pause. Talking about Dev’s brother at the dinner reminded me of Alexi. I understand that Dev doesn’t want to just hand money over to him, and I’m sure as hell not excited about giving some of our money to a guy who’s betraying his own family like that. Just a couple months ago, I might’ve said fuck him and left it at that.

  But I can’t think of Gregory without thinking of Mother, how scared she was and how hurt, and how all that turned into her lashing out at me. Is Gregory scared and hurt? Is it fair to punish his cub because he’s having trouble dealing with his brother’s celebrity and homosexuality? Isn’t the right thing to do to be charitable and helpful, to extend love instead of turning our backs? I’m sure it’s easier for me because Gregory’s not my brother; there’s no weight of years of affection to sharpen the betrayal. But still, I’d rather Alexi grow up knowing and loving his uncle, and I think Dev would too, if he’d stop and think about it.

  It’s also hard because neither of us knows how much Gregory actually might need. Ten thousand? Fifty thousand? If a lawyer, even a junior one, is worrying about money and Dev’s parents aren’t sure they can help, then my inclination is to guess on the high side. Father drilled into my head that most people don’t keep enough savings around, which is partly why I’m still in good shape despite not working for almost three months.

  Also, of course, because Dev pays for a lot of my expenses. “For what?” he says.

  “For, you know, if…” I type a little more of the letter. “If someone we know needs twenty-five thousand.”

  “Lee.”

  He’s standing on the side my tail is hanging out on, so I flick it against his legs. “Or, fine, I’ll keep the extra twenty-five thousand and I’ll show you how much money it is.”

  He curls his tail against mine and squeezes my shoulder, his fingers digging in. “Leave my family to me.”

  “Oh, is that how it works now?” I turn to him. “So next time Father asks us to dinner, I’ll just go alone?”

  His muzzle scrunches up and he glares down. “That’s different.”

  “What’s different about it?”

  “Wha—?” He lets go of my shoulder and stares. “That’s—that’s dinner. You’re talking about my brother calling me out in the national media—”

  “A callout that nearly everyone ignored or missed.”

  “—and being a total shit to me because of my relationship, and accusing me of—Jesus, fox, it’s not like we’re married and he’s your brother-in-law.”

  I lean back. “No, I guess it’s not. So I’m not an important part of your life?”

  “Hey.” His paw lands on my shoulder again. “No, that’s not what I said.”

  “You implied that it would take a marriage to make me important enough in your life to help make decisions about what to do about your family.”

  “Doc…” He shakes his head. “How did this start out being about what to bid on a house and end up being about our relationship?”

  “Everything is about our relationship. Come on, I drove up to Hilltown and put your father in the hospital, and you’re argu
ing with me about whether I should discuss your nephew’s hospital bills?”

  I say “nephew” deliberately to stress Dev’s relationship to Alexi while taking Gregory out of the equation, and it works at least a little. His frown relaxes and he exhales. “He thinks I’m trying to use that to buy him off or something, and he’ll never accept it now. I know him. He’s all…he’s pissed off that I got famous and he thinks it’s because I’m gay, and he’s pissed off that I’m gay because he thinks I did it to become famous, and…fuck. You know? Just let me deal with it. Maybe he’ll be there when we go up and maybe he won’t, but either way, I’ll handle it.”

  “Fine.” I think I disguise my resolve, but as I turn back to the computer, Dev grabs my shoulder again.

  “Fox.” I turn and look at him, and he stares down at me. “I mean it.”

  “I said, ‘Fine.’”

  “Uh-huh. I know that ‘fine.’”

  I nuzzle his paw. “You wouldn’t object if I gave Gregory some of my money, would you?”

  He laughs. “You can sure as hell try.”

  “All right, then.” I finish and send the e-mail. “I’ll put my fox mind to work on it—what?”

  The sparkle in his eyes isn’t there anymore. He gestures to the computer. “You could at least have waited until we agreed to send that e-mail.”

  “Why? We didn’t make any real decision. I’m just asking if we could offer a lower price with cash.” I’m starting to feel a little warm about it, though, because maybe I did over-react a bit. Gregory is his brother and I’m inserting myself into the problem like I did with his dad.

  “We were in the middle of talking about it,” he says. “You went ahead and asked her. We could at least talk to your dad.”

  I sigh. “Fine. You want me to forward this along to my father, I will. I’ll see what he says, and we’ll see what Clara says, and then we’ll talk about it together and make a decision.”

  He stands there while I forward the e-mail, write a quick note to Father with it, and include a thank-you for joining us for dinner. I turn the computer to him. “How’s that look?”

  “It’s fine,” he says, his tail flicking.

  “Okay.” I hold the cursor over the “Send” button. “I’m gonna click it.”

  “Go ahead.”

  So I do, and then I shut the computer. Dev doesn’t move, so I stand up and put my paws on his arms. “Are you really upset?”

  He’s tense, but he meets my eyes and his ears are up. “I’m still pissed off at Gregory, and I thought I’d be the one holding you back. But you want to go up there and help, and I haven’t worked out shit with him yet. He might not even come to the house when we go up there. Shit, doc, you just went through this with your mom. Would you have wanted me getting all up there in her business?”

  “You were playing football,” I point out.

  “Yeah, but if I wasn’t.”

  I shrug, trying to imagine that. “Sure. I mean, you probably could’ve helped keep me under control. Anyway, it’s academic. It’s over now.”

  He shakes his head. “If we’re really in an important relationship, we should talk about things. You can’t just do things when you think they’re right if they concern me too.”

  “We do talk about things.” It’s a silly fight, and we’ve been getting along so well the last week. Maybe there’s something else going on with him. Whatever it is, it’s not worth getting upset about, and certainly I did act hastily. I sigh, and my ears go down. “I’m sorry, tiger. I’m not going to make the excuse that that’s how I am, because you know how I am. But I should’ve had the discussion with you before sending the message. I know it’s not just about the house price.”

  “Yeah.” He stares down.

  “But.” I place a finger on his chest and he looks down at it, then back up at me. “All I did was ask a question. I didn’t make any decisions. So I think you overreacted a little bit as well. Don’t you?”

  “Hmph.”

  I press a little closer. “Don’t you?”

  He shifts. “Maybe.”

  “Mm.” I lift my muzzle to kiss his nose. “How about you apologize to me in the bedroom?”

  His eyes stay on mine. “I don’t think I overreacted that much.”

  “Okay, then…how about you take your naughty fox back there and teach him a lesson?”

  Now the corner of his mouth quirks, and his ears flick forward. “I don’t think you were that naughty.”

  I step back and look at him. “So…you don’t want to have sex tonight?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Okay, then.” I fold my arms and curl my tail around my leg. “How about you tell me what you do want?”

  He eyes me for a moment and then takes my wrist and leads me into the bedroom. Fully clothed, we sit on the edge of the bed. “I dunno,” he says. “I’m not really that upset. It was just that I was in the middle of talking to you about something and you ignored me.”

  “I didn’t ignore you,” I say, though I’m no longer sure of that. “All I did—”

  “I know, I know.” He covers my paw in his. “It was a silly thing to fight about.”

  I lean in closer. “Is this about the decision we’re making?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, but then he gives a noncommittal shake of his head. “Maybe. I didn’t think so, but maybe everything is. You know, I felt so sure about it a few days ago, but…” His eyes flick away. “You’re not sure and that’s maybe making me think I shouldn’t be sure either.”

  A few days ago. I wonder whether the other events of the last few days are weighing on him. I swing my tail around behind him and press my weight against his side. He rumbles and leans back. “Sweetie,” I say softly, “the one thing that I’ve never questioned is that we love each other, you know? We’re gonna have little fights—and big fights too—but I’m trying to see the big picture, which is more than the fights and more than the good times and more than the families. I don’t want you to feel something because I might or might not feel it. I want you to feel it because you feel it.”

  “Right,” he says, “like it’s that easy.”

  “Oh, come on. I know I’m a fox, but I’m not some mystical mentalist who can change your feelings.”

  He lifts a paw up to my chin and holds it while he searches my eyes. “You sure? Because I think you’re a little bit magic.”

  That warms me, and sets off other reactions in me. “Uh,” I say, trying to find words. “I think we’re magic together sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  “Many times?”

  He chuckles and kisses me, wrapping his arms around me, and when he pulls back I gasp, “Okay, like then maybe.”

  His gold eyes burn down into mine. “Now I want to take my naughty fox to bed.”

  So he does, and I am duly punished for my transgressions, only not really, because the sex is warm and affirming, like washing away the residue of the fight in the best way possible. I get a little punishment back at him, too, squeezing and tickling him after he’s come, and then he pins me to the bed and licks up into my ears, and we go to bed happy.

  The next morning, he goes off to work out with Gerrard, and given my father’s role in that breakup, I don't go along (not like I was invited anyway). Briefly I consider calling Angela, but we were never really that close and I don’t want to bother her if she’s upset. Although she apparently didn’t mind having a meeting about financial assets—but I’m not qualified to talk about those either.

  So I call Mother, because I’m going to have to eventually. We exchange cordial greetings, and then I get to the point of the call. “I’m going to be up there in a couple days. Dev has a thing at Forester.”

  “Oh,” she says.

  “I was wondering if there’s…” How do I say this? “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to look through my room. I don’t want to take a lot, but there might be a couple things.” My eye lights on the plush dragon my father
got me to replace my childhood one, which was locked behind my door when we visited.

  She doesn’t answer right away, and I say, “If it’s too soon, that’s fine. I don’t really need anything and I can wait.”

  “We’ll see how I feel.” She pauses, and then says, “I mean, I think it should be all right. I am sorry about the things that are gone.”

  “But I wanted to say, too,” I go on because I don’t want to dredge up all the shit about her burning my jacket and stuff, “even if you don’t feel okay with that, I’d still like to, y’know. Get together maybe.”

  “Yes,” she says. “I’d like that.”

  “And.” I inhale, preparing to go on, but she cuts me off.

  “I think…just you and your father for now, Wiley.”

  My ears go down and I kind of sag back, there at the desk. I was hoping to move forward more, but of course it’s kind of quick and she’s being cautious. At least she said “for now,” so there’s hope in the future. A distant future maybe, but still a future.

  “That case,” she says when I don’t say anything, “with the cub who killed himself. How did that turn out?”

  “They settled out of court.”

  “Oh. I—I hope the family achieves some peace.”

  “Yeah. I think only time can really do that.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But people can help it along by accepting the Lord’s way. Or,” she says, before I can object, “the way of the universe, if you prefer to think of your life as existing in an uncaring void.”

  “I do. Way less responsibility that way. The only person I disappoint if I screw up is me. And the people I love, I guess.”

  “It seems far less comforting to me.”

  I shift the phone and lean back in the chair. “Okay, if you feel like talking about it…how did you end up going to the church? You and Father never took me, growing up, and he’s still not going. Was it your family?”

  She hesitates. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “I’ve got a couple hours.”

  “It might go better in person.”