Hidden Wishes

by Lisa Manifold

  “I’ll call you,” he kissed me once more.

  “Okay. No rush. Let me know you got there all right and take care of your mom.”

  “I—” he stopped. “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

  I kissed him and held his face in my hands. “I’m here, whenever you need me. Take your time. I’ll miss you, too.”

  He kissed me, and it was a hard, almost desperate kiss. Then he bolted from the car, stopping to look over his shoulder at me. I blew him a kiss, not caring if anyone saw. He smiled, but it was a painful smile.

  Then he was gone.

  Why did it feel like we’d just said goodbye? Not the kind of gone-on-a-trip type either, but more.

  I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. I put the car in gear and headed home.

  As I drove, I thought about how I wanted to ask him to move in when he got back. Or would it be too soon?

  Declan texted me when he got in. He seemed stressed, so I didn’t do anything other than text him back, letting him know once again that I was there if he needed me.

  I felt lost on Sunday. I was used to being with him regularly, and time alone felt weird. Instead of moping, I cleaned the house, and went for a run as the sun was setting. When I got back, I saw that he’d called.

  When I listened to the message, it was clear that things weren’t going well.

  “Hey, Bry, listen, this is not great, things aren’t great right now. I’m outside the hospital, and my dad’s heart is, they’re not sure how long he’s going to be in here—” his voice broke. “I’ll call you again when I can. I’ll be at the hospital most of the day, so if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry.” He paused. “I miss you. I miss everything we have been building.” Then he hung up.

  How did he do that? He always seemed to be on the same wavelength as me. I felt a wave of tenderness, and more, wash over me at the thought of him. I wished that I could be there with him, but a new boyfriend is nothing to bring home to a sick bed and family drama.

  I sent him a quick text to let him know that I’d gotten his message, and to call me when he could.

  Then the work week started again. For once, since I’d met Declan, I was glad that we were neck deep in clients. It allowed me to not think about him although I missed him. I missed his smell, his touch, his laughter. Everything.

  We texted all week, but on Thursday, he finally called.

  “Hey! I’m so glad to catch up with you!” I said.

  “Hey, how are you doing, Bry?” He sounded worn and tired.

  “Better than you, from what it sounds like. How’s your dad?”

  “It’s not good. I don’t think he’s coming out of here, although Mom and the family—well, they don’t want to hear it. But that’s where I think this is heading. It’s heart failure, and… well, it’s heart failure.” I could hear his voice tremble a little.

  “I’m so sorry. Do you want me to come out—?”

  “No!” His answer was swift, almost harsh. Then his voice softened. “No, I don’t think I could handle you seeing my family. They’re very Midwestern, very traditional.”

  What did that mean? “Do they not accept you?”

  “No, they accept me, but… it’s complicated.”

  “You don’t have to explain that to me, Declan. It’s me, remember? King of complicated.”

  “Yeah, I knew you’d understand.”

  “I miss you,” I said.

  “I miss you, too,” he whispered. “Listen,” his voice rose, “I need to get going. I’ll speak with you again.”

  And he hung up.

  That was a bit off. Something wasn’t right. Then I mentally kicked myself. Of course it wasn’t right. His father was dying. No one else would accept it, which meant Declan had to deal with the coming loss of his father, as well as the burden of the family. I’d seen this when my grandmother had passed away. No one wanted to admit it, but she was dying. Didn’t slow the death process down a bit to have people pretending it wasn’t happening.

  I mentally put my paranoia and foolishness away. I was reading things into things that weren’t there. It came with the territory. I’d been burned, and I still had the scars to prove it. These kinds of things didn’t heal as quickly as one might like.

  Poor Declan. Given the apparent denial of his family, no wonder he insisted on honesty. Once more, I thanked whatever deity might be above watching, because I needed the honesty. After learning what I’d learned about Graham, I needed to know that my partner wasn’t feeding me a line of bullshit.

  The longer I was with Declan, the more I saw that things had been so skewed with Graham and me. While it hurt—boy, did it hurt—his turning me down was the best thing he’d ever done for me. Not only had it brought me Declan, but it had forced me to look within myself, to be honest with myself for probably the first time in my life.

  When we’d first started dating, Declan’s willingness to be openly affectionate put me off. Rather, it made me nervous. Which made me look at why I was so reluctant to even hold his hand in public.

  It wasn’t anything horrible. I certainly wasn’t ashamed to be seen with him. It came to me, on one of my runs, that I was ashamed of me. Not anyone else. But me. Myself.

  I’d grown up in a family where people weren’t gay. Oh, there were probably some closeted gay folk floating around the family tree somewhere, but not out in the open. No one knew if there were. I knew I was gay early on. Like, when I was ten. I wasn’t interested in girls. Only the bad, rash, adventuresome boys in my class. Most of whom were not my friends, which made things a little easier. I learned pretty quickly that liking the other guys more than girls was something to stay away from in this crowd of boys.

  I’d kept that secrecy, that quiet sense of shame, of being in the wrong, my whole life. I had a feeling that while he hadn’t articulated it—because he was trying to get the hell out and not be blamed for it—this was part of the reason that Graham had left. He knew, or sensed, that I wasn’t capable of being open. Not that he helped.

  It felt really good to be able to be honest—and angry—about Graham. I’d not run into him again after I saw him at the gym. I was grateful. While I’d calmed down, I was still angry at him. I didn’t know how to let it go, and I was trying. But I thought about what he did, the bullshit that he laid at my door, rather than accepting the crap he’d done, and it pissed me off all over again. I’d been ignoring it because I didn’t want to have that anger impede on my time with Declan in any fashion, but with him being gone, it was me and my thoughts.

  Which left a lot of time for thought. Probably too much thought. Over thinking things was usually not a good thing.

  No, I came to the conclusion that I would need to see Graham and speak my piece. Let him know that I knew, that I knew who and what he was, and tell him I was angry.

  And then I would tell him I never wanted to see him again. It would be done. I would be done, and that chapter of my life would be over. A memory.

  For the first time since we’d broken up, I was ready to let him go.

  I just didn’t realize how quickly I’d get my chance.

  19

  Declan was still stuck at his parents. He said it would probably be another week, and I wasn’t looking forward to the weekend alone. I sounded Tib out, but she and Seth were taking her boat out, and they’d be gone all weekend. No one saw X anymore. He was on a perpetual honeymoon.

  So it was just me. I went for a run on Saturday morning, shopped, and did all the chore-like things I could think of.

  I was missing Declan.

  Midday, I thought, I’m doing the same damn thing I did with Graham. Making someone else my life. I adored the guy, but I don’t want to be in the same shitty place a couple of years from now.

  So I texted some of the guys from the basketball team and joined them out for a beer. I found that I had fun, and I laughed and drank more than I should have.

  When I got home, after having to call Uber, I fell into bed. I needed to do t
hat more often. I checked my phone again. Declan hadn’t called.

  This much silence felt… not right somehow. I texted him.

  Hey, I miss you. I hope everything is as okay as it can be. I’m here if you need me.

  Then I waited.

  A watched pot never boils. Neither does a watched phone. He didn’t text back.

  Sunday morning, I got up and went for a run again, my frustration at missing Declan and not hearing from him resulting in a seven-mile run in which I did my best to wear myself out.

  When I got home, I leaned against the tree in front of my place, stretching and working out my still-tense muscles. I felt someone come near me, and I moved over so that I wasn’t blocking the sidewalk.

  Looking up to see if I needed to move further, I saw Graham standing in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d lost his best friend.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I noted that he didn’t sound confident, smug, or gleeful, as he had the last time I’d seen him.

  “What do you want?”

  His eyes looked like they were tearing up. Really?

  “I didn’t expect that, Bry.”

  “Bryant.”

  “What?”

  “Bry is my nickname, reserved for my friends. You aren’t a friend anymore.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  How in the hell did he dredge up the nerve to look shocked?

  “I do. What do you want?”

  “Can I come in and talk to you?”

  I sighed, letting the leg I’d been stretching drop. “What else is there to say?”

  “More than I want to be saying in the middle of a sidewalk!” Some of his old Graham attitude surfaced.

  I sighed again. I really didn’t want to talk to him, for all my big promises to myself. It felt wearisome, and tedious. Be careful what you wish for, right? It was hard not to roll my eyes in front of him. I wondered if Dhameer had made this happen—which was surprising. I hadn’t thought of him, or wishes, or anything like that in weeks.

  That’s when I knew I’d moved on completely. It wasn’t even worth it to yell at Graham. I just didn’t care anymore.

  But I also wasn’t an asshole, and he looked all pitiful.

  “Fine. You can have fifteen minutes, and then we’re done.”

  “What, do you have a hot date?”

  “No. I just don’t want to hear any more.” I didn’t wait for his answer but moved to the front door. As I stepped in, I didn’t turn to see if he followed me in.

  He would. He obviously had something he needed to get off his chest. Fine. Let him say whatever, and then he could leave. And I could take a shower and think about Declan.

  I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I didn’t offer him any. I didn’t want him to feel welcome, or to try to stay. When I’d drunk half the glass, I set it down on the counter, and then looked at the clock, and back to Graham.

  “Your fifteen minutes start now. What is it?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, a sure sign that he was nervous. I remembered that I hadn’t seen it very often—he wasn’t usually nervous with me.

  With my new eyes, I wondered if that was because I took whatever shit he dished out. I was so in love with him. And he didn’t appreciate that. The way he left showed me that.

  Perhaps the shoe was on the other foot? It was interesting to think about, but not right now. I needed to focus on hearing him out and then getting him to leave.

  Even though a part of me was astounded. Two months ago, I’d have been delighted to have him standing here.

  “I miss you,” he said.

  “Okay.” I didn’t say anything else.

  He waited. I wondered what he was expecting. But then, I wasn’t the same guy he left standing with a marriage proposal in hand. He didn’t know that.

  “I wanted to tell you that I am sorry about how things ended between us.”

  I blinked. Did he really just say that? “You’re sorry? For how things ended?” I repeated slowly.

  “Yes. I know that I—”

  I held up a hand. “You cheated on me.”

  He opened his mouth, probably to deny it. I shook my head.

  “No, don’t bother with denials. I asked you to marry me, you said yes, and then when I hesitated on something, said, well fuck this, and hauled ass out of here. With your pre-packed bag,” I narrowed my eyes. “To a car that was waiting for you. For the life of me, I’ll never understand why you didn’t just say no. But I’ve thought about it—I don’t think you expected me to pop the question. I think you were on your way out, and I momentarily distracted you from your goal. It doesn’t matter,” I shook my head again. “I also know that you were cheating before you left.”

  He was surprised, but then his normal, confident air took over. “Now you’re just talking crazy. Does that make you feel better?”

  “No, it made me feel worse. But I know you went straight to someone else’s house, and then later information revealed you’d been a couple with this guy before we ended.” I shrugged. “Seems pretty simple to me. You met someone else and didn’t want to tell me.”

  I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. Light came in through the window, putting him in a spotlight. The light made him look like a painting.

  But it was a painting I was no longer a fan of.

  “Which is fine. Things change, people fall out of love. But you could have told me, you could have said no to my proposal. Instead, you led me on, told me it was my fault we couldn’t get married. And for what? To ease your shitty guilt? That’s what pisses me off, Graham! I have no problem with unpleasant truth! But you didn’t give me that! You pawned your bullshit off on me, and made me question myself, made me wonder why I wasn’t enough, what I did wrong.” I stopped, looking up at the ceiling and taking a breath.

  Then I looked at him again. “When in truth, the problem was you. You were cheating, fucking some other guy while still professing to love me. Had you been honest, this could have been avoided. But you would have had to take responsibility for your actions, and there seems to be a lot of an avoidance of that, doesn’t there?”

  He looked at me, and I could tell he was trying to find the words to refute what I said.

  He couldn’t. His head dropped. Then he met my eyes again. “Yes. You’re right. All of it. I’m a shit, and I treated you like shit. But you’re wrong. I have always loved you. Always. I was angry because you wouldn’t be honest about me, about us. About what we were together. Your family thought I was just your good friend, your roommate,” he sneered the word. “And you did nothing to change that. You let them think less of me.”

  I interrupted then. “They didn’t think less of you. They knew you were one of my best friends, and they valued you for that. There was no lessening of you, or what you were to me. You were important in my life, and they knew that. Don’t distract. You want me to believe that you cheated because my family didn’t know about us?”

  “Yes! You were totally fine with them thinking one thing about us, which wasn’t true! How do you think that feels? My family knew about us! They knew we lived together as a couple, not roommates! I was honest with them! You never gave me that same courtesy.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. And for that, I’m sorry. It must have hurt. But that doesn’t mean you get a pass on your hurting me. You mind fucked me, Graham. You know you did. I get that you were angry, and from a distant perspective, I understand. But for me, up close, no, I don’t understand. You made something that wasn’t ideal utter shit. To avoid the fact that you cheated.” I shrugged again. “Listen, I thought I wanted to see you, tell you all about yourself, and now that you’re here, I find I don’t want to rehash everything.”

  “Why? You’re so happy with your new lover boy?”

  “What I am doing or who I’m with is not your concern. Why did you want to see me?” I wasn’t going to entertain any discussion on Declan. It occurred to me that Graham
was fishing. He didn’t know that Declan and I were together. Well, he wouldn’t know. He’d have to wonder.

  Graham squared his shoulders. “It doesn’t seem like I’ve done a good job getting to that, but I wanted to ask you if we could try again.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I must have heard wrong.

  “I want to try again. I want to come back.”

  “Come back how?”

  “Let me come home,” he said. His eyes were soft, and he had a small smile on his face.

  “Move back in?”

  “Yes, to start. Maybe not in the same room,” he added. “So that we can work on things.”

  “We don’t need to work on a thing,” I turned around and faced the sink, looking out the window. “There is no we, Graham.”

  I heard him come up behind me, and then his arms went around my waist. He kissed the spot between my shoulder blades that used to make me shiver. “Yes, there is. Listen to us. We’re finally having the fight that we needed to. This is a good thing, Bryant,” he said, resting his head in the spot he’d just kissed.

  My focus was so centered on Graham and managing my own emotions that I didn’t hear anything else.

  Until I heard a voice said, “Well, this is interesting. Am I interrupting?”

  I nearly strained my head whipping my head around. Declan stood in the hallway at the entrance to the kitchen, a bag on his shoulder and another one in his hand. I’d forgotten that I’d given him a key. Just in case. Figures that it was now that he decided to use it.

  “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” I said. Fuck. That sounded guilty as hell.

  “Clearly. I can come back later if that’s—”

  “That would be good,” Graham said. He’d turned and had an arm around my waist. Like we were a couple or something.

  “No, that wouldn’t be good. Graham was just leaving.” I removed his arm, glaring at him.

  “Was I?”

  “Yes. Everything that needed to be said has been said.”

  His eyes searched my face. “Are you sure, Bry?”

  He did that deliberately. What a shit.

  “Yes, Graham, we don’t have anything more to say. It’s time for you to leave.”