Play Fling

by Amber Scott

  Nancy nodded, set down her water. She met Brooke’s gaze. “My baby boy, my sweet Jason. Oh, Brooke, it isn’t you. And I couldn’t help but try.” She sighed heavily. “You see, my Jason has gone and become a faggot.”

  Brooke’s mouthful of water spewed out. “What?!”

  Nancy half laughed, half sobbed, wiping at the droplets beading her blouse. “It’s true. Jason thinks he’s a gay. A bonified homo. I begged him to tell me it wasn’t true. Just a phase. Some weird post divorce thing, a sex disorder. Something. Anything but queer.”

  Brooke’s mouth went dry. “Jason told you he’s gay?”

  Nancy nodded.

  “Gay gay?” Brooke gulped. Nancy must be mistaken. “Not happy gay? Sex with other men and not women gay?”

  “Yes! But Brooke, you can’t say a word. I’m not supposed to tell you. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Can you believe that? He actually expects me to keep it a secret? Do you know how hard it has been to look you in the eye all this time?”

  “You’re not supposed to tell me?”

  “He wants to be the one to tell you.”

  The room grew smaller, hotter. “You said ‘all this time’. When did he tell you all this?”

  “Before Thanksgiving. Why do you think I made him invite you?”

  “Because you love me?” She stood up, fanned her face. “Because you missed me and finally got over the fact that I divorced your son?”

  “No, dear.” Nancy wiped her cheeks. Humor flashed in her eyes. She even had the gall to sound relieved. Like Brooke was her confessor. “I was hoping you two would see each other and he’d remember he spent fifteen years in heterosexual bliss with you, of course.”

  Of course? Brooke’s hand waffled in the air. How was this even possible? She hardly found words. “So, the party is…?”

  “He’s coming out. He’s met someone and wants to make the whole mess official. I don’t really know why I agreed to it. False hope having you there might change things, I suppose. But then it didn’t change things before, did it?”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Oh dear. Are you expecting someone?”

  Brooke vaguely nodded. “My friend Millie.”

  Nancy smoothed her jacket and rose to leave. Brooke followed her, dumbstruck. Memories flooded her mind, absorbing this one new detail, morphing around it. Jason couldn’t be gay.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” Nancy said, a plea in her tone. “And please don’t tell him I told you, Brooke. It would just break his heart. He really cares about you.”

  Another knock came. A muffled “It’s me,” through the door.

  Nancy opened it. Millie spilled through, arms full of bags, and almost pushed Nancy over.

  “Oh, pardon me,” Nancy said, bright as a Sunday morning. “Good to see you again, Millie. Unfortunately, I’m just leaving. Brooke, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  And then Nancy was gone.

  The front door hushed closed. Millie swept by.

  “What was she doing here?” Millie asked from the kitchen, making the word “she” sound like a murder charge. Cupboards banged, drawers slammed, bags rustled. “I’m opening the wine now.”

  Wine. Yes. Wine would be good. A lot of wine. Brooke sat on her sofa, dazed. Dazed and alert all at once.

  Within moments Millie placed a glass in her hand, a plate on her lap, then took the armchair. If Brooke didn’t know better, she’d swear Millie had heard the whole conversation. Aside from a commanding, “Drink this,” Millie remained silent. She sat, twisting her hair, tapping her chin. But didn’t speak. Was she waiting for Brooke to explain? Could she smell a bomb had just been dropped in here?

  Jason wasn’t having a sleazy affair. He was in love with a man. He was coming out of the closet. At a holiday party. But, who had he been kissing? She mentally clicked down the Thanksgiving guest list. Gordon? He’d been at the mall, too. A date? And Debbie and Sue and their misconception. Had to be.

  Sampson wound around her ankles, purring.

  Could she feel like any bigger an idiot today? First, completely botching her day, then Elliott falling in love with her, now this?

  If Gordon was with Jason, then, did Elliott know? A new wave of embarrassment washed over her. He must have really pitied her. Not once had he mentioned Gordon being gay.

  “Eat.” Millie hovered, watching her. “You’ll feel better.”

  Brooke nodded. She’d almost forgotten Millie was there. She set her empty wine glass aside, letting the tingles of a buzz fill her senses. She forked at her food. Chow mein, fried rice. Sampson pawed at her elbow for a nibble.

  Fifteen years of something missing, something being a little off, all came tunneling down to that single, indelible detail. Gay.

  It all made perfect sense.

  Even in the days when she and Jason did have sex, it was pretty tame and infrequent. She’d never minded. Had sparks ever flown or had her body ever awakened with Jason, like with Elliott, she might have been more concerned about lacking bedroom behavior.

  Everything else had been so good, how could she complain? Jason and she laughed and talked and traveled and shopped. They drank good wine and spent time with friends and family. She’d counted her life as rich, full, until that day antiquing.

  Sampson won his battle of the beg. Brooke gave him a small bite of chicken. He took it to the coffee table, narrowly avoiding her glass.

  One tiny idea of having her own little business had crashed all the lies down. Her lies. Jason’s lies. Now she saw what huge lies they were. To think, this entire time she’d thought there was something wrong with her for wanting more.

  “It wasn’t me,” she said after a swallow.

  Millie leaned forward, posture stiff. She reminded Brooke of a lion preparing to pounce. “What wasn’t you?”

  Ah, where to begin? At the beginning, she supposed. Brooke sighed. “Jason, apparently, is gay. I thought when I left him that our divorce was my fault. Turns out, it wasn’t me at all.”

  “Jason is gay? Really?” Nose scrunched, Millie thumbed at the door. “Is that why Nancy was here?”

  Brooke frowned slightly. “Yes. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow. That’s when Jason meant to tell me. There’s a holiday party.” She watched Millie’s face for reactions. Signs of disbelief, outrage, amusement even. Millie only looked away, rubbing her temples.

  “Wait a minute. You already know?” Brooke accused.

  Millie looked at her plate. “Well, to be honest, I kind of suspected.”

  “You suspected? Since when?”

  “Let’s see. Um, Thanksgiving.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I didn’t know how. How do you bring a thing like that up?” Millie leaned in.

  “I don’t know. Somehow. It’s almost Christmas. You could have told me.”

  “But, it doesn’t matter if I knew or not, Brooke. What matters is how you feel about it. Are you okay?”

  Brooke thought for a moment. “I think so. I feel a little numb, but otherwise, yes. I’m alright, I think.”

  Silence.

  “Is it Gordon?” Brooke asked.

  Millie looked sympathetic. “Probably.”

  “So, that means Elliott knew this whole time.” Brooke said, feeling a new layer of stupid peeling back. What he must think of her. She’d die if he pitied her. Worse, what if he thought fifteen years of living with Brooke had made Jason gay? That wasn’t him, though. That was just irrational fear taking hold.

  “Elliott, as in Gordon’s cousin slash your teacher’s assistant?” Millie said. “Yeah, I suppose he would know.”

  Brooke realized then just how little Millie knew about the whole Elliott situation. In fact, it almost sounded as though Millie was pointing that very thing out. Well, not for long because Elliott was why she’d begged Millie to come over in the first place.

  “I think Elliott’s in love with me.”

  Millie blinked, but otherwise, her expression remai
ned unmoved.

  “I’ve been dating him a little and I saw him today and,” she said, hating how weird it felt to tell Millie this way. Why had she kept it secret in the first place? “And I’m pretty sure he’s in love with me now.”

  Millie nodded slightly. “I see. You are dating college boy. Alright. He’s in love with you. As he should be. Okay.” She took a breath. “You aren’t in love with him?”

  “Of course not.” Brooke almost sloshed her wine in her emphasis. “I mean, how can I be? I’ve only known him a few weeks, really and he’s way too young for me and I don’t want to hurt him, but how could I ever trust a guy like that?”

  More silence. A little relief also, though. She had imagined Millie offended or shocked or pissed. But she wasn’t. She sat calm and cool, twisting a strand of her hair. No, “what are you thinking” or “why didn’t you tell me”.

  Brooke sagged. Amazing what saying a thing out loud could do for a person. No wonder people went to confession. No wonder Nancy couldn’t wait for Jason to tell her. She could only imagine what tomorrow would be like for him. Ew. Tomorrow. Her face flashed hot envisioning Nancy’s holiday party. Gordon and Jason holding hands, kisses, hugs, claps.

  Maybe she wouldn’t go.

  Elliott had to have known this whole time. He must have. Yet he hadn’t said a word. Not even a hint about Gordon. Millie too. She’d kept it to herself. Why didn’t they tell her? How little they both must think of her to, what, protect her like this?

  Irritation dug around inside of her. Small at first, a low scratch, then bigger, wider. Millie put her refilled wine glass back in Brooke’s hand. She nudged her hand to her mouth. Brooke took a sip, simmering higher. Her fingertips tingled with it.

  “So, is Elliott the reason you called me to come over?” Millie asked. “Elliott being in love with you?”

  Her edgy, almost sarcastic tone grated Brooke’s nerves, making her grind her teeth. She nodded. “Yeah. I was panicked. If you’d seen the way he was looking at me today…well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hurt him.” Her voice sounded far away in her own ears. “I thought you could help me figure out how to let him down easy.”

  Not anymore. She found herself wishing Millie would leave instead. Quickly. Being alone sounded so much better. Less irritating. Some space to think, to breathe. To let all this new information sink in.

  “Do you think you could be in love with him?” Millie asked, her gaze intent.

  Brooke gasped. “Me? In love with Elliott?”

  Millie’s eyebrows rose. She nodded.

  “He’s half my age. I mean, what would people think? Besides, I hardly know him. He’s great, don’t get me wrong. He’s amazing. Sweet. Smart. It’s just…it’s just….” She didn’t know. She detested the sound of the words once she said them. She hated how awful they made her feel.

  Why did Millie look stricken all of a sudden? What did she have to be stressed out about? Brooke was the one dealing with one bad revelation after another. She was the one who felt sick. “Millie, I have a headache,” she blurted, uncaring if she sounded mean. Besides, her head did feel a little fuzzy. “Can we talk about all this some other time?”

  Millie set down her plate, but her food appeared untouched. After a moment of eyeballing Brooke like a caged animal, she nodded. “Absolutely. Whenever you want.”

  If she saw how mad Brooke was becoming, she didn’t appear phased. If anything, Millie seemed distracted. Maybe that was what was making Brooke’s annoyance worsen by the second. Maybe Brooke wanted her best friend to be a little more surprised or hurt or concerned about all of this.

  Brooke’s scalp itched and her skin tingled. It didn’t matter if Millie was being obtuse. She just wanted Millie gone. She’d figure out Millie’s reaction or lack of one later.

  After a promise to call, a quick goodbye, Brooke shut the door and went straight to her phone. She dialed Elliott.

  Letting him down easy could wait. First she had to find out exactly how much he knew about Jason. She needed to hear him say it. He knew, didn’t he? He’d known all along. Yes, Gordon was seeing Jason, wasn’t he? Yes, that’s how he’d known, not because he’d somehow guessed.

  Millie had guessed?

  She needed to hear him say she wasn’t dumb or blind or naïve. She needed him to say, if not for Gordon, Jason being gay wasn’t right there for any fool to observe. Because if it was and she hadn’t seen the signs….

  His line rang. She got his voicemail. She hung up and called back. Again, voicemail. She glanced around her empty apartment. She wiped her brow, fanned her face.

  “Screw it.” She grabbed her keys. Why leave a message and wait when she could see him face to face within minutes?

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Three steps outside her front door, something on the ground caught Brooke’s foot. With a screech, she fell forward. Her knees and palms connected to the concrete. Pain streaked through her. Her foot rolled, twisting her ankle. She collapsed, the breath knocked out of her.

  “Ohhhh! Hell, that hurts!” she cried out to the empty night air. “Oh, oh, ohhhhh!”

  Maneuvering onto her rump, she rubbed at her leg, struggling not to howl in pain. Tears stung her eyes, snot burned in her nose. Of all things! The last thing she needed right now was a twisted ankle. It took every ounce of will to stop from sobbing. She took deep breaths, holding each, swallowing her hiccups of sorrow.

  Sitting around crying in the lamp-lit dark, giving in to a pity party, at this late hour wouldn’t help matters. Not that she had much choice. Until the throb radiating up her leg, the pain pulsing through the rest of her ceased. Brooke was stuck.

  So what if she was stuck. Alone. In shock over the day’s events. Wishing for someone she shouldn’t be wishing for. Brooke groaned. If only Elliott were here now.

  He would be if she weren’t such a frigging chicken.

  Her purse’s contents lay scattered over the icy cold sidewalk. Her ass felt frozen. She looked skyward and, no matter how much she told herself crying would only make things worse, the tears fell in a torrent.

  “Perfect,” she hiccupped. “Just perfect. You’re thirty-seven, divorced. Your ex prefers men and you run from the first real love of your life.” Brooke’s hands trembled hearing herself speak the word out loud. “Love? Brilliant. Nice work, Brooke.”

  Did she actually love Elliott? Absolutely. Somewhere between the fanny pack and that stack of books, she’d completely fallen for Elliott Jovovich. And then ran. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Fear, plain and simple. All she wanted now was his arms around her, cradling her, telling her everything would be alright. Telling her he loved her.

  Telling her it didn’t matter what people thought. A sob tore out of her as she swiped at her wet cheeks. She had to call him, to see him. The need gripped her, tightening her chest and throat.

  She’d glanced around the sidewalk and spotted her fallen phone. If she could reach the stupid thing four feet to the left, she’d call him. And say what? Tell him everything over a phone call? But he wasn’t answering, was he? She’d probably run him off with her lame excuses and run for cover earlier today.

  Moving toward it sent a new streak of pain up her leg. She had to get to her phone and call someone. Who else was there to call? Millie? Yeah, right. She wouldn’t kid herself. Millie wasn’t the nursing type. She was pissed at Millie, anyways. What kind of a friend hid what she’d guessed about Jason? And she hadn’t been the least bit supportive tonight, either. All she’d done tonight was get too much wine into Brooke. Probably why Brooke had gone and tripped to begin with.

  Elliott was her only hope. She grasped her phone and paused before dialing.

  Oh no! Elliott wasn’t much of a nurse either, was he? He’d probably pass out on her. On a moan, a new sob racked her body. Her only friend failed her and she was in love with a fainter. A sight-of-blood fainter. A college boy that every one of her old friends, all of her family, would get fat gossiping about.

  And s
he’d do anything to have him with her now, fainting, queasy or not. Elliott would get her into her house, do his best to make her better, then help her laugh off the whole stupid thing.

  Elliott would be there for her. No matter what Jason was, he wouldn’t judge her or blame her. He would simply love her. Love her for her. Clumsy, uptight, prissy her. Every inch.

  Why hadn’t she admitted it to herself before?

  He hadn’t even said the words, yet she knew. She’d seen it in his eyes. Even sitting there on the cold concrete, her body began reacting to the thought of him. Imagining his face, she suddenly, physically ached to see him. Not just to see his smile, either. She ached for his mouth on hers, his body against hers.

  Her vision blurred as she tried to dial. Heat raced up her neck. Dear God. Was she actually getting aroused? No. Couldn’t be. She was just disoriented by the combination of wine and a bad tumble. Not to mention how keenly she was thinking of him, of how much she needed to see him. Plus, she was beginning to feel more than a bit drunk.

  She palmed it, concentrated and called Elliott again. “Please pick up.” Brooke stared at the ground in front of her, listening to the line ringing, feeling her thighs warming.

  No answer. At least she’d stopped crying. She dried her face on her sleeve, and something caught her eye. Half hidden a few feet away in the spotty grass and shrubbery, a small, purple box glinted. Brooke peered closer, blinking away the blur in her vision. It looked like a gift.

  Elliott’s voicemail beeped in her ear.

  “Uh, hi. It’s Brooke. I’m sorry I’ve called so much. If you can, call me when you get this.” She paused. The tingly sensation in her head and hands spread through her body. “I need to see you…as soon as possible.” Not knowing what more to say, she hung up.

  The box held her attention. Was it from Elliott? Was it the silver box? Some sort of goodbye? Her stomach panged. Brooke wasn’t sure she could get herself to her door, let alone the several feet to that box. She should leave it. Getting inside, the closer option, was the practical thing to do. Once she got help, she could get the box. It might not even be intended for her.