I sense that it’s hard for Stanley to leave, perhaps because Mikey is just through that front door and down the hall. But at least when he walks slowly back to his Jeep he’s standing a little taller than when he arrived.
That evening, after getting dinner for me and Mikey and then cleaning up, I realize I still haven’t heard from Joe, so I call him on his cell.
“Hey,” he says, with a neutral inflection in his voice.
“I was just wondering where you’ve been. I thought I’d see you today.”
“No, I’m staying here. I took on some overtime. I’m working straight through the next four days.”
“Were you going to tell me that?” I inquire, biting back my frustration.
“Does it matter? I imagine you’re plenty busy there.”
I let out a long frustrated sigh. “Of course it matters. Are you mad at me? Is it your intention to punish me? Because it feels that way.”
“I’m not punishing you, Trisha. I just don’t feel like being around your husband and his drama.”
“Oh.”
Geez, that makes me feel just great.
“How is the patient?” he asks.
“Sleeping a lot. I guess it’s the medication they have him on. He has another appointment tomorrow. I’ll know more then.”
“Okay. Well, I better go.”
It’s lousy how distant and cold he’s being, and I can’t believe how much it hurts. I guess based on what the others were saying I should’ve expected something like this, but I didn’t. I had just hoped that Joe would be a big person about all I’m dealing with. Now it seems it was too much to ask.
“Okay, goodnight then. And I hope you miss me a little, because I sure miss you.”
I don’t wait for his reply and end the call immediately because I can’t bear to know if he didn’t respond. Right now my heart can’t take any more bruising.
A few minutes later I set up my bedding for the night on the living room love seat. Once under the covers I lie for hours with my eyes wide open, wondering what I should do about Joe pulling away from me. I also think about my conversation with Stanley and what I should say to Mikey about it. His frankness about their sex life was startling and it made me wonder what it must be like to prefer having sex with someone similar to you, rather than your opposite. Do all men have desires to sleep with other men and just don’t act on it? Does Joe? I can’t imagine him with another man, but who knows. I don’t have any interest in having sex with a woman. But maybe anything is possible if your path is crossed with that certain person. Who knows?
I continue to toss and turn, thinking again about Joe being distant, and how I’d give anything to have him holding me right now. It feels like my whole world is upside down again just when everything was starting to feel so right.
What if Mikey hadn’t taken those pills? I probably would’ve been with Joe on top of his rig watching the stars tonight. And I’d be happy—so very happy, not blue and defeated like I feel right now.
As my mind whirls, sleep doesn’t come to me until almost dawn.
I wake up to my shoulder being gently shaken.
“Trish, Trish . . . wake up.”
I hear Mikey’s voice as my mind clears. I blink and then try to stretch out my legs, but my feet are stopped short by the end of the love seat.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Almost nine, and my appointment is at ten.”
“Shit!” I cry out as I sit up and swing my legs down to the floor. I notice he’s fully dressed and his hair is combed back. “Why didn’t you get me up sooner?”
“You looked like you really need the sleep.”
“Did you take your pills?”
“Yes.”
“And did you eat first?”
“I did. But I appreciate how thoroughly you’re taking care of me. Thank you for that.”
“Sure, I guess,” I mumble.
I throw some clothes on, brush my teeth and grab a granola bar while Mikey fills my travel tumbler with coffee. My head is still foggy as we load into the car so things almost feel normal until I remember that we’re headed back to the hospital for a follow-up for my gay husband following his suicide attempt.
What is my life?
Mikey is more lively today, especially after his session with his shrink. He agrees to a stop at the market on the way home, and follows me around the grocery store making suggestions, and only stopping to rest once.
“When do you think you’ll be going back to the shop?” I ask as we wander through the produce section.
“I’m thinking about going in a couple of hours tomorrow. You know, easing back in.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” I try to sound casual but I’m desperately hoping this means he can transition back to his place in a few days. I need to get my life back.
Later, we’re both quiet at dinner, but after we’ve cleaned up I sit down at the kitchen table to pay bills and he joins me at the table.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Sure, yeah . . . I’m fine,” I stutter.
“Trish . . .” he says in that knowing voice.
I look down at the table and shrug. “I’ve been better.”
“I wish none of this had happened,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turned down.
“Wasn’t it kind of inevitable? You can’t stay in the closet forever. Well, I guess you can, but that shit always catches up with you. You know?”
“I know, but I liked our life.”
“So did I, but our life was cloaked in secrets, and so we’re someplace else now.”
He looks down at his hands, his gaze shadowed by sorrow.
“If I ask you something do you promise to be honest with me?” I say.
He purses his lips like he just bit into something unsavory. “Do I have to answer if I don’t like the question?”
“Yes, you do. I think you owe me an answer for this.”
He looks off to the side and huffs. “Oh Lord help me . . . here we go. What is it?”
“Did I make you gay?”
His eyes grow wide. “I’m not sure I heard you right. Can you repeat the question?”
“Did being with me, and you know . . . how I am and stuff. Did I make you gay?”
“Is that what you think?”
“Well, I overheard a guy at the station say that and I’ve wondered ever since.”
He looks pissed off. “Are you serious? Someone actually said that?”
“I always told you they’re assholes.”
“Is the tiny house guy also an asshole or is he an exception?”
“Except for him.”
Mikey sits up tall, like he’s exerting authority. “Well let me set you straight on this . . .”
“Straight?” I ask with an arched brow. “Nice double entendre.”
He smiles and nods but then his expression gets serious again. “This is really hard for me to talk about. Especially with you, but Joanne, my psychiatrist, said I need to.”
“I know. It’s not easy for me either but I think we both need to be honest about all of it.”
He nods. “Actually the truth is that you made me bi, Trish. I’d only ever really wanted men before you.”
“But—” I start to say.
“Look, I made up those previous girlfriends that I told you about when we met.”
“No shit?”
“I’m telling you the truth now.”
“Wow. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. As a matter of fact, you’re the only woman I ever wanted to have sex with, well except for Jennifer Lopez back in the day. So take that as a high compliment.”
“JLo? Well, she’s got a great ass. And apparently you like ass,” I tease.
His eyes light up. He always liked it when I teased him.
“Guilty as charged. And may I point out that you have a great ass, too.”
“Um, thanks?”
“Seriously, Trish. You’re amazing . . . one of a kind in every way. And for the record, I’m still attracted to you. If you’d ever . . .”
I roll my eyes at him. “Well, don’t hold your breath on that one.”
He narrows his eyes. “So does Mr. Tiny House want to have sex with you too?”
I nod. No reason to hide that fact now.
“And have you?”
I give him a look, my brow arched.
Folding his arms over his chest, he gives me a pretend stern look. “We’re still married you know.”
“Don’t even go there with your double standards,” I warn him.
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. So how tall is he anyway? I bet he’s a handful.”
I ignore his questions and pose one I really want an answer to. “You know what I don’t get? Why do you act like you want to stay married to me, Mikey?”
“Because no one keeps me on my toes, makes me laugh, and loves me like you do. And you’re strong enough for the two of us.”
“I’m not sure those are the right reasons.”
“They’re as good as any others. And you should know, I’m up for negotiating. We could be very modern and do an open marriage if you still want to get it on with Mr. Tiny House.”
With every minute passing he’s sounding like the old, outrageous Mikey. Well, the gay version of the Mikey I used to know and love.
“Open marriage? That would certainly be convenient for you and your men interests. But it’s not anything I could ever see me going along with, and I know for a fact Joe wouldn’t either. Besides, you should know that Joe makes me happy.”
He shrugs, and reaches over, gently tucking my hair behind my ear so it’s not hanging in my face. “Don’t blame me for wanting everything. I still love you, Patricia McNeill.”
“Hmmm.” I cup my chin in my hand. “Last night as I laid awake I came to some conclusions about all of this. You want to hear what I came up with?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Of course, you normally aren’t one prone to philosophizing.”
I smile, knowing he’s right. “Separate from whether someone is established as gay or not, I believe two people can discover a powerful connection and attraction with each other that leads to falling in love, which has nothing to do with gender. And I also believe we can love more than one person, perhaps in different ways.”
He nods, animatedly. “Yes, and all those years ago, I fell in love with you. That will always be the truth regardless of the rest of it.”
I look at him eye-to-eye. “And who else have you loved since? Stanley?”
He swallows hard but doesn’t answer.
“He came to see me yesterday. Melissa told him what happened.”
His expression falls. “He shouldn’t have come here.”
“Apparently Melissa called Stanley for help because she was so overwhelmed at the shop. By the way, I had no idea he’d quit. It sounds like you really need him there.”
“He can’t come back to the shop. He wouldn’t want to anyway.”
“I think he does. That was the impression I had, but you’d have to talk to him.”
He shakes his head. “What else did he say to you? I’m so mad he showed up here . . . he has no right.”
“Look, I was very unhappy when he drove up, but by the time he left I knew that talk needed to happen. He was very brave.”
Mikey’s eyes soften.
“He loves you. I can’t imagine why, but he does,” I tease with a smile.
Mikey averts his gaze, with a guilt shadowing his expression. “He does.”
I lean back. “What a fine mess we’re in. I think you should talk to him. And I also think I should talk to Joe.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Yes, I am,” I agree.
He makes a face. “I never liked change, you know.”
I nod. “I know. And this is a lot of change, big change. But I think you’ll be happier after things settle.”
“And what about us?”
“We could try to be friends. I still have some rage to work through, but I think it’s a possibility.”
“And the house?”
“I think it’s time to sell it. We both need a fresh start.”
“Maybe you’re right, but that’s a hard one for me. I need to process all this.”
“Well, talk to your shrink about it. That’s why she’s making the big bucks.”
Scooting forward, he places his hand on my forearm. “You know, I’m so glad we’re talking again. Thank you for that, Trish.”
“Well, next time a little less drama to get my attention, okay? I care about you, Mikey. I always will. Don’t forget that.”
His gaze is intense, a mix of gratitude and tenderness. “I won’t,” he says.
Chapter 20: The Open Door
We must believe we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained. ~Marie Curie
A while later, Mikey falls asleep in bed while watching a movie on his smartphone. I’m not ready for bed. Instead, I have a strong urge to sit outside with a glass of wine, and unwind from all that happened today.
When I step into the back patio I realize that the top of Betty is where I want to be most of all. After transferring my drink into something more portable, I grab my jacket and head back outside.
Once I’ve scaled the ladder and settled into the lawn chair, I take a deep breath. The sky is black velvet, scattered with pinpoints of starlight. I open up my wine and take a long sip. Damn, I wish Joe were here.
After enough stargazing and wine to inspire me to stir up trouble, I pick up my phone and turn it in my hand. I’m so tempted to call him but considering how things are going, maybe texting would be safer. I quickly tap out my message before I lose my courage.
Hi Joe . . . you’ll never guess where I am
Several minutes pass before my phone pings.
Where?
On top of Betty.
You scaled my rig without me there?
I did. Are you mad at me?
Are you alone?
Of course.
Then I’m not mad.
I wish you were here with me. I have wine.
Don’t fall off the roof.
Not that much wine.
Good.
I miss your kisses.
I bet.
Do you miss my kisses?
Maybe, from what I can remember of them.
You’re so mean.
I warned you that I was.
If you were here I’d remind you about my kisses . . . over and over.
Hmmm. Maybe I do miss them.
When are you coming back to me?
When you can’t take another moment without me.
Oh good. So you’re on your way?
I’m in my bunk, just back from a call
Are you naked in your bunk?
No.
Can you just lie and say yes?
I’m naked. Buck-naked.
Sigh. See now you’re getting me worked up.
Is that so?
It is, and I’m getting cold. I wish you were here to warm me up.
Don’t you have a jacket? What are you wearing?
Just the moonlight falling over my shoulders, and my memory of you.
Slow down with the wine, Trisha.
Make me.
You aren’t really up on my rig buck-naked putting on a show for the neighborhood, are you?
Maybe you should come by to see for yourself. It’s worth the trip, I promise.
You’re making me crazy, woman.
Good.
No, not good.
Hey, I want to break into your tiny house.
Oh, good God. Why?
Because tonight I want to sleep in your bed.
Is that so?
When did you wash the sheets last?
Seriously? I had no idea you were that prissy.
No. Not that.
Then what?
I want your scent on the sheets so I can wrap the sensation of you around me.
How much wine did you bring up there with you?
I lick the last bit of Pinot Noir off my lips. I’m a little buzzed. Gotta say though, this recklessness makes me feel like I’m letting my hair down in gale force winds, and damn, I like it.
I look back down at my phone.
I brought enough wine for the two of us, but you weren’t here.
I’m worried about you getting back down on solid ground.
Don’t worry. I’ll land on my feet.
I’m sure you will, T. Rex.
So how do I break into your house?
You turn the doorknob and push.
The door isn’t locked?
No, it never was. The door was always open.
Damn you. All the tears . . . I miss you.
Don’t cry. You’ll fall off the ladder.
I’m going down. Since your door is open guess where you’ll find me?
In my bed?
Yes. Buck-naked.
Damn, Trisha.
Waiting . . .
Patiently?
Impatiently waiting for you
I take it slow heading back down the ladder, and get all the way down to the ground before I realize my jacket is still on the roof, next to my chair. I wobble a little as I approach the ladder to go back up, and then it occurs to me that I don’t give a flying fuck where my jacket is.
Instead I do what Joe said—I turn Betty’s knob and push, then step inside.
There’s just enough moonlight for me to feel my way through his tiny house after I pass through the tiny door. It never occurs to me to turn on the lights Pulling off my clothes, I dramatically throw each piece aside as it parts from my body. Every step takes me closer to his bed.
I get a warm feeling just pulling his bedding open. Knowing Joe’s been in this bed with his skin against the sheets, his scent lingering, makes me wild. I climb inside his man-nest of a bed and roll around like a joyful puppy, pressing my face into his pillow to take deep breaths. I’m the happiest I’ve been since that day he joked with me about breeding and kissed me silly in the station office.
As the minutes pass, the sheer rightness of being in his bed, combined with the emotional exhaustion of the day, makes me drowsy and I doze off.
Some time later I wake up to a tall figure at the end of his bed.
Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) Page 19