by Lane Hayes
“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Nate Erickson.” I offered the puzzled-looking woman my hand and a small smile before turning back to Alex. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Please.”
“Uh.”
“Please, Alex.”
He stared at me long enough to make me sweat. I had no plan. I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to say, but I had to do something. Say something. When he stood and told the reporter he’d only be a second, I felt like I’d won the fucking lottery. I followed him into the empty hallway. His arms were crossed, and his expression wasn’t particularly friendly. Fuck.
“Well?”
“I love you. I know I said that already. Alex, I….” I looked down the corridor at the row of classroom-style doors. I could imagine I was in high school or college, desperately trying to plead my case with my lover. I had the strangest feeling I was getting a do-over. I’d messed up many times before, but I wouldn’t fuck this up.
“Nate, this isn’t the time.”
“It is. It’s the perfect time because I might not get another. I should have been completely honest about what happened with Julie. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I promise. I was trying to keep it from myself. I can’t deal with that kind of pain, Alex. I don’t know how. I walk away. I always have. I tried harder with Julie because she’s my friend and I—” My voice cracked, but I continued, “I understood how she was feeling. I felt the same way. But her sorrow drowns me. I had to step aside. I can’t even talk about him without feeling like a knife is ripping me open.”
When Alex bit his bottom lip thoughtfully, I pressed on. “I’m the world’s worst communicator who wants nothing more than to somehow make you know how much you matter to me.”
“Nate.”
“No. Please. I didn’t know what was missing in my life until I met you. I can’t see clearly or think straight around you, but I don’t need to because I can feel. Really feel, hear, taste, touch. You are music and sunshine and laughter and light. And I don’t think I can live without it now that I finally know what it feels like to be alive.”
“Nate, stop.”
I closed my eyes in defeat. “Okay.” My nostrils flared, and my head ached. I was compelled to act, talk, do something. But I had no clue. Again.
“We can talk later. I need to do this interview and—”
“Let me go with you.”
“What?”
“Let me be with you. For support. You don’t have to do it alone. I can be there for you.”
Alex gave me a long, searching look. I couldn’t read it at first. I was so caught up in my own angst, but suddenly I got it. Complete and utter clarity.
Be there. Be present.
“I’m here, Alex. I won’t leave you. I’ll stand by your side or wherever you need me to be. I won’t leave.”
He crashed his mouth over mine, effectively shutting me up. The feel of his soft lips and probing tongue were heaven. It had been a week since I’d kissed him, held him against me. One horrible, lonely week I never wanted to repeat. I cupped his chin, rubbing my thumb over his scruffy jaw as I deepened the connection. I was too choked with emotion to trust my voice.
“Thank you,” he whispered softly. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’m ready.”
He nodded and reached for my hand, entwining our fingers. I squeezed his hand, wordlessly communicating support and hopefully much more. We were in this together.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he said softly as he pushed open the conference room door.
IN THE way life takes on a surreal quality, the day I came out was a perfectly normal Wednesday afternoon. Sure, I’d announced I was Alex Reyes’ boyfriend to the LA fucking Times, which meant I’d effectively told the world I was gay. Or bi. Or whatever label they cared to give me. The earth didn’t stop moving around the sun, the sky didn’t fall, and miraculously no ghosts came to haunt me. I felt completely at peace.
“Nate, this is Darlene Jimenez with the LA Times. Nate is—”
He paused and gave me a funny stare. I smiled as I shook her hand and finished his sentence. “I’m Alex’s boyfriend.”
“Nice to meet you, Nate.” She gave me a shrewd look before turning her attention back to Alex. “I didn’t realize. Do you mind if I ask a couple personal questions?”
Alex’s hand covered my knee.
“Sure, go ahead,” he said evenly.
Alex effortlessly fielded questions ranging from how old he was when he knew he was gay to what it was like being gay in the Latino community.
“Not easy. My family has always been supportive. I used to think my dad struggled with it for the sake of propriety and tradition. I’ve come to realize it’s more complex than that. We lost my mother years ago, and in a way, soccer saved us. On the field I could be myself, and he could support me. It’s not easy for him to communicate beyond his comfort zone, but he tried. He was there for me. Maybe not always the way I wanted, but in his own way, he showed he cared. These kids at the center aren’t disposable. They are the future. Someone who should have been there when they were needed the most, wasn’t. Being present is the first step to changing a life. I’ve been lucky, and I’m very grateful.”
“Why did you wait until after retirement to come out? What made you decide to do it now?”
“The timing wasn’t right for me.” Alex squeezed my fingers and gave me a sideways grin. “Then I met Nate.”
THE SECOND the conference room door closed behind the reporter, I lunged for him, hugging him tight to my chest. We clung to each other, content to breathe the same air for a moment. Alex backed up and looked into my eyes, smoothing his hands over my hair affectionately.
“Alex.”
“Hmm?”
“We have to talk.”
He licked a seductive trail along the column of my throat, stopping to bite my chin and rub his jaw against mine. I groaned and pushed at his chest.
“Wait. We can’t do anything here, and I need to know something.”
“What?”
“Do you still need space?”
He kissed me hard and shook his head before he stepped back. “No space. I don’t need it. I need you.”
“You have me.”
“Shh. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Waiting for me. Giving me space. Time to process all this. I felt out of control. I hate confrontations with my dad, and that one was as bad as I thought it would be.” Alex stepped toward me and adjusted my glasses before brushing the hair behind my ears before continuing, “I may be more than you bargained for. A former pro soccer player coming out may not make the headlines it once did, but you’ve given up a piece of your privacy just by sitting next to me and telling the reporter you matter to me. They’re going to wonder about you. Where you live, what you do, and if I plan to make an honest man of you someday,” he scoffed with a wry grin. “And let’s not forget, being with me means being an honorary member of a small but fierce Latino family. Solitude and peace aren’t in the Reyes vocabulary. You may decide I’m not worth the trouble or—”
“That won’t happen.”
“I believe you.” His eyes sparkled with humor, and his spectacular smile lit his face to perfection. “Te amo.” I love you.
He chuckled softly and smiled when I clutched his fingers and kissed his hand. We stared at each other with matching goofy grins for a moment.
“Now what?”
He snorted a short laugh and shook his head. “Fuck if I know, but I think our timing is right y todo estará bien.” Everything will be okay.
Yes. For the first time in my life, I had a feeling that might be true.
Epilogue
A buen entendedor, pocas palabras bastan. (Spanish proverb)
To someone with good understanding, only a few words are necessary.
THE DAY was gloomy with dark skies and a chilly wind. The urge to make some innocuous comment about the drizzle mucking up the windshie
ld was strong, but the air was too heavy in the car. I needed every bit of available oxygen just to breathe. I closed my eyes and rested my head for a moment.
“Hey. Nate, look at me.”
I swallowed hard and leaned into Alex’s comforting touch. The simplest gesture of his hand on my cheek anchored me, calmed me. I nodded as I unbuckled the seat belt and turned to face him.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
He set a gentle finger over my lips and smiled softly. “It is. I’m not saying it’s easy, but I think it’s necessary. Julie will be here soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Bran and Jake are driving her. Nate, we’re all going to say good-bye.”
I chewed on my bottom lip nervously but inclined my head in acquiescence and opened the car door. Alex grabbed something from the backseat and met me near a small brick path leading toward the garden. I’d only been here once before, but I remembered someone commenting on how beautiful the grounds were, how peaceful. I couldn’t see a thing that previous visit. I would never have noticed the gigantic oak tree guarding the ornate iron fence at the main entrance or the colorful flowers neatly planted throughout the wide green expanse dotted with small stone tablets.
“I don’t know where—”
“This way.” Alex took my elbow and guided me to the far edge under another much smaller oak tree. He stopped and pointed at the marker. “Here we are.”
Scott Nathan Erickson
The simple stone was clean and surrounded by flowers. It said his name, the year he died, and was followed by a brief quote from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit: “May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.”
I stared at the tiny stone, too overcome for speech. Alex was talking, though. His words were low and spoken in a reverent tone most people reserved for church. I listened to the slow cadence lulling me gently as though he were my life preserver. The storm was over. Long gone. But his presence reassured me, letting me know he was there when I needed him. I squeezed his hand, then bent my knee and lowered myself to kneel at the stone. I ran a tentative hand along the cool surface and gulped hard when a wave of sadness threatened to choke me.
“You know it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to admit you feel more than you ever thought you could. Maybe regret, maybe longing. Give yourself a chance to grieve what never was, Nate. Then you can move on. It may take her longer, but you’ll make your own way.”
He kissed my cheek, resting his nose against my temple in a sweet, loving gesture and then stood and walked a few feet away. I could still feel him near me, but the message was clear. This was mine to do alone.
How do you grieve? How do you properly show complete and utter fracture of your soul for a loss so unexpectedly painful you reel from the effects for months afterward? How do you say good-bye to what never was?
I ran my hand over the small grave a second time and let the tears fall. I had no answers. But the truth was, I’d carried a very heavy burden for too long. I was a master of omitting my truth to save someone else’s. But no more.
If being with Alex had taught me one thing, it was to honor truth, and to try to be as brave as possible even when it cut you like a fucking knife. This truth hurt. Death couldn’t be undone, and it served as a powerful reminder to grasp life while you have it. To take the time and opportunity as it comes with both hands and a heart open to possibility.
I pressed a small kiss on my fingers and laid it over the stone.
“Good-bye, Scotty.”
I stood slowly and reached for Alex, who immediately surrounded me in a strong embrace. He clutched me tightly and whispered to me in Spanish. I didn’t know what he was saying, and honestly I didn’t think it mattered. What mattered was the connection. He was here and now. He was my future.
I pulled back slightly and adjusted my glasses to wipe at my tears.
“Thank you.”
“I love you. I want you to be happy. I think he would too. Someday he’ll have little brothers and sisters to watch down from heaven and—”
Unbelievably, I smiled. “You pregnant?”
He chuckled softly and flashed me a radiant grin. His eyes twinkled merrily and his hair blew in his face, making him look impossibly beautiful. “You’re funny, Professor. No, but someday we might want kids. We’re the beginning of whatever we want to be. No fear. Life is for the living. Honor your dead, but don’t die with them. Our time is now.”
I nodded and smiled at my incredibly beautiful partner. My love. The fact that we were two men was insignificant. It was love that mattered. A few months had passed since the LA Times article had been published. The overwhelming feedback was resoundingly positive. Alex’s coming out was met largely with support, but more important, he was able to raise awareness for the teens at the center. He’d accomplished what he wanted. Personal freedom and a platform of hope for those in need.
As expected the hardest part had been dealing with Tonio. The old man was religious and set in his ways. However, he loved his son more than he was concerned with any possible backlash. He was still prickly at times, but he was thawing. A big sign of his acceptance was when he asked me if I had any clue about the hierarchy of the fútbol clubs in Europe. When I admitted I didn’t, he sat me down to explain the difference between clubs, leagues, and various tournaments while Alex rolled his eyes helplessly. I didn’t mind at all.
I could never have dreamed the life I now have. It’s too crazy. I never imagined finding someone like Alex. I am humbled by his joie de vivre and his bravery. He inspires me every day to laugh, to love, and to enjoy the music in everyday life. I am more grateful than I could ever communicate to have found the right man at the right time.
Author’s Note
LGBT youth centers are vital organizations whose aim is to mentor, counsel, and provide assistance to LGBT youth in a safe and self-affirming atmosphere. Please consider lending your support to help our homeless youth.
Lifeworks in LA:
http://www.lifeworksla.org/
The YEAH! program in Berkeley:
http://www.yeah-berkeley.org/index.php
The Castro Youth Housing Initiative in San Francisco: http://www.larkinstreetyouth.org/programs/housing/castro-youth-initiative/
The Billy DeFrank Center in San José:
http://www.defrankcenter.org/
Also by this author
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The Wrong Man
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Successful owner of an upscale boutique in fabulous West Hollywood, Brandon Good swears by his personal edict to “live in the present.” After a bad breakup, he agrees to dog-sit to keep his mind off his ex. Never did he expect the dog to belong to a man from his past, the only man to ever truly break his heart.
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http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
About the Author
LANE HAYES is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to a well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and her third received an Honorable Mention in the 2014 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate, and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband and the coolest yellow Lab ever in an almost empty nest.
Contact information:
Website: http://lanehayes.wordpress.com
Twitter: @LaneHayes3
Facebook: LaneHayesauthor
E-mail: [email protected]
Better Than Stories
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Table of Contents
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