Cop Out

by KC Burn

  At the end, Kurt stared down at his hands, damp toilet paper twisting through his fingers. His throat was raw from talking, like he’d swallowed forty-grade sandpaper, and the skin on his face was stretched tight and painful like a plum about to burst. But Simon hadn’t left. Or thrown a punch. Or laughed. He also hadn’t said a word since Kurt stopped talking, and the silence hung thick and heavy over his cheap-ass couch. Had Kurt destroyed another friendship? Was he well on the way to destroying every relationship in his life? What the fuck would he live for then?

  Simon dragged in a deep breath and let it out, setting the toilet paper tatters to fluttering.

  “Whew. I get it now. And I’m just going to say one thing right now. I can’t answer for you whether you’re gay or not, although I think if you’re honest with yourself, you already know the answer to that. Whether you decide you are, whether you decide to be open… I am your friend. I will always be your friend. And it hurts the people who care about you to see you tearing yourself to pieces.”

  His brow lifted. “Now, I don’t think you need any more booze, eh?”

  A half smile stretched Kurt’s face. Relief had never been sweeter.

  “And I’ve watched you drink your weight in coffee every day for weeks. Do you have any tea, perhaps? Or I can call Jen to bring some over.”

  Precisely what his mother would have prescribed. “My parents are Irish. I have tea, somewhere,” he croaked out.

  Simon slapped his hands on his thighs and stood, towering over Kurt. “Sit. Think. Mull, even. But don’t worry, okay?”

  Against his will, that half smile returned, and he leaned his head back against the couch cushions, letting the domestic clatter of tea-fixing soothe and settle him like nothing had in months.

  Kurt must have dozed for a bit, because Simon sat in front of him again, steaming mug in hand. His mother might have convinced him to keep tea in the apartment, but she’d never get him to have teacups. He took the proffered mug, letting the warmth seep into his cool hands, the heated vapor easing his swollen membranes.

  He waited until he’d had a couple of sips before he spoke. “You really don’t care?”

  “I really don’t. I know some guys will be jerks about it. I hear that Ivan guy in the drug squad gets a lot of shit… but I’ve never seen him twisted up like you. That kind of secret messes with your head. I also know that Ivan’s got as many friends as detractors.”

  “I have to tell my parents, don’t I? I don’t know if Davy will ever speak to me again, but….”

  “But to even have a chance with him? Then yes, I think you need to tell people. And remember, it hasn’t even been a year since Ben died. You both need a chance to regroup. Recover.”

  It didn’t slip past Kurt’s notice that they were talking as though Kurt was definitely gay. But then, as Simon said, if he was honest with himself, he already knew.

  “But what if he never—”

  Simon slashed his hand through the air. “You may have to let him go. Move on. But that worry is down the road. You need to fix you first. Then worry about any potential relationships, okay?”

  The thought of letting Davy go made something ache with emptiness, deep inside. But Simon was right, again. Once he was back to himself, then he could pursue Davy. If not romantically, then at least repair their friendship, somehow.

  “One last thing,” Simon said. “The drinking?”

  “I’ll get rid of the booze. I promise. I’m not an alcoholic, I don’t think.”

  “I don’t think so either. But if you have any troubles letting it go, you tell me. Got it?”

  “Got it. Thanks, Simon.”

  Simon squeezed his shoulder. “Get some sleep. I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve done that.”

  In an almost zombie-like trance, Kurt followed Simon’s suggestion and went to bed. As he fell on to the mattress, the sounds of bottles falling into the trash and dishes rattling as they were placed in the dishwasher floated to him. Maybe having someone take care of him wasn’t all bad… some of the time. Didn’t change the fact that he wanted to be the one looking out for Davy, though that might never be. A single tear slipped from his eye and down his cheek as he faded into sleep.

  With the announcement of a new, interdepartmental task force, Kurt was busy enough at work to avoid having any serious discussions—that weren’t work-related—with anyone. Which meant he was able to avoid telling anyone about the revelation he’d had the day he’d almost beat up Wally. Simon never spoke of it again, except to tell him Jen knew, and Kurt was able to settle back into his weekly dinners at their place. She was still chomping at the bit to set him up, this time with some guys she worked with, and he was thankful for her restraint.

  He still texted Davy weekly, but each week without a response killed another smidgeon of hope. At least Davy hadn’t requested a restraining order against him. He hadn’t had a single drink since his confession to Simon almost three months ago, and thankfully, had no cravings.

  He was able to look at himself in the mirror and say, “I’m gay,” without cringing or blushing. Imagining saying it to his family still gave him the shudders.

  So, he’d done the only thing he could. Dodged them. Fortunately, Caitlyn and Colleen had recently announced that they were both pregnant, again at the same time. It was enough to keep attention off him for a bit.

  Tonight, his dodging was done. Tonight, he had no excuse his mother would accept for missing his own birthday party. He wasn’t going to ruin the party by telling anyone, but soon. It was going to have to be soon. He was ready.

  Maybe.

  He had the cab drop him off a few blocks away, hoping a walk in the cool spring night would help calm him.

  It didn’t work. Every touch, every hug he flinched from. Every word was laced with imagined innuendo. Every glance was sly and knowing.

  His parents hugged him, but there was a strange look in his mom’s eyes. Haunted, maybe. Whatever it was, he’d need to do some explaining to her, and soon.

  After several minutes of greeting guests, feeling like a big phony, he grabbed a beer and settled in a corner, hoping the night would pass quickly.

  Would his life be different now if he’d just invited Davy to the last birthday party? Would they be friends? Lovers? Maybe they’d have attended Kurt’s party as an openly acknowledged couple. He’d never know now.

  “Hey there, bro.” Ian’s voice startled him, and he spilled his beer.

  “Oh, uh, hey.” So far, he was doing a complete shit job of acting normal. If this were an undercover job, he’d be dead.

  “Oh, uh, hey.” Ian mocked. “Is that all you got? I haven’t seen you in months. Not since you ditched me at the bar on Valentine’s. Been holed up with some hottie?” At least Ian didn’t sound too pissed about it. Ian didn’t usually hold grudges.

  “No, just busy at work.” Which wasn’t a lie, at least.

  “Excellent! As soon as we can blow this place, I got us VIP passes to that upscale nudie bar down on Queen Street. The women are fucking hot. Perfect place to celebrate you birthday, and hey, you’re the only single brother I got left. We gotta make the most of it now that Stephanie seems to have landed Dylan.”

  Like that day with Simon, Kurt had had enough. No more lies. “Where’s Mom?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. I….” Pretending was too hard. “I’ve got to find Mom.” He left Ian gaping, but that was the least of his concerns.

  He peered over heads, searching for his mother. He spotted her setting up the cake by the bar.

  “Mom, I need to talk to you.”

  She glanced at the cake, and the crowd. “Now?”

  “Please.” He might not have the courage later.

  “The break room?” she asked.

  The break room was small, but private, and it had a door. “Yes.”

  She pursed her lips, looking both sad and resigned. “What about your dad?”

  The little boy inside quailed. “No. Not right
now. Just you, please.” If she hated him, there’d be no need to risk his father’s disappointment as well. He’d just leave, make a clean break. His mom did pass a silent communication to his father, something he’d only started noticing between couples since he met Davy—and started wanting that kind of connection for himself.

  As his mom walked toward the break room, Kurt glanced over his shoulder. Simon, looking right at him, nodded his support. Jen was there, too, even though he couldn’t see her. He had at least two supporters, and that would have to be enough for now.

  They settled into chairs, and his mom squeezed her hands together. Kurt wanted to as well, but he was afraid of breaking the beer bottle. He drank a little, stalling, but it didn’t sit right on top of the ninja kickboxing butterflies that had taken up residence in his stomach.

  “Please, baby. Talk to me.” His mom’s eyes filled with tears, and he realized his pain had been shared, even though he’d been unaware. If she hated him… no. He had to say it, give her a chance to be the loving mom he’d always known.

  “I’m gay,” he whispered, but somewhere he found the courage to keep looking in her eyes. Because he had to know what she thought, how she felt.

  The welling tears fell, but she smiled through them. She was relieved?

  She threw herself at him, hugging him, and he hugged her back, a bit of his defensive shell melting away. He hoped saying this would never be so scary again.

  Drawing back, she kissed his forehead, then settled back in her chair, retaining one of his hands in hers.

  “Oh, baby. I was afraid you were going to tell me you were sick or something awful.”

  “This isn’t awful?” Kurt couldn’t stop whispering.

  “No, honey, no. I love you. I want you to be happy, and you haven’t been. Not for a long time.”

  Her eyes flared, and she stared intently at him. “Baby. I was right, though, wasn’t I? You were in love.” She pushed his shirtsleeve up and touched his scar. “What happened?”

  Oh, God. His eyes were burning. He devoutly hoped it was the emotional turmoil of coming out putting tears so close to the surface and not some sort of requirement for being gay. Because this was horrible.

  “I was—am—in love. But he doesn’t want me.” He’d told the whole story once, and he didn’t want to do it again. But even when he’d told Simon, he never actually said… hadn’t admitted to himself… he’d fallen in love. He knew why so many people both lamented and praised their first love. It was more beautiful than a sunrise, and more painful than being consumed by the fires of hell.

  He got another hug.

  “Well, if he can’t see what he’s passing up, he’s not good enough for you. Unless he’s married. Then he should be shot.” His mother was truly indignant on his behalf, and his heart lightened somewhat.

  “No, he’s not married. It was mostly my fault. I wasn’t honest with myself or him. I was trying to hide.”

  “And now that you’ve decided not to hide?”

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated.” The anniversary of Ben’s death was a mere two weeks away. He hoped Jon, or even Andrew, would be there for Davy, because he didn’t want Davy to go through that alone. Even though he wanted to be there, wanted to tell Davy he was opening up to people, he also knew he couldn’t let himself tie his coming out to his need for Davy. Coming out had to be for him, not Davy. Davy—and Simon—had made him see he had to be true to himself first or he could never be true to a lover.

  “Do I know this young man? What’s his name?”

  “His name’s Davy. I’ll tell you about him one day. What about the rest of the family?”

  She shrugged. “You need to tell them. Everyone’s been worried about you. It doesn’t have to be tonight. Except for your father. He’s so quiet most of the time, but he sees so much. He’s been as worried as I have, except he thought you were maybe on drugs.”

  “Drugs? Why on earth would he think that?” It was a little too close to the truth, though. His parents might have more children than most, but they didn’t neglect any of them, and never had. They saw each of their kids as individuals, and were never too busy to notice when their kids were upset or hurt.

  “As he said, you’ve got a very stressful job. It’s not uncommon for people under stress to turn to chemical assistance.”

  Kurt’s cheeks heated. No fucking wonder he’d never been able to get away with anything when he was a kid. He’d been avoiding them for months, and they were still one step ahead.

  The butterflies came back with a vengeance. “Will he hate me?”

  “Kurt Patrick O’Donnell. Your father is a good man, and he loves you,” she scolded. “I’m sending him in, and then we’re having birthday cake.” The quick squeeze of his hand told him his mother knew how terrified he was.

  He waited in the break room, alarmed by how similar the situation was to all those times in his childhood where he had been banished to his room for one of his many misdeeds, waiting for his father to pronounce punishment. Usually it was something awful, like cleaning the bathrooms at the restaurant. He wished he hadn’t drawn parallels between the two situations, because it was hard to see how this could end well.

  The figure of his dad filled the doorway, nothing more than a dark silhouette at first. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, trying to hide his transgressions. He was a man, and he had nothing to be ashamed of, even if he feared his dad’s reaction.

  His father took another step, the light fully illuminating his face, questions in his eyes.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Kurt.” His dad settled in the chair his mom had just vacated. His dad was still a vigorous, healthy man, but worry—for him—was etched on his face. Maybe he did have something to be ashamed about, because he’d hurt his parents. Still… this was maybe the hardest thing he’d ever had to say to his dad.

  They sat there in silence. Although his dad didn’t talk much, he also had no patience for dithering. “Spit it out, son. Like ripping off a bandage.”

  Right. Bandage. “I’m gay.”

  His dad sucked in a breath, but didn’t speak.

  Kurt tried to wait, but he couldn’t stand the silence. “I’m sorry.”

  Sean shook his head. “For what, son? Worrying your mother? Yes, you should be sorry about that.”

  “But, what about….”

  “Being gay?” Kurt almost expected his dad’s lips to twist in distaste, but they didn’t.

  “Yes.”

  “Son, if that’s how God made you, then you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. It just took me a minute. I… thought you might have….”

  “It’s okay. Mom told me. I, uh, might have been drinking a lot recently.”

  Oh, there was that stern disapproval he’d been expecting. “And now?”

  “I’m….” Kurt thought about it. Yes, he’d been too busy lately to wallow in his misery, but he truly didn’t need the alcohol. And now he had four people who were solid support. He wasn’t looking forward to everyone else he had to tell, but an enormous black weight lifted off his soul.

  He let out his fear in a long exhale.

  “You’ll need to tell the rest of the family. No more avoiding them, you hear? But your mom and I will let you tell them in your own time.”

  They both stood, and Sean cocked his head to one side, looking at Kurt. “Oh, boyo, this was eating you up, wasn’t it?”

  Kurt bit his lip and nodded. His dad pulled him into a strong hug, the kind that said he was safe at home. Kurt hugged him back, and when they parted, his dad’s eyes were a wee bit shinier than they were before.

  “Go on out there and get some cake before your mother has both our hides. Or your sisters start screaming. Lord, I’ve never seen pregnant women crave sweets like those two.”

  When Kurt returned to the party room, he was amazed at how different he felt. Happier. He missed Davy, almost like he was missing a limb, but there was an unbelievable freedom in the truth.

  The family coaxed
him into the traditional birthday picture by his cake, but Kurt was sure he’d never want to look at that picture. The reminder of happy times with Davy, at his birthday party, sent a shockwave of pain through him, and he could only imagine what sort of grimace he’d conjured up for the camera.

  His mom gave him a sad smile as he cut his birthday cake. She had to know his wish this year was for Davy to return to his life.