by Tanya Chris
In all the years of knowing what those words meant in modern English, I’d never before considered the ongoing burden behind them, the fact that some people were required to announce their sexuality to their friends and family in order to have it understood and respected. I’d never told anyone I liked women. Why did I need to tell them that I might, at times, also like men? I wasn’t ashamed of it. I just didn’t want to discuss it with my mother.
I tried to imagine telling my uncle about Joshua. Or worse, my uncle catching me kissing Joshua. Twenty-six seemed too late to reveal this kind of information, not that I’d ever discussed my sex life with my uncle one way or another, now that I thought about it. The guys I worked with made occasional references to “that girl I boned last night” or “my bitch of a wife” but I never did more than answer “yes” when asked if I had a hot date. Given my interest in theater, they probably half-assumed I was gay anyway. Maybe I was over-thinking the whole thing.
The show was more fun now that Joshua and I could be ourselves around each other again. Not having Deb there helped too, as awful as saying that sounded. We weren’t waiting for the next tantrum or ducking around her latest sulk.
After the show Saturday, Carol brought us all together backstage and announced that Deb wouldn’t be coming back. The exact reason why wasn’t stated, though unofficially everyone knew what had happened. Joshua told me he’d gotten a brief text from Deb during her transition from detox to rehab. Her insurance company had agreed to admit her for twenty-one days and she’d agreed to let them.
“I’m a little surprised,” I said in response.
“You and me both. I wish I’d have caught on as quick as she’s doing.”
“Were you ever in a rehab?”
“More than one.”
“So she might not …”
“Let’s not assume the worst.” Joshua hooked his arm around me. “Like I said, she’s catching on pretty quick.”
I’d always known she was smart, and she’d always known what lurked in wait for her. Maybe that would be enough to shortcut the process.
After spending Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights at Sherry and Joshua’s, plus all day Saturday hanging out with him at the gym and the river, I figured I ought to mix it up a little. The smile dropped from Joshua’s face when I told him I wouldn’t be coming home with him.
“You and Sherry need some time alone together.” I leaned back against my car. The theater parking lot was dark and quiet and nearly empty around us.
“That’s true, but you don’t have to police it for us. We’ve been doing the poly thing a long time now. We know to make sure we have our time alone together. It’s time alone with you that’s the problem right now.”
“How so?”
“Sherry gets almost none, and I—”
“We just spent the whole day alone together.”
“Dressed.”
“And last night undressed.”
“But not alone.”
What happened to asking for nothing? Time alone with Joshua; time alone with Sherry; time for the three of us together, because ... yeah; time, somehow, for seeing other people because I didn’t intend to limit myself to Joshua and Sherry; time even for myself, because as fantastic as that physical connection with other people could be, some of my best orgasms were the ones I wrung out with my own hand using a combination of fantasy and the exact knowledge of where and how I needed to be touched.
The situation was more complicated than I’d expected it to be.
“Whoa there.” Joshua brought his hands up to my arms, steadying my mental sway. “Don’t panic. We’ll be patient while you figure this out. I know you’ve never been in a relationship with two people before. We’ll work through it together.”
In a relationship with two people. I was in a relationship. In two relationships. I had a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and it was scary and overwhelming and fucking awesome. Yeah, they were asking for a little more than nothing, but the things they wanted were the same things I wanted—time, intimacy, connection.
“It’ll get easier as time goes on,” Joshua said. “We’ll develop routines. The hunger will fade.”
“Have you ever been in a relationship with two people before?”
“Me? No. You’re the first person I’ve done more than fuck around with since I met Sherry, but Sherry sometimes gets ... obsessed. You’ll see. She’s not real good about balancing it out, to be honest. It’s going to be easier on me the next time it happens, having you there.” Joshua stroked his hand along my jaw and tilted it that fraction of an inch upwards that was still so unexpected and new and dizzying. He kissed me with gentle possession. “And if you get a little obsessive about someone else for a while, I’ll have Sherry.”
“And if we happen to do it at the same time?”
“Then I go back to random bar hookups.” In his eyes, I saw the reason why I needed to learn to do a better job of balancing than Sherry did.
“Not going to do that to you,” I told him. When he opened his mouth, probably to respond with some reality-based protest, I kissed it. I didn’t want reality just then, so I joked to lighten the mood. “Remember, you’re the only guy I’m fucking. If I want cock, where else am I going to go?”
“You want cock?” He tugged my hips into his. The hardness of his erection pressed me back against the hardness of my car. “Come home with me tonight. Unless you really have other plans.”
“I have plans to have plans.” I tipped my head back, granting his seeking lips access to my neck. The look in his eyes just then had made me think of Irene, the longest-standing obligation of love I had. I’d call her tonight, go see her, honor that obligation.
Joshua made a sound halfway between a moan and a growl and straightened himself away from my body. “That wasn’t what I meant to say anyway. What I meant to say, before somebody started throwing the word cock around, was that if you come over, I’ll sleep in the other room, give you some time with Sherry.”
“If my friend doesn’t want to see me tonight, I’ll check in with you guys. If not, maybe Sherry could take me shopping tomorrow after the matinee.”
“She’d love that.”
“I’m not doing anything Monday night. You want to come to my place? I’ll feed you dinner and then we can have a sleepover. Just the two of us.”
“You’re going to cook me dinner?”
“I said I’d feed you dinner, not cook you dinner. I was thinking pizza.”
“Pizza’s perfect.” Joshua sighed and slipped his arms all the way around my back.
Wait, why wasn’t I doing anything Monday night? Shit. The reason I didn’t have anywhere to be Monday night was because I wasn’t in rehearsal because I hadn’t been cast in the next show because I hadn’t even auditioned for the next show because I’d been caught up in the drama of Deb and Joshua and Othello. Shit.
“I forgot to audition for the next show,” I said, perplexed with myself. Perhaps it was just as well, perhaps I needed this block of time to learn to manage two relationships without the added time constraint of four or five rehearsals a week on top of two or three performances a week, and then that pesky full-time job thing. I could always audition somewhere else in a few weeks. Central Playhouse was home, but it wasn’t the only theater willing to cast me.
“Maybe that’s how God intended it,” Joshua suggested, echoing my thoughts, though I’d never have brought God into it. “Maybe He’s freeing you up to move your talents elsewhere.”
It took me a minute to realize he was talking about New York, not other area theaters.
“You’re getting as bad as Sherry,” I told him, following up with a quick kiss that turned into a deep kiss that turned into a long kiss that got a little desperate.
“So we’re going to take these and go use them to fuck other people with, huh?” Joshua slid his erection against mine.
“Waste not, want not.”
It wasn’t the exact same erection I used to fuck Irene with—
the thing went down on the ride over and a new one arose about three minutes after I walked in her door—but Joshua lingered in my mind nevertheless. I was steeped in his scent—unnamable but identifiable, unmistakably Joshua, and freshly released with every brush Irene made along my skin.
Sweet Joshua, beautiful Irene, so much love.
Chapter 27
I’d barely gotten out of the shower Monday night when Derek bustled into our apartment with his arms full of groceries.
“You’re home early.” I unhooked one of the bags from his bulging forearm and trailed him into the kitchen with it.
“I took off a little early. Had to get to the grocery store and get started on dinner. You didn’t give me much warning.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. It hadn’t been my intention that Derek would be cooking at all, but when I gave him a heads up about Joshua coming over, out of politeness and not because I believed he had the right to monitor the occupants of my bedroom, he did more than shrug the information off. He’d been eager to meet Joshua and then, later, disbelieving when I informed him of my plans to pick up a pizza.
“This is like a first date. You’re not going to cook for him? I’ll cook then.”
“So our first date is going to have a third wheel?”
But Derek had already moved on to planning the menu, and it wasn’t really a first date anyway. Our first date had been to Billy’s to see Sherry play, even if I hadn’t known it at the time. No, it was one-on-one naked time that Joshua had been asking for. He probably wouldn’t mind having dinner with Derek first.
“You bought a lot of stuff.” I fished vegetables out of Derek’s reusable shopping bags and piled them randomly on the counter. “There’s only three of us.”
“Well.”
“Well what?”
“You remember when Lissie got all freaked out about the whip marks on my back and you wanted me to prove that Amanda wasn’t abusing me by making her have dinner with you guys, and that somehow turned into a Christmas party involving, like, half of Climb Time? Remember that? Well, karma’s a bitch.”
“I see. Who all’s coming?”
“Amanda. She totally wouldn’t miss it.”
“And?”
“And Lissie.”
“Lissie? Fuck, Derek. You know what went down this weekend.”
“And she’s sorry. I think. A little.”
“You think?”
“She didn’t exactly say she was sorry.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“Let’s not get bogged down in details. I’m pretty sure she’s sorry. Listen, Joshua’s coming at six, right? Lissie’s going to come over at five thirty. If you guys can’t make up, I’ll kick her out.”
“Really?”
“Of course. It’s your apartment, too.”
I nodded my agreement. If Lissie was willing to make up, I was too. I wasn’t even mad, only hurt.
“Speaking of the apartment ...” Derek suggested.
Right. That little outstanding issue. Well, now I knew what I’d be doing with all the free time I’d have from not being in rehearsal.
“I’ll start looking tomorrow. Now the show’s open, I should have some time.”
I left Derek to his maneuverings in the kitchen and went back to my bedroom to continue deliberating over what to wear. I’d never had so many new clothes at once. They were mostly still stuffed in the bags I’d packed them back into after Sherry ran them through her washer and dryer last night.
I wiggled into a pair of jeans. They weren’t as restrictive as the skinny jeans I’d had to wear onstage once, but they definitely, um, highlighted some things. I looked over my shoulder to see if they made my ass look good too and found Derek standing in my doorway smirking.
“Boy when you go gay, you don’t look back. Or rather, you do look back.”
“I’ll have you know my girlfriend picked these out for me.”
“Sure, she did.”
“What do you think?” I held up the two shirts I’d pulled from one of the bags.
“As a guy who’s totally not going to lust after you no matter what you put on, I’d go with that one.” He pointed to the dark red—Sherry had called it cranberry—shirt in my left hand and disappeared down the hallway to his own room. I pulled the shirt over my head and then rummaged through the bags until I found the loafers Sherry had made me buy. Apparently sneakers did not go with everything.
The door buzzer squawked as I was combing my nearly-dry hair.
“You know who that is,” Derek called from the kitchen. With a reluctant sigh, I buzzed Lissie in and waited, leaning against the doorjamb until she pushed through the swinging door at the end of the hallway.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she said back. She walked into our apartment but didn’t sit. I closed the door behind her but didn’t invite her to sit.
“Are you still mad?” she asked after a bit.
“I wasn’t ever mad. I have good memories of us. To hear that you don’t—”
“I do. I’m sorry. I let Deb talk me into a different vision of you—this asshole who hurt people on purpose—and it made me feel sorry for myself, like you’d hurt me on purpose.”
“I didn’t even know I had hurt you.”
“Relationships.” Lissie shrugged. “They hurt sometimes, but overall you were worth it.” She smiled and I smiled tentatively back. “You’re not what she said, not a selfish asshole. I mean, you have your moments, but not always. You were nice to Hannah.”
“Hannah? How does she come into it? I’ve never been involved with Hannah.”
“I know. That’s what I mean. She was willing, God knows, hanging all over you, giving you that adoration you love so much, obviously vulnerable. You could easily have taken advantage of her, but you were just nice to her, like a mentor or a friend, and then you somehow passed her off to Pete, which is weird but seems to be working.”
“Hannah wasn’t my type. I didn’t do anything honorable there, Lissie. I just didn’t get involved with someone who didn’t attract me.”
“But that’s just it. She was vulnerable and willing and you weren’t attracted to her.”
“I don’t know if I like the word vulnerable being thrown around so much. Is that what you think I look for in a woman? Because it’s not. I’ve always preferred strong women.”
“I wasn’t strong.”
“Who says so? You were at a crossroads in your life, sure, but what attracted me to you wasn’t that you were lost. It was how you were finding yourself—the exploration, the unfurling, Lissie being born. It was exciting to be there for it, but if I’m going to be totally honest, I don’t know if I’d have cared where you were in your life. You laughed at my jokes. You fussed over me. You were crazy-responsive sexually. I was attracted to you because you were you, not because you were thirty-eight and getting divorced. Think what you like about me, but give yourself some credit. Are you, or are you not, more than an easy lay?”
“I like to think I’m more than that.”
“Yeah. And you’re not exactly an innocent victim either. We were equal partners in that relationship. If it was wrong, we were both to blame.”
She nodded.
“Was it wrong, Lissie?”
“It wasn’t wrong. It was exactly what I needed.”
“Thank you.” I held out my arms and she walked into them.
Derek poked his head out from the kitchen. “Better?” He came over and added his arms to our hug before dashing back.
When Amanda buzzed up a moment later, I looked at my phone. Nearly six. I hadn’t forgotten that the last time Lissie’s name came up, Joshua had said something about strangling her.
I went downstairs and plunked myself onto the concrete steps leading up from the parking lot, my phone in my hand and nerves jangling under my skin. When I saw Joshua strolling towards me—tall and strong and confident and happy—I stood up.
“Eager,” he said. “I like that.�
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I smiled beneath his kiss, then took his hand and tugged him down onto the stairs next to me.
“I am, but that’s not why I’m out here. I have to warn you that there’s an ambush upstairs. Derek decided he’s making us dinner—because pizza isn’t good enough apparently—and then his girlfriend, Amanda, got invited and then, um, Lissie. I know you’re kind of pissed at her because of some of the things she said, but we talked and—”
“Sweet pea, if you’re OK with her, I’m OK with her. People say shit stuff when they’re stressed. I get it.”
“Thanks. And you’re not too upset about our date being crashed by my friends?”
“I’m not upset at all. I’m …” He paused so long it made me nervous.
“You’re what?”
“I can’t figure out the word for it.”
“Well, try a sentence or something, because you’re kind of freaking me out.”
“I’m ... shit. There ought to be a word. I feel like you’ve given me a gift—wanting me to meet your friends—and I’m proud of you that you can do this—that you have the courage—and proud of myself that I’m the one you’d do it for—that you’d want people to know you’re with me—and also a little bit wishing there was no one up in your apartment right now because you look positively edible and it makes me want to get you naked and say all that to you again.”
I thought the word Joshua was looking for might be love, but it was too big a word for me to suggest so I settled for a kiss.
We stood up to go inside and then I remembered that I needed to give him a heads up about Derek and Amanda too. Derek and I had agreed that if Joshua was going to be in the next bedroom over, he should understand the context of the occasional scream of ecstasy-slash-despair. Joshua shot me a worried look, like “what now?” when I held him back from the door, but relaxed as I explained about their power dynamic.
“Don’t worry,” I concluded. “It’s really not intrusive. The dungeon sounds are minimal and Derek doesn’t walk around the apartment wearing nothing but a collar. I mean, he does wear a collar but it’s discreet and he’s not— You know what? Never mind. You’ll see for yourself. It’s not that weird.”