by Hayes, Lane
He set his tote bag on the table and pulled out his pink boa. Then draped it over his neck and flung one end over his shoulder before sailing out of the room like a prom queen on a parade float with a regal wave, a straight spine, and a phony grin.
My parents exchanged a look that could have meant anything from “What just happened?” to “We dodged a bullet.” They started talking at the same time.
“He is very strange,” my father commented.
“Is he coming back for dinner?” Mama asked.
I ignored them and raced down the hall after Miles. I caught up with him in the foyer just as the doorbell rang. He picked up his leather jacket lying on the bench and frowned when I threw my hand on the door to bar him from leaving.
“That’s probably your date. Step aside, Sugar.”
His cool tone negated any warmth in the flirty term of endearment. He was angry, unsure, and I had no idea how to fix this mess.
“No. Where are you going?” I asked, shamelessly stalling. I had to wing it and hope inspiration struck. The sooner the better.
“Out. I don’t know where. Maybe to a friend’s house or back to my condo—”
“In Mountain View? Miles, put your stuff away and come have dinner. I want to tell them about us. I’m ready.”
“For what?” he snapped.
“For…us.”
Ding dong.
“Are you getting the door?” my father called from the great room.
“Yes!” I yelled distractedly, bolting the top lock to keep Miles from leaving. “You can’t go,” I hissed.
“Grant, you’re having a moment. Deep breaths. You’ve got this. You don’t need me anymore. We knew the Mary Poppins scenario couldn’t last forever.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you have to solve the rest of your problems on your own,” he said with a calm I knew he didn’t feel when his nostrils flared. “Start by answering the door.”
Ding dong.
And suddenly it was overwhelming. The doorbell ringing, my father’s heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor as he approached, and the click of the lock when Miles pushed my hand away and flung the door open.
“Hi, honey.” Tom stood on my front porch carrying a bouquet and a bottle of wine.
He was dressed like me in a well-cut dark blue suit that made his eyes pop. The top two buttons on his oxford shirt were undone, giving him the business casual look he probably knew my parents would appreciate. His ensemble was a far cry from the pre-teen pink boa Miles looped around his neck nervously.
“Um. Look, this isn’t a good time, Tom.”
“Sure, it is. Your dad invited me. I can’t wait to meet the folks. These are for you.” Tom handed me the flowers and kissed my cheek before turning to Miles with an amused once-over. “Well, look who’s here. Long time no see.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Miles replied in the faux British accent he’d used months ago at the winery.
“Likewise. You’ve got to admit, this is an odd one. The last time I ran into you, you were the boyfriend. Now it’s me.” Tom tugged at the end of his pink boa and grinned. “Either this thing cleaned up nicely, or you have a closet full of them. If nothing else, I should be glad Grant doesn’t have a pool.”
Miles didn’t say a word. He cast an unreadable look between Tom and me then another at my normally boisterous father who looked confused as fuck. I could just picture my mother wringing her hands and saying the rosary in the next room. I hated all this worry and confusion. It was everything I’d done my best to avoid over the past fifteen years. I resented that Tom had a front row seat. But none of it really mattered. I just had to get Miles alone. We’d figure the rest out later.
“Perhaps you should be. Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen. Cheerio.” Miles tilted his chin imperiously then stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
“He hasn’t changed much,” Tom snarked.
At least I thought that was what he said. I pushed the flowers back at him then flew down the stairs after Miles and into the night.
I stopped at the end of the driveway and looked both ways. My heart pounded in my chest like I’d run a marathon in record time. I was up against something I couldn’t name. I wanted to get off the merry-go-round and slow everything down, so I could analyze the situation and make the appropriate decisions. But instinctively, I knew I’d lose if I stopped moving.
I called his name twice. No response. I tried again then stopped when I spotted him in the shadows under a giant hedge, typing on his phone.
“Hey! Where are you going, Mi?”
“My final destination has yet to be determined. Yours should be inside your cozy home with your family and your faux beau. Go on. Don’t waste your time here with me,” he said dismissively as he shoved his cell into his pocket with more force than necessary.
“Come back. I want them to meet you.”
“They met me, Grant.”
This was the second time he’d called me Grant in less than ten minutes. After months of being Gio, honey, or even Ding Dong, I sensed the sudden downgrade was significant, and I knew I wouldn’t like the reason.
“The real you,” I replied.
“They can’t handle the real me. And neither can you.”
I yanked at his elbow and glared at him. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t handle.”
“I won’t. But I will tell you, there’s no room for me back there. I’m not family. I’m not a business acquaintance. I’m not even an appropriate friend. I’m an outsider. Your father recognized it right away and—”
“He didn’t mean anything he said. He’s mad at me for changing the rules and having an opinion of my own. You’re special to me, and I want them to know you.”
“Tonight isn’t a good time. They’re busy meeting your boyfriend right now,” he scoffed.
“You’re my boyfriend. You’re my important person, Miles. You.”
Miles sucked in a gulp of air and let out a sob. The shift from badass diva to something infinitely fragile was jarring. “I can’t be.”
“But you are, and you know it. We both know it.”
He swiped at the corner of his eye with his coat sleeve then contorted his beautiful mouth into a frightening twist that in no way resembled a smile. Then he spoke in a broken voice I wouldn’t have heard if I hadn’t been standing next to him.
“I asked you not to do this, and you promised me you wouldn’t.”
“Things changed, Mi.” I dried his tears with my thumbs and kissed his forehead.
“No. I—I can pretend to be your roommate. I can pretend I don’t want anything more, but I can’t pretend to fit in here. I’m not the kind of someone you need. I’m too…me. You said you understood that.”
“Yeah, I know.” I lifted his chin and smiled, hoping to defuse his sudden spiral with levity. I shouldn’t have bothered. I sucked at levity. “But I like you this way. Your crazy complements my crazy and—”
“My crazy is all consuming. I’m jealous, I’m needy, I’m an ugly crier, and I have a mean streak that’s making me hope Tommy chokes on a Kalamata olive at dinner. See? Issues. And you have a list of your own. How can you help me when you can’t help yourself? We’re a Cinderella experiment that should have ended before your parents arrived. The clock struck midnight, and now I’m scrambling to collect my bits and pieces before I’m exposed. Get it?”
“No, I don’t get it. You’re just afraid.”
“Maybe, but I’m also a realist. I don’t fit. This”—he waved his hand at himself then shook the ends of his boa so hard that feathers flew around us like snow flurries—“doesn’t belong in your world. You have a family, an important job, and a lot of people counting on you. I can’t stand in your way. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Are you—what are you saying exactly?” I furrowed my brow and reached for him.
He stepped away and wrapped his arms close around his middle then shivered and pursed his lips unhappily. “I�
�m saying good-bye. I’ll get my things next weekend.”
I grabbed his arm when he tried to turn away. “No. No, no, no. We’re in this too deep, Mi. We both are.”
He growled angrily and stomped his feet before letting out a wounded cry. “I’m not doing this again. I don’t want to love you. I don’t want to fall for you. I don’t want you to break my heart. I can’t risk it. I’d rather be your friend than risk losing you for good. We did what we said we’d do, Grant. We’re friends now, and we always will be. But you don’t need me now. You’re going to be just fine.”
“Gio!” My mother called from the doorway.
“Go on. They’re going to worry.”
I swallowed hard and shook my head violently. I couldn’t believe how quickly this was spinning out of control. “I can’t go. I can’t lose you. I love you, Miles. I love you.”
He sobbed and pulled me into his arms. “Shh. We’re going to be okay. We’ll be the best of friends. Everyone will be so jealous of us. You’ll see. We’re going to make it just fine.”
He hugged me close then kissed my cheek and stepped under the streetlight. Then he stared at me like a benevolent fairy shrouded in a halo of pink feathers before disappearing from view.
And that was exactly the moment my heart broke.
I felt it crack inside my chest and tremble in an effort to remain whole, but it was no use. The weight and pain threatened to pull me under and drown me in a sea of nothingness.
The howl of laughter from a passing car and my mother incessantly calling my name from my porch pierced the silence. I stared into space and tried to sort through my options and think of what I could say or do to change his mind. But I was lost. Utterly and completely lost.
My mother met me on the stairs leading to my front door. “Are you okay?”
I let out a long rush of air and shrugged. I thought about lying or at least downplaying my emotional state, but it felt like too much work. “No. I’m not.”
“Come. I’ll make you something to eat.”
That sounds about right. I closed my eyes in defeat and trudged up the stairs behind her.
Masculine voices engaged in polite conversation drifted from the kitchen. Normally, I’d have to give myself a pep talk to deal with the unwanted noise. Something to stave my desire to retreat from awkward interaction. But now…I just didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t think of anything calming or encouraging. I felt raw. Bruised and broken and disconnected. Oddly, that disconnect helped me float above the noise in a way that was almost freeing.
Tom stood when I walked into the room and handed me a glass of wine. “Here you go, hon. You can probably use this,” he said.
I took the glass and set it on the island without taking a sip. “Thanks, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
He widened his eyes in surprise and cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”
I snorted derisively. “Yeah. You could say that. The game’s up, Tom. My parents know we’re not a couple. I’m sure they’d invite you to stay for dinner, but we have a few things to discuss so…”
Tom glanced at my father, who shockingly didn’t say a word, then back at me. “Stockton thinks we are. We should sit and discuss this and—”
“I don’t care and unless there’s something you aren’t telling me, neither should you,” I replied.
“No, but…it will look strange to change our story at the last second.”
His smug expression grated on my nerves. I was proud of myself for not snapping at him. I didn’t know what he was up to, but it hardly mattered. I was the idiot who’d agreed to this stupid idea. It seemed like such an innocent thing. Sure, we’d misled Stockton and my parents, but we’d provided the illusion of a personal connection to solidify our relationship. Because it looked good.
“I don’t care how it looks, Tom. It’s not happening. I’ll talk to Stockton,” I said.
My father set his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe Tom is right. Maybe we should let it go. We’ll have dinner tomorrow as planned. The rest is not necessary.”
“No!” I shook my head vehemently and walked around the island then slapped my hand on the surface hard enough to sting. “No, no, no. We’re finishing this my way. That part is non-negotiable. Good-bye, Tom.”
“All right. Keep me in the loop. Stockton isn’t going to like the notion he’s been bamboozled but hey…that’s your call.” He smiled weakly and turned as if to leave but stopped abruptly and snapped his fingers. “Before I go, let me offer a friendly word of warning. Showing up to even a casual affair with someone like Miles will kill everything you’ve worked for. No skin off my nose but certainly something for you all to consider. Take care, Grant. Mr. and Mrs. Kostas.”
My mother followed him to the door. She was big on formalities no matter how awkward the circumstances. It was funny how her absence in any given room could be felt. When I was a kid, I’d stick as close to her as possible. She embodied comfort, compassion, and unconditional love. And my father…he was a hardass. A stubborn, domineering man who commanded respect and expected heart and soul from everyone. Especially me. A couple of months ago, I would have been swallowing antacids and sweating bullets while I feverishly ran over my reasoning and logic, hoping it would alleviate his disappointment in me. But now…I couldn’t muster the energy to feel anything much at all.
“What did you do?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice. His thick eyebrows, creased forehead, and no-nonsense expression were clues, if I needed them, that he was not happy with me.
“I did what I should have done months ago. Maybe years ago. The account is mine, and I’ll close it my way. Without outside interference.”
He set his hand on his chest and gaped at me. “Interference? From me? You forget yourself, Gio. Remember who you are talking to.”
“Oh, I know who I’m talking to. And forgetting myself happened years ago. The crazy thing is, I actually found myself and lost it all again tonight,” I huffed. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. I should have insisted on having complete control from the start. I should have told you to stay home or—”
“What do you mean ‘stay home’? It’s my company!”
“It’s my life!” I yelled, smacking the counter and accidentally upending a bowl of olives. I walked away from the mess and rounded the island, removing any barrier between us. “Mine.”
My father threw his hands up in exasperation. “Your life? What is this? We’re not talking about you. We’re talking about the deal you’re going to cost us because—”
When he stopped as if to find the right word, I let out a humorless half laugh. “Because I’m gay.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Believe it or not, you didn’t have to. I’m not the son you wanted. I get it. I liked sports, but I wasn’t much of an athlete. I got good grades in school, but I was never the smartest. Never the best. I was too cautious, too shy, too quiet. I wish I could have changed me for you back then. I really do.”
Papa shook his head. He looked confused now. I noticed him glance toward my mother who’d moved quietly into the kitchen. She rearranged the olives but kept a watchful gaze on us.
“I never wanted you to change,” he said.
“Yes, you did. I’m not a dad, but I bet it’s perfectly normal to hope your kid is a popular jock who can’t get the girls to leave him alone. Instead, you got a mediocre wallflower with a secret so big it ate him alive.” I raised my forefinger as I circled the dining table like a wind-up toy. “Hockey! Hockey is a great example. You told me on the way home tonight that you thought I was good and that the coach was a jerk for not playing me. Everyone but you knows that’s not true. Hockey practice was my personal nightmare. I was bullied and harassed for being too fat, too slow, too stupid. My skin was too dark, my parents talked funny.…You name it, they said it.”
“Kids are cruel. You shouldn’t have listened to them. This is crazy talk. You’re a good-looking man with a good job, a nice house and I thi
nk maybe two boyfriends…” he winced around the last word but smoothed it over with a lopsided smile. “You can’t blame me for wanting the best for you. I didn’t understand you, but I never gave up on you. That was all you. Why are you so unkind to yourself? Why can’t you see what I see? Why don’t you believe you deserve the best?”
His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was warmth there and compassion laced with pain. As though he could feel the heaviness inside me and was blown away by its magnitude.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
He sighed as he pulled out a dining chair and then slowly sat down. “When you were small, you would hide. Everywhere we went. It became a game. Mama and I would take turns finding you. Closets, behind stairs, under beds. When you got bigger, you’d stay in your room until everyone left. We worried about you all the time. The doctor said you were just shy and that you needed to be coaxed from your shell. I don’t think I was good at the coaxing part. Mama was better at it. She’s more patient, and her voice is softer. But I couldn’t stop trying. When you ended up in the hospital…dehydrated, sick with the flu, we worried. When you came home and lost more weight, we worried again. When you said you liked boys, we worried some more. But we didn’t give up on you. You were the one who gave up on you. Not Mama and not me.”
“You’re right. I didn’t like myself. I hated what was inside, so I concentrated on the outside and…turns out that was a mistake too. I was in pain and I caused pain and for that I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked with tears.
My mother moved to my side and held my hand. “Oh, Gio.”
I squeezed hers in acknowledgment, but I couldn’t stop until I got everything out. “I’m not the same person anymore, but sometimes when I’m around you, I forget to use my voice. I go silent again, and I don’t say what I need to say. I don’t tell you how I feel or what I think, and maybe it’s because I don’t want to disappoint you again. But you’ve got to let me go. You’ve got to trust me. Let me fail if I’m going to fail. Or let me show you that I’m ready for something more. You’ve got to believe in me.”