godsdaisiechain

Frank, his best friend, had meant well, saying that being heteronormed wasn't desirable, but now David wasn’t happy, that was for sure.  Why had he said those things?  Why couldn’t he have found a better time?  Said he was still thinking about whether he was ready to move in?  Pointed out that he had never been married, so it was a much bigger step for him?  Then he could have given it a couple of weeks, made a few broader hints about hearing less about Jason, Brian's dead husband. Seen what Brian might do under less pressure.  What an idiot.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that Brian had become oddly closed off and absent ever since they had introduced their friends to each other.  Suddenly, it felt like he mentioned Jason all the time. Maybe that had been a bad idea.  The party.  All those people who thought of Brian primarily as half of a couple.  Maybe they had needed more time to get to know each other before testing their relationship. After all, they weren’t that young any longer.  The guy had lost his husband, maybe he needed more time to adjust to a new relationship. Or maybe David just didn’t want to give up the pleasant companionship and the great sex.

And in fairness, David had mentioned Jason’s death in their very first phone call.  He still could have kicked himself.  How ridiculously insensitive.  And the pictures (the dozens and dozens of pictures) showed how happy they had been together.  How well-matched.  He’d been a fool to open himself up to the idea of loving someone who had lost what was clearly the love of his life.  One of those magical relationships he’d seen so often and never had himself. How could he compete with that? Other than the fact that Jason could never come back? Why couldn’t he just be okay with a steady sex buddy and dinner companion? Why couldn’t Brian?

And the idea that falling out of love was a luxury rankled. How could Brian have said that? What the hell did Brian know about that? Seeing your partner and best friend and lover turn into a hostile, smirking stranger?  And having that awful, mean-spirited presence in your own bed still looking like the beloved companion you longed to have back? Becoming petty yourself in retaliation? It still physically sickened David to think about that awful, anxiety-filled couple of years.  It had taken months before the disgusting taste of angry bile had fully cleared his palate. But then, David had gotten to make that choice, to see that there was no other way.  Brian had been denied that.

Maybe he’d take a nice jog and then eat some ice cream.  The kind they never let him have when he was little because boys didn’t get to eat pink ice cream with those pretty pastel-colored flower sprinkles no matter how much they wanted it. Boys got chocolate ice cream, which still made David gag.

He bumped into one of the Pauls, Brian's close friends, a few days later. The lighter-haired one. David didn’t bother to keep the numbers straight. He’d been checking out a restaurant near David’s work. “David!” Paul was very happy to see him.  Much happier, he thought, than his friends would be to see Brian. Of course, David’s friends seemed to be learning more about Jason than about Brian, who never seemed to talk about himself. David stuck a pin in that realization to ponder later. “How are you?”

“Fine,” David said. They went for a quick drink and chatted about nothing in particular, then Paul set a hand on David’s forearm. 

“Look, I’m glad I’ve got you on your own,” Paul said.  “I just wanted to let you know something, and I didn’t want anyone else interrupting…” David kept his face calm while he quailed inside. “He didn’t mention Jason for months, afterward.”

“Um, what?” David didn’t quite understand.

“You wouldn’t know,” Paul said. “But all this incessant talking about Jason only started when you started getting involved. So that’s good.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” David said, slowly.

“His feelings about you remind him of meeting the love of his life,” Paul said, patiently. “You’re special to him. And he’s terrified of what you’ll think if he shows you anything bad.  That’s why he keeps leading with Jason and not himself.  He’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I know all about the Patti Lupone thing. Silly. Do you know he refused, just refused, to tell us about the sex? That doesn’t happen with him and Paul unless it’s serious. Which was only once before you.” 

“That’s,” David said. “Um.” Paul patted David’s arm. “Wow.”

“It’s a little weird,” Paul admitted. “But college friendships are like that sometimes. I’d be uncomfortable in your place if I didn’t understand. I might think I didn’t mean enough to him. That there wasn’t room for me. I think you do, and there is. He did let you into that bed. That’s a huge deal. You have no idea. And I’ve known him a lot longer than anyone else except Paul.”

“You’ve been very welcoming,” David said. “But…”

“We’re all part of the problem, too,” Paul filled in. “We all miss our friend. We loved him, and them together, so much. That can’t be helping. Don’t give up on Brian. He holds everything inside until he feels safe with people, and even then. He’s always been like that—unlike my leaky sieve of a husband. Try asking him some questions. Don’t let us pressure you into moving too fast.”

“Well, thanks,” David said. “That makes me feel much better.” Then Paul asked what “heteronormed” meant. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to vomit,” David said. Paul laughed and laughed.

“I’m stealing that one,” he said. “I have to get back.”

David mulled that conversation over between junk foods and late into the night. He woke to a light schedule. Couldn’t face the day at work, and decided to work from the apartment. 

Then he got the call.  There was an emergency with furniture. No, really. The client had insisted on picking it out.  Yes. Retail.  No, they were not playing with him.  Really.  The intern got lost and wound up in Ronkonkoma.  Yes, really. No, they had no idea how that happened, either. Yes. It did take a lot of doing to get that far out before noticing. “Really?  You can’t send someone else?”  Further details of office drama, traffic and client emergencies washed over David.  “I see. All right. I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll do it.  Where is that again?”  

It was near the little hotel Jason’s parents exclaimed over. He remembered that, because they had gone on and on about the hotel and how they always loved it.  It was far enough from Jason’s—no, Brian’s, they corrected themselves—house to give them a little privacy.  David couldn’t help but wonder what they needed it for, whether they had loud sex or Brian and Jason had, then pushed that thought from his mind.  

He wanted to have sex with Brian. To wake up snuggled together and chat about nothing particular. To listen to Brian’s kind, supportive, and sometimes even admiring comments about his work, to hear that charming laughter, smell the particular, heady scent of his hair and skin. To enjoy Brian’s playful creativity in bed and come off knowing there would be affectionate comments and cuddling afterward. To not feel pressured into sexual acts he didn’t enjoy. To know that Brian wouldn’t call him “baby” or “sport” or (he still cringed to think of this one) “Captain Wonderwand” because he’d forgotten David’s name.