Wishing I was drunk, I scull half my beer before speaking again. He’s saying he’s forgiven me, but it doesn’t feel like he has. Bren was the one who texted and suggested we talk, now he’s saying there’s nothing to talk about. It just doesn’t add up. But I move on and answer his question.
“I met James when I was twenty-two, not long after I started working as a paramedic. It was—”
“You did it?” Bren interrupts, a smile spreading across his face. “You became a paramedic?”
My heart swells with pride, but deflates just as quickly. “Yeah, I did.” I avert my eyes, swallowing down the bitter taste of failure. “I gave it up when we had Lu. Lucinda is our daughter. I probably rushed into it too fast with James. He’s fifteen years older than me and we had this sort of civil ceremony about a year after we met. He was—how should I put this—persuasive. It wasn’t legal at the time, of course, but the equivalent of a wedding. Lu was born about eighteen months after that. We were one of the first gay couples granted access to IVF in Australia.”
Bren listens intently, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Fuck, that was fast. You were a dad at what, like, twenty-four?”
I bite into my burger and nod.
“Lucinda, huh? Nice name. You got a photo of her?”
Opening my photo gallery, I scroll to a recent photo before passing my phone over. At first, Bren’s eyes widen as if shocked, but then his face softens, and he smiles.
“The Davies genes sure are strong, ain’t they? She looks just like you.”
“Yeah, she does,” I agree, taking the phone back.
“She’s beautiful, man. You must be proud.”
For the first time since Bren sat down, hereallylooks at me, with all his walls down, and I see him: the boy I used to know better than myself. All the air seems to evaporate from the room, and we remain silent, eyes locked on each other. It’s both intimate and terrifying.
Bren breaks the moment by picking up his beer and finishing it off. He sets the mug back down on the table with a thud. “Hey, you want another?”
“Sure, why not,” I say. “Itisa special occasion.”
Bren heads to the bar, and I relax back against the booth, happy to take a breather from the intensity of…whatever this is. I shouldn’t have two beers on my meds but fuck it.
I love the way Bren still calls me Davies; rolling off his tongue like the last two decades haven’t been lost to us.
Bren returns, beers in hand, and I only get a few mouthfuls down before the questions start again. When did he become such a big talker, anyway?
“What does James do for a living? Seems like you hit the jackpot with that fancy house overlooking the bay.”
“He’s a lawyer. He was wealthy when I met him, but not long after he made partner and now, well, we’re filthy rich. We only moved into that house about a year ago. Before that, we lived in South Yarra. But I can tell you one thing for sure: money doesn’t buy you happiness.”
“Funny how only rich people say that shit.” The annoyance in Bren’s voice is clear. “So, you sayin’ you’re not happy?” he adds.
“Not really.”
“But you love your daughter, right? You always wanted kids, even when you were sixteen.”
“Of course I love her. But teenagers can be, you know, fucking know-it-alls. She doesn’t need me anymore and I feel…useless. Invisible, I guess.” This is the most honest I’ve been with anyone in a very long time, and it’s picking at a wound I’d prefer to keep closed.
Bren screws his face up. “What the fuck, Kyle? She needs you now more than ever. Teenagers like to push the boundaries, but, underneath that, they still need to know you’ll kick their ass if they step outta line.”
I don’t want to talk about Lu anymore, it’s too painful. “Enough about me,” I say firmly. “What’s your story? When did you get out?” The look on Bren’s face has me immediately regretting bringing up the topic.
He shoves the last of his fries into his mouth before answering. “I was in there for seven, good behaviour and all that. After I was released, I got a job fittin’ kitchens in new homes. I was lucky. You remember Jason?”
I nod.
“He knew the guy that owned the company, and he got me the job. Otherwise,” Bren shakes his head, “don’t know where I’d be right now.”
Bren leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth. “Then I met Chris—that’s my husband—and we’ve been together nine years, married six. I opened Beautiful Bathrooms in 2019 and even with COVID fuckin’ things up for a while it’s goin’ okay. Gotta say, I love bein’ my own boss.”
I smile, pleased that Bren landed on his feet after getting out of prison. “I’m really happy for you Bren. Have you and Chris got any kids?” I already know they don’t because Jeff told me, but it seems like the polite thing to ask. I add, “Do you see Ethan?”
