I get up and walk to the fridge, so I don’t have to look at him. “It’s been twenty years, Chris. I wouldn’t have married you if I wasn’t over him.” I grab the bottle of orange juice and slam the fridge door closed.
“Well things haven’t been the same since he reappeared.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I say walking back to the table. “I told you; it brought up some old memories seein’ him. You know I’ve been havin’ nightmares about Bruce again. I’m on edge, alright.” I sit back down and pour the juice.
Chris sinks back down to his chair, too. “Well, you should talk to me about it. Stop shutting me out.”
“Alright, I’ll try. Now finish your breakfast before it goes cold.” I’m royally pissed. Why did I tell him about Kyle’s bipolar? I should’ve kept that to myself.
Chris doesn’t touch his food, staring at the plate before finally speaking again. “That photo of him doesn’t really do him justice, does it? When you talked about him you never let on how hot he was, or how masc he was. He could pass as straight.”
Inhaling deeply, I try to keep my cool. “Chris, what’s your point here?Ipass as straight. And if you think he’s so hot, why don’tyoufuck him?” I’m being an asshole, but I’ve lost my patience.
“I think you know what my point is Dan.”
I finally get the courage to look at him again, and what I see is fear. It immediately softens me, and I puff out a breath. “Well, it’s a stupid point. He’s not that hot. He turned into a prissy rich bitch if you ask me.” And the lies just keep on coming. Every time I open my mouth these days they just spew out like vomit.
“Hey, is your work BBQ this Sunday?” I ask, desperate to change the subject and put an end to this argument.
“Yeah, we have to be there at one,” Chris replies sourly.
Chapter 20
Brendan
22 years earlier
Ilook at my watch as I drop down onto the park bench. Ky’s fifteen minutes late. Part of me wants to cop out and take off, but I need to tell him. Need to somehow try to work this out. It’s hard to look at Ky now. I try, but I often need to avert my eyes,his hurt and disappointment too much to bear. We still hook up in secret, but less often, the wall between us growing with each passing day.
At school, Tiffany’s my girlfriend to keep up appearances. I do everything I can to avoid physical contact with her, not only because it makes my stomach churn, but because I want to be faithful to Ky. But I fear he won’t ever want to be with me again after today.
That day four months ago, is never far from my mind, watching Bruce punch Ky in the face, the light in his eyes going out as his body fell to the floor. I was a fucking weak ass pussy, frozen, cowering on the floor, allowing it to happen. Then Bruce turned on me, telling me he’d bury Ky if I didn’t prove myself a man.
So I did what I had to do. I called my friend Tiffany over and she was more than willing to sleep with me. I knew Ky was still unconscious in the house, having been dragged out to the living room by Bruce, where he sat with a knife in his hand. Would he have done it? I don’t know. But I wasn’t going to take that chance. I’d rather lose Ky than risk his life.
“Bren?”
I turn in the direction of his voice and see Ky walking across the park towards me. The day is overcast and grey, the winter wind too cold for any kids to play outside. The swings sway as if being ridden by ghost children and the climbing zone feels like an abandoned house. “Hey,” I say, standing. We hug briefly, my heart thumping heavy with both fear and guilt. “Thanks for meetin’ me.”
Ky’s expression is sullen and wary. “This doesn’t sound good. What the fuck is it now?”
“Can you sit for a minute?”
“Fuckin’ whatever.” Ky sits on the bench, and I join him.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. It doesn’t have to change anythin’ between us, so try not to fly off the fuckin’ handle, okay?”
Swallowing hard, I look at Ky: his eyes cold, his jaw locked tight. He doesn’t reply, so I push on. “Tiffany’s pregnant. I’m gonna do the right thing and marry her, and it’ll keep Bruce off my back. I gotta job lined up as a brickie and I start on Monday so I can rent a flat. You and I can still—”
I stop when Ky stands abruptly. “Ky, please.” I stand too, reaching for him, but he jerks away. His eyes fill with tears, his nostrils flaring as he tries to hold it together.
I want to fucking die. “I’m sorry, but we can still see”—Ky turns, striding away—“we can still see each other. Ky, stop!”
But he doesn’t. And it’s the last time I see him for a very long time.
Seven months pass before I finally get a lead on Ky. An old schoolmate spots him in Collingwood, strung out and too thin. Ky tells this guy he’s working in a gay club, so I guess he’s completely out now.
“Are you heading off?” Tiff asks, lifting Ethan from his crib and holding him to her chest.
