“I want to help you when you figure it out.”
I cupped the side of his neck, his skin warm and smooth from a fresh shave then slid my hand down his shoulder and tested the firmness of his muscles. “You enjoy your workout. Are you going with Sean?”
He nodded, turned, and kissed my arm.
“Jere, I need you to know something. I enjoy your body very much for obvious reasons and I know you like me complimenting you about it, but you don’t have to be a paragon of male physicality for me to love you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
His brows furrowed, his gaze growing distant for a moment. I let him work out my words in his head. He offered me a crooked smirk. “My body gets you hot and bothered.”
“Don’t distract me. Tell me you get what I’m saying.”
“I get what you’re saying.”
“Good,” I said and plucked his lips. “Now help me down the stairs and go enjoy your workout.”
Jere got me settled on the front porch with a glass of iced tea and my book on recent advances in hydrology systems. He hovered and it was sweet he wanted to spend every second of his time with me, but I knew how much weightlifting meant to him.
“I was thinking we could walk to the cafe for dinner when you get back,” I said as he tied the laces of his sneakers.
“Sounds like a plan.”
When he was gone, I perched my feet on the spare chair and got deep into my book. It wasn’t exactly thrilling reading, but staying up to date with recent technology made me feel a bit better about losing my job. A zephyr rustled my hair, stroking my scalp and I laid the book in my lap. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the sounds of summer, the rough croaking call of an egret by the pond cutting through a chickadee’sfee-bee, while a windchime jingled on a neighbor’s porch. The sudden urge to take a stroll by the water pulled at me, but I was alone, and my cane wasn’t good for trekking through tangling grass and uneven ground.
I resigned myself to the porch, pushing down a hot bubble of frustration. It was difficult being a nature enthusiast and unable to take a walk whenever I wanted. I didn’t want to think about the men that had assaulted me because—they couldn’t handle someone not living according totheirbeliefs? Because they took offense at a queer person breathing the same air as them?I wanted to understand why they thought they needed to nearly murder someone for simply existing and the realization I might never know reached deep into my soul, provoking that anger.
I opened my book, read a single paragraph on the environmental impacts of dams, and snapped it closed, unable to concentrate. Glancing at my phone, I considered calling Ronnie to distract from my thoughts—and to maybe fill in the blanks about what had happened, except she was busy working. I could call Jere, he’d talk me out of my slump, but I didn’t want him rushing home because I couldn’t handle my shit. He deserved to have time to himself, doing what he enjoyed.
If you feel that anger coming on, count to ten and breathe,the physical therapist had said. I gave it a shot and by the time I got to eight, I didn’t feel like throwing my book across the front lawn anymore. But my afternoon was ruined, the simmering rage replaced with an embarrassing urge to cry.
I did my best to clear my mind, pushing all the bullshit to the back of my brain. I thought about Jere and how he’d come back into my life,howamazingly happyhe was and how he would be here for the foreseeable future. It sucked it had taken a tragedy to bring us together and knock some sense into us. But he was here, and we loved each other both as friends and lovers. That was something to be happy about. Thinking about Jere, myself,us together,decidedly was making me feel better. I recalled a great deal of happy memories involving him and our childhood exploits. I hadn’t realized it as a kid, but he'd made my life better in ways I was just beginning to understand.
The hour wound on, my renewed mood allowing me to finish out the chapter of my book. Sometime between turning the page and watching a squirrel running across the lawn, a thought popped into my head–those that can’t do, teach. I zoned out staring at my feet propped on the chair. Could I teach? Both Jere and Stella complimented my ability to help them understand difficult topics. I didn’t have a teacher's license, but I did have a masters in a relatively difficult field. I could offer my skills as a tutor. I filed that thought away as a car I didn’t recognize pulled into the driveway.
I watched with apprehension as a young man approached. He waved and smiled amicably. “Hi, there. I’m Joey Carsen withReal Queer Voices. Are you aware of our e-zine?”
“I am,” I said a bit clipped.
“I don’t mean to bother you, but we’ve published some articles about your case, and I was hoping maybe to get your experience in your words. Tell me to leave and I will, no hard feelings.”
I nearly told him to fuck off, but as much as I wanted to know what had happened to me, equally I wanted to express my feelings about the matter. I invited him to sit with me and I answered the questions I was comfortable with. The guy was polite, and we ended up making light chit-chat, off the record. He seemed angry about the snail’s pace in apprehending those responsible and came off as passionate about the media refusing to cover my case, all things I hadn’t considered. In turn, I let him know about the charity event being thrown for me and he told me he’d include it in the article to help boost turnout.
When he was gone, I closed my eyes, focusing on what was important: I had Mom and Ronnie and friends that cared about me, and I had my best friend that loved me in my arms every night. I was actually a pretty lucky guy.
My mother returned home first, and I accepted a kiss on my cheek.
“Do you want to come inside?” she asked.
“No thanks, Mom. I think I’m going to wait for Jere.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jere
The sound of the hotel door’s locks clicking into place sent a rush of excitement through me like that thing I’d learned in high school about drooling dogs and dinner bells. Closed doors and secured locks meant privacy, and being alone with Danny meant we could do whatever we wanted without having to explainwhy. I hoped Danny would tell his mom and Ronnie soon, because it was becoming difficult not touching him the way I wanted to when they were around.
I set the heavy duffle bag on the chair in front of a curtain-drawn window and regarded Danny who was looking over the room’s amenities. It wasn’t a fancy room by any stretch, more sleazy than snazzy, but it had what was required—a bed and a bathroom.
He flashed me a coy smile, his eyes hooding as he glanced at the duffle bag. We’d been planning this evening for two week and anticipation had rode us hard all day. He set his cane against the bedside table and lowered himself onto the mattress. He bounced on the bed a few times, the springs squeaking, and I wondered if he was testing the durability to see if it would handle him riding me. We hadn’t done the cowboy yet and I wanted to try out the entireKama Sutrawith him.
