“I chickened out. I sat at the bar and smiled at some people.”
“Was it a negative experience?”
“No.” He exhaled roughly. “It was fine.”
“What held you back from talking to people?”
“I didn’t want to.” He laughed, and she joined in.
“Okay, so you didn’t want to do something, and you didn’t do it. That doesn’t sound like a failure to me. It sounds like you did exactly what you wanted to do. Nobody says you need to go home with someone. Gay men, bisexual men, can be loners just like anyone else. A night at a gay clubs doesn’t need to end in sex to be a success.”
His mouth must have fallen open in stupid surprise, because her expression changed. Softened even further, and she put down her pen. “Brent, you went and sat in a club surrounded by people who looked at you and knew you were queer, and you enjoyed a few beers. You smiled at people. Was it stressful?”
“No.” He smiled, just a little. “It was fine.”
“Wow.” She nodded. “Feeling fine about something that significant your first time out is a big deal.”
She didn’t add,for an idiot who just admitted nearly twenty years into adulthood he wasn’t straight, but Brent could add that for her. “Baby steps,” he muttered.
“More people could do baby steps in their lives. It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
But Jess was moving. He didn’t have time for baby steps. Not anymore. “And if I want to take the shortcut to knowing myself properly, so I can get my wife back?”
“The problem with shortcuts is that they get us in trouble. If you want to work on your marriage, you need to go through all the steps to get there. And that’s if your wife is willing to do that, because she may not be. You said she’s moving away, right?”
Two hours down the road. He puffed his cheeks up, then exhaled noisily. “Should I just give up?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. If she’s willing to listen, tell her how you feel. But you’ll need to start being honest about what you want. All of it. And first of all, with yourself.”
12
He should have known he didn’t have much time.
The day after he took her stuff to storage, Jess called him. He was at work, and saw the missed call when they got back from responding to a collision on the rain-slicked roads.
There was a text message as well.
His heart sank. He grabbed his phone and headed out back. Standing under the overhang, he glared up at the grey sky while he worked up the courage to check it.
Jess: First open house was bonkers busy, even in the rain. House has multiple offers coming in tonight. Holy shit. Do you want to be involved in picking the one we go with?
Their separation agreement gave her full control of the house. A year ago, he hadn’t been able to function beyond getting himself to work and back. And it was her house. Her dream.
Not anymore.
Now she was moving on.
He was tempted to fire back a quick message of support, waiving his involvement. But then he heard his therapist’s voice in his head.You’ll need to start being honest about what you want. All of it.
Taking a deep breath, he replied.
Brent: I’m at work for a short shift. What time is the real estate agent presenting the offers?
Jess: Whatever time you want.
He didn’t deserve that kindness.
Brent: I can be there at eight?
