“You didn’t do anything wrong. Shehad serious issues. She was clearly unhappy, regardless of what you see in thatpicture.”
“Intellectually I get that. But…”
I know what he means. It’s onething to know it. It’s another thing to feel it. I don’t know that it’s so easyto shake from the power of believing that the only possible reason a parentcould turn away their own kid was because there was something horribly wrongwith them.
“I can’t decide which is worse,”he says. “Knowing the whole truth. Or not knowing anything. Neither feel great,but right now, this one feels so much worse.”
“I’ve asked myself that a lot oftimes, too. About Jeff. I know I told you that he…strayed before, but Iundersold it a bit. Didn’t think there was much of a reason to make a big stinkabout it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to remind myself because it makes me feellike the biggest idiot on the planet. Jeff didn’t just have one guy. He had afew interests throughout our relationship. Even when we were undercover, he wasfinding boys in the gang in North Carolina. Totally unethical shit. He didn’tcome out and tell me, but I found out about one…and then I went snooping and foundout about another…and another…and another. He was a busy guy. I found outprobably about three weeks before it happened. We were split up when he tookthat bullet, which is one of the reasons it fucked me up so much. Because Godknows if you’d asked me before that if he loved me that much, I would have saidhell no. But then when he did that, I just…it made me question everything Ifelt about him before that. Made me question so many things I felt aboutinfidelity and love. Not that I was happy about what he did or approve of it orcan even make sense of it. Just that there had to be more to the story. I don’tknow. Sometimes I think he felt so guilty about what he did to me behind myback. Whatever the reason, I look back on all that, and I wonder sometimes ifit wouldn’t have been better if I hadn’t known about any of it. If I’d beenoblivious until that day.”
“And?” he asks, not like a guy who’sjudging me for how I handled the situation or for being dumb enough to havebeen duped by Jeff, but like someone who’s genuinely curious. Possibly becausehe has similar questions about Jordan.
“I’ve kind of settled on the ideathat I’d rather know than not know. Because pretty as a lie may look, if itisn’t real, if you’re spending all this time fooling yourself into believing aplay—a production your partner is putting on—does it really have any meaning?”
“I want to say it does, but withJordan, and it has to have been this way with Jeff a little bit, I figure, Icould tell there was something off. That I didn’t have the whole story. And sowhen I found out the truth, in a way it was a relief because I finally understoodwhat was missing. Even though it was devastating, it was a relief understandingthat I wasn’t crazy for feeling that there was something off all along.”
“And with your mother?” I ask.
“I sure as fuck hope one day I’llfeel the same way. But right now it burns like someone stuck me in the chestwith a hot iron. You know?”
I set my hand on his leg. “I’msorry. It can’t be easy going through something like this on a public stage.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a dickpic.”
“No. But that doesn’t mean it’ssomething people have a right to look at either.”
“I signed up for this, though,” hesays.
“And I signed up for it too.”
He rests his hand on top of mineand squeezes. The warmth of his flesh and his gaze comfort me. I can see why heenjoyed being with Jordan. It must’ve been nice to be with someone who knewwhat it was like, and knowing that I’m not alone in all this soothes the painand dulls the sting of utter humiliation.
Fifty-Seven
Tad
“I can’t believe you’ve never skated before,” I say.
Bryce stumbles forward. I’m notgreat, but I’ve never skated with someone who hasn’t set foot in a skating rinkbefore.
“I bet you’re fucking enjoyingthis right now,” he says as he looks over to some kids who are taking picturesof him as he clings to the wall. I glide backwards before him, encouraging himalong. I think it’s just making him more annoyed because he feels like I’mshowing off.
“You have to let go. That wall ishurting you more than it’s helping you.”
“It’s serving me real well rightfucking now, thank you very much.” He nearly falls forward again, but holds ontighter to the wall to steady himself.
“I’m being serious,” I say.
“So am I.”
“Will you just take my hand?”
“I don’t think you want me to dothat because then you’re going to be landing face-first on the ice with me.”
“I really think you need to trustyour balance a little more. Just let go.”
“We have a long way to fall,” hesays.
“Sometimes you just have to let goand hope for the best,” I say, not just to him, but to both of us.
