“No, you knew I was intoyou.” He wore a sneaky smile as he flashed a glance my way.
And damn…
Damn, damn, damn.
Talk about a man who could charm the sense right out of me.
“Yes. The whole making out with that guy at the bar just confirmed that you had already at least partly come to terms with your natural inclinations, which was why I even brought it up.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. It really helped too, just knowing that someone else knew. And I appreciate that you didn’t go running to Eric and tell him.”
“I don’t think Eric would have wanted me to do that, Ty. We all know how hard figuring shit out about ourselves is.”
Although, I was talking about so much more than my sexual orientation.
“This is sounding deep, like at the aquarium,” Ty said, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and spent a moment texting.
“Booty call?” I asked, which made him roll his head back for a laugh.
“Mommy call. I asked her to let me know when she got home from hanging with her friends tonight, and she just did.”
“Do you check on your mom a lot?”
This time when he looked at me, I could sense his uneasiness. “I assume Eric’s told you a little about that. I mean, you’re his friend and all.”
I certainly hadn’t asked about him checking up on her without knowing about his past with Tricia. Her depression and how, as a kid, it was just the two of them, with him having to grow up a little fast to help her cope.
It had taken a long time for Eric and I to achieve the kind of friendship where he shared those sorts of details with me, and for me to open up to him. We both had our limits, though, and I’d always figured that was why we were able to be friends. We allowed one another to share as little or as much as we needed to at any given time, appreciating our mutual desire for privacy—for secrets.
“Does that make you uncomfortable that he mentioned it?” I asked.
“Not really. Eric doesn’t know the half of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He knows the obvious, about her depression and that it was tough for her sometimes, but there were some rough patches, and it was…definitely hard.”
He left it there, cut short, as though he’d wanted to say more. I stayed quiet, giving him an opportunity to continue on or withhold whatever truth he was carrying around with him.
“I love her, and I know she couldn’t control those impulses, but it can be hard to look into your mother’s eyes, the person who’s supposed to be the strong one, and see that she just isn’t there. That she can’t be. And now I know all the things I could have done. That I could have asked her parents to help out…or friends, or teachers, but I didn’t know what was going on. That all seemed so normal back then. It was what I knew.”
I could feel in the way he talked about it, this sense that he felt abandoned as a kid, and I knew that feeling all too well.
“Can’t choose the circumstances we’re born into. I know that too. Although in my case, I just ended up in the system.”
Ty stopped, which halted me. “Like Jesse? Adopted?”
I scoffed. “Not adopted. No. Just in a shelter. Didn’t fit in very well. I didn’t always have this height or build to back up my fighting, and had my ass handed to me enough times that I thought it was safer to get away.” I could tell by the look on Ty’s face he was surprised by how much I’d disclosed.
Definitely a first for me, considering that wasn’t something I was eager to share with anyone. But it felt good to share it with him. I had every intention of stopping there, but it was as if Ty pulled the words right from me as I went on. “Thirteen-year-old kids on the streets of New York learn a lot of tough lessons. Just how cold the weather can get…and how much colder people can be.”
Ty was quiet, as though waiting for me to share more, but that was all I could manage. If only he knew how much it meant to get even that much out. With most people, I had a series of stories I’d crafted to keep my privacy. But maybe since I actually wanted to get to know him—reallyget to know him—I didn’t want to tell him the same old bullshit.
“I’m sorry. That sounds horrible,” he said, his concern doing more for me than he could have possibly known, if only because I’d given so few a chance at consoling me about my past.
