“I, ah, started to collect them a few years ago. My grandfather had this old copy, and I really loved it. So, I usually bought a new one at each new place, new hospital,” I said. “Easy to find in Europe, easy to ship out or bring along. Good way to remember places I had been.”
Jack was quiet, but his mouth worked his lips like he was trying to find the right words to say.
“Jack.”
My heart couldn’t take this awkwardness with him.
“Jack,” I said again, “I knowyou don’t want to, buttell me what you came to say.”
Jack
Damnit. I should have known.
“Ok, Perrin,” I said, meeting his eyes, and even though I wanted to look at his bookshelf, I didn’t want it to be a distraction from what I really needed to be talking about. I had spent a fair amount of the rest of the afternoon convincing myself that I could have this conversation with him and it wouldn't change anything although I knew it wasn’t true. He knew me too well, knew it probably since lunch, if not before, that this conversation was brewing inside of me.
Other than knowing the conversation needed to be had, there was also the idea that maybe if I shared first, it would make it easier when he was ready.
“I need to tell you something, Perrin,”Isaid, standing in his living room, no shoes, tie loose, and shirtsleeves rolled up, and suit pants still on.
“Ok,” Perrin said, moving in front of the fire, and sitting on the large hearth. He angled himself toward the heat naturally, like he always did.
Isaton the ottoman. Our legs were almost touching. “Something about me.”
He looked closely at me and nodded, holding my eyes until I had to drop them.
“I’m listening, Jack.”
I nodded at his words, and sorted through how to begin the conversation that could very well end with him leaving me. Maybe still being friends, but maybe never lovers again. Low, slick fear burned in my stomach.
It was time though. We had lunch dates, even when we were both at work, and we stayed the night together. We went out to movies and concerts together. People saw us as a couple, even my family did.
“You know how you told me you did those skiing competitions, when you were younger?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said carefully, with his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
“Did you pay attention, you know, to the sport?”
“I definitely watched the Olympics. But, I mean, it was Texas. Football was always what people talked about the most.”
“Did you remember a kid who skied, East Coast though, Paul Biandi?” I asked.
Perrin’s eyes clouded for a moment, and he furrowed in concentration.
“Paul Biandiwas a little out of the league of what I was doing, Jack,” he said. “But, I mean the Olympics, they mentionedBiandia bit, especially when he won gold at such a young age,” he laughed. “He was fast, could hold an edge on ice. I remember that,” he shrugged.
I blew out a breath.
“Ummmmm,” Perrin continued, his forehead still crinkling. My heart hammered in my chest, noting how hard he was trying to follow the conversation,eventhough he had no idea where this was going.
“Oh,” Perrin finally said, meeting my eyes again. “He got injured, and then well, there was the testimony during that trial with his former manager. He led all those kids to come forward about the abuse . . ..”
I took in what he knew, thought about how to move that to what I wanted to tell him about me. If I hadn’t known him as well as I did, I wouldn't have seen his eyes widen slightly, and his eyes flick to my leg.
“He, ahhhh, injured his knee - I think,” Perrin said, slowly.
“Before the Mann’s adopted me, my name was Paul Biandi,” I said simply, studying his face as I told him.
The name was harder to say than it should have been. It had been years since I had dusted it off and used it, and it certainly didn’t seem to fit anymore.
