“Obviously,” I quietly agree, suspecting it’s one of his “things.” Something he needs to feel emotionally secure.
That’s okay. We all have our crutches and hang-ups.
Hell, his trauma is easy to understand, and I totally get it. He was completely open with me from the start, from that very first sushi dinner we shared. That’s where he told me about his parents. About how his father was in a car accident and went from being a successful CPA and a loving husband and involved dad, to a meth-addicted serial cheater who broke his mother’s heart numerous times before ending up dead in a vacant house with a heroin needle in his arm.
And then she died a year later from what was labelled a heart attack, but Daniel swears was a broken heart.
Her death occurred during his second year of college and nearly crushed him. He felt guilty that he was at school and not home with her. That maybe, had he been home, he might have been able to get her help and save her.
It’s doubtful, but we all carry our what-if burdens, and they’re sometimes really fucking heavy, even if illogical at the same time.
Finishing his education and getting his degree, because it was what his mom wanted him to do, was the only thing that allowed him to hold his grief at bay long enough to function.
Then he took a month off, met a guy he fell in love with, who then proceeded to cheat on him.
From that point on, Daniel swore he’d never give someone a second chance to hurt him and destroy him, or trap him in a marriage.
I guess in the grand scheme of things, while my situation was bad, Daniel’s is definitively worse. At least I still have my parents, even if they didn’t know what happened to me, or why I changed so much after graduating law school. Became so driven and focused and refused to take time off for myself.
Rarely smiled anymore.
Until Daniel entered my life and helped me realize I wasn’t dead inside after all.
My parents are still in love with each other and have adopted Daniel into our family. I suspect if I broke up with him, especially if it was my fault, they’d keep custody of him and disown me.
So to speak.
This is his security blanket, his fire exit. Insisting on the hall-pass fuck, I mean. I’m not so blind that I can’t recognize it. If it’s what he needs to quiet his soul, obviously I’ll let him have it.
Mine is an e-mail account that lies quiet, one from which I occasionally send out e-mails to a ghost. Far fewer than I used to. Mostly, now, I write e-mail drafts that I save. But what few missives I do clicksendon…
They’re missives I understand will never be read. They don’t bounce back, so the account was likely abandoned, just like the cell phone number has never been taken by anyone else, and the ghost continues on his way, tormenting me while likely never even seeing me or realizing I’m still standing there, watching.
Scarred.
Haunted.
That’s one thing I haven’t told Daniel about. I don’t want him obsessing over my words, reading them. Those are my thoughts, and I reference things that transpired between me and my ghost.
Private things.
Things I made a promise to never reveal to anyone else. Despite what happened, I am a man of my word.
At least, I try to be.
I lean in and cup Daniel’s cheek. “Prenup to protect you. I’ll even put in penalties for if I fuck up.”
He lays his hand over mine. “I don’t want your money,” he says, and I know it’s true. He does his best to pay for things, even when I refuse to let him. He’s sneaky like that.
He won’t let me buy him a car.
“Besides,” he adds. “You can’t put the HPF in writing. That would be…weird. And tabloid fodder, if someone wanted to burn either of us.” His fingers trace my fingers. “If I can’t trust you to stick to your promises without a prenup, I shouldn’t be marrying you, anyway.”
But he hasn’t said no.
Then again, he hasn’t said yes.
I massage the back of his head and tip mine so our foreheads are touching. “I love you, and it’s okay if you want to say no, or not right now. It won’t scare me away. I won’t leave you. I won’t be angry or hurt. I’m not going anywhere, baby. Just like my ghost doesn’t scare you, and you tell me you aren’t afraid of it.”
