Because the few times I’ve witnessed him doing the same thing with Leo, there’s a totally different vibe to Jordan and his actions, a boy taking care of his Sir. Like the few times I’ve been able to dress Leo like that.
And watching Leo dress Jordan is exactly like when Jordan dresses me.
Like the far too few times Leo’s been able to dress me, over the years.
I wish I could find the spine to tell my parents the truth, to tell the world the truth, and eliminate the need for secrecy.
Blinking, I snap myself out of my reverie. From the other side of the table I catch the hint of Leo’s arched eyebrow and know he’ll likely quiz me later about what I was thinking about.
If I wasn’t a chicken, I could come out to my parents now and be done with it. Not have to hide who Leo and Jordan are to me.
Except…
I want this memory with them. I want this pleasant holiday family time without Stella fucking it up.
Ineedit, the normalcy. What little of that I get.
We’re leaving for the service early so my parents can see more of the chapel. There’s nothing like it in Nebraska, that’s for sure. TheSpace Window. TheRose Window. The different gargoyles.
Ex Nihilo.
I don’t have to be a religious man to appreciate the spirituality and beauty of the building. I don’t come here very often, usually only for special occasions.
And funerals.
Even with the hum of activity and people around, and the distant clicks from the pool’s cameras, I can let my mind settle for a few minutes and enjoy watching the wonder in my parents’ faces as they take in the space.
Yes, even my father seems impressed and I notethatwith more than a little satisfaction.
We take our seats at the front of the cathedral and as the service starts, I glance across the space to where Leo and Jordan stand together next to one of my agents, where I can easily see them without it being obvious.
I wonder what it’d be like to marry them in this space. To stand in front of the world while our vows echo through the void above us and ricochet off the stone walls.
To be officially recognized as a holy trinity of our own.
Blinking, I drag my mind back to the moment and focus on the service. I don’t want anyone to think I’m not paying attention, or that I’m about to fall asleep.
Paying attention isn’t the problem. I pay too much attention to everything, a side-effect of my anxiety.
Worrying about everyone and everything besides myself really is the crux of my weakness.
Instead, I should focus on selfishly making myself happy.
Shouldn’t I?
Maybe when I can finally come to grips with what happened the last time I tried doing that I can find some measure of peace for myself.
At the end of the ceremony we’re escorted out first and I pause just outside the church. It’s a beautiful, cold, clear night. Even with the light pollution I still see a brilliant blanket of sparkling stars spread across the velvety blackness of space above us.
Mom hooks her right arm through my left. “This was wonderful, sweetheart. Thank you so much for bringing us here. This was the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.”
I’m aware of Leo and Jordan both hovering just off my right shoulder and I pat Mom’s hand where it rests on my arm. “You’re welcome, Mom. I wanted us to have something special for tonight.”
On the other side of Mom, Dad nods. “That was beautiful. I liked the preacher. Good sermon.”
I don’t correct him about her title. Why bother? He enjoyed the service and that’s all that matters.
“The choir was nice, too,” he adds.
