“Oh, it’s silly and doesn’t matter anymore. I clearly got it wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
She lets out one of herthis is a pointless conversationsighs but answers my question.
“I just thought that you and he might have feelings for each other, you know? You two were inseparable. All you talked about was Ben this, Ben that. But then that god-awful accident happened and everything changed.”
My breath catches. “Mom, say that again.”
“Which part?”
“That last part. You thought I was gay?”
She sighs again. “I didn’t know. You always kept everything so close to your chest unless you were talking about sports. When Ben came along, I wondered if maybe you were into boys. When Ben died, you closed off again and didn’t speak about another person until Mel. I saw you were truly in love and she was the one for you, so that was that.”
I’m not sure how to digest what my mom has said, so all I muster is, “Thank you, Mom.”
“Well, I don’t know what that was about. I hope you’re feeling okay and not drudging up old memories and feeling sad. Especially this time of year.”
I groan. “Mom.”
“Yes, yes, you’re forty-six. I’m just saying. I still worry about my only son. Anyway, we must go. Stay safe out there, honey.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.”
The call with my mom leaves me paralyzed to my core. For the second time in a year, I feel like my whole life has been a lie. But this time, it’s all my fault.
Did I repress my childhood memories? Was it because I was grieving for the friend I lost? Or was it because I felt more for him and didn’t know it at the time?
Even though Ben has been hiding in the recesses of my memories all this time, now it’s as if he was never gone. His floppy dark hair that wouldn’t hold a style, no matter how much he tried. The happy brown eyes that always made me feel like life was an inside joke between the two of us.
Has Bubble reawakened something that’s been lying dormant inside me? Did I repress my feelings for Ben to help me through the traumatic way he was taken from us?
“Fuck,” I say aloud.
And what does this mean? Could I be gay? No. I loved Mel, and when we were together, I always desired her in every way. Am I bisexual? Pansexual?
I’ve never felt arousal in the presence of another man, and I’ve lived my life in locker rooms full of athletes that are desirable by anyone’s standards.
But I get hard when Bubble is around. Just the smell of his strawberry shampoo, shower soap, or whatever it is, drives me insane. I got hard watching him dance yesterday. His sunny disposition never fails to make me smile, no matter how much I try to deny it.
And I fucking got hard earlier when I had nothing but a towel on. I was dangerously close to showing Bubble the effect his presence has on me.
I let out a long sigh.
It’s not his fault that I’m so messed up.
All he’s done is try to look after me, even when I didn’t ask.
I owe him an apology.
It may be snowing outside, but I don’t care. I grab my boots and coat and the keys to the shed where I keep my woodworking tools.
I can’t cook a meal to make up for being a dickhead, but I can do something else.
Thirty minutes later—with both my nuts about to shatter into tiny frozen pieces—I’ve collected everything I need, and I head back to the cabin.
The snow is coming down heavier, so maybe my parents are right and we’re on the path of a storm.
