“I know,” Mr.Somerset says, but I don’t think he does.“I never—Emery says I’m blind because apparently this has been going on for months.I swear to God, Sam, I thought—I mean, Gray flirts with everyone.And you, well, you were flustered, the way a nice, quiet straight guy would be flustered.”
“Well, don’t feel too bad about it,” I say.“It’s not like I knew either.”
“You know he’s never going to let me live this down, right?”
“I don’t think Gray—”
“Not Gray.Emery.”
“I guess not,” I say.
It’s meant to be funny, but the humor drains out of the moment quickly, and then we’re sitting there, together, silent.
“I want to repeat,” Mr.Somerset says in a different tone, “that I know this isn’t any of my business.”When I don’t say anything, he goes on.“But what about you and Gray?”
“You heard him: it’s over.”
“Sam.”
“It’s fine.I knew what we agreed to when we started.That was the plan.”
Mr.Somerset is quiet for what feels like a long time.“I don’t have any right to give you advice, so I hope you’ll just—just consider this.But I think maybe you should talk to Gray.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Sam.”
“You heard him,” I say again.“It’s over.”
“Because he was scared.I put him on the defensive, and then I made things worse when I told him he was going to ruin your life.He—Gray’s been trying to make some big changes.You probably know that even better than I do.And that’s a good thing; I look at him, and he’s happier, and he’s healthier, and he’s making smart choices.But he’s also afraid he’s going to mess up, and I’m guessing you know all about that too.”
A car turns down the street, and the rumble of the engine grows louder as it passes us.Then it fades again.
“If I remember correctly,” Mr.Somerset says, “you said it was over too.”
I grunt.
“And that was after you put him on the spot,” Mr.Somerset says.
“I remember.”
“When he tried to take things down a notch, and you wouldn’t let him.”
“I said I remember, God damn it.”
But it’s annoyance more than anger, and Mr.Somerset must know that because he grins.
“All I’m saying—”
I can’t help it; I groan.
“All I’m saying,” he says again, and there’s a little laugh in it, but a little more force too, “is that I don’t think that conversation happened the way either of you wanted it to.And I think you know that too.”
He waits me out, and I say, “Maybe.But if he didn’t mean it, he still shouldn’t have said it.”
Of course, it’s not like I have a lot of room to talk.
Mr.Somerset only says, “You looked happy together.Both of you.Do you want to throw all that away because you had a fight?”
