“Penelope and I went out the night I found out about the visa. I got very drunk, and I…cheated.” I can’t look Allegra in the eye. I’m not prepared for her to see me differently. It’s enough that Dare does; I don’t think I’d be able to take her judgment.
She hums but doesn’t speak right away. “Look at me, Harlan.” The firm command forces me to look into her blue eyes. The smile lines that surround them tell decades of stories that I’ve had the honor of hearing at this very table. She’s not looking at me with judgment, though. All I see is compassion, love, and a deep affection that I will miss more than she can ever possibly know. “No one in this life is perfect. Did you talk to your baseball player?”
“I told him as soon as he came home from LA. He ended things, obviously. I don’t blame him, but he can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” I feel the tears welling, so she passes me a napkin from the ceramic holder on the table.
“If you’re hurting from your actions, it stands to reason that he is too, my darling boy. I know your heart, and Darío knows your heart. Sometimes, good people make bad decisions. It’s part of being human. You’re young. You’re resilient, and you are so much more to people than just that decision.” Allegra rises to hug me, and I can no longer contain my sobs.
After tea, she walks me to the door. “I’m going to miss you so much, Allegra. I’ll call to check in on you. Thank you for everything.”
“Nonsense, I should be thanking you for taking such good care of me. Please be gentle on yourself. I had better hear from you. No one else appreciates the gossip from the center. When you find your way back to New York, you better make me your first stop.” Hugging me one last time, she cups my cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Harlan.”
Dinner feels a bit like a funeral reception. I have no desire to socialize, but Wes and Penny don’t give me a choice. Obviously Pen has known what I did. She insanely blamed herself for my shitty decision. When she apologized for leaving me to dance with someone else, I nearly lost it. No one is to blame for the choices I make, including the amount of alcohol I consumed that night. I had a breakdown the other day in the dressing room and told Wes everything. I think they’re afraid I’m going to hurt myself. Everyone else at the table just assumes I’m sad to be leaving Brooklyn, and since that’s partially true, I see no need to correct them.
“Are you ok, bb?” Wes sits next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders to pull me against him. He plants a kiss on my temple, and I snuggle into him. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping at all. You know you’re welcome to stay with me tonight if you’d rather.”
Wes lives with his boyfriend, Layton, not far from the Lust & Lace offices, so it would have been easy to take him up on his offer the other day. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house any sooner than I have to. Plus, I’d feel guilty for putting him out. He’s been dealing with his twin staying with him, too. God was in a good mood the day he created those two. Dark hair, hazel eyes, tattoos. And there are two of them. Unfortunately for the gays, Wes’s twin is straight.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m ok. I’m hoping Dare gives me a chance to say goodbye,” I mumble. I don’t know which will hurt worse—getting to say goodbye, or him avoiding me—but I don’t say that part out loud. Our conversation is blessedly cutshort as more people arrive. Everyone wants to buy me drinks, and I’m happy to partake.
No matter how many glasses of alcohol I drink, Dare is still consuming my thoughts throughout dinner. I thank everyone for coming, and do my best to keep my PR smile plastered on my face. If I’m not convincing, no one calls me out about it.
I returned home from dinner last night properly wasted and collapsed into bed fully dressed. Saying goodbye to my Lust & Lace family wasn’t as difficult as some of my other goodbyes, since we’ll still be collaborating. Penelope has already signed on for a project out of our London office, so she’ll be there in just a few months. I carried Darío’s words with me through the whole evening, and no amount of liquor eased the new level of sadness that has seeped into my bones after that. It feels as though my heart is bleeding out. I don’t know how to live without him.
The stale stench of alcohol surrounds me, as I remain curled up in bed. I feel as if I’ve swallowed cotton, and even without a mirror, I know my face is a disaster. If the drinking did anything for me last night, it helped me sleep without waking up and reaching for the empty side of a bed that was never intended to be mine. My phone starts buzzing incessantly from somewhere under the covers, so I fish it out to find my sister’s name on the screen.
“Urgh, ’‘lo?” My voice is scratchy and full of sleep.
“Were you sleeping?” Millie’s voice is far too loud, so I lower the volume, and switch the phone to speaker so I can hold the phone away from my ear.
“Yes, it’s barely eight, Millie,” I grouse. I rub sleep from my eyes, and my hand comes away with remnants of black eyeliner.Classy, Harlan.
“You’re going to have a shit time adjusting to the clock when you get here. I just wanted to check on you. Mum says you’ve been ignoring her calls.” I have been ignoring everyone’s calls for the most part.
“Yes, well, things have been a little busy, Amelia. I have been packing up several years of my life and living under the same roof as someone who can’t stand to be in the same room as me. I’ll send her a text when I’ve gotten more sleep.” Amelia always ends up in the middle of our parents and me, but the barrier has become necessary. While they are more than supportive of me being gay, they don’t love that I plaster my arse all over the world. They think I should have done something more ‘appropriate’ with my degree.
“You can’t just avoid them, Lan. They worry about you, you know?” Amelia is nothing if not diplomatic.
“They worry that I shame our family with my arse being advertised across the world. Gay is fine, but perhaps not that kind of gay.” My father avoids discussion of my career at all costs, unless it’s to tell me that it’s not ‘appropriate.’ He tried for years to get me interested in sports, and when he realized that I wanted to focus on fashion, he was ok, if not a little disappointed. It wasn’t until he found out I would be designing lingerie for men that he tried to tell me it was “inappropriate” for men to dress that way. When I wouldn’t budge, he mostly ignored it. Ignorance is bliss and all that. My mother doesn’t say too much, instead allowing my father to dictate the conversation at my expense.
I imagine they’ll be a lot more present and opinionated when they can hop in the car and come see me. I’m probably being a little unfair to them—they did pay my tuition without hesitation—but I can’t help but feel some level of judgment when I’m in their presence. On the few occasions Dare and I went home to visit, they were on their best behavior. My father actually loves Darío, which makes sense since he’s a professional athlete, so he’s doing a ‘real man’s’ job.Blech.
“That’s not true, and you know it. They don’t care what kind of ‘gay’ you are. I’m not going to argue with you. I was just calling to see how things were.” I don’t reply, just close my eyes, and wish for several more hours of sleep. “I’ll let you go. I love you, Lan.”
“Love you, too. See you soon.” After ending the call, I turn my phone off. I briefly consider washing my face before going back to sleep, but the amount of energy it would take to go down the hall feels impossible. I miss the ensuite in the bedroom I shared with Darío. I’ll have to find a flat with an ensuite. It’s the last thought I have before I pass out again.
When I wake later, the sun seems much lower in the sky. I blindly search for my phone and power it on. It’s after four in the afternoon, and I’ve no idea how I managed to sleep that long. I guess the broken sleep for over a week has finally caught up to me. I don’t feel any more rested now. I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be adjusting to London time, but that’s a problem for future Harlan. Current Harlan feels like his bladder is about to explode. On my way out of the room, I grab some lounge clothes so I can shower and change.
After possibly the very best shower of my life, I feel like a human again. Sliding on one of Darío’s hoodies, I realize that I’m going to miss borrowing his clothes. I always feel closer to him when I can smell him on me. A few of his things may have gotten packed in with mine. I have no shame. The man has countless T-shirts and hoodies; he probably won’t even realize these are gone.
The smell of sancocho permeates the air when I leave the bathroom, and I feel a twinge in my chest. Sancocho is my favorite Colombian meal, and something that Darío makes for me on occasion because he knows how much I love it. Add arepas and some sliced avocado, and it’s the perfect meal. Just another thing I’ll miss when I’m gone. It’s funny how food, music, and smells can take you to a moment in the past. It was the first meal he cooked for me when we started dating, and I still recall how nervous he was that I wasn’t going to like it. He was so kind and attentive that night. I knew then that I was going to fall in love with him.
Descending the stairs, I make my way to the kitchen, where Darío is flipping arepas on the stovetop. “I figured you’d appreciate this as your last meal in the States.” Funny, it was my first home-cooked meal with him, and now it’s about to be my last. Not funny in a haha way, obviously. It actually makes me want to sob into my soup.
“Thank you.” It’s so weird not to be able to wrap myself around him. Countless times over the years, I have found him at the stove. I’d wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder. He’d lean over to kiss my temple, never taking his eye off what he was doing. Such a simple act of domesticity and affection, but it always filled my heart with joy. Briefly, I wonder the last time I did that. I can’t recall, and that makes me irrationally sad. I had no idea then that it would be the last time. I would have enjoyed it more. Held on just a minute longer. Inhaled a little deeper. I hope I never forget how he smells.
“You slept late, are you feeling ok?” His back is to me, so I look my fill of him. The broad shoulders, his muscled frame. The slutty dimples in his lower back. His exceptional arse. Christ, he’s perfect.
“I haven’t been sleeping well, and I drank quite a bit last night. I feel ok, though. Sad, you know?” Darío and I have alwaysbeen able to talk about anything. The conversation flowed easily between us, so the confession slips off my tongue without thought.
