As I settled into the stands, the phone in my pocket buzzed again. I justified checking the messages because Ryan wasn’t even dressed yet, much less on the ice. The parents around me all had their noses buried in their devices with the exception of those with their faces pressed to the glass as their kids tried out for fall team placement.
6:14: I did what you asked.
6:21: I have questions. Lots of questions. You’re probably going to think I’m stupid because I have so many questions.
6:23: Why aren’t you responding?
I chuckled when the little bubble appeared at the bottom of the screen, indicating he was typing again. My impatient little brat.No. Notyourbrat.I needed to remember that Frankie wasn’t my anything, other than a roommate to split the bills so I could afford to put new skates on the kid’s feet and pay to travel up and down the coast for the foreseeable future. I waited a few minutes and checked to see if I’d missed another message coming through, but there wasn’t one. The current group of skaters cleared the rink, so while they cut the ice, I took mercy on Frankie and sent him a simple response.
Focus on work. We’ll talk Saturday morning.
It felt imperative that we at least start to work through Frankie’s curiosity before he had a chance to repeat last week’s activities. I’d only seen him at Club 83 once, but I was interested enough in him that I didn’t know how I’d react if he showed up again this week with the same goal in mind. As expected, Frankie’s response was almost immediate.
Frankie:Work is mind-numbing and I can’t concentrate.
Me:I have faith in you.
Frankie:Why can’t we talk now? Text is fine, but I can’t wait until the end of the week.
Frankie:This is all your fault, you know.
Me:Trying to make me feel guilty won’t work, brat. Saturday.
Frankie:Fine.
I could practically see Frankie rolling his eyes. I was confident I hadn’t heard the last of him, but Ryan’s group was lining up at the door, so I pocketed my phone. Ryan wobbled a bit as he took the ice and I closed my eyes, willing him to remember what I’d told him. All his coaches agreed he was a wickedly talented player and that his greatest weakness was his mindset. He tended to take on the pressure of every game’s outcome, forgetting that it wasn’t up to him to win or lose on his own.
That, like so many other random thoughts over the past few days, made me think about Frankie. He was a loyal man, so dedicated to his family that I wondered if they realized how miserable he was in the position they’d shoved him into. When we’d first met, I’d seen the exhaustion and weight he carried as he talked about running his family’s restaurant. He’d confirmed my suspicion that it wasn’t the career he’d envisioned for himself with a long, suffering sigh as he recounted the day his father informed him it was time for him to step into a leadership role with the business.
That type of pressure would be a lot for anyone his age to take on, but when it wasn’t what he wanted to do, the stress would eventually take its toll. It made sense, in a twisted way, that he put himself into compromising positions during his down time. From what he’d told me, his family was old-fashioned, meaning chances were high he worried about whether they’d accept his sexuality. Being forced to run the family business made him grasp for something he could do to please no one but himself. And the exchange of money allowed Frankie to put someone else in charge of making the decisions.
Crystal. Clarity.
As Ryan’s group warmed up on the ice, I began to formulate a plan for how to handle the situation with Frankie. He might be resistant to admitting any form of BDSM appealed to him, but my certainty grew. I could offer him exactly what he needed. And I intended to prove it to him before we even sat down to talk Saturday morning. There was time for one final text before Ryan’s tryout began.
Me: Make sure you get out at a decent time tonight. You haven’t been sleeping enough.
My phone buzzed while Ryan’s group ran through some skating drills but I ignored it. If there was any chance Frankie would go along with my plan, he needed to understand from the very beginning there were times he couldn’t be my number one priority. In an ideal world, anyone I entered into a relationship withwouldbecome my priority, but that life had vanished the moment Ryan was born. I would never stop putting him in that number one place, even above my own needs and desires.
After the tryouts wrapped up, I escorted a rank, supposedly starving, teenager to the car. I was always proud of Ryan’s accomplishments, but I couldn’t remember a time I’d been prouder of him than tonight. Although it was entirely possible I was biased, my son was the best skater out of his group, and as I drove to his favorite restaurant for dinner before taking him home, my hopes were high that he’d be assigned to the Majors team.
I was also impressed by Frankie’s restraint. Other than a snarky response to my final text that I’d purposely ignored, my phone had remained silent the rest of the evening. Now, it was a waiting game to see if he’d stroll into the apartment before one in the morning.
* * *
Wednesday morning,I laid in bed while Frankie went through his morning routine. As much as I wanted to meet him in the kitchen and tell him I was proud of him for being home and in his room before midnight, I feared that might confuse him. Praise was something he’d need to get used to, but until we’d hashed out what each of us wanted and whether our needs aligned, he could easily misconstrue my gesture as trying to fill in for his dead father. That wasn’t my intention at all.
I waited a few minutes after I heard the snick of the dead bolt before rolling out of bed. If he forgot something and came back into the house, it was a sure bet that he’d try to pressure me into talking right then rather than waiting until Saturday. I wasn’t stupid, I was trying to give Frankie a taste of what life would be like if we did pursue any sort of relationship. I would never purposely ignore him, but he wasn’t going to bully me into doing things on his timeline. There was a fresh pot of coffee finishing the brew cycle in the kitchen and a cherry turnover from the bakery down the street sitting on the counter. It was such a small gesture, but gave me hope that both of us were dancing around what we wanted in the interim.
Me: Thank you for thinking of me.
Frankie: They’re day olds I picked up yesterday. Nothing special.
It seemed the brat had a hard time accepting gratitude. That needed to change.
Me: Don’t sell yourself short. It was nice to come out to coffee and breakfast waiting for me. If you’re not careful, you’re going to spoil me.
The coffee finished brewing and I filled the mug Frankie had set aside for me. It was these little gestures that would’ve worn me down if I’d been reluctant to be with him. This morning’s newspaper was laid out in my favorite chair. I stared at it and smiled, shocked that Frankie knew my morning routine so well. I was also certain the still tender pastry wasn’t a day old special like he claimed, but I’d allow the lie to slide for now. Frankie was wading into foreign territory that could be daunting even for someone who’d already admitted his desires. But it was interesting that this was the path his desires led down. Promising. My phone buzzed as I separated the sections of the paper and I grinned as I pulled up the message.
