“Ahh, good point. I knew you were going to be smart like your daddy,” Justin praised him. “When you’re here, I suppose you should call me Mr. Fox.”
As if the whole encounter wasn’t quite tense and awkward enough, Dax chose that moment to step into the hall. He glared at Justin and I wondered what in the hell had caused that reaction. Justin was one of the most likable guys in town. I made a mental note to ask him about it later, if and when we got some time alone.
“Hey little man,” Dax greeted Jagger, who couldn’t rush into his arms fast enough. I wondered if that’d seem strange to anyone else, but figured it might be totally normal for a kid his age. After all, the kindergarten teachers had the job of helping the kids transition from being at home to being away from their parents the bulk of the day.
“Hi Dax!” Jagger said, then face-palmed himself as he muttered to himself. “Not Dax. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s Mr. Collins.”
“Hey now, none of that,” Dax chastised him. “You’re really smart, you just forgot. It’s okay.”
Justin gave me a curious look, but didn’t press. I thought for a moment that he might be upset I was so close to Dax now when we used to be good friends, but guys didn’t get that way. Right?
“I’ll do better,” Jagger promised to no one in particular.
The warning bell sounded and everyone started making their way into the rooms. Justin quickly excused himself with a feeble suggestion that we get together for a beer soon, and I didn’t reject him. He didn’t know that I didn’t drink much anymore. It was just another sign of how far we’d drifted.
“Hey, do I get a hug?” I asked, grabbing on to Jagger’s arm as he tried to run to his table. He grumbled, but humored me. He was growing too much, too fast.
“If you get a chance, give me a call during lunch,” I said to Dax. It was foolish to look over my shoulder to see if anyone overheard because the hall was still a cacophony of kids chatting as they hung up their backpacks.
“Yeah, no problem.” Dax seemed uncomfortable. He’d made this huge declaration last night, and now it felt as though he was waiting for me to shut him out. Little did he know that now that the door had been cracked open, I wanted nothing more than to see what was on the other side. “Try to get out and do something today. Jagger will be fine, so there’s no sense in sitting at home worrying about him.”
“Will do,” I told him, knowing full well that I wouldn’t. I was going to go into whatever was building between us the same way I did everything. Without a curious little boy to interrupt me, I wanted nothing more than to go home and do some research. Even if Dax turned out to be the most patient, understanding partner in the world, I didn’t want him to feel as if I was some uninformed virgin. And I really shouldn’t be thinking about that while still on school property.
He noticed my discomfort and laughed. The way he looked at me, I wondered if he could read my mind and knew what I was thinking about. No, he couldn’t. “Go home, Michael. I’ll call you when I get a break.”
When I turned to leave, I noticed Justin still watching the two of us as he ushered his own students into their room. He cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on between us. And it was ludicrous for me to even think that that’d be on his mind. As far as he knew, I was just a miserable widower who’d rather wallow in self-pity than allow my friends to be there for me.
“Hey, I meant what I said,” Justin offhandedly commented as I passed him. My brow furrowed in confusion, so he clarified. “If you want, give me a call sometime. It’d be good to catch up. I can’t believe how big Jagger is getting.”
“Yeah, sure,” I responded noncommittally. It was the best I could do, but at least it wasn’t the flat-out refusal I would have given him before today. Maybe Dax was good for me. Maybe he was right and I needed to start actually living again. Yes, there were bad memories, but there were far more good ones if I stopped to think about them.
My plans to sit at home and research everything I could find about gay sex and relationships fell apart when there was a knock on my front door not even two minutes after I got home from the school. I opened the door and saw Dad standing on the porch with two Tupperware containers of baked goods in hand. Apparently Mom was well enough that she was filling her time baking with no recipient in mind.
“Hey Dad,” I said, motioning for him to come in as I took the containers from him. The bottom one was still warm and I barely resisted the urge to drop everything to see what she’d made this morning. “Everything okay?”
“I was going to ask you the same question, son,” he responded bluntly. He followed me into the kitchen and I put on a fresh pot of coffee. “In twenty-seven years, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve called me before seven in the morning and I’d have four fingers and a thumb left over.”
“That can’t be right,” I argued, trying to think of a time I’d made an early morning phone call. None came to mind. Okay, so I wasn’t a morning person. “Okay, so maybe you’re right. But does that mean I can’t change my routine? If you remember, I’ve been a night owl since I started at the bar, and before that I was up late studying or working shifts on the ambulance. It’s not my fault the entire world doesn’t run on farm time.”
Dad chuckled. He’d moved into the city when he and Mom got married, but he always said his internal clock would forever be set on the schedule they’d kept when he was a young boy growing up on a farm outside of town.It drove him crazy that I didn’t share his love of the early morning.
“Fair enough, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did call today,” he said, trying to get the conversation back on the track I absolutely didn’t want to go down. “Now, cut the crap and tell me what’s going on. I know it wasn’t just to check on your mother. If that was the reason, you’d have stopped by the way you always have in the past. And since you’re not working tonight, you were probably just going to sit on your ass all day playing games on that damn computer.”
“Not true,” I protested and pointed at the out of control pile of laundry sitting in the back entryway.
“And once that’s done?” The corner of my mouth twisted as I tried to think of something to tell him. He simply shook his head, knowing I was about to feed him a line of crap. But I wasn’t, because I’d learned my lesson over the years. I pursed my lips and glared at him, wishing he didn’t know me so damn well. “That’s what I thought. So quit trying to get around it and tell me what’s got you so anxious to have someone watch Jagger tonight.”
“If you don’t want to, just say so,” I said defensively. Getting upset was way easier than telling him the truth.
“Never made that claim,” he pointed out, still cool and collected as always. I may have gotten my stubbornness from him, but my temper was all from Mom’s side of the family. Good German genes, she claimed. Dad was the one who never lost his cool, no matter what happened. “It’s just that this is out of character for you and I’m concerned. You were self-destructive for a while, and I don’t know that your mother can handle going through that again.”
I didn’t think I’d ever been that bad. Yes, I drank too much, but I never got into trouble. And I never did it when Jagger was around. Now that I thought about it, I realized that period of time was why I was so concerned about taking advantage of my parents now. Ihaddone it in the past.
“It’s nothing like that,” I promised him. “I want to go out and grab dinner with Dax to thank him for all his help.”
“Okay, now that sounds closer to the truth.” Closer, but not completely. Shit, Dad knew me entirely too well. He wasn’t buying what I was selling, but it became clear he wasn’t going to push. He knew the best way to get me to talk was to shut his mouth and let me simmer for a while. Eventually, the guilt would get to be too much for me and I’d sing like a damn canary. Only I couldn’t. Not yet. Not about this. Not until I knew what in the hell it was that I was doing.
I expected him to push back from the table and excuse himself. Even though he was retired, Dad always claimed to have something to do, especially when conversations threatened to go where he wasn’t comfortable taking them. And that’s exactly how he looked-uncomfortable. He rolled the coffee cup around in his hands and stared at the creamy brown liquid swirling in the mug. When he looked up again, I saw raw pain in his features.
