“Jesus, no wonder they don’t want a bar of me.”
“They do,” Klaus said. “Besides, now you’re getting it. It’s not enough to love Sal. You’ve gotta support them and try to make the world a better place for them.”
Curtis’s heart stopped in his chest. “Love?”
“You dropped the word first, mate.‘Saying I don’t care Sal’s non-binary isn’t the same thing as saying I love that about you.’”
“Fuck!” Curtis pushed his palms in further. “I can’t believe I told Sal’s ex that. I didn’t wanna tell anyone that. Especially since everything’s in the shit.”
Klaus laughed. “It’s all good. Sal’ll get there. If they’re not there already.”
“Dunno if I agree, mate…”
“You should. Sal’s patient as fuck, and they’re obviously into you. Anyway, I think I know what you can do to get back in their good books. If you wanna hear it?”
“Christ, yes! Lay it on me.”
Klaus checked his watch. “I just had a cancellation, so I’m done for the day. You wanna go get a beer?”
It wasn’t where Curtis had thought the afternoon was going, but as he headed outside with Klaus, the five-foot-five doofhead whisperer, he was pretty happy it had.
4
Sal traced their baby nephew’s cheek with their finger. He was so beautiful, sleeping in his bassinette. Pure potential and personality swirling behind his sleeping eyes, barely aware of what the world was.
“Hey, Charlie, wanna trade places?” Sal whispered.
He kicked a tiny foot as though in protest, and Sal smiled. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Charlie kicked again, and Sal felt dangerously close to tears. To be fair, they felt that way most of the time now. It had been three days since they’d spoken to Curtis, and crying was an hourly occurrence. The kids at work were starting to get worried. Ammy was threatening to forcibly dehydrate Sal. That was probably why they’d decided to spend all of Saturday at Byron’s house, ostensibly to keep Beth and the new baby company, but also so they could have a mental health crisis in peace.
“Almost done in here,” Beth called from the kitchen. “How’s my little skin dog?”
Sal snorted. Beth had co-opted the meme about calling children ‘skin dogs’ because people called their dogs ‘fur babies’.It was one of the many things that made their sister-in-law easy to like. “He’s good. Sleeping like a baby.”
“Checks out.” Beth came into the living room, carrying two steaming mugs. “Almond latte for you. Decaf for Skin Mumma.”
“Thanks,” Sal said, accepting the coffee. They sipped in silence, both watching Charlie. Sal had met him a few times, but today felt different. When Sal had first shown up to Beth and Byron’s place, Charlie had reached out and curled a tiny fist around their finger, staring into Sal’s face like he was trying to remember where they’d met before.
“Ooh, he’s a big fan,” Beth had said happily, but Sal couldn’t agree. They’d felt so inadequate in the unblinking gaze of Byron’s baby that it had been hard to maintain eye contact. They’d hugged Beth to break the moment, gushing about how much he’d grown in his six weeks of external existence.
“Sal?” Beth asked. “Do you mind if I put the football on? I won’t if you don’t want me to, but Byron’s in the coach’s box this game and?—”
Sal’s heart jackhammered against their rib cage. Curtis had sent a bunch of tiger lilies to their house today with a note.
I want this, Sal. Please watch my game today xxxx
Sal had vowed to Ammy that they weren’t going to comply with the flower note. But if that was true, why had they come to Beth’s place? There was a one hundred percent chance she’d want to put the game on. So maybe what they really wanted was to not watch it alone or with Ammy, who couldn’t stop laughing about Curtis being in ‘full panty-sniffer mode.’
“It’s fine,” Sal said through dry lips. “I don’t think Curtis can talk to me through the TV.”
Beth turned on the flat screen and muted it. “It’ll just be ads for a while. Do you want to change the channel for a bit?”
What Sal wanted was to go back in time and skip the Pyramid performance, but they’d successfully been avoiding discussing Curtis with Beth, and they were in no mood to start now. They shook their head. “It’s fine.”
As they sat watching commercials for car insurance and foot cream, the pressure behind Sal’s eyes began to build. Curtis wasn’t even in the same city, and the thought of seeing him on a screen in Perth felt as scary as if he was about to walk through the door. They felt like such an asshole, being all sooky about a guy they’d barely dated when they had a new nephew and a friend to take care of. Beth had had post-natal depression after her first son, Simon, and Sal had wanted to check in on her as much as the new baby.
So do it, dickhead.
