My heart breaks in that moment because I love this man with all my heart. I just wish I was stronger. That I could stand against the scrutiny of my family, my friends, when I come out openly as being gay.When. I do plan to. It’s been the plan all along, but I don’t know how. Each time I think I’m ready, I look into the loving eyes of my mother. The judgemental ones of my father. My children. And I chicken out.
The only person who really knows the true me other than Jefferson is Paige. Her confronting me about it after our son graduated from high school over a year ago was a shock. Like me, she hid the secret and lived a double life of her own, hiding her affair with her now husband.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”I asked her in desperation that night.
“Because while I’m not in love with you, I do love you. I held on, waiting for the kids to be out of high school. To make sure they didn’t have to worry about us. Now it’s our time to live the lives we should’ve had.” She stepped up closer to me, placing her hands on my chest, smiling softly. “It’s time to stop hiding who you are, Malcolm. You’re an amazing father, a wonderful husband, and friend. Now it’s time for you to find the love of your life.”
Paige keeps encouraging me to tell the kids the truth. She and Jefferson are the only ones I can be fully myself with. And now he’s gone.
I get up slowly, picking up my discarded clothing from the floor. Clothes that had been ripped from my body in the throes of passion.
How did we end up here? Is this really how our love story is ending? On an ultimatum. Because that’s what it is. Come out publicly, or we’re done.
I dress quickly, then pick up my keys from the dresser, taking off his house key and placing it back down on the cherry wood top. My fingertips linger on the cold metal just a little longer than they should.
A tight aching knot rises in my throat and I swallow hard, hoping it’ll press itself back down, but it doesn’t. It just sits there, thick and suffocating. My eyes burn. It's the kind of burn that comes from the inside, the kind that means I’m seconds from breaking open.
But I won’t. Ican’t.
Not in front of him. It doesn’t matter that he’s not even in the room to witness. It will still be a knife in the gut.
I turn, my body moving before my mind catches up. He wants me to pack my things and leave while he showers. But I can’t. Staying another minute here will break me. Instead, I leave everything. My clothes folded neatly in the top drawer of hisdresser. The suit in his closet. My toiletries that are currently in the same room as him. Even my charger. None of it matters. Not right now. My only instinct is togo. To get out of his place before I break down.
But then I stop—right outside the bathroom door.
My hand lifts, fingers brushing against the wood door, my knuckles white with hesitation as I curl them into a fist, ready to knock. He’s in there. The water's running. He’s showering as if our relationship hadn’t just disintegrated. As if we were nothing. Like he didn’t just dismantle our whole lives with one sentence.
I stare at the door, willing it to open. Willing my hand to knock, to say something, anything. Just one more minute, one more chance to explain, to plead, to make him remember how great we are together. How much we love each other.
But I don’t. Instead, I let out a hopeless sigh and drop my hand. Because if I open that door. If I knock, I’m going to break. I’m going to cry. The only words out of my mouth would be me begging him to give us another chance. And I won’t do that. Not until I give him what he wants. What he needs. And that’s someone who can commit to him fully the way he wants.
I know that’s not me. Not yet. No matter how much I wish it was. I just hope I’m not too late.
So I pull my shoulders back, hold my head high, and I head for the front door. One foot in front of the other. Get to the front door and don’t look back. Those are the two things playing on repeat in my mind.
And still, even as I reach for the handle, every part of me is screaming to go back and ask him to choose me. To give me another chance. To take on my insecurities about my sexuality until I’m able and ready to face them head on.
But I don’t. I leave. Not whole. A part of me is still there with him.
I don’t even realize I’m in my car, driving, until I hear a horn blaring and look up. A green light in front of me at an intersection I’m not even familiar with.
Throwing up a finger to the asshole behind me, I press down on the gas. I need a drink. A redo of this day. Somehow to come up with the ability to hit rewind on the last hour.
A ring through the bluetooth pulls my attention, and for a second I get excited. A sliver of hope coursing through me that he’s regretting his decision and wants me to come back.
But when I see the name on the dash screen, my heart plummets into my stomach. A queasiness takes over.
Paige.
A huge part of me just wants to ignore her call. But an even bigger part of me wants to answer. She’s the only person I can talk to.
“Hello,” I answer as soon as I click the button. My voice trembles as I speak.
“Hey Malcolm, I just wanted to check if you were going to your parents’ anniversary party. They invited me.”
“It’s like three months away, and they’re already sending out invitations?” I shake my head in disbelief, but I shouldn’t be shocked. This is just like my mother.
“Guess she wants to make sure it’s over the top. I just want to make sure it’s okay with you. I’ll have Neill with me.”
