“My lover or my ex?”
He blinks. “Neither. Both? This is some Lorena Bobbitt shit. I’m fully expecting to have my cock cut off and thrown from a window when one of them takes me being here the wrong way.”
“Nothing like that's going to happen.” I pull my lower lip into my mouth as I pick up my fork, gripping it tightly as I lean back in my chair.
“Then what is it? I'm confused.” His shoulders stay tense as he asks, almost as if he feels there's a danger still lurking around the corner.
“My family, let's just say they are very conventional in their views. In their eyes, it's one way. A man is made for a woman. To be her provider, her nurturer, and to procreate.”
“You gotta be kidding me?” He laughs.
“I wish I were. Early on, I knew I was attracted to men, yet I never acted on it in fear of what my parents would think. I tried to talk to my father once about it. He got so angry. Not because I was attracted to men—he didn’t know that—but because he was afraid of me being brainwashed by someone. Another time I wasat dinner with them, and there was a lesbian couple seated at the table across from us. My father requested to be moved, and when the restaurant declined, he made us leave, boycotting the establishment. He bad mouthed it to everyone, until it finally went out of business.” I pick up my beer and take a sip, calming my rising emotions remembering the past.
“But you like women too?” he asks as he spears a piece of his salad before lifting the fork to his mouth.
“Yes, and no.” I inhale, taking a moment to look at him, noticing his full attention is on me. Either he's really good at his job and making his clients feel important or he is invested in what I have to say.
“Malcolm, it's not that hard of a question.”
I furrow my brow as I focus my attention on the flickering flame of the candle.
“I was attracted to Paige when I first met her. She was beautiful, sweet, and genuinely kind. She accepted me for who I was. But it was always more of a friendly love. A best friend. I tried to make it work. For her, my family, and when the kids came along, them.”
Bradley reaches out and takes my hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“She knew all along before I ever told her. Our divorce was amicable and I'm happy for her. Paige finally has the love she deserves.”
“So the big question is why are you not with your lover? That’s what I'm not understanding. Wouldn't you want your man here instead of me?”
“Of course. But I'm still in the closet and he was tired of waiting for me to come out. He wanted a real relationship. One where we go to family events, go on actual dates and vacations. And I want all of that too. It’s just so fucking hard. All I can think about is my kids hating me. Cutting me from their lives. All thelife events I’ll miss. If they’ll even let me see my grandchildren. It’s not just an easy choice for me to scream to the world that I’m gay.”
He looks at me as if he's sizing me up as he tries to make sense of my story.
“Just so I'm clear, no one in your life other than Paige and your ex knows you’re gay.”
“Well, you know now. But to answer your question, no.” I move the lettuce on my plate around with my fork.
“Fuck, that's some shit. Why am I here?”
That's the million dollar question. Hopefully he can fulfill what I need.
“Let’s eat before it gets cold and then I'll tell you everything.”
Chapter 11
Bradley
Themancanfuckingcook. Honestly, if I had the money, I’d pay to date him just for a home-cooked meal. We spend some time breaking the ice. I tell him about my Nana passing and that being the reason why I left school. He tells me about his recent breakup and his family. It is a bit nerve-wracking to know that he’s got children who are close to my age.
“That was delicious,” I tell him as we both push away our plates. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in ages. It had to have been before my Nana got sick.” I fight back the tears that threaten to fall, remembering I’ll never taste her cooking again.
“Thank you.” He takes a moment, looking at the food still sitting on the table. “Would you like to take some home with you? It’ll go to waste otherwise.”
“I’d gladly take it.” I smile. “Want me to help you put it away?”
“It will only take me a few minutes. You can have a seat in the living room if you like.” He pauses. “Unless you really want to help me?”
Pushing back my chair from the table, I stand, picking up my plate, then his. “I do.” Not even waiting, I start heading tothe kitchen, straight to the sink. Turning on the water, I begin rinsing the dishes. I hear his feet on the tile floor as he steps up beside me. “Do you want these in the dishwasher?”
