“Why not?”
“Because it’s too embarrassing.”
Ryan forces my hands away from my face, rubbing my wrists with his thumbs as he keeps them locked against the mattress. “You must have a real warped view of yourself.”
I pull one of my hands free from Ryan’s grip and run my index finger along a scar beside his ear. I never noticed it before. It’s a bit Z-shaped and the skin around it seems pulled tight. “Where did you get this?”
“That,” he says, “I got when I was walking home from the bar a few years ago. Some guy was getting mugged, so I jumped in and helped fight the other guy off. He got away with a cell phone and some cash and I got this.”
“Really?”
“No,” he answers, cracking a smile. “I had basal skin cells removed last year. The scarring was supposed to be minimal but the dermatologist wound up leaving the mark of Zorro on my face. I guess he didn’t like me. And he really liked Zorro.”
“I don’t know why I take anything you say at face value.”
Ryan tilts off to the side, now holding the bulk of his weight on his right shoulder. “I can be serious sometimes. Back home I’m considered a fairly serious guy.”
“I doubt it,” I say with a grin, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead—because I can do that now.
“How about this for being serious—since we broke up, barely a week went by when I didn’t think back to the last time I saw you.”
My stomach sinks. I think about getting up again. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“I want to,” Ryan says. “I’ve waited a long time.”
I wish I could look away or leave the room, but I stay put and keep my eyes trained on his. “Okay. Go on, then.”
Ryan takes a breath. “One of my biggest regrets was how I treated you towards the end of our relationship. I knew I was hurting you. You tried to tell me what I could do to make things better, and I just moved further and further away. I would do anything if I could go back and be there with you when you lost your dad.”
I try to push my emotions into the background like I usually do when people talk to me about my dad. Smile and nod. Dissociate and move on. “You didn’t even know about my dad, plus we were kids back then. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, though. And I know I apologized to you for how I acted when you broke up with me, but I want to apologize again now, as a man.”
“It’s really not necessary. We’re different people now.”
“Maybe someday we can go visit him together. I’d like to talk to him—tell him I’m sorry for not being there with you when I should have.”
Unwanted tears well up in my eyes as I imagine visiting my dad’s grave with Ryan. I hold them in. They sting but they’re manageable. I try to talk but my throat is too tight.
As it is, I go to see my dad a few times a year and every Christmas morning. My mom doesn’t know about that last part, but I’m always pulled there then. Maybe it’s from thinking of how he always had his big video camera propped on his shoulder as Jen and I opened presents until we were teenagers. I don’t want him to feel abandoned at Christmas. I’ve always visited my dad alone but maybe I don’t have to anymore.
Part of me is afraid that bringing Ryan to see him is wrong. That my dad wouldn’t want it. That he’d be disappointed in me again. I’m not sure how to feel but Ryan is watching me, waiting for me to say something to his painfully thoughtful offer.
“I’d like that,” I eventually manage. I give in then and allow a couple of tears to fall even as I let out a small laugh. “I really thought we were done with all the emotional stuff for the night. Weren’t we just joking about me being naked?”
Ryan wipes a tear away from the corner of my eye. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I’ve just had a lot to say to you for a long time.”
“I know the feeling,” I say, still attempting to absorb it all. “It means a lot to me.”
Ryan kisses me, gentle and sweet. “Youmean a lot to me. You always have.”
My cheeks pull back in a grin as I roll onto my side. Ryan moves me back to fit snugly against him, tucking the top of my head under his chin.
“So,” I say into the peaceful quiet of the room, “is this the wrong time for me to tell you that I want to see other people?”
I hear Ryan’s quiet laugh against my ear. “Sorry, Sullivan, but that’s not possible. You’re mine now.”
I smile to myself, thinking I probably always was his. I’m still smiling a few minutes later as I drift off into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years.
