It reminds me what’s at risk. If I tell him what I want and it doesn’t go well, I really could lose him. That’s always been my fear, that saying the words would create some irreparable damage to our friendship. I could lose Rafael, and that’s the scariest thought in the world.
I scoop up a can and toss it in my bag. While I’m bent down, I pull off my work glove and run my fingers through the cool water.
I wish that I could talk to Milo. Or Matty or Horatio. Any of our friends. But telling them before I’ve told Rafael just feels wrong.
When I’m returning to my bike, I check my phone and see there’s a message from Davis.
Morning, Alexander. I just wanted to follow up. It was good to see you on campus, but I was actually really bothered when you didn’t show up at the con without even calling. Not trying to make you feel bad, but if you’re going to make plans with me, please don’t bail again, okay?
My stomach sinks. I’m horrified. I feel like an asshole. I had no idea. It’s suddenly obvious that I should have been more apologetic when I missed him at the con. I should have made an effort to meet up, but even when I saw him, I was still avoidant.
I quickly open a text back, my gut tight.I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I totally understand why you would feel that way, though. I’m not trying to bail.
I have a tendency to over-apologize. Whenever Rafael catches me doing it, he grabs my hand to stop me. He’s not here to do that now, but somehow, the memory of it comes back, and I catch myself from typing more.
Shit. I feel awful, though.
The reply from Davis comes quick.Thanks, Alexander. And that’s okay. I’m glad you’re still interested.
My mouth falls slightly open. I didn’t say I was interested, actually, but I’m fumbling for a response, and Davis gets another text in first.
Want to get a drink on Thursday?
“A drink,” I whisper to myself.
That could work. I can tell him that it’s over in person. That’s probably the right thing to do, anyway. Texts are way too informal.
I send a quick text to confirm, then sit on the grass. I’m spun around from the texts, hit by waves of guilt and confusion.
Am I letting myself get so wrapped up in a fantasy with Rafael that I’m losing touch with reality?
I don’t feel like I can talk to any of my friends, but I remember someone I can call, and I know they’ll both be up early. I pull my phone back out and open a video call to my dads.
“Alexander!” Abba says, delighted as he answers. “Happy morning to you.”
I sigh with a smile. Abba is sitting at the kitchen table, one hand stroking his big white beard and the other holding a mug of coffee. Behind him, I see Pop at the counter, repotting a plant and getting dirt all over the kitchen. “Happy morning,” I say.
My dads are pretty great. Pop runs a nature center, and Abba makes ceramics. They live only a couple hours outside of Chicago, so I still get to see them fairly often, although I haven’t made it out to visit yet this summer.
Neither of my dads are close to their biological family, but they have a large chosen family, so I grew up with a million gay aunts and uncles. I’m really lucky because on top of having a supportive environment to find myself in, I also received a great model to look to when I chose my own friends.
Although the dirt in the kitchen is killing me.
“Didn’t you say it was nice that one time?” I say loudly, for Pop to hear. “When you potted the plants on the porch instead?”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Abba says with a wave of his hand. “I already hid anything that shouldn’t get dirty.”
My smile widens. It’s reassuring to me that they’re still fussing around that house together, happy as ever.
“What’s new in Chicago?”
“I’m actually calling for some advice.”
Immediately, Pop is sitting at the table with Abba, fully alert. “What is it, Alexander?”
I lick my lips. “Well, I’m not sure where to start, but I’m kind of in love with Rafael?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Pop says, nodding. “You are.”
