Allen brings the tea over to the counter, where he pours us each a cup. “I suppose so.”
“Thanks,” I grunt as I take the warm mug.
“Why are you interested in our breakup, anyway? That was thirty years ago.”
“Not sure,” I answer. “I don’t have much family. And I guess I’m just trying to figure something out about myself. Maybe trying to understand him, too.” I rub my hand over my scratchy face, my beard growing out. “He chose to be alone,” I say. “And I’m trying to better understand why.”
Allen nods sympathetically. “Well, that’s a different question. You see, in the case of our relationship, Randy might have fallen madly in love with me. And I fell in love with him, too. But the truth is we were never going to work out.”
“Because you’re not monogamous,” I say. “And he is.”
“That’s just the start! I wanted to live in the country, and he wanted to live in the city. Randy was allergic to cats, and I love my cats. I’m a vegetarian, he ate meat for every meal. Our cleaning styles clash, our life goals conflict, and in general, we’d have been a disaster as a relationship.”
I try to take that in. “Seriously? He didn’t say any of that in his journal.”
Allen laughs with a shrug. “We loved each other! And we wanted to make it work. But the polyamory did become the ultimate deal-breaker. Randy enjoyed being single, but if he was going to even consider a relationship, no way in hell he would share.”
Another way my grandpa reminds me of myself, I realize.
I take a sip of the tea, sweet and light. “How’d it work out for you?” I ask.
“For me?” He gestures to the back of the house, talking delicately. “I’m happy. My husbands are busy in the gardens, and we made the home I wanted.” He studies me and then shakes his head. “But Randy was one of the most important people in my life. That doesn’t mean I forgot him.”
I nod.
I’m glad to know that Allen is happy, even though it stirs something in me, something complicated and knotted up.
He moved on and found the life he wanted. It’s my job to let Nicholas do the same. We’re opposites in so many ways, just like Randy and Allen were.
Allen drums his fingers on the table. “How about you?” he asks. “Anyone special in your life, Clay?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “There’s a guy in Buffalo. But I’m leaving town. I guess it’s like your situation with my grandpa.”
“You don’t want the same things. That’s tough.”
I consider it. What I want is a good job, work I can be proud of, a home of my own.
All things that Nicholas wants, too.
“It’s not that we want different things, exactly,” I say. “But I’ve been hurt and kicked aside enough in my life. I’m like Randy was, I guess.”
Allen frowns. “And how, exactly, was Randy?”
“He wasn’t meant for something like you have,” I try. “He needed to be alone, and you needed to have your life.”
Allen shakes his head. “You keep saying that Randy was a loner, but I don’t see it that way. And he was no martyr, either, suffering alone so I could be happy. We can all be happy, and he chose his single life just like I chose this one. He chose a life filled with friends and casual sex and a busy gayborhood around him. Meanwhile, you’re so hung up on whether you’re good enough for your guy, you’re forgetting to ask yourself a very important question.”
“What question is that?”
“Whether you want what he has to offer.”
Immediately, I answer. “He’s right for me. Couldn’t be anyone more right for me than Nicholas.”
“Then stop making decisions on his behalf,” Allen says. “Even Randy worked up the gumption to tell me how he feels. And I’ll tell you, there’s no way you’re more reluctant to share your feelings than that old grump was.”
Something unlocks in my brain.
My ribs expand, and my perspective shifts.
