To Live Again (19 page)

He nodded.

“Were you ever…” My throat tightened around the words, but I forced them out. “Did you ever think about hurting yourself?”

Mark avoided my eyes for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Sometimes. I never did. But…the thoughts were there.” He stopped, but I had a feeling he wasn’t finished, so I didn’t say anything. After a while, he went on, “I was mad when you guys sent me to Dr. Sandler. I thought you thought I was crazy or something. But she made me realize there really was something wrong, and that it wasn’t my fault, it was just something I needed help to work through.” He paused, swallowing. “You and Mom gave enough of a shit to send me to her. So yeah, you helped.”

“Of course we gave a shit,” I said. “You’re our son. We love you.”

“I know.” He smiled faintly. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I promise.”

“I can see that now.” I watched him for a moment, and then cautiously asked, “And Dr. Sandler knows, right?”

“That I’m gay?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded again. “I didn’t tell her for a long time because I thought she’d tell you and Mom, but when I realized she’d only tell if she thought I was going to hurt myself or someone else, then yeah. I told her.”

“Good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you were able to tell someone.” I couldn’t even be upset with April for outing me to Mark. Though I’d asked her to give me time, since I wasn’t ready to talk to my sons about this, she’d gone ahead and told him. If she’d known about him—that he was gay, that his sexuality was the reason for so many of these walls between us—then she must’ve known what she was doing.

“Does Mom know?” I asked.

“No.” Mark shook his head. “How do you think she’d react?”

“I can’t imagine she’d react any differently than I did. If anything, she’s been as worried as I have about you.”

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just wish we’d made it clearer that you had no reason to hide this from us.”

“Does she know about you?”

“No. I never told her, and I don’t think she knows I’m seeing anyone.”

“Think you’ll ever tell her?”

I pursed my lips, then shrugged. “Haven’t really gotten that far, to be honest. Maybe someday.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer and didn’t push the issue. Right then, our food came, and as we ate, we continued into lighter subjects. The whole time, though, my mind kept going back to everything we’d admitted since we’d sat down. It killed me to know just what he’d been suffering through all these years, but in a way, it was a huge relief to hear it. To be having a conversation like this at all, listening to my son open up to me about things that were difficult to hear, was a big improvement from trying to chip away at the stubborn silence.

After the waitress had taken our plates, Mark laid his napkin beside his drink. “So, um.” He drummed his fingers rapidly on the table. “Maybe we could meet up for dinner or something. With both of our guys. I’d kind of like you to meet Devon.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” I paused. “I mean, let me see how Sailo feels about it.”

“Sailo?” A faint grin played at his lips. “That’s his name?”

I nodded. “He’s Samoan.”

“Cool. What does he do?”

“He’s a deejay.”

“A deejay?” Mark laughed. “That doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Oh yeah?” I raised my eyebrows. “What kind of ‘type’ do you think I have?”

“I don’t know. Before April said something, I didn’t think you’d be into guys, so I guess…I don’t know. But…a deejay? Really?”

I shrugged. “You just never know who you’ll stumble into, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“What about yours? What does he do?”

Mark smiled shyly. “He’s a musician.”

“What kind? He in a band or something?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “First chair violin at the university.”

“Oh.
That
kind of musician.”

“Yeah. That kind. He’s going to school on a full ride.” Mark beamed with pride. “He’s really talented.”

“Wow. He must be. So, that’s what he’s going to do professionally?”

Mark nodded. “I mean, he’s doing a double major, and he’s planning to get an MBA so at least he has a fallback.”

“An MBA is a pretty ambitious fallback plan.”

“Right? But he figures if he’s got that, he’ll be in good shape if he can’t land a symphony gig that pays well enough.”

“Smart man.”

Mark grinned. “He is.”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“About a year.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“I know.” Mark’s good spirits dimmed a little. “I wanted to tell you and Mom about him, but…”

“No, I understand. I’m just glad you’re telling me now.” I smiled. “He obviously makes you happy.”

Once again, his face lit up with a shy but heartfelt smile, and he nodded. “He does.”

“Good. I’m, um, assuming this is pretty serious, then?”

“Yeah. We’ve talked about getting a place together. Probably this summer.”

I smiled. “Well, if you need help moving, give me a call.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“So how did the two of you meet, anyway?”

“Well, we were taking a history class together…”

As he told me the story of how a study group turned into missing class because they were too busy talking over coffee, I couldn’t help getting an odd little thrill out of casually chatting with Mark about our respective boyfriends. Just having a candid conversation like this, talking happily about boyfriends as if neither of us had ever had a reason to hide who we were from each other, was such an enormous relief, I was almost giddy from it.

I studied him for a moment. “How long has your sister known? About you?”

“A few years. Kurt knows too.”

“Oh. Good. Good, I’m glad you were able to be open to them.” I just wish you could’ve been open with me. “Have they met your boyfriend?”

“April has.” He laughed. “She keeps joking that Nathan is going to leave her for Devon—get the two of them together, they never shut up about music.”

“We might have to pry him and Sailo apart, then. He’s pretty passionate about his music too.”

“Cool. Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Likewise.”

I paid for lunch, and we left the table. Outside, we paused. This was where we’d normally have a tense, muttered good-bye, but the air between us had shifted dramatically since I’d sat down at the booth. I wasn’t sure what to expect now.

“Well, I should go,” he said finally. “Thanks for lunch.” And then, for the first time in years, my son hugged me.

I held him tight, willing myself not to break down despite the tremendous relief. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I’d be disappointed in you.” I forced my voice to remain even. “I mean it—all I’ve ever wanted is for you kids to be happy.”

“I know,” he whispered. Drawing back, he said, “Let me know about dinner?”

“Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

We exchanged smiles, and then he headed toward his car. Halfway to it, he paused, looked back, and waved.

I returned it and started toward my office, my head spinning as I thought about everything we’d discussed. Of all the scenarios I’d played out in my head before we’d sat down, this was the furthest from what I’d expected. I’d never guessed he was gay. And I’d sure as hell never guessed he had any reason to believe I’d be disappointed in him if he was.

All the way back to my office, I was grinning like an idiot. We hadn’t talked that much in ages, and it felt good not to be so far away from him anymore. It would take time to knock down the rest of the walls, but it was a damned good start. Even knowing how serious his depression was felt like a positive step—maybe now that I knew, I could help somehow. At least be there for him. And for God’s sake, he was talking to me about it. Opening up. Not ashamed of his depression or his sexuality, despite what the demons in his head told him.

It was a start. I’d take it.

At my desk, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and was about to put it beside my computer where I always left it when I was working.

But then I paused. And pulled it back.

I pulled up April’s number. After a long moment of hesitation, I wrote out a text:

Thank you for telling Mark. Love you.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The night of our double date, I picked up Sailo, drove us to the U-district. A few blocks away from the restaurant where we’d meet Mark, I parked, paid for a few hours just in case we decided to stay late, and we strolled up the road to the agreed-upon place.

As the restaurant came into view, its bright blue sign standing out from the overcast sky, I slowed, then stopped.

Sailo turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” I glanced at the restaurant, then faced him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Sure.” Sailo started to reach for me, but then looked around and withdrew his hand. “We both know what it’s like, trying to come out. If this makes it easier for your son to come out? Hell yeah, I’m in.”

“I appreciate it. But I don’t want to ask too much of
you
. We just started seeing each other a little while ago, and—”

“Relax. If you’d tossed this at me the night we met? Yeah, that might’ve been a bit much. But we’ve been out a few times. We’re getting to know each other. Meeting each other’s kids… I’m okay with that.” He chewed his lip. “Maybe not my kid yet. He’s a bit young to understand how all this works.”

“He knows you date men, though, right?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Sailo shifted his weight. “But I prefer to wait until I’ve been with someone for a while. So he doesn’t get, you know, attached.”

In case things go to shit,
I thought with a pang of dread in my gut.

“That makes sense,” I said quietly. “My kids are old enough to understand. Plus they’ve already been through the divorce, so…” I waved a hand. “Anyway. I really do appreciate you coming tonight. As long as you really are comfortable with it.”

Sailo smiled. “Completely.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Well. Let’s do this.”

“Let’s do it.”

We exchanged one more long look and then continued up the sidewalk.

The restaurant—apparently one of Mark’s favorites—was as bright on the inside as it was on the outside. Nearly everything was some shade of blue, aside from the multicolored tablecloths and the matching aprons worn by the staff. The second I walked in, I was greeted by a warm gust of about half a dozen different spices. A little bit of garlic, a little bit of rosemary, and several others, all combining for a pleasant, aromatic air. I couldn’t remember if I’d been hungry before we arrived, or if I’d been too nervous for that, but I sure as hell was now.

As my eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer lighting, I saw Mark waving from a few tables away. Sailo and I made our way over, and I introduced them.

“Sailo, this is my son, Mark. Mark, Sailo.”

They shook hands over the table, and Sailo and I took our seats.

“Devon should be here soon.” Mark checked the time on his phone. “He had class this afternoon, and that prof always runs late.”

“No problem,” I said. “I don’t think we’re in any hurry.”

“Definitely not.” Sailo picked up one of the blue leather menus. “But we may need to order whatever I’m smelling as an appetizer or something, because goddamn.”

Mark laughed. “I’ve had almost everything on the menu. It all tastes as good as it smells.”

“Yeah?” Sailo glanced at him. “Anything you recommend?”

“Well…” Mark gestured at the menu. Sailo laid it down and turned it so they could both read it, and they hunched over it, analyzing and discussing every appetizer.

For my part, I just watched them in disbelief. My boyfriend and my son? Chatting easily over menu items? Somehow, I’d convinced myself they’d be standoffish and awkward at first, but so far, so good.

I was absolutely grateful for Sailo’s presence, though admittedly, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about tonight’s arrangement. This was something I’d never imagined in a million years—having dinner with my son and both our boyfriends.

But…so far, so good.

While we perused the menu and discussed the various items Mark had and hadn’t tried, his eyes kept flicking toward the door. Whenever it opened, he sat up a little. Then a second later, he’d relax.

Shortly after we’d ordered our drinks and a plate of bacon-wrapped dates, he glanced at the door, but this time, his face lit up with the brightest smile I’d seen on him in years. “There he is.”

I turned, and immediately homed in on the guy in question. A gorgeous African-American guy was striding toward us, eyes locked on Mark with the same smile on his lips. And I had to say—my son had damned good taste in men. Devon’s black hair had been divided into braids, the longest of which were loosely tied together at the base of his neck while some of the shorter ones hung beside his face. He was tall, fit, and he had a warm, infectious smile.

As Devon approached, Mark said, “So, um, this is Devon. Devon, my dad, Greg, and his boyfriend, Sailo.”

Everyone shook hands. As Devon sat beside Mark, they shared a quick peck on the lips before Devon turned to flag down the waitress.

With our drinks on the table and his on the way, we all faced each other.

Okay. Here goes. Same-sex double date. With my son.

Devon leaned forward, peering at Sailo’s arm. “That’s some great line work. Who’s your artist?”

“A friend in California.” Sailo pulled his sleeve up, revealing more of the intricate tattoo.

“Polynesian, right?”

Sailo nodded. “Samoan.”

“It’s great work.”

“Thanks.”

While they scrutinized Sailo’s ink, I turned to Mark. “So, how long before
you
start getting tattooed?”

His cheeks colored, and he sheepishly lowered his gaze. “Uh…”

I chuckled. “You already have one, don’t you?”

Avoiding my eyes, he raised three fingers.

“Three?” My jaw dropped. “This from the kid who broke out in hives at the sight of a needle?”

“Well, to be fair,” Sailo broke in, “they’re not quite the same thing.”

“Exactly,” Mark said.

“And to be even fairer”—Sailo smirked—“those silly tattoo needles they use here have nothing on the ones they used on me.” He leaned back and lifted his shirt just enough to reveal a few lines of his big tattoo. “
This
was a painful tattoo.”

Mark gulped, eyes widening.

Devon craned his neck. “Wow. That is some sick work. How long did it take?”

“A long, long time.” Sailo pulled his shirt back down and reached for his drink. “A lot of very long sessions over the course of a few years.”

“And they do that the traditional way, right?” Devon made a gesture like he was holding a pencil and poking the air with it. “One dot at a time?”

“Yep.” Sailo took a drink, and I thought he shuddered. “One. Dot. At a time.”

“
No
thanks,” Mark said. “Mine were painful enough.”

“Speaking of.” I shot him a playfully scrutinizing look. “What tattoos do you have?”

He twisted slightly and pulled up his T-shirt sleeve, revealing a hand of playing cards—a royal flush—about the size of his palm on his upper arm. “Got that one last year.” Then the turned the other way and pulled up his other sleeve to show an elaborate Celtic design. As he fixed his shirt, he met my gaze uncertainly. Gesturing at his back, he said, “And then I have an eagle between my shoulder blades, but it isn’t done yet.”

“What I’ve seen so far is nice work,” I said. “When were you going to show your mom and me?”

“Uh, well.” He cleared his throat. “Eventually?”

I laughed. “Fair enough. They are pretty nice, though.”

“So you don’t disapprove?”

“Does it matter if I do?” I raised my glass. “You’re an adult.”

“Sometimes,” Devon muttered.

“Hey!” Mark elbowed him. “You’re not helping.”

They tried to glare at each other but burst out laughing. Devon patted Mark’s hand on the table, and then kept it there. They laced their fingers together, Devon’s dark skin and Mark’s fair skin contrasting dramatically on top of the multicolored tablecloth. Neither seemed the least bit self-conscious about showing affection in public. For that, I envied both of them.

“So,” Sailo said to Devon. “Greg says you’re a musician?”

Devon nodded. “Since I was seven.”

“Oh really?” Sailo said. “My son’s six, and I think he might have some aptitude. I’m just worried about starting him too young.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about starting music lessons young,” Devon said. “Just don’t
push
him at that age. I know a lot of kids from my music school who were burned out by fourteen because they had to practice three hours a day.” He scowled, shaking his head, which made a couple of his braids bounce against his cheek. “They probably hate music now.”

“Your parents didn’t push like that?” I asked.

“Nah. They made me practice, but I still got to go play with the other kids, do sports, all of that. I stuck with the music because I enjoyed it, not because they made me.” He turned to Sailo. “Any idea what instrument he might want to try?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sailo shrugged. “Maybe I’ll let him try a few and see if he likes one better than the others.”

“That’s how Dad did it with us,” Mark said. “The music shops that do rentals will let you try them out.”

“Good idea,” Sailo said.

As they continued talking about various instruments and difficulty levels, I slung my arm across the back of Sailo’s chair, resting my hand on his shoulder, and for a while, just watched the three of them interacting. The conversation still registered, and whenever anyone asked me something, I responded without missing a beat, but for the most part, I was watching. Taking it all in.

Sitting here at a café table with our boyfriends was mind-blowing. Even when neither of us were speaking, just being here like this—my arm behind Sailo, Mark’s fingers loosely intertwined with Devon’s between their menus—was the most open and honest my son and I had been with each other in years.

Every time Mark stole a glance at Devon and smiled, my heart sped up. That was exactly the way April had looked at Nathan when they were first together, and I caught myself hoping and praying Mark had found someone as amazing as the man his sister had married. As far as I was concerned, all my kids deserved nothing less than the best partners, and especially after all the hell Mark had been through—hiding his sexuality, battling that godawful depression—I hoped he’d found the man he deserved.

They were young, I reminded myself, and they’d only been together a year. Even if there was talk of moving in together, things like this didn’t always last. But for the moment, they really did seem deeply, genuinely happy. What more could a father ask for?

A close relationship with his son, for one thing. But that was finally happening. Out of nowhere, prompted by the last thing I’d expected, we were here. He was smiling. He was
talking
. I tried not to think about how many more years he would’ve stayed distant and silent if his mother and I had stayed married. What would have finally pushed him to come out and tell us he was gay. He’d kept it quiet all this time. How much longer could that have gone on?

Though my divorce still hurt, I was thankful for it today. I’d found my way to Sailo, and that had brought me closer to Mark.

Absently stroking Sailo’s shoulder through his shirt, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe the divorce had been a blessing in disguise after all. Sailo was in my life now. My son and I had found some common ground I’d never imagined we’d have. I was being open and honest with myself about who I was attracted to. About who I was.

Though it still scared me to be starting over a whole lot later in life than I would’ve liked, maybe this would all work out for the better after all.

After dinner, we left the restaurant and lingered outside for a few minutes. I wouldn’t have objected to staying until the place shut down, but everyone had places to be early in the morning, so we called it a night. Mark hugged me again. We shook hands with each other’s respective boyfriends, and then headed off in separate directions.

A few steps from the door, I paused and turned back. For a moment, I watched them walking away, hand in hand on their way down the thinly-crowded sidewalk. Admittedly, I envied them. Though Mark had been nervous about coming out to me, he and his boyfriend obviously didn’t mind people knowing they were a couple. The way they kept smiling at each other, I wasn’t even sure they were aware there were other people around to notice them in the first place.

“You okay?” Sailo asked.

I turned to him, and the instant our eyes met, I smiled like Mark had been smiling at Devon. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He didn’t question. He just returned the smile, sending shivers down my spine and adding to that giddiness in my stomach.

I gave Mark and Devon one last glance, and then we headed toward my car.

As we walked, neither of us said anything. The silence was comfortable and pleasant—two people enjoying each other’s company without the need to fill the space with anything. My heart was still going a million miles an hour.

Our fingers brushed, sending a tingle right through me. I glanced at him, and when he met my eyes, he smiled. Without a word, I slipped my hand into his. He splayed his fingers, letting me lace mine in between, and we both gently closed our hands.

We glanced at each other. Smiled.

And, holding hands in public for the first time, continued down the sidewalk.