All In (Firsts and Forever 2)

“Yup. He’s texted me about every two hours since his plane landed. He feels terribly guilty for doing this to you, and keeps checking to see if you’re ok. I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Christopher said with a big smile.

Jamie stuck his head in the locker room and asked his husband, “Has Charlie told you why he’s handcuffed to a twink?” To Christopher he said, “No offense.”

“That’s not an insult, so much as a simple statement of fact,” Christopher told him.

I sighed and decided to (sort of) come clean, going with Christopher’s earlier pared down explanation that he’d given Mrs. Dombruso. “Dante chained us together. He wants me to think he’s a terrible person, so I don’t try to get back together with him.” Obviously, I omitted the fact that Christopher was supposed to be freaking me out this entire time by going into detail about Dante’s sex life.

“Well, I’m convinced,” Jamie said, and left the dressing room just as Cole was coming in. Dmitri grinned and followed him.

“Dude, I’m so sorry I left you short-handed at the beginning of the lunch shift,” I told him.

“It’s fine. Who knew we’d actually busy?” He was looking at Christopher closely. He’d already asked about the cuffs earlier, and when I’d told him it was complicated, he just accepted that answer and moved on. Cole told him, “You remind me so much of my ex-boyfriend. But I won’t hold that against you.”

“You’ve never mentioned your ex,” I said. I’d actually never even been sure Cole was gay until now.

My coworker sighed and said, “I know. He broke my heart. We moved here from Idaho, with plans of building a life together. But three weeks after we got here, he dumped me. San Francisco seduced him hard and fast. I couldn’t compete with every guy in every club fawning over him. These days, he’s actually a big star in the porn industry, goes by the name Hunter Storm.” He rolled his eyes at that, then added, “So apparently, my baby is now everybody’s baby. And how bitter does that sound?”

“I’m sorry, Cole.”

“It’s been almost two years. I keep expecting it to stop hurting, but somehow it just never does.” He forced a smile and said, “And on that upbeat note, I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.” He grabbed his backpack and left the dressing room.

“You know,” Christopher said after Cole left, “I actually get a lot of work from clients calling up and asking the agency for a Hunter Storm type.”

We were still doing the public transit thing, so when we left work we boarded a bus for home. After dropping off Christopher’s art supplies and wrestling the dog onto his leash and out for a walk, we got in my truck and drove to the Safeway.

I pushed a cart around, grabbing a couple things I’d run out of, and Christopher carried a little basket. He didn’t pick up a thing, until we came to those little packs of bright orange snack crackers with peanut butter. And then he took every package off the shelf and filled his basket. “It really is the only thing I eat,” he explained, when he saw my surprised expression.

“How have you not developed scurvy or something?”

“It’s a mystery.”

He grabbed a six-pack of bottled water as well, and I decided I wanted some ice cream, so we headed to the frozen foods aisle. But I stopped short, tugging Christopher to a stop with me. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

I didn’t answer for a moment. And then I pointed at the tall, middle aged man down at the far end of the aisle and murmured, “That’s my father. He disowned me last week when I came out to him, and then my mother left him. I’ve never in my life seen him buying groceries, my mom used to do all the shopping and cooking.” My dad looked incredibly lost. He was pulling frozen dinners out of the freezer case and squinting at the back of them. Some went in his cart, some back into the case. The cart was full of nothing but frozen dinners.

Walter Connolly was a big guy, six foot two and heavy set. He was a former Marine, who still wore his graying hair in a buzz cut. He was a blue collar man, a Teamster who worked at a big newspaper printing facility. I’d never once in my life seen even a trace of vulnerability in him. Until now.

“I actually feel like going over there and helping him, but then I know he’d just call me a queer and tell me to get away from him,” I said quietly. Christopher laced his fingers with mine and held my hand, and I sighed and left the aisle without my father seeing me.

Christopher and I spent the evening in my apartment, Peaches penned back up temporarily so we could move around unmolested. I tackled the project of going through the garbage bags I’d brought from my former home, sorting my possessions into piles along the living room wall with Christopher’s help.