“What’d you do?”
“I flipped out and called my mom.” He squinted as if viewing the memory from a distance. “I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a choice. There was a baby in a basket with a bottle, a few diapers, and an immunization card with the name Charlie on it on my doorstep, for fuck’s sake. My parents drove to West Hollywood. They hadn’t seen my apartment yet, and they weren’t impressed. They wanted to take over. First we did a DNA test to make sure he was mine, and then they started paperwork to put him up for adoption to a nice Catholic home. In the meantime, they said they’d foster him.”
“That didn’t happen,” I guessed.
“No. I went along with the DNA test, obviously. But I just…I couldn’t stand the thought of giving my kid to my parents. I’d spent years planning my own escape. Years. I couldn’t leave him with them. It made no sense, but I refused. The harder they pushed for me to be reasonable, the more resolute I was. Charlie was mine. I would never ever let them raise him. However, I needed help in the beginning. My mom babysat while I worked. I drove the Sepulveda Pass every day, back and forth to drop him off. But I always picked him up by six. I had no social life whatsoever until he was two and I was commanded to be at an opening event party. That’s where I met Gray. And that’s when life got easier. And much, much better.”
I ignored the puzzling sting of jealousy. “Your parents didn’t know he was your boyfriend, did they?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. No one knew. We were just roommates as far as the real world was concerned. Very close friends.” His smile had a detached, plastic quality. “Have you ever lied about your relationship to keep your family safe?”
“No. I mean, when I first figured out that guys did it for me too, I was in junior high. I didn’t exactly go shout it from the rooftops. I thought it was a fluke that I got dizzy around certain dudes. My mom said it was normal.”
“You asked your mom?” Seb intercepted incredulously.
I nodded. “Yeah, she said it was probably hormones and not to worry. I tried to take her advice, but high school locker rooms twentysomething years ago weren’t very forgiving. I looked, but I was discreet. I only dated girls. Even in college when I finally gave in to the gay, I didn’t ‘date’ men. I didn’t want a romantic connection, I just wanted sex.”
“I can relate to that. Except for me, I had to date girls so no one would be overly suspicious of my living situation. Gray did too. I was better at feigning interest. That’s not something I’m proud of, but I won’t apologize for it. For me, it was survival. Two male lovers raising a kid? That was true career suicide. Now it would make us insta celebrities.”
“The irony.”
Seb inclined his head, then turned to study the books on the shelf next to him. I’d noticed that the more he talked, the calmer he seemed. His voice grew stronger, his tone resolute and matter-of-fact. Whatever storm had moved through him had passed.
“That’s exactly it. Wicked, tragic irony.” He sighed dramatically. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t quite over.
“How so?”
“My religious upbringing taught me that love and family were the ultimate symbols of true prosperity. I had that with Gray and Charlie, but no one knew. There was no wedding. There was no acknowledgment of our family dinners or visits to zoos and parks, bedtime stories, homework. I lied about them. Always.” He pointed toward the window. “That nice Catholic family that lived a few blocks away? They taught me to lie. Maybe I should have been grateful for the lessons. The truth is overrated in my industry, but it’s hell on a relationship.”
“I bet.”
He scratched his nape and huffed. “I never stood a chance with Gray. Or anyone. I don’t know how to be truly honest. The way you’re supposed to be with the person you care most about. Gray figured it out and I’m happy for him. I am. I’m just…”
“Sad for the kid who lived on Greenbush Street?”
Seb met my gaze. “Yeah. I’m really sad for him. He’s kind of a mess.”
“Nah, he’s not so bad.” I nudged his knee under the table and smiled kindly. “But you know, sometimes it’s okay to mourn the past and let yourself feel life’s bumps and scrapes. I think we learn from those old scars. They make us stronger.”
Jesus, I couldn’t believe the shit I’d just spouted. I’d smack me if I were him.
He fixed me with a glassy expression. “Hmm.”
“You know, never mind. Feel free to jump in and tell me to shut up whenever you want. I sound like a self-help greeting card.”