Olive Juice

He was almost bare.

His skin itched, and he swallowed thickly.

He glanced up at the closet door. There was a mirror hanging on the inside of it, and he could see Phillip’s reflection inside the closet, and he wasn’t moving. He was standing at one of the sets of drawers, and his eyes were closed, his breaths looking as if they were slow and deliberate. Like he was trying to get himself back under control, like he was—

David looked away.

He wrapped the towel around his waist.

He slid his underwear down from underneath it.

Left them on top of the pile.

And that was it.

He had nothing left to give.

This was everything he had.

But before he could dwell on that, Phillip was back in the room, fully clothed, arms full. He stopped for a moment, staring at David, who tried his very best not to squirm. Something passed over Phillip’s face, something David couldn’t quite figure out. And that somehow made it worse, because hadn’t there been a time when David had known everything about Phillip? Hadn’t he been able to read him like a book? Yeah, there had been. He’d known what Phillip was thinking even before Phillip thought it himself. It was just one of those things.

Here they were, though. Not quite strangers, but not what they’d once been.

“Better?” Phillip asked.

David nodded.

“I have….” He shook his head. “I was going to say that I didn’t know if I had anything that would fit you, but—you’ve lost some weight.”

David wanted to hide. “It’s just—I guess.” He shrugged awkwardly, face hot. “Maybe a little bit.”

Phillip snorted but didn’t say anything. He walked next to David and set down a pair of sweats on the bed next to the second towel. His shoulder brushed David’s, and David took a step back, coughing into his hand, looking anywhere but at Phillip.

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” Phillip said evenly. “Getting changed. These are—just, put these on, okay?”

David nodded, words stuck on the tip of his tongue.

Phillip smiled tightly before he headed toward the bathroom, toeing off those ridiculous shoes and kicking them toward the closet. He closed the door behind him but didn’t lock it.

David didn’t know why that calmed him as much as it did. It was such a little thing.

He dropped the towel and pulled on the sweats. Phillip was right; these wouldn’t have fit him a decade ago, or even three years ago. The sweatshirt was a little tight in his shoulders and a little short on his wrists, but it still hung over his frame loosely. The same with the sweatpants. They were warm and soft, and David was tired. He supposed he’d be staying here, which—well. He’d make it work. Somehow. He’d get the guest room and Phillip would stay here, and maybe he wouldn’t spend the night staring at the ceiling, his brain working hard, pointing out every little thing he could have done differently, lost in one of the many fantasies he had of how life could have been different.

(She’d be a college graduate now, working with this charity or that charity like she’d planned, saving the earth or the whales or the ice caps or the children, any number of things that caught her eye. Chances were, she’d have gone out into the big, wide world on her own, but she’d stay close, and they’d have dinner once, twice, no, three times a week, and it’d be good, because she’d be making a difference. She would be changing things for the better, and the world would be a wonderful place because she was in it.

And maybe on one of these visits, she’d be acting a little strange, nervously wringing her hands together like she was nine again, wanting to ask her fathers for a terrarium so that she could keep the snake she’d found in the backyard. Phillip and David would look at each other knowingly, waiting for her to bring up whatever was on her mind.

Eventually she would, clearing her throat and asking if she could talk to them about something. They’d be done with dinner and moved on to coffee from that fancy Keurig machine that Phillip had insisted on and David didn’t know how to use. She’d sit across from them, maybe blushing a little, the gorgeous color of her skin hiding most of it. She’d tell them that she’d met someone, and that he was interesting, and so goddamn aggravating, but that she’d been seeing him for a few months, and Daddy, get that look off your face, I was going to tell you when I was sure, okay?

And apparently she was sure now, because he was in his residency at MedStar, and that didn’t give them a lot of time to see each other, but Daddy, Papa, he is so handsome, and he makes me laugh, and he pisses me off all at the same time, and I really, really like him, so could you please just be happy for me?

Of course they could. Of course they would.

They’d meet him, and he’d be anxious, shaking their hands while Phillip glared at him, saying how lovely it was to meet the man sle

eping with their little girl, and Alice would shriek at him, screaming Papa! Don’t you dare!

It would go better after that.