Paying Her Dues
CHAPTER9
Mike
Things are fucking tense with Sam at home that night. We’re waiting for word on the auditions, but that’s not what’s bothering him. It’s me. And Jess. And me and Jess together.
Nothing I do—not ham and pineapple pizza, not two hours of Project Runaway reruns, not special-ordering Lagerfeld new Swarovski crystal rhinestones for his in-progress pride vest—seem to help one fucking bit.
Until I make us both a hot chocolate with a whole bag of marshmallows like I used do when he was a kid and say, “Talk.”
He sits down across from me. Eyes set and hard. I can see he’s pissed. Pissed and confused and maybe betrayed. All of which is totally understandable.
So I go first.
“I was going to tell you. Of course I was going to tell you, son. But you hadn’t been in the door thirty-seconds before you figured it out yourself.”
His eyes soften. He takes a marshmallow from the bag and dips it into his mug. Progress.
“Of course I did, Dad. It was like I just walked into a soap opera. The desire was so thick it was like angel food cake.”
I lift my hands. “Still. I was going to tell you. I was about to tell you. Alright? Don’t bust my balls for being quicker on the draw than me.”
He huffs but then nods with understanding. “I get that. But that’s not really what’s bothering me.”
“What then?”
He nibbles his lip and fusses with the mascara on his lashes. “What I want to know is this: Is it real? Are you happy?”
Two questions. Two big questions. Two questions. “I can’t speak for her. But speaking for myself? Fuck. Yes. It’s real. And I’m happier than I can even remember being.”
Sam smiles a little, looking down at his cocoa. “It’s real for her, too. I can see it.”
I sure hope so. I think so. But she’s got me as upside down as a teenager. “You think?”
“Pfffft, yeah. For real, for real. I can see it on her face. And honestly, Dad, I’d have been so freaking stoked all along if only you’d told me what was going on. But instead I come home to find my bestie playing Mommy Dearest and my dad looking like he’s never known love before.”
Goddamn it, this boy. Every once in a while, he cuts right though it all to say the thing that needs to be said. Because have I ever known love? Like this? Until now?
No. Not even close.
I lean back in the dining chair. “I do love her. And I have loved her. But I didn’t want to get between you two. And I had no fucking idea that she felt the same.”
Sam sips his cocoa. “Why wouldn’t she, Dad? You’re a catch. All the moms at orchestra think so. And all the mom’s at school as far back as I can remember. I mean, come on, how many casserole’s were gifted to you in the pick up line in elementary school? Those were booty offers Dad, not charity.”
“I’ve never given less of a fuck about the orchestra or school mom’s than I do right now,” I say, and eat a marshmallow from the bag.
Sam wags his finger. “There’s one orchestra mom that does require that you give at least a single fuck.”
He’s got that right. “Janet.”
“Mmmhmmm,” he says, scooping up Lagerfeld from the floor. Right now he’s in this sort of flannel pajama set. Very cozy. “Her parents are the obstacle. And don’t forget her dad is your bestie. But if you really mean it, Dad, if she’s the one?”
The one. The one.
She’s the one. For now and always. I’ve never known anything with so much certainty in my life. “I can’t be without her, Sam.” My voice is thick with emotion, gravely and deep. “I need her in my life. She makes everything makes sense.’
Sam nods, wise beyond his years and with a heart of pure gold.
“Then go on. Finish your cocoa, Dad. And go see her. Because you gotta fix this shit and I gotta make some peace with my best friend being my step-mom.”