Page 53 of Fear of Flying
His pen clattered to the table. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. “What? Huh? No.”
“Ahh, don’t worry. You’re fine. It’s not like I’m going to tattle on you to your boss,” teased the other Mr. Davidson—Rich, he’d said to call him. “Sorry about Daniel, always running late.”
“It’s okay—”
“Ahh-ah, wait!” Rich interrupted, a decisive finger in the air. “I’m not supposed to apologize for him anymore, especially not after we’re done here today. Just don’t tell my therapist I slipped up.” Rich leaned in a little and winked conspiratorially.
“Heh.” Drew aimed for a casual chuckle of agreement. “I won’t,” he assured Rich.
“You know...” Rich started, letting out a sigh and examining the thick gold wedding band he was still wearing on his left ring finger. He twisted it using the thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand—regretfully or thoughtfully, Drew wasn’t sure—and he seemed to take another moment, maybe to search for just the right words. “I still love him. That’s probably no secret. Hah. I think my foolish heart will love him forever.”
He paused for a long moment, and all Drew could do was nod, hoping his client would catch his movement.
“I told him I wouldn’t contest things. I just want the dog.”
“Wh-what went wrong?”
Rich let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve seen your record—this ain’t your first rodeo, son. What do you think always happens? I imagine it’s divided into two categories: It wasn’t what I thought or We grew apart. I think maybe for us, it was a bit of both.”
“Heh, yeah, that’s more or less how it goes.” Drew was desperate to ask if that meant true love wasn’t real, but Rich was his client, a client whom he’d known for all of twenty minutes, most of which had been spent in silence. Just because Rich was gay didn’t mean that he had all the answers Drew was looking for.
“Ah, kid,” Rich said sympathetically, clapping a hand on Drew’s shoulder, “don’t let this jade you. Don’t let this job jade you. There’s still magic in love. Even though it’s ending like this, I still wouldn’t change a thing. The love I got for nearly ten years was worth this pain. It fucking hurts like hell, but I’d still do it all over again.”
“Y-you would?”
“In a damn heartbeat. Daniel was the love of my life. Hell, he is the love of my life. Maybe I’m not his, I dunno. But I don’t regret the love he gave me for the time we had together.”
Drew’s heart was rending inside his chest, twisting too far this way and that. He couldn’t think about this now, couldn’t feel it now. He needed to force the mask back on. This was too risky.
To distract himself, he tapped his phone to check the time, even though there was a prominent clock just opposite them on the wall, and Milo’s large head and soulful eyes greeted him. He’d gone to visit him yesterday and been that much closer to taking him home. But his work schedule wasn’t fair to Milo.
“Even if he takes the dog?” Drew blurted out, throwing in a weak chuckle at the end so he could maybe pass it off as an attempt at levity.
“Ah, if he takes the dog, fuck ’im—we’re going to court!” Rich cried animatedly, though his wink and the shrug of his shoulders told Drew there was no truth in his threat. Drew suspected Rich might let Daniel have the dog too, if he knew Daniel really wanted it.
When Daniel finally did arrive a few minutes later, Drew found himself feeling even more unmoored, his mind wrestling with the whole idea of gay marriage and what it meant and could mean and should mean. He just didn’t know. Had the whole fight for equality even been worth it when it seemed like most marriages—gay or straight—ended up in divorce?
And how the hell were you even supposed to know what love was when you’d never experienced it before?
The question plagued him throughout the entirety of the Davidsons’ settlement conference. It was still running around in circles in his mind later in the afternoon during the almost ninety-minute-long drive out to his parents’ ranch southwest of Dallas. Every song on the radio was trying to confuse him or taunt him or depress him.
“Yes, I wanna know what love is too, Foreigner,” Drew grumbled at the radio before turning it off and traveling in silence.
Of course, the quiet was too quiet, and his mind started to replay every second of every hour that had passed since he’d first met Zach. Again. His heart ached, and for days now, it’d been an ebb and flow between sharp, immediate pain and a heavy numbness settled deep in his chest. Despite the pain they caused, he was grateful for the images—they were vivid and real and let him experience things all over again, even though he was really only chasing the echoes of Zach’s touch against his skin.
Desperate for distraction, he lowered his window and let the wind whip at him, the air brisk against his skin. The noise and the feel of the wind rushing past helped occupy his senses. The rest of the drive was on a two-lane highway with little traffic, and he held his arm straight out, feeling the pressure of the wind against it. Then he raised his hand, making waves as he marveled at the strength of the air when his hand cut through it and how just a little bend or shift in the way he held his arm created enough change for the force of the air to whip it back.
The chill had finally built up enough for the cold to start pricking at his fingers, but he kept his hand out still, the biting cold a good distraction from all the thoughts and feelings running endlessly through his mind. Finally, he was forced to pull his arm in, but he left the window open for a while longer, not wanting to hear the muted silence rolling it up would bring just yet.
Drew spent the rest of the drive with some rock station blasting and the window down, hoping to keep his mind occupied enough that he wouldn’t show up at his parents’ door with a melancholy vibe or his eyes red from trying not to cry. Would his mom be able to tell it was heartbreak? Could she even guess?
I don’t see why it’s a big deal. It’s a middle school dance, and you’re going to go with Susie Miller. She’s a nice girl. Maybe you’ll have a nice time.
I just don’t really want to go to a dance, Mom. I don’t even like dancing, and I don’t want Susie to think that I like her when I’m—
You’re not that gay, Andrew!
Y-you’re right, Mom. It’s—it’s fine. I’ll go to the dance with Susie.