“I know.” He says, moving the boobie light around in circles. “They told me already last time.”
I clear my throat and push down the ache in my chest. “Have you thought about what you’re going to call Justin once they’re married?”
Tommy stares at me, his gaze searching, before blinking once, twice, and on the third time I look away, because the question in his eyes makes me question myself.
“He’s just… Justin,” Tommy says slowly, as if I’m the child in this situation.
I’m so damn afraid, so nervous it’s making me stutter. “S-so… you’re not—not going to call him dad?” I ask, facing him again.
Tommy places the flashlight between us, the glow casting a shadow over his face. He faces me, his eyes right on mine. “I like Justin. He’s cool,” he says. “But he’s not my dad, Dad.”
I exhale, relieved. “How did you grow up so fast?”
“I’m six. I am grown up.” Tommy shrugs. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
He moves the flashlight behind him and shuffles closer until his arm is over my chest. “I like my fort. Thank you for making it for me,” he says through a yawn. “But I didn’t really need it. I just wanted you to see me.”
29
—Joshua—
The guys and I were supposed to meet up a few days before we left for Hong Kong to promote the event. We only had a day home from a trip to Mexico before heading off to tour again. It was on that one day home when I got a phone call from Chris. He groaned into the phone, his words echoing around him. “Promo trip’s cancelled,” he mumbled. Then puked into what I assume was a toilet. “We’ll meet for the flight to Hong Kong.” “Are you good?”
“Not at all.”
Turns out that on a night I chose to stay in and spend a couple of hours video chatting/messaging with Becca while in Mexico, the guys decided to try their luck at some local food stands. Apparently, it didn’t turn out well.
For them.
For me, it was a sign.
I packed my bags, and Tommy’s, too. Then I called Mom, told her to pack hers, said goodbye to Chazarae who had no idea what day or year it was. I told her I loved her and that I’d be back soon, and a few hours later, the three of us were boarding a plane to St. Louis.
I guess I probably should’ve notified Becca at some point between Chris’s phone call and the boarding of the flight that I was coming to see her, but it was rare that I got a couple days off to do whatever I wanted, and I wanted her. Even if it were for the few hours I’d get to see her between work at her internship and shifts at Say Something. Even if it meant being her personal chauffeur to those things and kissing her goodnight at her door, it didn’t matter. I just wanted to see her. Be near her. Do bad, bad things to her.
Okay, so the whole long distance thing was starting to wear me down. There’s only so much a guy can take. Becca and I tried to make some form of contact at least once a day, but with both our schedules, it became almost impossible. I’d wait three hours for a response, only to be dragged away for a few hours, and then she’d be busy, and so it goes, on and on, until a day passes, or two. And when we finally can be at one place for more than an hour, we sit and talk and we discuss how badly it sucks that we can’t be together and we make up stupid fantasy lives where nothing and no one else exists but her and me. It’s as satisfying as it is depressing because it’s exactly what I said; a fantasy.
Then a few days ago, she randomly sent a text that read, “You should just move here. Lol.”
That stupid “lol” distracted me for way too long, and I thought way too much about it. So much so that I found myself looking up houses near her. Houses I thought she’d like. Until a single thought infiltrated my mind and I slammed my laptop shut and called myself stupid. Because Chazarae.
I couldn’t leave Chaz.
I tried to reason that moving wouldn’t be such a big deal and that she’d want to be near Becca, too. You know, on the days she actually remembered who Becca was. Besides, she had in-home care. It’s not like I’d be taking her out of a special home to be with us.
Right?
Wrong.
I’d be taking her away from her home, and that thought alone had me shutting down yet another fantasy my mind had unknowingly created.
* * *
It’s dark by the time I find myself standing on Becca’s porch, memories of the last time I did this freezing me to my spot. I take a mental scan of my surroundings: the single car in the driveway, the dim flickering of the TV on inside, and then I work up whatever courage I need and knock on the damn door.
I step back as soon as it opens and Martin appears, eyes narrowed in confusion before a grin appears. “What are you doing here, Warden?” Swear, he actually sees the relaxing of my shoulders when he says those words because he chuckles, deep and gruff.
“I came to surprise Becs,” I tell him.
He nods, a hand going in his front pocket while the other opens the door wider for me. “She’s not home, but you’re welcome to wait for her.”
I enter their house for the first time and pull out my phone to send a text to Mom, letting her know I’ll be back at the hotel later. She replies quickly, telling me she didn’t expect me at all that night, and by the time I shove the phone back in my pocket and look up, Martin’s standing in front of me with a beer in each hand. I take one and accept his offered gesture for me to sit on the couch.
I glance around his house—at the kitchen attached to a living room and a bunch of doors I assume lead to bedrooms and bathrooms. It’s bigger than my apartment, but much smaller than Chaz’s. “Becca’s at work,” Martin says, sitting next to me.
“At the paper?” I look at my watch. It’s almost ten. “Still?”
“I take it she didn’t tell you?” Martin grimaces. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Tell me what?”
—Becca—
I freeze just inside the doorway and look over at my dad, who’s sitting on the couch next to Josh, both of them grinning like fools. And then something takes over me. This burst of elation that I hadn’t felt since some punk skater gave me my very own skateboard with a single note, a single question, asking me to be his. I drop my bags, my keys, my need to look pretty in front of Josh, and I charge at him. He stands just in time to catch me, his arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me off my feet. “Surprise,” he murmurs against my neck, his laughter mixing with Dad’s.
I pull back and grab his face in my hands, and then I kiss him. His mouth, his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his everything, over and over.
“I think she’s happy to see you,” Dad says.
Josh settles me carefully on my feet and sits back down. I sit sideways on his lap, my arms around his neck, refusing to let him go. I try to contain my smile, but nothing in the world can prevent it from splitting my face in two. My cheeks sting from the unfamiliar pressure, and for some reason, I’m bouncing. I grab Josh’s face again and get him to look at me. “Why?” I mouth.
“I had some free time.” He shrugs. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I clear my throat and push down the ache in my chest. “Have you thought about what you’re going to call Justin once they’re married?”
Tommy stares at me, his gaze searching, before blinking once, twice, and on the third time I look away, because the question in his eyes makes me question myself.
“He’s just… Justin,” Tommy says slowly, as if I’m the child in this situation.
I’m so damn afraid, so nervous it’s making me stutter. “S-so… you’re not—not going to call him dad?” I ask, facing him again.
Tommy places the flashlight between us, the glow casting a shadow over his face. He faces me, his eyes right on mine. “I like Justin. He’s cool,” he says. “But he’s not my dad, Dad.”
I exhale, relieved. “How did you grow up so fast?”
“I’m six. I am grown up.” Tommy shrugs. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
He moves the flashlight behind him and shuffles closer until his arm is over my chest. “I like my fort. Thank you for making it for me,” he says through a yawn. “But I didn’t really need it. I just wanted you to see me.”
29
—Joshua—
The guys and I were supposed to meet up a few days before we left for Hong Kong to promote the event. We only had a day home from a trip to Mexico before heading off to tour again. It was on that one day home when I got a phone call from Chris. He groaned into the phone, his words echoing around him. “Promo trip’s cancelled,” he mumbled. Then puked into what I assume was a toilet. “We’ll meet for the flight to Hong Kong.” “Are you good?”
“Not at all.”
Turns out that on a night I chose to stay in and spend a couple of hours video chatting/messaging with Becca while in Mexico, the guys decided to try their luck at some local food stands. Apparently, it didn’t turn out well.
For them.
For me, it was a sign.
I packed my bags, and Tommy’s, too. Then I called Mom, told her to pack hers, said goodbye to Chazarae who had no idea what day or year it was. I told her I loved her and that I’d be back soon, and a few hours later, the three of us were boarding a plane to St. Louis.
I guess I probably should’ve notified Becca at some point between Chris’s phone call and the boarding of the flight that I was coming to see her, but it was rare that I got a couple days off to do whatever I wanted, and I wanted her. Even if it were for the few hours I’d get to see her between work at her internship and shifts at Say Something. Even if it meant being her personal chauffeur to those things and kissing her goodnight at her door, it didn’t matter. I just wanted to see her. Be near her. Do bad, bad things to her.
Okay, so the whole long distance thing was starting to wear me down. There’s only so much a guy can take. Becca and I tried to make some form of contact at least once a day, but with both our schedules, it became almost impossible. I’d wait three hours for a response, only to be dragged away for a few hours, and then she’d be busy, and so it goes, on and on, until a day passes, or two. And when we finally can be at one place for more than an hour, we sit and talk and we discuss how badly it sucks that we can’t be together and we make up stupid fantasy lives where nothing and no one else exists but her and me. It’s as satisfying as it is depressing because it’s exactly what I said; a fantasy.
Then a few days ago, she randomly sent a text that read, “You should just move here. Lol.”
That stupid “lol” distracted me for way too long, and I thought way too much about it. So much so that I found myself looking up houses near her. Houses I thought she’d like. Until a single thought infiltrated my mind and I slammed my laptop shut and called myself stupid. Because Chazarae.
I couldn’t leave Chaz.
I tried to reason that moving wouldn’t be such a big deal and that she’d want to be near Becca, too. You know, on the days she actually remembered who Becca was. Besides, she had in-home care. It’s not like I’d be taking her out of a special home to be with us.
Right?
Wrong.
I’d be taking her away from her home, and that thought alone had me shutting down yet another fantasy my mind had unknowingly created.
* * *
It’s dark by the time I find myself standing on Becca’s porch, memories of the last time I did this freezing me to my spot. I take a mental scan of my surroundings: the single car in the driveway, the dim flickering of the TV on inside, and then I work up whatever courage I need and knock on the damn door.
I step back as soon as it opens and Martin appears, eyes narrowed in confusion before a grin appears. “What are you doing here, Warden?” Swear, he actually sees the relaxing of my shoulders when he says those words because he chuckles, deep and gruff.
“I came to surprise Becs,” I tell him.
He nods, a hand going in his front pocket while the other opens the door wider for me. “She’s not home, but you’re welcome to wait for her.”
I enter their house for the first time and pull out my phone to send a text to Mom, letting her know I’ll be back at the hotel later. She replies quickly, telling me she didn’t expect me at all that night, and by the time I shove the phone back in my pocket and look up, Martin’s standing in front of me with a beer in each hand. I take one and accept his offered gesture for me to sit on the couch.
I glance around his house—at the kitchen attached to a living room and a bunch of doors I assume lead to bedrooms and bathrooms. It’s bigger than my apartment, but much smaller than Chaz’s. “Becca’s at work,” Martin says, sitting next to me.
“At the paper?” I look at my watch. It’s almost ten. “Still?”
“I take it she didn’t tell you?” Martin grimaces. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Tell me what?”
—Becca—
I freeze just inside the doorway and look over at my dad, who’s sitting on the couch next to Josh, both of them grinning like fools. And then something takes over me. This burst of elation that I hadn’t felt since some punk skater gave me my very own skateboard with a single note, a single question, asking me to be his. I drop my bags, my keys, my need to look pretty in front of Josh, and I charge at him. He stands just in time to catch me, his arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me off my feet. “Surprise,” he murmurs against my neck, his laughter mixing with Dad’s.
I pull back and grab his face in my hands, and then I kiss him. His mouth, his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his everything, over and over.
“I think she’s happy to see you,” Dad says.
Josh settles me carefully on my feet and sits back down. I sit sideways on his lap, my arms around his neck, refusing to let him go. I try to contain my smile, but nothing in the world can prevent it from splitting my face in two. My cheeks sting from the unfamiliar pressure, and for some reason, I’m bouncing. I grab Josh’s face again and get him to look at me. “Why?” I mouth.
“I had some free time.” He shrugs. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
