“It’s fine. Actually, I prefer people have a better understanding of it before casting judgement. Yes, Marcus and Caleb are together too. Marcus feels like he can be his most authentic self around Caleb, and Caleb is there for him as his biggest cheerleader, really. I also thinkthat Marcus reminds Caleb of the life he once lived and thought he’d never be able to again after Aaron. He’s pulled Caleb out of the past by guiding him through it, if that makes sense.”
“Gah,” Sarah huffs. “That sounds so perfect…”
And I have to agree with her on that. How does that saying go? We may not have it all together, but together we have it all? Yeah, it’s something like that…
Marcus taps me on the shoulder, startling me. “What can I help with?” he asks, obviously noting my frantic state.
I want to tear my goddamn hair out. I don’t usually put this much effort into Thanksgiving dinner because it’s always been just Brody, Marcus, and myself. This year, however, we’re entertaining guests, and I’m meeting the Wilmots for the first time, in person. And I might be freaking the fuck out, just atinybit.
Caleb’s mom and dad, his sister, Natalie, her husband, Danny, and their three kids, along with his Nana Wilmot are all coming. So yeah, maybe I should have spent more time preparing for today in advance, but it felt too good to spend some time with my friend yesterday, getting everything off my chest, that it left me little time to do anything else but get the pies done.
Marcus wraps his arms around my waist, pressing himself in from behind, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder. “Babe, take a minute and breathe. We’ve got time before they all get here.”
Caleb and his family are all over at his house, going through all the things that they might want before he puts the house up on themarket—probably rehashing all their summer memories there as well, a nod to the property that brought them to Ternbay every year. I know Caleb, though, and he’s probably using it as time to figure out how to properly introduceus—our triad, plus Brody—to them.
“Can you baste the turkey and keep the squash from boiling over while I hop in the shower?” I ask him.
“Take all the time you need, Lo. I think I can handle it,” he quips, hugging me tighter.
I sigh and lean back into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so frazzled that I haven’t even told you how amazing you look today.”
I feel his cheek grow hot where it’s pressed up against mine. Then, he gulps hard. “You don’t think it’ll be too much? I mean, I should probably go change, right? Wait to wear this for when you’re not just meeting everyone for the first time today?”
I’m about to answer when Brody steps into the kitchen. “I think you should keep the outfit you have on, Dad,” he says matter-of-factly. “You tell me I can do brave things all the time…”
When Marcus came out of our bedroom wearing an off-the-shoulder, cream-colored sweater-dress this morning, Brody was uncharacteristicallyoffhis video games and out helping me out in the kitchen. At first, he was a little stunned, to say the least, but then he recalled the conversation we all had while we were out camping, and he just started asking respectful questions instead. To say that I was shocked by the maturity in which Brody handled the situation would be an understatement.
“Are you going to wear any jewelry with it?” Brody asks, exuding pure curiosity.
Marcus pulls away from me and frowns slightly. “Dad doesn’t have any pretty jewelry that would go good with this.”
“I have plenty in my jewelry box,” I note. “Ooh, I think I have a statement pendant that would go well with your dress, actually…”
I watch as my husband’s eyes light up. “You’d let me wear your jewelry? I thought you were pretty staunch on your stance about us sharing.”
I click my tongue. “For frig’s sake, Marco. Socks, underwear, and toothbrushes—that’sallI’ve ever griped about.”
“Bodywash, too…”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I like how yours smells on you, and that’s all I’m going to say about that whileour childis in the room with us,” I hiss.
Marcus smirks. “Good to know. Now, go take your shower, and I’ll rummage through your jewelry box after.”
“Do you want me to do any makeup for you?” I offer.
Marcus cheeks flame pink again. I reach up and stroke one with the pad of my thumb. “I don’t want to shave my face,” he admits. “I like my beard. I like the gender-ambiguity and the juxtaposition my facial hair creates.”
“What’s gender-ambiguity?” Brody asks, stumbling over the words. “Does that mean you wanna be a girl, Dad? Isn’t that, like, transgender?”
Marcus scooches down—which, at his height, actually renders him mostly eye-to-eye with Brody. He shakes his head. “No, Brode. I don’t want to be a girl. I identify as he/him, so I’m not non-binary either. I do, however, like expressing myself in a way that doesn’t classify me as strictly male or female because I just generally don’t think that clothes or toys or anything like that need to be gendered. I’ve never seen a reason why kids need to grow up believing that boys shouldn’t play with baby dolls, or girls can’t play with trucks, and why I was yelledat for playing dress up in my mom’s closet—” He immediately catches his admission and purses his lips.
“Who yelled at you?” Brody asks, brows pinched with concern.
“Grandad,” I tell him, because I know Marcus won’t.
What I won’t confess is that Marcus’ dad actuallyslappedhim during that fight. As far as I know, from what Marcus told me, that was the only time Lorenzo ever laid a hand on him, but it was enough to scare the shit out of me, given that he would strike a child. Marcus was only eight when this happened.
Not that I wasn’t already petrified enough of his stricter than necessary parents, but after Marcus confessed that to me, I was a lot more wary of his father. I spent evenmoretime over there, ready to hand Lorenzo his ass if he ever struck Marcus again. I don’t care if I was “just a little girl” at the time and he was an authority figure that I was scared as hell of, I would have throat-punched Lorenzo without a second thought.
