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“Stop saying stupid things like that,” Tom snaps as the engine of his car roars to life. “Now, I want you to tell me exactly what’s going on. We’ll make it through this. I’m here for you, okay? Always have been. Always will be. Always… No matter what.”
“I know, Tom. Thank you… Thank you for always having my back…” I trail off.
“Yeah, well, you seem to sometimes forget and crawl into your shell. I’m glad you chose to call today.”
“I didn’t mean to hide certain things from you when we were younger. I wasn’t ready, I guess.”
“Fair enough. So, spill. Considering how you sound, I doubt it’s work-related. Is it Nino? Did you guys have a fight? Did he hurt you? If he did, I’ll— ”
At last, the tears subside, and I interrupt him. “No fight whatsoever…” Reluctantly, I add, “Nino… I think we’re… He’s gone…” The tears return with a vengeance. Ugly tears. Streaming tears. Sniffling tears. My pitiful bawling almost covers the traffic noises. All the while, Tom remains silent. I’m glad that he doesn’t press. I nonetheless push myself to say more. “I was the one who hurt him… involuntarily.” Relieved that he doesn’t comment on my slurred speech— thanks to the rum—or my state—thanks to my own stupidity—I manage to carry on. “He saw something that he shouldn’t have. Something that shouldn’t have happened. Something that I never saw coming.”
“Care to elaborate? Because, honestly, I don’t understand whatever you’re trying to say.”
“The bastard tricked me.”
“Why would the man you love—and who obviously feels the same way—trick you? You’re not making sense.”
“Not Nino, Tom. Not Nino.”
“Then who?”
Why did I freeze when Nino caught me lip-locked with another man? Why did I let Nino believe that I was a willing participant? Why did I wait so long to push him away?
My body shakes at the memory of yesterday’s encounter. Back in the day, Tom also saw something that he shouldn’t have, but he never brought it up. Now it is finally time to come clean. My answer comes in the form of a strangled cry.
“Silas.”
* * *
All of these years, I believed that being a submissive meant that it was natural to belongtoanother man. To each their own, but my convo with Tom finally opened my eyes for good, and when the airline company interrupted us, my wiseass cousin came up with a surreptitious idea.
Ash
Your suitcase just landed. Where should I have it sent?
As soon as I finish typing, I deposit the phone on the coffee table and slump against the couch. Tom shoots me a sideways glance but scoots to the far end without a word. To my utter shock, I see a notification appear on the screen. My stomach twists as I snatch my phone; I wasn’t expecting such a fast reply—or any, to be honest.
Nino
Burn it.
My heart sinks.
Fuck!
It’s not like I know where to send it anyway. My world traveler of a boyfriend could have fled anywhere; I refuse to consider his angry text as proof that we’re broken up since we haven’t talked this through. Heismy boyfriend.
Heaven knows where he is—he surely won’t make it easy for me—but I know that he can’t move back to his Parisian bachelor pad. You see, when Nino decided to make Santa Monica his primary residence, he explained that he planned to sublet his apartment; he didn’t have the heart to sell it due to Garcia’s proximity. Then, since I’d never heard of Le Marais, he promptly pulled up Google Maps to show me around. It’s definitely nicer than the swamp it was named after.
Where are you, Nino?
Another text follows before Tom and I decide on the next course of action. Biting my thumbnail, which isn’t like me, I read.
Nino
Changed my mind.
Send my Leatherman & HIMYM shirt to Garcia’s.
