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“Well, it’s…I’m not really done editing it.”
“Okay. If it’s not ready, I won’t ask to read it.” He releases me.
I am overwhelmed with love for him in this moment. He doesn’t press me, doesn’t try to make me feel guilty, he simply accepts that I’m not sure how I feel. And if I’m not sure, maybe whatever secrets he still keeps are those that he’s unsure about. If he’s going to trust me with those someday, I’m going to have to trust him. I’m going to have to share a piece of myself that I haven’t shared with anyone I care about. I need to let him read a story.
“No, I want you to read it. Hang on.”
I go into the office and return with a few loose-leaf sheets of paper. “It’s, um, well, it’s not exactly how I want it, but it’s close,” I say, handing him the papers. I join him on the couch, but not so close that I can touch him. I want to watch his reactions.
Chris looks deep into my eyes as he holds the papers, and I hear the words he doesn’t speak. He knows how vulnerable I feel sharing something I’m not one hundred percent satisfied with, and he understands the magnitude of the gesture I just made by giving it to him. He might not know I love him, but he knows I trust him completely. I nod, almost imperceptibly, and he begins to read.
I’ve given him a story about a little girl who has trouble making decisions, mainly because she has too many choices. She could never choose which toy to play with because she had so many. She could never choose which clothes to wear because she had so many. The moral is that too many choices often leads to confusion, and that we should learn to be content with less. It doesn’t fit Charlie in the sense that he over-thinks because of caution, not an abundance of choices. But there is a certain paralysis that comes with weighing a decision too much, and it seems to me that maybe Charlie has missed some of life’s spontaneous moments by being too methodical in his decision-making.
As Chris scans the papers, I find myself paralyzed with anxiety. I thought it would be a good idea to watch him read, but the reality is quite the opposite. Every smile, every frown, every blink makes me squirm with unease. Chris’s expressions probably don’t mean anything beyond absorbing the words, but I can’t help wondering if his smiles mean cute or cheesy, his frowns concentration or confusion.
This is not shaping up to be the great idea I thought it would be. After all, I’m putting myself on display. Not in a physical sense, of course, but in an emotional one, and his responses will undoubtedly affect me more deeply than anything he’s ever said about me, like how he finds me interesting or sexy. Waiting for his reaction is a special kind of torture. Plus, he has to be the world’s slowest reader. It’s a short story, one I would have finished in about three minutes, but he’s still reading. What have I done?
After an eternity, Chris sets the papers on the coffee table and pulls me into his lap. “I love it,” he says as he strokes my back. “I can see a little of Charlie in the main character and a little of myself.”
“You?”
“Sure. Remember I told you about sampling everything life had to offer?” I nod. “Well, I can’t say I ever had trouble making decisions when I was over-indulging in life, but I didn’t find anything to make me happy, either. Not long term, anyway. Maybe I was too busy sampling to really appreciate anything. Maybe I would have been happier with less.”
Wow. I think back to the first time I met Chris. He’d struck me as intelligent, but in a worldly way. He also conveyed an air of confidence and aloofness. He definitely didn’t strike me as introspective. But he’s all of those things.
“You really see yourself in that story?” I lean my head against his chest.
“A bit, sure. Don’t you see yourself there?”
“What do you mean?” I look at him.
“Well, I guess I think a part of you would be in every character or any story you write.”
I consider this, wondering if I’m present in this particular story. I suppose everyone can learn to make do with less, and in that sense the lesson can be applied to me, but do I struggle with decisions? I certainly have mulled over the decision about whether to lose my pen name for an extensive amount of time, but that’s uncharacteristic of me and likely borne of the fact that my choice could have a significant impact on my future. When it comes to decisions in general, I’m usually pretty laid back.
He raises an interesting point, though. Do I imprint any of my own traits on this character? On any character? Not deliberately. In fact, when it comes to the romances, I actively try not to impart any of my own traits on the character. It’s more fun to create someone from scratch than to try to build off of my own make up. But how to answer his question? As it relates to this story, since I don’t typically struggle with decisions and I’m not prone to overindulge, I’d have to say there’s nothing of me in this character.
“I guess I identify with the lesson more than the character,” I answer.
“Ah, so that’s why you drive such an ancient truck.” He grins.
I laugh. “I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but yes, I guess so. It still runs great and I love it, so why complicate my life with finding another when I have what I need?”
“I like the way your mind works.” Chris kisses me deeply, possessive and tender at the same time. “Show me what else is in that mind of yours,” he says as he carries me to the bedroom. And I do.
I’m a little apprehensive about going to work Monday. One the one hand, its a relief that we don't have to keep things from Charlie anymore, and I’ve already decided not to keep things with Chris a secret from my coworkers, although I’m not going to speak up unless the opportunity presents itself. But there’s a part of me that feels a twinge of guilt over keeping secrets at all, and that’s why I’m feeling a little nervous. I’m also feeling a little melancholy without Chris next to me.
We’ve been inseparable from the time he arrived at my house Thursday night until this morning, and in that short time, I’ve grown so used to his presence that I feel his absence in my bones.
I’m so glad that after a rough start we’ve arrived at the spot we’re in now. I can’t imagine my life without him, which maybe should set off some warning bells since I still don’t know exactly how he feels, but it doesn’t. It’s probably foolish to get too attached before knowing how deep his feelings run, but I do know he cares about me, a lot, and for now, that’s enough. I just hope it doesn’t make things awkward with Charlie.
There's no time to find out, because the office is a flurry of activity, and the first thing Charlie asks me is whether I can draft a letter to the leads he met the previous week at a charter school convention in California. The rest of the team is hurriedly compiling mailing lists and designing the look of the letter itself. It’s not until the end of the day when things begin to settle that Charlie appears in my doorway.
“So, you and my brother?” He smiles.
I take a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming about it earlier.”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “I understand why you weren’t.”
