Very Nearly Eighteen Months Later
“Absolutely not.”
Kai set down his fork. “Tate. We talked about this.”
“No,” I pointed out, “you talked at me about it. And I said ‘absolutely not’ then, too, at which point you insisted I’d change my mind closer to the time.”
“Right.”
“Well, I haven’t.” I frowned, trying to guide a piece of miso shrimp onto my fork. “Changed my mind, I mean.”
He made a noise, which I figured was meant to imply thinly-veiled disbelief at my obstinance. “But... it’s your fortieth. We have to celebrate it.”
I grunted disapproval past the precariously balanced seafood. “We absolutely do not have to, no.”
Kai stared at me, as if dumbfounded, then turned to his left. “Dude, help me out, here.”
I gave Charlie a warning look, as he opened his mouth.
He winked at me. “Look, if Daddy doesn’t want a party, Daddy doesn’t have to have a party.”
I jabbed the fork - tines now bare, the shrimp safely delivered to my mouth - in his direction. “See,” I told Kai, swallowing. “That’s why I don’t want a party.”
From the glare he flashed at his friend, I figured my boyfriend was regretting tagging him into the discussion. Or maybe just regretting inviting him along for dinner at all.
I’d had my own doubts about it, too, the first time Kai had suggested I venture down from the hills and meet him and his college buddies in the city.
Had made all the perfectly reasonable noises about his friends not needing to be my friends; that it was perfectly acceptable and understandable that two people in a relationship would still have their own separate lives.
And then he’d pulled out the “are you ashamed to be seen with me?” argument, and of course there was no place to go after that. Just ask when, and where, and extract the usual promises that he’d weigh in should his friends take an instant dislike to me.
“They’ll love you, don’t be ridiculous,” Kai had insisted, and I’d known better than to argue. Outside of my own head, anyway.
In the end, we’d all got on. Sure, it’d felt like Kai’s friends were waiting for everything to be revealed as some not-quite-funny practical joke, at first anyway.
But when that punchline never arrived, and as I grudgingly unclenched and stopped taking every cultural reference as an underhand nod to the age difference, I discovered I actually had more in common with a bunch of med students than I’d expected to.
Maybe because their studies had apparently accelerated them into a degree of cynicism and bleak humor that very nearly matched my own.
Kai, weirdly, seemed more the outlier than I did.
More cheerful, anyway. Most of the time that was charming and adorable, and made me wish I could throw a fistful of cash down onto the table and whisk him back up to my place before the entrees were even cleared.
It was only at moments when he got silly ideas - like, say, celebrating milestone birthdays I’d far rather ignore - that I questioned our relationship.
That’d been another tough one to handle. Relationship.
He’d been true to his word: patient, and understanding, and in no apparent hurry to attach labels which might freak me out or send me scurrying to the nearest wine bottle.
And, in turn, I’d swam more, and drunk less, and not ghosted him completely when Kai suggested it was high time I met his parents.
Met them properly, anyway; not just as the tersely-worded hermit next door.
“Forty isn’t that old,” Charlie’s latest girlfriend - whose name I’d repeated three times in my head after being introduced, had still forgotten, and guilt about which was only squashed because she was the sixth holder of the role I’d met so far - proclaimed.
She gave me what, I figured, was intended to be an earnestly supportive nod.
“Forty isn’t old at all,” Kai declared, firmly. “But it’s a milestone all the same, and it should be celebrated.”
It was a tone I was familiar with, over what had been - astonishing and inexplicable - roughly a year and a half of us dating. His “time to exit the comfort zone” voice, I’d come to think of it.
“Works, though, doesn’t it,” he’d said, when I’d grumbled out loud about him periodically treating me like a stubborn pet. I couldn’t exactly argue with him, not when my preemptive pessimism was invariably demonstrated to be unfounded.
I’d considered faking a coronary, food poisoning, or demonic possession when he’d said his parents were expecting us for drinks.
In the end, there’d been enough “Kai does what he pleases” asides dropped to make clear that Kai’s mom and dad were inured to their generally wayward son following his generally wayward dreams.
Med school attendance notwithstanding, naturally.
“We could just do a meal,” I suggested, hopefully. “Or drinks?”
Kai fixed me with a look. “There’ll be food and drink at the party.”
“And music and dancing, I suppose.” I made no attempt to hide my grumpiness.
“Let me guess,” Charlie crowed, “Daddy hates pop music, too.”
“I swear to god,” Kai told him, brandishing his fork, “I will stab you in the carotid with this, if you say another fucking word.”
Charlie mimed zipping his grinning lips, seeming entertained, but he still sat back, out of forking-distance.
“That’s in the neck, right?”
Kai blinked at me. “Have you been reading my textbooks?”
“Gotta keep up with you kids somehow.” I allowed myself a smile. A small one. Was gratified by the way Kai beamed back at me.
Charlie made a choking noise. “I think I prefer you guys arguing.”
“I think I prefer you with cutlery in your throat,” I snapped back, mildly, without looking at him.
He snorted, indignant, but clearly decided further comment would not play in his favor.
“Just let me celebrate you, please?” Kai’s expression was halfway between pleading and hopeful.
I sighed. “I get veto rights over the guest-list.”
“Rude,” Charlie muttered, when I cut my eyes at him.
“And no speeches,” I added, ignoring him. “And... other rules. Which I reserve the right to add closer to the time.”
“We can be flexible,” Kai agreed. He reached out, across the table, and waited for me to take his hand.
I’d felt awkward, at first. Self-conscious about his shows of affection, or of showing it myself.
Shoulders stiff when he hugged me in public; wary of his casual touches.
It’d taken a while, but I could look back now and laugh at how uptight I’d been, how ridiculously caught up on what someone - anyone - might think on seeing us together.
In the end, I hadn’t been sure whether to feel relief on realizing nobody else cared, or angry that I’d fooled myself into thinking otherwise for so long. At the things I’d missed out on, because I was too busy being afraid of my feelings and who might observe them.
I reached out, to lace my fingers in his. “I still get to choose my present, right?”
Kai smiled at me. It was a loaded, knowing, positively filthy smile, and in that moment I couldn’t say I cared who saw it, or could guess at what it meant.
“All you have to do is ask,” he promised.
––––––––
The End