Chapter 10 #2
He disappears down the corridor and into a room on the left-hand side as I scrub at my hands. When he comes back, he tells me I can go in. I honestly can’t believe it’s been this easy. He’s a fucking diplomat. Isn’t there security? Isn’t he sort of important?
As I approach the door, I get my first wave of uncertainty about what I’m doing here: He’s likely going to know it’s me and not his son.
Surely he’s spoken to his son at some point already, and he’s probably still in England.
He could be pissed off that I’ve done this.
It’s not sensible, he’d said, and I ignored that and socially engineered my way into his hospital room.
It’s giving demon twink. It’s giving stalker.
Shit, maybe I should leave. But now I’m at the door and it’s slightly ajar, and I just need to know he’s alive and okay.
I take a deep breath before I step inside.
He’s sitting up in bed, a pair of dark-rimmed glasses on as he reads the newspaper.
He’s dressed in the usual blue hospital gown, wires jutting out from the collar and his hand, and the green line of the heart monitor beeping reassuringly.
When I close the door behind me, he lifts his head from the paper and stares.
He still looks hot. He almost died, is dressed in one of those horrible blue hospital nightgowns, looks like he hasn’t slept in a month, but is somehow still hot as fuck.
I stay by the door.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry, I told them I was your son; they wouldn’t have let me in otherwise.”
He doesn’t reply. He just stares blankly, like he’s never seen me before. Is his memory okay? Do heart attacks affect memory? I don’t think they do, but he’s looking at me like he has no clue who I am.
“You okay?” I come closer, shucking the tote I’m carrying off my shoulder.
“I’m alright,” he says at last.
“Okay, good. Good.” I open the bag. “I brought you some stuff. I googled what to bring people in the hospital, and there were pages and pages, so I just went with some bananas—I had them at home—and some hard candy. Oh, and your phone. It rang a couple of times, but I didn’t answer it, don’t worry.
And I brought you this. I actually thought I’d given it away because, well, I hated it, but I found it in the back of my closet.
” It was the book he was eyeing the day in the store, the one I’d told him wasn’t worth his time.
I set everything down on the trolley table by the side of the bed and sit in the chair next to it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says chidingly.
“Yeah, I know. But I was worried, and I hated sitting at home not knowing if you were okay. I mean, I called last night and they told me you were alive, but I needed to see it for myself. Plus, you didn’t have your phone, so I figured at the very least I could bring it to you.
” I lift it from the table, which I realise is out of reach given all his attachments, and hand it to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate this.” He’s avoiding my eyes now, and it feels a lot like being given the brush off. I decide to ignore it.
“So, like, what caused it? Do they know?”
This causes him to look at me, an almost playful raise of his eyebrow.
“Shut up,” I laugh. “I mean, okay, I’m fucking incredible, best ass in town— whatever town I’m in—but I’ve never caused anyone a heart attack before. Not that I know of.”
He looks like he’s going to say something else, before I see his thought path change direction. “It was a temporary narrowing of an artery, nothing too serious.”
“Sounds kinda serious to me.”
He says, “You were very calm, if you hadn’t been, things might have been different. Thank you, Thomas.”
I shrug. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Then it hits me, like a fist to the face. “Wh-how did you find that out?”
He waits.
“I mean, it’s not a secret. Not really,” I say quickly. “It’s just not a name I use anymore. Well, my sister still uses it, mainly when she’s pissed at me, which is mainly all the time. Asher’s my middle name. I wasn’t lying to you or anything.”
He nods, expression totally unreadable. There’s a horrible, uneasy feeling in my gut.
“What else did you find out?” I ask, tentatively. I knew he’d find out eventually; he only needed to do a fucking Google search of my name, and he’d know about the porn. It’s just… I wanted to be the one to tell him.
“Is there something else you think I should know?” It’s said with an undercurrent of something; he knows. Fuck.
I let out a breath and close my eyes for a second, complicated feelings moving through me. I’m not ashamed of it, but I’m ashamed of acting like I was and keeping it from him.
I meet his eye. “Yeah, that I make porn for a living.”
There’s no surprise whatsoever on his face. He says, “I thought you were an artist for a living.”
“I mean, I am. I want to be, it’s the plan. But I do this too for right now.”
He nods a few times, seemingly lost for words.
I look down at the scar on my palm and rub the pad of my finger over it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to.
I know that sounds like a line, but I was.
It just… never seemed like a good time. And it seemed like you were always just a single word or touch away from bolting, and I didn’t want to scare you off. ”
“Scare me off?”
“Yeah. And like, to be clear, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of it.
And I’m not looking to be ‘saved’ from it, either.
I actually love it. I love what I do. It saved my life, and it keeps me alive every fucking day.
I know that it’s so removed from the sort of work you do that you can’t comprehend how vital it is to people like me, but it is. It’s valid and it’s important.”
There’s a soft crease between his eyebrows now. “Thomas, I can assure you that I don’t have the sorts of feelings about it that you think I do.”
“Can you not with the Thomas? There’s a reason I don’t use that name anymore.” It’s not entirely true, I do use that name, sometimes, but I don’t like how or why he’s using it right now.
“Of course, Asher,” he says. “I was surprised, that’s all. In fact, when my CIA liaison told me last night, I thought I was about to have a second heart attack.” There’s a playful smile on his mouth now. I find myself mirroring it.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
There are a few moments of silence before he says, “You know, I think you could find a lot of people who consider what you do to be far more important than what I do.”
“Maybe not as a human rights lawyer but definitely now.”
He smiles a full smile at this. “For the record, I also believe sex work to be valid. I have, in the past, advocated for the rights of sex workers. I understand how much of a lifeline it can be for people, Asher. There’s no judgement here from me, I promise you.”
Of course he’s fucking perfect. Of course he gets this to a degree I never even gave him credit for.
“But Christ, you’re a bloody porn star,” he says, with something like awe.
“Technically, I’m an adult content creator.”
“I’m sorry, is porn star not the correct term? Is it offensive?”
I shrug, shaking my head a little. “Not offensive, no. I don’t mind it, though I know some people don’t like it. Since my stuff is mainly self-produced, the content creator descriptor just fits better.”
“Noted.”
“I am sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t cool.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Asher. We’d just met. I’d have preferred not to have been blindsided with it on my deathbed, but what you choose to share with me is your own choice.”
“Yeah, I know, but I dumped all the religious family shit on you and then didn’t tell you this? It feels… skeezy. I just… didn’t want you to run.”
“Skeezy?” he repeats.
I roll my eyes. “I always forget you’re a dad. It means shady. Kinda sleazy.”
“Ah, I see. Ironic since those are words I associate with myself when it comes to you.”
Ouch. I feel that in my gut.
“What? Why?” He gives me a look, one I’m meant to understand the meaning of, I guess, but I don’t.
“Our age difference, for a start. Surely you can see what it looks like?”
“Who gives a shit about what it looks like?”
“A lot of people, Asher.”
I shift forward, careful as I reach out and take hold of his hand so as not to disturb the needle that is attached to the drip by his head. He doesn’t pull away, which feels like a win.
“Okay then, who cares what they think?”
“It’s not as easy as all that, not for me.”
“I get that, I do, but do you like being with me?”
“When you’re not trying to kill me, yes, I do.”
I grin. “Wait, do I need a lawyer? Is there an attempted murder charge being filed somewhere?”
He laughs, eyes rounding with affection as he tightens his hold on my hand.
“No. No, you don’t need a lawyer. But I do wonder if this was the universe trying to tell me something.” He shifts a little sideways and brings his hand up to stroke it down my cheek. I feel the goosebumps all the way to my toes. “That perhaps I’m too old for this sort of nonsense.”
“Bullshit. The universe doesn’t give out signs. God either. Trust me, I waited a long time for one, and I basically lived in his house. I think I do believe in fate, though. And I believe you were meant to be in that bookshop that day pondering over whether to buy A Little Life.”
Seeing that porn scene all those years ago on that kid’s phone, that had been fate, too.
All of it breadcrumbs, leading me to somewhere I could be free and live my truth and maybe even be loved for it.
Maybe Christian needs some fucking breadcrumbs.
Maybe I’m just a breadcrumb for him. I’d be okay with that, I think.
I like being around him, I like him, I wanna spend time with him.
Now I want to make sure he’s healthy and doing okay—now I’m invested.
I’m about to launch into something deep and meaningful about breadcrumbs and fate when the door opens, a presence rushing frantically into the room.
A fit, good-looking blond guy comes towards us.
“Leo,” Christian exclaims, retracting both hands quick as a flash.
“Dad, fucking hell,” the blond says as he goes toward the bed and throws his arms around Christian. “You’re okay,” he mutters, clearly emotional.
Christian, for his part, looks a little taken aback, but pats his son on the back a few times. “I’m alright, son. I’m alright.”
I slide all the way back in my chair, wondering if I should slip out while they do this. But then the blond, Leo, is untangling himself from Christian and turning a very studied look on me.
He says, “You must be my ‘brother’ then?”