Chapter 26
ACES
Signal Processing was Oscar’s only B, but he didn’t much care right now about the A’s blinking at him on the digital report card he’d received from his university. His phone screen blinked to black as it locked, his other hand firmly grasping Aaron’s.
Oscar rubbed the golden band Aaron had only taken off twice since he’d put it there a fortnight earlier.
Aaron’s fingernails were painted black now, Tobe’s work from when Aaron had invited them and Marta over to tell them about the scans and the tests and the suspicions.
Oscar had never witnessed a hug as long as the one Aaron and Tobe shared.
Nor had he ever been so glad to watch another person be so deeply loved.
Joe and Anna had been told at their apartment in the middle of a supposed movie night. Joe hadn’t been able to hold back his tears. When he and Oscar eventually went out to get food, he’d pulled him aside and wrapped him up in one of his gymbro bear hugs.
“You’ll be fine, Oz,” he’d said. “Both of you. No matter what, you’re not in it alone.”
They hadn’t told them about being engaged yet. Aaron had said he wanted to wait for the results first, that he didn’t want to stain their happy news with fear. Oscar hadn’t argued.
He’d had his own quiet spiral with Grandma and Lina. Although Aaron had been to Grandma’s for dinner several times since Christmas, he’d insisted Oscar go alone this time. Aaron had taken a bus to see Gemma at the care home, and Oscar had found his way to his own family.
His spaghetti and hot dogs had tasted like tears, no matter how much parmesan Grandma kept piling on top, and after, the three of them had huddled up on Grandma’s couch and watched The Princess Diaries.
Grandma had seen fit to say that if she’d ever consider dating a woman, it would have to be Julie Andrews, specifically in her role as Queen Clarisse, and it had made Oscar laugh.
“I like Anne Hathaway,” he’d said, “but in The Devil Wears Prada.” So they’d watched that next, and Grandma had said Meryl Streep wasn’t half bad to look at either.
“Are you sure you’re not bisexual, Grandma?” Oscar had asked.
“Who knows?” Grandma had replied. “I only ever had true eyes for your grandfather, Spike.”
Oscar had fallen asleep on her couch, all cried out, but Lina had woken him up to take him home, insisting he’d want to get back to Aaron for the night.
They’d stayed out in her truck for a long time.
Oscar told her about their mother but not about the ring.
Lina cried a little. It must be hard to watch your entire family fall apart again and again because of a sibling you dearly loved, but maybe it was a good thing that Papa had whispered to them about sticking with each other on those long drives to and from the beach.
In this, he lived on, too.
In the hospital now, Aaron’s hand twitched in Oscar’s, alerting him to the fact that a nurse had called him in.
They rose to their feet a second later, hesitating in front of their chairs.
They were so blue, so clinical, so cold.
This wasn’t the gender clinic any longer.
There was no orange here and no softness, and if the doctor cut into them, he wouldn’t be giving them a new lease on life.
Not this time.
“I’m going to be okay, right?” Aaron mumbled. When their eyes met, it was not ocean or sky that Oscar saw, but a map of his future, each coming day pinned to Aaron’s cheeks, a tapestry of moments.
“You’re going to be just fine, boo,” Oscar replied.
He leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. Oscar couldn’t imagine Aaron not being the same as he was now, but he could imagine loving him in every version of their unfolding story, in every version of who he was and who he might become. “Let’s go in, then.”
The walk to the doctor’s office hammered terror into every part of Oscar, his every nerve ending open and alive, waiting for the axe to sever his pulsing aching mind from the rest of his body.
But to Aaron, he gave a smile, a strong and steady grip, a promise that he would be for him what Aaron had given him since the moment they’d met: hope.
“Aaron, come in!” The doctor’s round ruddy face lit up when he saw him.
Despite the circumstance, Oscar liked this man.
He’d done everything he could to get Aaron all the necessary appointments scheduled as soon as possible, and although it had taken a longer time than either of them would have liked to be called in for these results, Oscar knew there was no helping that.
Dr. Andrews had explained that several specialists would have to be consulted to make such a diagnosis, that it was safer than any other option, and Aaron had agreed.
“How are you feeling? How has your mood been?” he asked.
“Not bad.” Aaron cleared his throat, sitting on his usual chair and relegating Oscar to the other. “I’ve been calm, but my mood hasn’t been great.”
“It’s natural when you’re waiting for these kinds of results, but I’m glad you’ve been calm. Before I can give you the official answer, I do have some questions to ask you, just to tick a few boxes and make sure I’m on the right track here.”
The doctor tapped his fingers on the cardboard file that sat in front of him. Oscar had the urge to rip it from underneath his hands, to open it and read the verdict. This felt like a chopping block, and Oscar wanted to be done with it.
But Aaron nodded, his hand leaving Oscar’s grip and sliding instead down his thigh, rubbing the thick fabric of his blue jeans. Oscar had worn these to the clinic that day. They’d brought him such luck.
“Have you been under any stress recently?” the doctor asked. “Beyond what’s normal. Do you recall anything new, anything that you’ve had to get used to? Maybe some changes in your life. Details you might have forgotten to mention while we were testing.”
“Good changes,” Aaron replied. The tip of his tongue slid out, wetting his lips as he frowned. Oscar wanted to smooth the lines on the bridge of his nose, to take off his glasses and kiss him on the crease.
“Nothing negative?” The doctor pursed his lips.
“Work,” Oscar murmured as Aaron began to shake his head.
“Right.” Aaron’s frown dropped. “Yes. I…a few months ago, I lost a source of steady income. I do temp work, mostly, and in September, I was let go.”
“How did that affect you? Have you been worried about it?” Dr. Andrews played with a blue ballpoint pen that reminded Oscar of exams, of the results he’d just received and couldn’t care less about.
“I’ve managed to find a bit of casual work here and there recently,” Aaron explained. “But, yes, of course.”
“Did it impact your ability to eat and take care of yourself on a day-to-day basis?” The doctor stopped spinning his pen, setting it down on the file.
He tilted his head low, blue eyes glimmering over the thick rimless lenses of his glasses.
Oscar glanced at Aaron, marked his pink cheeks.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Aaron.
We’ve all had circumstances that we didn’t like. ”
“I’ve actually had a lot of support, though,” Aaron said. “My roommates only charged me what I could afford for rent, and my top surgery was paid in full, so I didn’t have debts to settle. And then I moved in with my fiancé.”
The word sent a ripple of warmth through Oscar, like oozing caramel after the first bite of a Snickers bar.
It had been Papa’s favorite chocolate. Oscar had only ever seen him have it at Grandma’s.
He hadn’t understood back then how much it cost to keep a house running, to take care of a child always about to break and make the other one feel seen.
He hadn’t understood that when you loved someone, you’d gladly scrape the soles of your feet on coals to make sure they had a spare pair of sandals.
“Are congratulations in order, then?” Dr. Andrews smiled at each of them.
“That depends,” Aaron replied, shrugging. “But, yes, I’ve had a lot of support. I’m very grateful.”
It should have blanketed Oscar, but he didn’t like it on Aaron’s mouth. Grateful for what? It was Oscar’s job to take care of him, Oscar’s job to be the pillar that held him up, to lie down on the ground and be the foundations of what they wanted to build together.
“You have nothing to be grateful for,” Oscar blurted out. He’d get wrinkles if he kept frowning like this all the time, but Oscar would know true gratefulness then, because Papa had never been allowed any. “I’m your partner. It isn’t charity.”
“Yes, but it isn’t fair.” Aaron drew in a shaky breath, tooth snagging on his lower lip as the truth came tumbling out.
“Oscar, I know we haven’t really talked about it much, but I don’t like depending on you for everything.
I don’t like watching you struggle between classes and working almost full-time hours to keep up with the electric, begging your friends for loans to pay my medical bills… ”
“It isn’t fair that you lost your income because I couldn’t hold it together for five minutes, either,” Oscar replied.
A foreign thing passed across Aaron’s eyes, tilting his head to the side as he jerked back.
“Have you been holding onto that all this time? Have you been carrying it?” Aaron asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“I will be carrying it forever,” Oscar said, eyes darting down to the folder, the only thing he could bear to look at, the one thing he wished didn’t even exist.
“Hey…” Aaron reached for Oscar’s hand, taking it. Swallowing was harder than existing in this moment, and Oscar had struggled his entire life with existence. “Spike.”
In the end, he didn’t need to swallow to find Aaron’s face. His boyfriend was smiling. Even in this ugly office with this ugly possibility looming before them, Aaron was smiling at him. His fiancé.
“What?” Oscar murmured.