Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
CONNOR
I’m sitting at the top of the stairs, getting all teary-eyed and choked up.
When Donnie lays it all out like that, I feel like such an ungrateful child.
And also, entirely vindicated at the same time.
He makes it sound so simple, so obvious, while Mom and I have been ruthlessly going at each other’s throats.
I need to cut Mom some slack, I think. I should let her in a little more, let her help a little more. I can’t keep coming to every encounter with my shields up and defenses primed. Not if I want our relationship to improve. And I do.
“Hey.”
I squawk and almost fall down the stairs. I’ve got one hand on the banister and the other on the step, heart somewhere up in the attic of the house. Donnie’s standing above me, holding two mugs and smirking.
“What are you doing?”
I right myself, comb my fingers through my hair, and tug my shirt straight. I clear my throat, still groggy from sleep. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? You weren’t eavesdropping?”
I drop my jaw and flop a hand over my chest. “I would never!”
“Hmm.” Donnie narrows his eyes. “I was on my way down to bring you coffee.”
I make gimme hands at him. “And I was meeting you halfway.” I take the mug he offers and hold it to my nose. Ah, the sweet scent of caffeine-laced sugar and milk. I take a sip and gaze over the rim of the cup at Donnie.
My breath catches in my chest at the way he’s watching me, like he’s studying every eyelash, the angle of my nose, the curve of my brow. Like he’s trying to soak in every inch of me because he can’t get enough. Like I’m the only thing he ever wants to look at for the rest of his life.
“Come here,” he says and I take the two steps up to meet him.
He pulls me into a kiss. Our lips fit together like they were made for each other. He tastes like bitter coffee but underneath it is the sweet familiarity of Donnie. Woodsy and citrusy and I want to crawl inside him and live there.
His tongue delves into my mouth, slow and sensual, deep and so fucking erotic. He kisses me like I’m oxygen, like I’m water, and he needs this kiss to live to the next minute. He kisses me like I’m his everything.
I’m coming apart at the seams from this kiss, falling to pieces as his tongue slips into every corner of my mouth and licks over every inch. I cling to Donnie, my knees weak, and my limbs liquid. My cock is harder that fucking steel.
“Ahem.”
Someone clears their throat behind me and I jump, spilling hot coffee all over my hand.
“Fuck!” I stick the burned spot into my mouth and glare at Dad who’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, like it’s a normal occurrence for him to stumble upon his son making out with his boyfriend at the top of the staircase.
I flush so hot, my cheeks burn. “Jesus, Dad. Way to sneak up on us.”
“Well, it is my house.”
“Sorry about that, Harold.” Donnie pulls me to the side so Dad can get into the kitchen. He smirks at me once Dad is out of the way.
“Ugh, god,” I groan.
Donnie gives me a peck on my cheek. “I need to go shower. I believe your mother is making French toast.”
Ooo, my favorite. “Hurry. Can’t promise there’ll be any left if you take too long.”
Donnie disappears down the stairs and I take a deep breath before joining my parents. Dad’s already sitting at his spot at the table, coffee in hand, with the news pulled up on his tablet. Mom drops a piece of egg-drenched toast into the pan and the sizzle makes my stomach growl.
They look so normal. Like the dinner wasn’t the most awkward thing ever last night. Like I didn’t have an argument with Mom afterward. Like she didn’t have the deepest heart-to-heart with my boyfriend this morning.
“Hey,” I say, wiping down my dripping mug and refilling it.
“Good morning, dear,” Mom says. “Do you mind setting the table, please? Your brother’s coming over for breakfast.”
Great. Love it when Brad shows up first thing in the morning.
Donnie’s quick in the shower and he makes it to the table as Mom piles on a full breakfast of eggs and bacon and sausage and French toast.
“This smells fantastic, Kathleen. Thank you so much.”
Mom beams and shoves an extra piece of sausage onto Donnie’s plate. His smile is polite, but I see the way it tightens on one side.
I lean over to whisper in his ear. “Would you rather your protein pancakes?”
Donnie shoots me a look that says “behave.” I shoot back another that says “make me.”
“So, Mom, Dad, you’ll be taking off soon, right?” Brad asks, stuffing his face with bacon.
“I don’t know why we can’t stay to help.” Mom’s already at the sink washing up before she’s even sat down to eat a bite.
“Because it’s your anniversary party. You can’t do any of the work.”
“I don’t see why not,” she mutters.
Brad ignores her. “Just go play your golf. Make sure you’re back here by one o’clock.”
“You don’t need us to help with anything, do you?” I pour an extra dollop of maple syrup on my toast, knowing Donnie isn’t going to let me anywhere near the stuff when we get home.
“No.” Brad doesn’t even look in my direction. “The party supplies people and the caterer will be here soon. They’re bringing their own staff.”
Good, because I have no intention of staying here and letting him boss me around. I grab Donnie the second breakfast is done and we’re out the door before Brad can change his mind.
“Where to?” Donnie asks as we buckle ourselves into the car.
“Um… there’s Forest Park?” I pull the directions up on Donnie’s phone and we head toward the large park kinda in the middle of the city.
It’s busy when we get there. The baseball diamonds are filled with kids in uniforms, their parents yelling from the sidelines.
People are out jogging or walking their dogs or having picnics on the grass.
Fluffy white clouds dot the sky and the sun is warm on our skin.
I take Donnie’s hand in mine and we meander our way through the park.
“Tell me about growing up here,” Donnie says as we step off the path to let a couple joggers pass.
I think back to high school, to my childhood, and not much stands out. Typical suburban upbringing in a typical suburban family. “It was pretty boring, to be honest.”
Donnie eyes me with an amused look. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“It’s true!” I laugh, feeling almost giddy with happiness.
Just being here, in the beautiful weather, with Donnie, it’s inconceivable that life can be anything other than perfect.
“My parents couldn’t drag me away from the TV.
I was in the AV club in high school. Did the sound for all our musical productions. Filmed them too.”
“You really are a film geek.” Donnie nudges me with his shoulder and I giggle—yep, full-on giggle.
“I had an early start.”
“Who was your first kiss?” he asks.
I groan. “Isaac Paulson in freshman year. At the back of the auditorium during rehearsals.”
“Ooo… in a dark theater. How dramatic.”
“Yeah, yeah. How about you?” I nudge him back with my shoulder.
“Susan McDonald at the neighborhood football pitch,” Donnie answers wistfully.
I gasp. “A girl!”
Donnie laughs and tries to shush me at the same time. “Don’t go ruining my gay cred now.”
He’s joking, I know, but I still glance around and spot a few people staring at us. They all avert their eyes when they realize I’ve caught them. One teenager flashes me a tiny smile before he turns back to his friends.
“When did you come out?” Donnie asks as we take the right fork and venture into a less populated area of the park.
“Summer before high school. My parents had already guessed, so…” I shrug. “I told my mom and she was like, ‘Cool, no boys allowed in your room.’ That was it.”
“Anticlimactic. It’s better that way.”
I suppose he’s right. Fourteen-year-old Connor had wanted more of a reaction. Not anything like what happened to Donnie of course. But a few stray tears wouldn’t have hurt either.
Looking back, homophobia had never really been a real fear for me.
My parents didn’t make a big deal out of it.
My school had a no-bullying policy that they were good about enforcing.
I wasn’t the only queer kid in my class either.
I’d never had to think about pretending to be someone I wasn’t, or worry about how other people were going to react when they found out.
I know Donnie’s story is exactly the opposite and a fit of righteous anger burns in me toward his parents. “Can you tell me how you came out? Only if you want to.”
Donnie’s hand tightens on mine and I drift a little bit closer to him as we walk.
“I’d just finished uni. There’d been a big public health campaign for gay men to get tested for HIV.
The ads were all over the city—you couldn’t miss them.
I’d gotten tested with some friends but then my dad found the results in my room. ”
My chest is tight, bracing for what’s coming next.
“I guess I could have said that straight men get HIV too, but there wasn’t any point. They wouldn’t have believed me. I never talked about girls, never brought a girl home to meet them. It was pretty obvious.”
I press a kiss to his shoulder and hug his arm to me.
“They told me to get out. I stayed with a mate for about six months. Got a job at a bank, got transferred to America, then I met Roger.” He smiles, nostalgic and a little melancholy.
There isn’t the same weight or dreariness that he used to have when he spoke about Roger or his family.
There hasn’t been since he visited Roger at the cemetery.
“And well, you know the rest.”
“You haven’t spoken to your family since then?
Donnie shrugs. “I have a few times. I sent them Christmas cards and birthday cards at first. But I never got any back. I called them when Roger and I were getting married. They were civil but they weren’t happy about it. They didn’t come to the wedding and I kind of gave up after that.”
Donnie’s conversation with Mom this morning echoes through my mind.
We might have a dysfunctional relationship, but at least we still have a relationship.
I can’t imagine never speaking with her again.
No more annoying texts from Brad? No more rambling lectures about things I don’t care about from Dad?
I feel a little panicked at the mere possibility.
“Roger and I made our own family. Phyllis and Leonard were wonderful to me and we had a lot of friends. We were always hosting parties at the house for birthdays, when someone got promoted or started dating someone new. Basically, any excuse we could find to throw a party.” Donnie’s smile fades.
“I haven’t been very good at keeping in touch with them. ”
There are a lot of people in all those photos Donnie has around the house. But other than the guys from Mars, I’ve never heard him talk about other friends. “Why not?”
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “It was hard at first. Everyone was tiptoeing around me all the time, asking if I was okay, if there was anything they could do. I know they meant well, but… I wasn’t okay, there wasn’t anything they could do, and I got so tired of them asking.
I stopped going out when they invited me and eventually, they stopped inviting me. ”
My heart aches for Donnie. I wish I’d known him back then, that I could’ve been there to help him through it. I would’ve just held him, let him cry, let him rage, whatever he needed to do.
“And now? Would you want to reconnect with them?”
Donnie drops his gaze to the asphalt under our feet. “I should.”
“But?”
He shakes his head. “But nothing. I have no excuse other than… it’s a little awkward, that’s all.”
An idea pops into my head. I think I saw Donnie’s birth date marked on one of the cards in Roger’s office. It’s soon—in a few weeks. Any excuse to throw a party, right? If this isn’t the perfect way to help Donnie get in touch with his old friends again, I don’t know what is.