Chapter 10 #2
“For a long time, she was angry that I laid that on him when he was sick—and maybe that was bad form on my part—but I couldn’t hold back any longer.
He needed to die knowing that no matter how much homophobic nonsense he’d spewed, I still ended up gay.
” Cary let out a long, slow breath. “But she and I are good now, for the most part. She still occasionally brings up grandchildren and her lack thereof, and I have to remind her that isn’t happening. But otherwise, we’re okay.”
“There’s always adoption one day,” Foster said. “If you met the right guy.”
Cary frowned. “I’m not the right guy. I was never taught how to be a good dad. Plus, as you’ve said, I work in a pretty dangerous vocation, so there’s two big black marks on my daddy score card.” Cary waved the bartender down and held up two fingers. “Do your parents know?”
“I haven’t said anything, but as many rumors have been going around since I got back, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d heard something.” Foster closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “If they have, they’ve done a fantastic job of hiding it.”
“If they’re hiding it, that might mean they’ll be accepting,” Cary said. “If my dad had gotten wind, he would’ve confronted me and demanded I leave his house.”
“Or they’re in denial, waiting to hear it from me before they lose their shit.”
“Could be.” Cary jumped up and walked over to collect their beers before returning. He slid one in front of Foster.
“Thanks.” Foster looked down. When had he finished his first? He pushed the glass away and took a long drink of a good cold one.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to know, though?” Cary asked. “To unburden yourself and live free? Not having to hide who you are? That was the best part of coming out for me. No more pretending who I was. Or wasn’t.”
“Given the fact I haven’t figured things out for myself, it’s kind of hard to tell them what I don’t know. My whole life is chaos right now.”
“You don’t have to get into details,” Cary said. “You can simply tell them you’re not straight.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
One of Cary’s brows rose almost to his hairline. “I think we have enough proof you’re not straight.”
Foster chuckled.
“You have a history of being attracted to men. Starting all the way back in high school,” Cary added. “This isn’t a new revelation, Foster.”
Foster’s smile faded. He hated being reminded of his worst moment ever. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not straight.”
Foster smiled to himself. Admitting it out loud did feel freeing.
“That felt good, didn’t it?” Cary said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It did.”
A few seconds passed as they sipped their beers.
“Where does he work?” Cary asked.
“Hmm?”
Cary scoffed. “Jude. Where does he work?”
“You live here, and you don’t know?”
Cary shrugged. “I’m mostly in and out. When I am home, I spend more time in the city than here most of the time. Honestly, I should probably sell my townhouse and buy a place somewhere in Manhattan. Mom’s really the only reason I maintain an address in Jersey.”
“Get a place in the city and you could host your own parties,” Foster said.
“Nah, I don’t do that close to home. At least, not parties like the one we went to. Work is nuts. My home is my sanctuary.” Cary tapped Foster’s knuckles. “Where’s he work?”
Foster sighed. “Gabriel’s Meats. A butcher shop, over on Elm.”
“If you’d like, I could go with you next time. Moral support and all.”
Foster shook his head. “I don’t need any more of an audience than I might already have.”
Maybe going to Jude’s place of business is a bad idea. In more ways than one.
“I might look around for his home address. Going somewhere filled with knives and a meat grinder where he dismembers living things wasn’t a great idea the first time. I should be glad they were closed the day I went.”
“If you need to do it, do it. You can’t keep dragging your feet.” Cary chuckled to himself before taking a sip of beer. “I saw your balls. They’re big enough for you to get the job done.”
Foster’s face warmed. “Can we not talk about my balls?”
“Not until I get bored of seeing you blush like a schoolgirl,” Cary said, grinning wickedly. “You are too uptight to be… never mind. You’re a closet case. Of course you’re uptight about sex.”
“It’s not that I’m uptight. It’s… that I don’t have much experience.”
Cary frowned. “You were married for a decade.”
“And we had infrequent bad sex that happened less often as the years passed,” Foster replied. “I spent more time with my dick in my hand than inside Ashley.”
“What about college?”
Foster chuckled. “There was an almost. Another guy on the practice squad with me. There were a couple of girls, but they were basically Ashley clones.”
“How you didn’t see it before you married her, I’ll never know,” Cary said. “That denial ran deep.”
Foster sighed. “Like you said, seeing what happened to Jude probably caused some of that.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
They sat at the bar for another hour or so, nursing another beer through most of it. It was comfortable talking with Cary. Maybe because he was the only one he could truly be himself with. Whoever the hell that was.
Hopefully, he’d figure it out soon. He was tired of living a lie.