Chapter 13
Boris
I'm not sure, but I think Simon is avoiding me.
Saturday was great, but yesterday I didn't see him at all.
I watched the house the entire day, but unless they snuck out through the back door, I don't think they left it.
Though they must have, because I went knocking and no one opened.
I couldn't hear a single sound from within, and one person might have fooled me, maybe, but not two.
Especially not when one of them is a child.
I saw them this morning, hurrying out into the car at the normal time.
Monday morning. I wanted to run over there, wanted to hug Simon and tell him whatever happens today, things will be fine, but I didn't. He was pale and his motions jerky.
I don't think my rushing over there would've helped the situation.
I go to the garage and pretend to tinker with my bike, but other than tightening a few bolts, I do nothing. I watch the house and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Should I cook something?
If Simon has a bad day, he most likely won't want to cook when he gets back.
I'm in the middle of mentally going through what I have in my fridge and freezer when Simon's car comes rolling down the street. Fuck, it's not even lunch yet.
I'm moving before I can consider if he'll want to see me or not. The moment his car stops in his driveway, I yank open the passenger door, pull out Ira's booster seat, and put it on the ground before climbing in and closing the door.
He stares at me but doesn't say a word.
"You're home."
He flinches, but the next moment tears fill his eyes.
"Oh, baby." I pull him into my arms across the center console. It's not comfortable, but I don't care. I hug him tightly and rub his back. "What did they say?"
He swallows, then untangles himself from my embrace. Tears are still brimming in his eyes but not trickling over. "They...eh..." He clears his throat. "Called us in one by one. Immediate termination."
I nod, not sure what he needs to hear right now.
"I've worked there for six years. Five fucking days a week."
I take his hand in mine and caress him with my thumb. "It'll be okay."
He shakes his head.
"Yes, it will."
"Most men my age has a career, a plan, a destination. I have nothing."
"Hey, not true. Not everyone wants a career, some people simply want a job that pays enough for them to cover their bills. It's okay not to want to make partner in some firm or whatever it is you're picturing."
He gives me a crooked smile. "It's what I always thought I'd do.
" He shakes his head. "Children never featured in my plan.
I imagined I'd find a good job and climb from there, have a nice apartment in a city, and go on vacations to Paris or whatnot.
Then Irene got sick, and I..." He looks straight into my eyes.
"I love Ira. I'd die for Ira, but this is not how I pictured my life. "
I nod. "It's okay. Plans, goals, dreams, they all change. We adjust."
He presses his lips together, and I want to beg him to stop. It looks painful. "We grew up religious."
I widen my eyes, not sure where he's going with this. Should I take him to church? Which religion is it where you go to confession? Maybe he wants to go into one of those booths and talk to...a priest? A pastor? A monk? No, not monks, right?
"Not your garden-variety religion. My parents are fanatics, cultists. They pick what they want from the Bible and ignore the rest. They live in a small village on the east coast, and I'd say at least ninety percent of the inhabitants are part of the...church."
"Oh." Shit.
He shakes his head and gives me a ghost of a smile. "It was our norm when growing up. I was taught I was going to have a wife and children, and Irene was taught to be what her future husband wanted her to be. Conditioning, though we didn't see it then."
"You were children."
He nods. "Yeah. I remember thinking it was unfair how Irene would have to do a lot of chores while I didn't have to do much at all, but I was told my job was to provide for my family, and since I was a child, I didn't have a job, so I didn't have to do much other than help Dad with manly projects."
I want to laugh, but I don't know if it's the right thing to do, so I nod instead.
"Then I hit puberty." He grimaces. "And the idea of a wife was...not appealing. Jeremy Carrell from across the street, though. I wanted his hands all over me."
"Ah...and your parents don't believe in marriage equality."
He snorts. "They're conversion camp kind of people on a good day, rid the world of the blight on a bad.
And while I was struggling with my revelation of being gay, Irene had a hard time understanding why she had to follow a lot of made-up rules while the boys her age could do what they wanted and never got blamed for anything.
When we were eighteen and sixteen, we ran. "
I jerk. "You ran?" I picture leaving the pack at that age and rub my chest over my aching heart. Shit, I can't imagine leaving them now at thirty-one.
"We had a few rough years, but we found jobs, got a crappy apartment, saved every penny we could, and went to night school.
We made it, had a few years where everything went our way.
" He takes a deep breath. "Then she got pregnant, and a few weeks later she found the lump.
" He looks into my eyes. "She begged me to adopt Ira.
We still hoped she'd make it, of course, but I think she feared our parents getting Ira more than she feared death itself.
I couldn't say no. I wouldn't want to. Never.
But I didn't ever imagine being anything other than an uncle. "
"Oh, honey." I want to hug him again, but he's staring at the garage door without seeing it.
"How am I going to take care of him now?"
I don't care if he wants a hug or not, I pull him toward me again. "You'll take care of him the way you always do."
"Christmas is coming. I can hardly pay my bills.
Don't know how I'll pay them next month, and I haven't bought a single present, and with no income I won't..." I kiss his temple when his voice drifts off.
He jerks and stares at me. "What are you--" I cut him off by slanting my lips over his, but he pulls back.
"Boris."
"I know, you're not ready, but I'm here for you. I will always be here for you. I know you don't believe it. I know you think you don't know me, but we're meant to be, and one day soon, you'll realize it."
His eyes are wide, and he looks as if he's contemplating running away from me.
Maybe I went too far. Shit, I did, didn't I? Damn. I need a distraction.
"Come on, let's go inside. I'll make you a cup of..." I narrow my eyes. "Are you a tea drinker? I know Zahrah will claim this is a tea situation, not a coffee situation, but she's insane. Whatever you do, don't listen to her."
There is a small tug at the corner of his mouth. "I believed she was your best friend in the whole wide world."
"She is, but it doesn't mean she's sane."
He studies me. "Your mother, she never had any problems with you...kissing guys?"
I snort. "One day soon, you'll meet my mother, and she'll love you. You saw my family at the cafe. Did they look like they care?"
"We only had coffee, no one there will think we're--"
I laugh. "Everyone knows you're mine, make no mistake. Why do you think they came to introduce themselves? If they'd believed you were a one-night stand, they wouldn't have bothered."
The moment the words are out, I know they're the wrong thing to say, so I hurry on. "Come on! The tea is inside!" I open the car door. "When is it time to get Ira?"
All Simon does is stare at me. He makes no effort to move.
I grab the booster seat and put it back on the passenger seat. "Come on, Simon. I'd hate to have to break into your house."
His eyebrows shoot up, and he reaches for the door. Yes! Success.
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