22. Chapter Twenty-Two
I spend all of Monday morning and most of the afternoon in bed, sleeping on and off. Tossing and turning. Driving myself absolutely crazy because my head won’t stop thinking about this stuff with Cole and Chris. So I force myself to keep sleeping even though I’m not tired, but at least when I’m sleeping I can’t overthink this shit.
When I get out of bed around two, the house is quiet since both Chris and Cole are at work. I can’t begin to explain how stupid I feel. Yet all of that is mixed with how upset I am over pissing off Cole. Not only pissing him off but disappointing him. I’ve thought about it too many times, and Cole isn’t mad I stopped him. I know him well enough to know he isn’t like that. This isn’t about me turning him down for sex. It’s something more. Something else. It was stupid of me to attempt anything with him while he was hurting so badly. He was vulnerable and instead of being the bigger person; I swooped in like a desperate whore.
I want to send him an apology text, but I’m too embarrassed. So instead, I do what I should have done last night, and text Chris.
Obviously my focus has been on the wrong person the entire time I’ve been here. Cole isn’t the one I need to worry about. It’s Chris. He’s been going through something for a while, which I’ve known since day one. Yet all I’ve done is stress about his father. What kind of friend am I? Chris let me stay here when I had nowhere else to go. He’s been there for me my whole life. I can’t ruin this relationship with him.
I text him to ask if he’s okay, and stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. When I don’t get a response after a few minutes, I head downstairs to eat something. I’m not surprised when I find two plates made up with breakfast. One for me. One for Chris. But, out of spite, Chris didn’t eat the food Cole made for him.
Mealtimes have always been important to Cole, and Chris is well aware that it pisses Cole off when he ignores them. Especially when he goes out of his way to make him a plate. More than once I’ve found untouched food that was made for Chris. When Cole gets home, he cleans it up without a word.
But today, I clean up Chris’s plate because the less there is to make Cole feel bad, the better.
I eat my food and wash the dishes. I do some laundry and go around the house looking for things to clean because I need to do something. But no matter how much I get done, I can’t shake the feeling of being an asshole.
When the front door opens, I hold my breath, unsure of who will step through the door. When Chris walks in, I’m relieved.
“Hey,” I call from the living room. “I texted you earlier.”
“Phone’s dead,” he grunts, making his way into the room and sitting on the couch beside me. His head falls back, and he closes his eyes.
“I was hoping we could go grab dinner? My treat.”
He huffs out a laugh, rolling his head to look at me. “You’re broke.”
I’ll try not to be offended by that…
“I have money in the bank.”
It isn’t a lot, but there is some there.
“Not enough to be buying me dinner. We can go, but I’m paying for it.”
“I can afford dinner,” I argue.
He slaps me on the leg and gets up. “Don’t argue with me, Bry. Let’s go. I’m starving.”
I turn off the TV and get to my feet. We head for the front door, but before Chris can open it, Cole walks in. He stops, his wide-eyed gaze going from Chris to me, and back to Chris again.
I feel like a deer in headlights as I stand here wondering what’s going to happen. It’s like a standoff and I feel like we’ve been here for far too long. Who will draw their gun first?
Finally, Chris makes the first move and shoves by his father, who bows his head and sighs. He steps inside, completely ignoring me, so I head outside and ignore the sting that created.
This isn’t about me.
He and his son are fighting. His son is more important. Obviously. The car is already started when I get into it, and Chris peels out of the driveway. I want to talk to him, to figure out what the hell is going on, but I know Chris well enough to know he isn’t going to talk about it. So, as hard as it is, I keep my mouth shut. He hops on the highway and takes an exit into the city a town over that has much better food options. He stops at a burger place, and we get out.
Once we’re seated inside, with food and drinks ordered, I finally say something. Because if I don’t, I think I’ll explode.
“How was work today?”
He shrugs, his melancholy mood not shifting to anything better. But at least he answers.
“Mondays suck. It’s like everyone hates being there, even though as far as I know, everyone really loves their jobs.”
“That’s how it goes, right? Mondays are the worst. It was the same in school.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“So, what exactly do you do there?”
Why do I feel like I have to force conversation? It never used to be like this for us.
“Bitch work. Mostly running reports and testing software. It’s boring as hell sometimes, but totally worth it.” Our drinks come and Chris reaches for his rum and cola, while I grab my water. “How about you? Did you find a job yet?”
I watch him suck down half the drink before answering. “Nothing outside of painting the studio.”
“You should consider doing tattoos. You’d be so good at it.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious, Bryson. Tattoo artists make bank. Especially the good ones, and you are good.”
I can agree that I’m a good artist. My work is one of the only things I’m ever proud of. But putting something permanent on someone’s skin? That’d give me way too much anxiety.
“No way. Painting on walls and drawing on paper is one thing. Putting something on someone’s skin that can never come off? That’s too stressful.”
“You really need to stop thinking so badly about yourself.” My jaw drops. Chris never scolds me like this. He always makes a joke or just ignores it. “Your artwork is amazing. Always has been. Sure, tattooing is different and new, but that’s why you get an apprenticeship. So you can learn. It’s not like they throw you to the wolves. Pretty sure you have to apprentice for a few years before they let you take clients on your own.”
I ignore his aggressive tone and keep the conversation going.
He had a rough night and a rough day. He’s tired and hungry.
“Okay, then that’s a few years of working without pay.”
“So get a day job. Do you have anything else to do?” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from snapping back at him. Chris is the only person I’ve ever fought with. Outside of my father, of course. Typically I shut my mouth and turn the other way, avoiding any situation that could become confrontational. But me and Chris have had a lot of arguments over the years because I’m comfortable speaking my mind with him. He continues, adding insult to injury. “I know your dad is an asshole, and he fucked you up, but damn, Bry. You’ve been away from him for years now, and you still act like he’s talking shit to you every day.”
I blink. Then blink again. I want to tell him to fuck off. That he has no idea what he’s talking about, and how dare he say something like that to me when he’s being a complete dickhead to his father.
But of course, I don’t.
“It’s not easy to forget all the shit he said to me, Chris. It doesn’t work that way. And I was just with him for the last six months. You think that doesn’t bring all the insecurities I thought I fixed right back? You have good memories of your father. I have fucking nightmares.”
He scoffs, grabbing his drink. “Memories of my father aren’t all that great.”
“Are you joking?” I snap. He frowns at me, and I know he’s going to say something harsh, so I keep going. “Did you forget how long I was with you growing up? Did you forget that I was there a lot of the time too? Did Cole only be an asshole when I wasn’t around, Chris? Because for quite a few years, we grew up with the same man. One who wasn’t a dick.”
His gaze goes from shocked to furious to something akin to thoughtful. He’s either thinking about what I said and trying to understand it, or he’s trying to calm himself down so he doesn’t punch me.
“You don’t know him like I do,” is all he says, reaching for his drink.
“Enlighten me. Tell me what the hell is going on with you two.”
He looks away, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. I give him some time to figure out what he wants to say, but we’re having this conversation. Seconds turn into minutes, and he hasn’t said a word.
“Christopher,” I urge. “I’m your best friend, always have been, and honestly, I’m offended that I don’t already know about this. No, not offended. I’m pissed and hurt. I’ve always shared everything with you. Everything. We’ve always been open with one another. What the hell happened?”
His jaw works, still not looking at me. I can’t read his expression. Have no idea if he’s angry at me for speaking my mind. Pissed that I called him out. Or trying to stop himself from crying.
But then he blurts it out, and it isn’t anything like I was expecting.
“I found out why my parents split up, and it wasn’t my mother’s fault, like I was led to believe.”
He’s mad at his father over a divorce that took place over ten years ago? This is what he’s throwing a fit about? Why he’s been drinking so much and barely speaking to his father? Over a fucking divorce? Something that has nothing to do with him?
“What exactly does that mean?”
He runs a hand down his face and finishes his drink.
“You know my mother left. She said her and my father had differences they couldn’t work through, so she just left. I chose to stay with my dad because of school and also, he and I got along better than I did with my mom. And of course, you.”
“So what really happened then?”
I find myself anxious to hear the answer. What could Cole have done to fuck up his marriage? It’s hard to think he’d do anything to mess it up, but who knows? It was a long time ago.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud,” Chris mutters, shaking his head. He huffs and adds, “He cheated on my mother—”
“What?”
“—with a guy.”
My breath catches in my throat. I blink a few times, wondering if I heard that right.
Cole cheated on Tabitha with a man?
“Hold on. What?” I say, leaning forward on the table. Chris nods like he can’t believe it either. “How long have you known?”
“About a year.”
This is a lot. Even for me. I can’t say that I’m angry over this. I have no business being angry over what goes on in someone else’s relationship, but I’m certainly surprised.
“How did you find out?” I ask carefully.
“Mark’s bandmate? It was his father. Apparently, their parents got a divorce over it too.”
I’m about to ask him which band mate, but then all the pieces fly together, forming the image right in front of my eyes.
Tomas said his brother was in the band with Mark.
Tomas got upset when he found out I was staying at Cole’s.
He didn’t seem weird about Chris, just about Cole.
Cole cheated on Tabitha with Tomas’s father.
Clearly Tomas and Chris both know this. Chris has been up in arms about it. Is that why Tomas isn’t pissed at Chris too? Is Tomas judging me and assuming I’m sleeping with Cole just because I’m gay and Cole is, I don’t know—into men?
I’m not one to judge and make accusations. I don’t know what Tomas is thinking about any of this, and it isn’t fair of me to assume he’s being a judgmental asshole, but hey, I’m an over-thinker. And because of that, something else hits me. Something I cannot ignore about this conversation with Chris.
“Are you mad about your father cheating on your mother or about him being with a guy?”
Chris whips his head toward me. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
There’s a wave of defensiveness coursing through me, and I don’t know why. Something in my gut tells me Chris wouldn’t be so pissed if he found out Cole cheated on his mother with a woman. Or who knows? Maybe he would. But this is a small town, and word gets around. I don’t doubt people would look down on the Harpers and the other family because of it. They can turn their eye to a husband cheating on his wife with another woman, but a man? Scandalous! Fuck this town. It’s why I struggled with coming out for so many years. My father isn’t the only one in this place with a shit attitude.
I don’t answer Chris, but I hold his gaze—and my breath.
Chris won’t be honest with me if he’s mad about his father cheating with a man. There is no way he would say something so stupid. Which is why I’m glaring at him, hoping that if he is lying, I’ll be able to tell. Chris always accepted me for being gay, but you can’t choose to accept one person and not all.
“I’m mad about him cheating at all.” He says the words, but deep down, I don’t believe him. Something is telling me he isn’t being truthful. That he’s more pissed about this being with a guy. I feel it to my very bones.
“So it has nothing to do with it being with a man?” I ask, proud that my voice doesn’t tremble or crack.
Chris holds my gaze, and his shoulders sag. “Maybe a little,” he says, but then quickly adds, “But not because of the gay thing! You know I don’t care about that.”
“Then what?” I ask. It’s taking everything in me to keep my cool. I didn’t expect Chris to admit that to me. I’m pissed. Furious. I want an answer like ten minutes ago.
The waiter brings our food, says he’ll get Chris another drink, and asks if we need anything else. Chris mumbles a “No, thanks,” while I ignore him completely. Neither of us touches our food as I wait for him to answer.
“It’s everything that came with it.”
“Because it was a guy,” I add. Does he not realize what he’s saying? How does he not realize what he’s saying?
“No!” he barks. He sighs, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “No. I don’t care about him wanting to be with a man.”
“You just care that people found out it was with a man and are pissed about it. How is that different?”
His eyes are wide, slightly frantic. I can see he doesn’t want to upset me and he’s not trying to be an asshole, just trying to explain. But how can I not be offended by this?
We fall quiet again. I’m shaking. Chris is trying to figure out what he wants to say. He better figure it out soon before I get up and walk out.
The waiter drops off Chris’s drink, and he grabs it to take a long sip.
He places his palms on the table and looks me right in the eye.
“Bryson, I don’t have an issue with anyone’s sexual orientation. And to be honest, I haven’t taken the time to figure out why I’m so mad about this, so I’m sorry if I’m coming across as a dick. But I don’t mean to. Maybe it’s not because he’s a guy, but rather who he is. Had it been a lesser-known guy, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But I’ll never know. All I know is I’m furious over finding all of this out.”
I look away, staring at the TV above the bar. There are reruns of a hockey game. Never been interested in hockey and I’m not into it now either. But I need a minor distraction. Something that’ll allow me a minute to calm down.
Chris has never done anything to me, or anyone else, to make me think he’s being dishonest. Maybe I need to give him the benefit of the doubt. He admitted he hasn’t taken time to think about this. All he’s done is ignore his father and drink a shit ton. Maybe he really doesn’t know why he’s so mad about this and needs to figure that out. Me harping on him isn’t going to help.
“Does Cole know this is what you’re pissed about?”
He shakes his head. I already knew the answer, but I don’t want Chris to know that Cole and I have talked about this.
“Then it obviously didn’t get big enough, Chris. And honestly, I’m offended you’re pissed about this at all. I can understand you being upset with your father for cheating on your mother, but who it’s with shouldn’t matter. I mean, maybe if it was her sister, then yeah, that’s shitty because it’s family, but other than that?” I scoff, shaking my head.
Chris bows his head, refusing to look at me. I watch him for a moment before I start eating. I’m not hungry, but it’s here, and it smells good. We don’t say another word to each other. When the waiter returns, Chris orders another drink. We finish eating our food; I make sure to pay for the bill, and he drives me home. All without saying a word.
When we pull up at the house, he doesn’t shut the car off. I look at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing now.
“I’m going out. Figured you didn’t wanna come,” he says quietly. Shamefully. Like he knows I’m not going to approve. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he’s still going to do it.
“So you’re not going to talk to Cole? I thought that’s what you were mulling over this whole time.”
He shakes his head absently, staring out the front windshield. “I will. Eventually.”
I open the car door, but before I get out, I say, “Talking to him drunk won’t go well for either of you. And drinking every day? All that’s going to do is make you feel shittier than you already do.”
I get out without another word.