19. Malcolm
Malcolm
I pull up in front of Bradley’s home, and I can’t help but be a little shocked.
I know he told me it was his grandmother's home, but it’s the picture I see every little girl imagining.
Two story Victorian, white picket fence, swing hanging from the tree in the front yard, with a gazebo off to the side.
It is perfect, and I can see why he’d want to live here.
Bradley didn’t want to give me his address at first. But after almost forty-five minutes of convincing him that it was insane for him to park his car in a parking garage the whole weekend, he relented.
Once he came to terms with me on that, he switched to paying for a ride.
Again, I debated with him that it was an unnecessary cost, and when he tried to tell me he’d just walk there with his luggage, I wanted to scream.
“ Bradley, you've been to my house already. I haven’t tied you up, stuck you in a hole, and rubbed lotion all over you. What makes you think that having your home address would make that happen now? ” I asked him.
Shifting the car into park, I turn it off and open my door, planning to walk up the sidewalk and knock on his door. It makes it seem almost like I’m picking up a real date. That’s some progress if you ask me.
But I don't get the chance. I barely make it to the gate, my hand on the wood, ready to push it open, when he steps out the door, bag in hand.
“Hey,” he calls to me as he turns, locking the door behind him.
Opening the gate, I head up to the porch, meeting him just as he steps down to the ground. “Let me take that.” I hold out my hand, waiting for him to give me his bag.
He just laughs, pushing my hand away. “I got it. I’m not so weak that I can’t carry it from here to your car. What is it, like fifteen or twenty feet?” He scrunches his face, and I bet he’s trying to estimate the distance.
“Something like that,” I chime in while shaking my head.
He heads straight to the passenger backdoor, but I step in and take the bag from his hand before he can reach for the handle.
"I’ve got it," I say, my voice low but firm.
He pauses, like he isn't sure what to make of the gesture, but then he lets me.
I open the door for him and glance over. His eyes meet mine, and something unspoken passes between us.
Before he climbs in, I lean in close and brush a kiss against his cheek. It's quick, barely more than a touch, but I feel the tension in him shift.
I don’t say anything else. Just circle around the front of the car and slide into the driver’s seat, hands finding the wheel, heart trying to keep still.
The door opens, and he smiles widely at me. “By chance, can we pull through a drive thru somewhere and grab some coffee? I’m fucking exhausted today.”
“Yeah.” There’s a flutter in my heart that’s quickly smothered by a flicker of unease. He worked last night. I know he had a job, but not all the details. Was it a dinner date? An overnight? Something more? The questions circle, uninvited. “Late one, huh?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“Something like that.” He doesn’t look me in the eye and as I sneak glances at him, I see his face turning a bright shade of pink. “But I’ll have plenty of time to rest this weekend. Please tell me we can sleep in tomorrow.”
“We can even order room service when we wake up and stay in bed and eat it.”
“That sounds like heaven. You’re spoiling me, Malcolm. What am I going to do when you get past all these insecurities and let the world know the real you?”
“Nothing says we can’t still be friends. I’ll get the coffee, but we have a few hours of driving to get to the hotel. Why don’t you take a nap?”
“You wouldn’t mind if I do?” His head turns in my direction, and I can see happiness spreading across his face.
“No. I’m just going to turn on some music and drive.” His eyes show how weary he is, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s working too much. I’ve never asked him, but I’m curious how he chose this as a profession. Being a rent-a-date for anyone who needs his services.
I pull to a stop at a red light and look over at him.
His head’s slumped to the right, pressing up against the window, eyes closed, a gentle rise and fall of his chest. He’s asleep.
Not even ten minutes since I told him it was okay.
The light turns green and I slowly accelerate.
The coffee shop is coming up, and I choose to keep going versus pulling in, not wanting him to wake.
My fingers tap on the steering wheel in rhythm with the beat of the song on the radio.
One of my favorite nineties songs, It’s Tricky by Run DMC.
I love the song so much it’s taking everything in me not to belt the lyrics out at the top of my lungs.
But that would wake Bradley, and I don’t want to do that.
The tires hum against the smooth asphalt as I speed down the highway, eager to get to our destination.
The music switches to some nineties indie ballad that I can’t even remember the name of.
I bite down on my lip to keep from singing the catchy chorus line.
The air around me buzzes with anticipation and the unspoken promise of what this weekend means for me.
I can’t help but steal a glance every few minutes at the man beside me. The one who’s helping me regain my life and the man I love so I can be the real me. With each look I take of him, my stomach flips in excitement. This weekend is really happening.
I still can’t believe I’m on my way to another town for self-improvement.
Learning how to be the best version of myself.
How to be comfortable in my skin and effortlessly show the man I love affection, not only in the seclusion of our home, but in public.
And to gain the courage to let my family know the real me and be able to move forward, even if I don’t have their acceptance.
I’m done hiding. I’m ready to fight for the love I let slip away because of my insecurities.
The road curves ahead, and Bradley shifts in the passenger seat, angling his body away from me and toward the door. He’s drained. My mind drifts, wondering what happened last night for him to be so tired.
The ringing cuts the music off, sharp and sudden, cutting through the moment and pulling me back to the present.
Paige’s name flashes across the dash, and I quickly end the call, sighing in relief that Bradley didn’t wake.
But my ex is nothing but persistent and calls right back.
I reach out fast, fumbling slightly as I stab the screen to kill the Bluetooth connection.
The music cuts back on as I quickly pick my phone up from the console and answer it, holding it to my ear.
“Paige, this isn’t the best time,” I rush out quickly, keeping my voice low. My eyes flick over to Bradley, thankful to find him still sleeping.
“Where are you?” she asks, a slight frantic tinge to her voice.
“Driving,” I answer flatly.
“Really, Einstein? I kind of figured that since I’m in your apartment and you’re not here. Your car is missing, and I can hear a slight echo.” Of course she’s at my place. She still has a spare key she never gave back, and I never asked for.
I detect the annoyed frustration in her voice. I love her, but this weekend is already stressful enough without having to deal with whatever has her so worked up. But then guilt suffocates me as if I’m being swarmed by killer bees, a scene straight from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
“I’m sorry. But now isn’t a good time to chat. I’m headed out of town. Is it an emergency?” I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she needed me and I was brushing her off. She doesn’t say anything. “Shit it is, isn’t it? I can cancel and turn around right now.”
Maybe this weekend wasn’t meant to be, and I was hyping myself up for no reason. Coming out may not be in my future, but instead, living alone, pining after the man I love is.
“I’m fine, but why the fuck are you going out of town?” She all but screams, and I have to pull the phone back to keep my eardrums from bursting.
“Because I am.” I sigh. “Paige, if you’re just giving me the third degree and there’s nothing urgent like our kids have been in an accident, then I’m hanging up and I’ll talk to you on Monday.”
“Noooo!” she squeals, letting the word drag out longer than it should. “It’s important.”
“The kids? Are they okay?” My pulse quickening as I think of the worst-case scenario. Blood, impaled objects, and the jaws of life, among other things.
“Would you stop? I said they’re fine. It’s about someone else.”
“My parents?” I begin to seethe, wishing she’d get to the point.
“No. Stella told me she saw Jefferson at a charity event.”
“Okay. He goes to a lot of them.” That’s not anything new. Sometimes I attended as a guest. There was no hand holding, dancing, or even lustful glances. We had pretenses to keep up. Well, I did.
“He wasn’t alone. He had a date. And according to her, they were hot and heavy.” Paige effectively sticks the knife in my heart and gives it a twist. “When are you going to get your shit together and win him back?”
“I’m working on it,” I groan, hating that he’s moving on without me.
“Well, you need to hurry it up instead of being out of town.” She doesn’t miss a beat informing me what I need to do.
I want to yell, throw the phone, and puke all at the same time. I’m doing everything I can, and yet I keep falling behind.
“Paige, I’m trying. It’s what I’m out of town for this weekend. Working to come out and be comfortable being the real me in public. To talk to my parents and the kids. It’s just hard, and I need a little more time.”
“Really? You’re serious about doing this?”
“Yeah. I have someone helping me. Baby steps, but in double time.”
Neither of us says anything. An uncomfortable silence settles. The only sound is the music playing through the speaker and Bradley’s soft snore. One that’s so adorably cute, I want to record it just to play back later.
“I’m proud of you, Malcolm. Just remember, I’m here and I’ll be by your side if you need me.”
“I know. It’s why I love you.” And I do. She may not be my wife, but she is my best friend.
“Just hurry. You and Jefferson are perfect together. I’m just afraid he’s going to move on to someone new before you do what you need to so you can be with him.”
Her fear is valid. I’ve been feeling it as well. It doesn’t help that the news she gave me seems to make it a reality. Jefferson is moving on and I need to either figure out my issues, or lose him forever.
“I love you, Paige, but I need to go.”
“Love you too. Call me when you’re home.” With that, she hangs up, disconnecting the call.
I’m left with so much to think about and no answers. All I know is, I can’t lose him. Clicking into my text messages, I find my thread with Jefferson and quickly type.
Me: I’m working on sorting out my insecurities and coming out to my family. Don’t give up on me. On us, yet.
Me: I love you.