Chapter 13
Thirteen
Arthur
I roll over again on the couch, trying to get comfortable. It’s only been two nights, and I already desperately miss my own bed, the one I share with Jack and Bennett.
Tonight was truly terrible. I never get to see Bree again? Not for as long as I live? That’s a thought that cuts me open, and yet I had no choice but to agree to it if I wanted to keep Jack. And of course I need to put Jack first. I married him. I made my vows to stay by his side forever.
I sleep like shit and wake up feeling like shit, but I’ve still got to go in to work. Especially if we want to buy that bigger house. Not that the thought excites me anymore.
It’s dodgeball day, which is really the worst day to be teaching physical education. I have to help a few kids off the court who get hit in the face. But I’m just the assistant, so I get no say in it.
I can’t wait to leave this place and become a dad full time—though now I wonder if it will always be a little tainted after last night. This was supposed to be a positive experience for my family, and now Bennett and I have ruined it.
That night, we eat quietly around the table. Jack suggests I come back to bed, but I don’t feel like cuddling, so I sleep on the couch again. I’m still too angry and too miserable to lie next to him.
I don’t remove Bree’s number from my phone. I think about texting her, asking how she’s doing, but if Jack found out, it would ruin everything already hanging in precarious balance.
Over the next week, the tone in our home remains sour.
Bennett and I don’t talk about her, even when we’re alone, as if her name is a curse hanging over us.
Over the weekend, Jack invites us out to dinner and a movie.
I think it’s intended as a peace offering, but I have nothing to say to him.
Dinner is awkward and quiet as he tries to make conversation.
Even Bennett has shut down, but in a more resigned way.
He has curled in on himself and withdrawn.
I’m the one who’s angry. I’m the one who feels like a part of myself has been cut out and thrown away. I know Bennett feels it too after his confession at the dinner. We found something in Bree that filled our hearts, and now it’s gone.
The ache of the rut is almost unbearable, but I have no conscious interest in sex. Instead, I sit alone when I get home from work and jack off until the pressure eases, and then again in the bathroom before bed.
What a pathetic existence.
Eventually, I return to our bed, but I keep to myself. How can you have intimacy with someone who’s hurt you so deeply? I don’t know how to get past it.
Then, at long last, rutting season comes to an end. The cherry blossoms have fallen and the crocuses have bloomed. Now it’s May, and the world around us is preparing for summer.
Not that it matters. School will be out soon, which leaves me at home all day with nothing to do. Maybe I should fix up the house to sell it. Maybe a change like that would be good for all of us.
We desperately need a reset.
Time drags by. Soon it’s been an entire month since I heard from Bree.
I still haven’t been intimate with Jack or Bennett. The hurt is too fresh and my heart aches. Jack tries to bring me back into the fold, to kiss me and stroke my hair when we sleep, but it feels tainted now.
“You know,” Jack says one night over dinner, “I’m the one who should be angry, Arthur. Not you.”
“I’m not angry,” I say, picking at my food.
“Sure you’re not.” Jack’s ears droop. “I thought you’d be over it by now.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that I’ll never be over it. I’ll never forget the part of myself I uncovered, or what I felt about Bree. All I can think about is how she’s doing alone, no one there for her as she carries our fawn.
Instead of gratifying him with an answer, I keep my mouth shut and finish eating. Jack searches my face, then sighs and returns to his dinner, too.
Bree
It was frigid cold when I went back to my car that night, tears streaming down my face. I’d held them in until I got outside the satyrs’ house, when I finally let them free.
But I deserve what happened. I was a part of this, too, and as much as it hurt me, Jack had the right to do it. I don’t like him, but I have to respect his boundaries. If I learned anything about him at that dinner, it’s that he protects his herd with whatever force he deems necessary.
Life returns to… something like normal after that. As normal as it was before Mangelli and Bennett. Which, now that I’m here again, is kind of lonely. I had hookups before, Tinder dates that turned into nothing. It’s always just been me against the world, and I’m back to where I started.
The roulette of online dating holds no interest for me now.
When I’m on the stream, I fantasize about my two satyrs.
A lot of people were disappointed when “Rick” and “Todd” never came back, and my viewership dropped, but that’s all right.
I made good money while I could, and now things are back to the way they were—not to mention that now I’ve got my monthly stipend from DreamTogether.
Still, I accept when GingerWatchman requests a private session, even though I got weird vibes from him last time. I’m shoring up my savings for that vacation I’m planning.
For a while, we make idle chitchat, though my mind is elsewhere. Eventually, though, he changes the topic.
where are the satyrs? he asks. finally gave them the boot?
I shake my head. “I don’t really feel like talking about that.”
I’m paying for this.
It takes some effort for me to school my expression and keep it friendly.
“Well, something came up, and they have other obligations.”
It sounded like someone was angry.
He’s digging, and I really don’t like it.
“I might need to give you a refund,” I say. “I’m a little tired tonight.”
Please don’t go. He sends a bunch of crying emojis. I won’t ask any more.
I try to pick up the show where it left off, but my heart isn’t in it. It all gives me the creeps.
At least I haven’t had many pregnancy symptoms yet. I haven’t gotten sick like in all the books and movies. I feel decidedly normal, but an eerie, melancholy normal, as if nothing will actually ever be the same again.
I try to spend more time with Tilly, but she can tell I’m in a bummer mood. She invites me out to do fun activities to keep me distracted. We go bowling, attend trivia night, or veg out and watch movies at her house with popcorn and ice cream. I can definitely still eat lots of ice cream.
“Maybe you could try reaching out to them in a few months,” Tilly suggests one night. “When things have cooled off. Try talking to Jack directly.”
The last thing I want is another confrontation with Jack. He’d been so menacing that night… I have a hard time imagining he would even look at my message. Not that I have anything to say.
It’s all been said, and now we live with the fallout.
Time drags by. My viewership decreases steadily as I fail to show up every night, and when I do, I simply can’t summon the same enthusiasm, no matter how hard I try.
HornyBen is never there anymore, of course.
Then, one morning, I wake up to find myself wet. When I push down the blanket, a small puddle of blood surrounds me.
I call the hospital right away, hoping I haven’t lost this baby. But I already know.
Bennett
I have never been so unhappy.
Every night and every day I think about Bree, about our fawn, about the radical injustice of it all. I think about leaving myself, but I committed to being a dad, and I’m going to be the best dad there is, even if it kills me.
These are the days I sit in my cubicle with my face in my hands, the cursor on the screen blinking as it waits for me to finish an email.
I haven’t even attended one of Sienna’s streams since the night of the dinner, trying to be a good husband, trying to make amends with Jack.
But even as we pretend things are normal, I know they’ll never be the same again.
Finally, it’s five o’clock, so I pack up my shit and head home. Surprisingly, Jack’s SUV is already in the driveway, and the lights in the house are all on. It smells good as I approach the front door.
Inside the house, light jazz is playing, and Jack stands in front of the stove in an apron. He smiles when I appear in the entryway.
“Hope you like homemade pizza,” he says as he stretches out a ball of dough.
“Sure do.” I slide past him in the kitchen, and he frowns as I go by. Maybe once upon a time, I’d have squeezed his ass. But that kind of playfulness in myself feels like it’s gone into hibernation.
Eventually, Arthur gets home. He’s quiet as he goes to change out of his yoga clothes.
He found a new place to attend classes on the other side of town, but he never comes back in a good mood like he used to.
Finally, we’re all seated at the table, and I compliment Jack accordingly on his pizza-making skills.
I’m doing my best to heal this relationship, I really am. But my heart isn’t in it.
When Jack’s phone rings, he lets out an annoyed sigh and takes it out of his pocket, probably thinking it’s spam. But when he looks at the screen, his mouth forms a stiff line.
“It’s DreamTogether.”
“Well, answer it,” Arthur says.
I scoot my chair closer so I can hear as someone on the other end greets Jack by name.
“What is it?” he asks as he puts it on speakerphone. “If it’s about our payment plan—”
“No,” the woman interrupts. “It’s about your surrogate.”
Jack falls still. “What about her?”
There’s a pause, and Jack repeats, “What about her?”
“I’m so sorry,” the woman says. “She’s had a miscarriage. The fetus is gone.”
My whole fucking world turns upside down.
Gone? Our fawn is… gone?
Arthur scrambles to his feet.
“No!” he grips the edge of the table. “That can’t be right!”
My blood is rushing too fast through my ears to hear what the representative says next. But then I hear Jack answer, “We understand.”
After exchanging a few more words with DreamTogether, he hangs up and puts the phone down.
Arthur whimpers, and tears are cascading down his face. Running to his side, I wrap him in my arms and pull him in closer. He turns his head, burying it in my shoulder, and lets himself cry.
When I look up, Jack is staring at us, looking utterly lost.
“Poor Bree,” says Arthur, now crying harder. “I hope she’s okay.” He looks up then and scowls at Jack. “And you didn’t even ask! You don’t give a shit about her!”
Jack says nothing, but his lips twist.
I hold Arthur closer because my world, too, is collapsing. The fawn we all made together is gone, a life snuffed out too early.
But then Arthur pushes me off and surges to his feet.
“I’m going over to Bree’s place,” he says, stalking to the front door without a second look at either of us. “Someone needs to be there for her.”
Jack gapes at him. “You’re leaving? Now?”
“Yeah.” Arthur pauses, glancing at both of us over his shoulder as we follow him through the kitchen. “You can kick me out if you want, Jack. Fine.”
Jack’s mouth opens to object, but Arthur’s already going. The door falls closed behind him, and we hear his junky old car start up in the driveway.
He’s right. Bree’s all by herself, and she just lost a fawn, too. Did it hurt? Is she in pain even now? Is she as devastated as I am?
“Fuck it,” I say as I push past Jack. Arthur knows what’s right. He’s always followed his own moral compass, and now, I think I should, too. “I’m going with him.”
Jack doesn’t speak to me as I grab my wallet and head out the door. I wave at Arthur as he pulls out of the driveway, and he puts on the brake so I can hop into the passenger seat.
Arthur shoots me a grateful look, and I nod in return.
Just as Arthur is about to gun it, the front door opens and Jack comes out. He waves for us to stop.
“I’m coming,” he growls as he gets into the back seat, “so don’t drive like a lunatic, Arthur.”