24 #3
“Internalized homophobia is a real thing. I’ve had to do some work on it, but honestly, coming out was fairly easy for me.”
I snorted. “You had a million fans. It wasn’t easy for you.”
“Yeah, well, you know what I mean. My mom doesn’t care. Fer doesn’t care. God, Fer has no room to talk, actually. But I know Theo has worked really hard not to—not to let it be part of his life.”
And that was true, but it was something I’d never thought about before.
I knew Theo’s family was the Bible-thumping type.
Rural Missouri farmers with deep ties to their church.
I knew things weren’t always easy between Theo and his family.
But I’d never thought about what it must have been like for Theo, growing up like that, and then coming out.
When I’d met Theo, he’d already been with Ian.
Already been out. Already been married to a man.
He’d made it seem so easy, so natural, so normal.
That, more than anything, was why after Ian died, I’d wanted to be with him.
Like I could just step into that life without having to do any of the hard stuff.
Which was, in hindsight, pretty fucked up. But maybe understandable too.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I am who I am. It’s not going to change. And anybody who doesn’t like it can go fuck themselves.”
Auggie nodded.
I tried to steady my voice, but it came out with a helplessness that made me blink rapidly. “So, why can’t I fucking stop caring?”
“That’s kind of the question, right?”
I nodded. I pulled up my shirt to wipe my eyes. Auggie was looking anywhere but at me.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Theo and I want you to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s kind of fitting that you’re the one who helped me see some new fucked-up depths to how messed up I am.”
“Cart, you’re not messed up. You’re a person. You’re a really good person. A lot of guys struggle with this because of how they grew up, because our society is heteronormative, because they’re told from a young age how they’re supposed to be and what’s going to happen if they aren’t.”
“Not that good a person.”
Auggie’s mouth softened. “Noah loves you, Cart. I’ve seen you together. I think maybe you need to talk to him about some of this stuff. Help him understand.”
“He’s right to be mad. He’s right about—about a lot of stuff. He shouldn’t let anybody make him feel like he’s invisible. That’s not what I was trying to do, but I know that’s how it came across.” That same helplessness made me add, “I really fucked up.”
“I know it’s not going to be as easy as one conversation, but I think it would help Noah a lot just to hear that you’re not embarrassed by him, and you love him, and you recognize that this behavior is an issue and you want to work on it. That you want to find a way to help him feel seen.”
“Gee, how very fucking helpful, Skippy.” But because he was—apparently—the only person in my life currently available to help me, I said, “I get it. Therapy. That kind of shit. But what am I supposed to do, you know? To show him. It’s not like I can come out again.”
Auggie laughed. When I made a face, he waved a hand.
“Cart, come on. That’s what being gay is all about.
We come out over and over and over again.
You’re never done. It’s never finished. Every time I tell a new client about my husband, every time I meet a new teacher of Lana’s, hell, every time we go to the grocery store. ”
I thought about that. And I thought maybe—possibly—Theo had seen a little more in Auggie than just a great piece of ass.
“Would it help if you thought of it as inviting people in?” Auggie asked.
“Huh?”
“Instead of coming out. Like, coming out can make you feel vulnerable, like you’re stepping out of this safe space. But what if you think about inviting people in. You’re inviting them into this part of your life that’s special. You’re sharing it with them.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It doesn’t feel like inviting someone in when Noah’s got his arm through mine and he wants to skip down Market Street.”
“Uh, yeah, no, the metaphor probably doesn’t work for that.”
I grunted. I rubbed my eyes. I still had no fucking idea what to do except, apparently, start socking money away for more therapy.
“You know,” Auggie said, “I remember when you and Theo were together.”
“Really? That far back?”
“Okay.”
“When you were still in diapers.”
“What the hell, Cart? I’m trying to help you.” But he was grinning.
“Spit it out, Sparky.”
“I remember—” he said, and now he was drawing it out because Theo obviously didn’t spank him enough. “—you guys had some rough patches.”
“We fought like shithouse rats, I think you mean.”
“And you know what I remember?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You were terrible at apologies.” His grin crooked across his mouth. “But that never stopped you from trying.”
And the idea hit me. “Fuck me.”
“What?”
“Text Theo and ask him if you can stay out past curfew. You’re going to help me.”
“Please,” Auggie prompted.
I clapped my hands. “Text your fucking daddy, nips. We’ve got work to do.”