Page 30 of Vesper Martinis

“I actually just met him at the park like last week,” Minnie says. “I just moved here, and I’m rooming with Wes for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. And you?” she asks Wesley.

“Yeah, how did you meet?” Minnie says, turning to him with a mischievous grin on her face.

Ooh, she’s trouble. I like it.

“Well, we met in a bar a while ago. Chatted. And then, several months later, I found out he was my new boss.”

“So you work at Sweet Cocktails?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’ve been there for about a year,” Wesley replies.

Thankfully, the conversation about how we met ends there, and Mom doesn’t ask how I’m “friends” with my employee. We just move on to more exciting things, like her cats.

All the while, Wesley sneaks glances at me whenever Mom talks about me. And I can’t help but smile every time they talk. He’s such a good people person, and they seem to be getting along well. The table lights up with laughter and happiness, and I find myself smiling along with them.

There is something so special about this moment. Maybe it’s the fact that if Wesley and I were a couple, this is what I’d imagine life would be like. Hanging out with Mom and Minnie. Laughing and sharing stories.

It’s delightful, and I sit back and soak it in.

“Wesley was the cutest kid. Big cheeks and dimples. Oh, he was adorable. What happened?” Minnie asks, nudging her friend in the side.

“Ha ha,” Wesley says. “Minnie was pretty cute, too. She used to be so quiet, and boy, do I miss that silent little cherub that never got me in trouble.”

Minnie laughs, leans into Wesley, and loud-whispers, “It’s my big mouth that’s gotten you laid. Don’t forget that.”

Wesley clears his throat nervously, and I pretend I didn’t hear that. Minnie has been responsible for a couple of interactions that otherwise wouldn’t have happened, but I’m grateful they did because I got to know Wesley a little more.

Learning about Wesley is something I’ve been doing more lately, and I find that it’s more comfortable than I thought. Sure, talking about my parents sucked, but finding it within myself to trust him with that information makes me believe that this whole relationship thing might not be so bad.

“What was Pierce like as a kid?” Wesley asks.

Mom’s eyes light up, and she sighs, nostalgia hitting her hard.

“My little boy was just the best. I know every mother says that, but it’s true. He was curious and happy. Loved being outside. He used to run around the block where we lived. He was strong and quick. You still are,” my mom says to me. “In the backyard, there was a little sandcastle, and I remember him playing with his Legos. He’d build sandcastles and pretend that he lived there with a prince and sometimes a princess.”

“Hmm, so you knew who he was back when he was a kid?” Wesley asks.

“We didn’t know what to call it then, but I guess we did know. I didn’t know what words to use, and neither did his father, so we just let him figure it out on his own and let him know that we were there for him. All I knew was that I loved my boy and wanted him to love who he wanted to love.”

I try not to get emotional at that. As a kid, I didn’t know that sometimes parents aren't nice to their kids about their sexuality, and it fills me with such pride that my parents were okay with it. Even if my dad was a bad person, he wasn’t a bigot, and even though that doesn’t make him awesome in my eyes, I still can't help myself appreciating it.

“I didn’t really know until I was like fourteen, maybe,” Wesley says. “I just didn’t think about it much, and then one day I saw this guy, and I was like, ‘holy crap, he is so hot.’ I thought at first that it was envy like I didn’t want to be with him, but I wanted to be him. Then I thought maybe I’m gay, but I still liked girls, so that didn’t make any sense. I think the internet was the first time I saw the word bisexual and the description of it just fit me like a glove, and in that moment, I knew who I was. Well, after a while, I knew who I was since I didn’t know if you had to date people to know who you like or just know.”

“Did you talk to your parents about it?” Mom asks.

Wesley shakes his head. “Not really. I’m the kind of person who wants to know some things for sure before talking about them. Sexuality was one of them. I wanted to be sure that I was bi before I started asking questions about it. I know it’s probably a strange thing to do—”

“It isn’t,” I say, putting my hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” he replies, and I slowly pull my hand from his warmth. Even though I don’t really want to.

“I would ask questions but be kind of vague about it. Like I’d ask if you had to date to find out who you liked, and their answers went from yes, you probably need to date to know, to no, you are who you are even if you’ve never dated. After a while, I learned about sexuality on my own and figured out that, no, you don’t have to date to know your sexuality. At least, that’s what I learned from others and some videos. Either way, after I figured it out, I felt so much better. So much so that I could tell my parents, and they were super cool about it.”

“That’s good,” Mom says, and I can feel the smile growing on my face.

I love that Wesley grew up in such a loving environment that was so full of stability.

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