Page 117 of Call Me Sir

Or so I think.

After a few minutes he’s sound asleep in my arms and I’m wide awake.

I figure I’ll eventually drift off, but twenty minutes pass and I can’t keep my eyes closed.

Gently easy out from under him, I pull on my silk pants and grab my phone.

Out in the living room, I flick on the lamp beside the couch and make myself comfortable.

It’s odd sitting out here without him, but there’s peace. I can imagine myself living here. Is that strange? Would he rather live up on the tenth floor with an ocean view?

The night plays through my mind again and it fills my chest with a fondness I haven’t felt since I was with Andy. We were together for seven years. However, my relationship with Cole is different, despite him working for me, and despite the age gap, there’s a connection I’ve never had before.

And for some reason, my father springs to mind and all those good sentiments are washed away to sea replaced with a bubbling anger.

Opening my phone, I pull open his contact.

I click on the call button and hold it to my ear, my heart hammering in my chest.

I’m not normally one to do this, yet I can’t help myself.

“Hello?” His voice is groggy. “Sal? Is everything alright?”

Hmm, it is late. I should feel bad.

“I wanted to call and talk for a minute.”

On the other end, I hear another man’s tired voice and my father telling him it’s alright and to go back to bed. Then the shuffling of feet. I can picture him putting on his slippers and robe and rushing to a more private place to sleep.

So, he’s not faking being gay, or bi, to irritate me.

Somehow that’s not comforting at all.

“What’s up, Sal?”

“I should have sent a letter,” I begin, realizing how ridiculous this is. “But I called on an impulse.”

“I’m all ears.”

His temperament reminds me of when I was a teenager. He’d always been fairly reasonable growing up. Truthfully, we always got along, until I came out to him.

“I know I’m supposed to be grateful your accepting now, and even part of the community now, but I’m not.” I wait for him to say something. He remains quiet. “There’s this rumor going around that I moved to Italy with mom…”

“What?!”

The outrage in his voice makes me jump.

“I was shitty to you Sal,” he stops talking for a moment and I wonder if he’s trying to come up with some excuse. “However, I would never do something so cruel to your mother.”

It’s not enough, though. It doesn’t put out the fire raging in my chest, my heart, my mind.

“I’m supposed to go to this gala and tell everyone how great of a father you are? Where do they think I’ve been? What have you been telling people?”

I half expect him to tell me it’s late, and we can talk about this another time. On the other end, I hear chair legs scrape against tile. It’s an awful sound. One that promises time.

“That’s a big ask. And maybe I should have met with you one on one, rather than at work, rather than with your adorable boyfriend…”

Silence.

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