Page 59 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

She turns and opens the refrigerator, pulling out a pack of lettuce and an assortment of pre-cut vegetables. As she busies herself with the salad, I lean closer and whisper into Tatum’s ear, “If it helps my case, I’ve been told I’m an excellent salad tosser.”The grip his entrance has on my finger tightens, and I have to chuckle when he whimpers into my ear.

“She’s such a sweet woman,” Tatum’s mother says.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call her sweet,” Tatum argues. “She can be a monster at times. I’d be careful, if I were you. I’ve seen her cut off a man’s thumb for calling me a faggot.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t use that word. You know it makes me uncomfortable.”

Tatum rolls his eyes. “I’ve been called a ‘faggot’ more times than I can count. While I appreciate your allyship, it isn’t your word to police, so I’m very uninterested in that opinion.”

Mrs. St. James shrugs and sighs, then it’s like a lightbulb goes off in her head. A warm smile settles on her face as she practically sings, “Fiona removed a man’s thumb for you?” she asks, her eyes brimming with tears, though I can’t think of a single reason the admission might make her weepy. “She wasn’t lying. She really does love you.”

Tatum arches an eyebrow. “You’ve talked about me with her?”

“We’ve talked about a lot of things,” she says. “Did you know she was a beauty pageant queen? She showed me pictures of all her trophies. She still hosts pageants sometimes, too.” The look on her face radiates pride, and maybe something a bit more brewing beneath the surface. “She said she’s going to come down next spring and let me tag along to one she’s presenting in Dallas.” She grabs a baby carrot and pops it into her mouth, chewing obnoxiously with her mouth open. She studies her son for a moment before circling the kitchen island and standing in front of us. Leaning in, she kisses her son’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, Tatum.”

“For what?”

“For being yourself. For not letting anyone steal your sparkle. When you were little, I used to worry about how hard life would be for you. People weren’t always as accepting as they are now—especially in Texas—and I knew it would be hard for you.”Her voice is small at first. Almost fragile in nature. Then her eyes narrow, and nods decidedly. “You never let anyone shame you for being gay. You didn’t take anyone’s guff. It takes a tough person to live their life so confidently. Sometimes, I wish I was more like you when I was younger.” Before Tatum can respond, she pops his bottom and flashes me a smile. “Go on. Both of you. If I don’t get this finished, it might be my thumb Fiona’s cutting off. Out you go.”

I carry him out of the kitchen, toward the archway. When we enter the living room, I’m worried about what Mr. St. James might think should he see where my hand is resting. My eyes widen a bit when I see him on the sofa. He’s got his legs propped on the coffee table. Resting on either side of him are Bennet and Benjamin. Bennet’s casually flipping through a magazine, looking more bored than anyone I’ve ever seen. His legs are in front of him, and he’s got as much room between himself and Mr. St. James as humanly possible. On the other side, Benjamin is a stark contrast. He clings to and climbs on Mr. St. James like an overactive toddler. He has his legs draped over the older man’s, and he’s driving a Hot Wheels car up and down the man’s biceps, making “vroom-vroom” sounds. For his part, Mr. St. James seems smitten with the boy.

I’m not sure what they were like when they were still in Tatum’s fold. I can’t help but feel inadequate, because his family seems to have history with these men. History I will never be privy to. How many times have they sat at the table as a family? How many special events were held while they were together? We are leaving in just a few days’ time, and who knows how long it will be before Tatum and I can make another visit. Texas is hardly a hop and a skip down the street.

It’s a deep, bitter, unwelcome pain that spreads through my chest when I realize what I’m asking Tatum to give up, simply to keep me happy. Should he choose to return to Washington, he will lose his friends. His family. His everything. I do not know how long it will be before resentment seeps in.

It takes me a moment to realize Benjamin and Mr. St. James are in the middle of a discussion. While Benji darts his eyes back and forth between his friend and the older man.

“Bennet?” Benji says, his voice soft. He sounds frightened. “You promise you’re not mad at me?”

Bennet peeks over the top of his magazine, one eyebrow raised. While his friend may be the epitome of sunshine, Bennet seems to radiate rainy days and dreary weather. That’s why I’m taken aback when his expression softens.

“I’m not mad, baby. Promise.”

“But what are we supposed to do now? What about when Nito comes home?”

“Benji?” He sets the magazine beside him and leans over Mr. St. James’s lap, squeezing his friend’s hand. Unfortunately, with it resting on the older man’s thigh, Bennet inadvertently grazes Mr. St. James’s bulge. Mr. St. James gasps, but quickly composes himself, resting a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. Neither of the Bens seem to have taken notice, but when I look at Tatum, his jaw is clenched, so I’m fairly confident it wasn’t unseen by him.

“Yeah, Bennet?”

“What did I tell you earlier? As long as I’ve got you, I don’t care. You’re the only person I care about in the world. So, shut up and quit asking. My answer isn’t changing.”

“But where are we going to go? We can’t just run away with Tatum. That’s crazy. His boyfriend keeps giving me the evil eye, so he’s probably going to try to kill me.”

“His boyfriend is right here,” I point out.

Benjamin makes a high-pitched sound and scurries closer to Bennet, trapping Mr. St. James between them. The older man looks scandalized by all of their antics, but he does not push them away.

“Don’t let him hurt me, Daddy—” Benji’s eyes widen and Bennet sighs. “Bennet, we don’t—We ain’t got a Daddy anymore. Who’s going to take care of us? Who are we going to?—”

“I will,” Bennet says decidedly. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to be scared of anything. As long as we’re together, we’re going to be okay, remember?”

Benji nods but doesn’t seem very convinced.

“Until you boys find yourselves a daddy,” Mr. St. James interjects. “You’re both welcome to stay here. I’d be more than happy to help you find a third for your relationship. Tatum’s leaving in a few days, so his room will be free.”

That gets Tatum’s attention. He quickly pulls away from me and stares at his father with his mouth hanging open. I can tell there’s a sea of sass ready to pour out of his mouth, but as he watches his father console his friend, Tatum’s eyebrows scrunch together in the center of his forehead. He studies them for a while, his lips curling when Mr. St. James takes Benjamin’s nose between his knuckles. When he pulls it away, his thumb is poking through his fingers, and he jokes, “I got your nose.”

“Quit it,” Bennet growls, slapping Mr. St. James’s hand away from his friend’s face. “Stop bothering him.”

---