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But I also gently pull out my first edition ofFrankensteinand head for Marjorie’s office.

“Please donate this to the New York Public Library,” I say, placing it next to her keyboard.

She’s sitting at her desk, going over spreadsheets on her computer.

“Wait. You’re home? How did it go?”

I give her the most convincing smile I can manage. “It went well. Please contact the director of the library to prepare them for the shipment, then meet me on the veranda. We have something to discuss.”

17

Timber

It’s well past midnight when Manny finally drags a roll-out mattress from underneath his bed. As much as I enjoy catching up with him, we both need rest.

Manny falls asleep right away, but I lie on the mattress for over an hour, wondering what I’m going to do next. Tomorrow I’ll need to call Davey and tell him I had unprotected sex with Andrew. It’s against my contract to have unprotected sex with anyone. They’ll suspend me from filming for a full six weeks, which will give me a legitimate reason to not perform. But after that, what is my plan? I don’t have enough money to stop working, and I don’t have any more marketable skills now than I did ten years ago when I was desperate enough for work that I decided to go into porn.

I promised Andrew I wouldn’t perform anymore, and I meant it when I said that I didn’t want to. I’m just not sure what comes next.

The following morning, I give Manny a long hug before I head back home. He promises to keep me updated, and I thank him. With any luck, we’ll see each other soon, but it’s still hard to leave him in his lonely house with his well-worn scriptures that tell him he isn’t worthy of happiness.

The drive home feels longer than the drive there. I keep waiting for a call from Marjorie, telling me when we can meet. At that meeting I’ll get a burner phone, and I can finally message Andrew to reassure myself that last weekend was more than just a dream.

Soon I’ll have my baby boy back in my arms.

When I’m thirty minutes away from home, I see a sign for a department store. I pull off the freeway and navigate toward a strip mall where the store is located on the far end.

There are some things I’d like to pick up before seeing Andrew again, and maybe shopping for him will help me miss him a little less.

I park near the front of the lot. It’s a Monday morning, so the lot isn’t particularly full. I take my time walking through the sliding doors and grabbing a cart. There’s no need to rush. Then I head toward the back of the store where I find what I need: the toy section.

At the BDSM club near my house, there’s a small corner where a box of toys sits. They aren’t played with often, but sometimes I’ll walk in to find one or two people holding the dolls or building a tower with colorful blocks. They’re usually dressed in bright clothing, and they almost always have a Daddy or Mommy with them.

The guys at the club call them “littles” or “middles,” depending on the age they like to regress to.

I don’t know if Andrew is a little, but I’d like to talk to him about it. Maybe if I give him a few toys before I bring it up, he’ll feel more comfortable than he did when I suggested he order grilled cheese. I had to push him pretty far into subspace before he felt comfortable enough to open up about his food preferences. There has to be an easier way to get him to loosen up about that side of himself. He said he wanted to explore it with me, but it’s clear that he’s still a little shy.

If only I knew what toys to buy for him. At the compound where I grew up, no one bought us toys. We made them ourselves from the sticks and leaves in the forest surrounding the settlement. We weren’t allowed to have possessions, so even those toys were left forgotten in the woods once it was time to go home.

I walk down the aisle and try to imagine what Andrew might enjoy. He seems attached to his stuffed bear already, so he probably doesn’t want another one of those. I toss a bag of something called Classic LEGO in the cart. I’m fairly certain I saw toys like that in the box at the club. And I also grab something called Playdough since Andrew had mentioned it was his favorite flavor of ice cream.

I stop when I reach the aisle that fuses toys and home décor. A display of a child’s bed is surrounded by a light blue canopy that hangs from the ceiling. I imagine Andrew would like to read while hidden inside a canopy like that. We could hide in there together with a flashlight, and he could read the rest of Frankenstein to me.

I find the shelf where the canopies are being sold and put one in the cart. I also go down the camping aisle to buy him a bright yellow flashlight.

On the way toward the cash register, I toss an adorable stuffed dragon into my cart. Andrew has a stuffed bear, but he may not have one of these. I get a little thrill as I think of how he might react to these toys. And maybe I’ll get to learn exactly what one does with LEGOs. I never got to find out when I was a child myself.

As I scan the items and set them back in the cart, I finally get a call from Marjorie. I answer it on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“This is Marjorie Thompson. I’m calling you on behalf of Andrew Sullivan. There’s some paperwork you need to sign concerning the termination of last weekend’s contract. Are you available to meet me today?”

Thank God. I don’t want to wait any longer to get my hands on that burner phone.

“Yes. What time is good for you?”

“I have availability at four.”

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