Page 76 of Mine

“I can do this all day.” He walks, me hanging over his shoulder, giving me the perfect opportunity to spankhisass, something he didn’t see coming.

“I only like being on the other end of that.” He pants heavily, dramatically, like he’s struggling to breathe. He only takes a couple more steps before setting me on my feet. “I, in fact, cannot do that all day.”

He smiles, and I feel it in my chest. I wrap my arms around him, cheek against his chest. “You make me so happy. I love you.” I know I make him happy too. I’ve never seen Marshall laugh as much as he does with me, never seen the lightness and playfulness in him that he now has. He’s letting go in ways he never allowed himself to before, something he deserves so much, and I hate that my parents aren’t around to see it. Hate that they’ve turned this beautiful thing between us into something ugly, that Marshall has to trade his happiness for the brother he loves.

It’s not fair.

And I hate how much I miss them too.

Every day it grows even more.

“I love you too.” Marshall kisses the top of my sweaty head. “And you make me so happy that sometimes I don’t believe it’s real. But that’s not going to get you out of finishing this jog. We have to hurry so I can get to work.” He grabs my hand and tugs me, but I go willingly. I’m only pretending to complain about running before the sun even comes up; in actuality, I’m loving every moment I share with him.

*

I stare atthe unanswered texts from Mom while Reggie and I hang out at the apartment I haven’t slept at in weeks. I was mostly at Marshall’s before the threesome, but I’ve been at hishouse every single night since. After our jog today, Marshall had showered and gone to work, and I’d been lonely, so I’d come over to see my friend. Before, I used to hang out with Mom sometimes when I didn’t have work, or I’d go out to lunch with Dad. Most of the time, I complained about it, knowing we’d get into some argument about one thing or another, but now that I don’t have those moments with them, I realize how much I enjoyed everything except the fighting.

I switch over to the messages from Dad. He hasn’t sent any in two weeks; I didn’t answer any of his previous texts that were in response to the one where I told him I won’t be a part of their lives just for them to judge me for Marshall, and if they can’t accept him, that means they can’t accept me.

“You miss them, huh?” Reggie says, coming up behind me as I sit at the small kitchen table.

“Yeah, even more now than in the beginning. We have such a complicated relationship. Both of them would make me so angry—Dad more than Mom—but we had fun too. I know how lucky I was to have parents who would have given me anything, and I never for one second didn’t feel their love.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that has to be hard.” He sits beside me. “Why don’t you call them? Talk to them? They clearly want to make up with you.”

“Yeah, with me, but not Marshall. It’s not fair. I would feel terrible doing that to him.”

“I don’t know your man well, but I know him enough to know he wouldn’t blame you, that he wants you to have a relationship with your parents.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” We’ve actually gotten into a couple of small arguments about it lately, the only thing we disagree about. Marshall wants me to call them, to see them, but I won’t. Not when I know they don’t understand or accept us, not when I know they’re going to look at my relationship with the onlyman I’ve ever loved and tell me it’s wrong. If Marshall and I are wrong, then I’m wrong, and that’s not something you should ever say to someone you love. “He really wants me to talk to them, but I can’t, not yet. And really, for people who know me… That’s what I don’t understand about my parents.Theyknow me. They know how strong-willed I am. They know I don’t do anything unless it’s what I want, so how can they look at me and Marshall and not see that if this is what I’m doing with him, it’s because I love it or need it and not because he brought me into some kink cult, like they seem to believe.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Reggie reaches over and squeezes my hand. Even though we’d hooked up before, I’d wondered if it would be awkward after our threesome, but it hasn’t been. It’s been just like before, only now sex is off the table between us. “As someone who’s seen you actually receiving some of that kink-cult stuff, I can vouch that you love and crave every second of it.”

I laugh, thankful for the complete unconditional acceptance I’ve found in Reggie and Marshall. Hopefully one day I can find it with my parents too.

“I’m worried about him, though… Marshall is hurting but pretends he’s not. He doesn’t talk about it. He and Dad own this cabin in Asheville, and they have this whole dude thing out there every year. It’s coming up in a couple of weeks, and I see that weighing on Marshall.”

I’ve gone back and forth on the best way to do it. Mention it? Offer to go? It’s not me he wants to be there with, and I can’t take my dad’s place.

“It’s just really fucking shitty, and I want to make it better for him.”

“I know, but you can’t. He’s a grown man, and he chose you. He knew what he was giving up.”

True, but that doesn’t help me deal with the fact that he shouldn’t have to give anything up because he loves me. Neither of us should have to.

We hang out until it’s time for me to go to work. I get to the restaurant a few minutes early, just as Marty, the master chef, is getting off for the day. We meet in the breakroom.

“We have a new special today, something we’ve never made before.” He explains an Italian sausage dish to me that sounds delicious. “I thought about you right away. I think you’ll like it, but I want your opinion on it. I’d like to spice it up a bit.”

His words leave me speechless. He wantsmyopinion?

Marty laughs. “Why are you looking at me like a dying fish?”

That sparks my ability to speak into action again. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’d want my opinion. I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not a chef.”

“You’re not a chef, but you have a natural inclination for food, and you enjoy it. Your instincts are good. We’ve taken your advice before.”

“Yeah, but that’s when I just offered it. You don’t ever ask.” Most of the time, I assume they are placating me, wondering why the guy who doesn’t know what he’s talking about won’t shut up. Even then, it’s usually one of the other chefs. Not Marty.

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