Page 93 of Faithful

“I am.” He spins us and flops down on one of the sectionals. I fall on top of him, and we are a messy heap of limbs again and his hands are all over me, rubbing my skin.

“You warm now?” he asks several moments later.

“Maybe.”

“Wanna fuck here or upstairs?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really. I’m gonna make you come anyway.” He grins up at me.

It’s quick and loud this time and once we’re sated and showered and back in his bed, Kai hands me several pieces of colored paper that he pulls out from the nightstand drawer (did he actually happen to have them?) and says, “Make me something.”

When I’m halfway through my task, he interrupts it with a whispered question. “Hey, do you ever want to try it without a condom?”

I pause what I’m doing. “Do you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“I would… yes… I do… I guess I should schedule some tests.”

“I’m on PrEP. Been for a while, but I’ll get tests done too.”

“Okay.” I’m excited all of a sudden because this signifies something important. Like commitment.

11 FRACTURE

The next morning when I’m startled awake by the shrill of my phone’s alarm, Kai hardly moves. The only sign of him still being alive is the tiniest reaction to my goodbye kiss as I lean over to brush my lips against his before leaving for work.

There are several paper figures on his nightstand. Two are neat and two are very clumsy. The clumsy ones are the results of his attempts to learn how to make a tulip.

“My mom would like it,” he confessed when I asked him why he wanted me to show him the technique.

“But don’t quit singing.” I pointed out the obvious, gesturing at the crooked monstrosity in his hand.

“Not very encouraging, are you?” He pouted and got back to the task.

That’s how, two days later, I find myself sitting in the living room of a small house in Everett, creating a tulip out of a yellow piece of paper Kai has found somewhere in the pantry.

He’s to my left on the couch, watching me intently as I make a flower for his mother, who’s on my right. Her name is Mina and she’s a small, thin woman with dark hair and big eyes, and she’s in a wheelchair. Which answers my question about Kai’s strange choice of vehicle. I understand now that we’re here why the Dodge Caravan.

It’s Thanksgiving and it’s the first time in my life I’m spending it with another family, however small this family is.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful.” Mina claps her hands when I finish the tulip and give it to her. “Thank you.” She accepts my gift with a smile that’s almost identical to Kai’s except for the slight twist of her mouth on one side that I attribute to her disability (Kai hasn’t told me what it is). She glances at her son next.

Something passes between them. I don’t know what exactly, but I can sense the communication on some other deeper level. Not just via words.

It’s weird, seeing Kai somewhat dressed down and relaxed and at ease around his mother. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to witness this side of him, patient and caring and absolutely adorable, and it goes against everything that he is in my head.

Frankly, I wasn’t certain coming here would be a good idea. He kinda just sprang it on me and I was too excited to consider all the pros and cons of revealing the fact that I’m gay to a complete stranger. I thought about it a lot over the course of the last two days, terrified that Kai’s mother wouldn’t approve of me, but all she said when I walked in through the door of her house was, “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Dylan.” And then she smiled and invited me to join them at the table and give thanks.

So yeah, I was discussed prior to arriving here.

I don’t know how much exactly Mina is privy to since Kai and I had a pretty spotty beginning, the kind you probably wouldn’t tell your parent. But if any of that came up in their conversations, Mina never acknowledges the fact.

Did Kai inherit his steel composure from her?

Is there anything in him that takes after his father at all?

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