Page 42 of Dirty Husband
That's not what Dad's asking. But it's the truest thing I have.
"He does." I let my head fill with thoughts of Shep's deep voice. His cocky smile. His inability to make tea.
"Are you sure?"
Maybe Shep hasn't made me happy yet. And, yes, I'm always going to resent this obligation. But maybe I can appreciate all the perks. Maybe I can focus on all the problems he's solved. It's not a conventional idea of happiness, but it's something. "I am."
"Then I'm happy for you."
* * *
After a short talkabout the virtues of marriage, commitment, and grandchildren (I should wait, but not too long), Dad calls Shepard to the room. Makes him promise to take care of me.
Shep's smile is so broad I almost believe it's real. He beams. Acts every part the doting boyfriend.
Then we leave the room and something changes. He slides his arm around my waist. Pulls me a little closer.
My heart thuds against my chest. His touch is comforting and that's terrifying.
I want his love already.
I have another year of this. A year I have to survive without falling for him.
He doesn't have love to give. He proved that six years ago.
I try to repeat the mantra as we drive home. It's a limo this time, not the helicopter, but it's still fast.
New York is beautiful at night. The illumination of the city kills the stars, but it softens the sky too. Turns it to a shade of blue that only exists here.
The skyline comes into view.
God, I do love this city. I know I shouldn't, as a native Californian. I should hate the snow and the humidity. I should complain about the lack of fresh air and the inferiority to San Francisco.
But I can't. I love New York. I love the hustle, the no-nonsense attitude, the endless possibilities.
I always have, but I haven't thought about it in so long. I've been so busy, so distracted, so overwhelmed.
Living this tiny life. My office in the Financial District. The subway to Dad's hospital room. Three more stops and one long walk to our apartment. Rinse. Repeat.
Now that I have time…
I still can't call this freedom. But I have to admit, I do have possibilities.
I let my mind wander to easier times. Tea at the Japanese Garden in San Francisco. A bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. Dinner in Japantown, at that overpriced Indian place.
Shep laughing at myholy shitreaction to a super spicy dosa.I thought you could take any amount of heat.
An acting class in high school. My theater teacher applauding my monologue. Marveling at the nuance I brought to the character.
We pull into the garage. Take the elevator to Shep's floor. The penthouse, though it's technically the top two floors. The highest is only accessible via the spiral staircase.
It really does feel like a modern castle.
Here, looking at the Hudson, I almost forget I'm in the most populated city in the country. I almost forget I have no choice in this.
Shepard hangs his trench coat on a rack by the door. It's the only hint to his San Francisco side. Or maybe I've watchedVertigotoo many times.
Aren't trench coats from London? Plenty of people wear them here. In early spring, when it's cool and rainy, they fit the bill.
