Page 22 of The Swap
A cold chill swept down my spine as he went on to warn all young men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five to be cautious, avoid traveling anywhere alone after dark and to always be aware of their surroundings. My thoughts immediately flew to Oliver and the way he’d looked at me last night, so trusting and warm. I clamped down on those thoughts immediately, the possibility of anyone hurting him too painful to even think about.
A criminal psychologist was brought in to discuss the psychology behind strangulation murders. She explained that as a general rule, strangulation was a very personal way of murdering someone and oftentimes the murderer wound up being someone the victim knew intimately. She began discussing how strangulation differed from other murders such as a shooting, because strangling someone required the killer to be up close, often looking straight in their victim’s eyes as the life bled out of them.
Another chill swept through my body and I was glad when Gayle switched the TV off. Still, I vowed to contact Oliver as soon as I was finished there so I could make sure he was aware of the danger within our city. Not that crime wasn’t always a worry, but this particular person seemed to take a liking to men the same age and build as Oliver.
Gayle brought over a bowl of fresh, hot eggs and we settled in at the table. We made small talk as we ate, discussing work and how Brooklyn sounded the last time we’d each talked with her.
“So, I’ve met someone,” we both said at the same time. We stared at each other with wide eyes for a second or two and then we burst out in a fit of laughter.
“Come on, I want all the details. What’s her name? What’s she like?” Gayle asked, resting her chin in her hands and staring at me excitedly.
“No. You first,” I insisted, feeling like a bit of a coward.
“Okay,” she said, laying her hands flat on the table and taking a deep breath. “His name is Andrew and we met at the second swap party. He was there alone, and we got to talking. He’s an architect and widower. His wife passed away four years ago, and he’d tried all the dating apps and going to singles meet and greets. Finally, a friend invited him to a swap party and that’s where we met.”
Her smile had grown as she spoke about him and her eyes had a light shining in them that I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say she was falling for him hard, if she hadn’t already.
“Does he have any children?”
Gayle shook her head. “No. He and his wife weren’t able to have any, but I’ve told him all about Brooklyn and he’s eager to meet her.”
“He sounds wonderful. I’d love to meet him sometime, when you’re ready,” I said.
“Really?”
“Of course. You’ve got incredible instincts. Besides, anyone who can put that look on your face must be pretty special.”
“Well, it’s still really early. We agreed to take our time getting to know each other.”
“I’m happy for you,” I said honestly.
Gayle’s smile grew watery. “Thank you, Sam. That’s important to me.You’reimportant to me.”
I pulled her in for a hug and kissed her cheek. “I know and you’re just as important to me. That’ll never change,” I promised.
Gayle wiped at her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry, I guess I was more worried about telling you than I realized.”
“Believe me, I get it,” I told her. Never one to miss anything, she tilted her head at me and narrowed her eyes.
“You seem a little on edge. What’s going on?”
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out where to begin. One of the things I’d always liked about Gayle was that she never pushed. She’d ask a question and then wait patiently until I was ready to answer. I’d never appreciated that trait more than I did right then. Taking a deep breath, I decided to just dive right in.
“So, like I said, I’ve met someone. We met at the first party and it’s just grown from there. We’ve had dinner together a few times and spent a lot of time talking on the phone and texting. Like you and Andrew, it’s still pretty early, but I really like…him.”
I stared down at my hands twisted in my lap, unable to meet her gaze. It was completely silent for all of two heartbeats and then Gayle spoke gently. “What’s his name? Tell me everything.”
I looked back up at her, blinking quickly as my eyes suddenly began to fill with tears. Until that moment, I hadn’t given much thought to just how important her reaction would be to me. How could it not? Gayle had been my best friend, my confidant, and my rock for almost twenty years. Nearly half my life. Even when our families turned their backs on us, we’d stood by each other’s sides, never faltering from what we believed was the right thing to do. Of course, her acceptance would be important to me. Not only her acceptance of me as a bisexual man, but of any future relationships I may have.
We continued talking for another hour or two. Gayle asked questions and I answered them as openly and honestly as I could. I told her all about Oliver, although I left out some of the juicer bits. She seemed impressed that he was a model but was more interested in how he treated me and the way he made me feel, some of which I didn’t have words for yet.
As we cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher, we talked about how and where we would tell Brooklyn what was going on. Neither one of us were looking forward to that conversation, but she was coming home for a visit the following weekend. We knew we wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that I was no longer living there, nor did we want to. We were both eager to start the next chapter of our lives.
In the end, we decided to treat this like we had everything else from the moment we found out she’d been conceived. We’d do it together and with as much kindness and compassion as possible.
