Page 97 of The Jock
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What doyou think about this one, Dad?”
Nick poked his head into the second spare bedroom, then crossed to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony that ran the width of the entire apartment. The unit was in an ultramodern high-rise downtown. From the balcony, he could see Sixth Street and the bars and music halls, and the river and the greenbelt beyond. At night, the city would spread out like glitter, surrounded by a river of midnight as the landscape turned to country and rolling hills.
“I like it.”
They’d looked at apartments all morning, from suburban complexes near the train line to units just outside downtown. This was the only one that actually was downtown. It was totally different from anything else they’d seen, and different in every way from the house that Nick had shared with Cynthia, the house Justin had grown up in. No granite counters or shiny wood floors. Here the floors and walls were expanses of polished concrete, and stainless steel counters and cupboards lined the kitchen.
The rental agent gave him the pricing details again, then stood back and let him poke into closets and open and close drawers in the bathrooms and kitchens. Could he live here? It would feel empty when he was alone, but maybe Justin and Wes would come over for a break from their dorms. He was looking for a three-bedroom apartment specifically so they’d have a place to stay, if they wanted to. And when they weren’t over, he could sit on the balcony and enjoy the view. Or he could go out himself. Walk to the bars or the live music lounges. Maybe, one day, he’d even meet someone.
That thought was too new, too raw, to hold on to. He let it go, focusing instead on Justin and Wes coming to visit. He could grill on the balcony. Maybe they’d watch football on Sundays. Justin and he could finally enjoy a game together. He’d wanted to have that father-son moment with Justin since Justin was old enough to toddle around after him.
What did Justin envision? What did he want from Nick, now that they were actually building a real relationship?
There was so much he didn’t know about his son that he desperately wanted to. What did Justin do for fun? What filled up his days and his weekends? Why had he picked nursing as his major? What did he imagine his life would look like?
This was the closest apartment to campus—a ten-minute walk. It was the most expensive he’d looked at, but what did that matter if it meant Justin and Wes could stop by, pop in, hang out? If he could see Justin more, it didn’t matter what the place cost. He’d empty his bank account in a heartbeat.
“I’ll take it.” He smiled at the rental agent, a young brunette with a gorgeous smile and a body he’d have had a hard time dragging his eyes away from when he was younger. “When can I move in?”
“You can move in today, if you’d like.” She smiled. “Let’s get you the keys to your new home, Mr. Swanscott.”
After he signed the lease agreement, Nick took Justin to lunch. Before Nick could bring up how close he was to campus, Justin did himself. “I could walk to see you. You know, if you wanted me to.”
“Come over anytime.” He smiled as he poured ketchup on the plate for his fries. “In fact, why don’t you and Wes set up the third bedroom as your own? I got it so that you guys could come over whenever you wanted.”
Justin grinned. “Can I help you decorate the rest of the place, too?”
“You like interior design?”
“Dad, I’m gay.” Justin gave him a look before he bit into his club sandwich. “It’s in my DNA.”
He laughed. “Well, I’m not bringing any furniture down. I was going to start over with everything brand new. I was just going to swing through Ikea, but—”
“Please. No. We can do better than that.”
Another laugh. “All right, let’s do it. You can teach me a few things. Or you can try. I might be too old.”
“Hardly.” Justin rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re never too old for good taste. First step, redo your apartment. Second step, redo your wardrobe.” He arched an eyebrow. It was, Nick noticed, perfectly sculpted.
“I’m game. I’m up for new things. And I want to spend more time with you and get to know the things you like. Fashion? Interior design? What else?” He munched a handful of fries as Justin’s eyes widened.
“Uhh… Just stuff, you know.”
“I don’t. I don’t think I know you that well. I want to fix that. Tell me: what do you like? What do you do for fun?”
Justin set his sandwich down and wiped his fingers. He took his time answering, sipping his beer and then straightening the bottle on the table. “I dance, still,” he finally said. His voice was soft. “I was doing modern dance, but… Wes took me to the ballet in Paris. He told me I should try it myself. I signed up for a ballet class this semester.”
“You’ve been dancing since high school?”
“Yeah. I never stopped after drill team.”
“I never knew that.”
“I know,” Justin said softly. “That wasn’t an accident.”
Nick stared down at the ketchup slowly separating on his plate. Why hadn’t Justin wanted him to know? His son was, in some ways, a stranger to him. That thought hurt, like someone had reached into him and seized hold, closed a fist around his heart and wrung it out like a sponge. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Tell me about this ballet class. What do you learn?”
