Page 11 of Everything We Thought Was True
Henry walked up to Frank, an intense look in his eyes. He reached out and cupped his hand around the back of Frank’s neck. Frank leaned into Henry’s hand and slowly rubbed against it. He felt a deep tingling throughout his body and became lightheaded.
“We can’t,” he heard himself say. Frank had buried his true feelings for so many years that it had become a part of him. Denial was in his blood.
“Yes, we can,” Henry whispered. “No one has to know. We both want it. I know that,Frank, and so do you.”
Henry moved even closer and pulled him slowly into the cabin, staring into his eyes, a determined look on his face. Frank vibrated with lust as he followed Henry. He couldn’t focus when the man was this close. Frank felt his body ignite, like it was radiating heat. His thoughts were churning and jumbled, his breath heaving in his chest.
“But... our wives. Our kids—” Frank didn’t finish because Henry put his finger to Frank’s lips.
“Shhh.” Henry’s voice lingered in the sea air, encircling them. “We’re not going to talk about them now. That’s not what matters here. We’re what matters.” He gestured to the two of them and laid his hand over Frank’s chest. Frank felt his skin glow underneath. “We’ve both wanted this for a long time.”
Henry’s eyes were soft, searching Frank’s, their lips only inches apart. He leaned over, closing the space between them, and lightly brushed his lips against Frank’s. At the first touch of Henry’s mouth, Frank’s body went into a kind of shock. It surprised him how soft Henry’s lips—a man’s lips—were.
He’d never kissed a man, although he’d dreamed of it many times before—yearned for it. So many times, Frank had wanted to feel what this was like, to see if his estimate of himself was accurate. These longings, which he’d suppressed for years, now came bubbling to the surface, irrepressible, relentless.He couldn’t deny them anymore.
Frank felt a wave overtake him as he grabbed Henry’s face and kissed him back, giving in completely. Henry ran his hands through Frank’s hair and then slid his arms around his shoulders, pulling Frank tight against him with a suggestion of overwhelming strength. Everything about Henry was alien—he smelled different, his lips were softer than expected, his chest was hard against Frank’s.
His whole body felt as if it had become molten, melded to Henry’s, long-dormant synapses springing to life. Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, his breath rapid. Frank wanted to feel Henry’s skinagainst his, smooth and warm, hard and strong. He wanted to wrap himself completely around Henry.
Frank had tried being what everyone expected of him, so-called normal. But here in the boat cabin, with Henry’s lips on his, with their bodies touching, that was just what struck him—how normal it felt. How effortless and right.
Time stalled. Frank let everything fade into the background. He gave in to what he knew he wanted, and all those other thoughts vanished, and it was just Henry.
The next morning at work, Frank crouched down next to the car he was repairing, hoping he’d find some answers underneath its hood. He gazed absentmindedly at his toolbox, unsure which tool to grab. His hands were shaking. Man, he needed to pull it together. To focus. But he couldn’t get the previous night out of his head. Henry had kissed him. And oh my God, he had kissed Henry back. And Frank wanted to do a lot more than just kiss Henry. He could still feel Henry’s mouth on his. Henry’s tough, sinewy body pressed against his. He thought of Henry’s lips with a flush of heat that might be pleasure or shame. He didn’t want to interrogate himself as to which.
Then he thought of Teresa, and his stomach churned. He worried she could read guilt all over his face and he wouldn’t be able to hide such a monumental shift from her. Because something had altered in the foundation of Frank’s being. He’d finally claimed a piece of himself he’d always suspected was missing but never had the courage to reach for, a piece of the puzzle that made him who he truly was. But that puzzle took him further away from Teresa and his children and the life he’d built and loved. How could he be the man who’d chosen that life, lived it, and kept choosing it because itbrought him joy—and stability and safety—yet still be true to who he was at his core? He couldn’t reconcile it. It was too big. Too much.
He let out a shuddering breath.What on earth have I done? Who have I become?
Frank glanced around guiltily to see if anyone had noticed something different about him and could sense that he, Frank Antinori, was sneaking around with a man. Everyone went about their business as usual, with heads bowed, bodies hidden under cars, music playing, and work continuing. Yet Frank felt like the earth had shifted and he’d entered an alternate universe. And he had a feeling there would be no turning back.
Chapter Six
LENA - ORANGE, CA
June 2015
It was pitch-black in our bedroom, but I was wide-awake. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand and saw the digital display: 4:45 a.m.Fuck.My thoughts somersaulted over each other, competing for the number-one spot. Cases at work normally occupied my mind, but now I had a litany of other items to add to my typical mental clutter. And all of them had to do with my father’s wedding—filling in Kevin, talking to Anthony, wondering what my mom would have thought of it, and of course, planning the actual event.
Kevin slept peacefully beside me. I tried not to resent him for it, but sometimes, I couldn’t help feeling annoyed at his ability to sleep through the night without interruption. Insomnia and I were old friends, and during the hours of sleep deprivation, Kevin’s blissful slumber made me want to jump out of my skin. Not the best recipe for catching some z’s.
Instead of tossing and turning, I went for my morning run earlier than usual. I harnessed Atticus, and he yawned but obliged, thumping his tail rhythmically on the terracotta tiled floor. When Kevin and I bought our home in Orange, I’d used running to acquaint myself with the new neighborhood. I memorized landmarks, learning my way around the antique shops of Old Towne, the ChapmanUniversity campus, and the old Sunkist Exchange Building. I ran in the early morning, when the air was cool and full of the promise of a new day. The sound of my sneakers hitting the ground would measure my progress, while Atticus’s frequent urination marked his.
I ran, craving a release. Two miles, three miles, four. My brain spun. I pushed harder, pumping my arms, my hands in tight fists. I looked at the pearl ring on my right hand—my mother’s ring. A powerful sense of longing hit me. What I really wanted to do was pick up the phone and call her to vent about my father throwing me this curve ball and about how I didn’t want him to make a big to-do of the wedding. If anyone deserved to have gotten married again, it should have been her, not the one who’d screwed up the marriage because he couldn’t stay faithful. I wanted to hear her familiar voice telling me it would all be okay, that yes, my father was being ridiculous by having a wedding at his age, that I was justified for being annoyed, and that helping my father plan his second wedding to his boyfriend was not stabbing her in the back. But the hole in my heart reminded me that there’d be no such phone call.
I sighed, rounding the corner, and our house came into view. I’d hoped the soothing sunrise and meditative sound of my footfalls on the pavement would calm my nerves, but they didn’t. That familiar revved-up feeling was still taking up precious real estate in my body—like blood coursing through my veins in overdrive.Great. Now I’m sleep-deprived and stressed.
I entered the house and unharnessed Atticus, setting him free to drink. While he lapped at his water bowl, I filled a huge glass with water and started downing it at the sink. Kevin strode into the kitchen, saw Atticus and me drinking, and smirked. He always made fun of me for not bringing water on my runs, but I hated carrying anything or wearing a silly-looking fanny pack. I came up for air, taking a break from rehydrating. Kevin planted a good-morning kiss on my lips, and I breathed in his freshly showeredscent. He was dressed for work in the crisp blue-and-white-striped button-down shirt I’d bought him for Christmas. His shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing the golden hairs of his forearms set against his tanned skin. Kevin exuded a Southern California beach vibe that my dark features, thick mane of unruly curls, and olive-toned skin could never naturally achieve.
I knew I had to fill him in on the news, though it felt surreal to even think of telling Kevin about my father’s upcoming nuptials.No time like the present.
“Okay, are you ready for this?” I asked.
He nodded and leaned forward.
I had to just spit it out. “My dad called last night. He wants to get married. To Oliver. This October.”
“What? Wow, that’s amazing,” Kevin said.
