Page 35 of When He Saved Me
“I’m starving. Let’s eat!”
CHAPTER18
FINN
We ateour pizza in the living room, the box resting on the coffee table between us. Jamie’s mom—she insisted I call her Annie—joined us for a slice. I ate quietly, marveling at the simplicity of eating in the living room and enjoying how their conversation flowed so easily. My mother would have lost her shit had we ever dared to bring food into her pristine living room, yet Jamie’s mom sat on the couch with us, eating straight out of the box, forgoing plates.
They talked about his finals—the ones he’d taken so far and the one he still had to take—and spoke about Christmas shopping and family gossip. Aunt Cathy had texted to say she’d successfully gotten out of jury duty, so she would be able to come over on Wednesday while Jamie took his last final. Cody had a basketball game coming up on Thursday and Ashley was singing at Crown Center with her high school choir on Friday. With Annie’s weakened immune system, it wasn’t safe for her to be out in the crowds, and she and Jamie both seemed bummed to miss it, so I offered to come over and hang with her on Friday while Jamie FaceTimed the concert to us. I had a gig on Thursday night, so I couldn’t do anything about the basketball game, but I had a window of time between my shift at The Daily Grind and my gig at Ivory on Friday, so I could help during that time.
They both seemed reluctant to accept my offer, but in the end, they conceded. The truth was, I’d enjoyed spending time with Annie today. In all the time no one had been looking out for me, I’d not had anyone to look out for as well. It felt good to be able to give that to someone. Not just because I wanted to help Jamie but because I wanted to help Annie as well. I was no longer content to sit idly on the sidelines of my own life. I wanted to be an active participant. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to be needed. I wanted to care.
Had they begun to care for me as well?
After dinner, Jamie’s mom retired, saying she wanted to read a bit before bed, so while Jamie settled her in her room, I cleaned up the boxes and wiped down the coffee table, making sure not to leave stray crumbs. Jamie returned just as I was finishing up and grabbed my hand, tugging me down the hall to his room.
He closed the door behind us and crossed to the bed, pulling me down with him. We lay on our sides facing each other, one of his legs thrown over mine, his hand laying loosely on my hip. He stared at me intently, his moss-green eyes laser-focused on me as if searching for something. It was such a serious look on a face usually so merry. I could feel my cheeks heat under his scrutiny.
At length, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It was a sweet kiss, with just a brush of his tongue against mine, before he pulled away to turn that intense gaze on me again.
“What?” I asked, unable to take the silence any longer.
He reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together. He finally tore his gaze away from mine to look down at our joined hands. I followed his gaze and watched as he slid his thumb up and down over mine, savoring his touch. His eyes slid back to mine as he said, “I just…I was just wondering what changed…”
“What do you mean?” I asked though I had a feeling I knew.
He pulled our clasped hands up so they were folded against us, sandwiched between our chests. He smiled a little as he said, “You just seem…lighter tonight, flirting and making out with me—”
“Making out? Are we teenagers now?” I interrupted, choosing to ignore the rest of what he’d said. I was deflecting, and we both knew it.
“You rode me, and then I jerked you off until you came all over me. Call it whatever you want, but we basically humped each other like teenagers, so I’m going to call it making out.” I chuckled as he waggled his eyebrows before continuing. “Man, don’t get me wrong, I love seeing this side of you. I love seeing you smile.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across my lips before taking my hand in his grasp again. “But if I’m being totally honest here, I’m scared to trust it. What made you open up with me and what if you shut down again?”
His wide green eyes were open with so much vulnerability that I nearly collapsed under the weight of it. I’d made him scared to trust me. The world hadn’t given me a reason to trust feelings given so freely, and so I’d dulled just a little bit of his shine, and I hated it. He didn’t deserve that, yet a part of me was relieved to know I wasn’t the only one in it. I wasn’t the only one fighting my way through the muck of complicated feelings.
I wasn’t the only one afraid.
I knew I owed him an answer or at least some sort of explanation, but talking about my feelings was hard as fuck. Writing was better, but I had to learn to verbalize these things. I couldn’t press pause on a conversation so I could quickly grab my journal and write that shit out.
“How did your parents take it when you came out?”
His forehead wrinkled at the seemingly unrelated question. “My dad died when I was ten, so I never got the chance to tell him, but my mom gave me a hug and then three days later cornered me into an embarrassing lecture about condoms and lube. Turns out, after I announced Asher and I were dating, she’d done a bunch of research and felt like I needed to have ‘the talk’ again, only this time the gay version.” He chuckled. “Lucky me, I got to have the sex talk twice.”
I tried to muster a smile, but I must not have been successful because his face fell. I couldn’t bear to look at him for this next part, so I rolled over, turning away from him. He didn’t let me get too far, pulling me back against him, the little spoon to his larger one. He lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. “I’m guessing it didn’t go so well for you,” he said softly.
“No, but it’s not exactly what you think. My parents weren’t homophobic so much as they were afraid of howmysexuality might makethemlook. They couldn’t care less who I fucked, as long as it didn’t reflect poorly on them. I never got a sex talk other than my dad tossing me a box of condoms and telling me I damn well better not get a girl pregnant. I was fifteen and had known for years I was gay, but I didn’t bother correcting his assumption that I was straight.” I paused, waiting to see how Jamie would respond, but when he didn’t say anything, I took a breath and continued, “The day after graduation, I told my parents I was gay. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. The only people who knew at that point were my best friend, Carmen, and this kid I’d kissed once, who was very, very closeted. He was a couple of years older than me, and after he graduated, I didn’t mess with anyone after that.” Jamie said nothing but started pressing small kisses to my head, neck, and shoulder as I talked.
“Anyway, we were sitting at dinner in our formal dining room, just the three of us, which was unusual because they rarely bothered to dine with me, but for whatever reason, we were eating together, only it was as if I wasn’t even there. They were talking around me and over me aboutmycollege plans as if I wasn’t sitting right there next to them. They’d chosen the college. They’d chosen the major. And they hadn’t bothered to ask for my opinion on any of it. I’d gone along with all of it. Written the essays and applied to the colleges they wanted. Declared a respectable major. Earned academic scholarships, even though they could pay every cent on their own. I’d gone along with all of it. It’s what I’d always done. At least it was what I’d done when they bothered to pay me any attention at all.
“So in the middle of dinner, three bites into my braised beef risotto, as my parents debated the merits of me rooming with Henry Davidson, whose father was a partner in my dad’s firm, or with Edward Helzberg, whose mother was a partner in my dad’s rival firm, I calmly put my fork down, announced I didn’t think Henry or Edward would be comfortable with a gay roommate, and declared that I would not be attending Northwestern to pursue pre-law in the fall.”
Jamie stopped kissing me, instead resting his chin on my shoulder and squeezing me tightly as I continued. Now that the words had started, I couldn’t even begin to stop them.
“There was a lot of yelling. Mostly at me, but some directed at each other, as if one of them held some sort of responsibility for ‘making me this way.’ They didn’t bother to ask me to explain myself. Nothing I had ever said mattered, so why would this be any different? Eventually, I got up and walked out without a backward glance. I spent the night at Carmen’s, unable to stand the thought of a night spent getting yelled at or, worse, suffering their cold indifference. When I returned the next day, they’d changed the locks and refused to let me in. My father opened the door long enough to tell me I was to get my shit together and toe the line, or they’d cut me off.
“I’d like to say I held strong to my convictions, but I did consider going back and playing by their rules. As much as I hated the world I was brought up in, I hadn’t known anything else. I had no idea what else I might make of my life. I just knew I didn’t want to be their puppet any longer. But it was the idea of going back in the closet that ultimately made my decision. I refused to turn back and deny that part of myself any longer. The housekeeper, who’d always been more like a mom to me than my own mother, snuck me back into the house while my parents were out later that evening so I could grab a few of my things. I made it out with a backpack full of clothes, my keyboard, some sheet music, and a couple of notebooks. Oh, and my Jeep.” I shrugged as if any of that was as simple as asking whether I preferred pepperoni on my pizza. “I haven’t spoken to them since.”
He was silent for a while. I assumed he was processing the shit show I’d just dumped on him. It was so different from his own family that I couldn’t begin to imagine what he must think about mine.
“You’re amazing,” he said at last, his voice low next to my ear.
