I'm Your Man (12 page)

“My mother had surgery,” I said. “Were you visiting someone at the hospital?”

“Just delivering a power of attorney to a client,” she said. “Is your mother okay?” When I nodded, she went on. “It's great to see you. I was sorry to hear that you and Daniel are having problems. Has that gotten better?”

“We broke up,” I said, unsure of what she knew.

“You'll get back together. You two are meant for each other,” she said casually. “How long will you be in town? Where are you staying? At your family's house?”

“No. With Adam Wilson. I was just about to call him to pick me up.”

“Don't do that. I'll give you a ride. It'll give us a chance to talk.” She caught me up on Stephenson family news as I walked with her to her red Jeep Cherokee.

“New wheels, huh?” I asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I promised myself the first thing I'd do when I got a job was get rid of that piece of crap I had since high school.”

“I can't believe that Gremlin didn't explode years ago. Congratulations on the job. Daniel was surprised that you took their offer. He figured you'd go with a larger firm in Minneapolis or Milwaukee.”

“It suited my needs. Bigger fish in a little pond.”

“That's the same thing I did when I started out. In advertising, of course, not law. Do you like it? Are you happy where you are?”

“For now. Hey, I heard about Sheila's wedding. It's going to be quite an event, isn't it?”

“All I know is that they've set the date in July. She's probably got Daniel right in the middle of making plans though, huh?”

Gwendy gave me a funny look and said, “It's so strange to think of you two apart. Okay, I'll shut up. Sheila has decided on a theme wedding. They've hired a full orchestra to play big band songs, and she wants everyone, even the guests, to dress in vintage forties clothes. Or at least reproductions. She wants it to be like a set from some old Cary Grant or Fred Astaire movie. You know, the men all in tuxes and tails, the women in silk and chiffon.”

“Leave it to Sheila,” I said, trying to picture either the sturdy Gretchen or the kaleidoscopically coifed Blythe in chiffon and fuck-me pumps jitterbugging to Glenn Miller. Or whatever dances they did in the forties. With Sheila's penchant for theme parties, no doubt we were all expected to take dance lessons before July.

I lost the thread of Gwendy's conversation as I pictured Daniel and me dancing across a ballroom floor in tails, with some great old Cole Porter classic being played in the background: “You're the Top,” “Easy to Love,” “You Do Something to Me.”

I rolled my eyes, thinking it was more likely that the two of us would glower at each other from across the room while the band played “Don't Fence Me In” or “After You, Who?”

“Is anybody home?” Gwendy asked, pulling into Adam's circular drive.

“If they aren't, I know where the key is hidden,” I said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Do you know how long you'll be in town?”

“Just a couple of days. I have to get back; I've got a lot going on at work.”

“I hope everything goes well with your mother.”

“Thanks. Give my best to your family.” I hugged her and got out of the car.

Just before she pulled away, she rolled down her window and called, “Don't forget what I said. You two are meant to be together!”

I shook my head and waved goodbye.

W
hen no one came to Adam's door after I knocked, I walked around back. Adam had recently installed a new deck, and Jeremy was propped on a railing, his legs wrapped around Adam's waist as Adam rested his arms on Jeremy's shoulders while they kissed. With the snow-dusted trees and fields behind them, they looked like a gay travel brochure. I had to admit that they were a good-looking couple. But it was Jeremy that I studied momentarily as I thought about the common ground between us. We were both ex-boyfriends of Daniel Stephenson.

The similarities ended there. He was an actor and a teacher; I was a businessman. He was inclined to be expressive and emotional; my feelings ran deeply, but I tended to keep them to myself. On the other hand, although Jeremy had a good sense of humor, sometimes he couldn't laugh at himself, and I considered that ability to be one of my virtues.

Physically, I was muscular, with dark hair and green eyes. Jeremy was about my height, but had a swimmer's build, with an angular jaw and the fair, light-haired attributes he'd inherited from his northern Italian family.

“You two can stop that crap right now,” I said. “I'm in no mood for love.”

Adam laughed and pulled away. Jeremy jumped down from his perch and met me at the top step with a hug. “Believe me, nobody understands how you feel better than I do,” he said.

“Totally different situation,” I said.

“Yeah, last time I was the idiot. This time Daniel is. All right, that's my last word on the subject.”

“For ten minutes,” Adam said, ruffling Jeremy's blond hair. “How's your mother?”

“Well sedated. I'm jealous. She came through the surgery fine.”

“That's good. Your stuff is in your room. We're on country hours here, so dinner will be at six. How'd you get home?”

“I ran into Gwendy Stephenson. She gave me a ride.”

“Huh,” Jeremy said.

“You promised,” I reminded him.

“I didn't say anything!”

We walked inside as Adam said, “I invited Jake to dinner. I figured he'd help stifle any Daniel discussions.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I haven't seen him since our Christmas ski trip. And now, Jeremy, I'll make your vow of silence easier and clean up before dinner.”

After Jake arrived, he and Adam began their usual litany of sports chat. When they got into a heated discussion about the basketball playoffs, Jeremy fled to the kitchen faster than you could say “jump shot.” I made myself another drink, content to sit back and pretend to listen. My interest in sports had waned when I graduated from high school and no longer needed them to gain acceptance. I wasn't worried that I'd be forced to join their conversation. Adam would never give me a chance to remind him that I'd broken all the high school football records he'd set five years ahead of me.

While they talked, I scrutinized Jake, wondering why he was still single. He'd definitely be a catch for anyone, man or woman. He was the male version of Sheila—tall, blond, wholesome, and straight. I liked him for all the same reasons I liked Josh. He accepted people for who they were, and was himself no matter what company he was in.

Jake had been the first person I'd told that I was gay, and I only did that when Sheila came to live with me, so he wouldn't think I was taking advantage of his little sister. I remembered how tense that time had been.

Sheila had turned up at my Hell's Kitchen apartment without warning, expecting to see Sydney with me. No one knew we were separated, because Sydney was afraid if her father found out, he would make her move back home. I made up a story for Sheila about how Sydney had been accepted to an art school in Chicago, and we commuted to see each other. Sheila didn't need much convincing. Not only did she and Sydney no longer get along, but Sheila was afraid of how her family would react to her taking off without telling them. She wanted me as an ally. As soon as I realized what she'd done, I made her call home to let them know where she was. Her parents were furious.

The day after Sheila's arrival, the Breslin Evans receptionist, Mitzi, buzzed me to tell me that Jake Meyers was there to see me. My relief that it wasn't Sheila's father dissipated when I saw Jake's expression. I left orders not to be disturbed and closed my office door with trepidation.

“My parents sent me to get Sheila, but I don't know how to find her,” Jake said. “What the hell is going on, Blaine? You dumped my sister years ago to marry Sydney, and now Sheila's here, and Sydney isn't? You've got five minutes to tell me why I shouldn't deck you.”

“It's not how it looks. I had no idea Sheila was coming. But she's twenty-two years old, Jake, and capable of making her own decisions. Not one of which, I promise, has anything to do with me. I'm just a port in a storm. If you drag her back home, she'll leave again. At least with me, she's safe.”

“You're a married man. She can't stay here with you.”

“Nobody knows this, and I'm only telling you because I know you'll keep it to yourself, but Sydney and I are separated.”

Jake glared at me and said, “That's supposed to make it better?”

“There's nothing going on between Sheila and me. There won't be.”

“Right. She's a beautiful young woman who's been in love with you since she was what, eleven? How stupid do you think I am?”

I knew I had to diffuse his anger. I could think of only one sure way, and I decided to do it even if it cost me his friendship. “Jake, I'm not going to take advantage of Sheila. I'm gay.”

He blinked at me and finally said, “You're not lying, are you?”

“No,” I said. He sat down as if the wind had been knocked out of him and stared at me for a few minutes. “Go ahead and say whatever's on your mind. I've had this conversation with you in my head a thousand times, and it never turns out good.”

“Jesus, Blaine. You're my best friend. What do you think I'm going to say?”

“I honestly don't know.”

“Sit down. Talk to me.”

It had been such a relief to admit the truth to someone else, and Jake listened in silence while I described how long and hard I'd fought this essential fact about myself. It helped that I didn't have to explain why Sydney and my parents couldn't know. It also helped that Jake had other gay friends and didn't ask me stupid questions that I probably couldn't have answered anyway.

Telling Jake had ended up being one of the most liberating experiences of my life. We'd even been able to laugh about some of the awkward situations my secret had created for me. By the time I rode with him to the airport that night, after a good dinner and a few drinks, Jake was sure he'd be able to handle his parents.

And he had. Sheila never found out he'd been there. Jake kept my secrets. All of them. Even from his sister.

I realized that Adam and Jake were staring at me.

“What?” I asked.

“How's the Apple Dunhill Gang?” Jake repeated.

I filled him in on my mother's condition. He knew better than to ask questions about my father or brothers. Nor did he put me on the spot about Daniel. He already knew my perspective on things, since he'd been the only person I'd felt like I could talk to after the breakup. Since then, I figured Sheila had given him her side of the story, which meant he probably knew more about how Daniel was taking things than I did. The same was true of Adam and Jeremy, but at least with Jake, there was no question of divided loyalties. It might be interesting to hear what Sheila had told him. But definitely not when Jeremy was around.

It was Jeremy, however, who gave me a little surprise while we were eating dinner. I asked him some questions about how his work was going, and I watched his expressive face as he seemed to go through some kind of inner struggle before reaching a decision.

“You know part of my program involves outreach to the public schools,” Jeremy said. “Using acting to help teens express some of the stuff they're working through.”

“Yes.”

“One of your nephews recently joined my group. Nicky.”

“Really? He
is
the problem child, so I guess I'm not surprised. I would have thought he was too bashful to get into acting, though.”

Jeremy shrugged and said, “He's a good kid. He seems to really enjoy himself.”

Later that evening, when Adam ever-so-tactfully said he had a Web project to work on, and Jeremy a little less tactfully made himself scarce, Jake and I sat in front of the fireplace and caught up. He shook his head when I told him about my brothers' reactions to the little bomb I'd dropped on them.

“Typical, huh? Shane takes it personally, and Wayne just wants to build a bomb shelter and stick you in it.”

“I know he's going to make newspaper headlines someday,” I said.

“He's harmless,” Jake assured me. “We've all got one in our families.”

“Yeah? Who's yours? Sheila?”

We laughed, then his face grew serious. “Sheila says Daniel's torn up about this, Blaine. It's been, what, nearly three months since you broke up? Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I've thought about it. I'm not as angry as I was. But it's hard to forget the things we said the last time we spoke. I know if we could get past that, it would make things easier on our friends. But I guess that's not my biggest priority right now.”

“Your friends will survive,” Jake said with a shrug. “You'll know when the time is right.” After a long silence, he asked, “What is your biggest priority right now? It's obvious you've got something on your mind.”

I laughed and said, “I'm worse than a teenage girl asking all her friends for advice.” I told him about Gretchen's proposition and what Adam and Josh had to say on the subject.

I barely had time to take a breath before Jake said, “Do it.”

“You don't even have to think about it?” I asked.

“Blaine, I've known you all our lives. You've always wanted kids, and it's obvious you and Gretchen care about and trust each other. I don't know why you're hesitating.”

“It bothers me that Adam thinks it's a bad idea,” I said. “I respect him, so his opinion matters to me.”

“Adam said
he
wouldn't do it. He's not you. He's happy with his life the way it is.”

“It's my family,” I finally admitted. “It's not like I had good role models. What if I end up like my parents? I wouldn't want to make a child feel unloved.”

Jake shook his head and said, “Haven't you figured out what's wrong in your family? It's not that they don't love you.”

“It's not?” I asked.

“No. It's that they never let you love them. You've got so much to give. You'll be a great father.”

“Thank you,” I said, impressed as always by the way Jake could say the right thing.

After he was gone, I called the hospital and checked on my mother, then sat in front of the television in a stupor. It had been a long day. I dozed off; when I opened my eyes, Jeremy was standing in front of me with a glass of water in his hand.

“I was about to go to bed,” he said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I'm good. I just need to haul myself upstairs.”

I was too tired to think about the times Daniel and I had shared the guest room. I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But sometime later, I awoke, feeling disoriented. After I remembered where I was, I could hear muffled voices from Adam's room.

I turned over and pulled a pillow over my head. The sounds of lovemaking couldn't have made me feel anywhere near as jealous as the comfortable intimacy of a couple talking just before they fell asleep. My need of Daniel gnawed at me, and I finally uncovered my head and fumbled in the dark until I found my cell phone. Gretchen answered a little sleepily on the third ring.

“I know it's late, and I'm sure I woke you. But we have to talk.”

“It's okay,” she said, sounding a bit more alert.

I told her about my day, focusing on the emotional turmoil my family caused me. “You might want to reconsider the gene pool you're diving into,” I finally said.

“Are you telling me yes?” Gretchen asked.

I realized that I'd been asking myself that same question for days. Whether I was at work, the gym, home in New York, or revisiting my past in Wisconsin, I was constantly looking at my life and the world through a father's eyes, wondering if having a child with Gretchen was the right thing for me to do. My head, heart, and gut all pointed to the same answer. I took a deep breath and said, “I am telling you yes. Yes. It just feels right. Does that make sense?” She didn't say anything, and I thought I heard her sniff. “Are you crying?”

“A little. With relief. I was worried you might say no, even though I had a feeling you'd say yes,” Gretchen said. “Can I just tell you how happy you've made me? We'll talk about all the details when you get back to Manhattan.”

“Okay. I'm sorry I woke you up.”

“I'm not,” she said with a laugh. “The bars are still open. I'm going out to get hammered.”

“Isn't it kind of late? Don't you have to work tomorrow?”

“So? It could be years before I can get drunk again. I want to get it in while there's still time.”

“If we were talking about contraception, that could be the new slogan for—”

“The sponge: because I want to get it in while there's still time,”
Gretchen interrupted, her voice serene and breathy like Sheila's in the Autumn Dusk commercials she'd done early in her modeling career. She'd forbidden her friends to mention the douche product in her presence, which provoked a puerile desire in us to bring it up whenever we could.