by Joe Satoria
He placed his cutlery down and put a hand on Spencer’s thigh. “I mean, we’re supposed to have been together for months,” he replied. “So, while we’re here, if you want, I can get down on one knee and overshadow a pregnancy.”
That was just it, Spencer had never told a boy he’d loved them before, he’d never told one he liked them with enough force for it to stick before. And now, he was being asked for his thoughts on a fake engagement. “This is all fake, still, until we—until we—”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “When we’re back I want to date you so hard.”
He nodded back, his breath coming back to him. “We live together, but alright.”
“I can move out, if you want,” he said. “I’ve only been there a month.”
Spencer knew Gio had only been at the house for a month, and in that month so much had changed, he went from lusting over him like a lovesick puppy to getting over his macho man presence.
“No,” Spencer said. “I just think this might be the weirdest way to start a relationship.”
“All the happy couples,” Colleen let out with a large roar of laughter. “Except for you Auntie Di, never will marry, or you Auntie Bev, divorcee, that could never be me.” She continued in her tirade of laughter, swigging back the last of the liquid in her glass.
Spencer looked Gio in his wide contrasted white eyes, he shook his head. “Well,” he began, his eyes growing wider. “You might understand why I’ve got a complex about relationships.”
Gio smiled, it was starting to feel a little bit more like what he was used to, with the loud family gatherings as everyone clamoured over each other to speak and grab at different food from the table.
Mr Grant was in his own space, grumbling and muttering to himself as he spooned large forkfuls of food into his mouth almost like it was going out of fashion. His fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, clumping them together to pile the food like small mountains.
Mrs Grant, while beside her husband, was in a space of their own, they weren’t really speaking, but she was still contributing to his mutterings as she smiled widely and somewhat maniacally to everything that was happening.
“You should come to the wedding as well,” Tina said across the table to Gio.
“Me?” he asked, dipping his chin to hide his mouth as he finished chewing. “Your wedding?” he looked to Spencer, they had discussed it in the car journey, and it was defined in no uncertain terms that he would not be allowed to accept the invite.
“Gio’s quite busy,” Spencer said. “It’s quite short notice too, so—”
“Oh,” Tina appeared in shock, trying to fathom someone not wanting to accept an invite to the wedding. “Well, it is going to be a little bit smaller now, because of the baby and everything and we’ve got to cut the costs somewhere.” She continued as Spencer and Gio nodded.
“At least think about it,” Jack let out, coming to his fiancée’s aide. “I mean, it’ll be mostly family now, with some close friends.”
Spencer hooked Gio’s leg beside him. “Sure,” he said. “Send me the new date and we’ll both be there.”
“Mean it?” Gio turned to whisper back at him.
“Yeah, well—” he looked to his family around the table, but none of them were interested in listening to them talk in their hushed voices anyway. “Supposing you want to come.”
Gio smiled back. “I’ll need a new suit, and I’ll have to buy a gift.”
Spencer’s grip on Gio’s leg grew firmer. “Gift cards.”
Diane’s voice grew louder from the end of the table, her words growing to a slur as she shouted. “Is a good food you’ve done here Rhi.” She waved her empty wine glass in the air. “Can we get a lit—little tipple top up?”
“Bleedin’ had enough,” Grandma Nora chimed in, “right, which one of ye is gonna get me a cig, I’m stuffed to my tits.”
“Mother,” Mrs Grant said, softly. “Wait a minute, I’ll get dessert.”
“Dessert,” Nora grumbled, her shaking hand grabbing at the lip of her half-full plate. “I don’t—I’m not—you’ll not get me fat like that.” She nodded across at Beverly and Frank.
“Fat,” Frank laughed, slapping a hand against his pot belly.
“I’m not,” Bev scoffed. “I’m going through a divorce, and I have my little Queenie.” She held the small French bulldog to her face as it licked at her lipstick.
Diane pressed her lips to the empty wine glass. “Like three years ago,” she murmured to herself.
Mrs Grant looked to her son and Gio. “Are you finished?” she asked, breaking focus from the squabble.
Spencer hadn’t eaten his usual fare in food, not while sitting beside Gio, there was a nervous bubble in his chest while he was eating, the nerves wondering whether or not he was going to be having sex, and if he was, he didn’t want to take any chances.
NINE
As dessert was called, they began to clear away dinner pots and plates from the table to make room on the table and in their stomachs for the selection of desserts Mrs Grant had bought and crafted. While that happened, Spencer found himself back in his childhood bedroom, laid on the bed staring at the ceiling.
“Wondered where you’d disappeared to,” Giovanni said from the doorway.
Spencer didn’t look away. “Crazy, right?”
“They’re active,” he answered, sitting on the bedside, his weight pulling slightly at Spencer. “But they’re fun, and you only see them once a year.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“Doesn’t sound fun,” he snickered, stretching out beside him on the bed. “What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about what this is, then I started to think about all the times I saw you with Ellie, and now I’m wondering about what this means, and I never take signs, so I’m wondering if there’s a sign and should I take it?”
Gio smirked, turning his head to look at Spencer. “You know, I’ve never been with a guy, but I’ve kissed guys, I consider myself straight, I did—I—this is new to me, I’ve never acted on it. Guess that makes me bisexual, or flexible.”
“Don’t have to label yourself for me,” he replied with a smile. “I hate being the gay son, the gay friend. It’s annoying, as if you have to warn people.”
Gio grabbed at Spencer’s hand, squeezing it tight. “If you’re looking for a sign,” he said, his other hand stroking at the side of Spencer’s cheek, turning his face. “This is it.”
As signs went, this pulled a heavy weight from Spencer’s chest. “Let’s go down for dessert,” he said, rolling away from the side of the bed.
“No, wait,” Gio said, pawing a hand at the duvet. “Every moment alone with you is a moment I feel something I’ve never felt before.”
“I want you to know, you’re very emotional, and I’m very—British,” Spencer stood at the side of the bed, smiling. “You won’t see me emotional unless I’ve had a drink.”
“Well then, have a bit more to drink,” he said, “I’ll stay sober so I can drive.” Spencer offered a hand. Gio pulled him back to the bed.
“You’re missing your Christmas experience,” he said. “They’re going to have eaten all the good desserts if we’re not down soon.”
“And you’re missing the boyfriend experience,” Giovanni offered back with a smile.
In the dining room, they hadn’t touched much of the dessert selection. The dessert wine, on the other hand, had been attacked by a constant pour cycle. Everyone except for Nora and Mr Grant was still at the table.
“Wow,” Gio let out behind Spencer.
“Me or the food,” Spencer asked over his shoulder.
Beverly scoffed, looking up from her plate at the two of them. “To be in love, eh?” she nodded to Colleen.
“I was,” Colleen slurred.
“You’ll find it again,” Mrs Grant said.
“I believe too,” Tina said through a giggle as she snuggled her hand into Jack’s. “It happens, I promise.”
/> “Then you have kids,” Frank said, resting a beer can on his belly. “You get fat, overworked, stressed, the kids want for everything, then they don’t want you around.” He inhaled through a deep snort. “If you ask me, these gays have it made.”
“Don’t be—” Mrs Grant caught herself, paused she forced a smile.
Spencer couldn’t help grin at the comment, they were both still pretending in it all, and only one of them was gay. It wasn’t like anyone paid attention to Frank and his obnoxious need to say whatever it was on his mind. He was similar to his brother, the other Mr Grant, both of them drinkers with port red noses and growing pot bellies.
Their focus quickly changed to the mountain of profiteroles covered in chocolate sauce, and the new table centrepiece, a chocolate fudge cake spilling over onto the table. They were complemented by several other ceramic casserole dishes filled with homemade fruit crumble.
“How can I decide?” Gio said.
“I can pack you some of the leftovers,” Mrs Grant said. “We usually send Spence back with a couple Tupperware boxes, which—” she hummed, “—I don’t think you brought back with you, or.”
Spencer shook his head as he figured out what his mother was getting at. “Doesn’t it just multiply in your cupboards anyway?”
“I can pack you some away as well,” Mrs Grant said, nodding to Gio.
Gio looked to Spencer. “Sure.”
“We’re leaving tonight,” Spencer said.
Mrs Grant smiled and nodded. “I figured as much,” she said. “It was nice to have you, even if for a short amount of time.” She sighed, continuing to nod as she left the table.
Jack stared down Spencer from across the dining room. “You should visit more.”
“I will,” he lied, he knew it was a lie, and so did the octave raise in his voice.
“We visit at least once a week,” he said.
Colleen chuckled to herself in the echo of her wine glass. “I’m here constantly,” she said. “Beat that.”
“You live thirty minutes away,” Spencer said. “And I work, a lot.”
It seemed to put an end to that as Jack resumed sticking his fork into the cake.
“You will be at the wedding though,” Tina said. “I’ll let you know soon because the date isn’t set yet, we’re still talking to all the venues and stuff, but I don’t want to put too much weight on before the big day and I certainly don’t want to have the baby before we get married.” She feigned a scream. “Nightmare.”
“Spence, you’ll have to let me know what you want before the vultures descend,” Mrs Grant chuckled.
“Vultures?” Frank let out in another burp.
Jack nodded. “Exactly who she was talking about.”
“I’ll be right back,” Spencer said.
Gio took his arm, pulling him as he stood from his seat.
“What?”
He tugged at him to kiss. “Just that.”
Spencer blushed, the heat in his face pulled him to smile as if he was going to burst. He walked into the kitchen to see his mother grabbing at Tupperware containers.
“Sure you don’t want to stay or come back for New Year?” she asked.
The shock of the question pulled a coughing fit from his throat. “We have plans.”
“Oh, yes, big party.”
“So,” his voice turned into a whisper as he approached his mother. “What do you think about him?”
“He seems like a lovely man,” she answered honestly.
“He is.”
“Glad you’re happy,” she said. “That’s all that matters, I’ve always wanted you to be happy.”
It was odd, because even though he was surrounded by things he knew should’ve made him unhappy, he was smiling and blushing; his heart strings being plucked and played.
“I wasn’t sure about all of this,” Spencer sighed.
“What do you mean?” she asked, nodding to the organised dishes laid out on the counters. “I’ll pack you extra turkey. You can always make different things with that.”
“Yes, sure,” he said. “I was just thinking, about, it might’ve been weird.”
Mrs Grant cupped a hand beneath her son’s chin, stroking at his cheek with a thumb. “Don’t ever worry about what people will think, if you’re happy together and you’re not causing mischief, then wear your love with pride.”
“Love, yeah,” he sounded back on a breath.
“What time were you thinking of leaving?” she asked, removing her hand from his face. “I know he couldn’t really drink, but I do have a little gift for the two of you.”
“No, no, no,” Spencer said. “We’re ok.”
“Gio, sweetheart,” Mrs Grant called out.
Appearing in the doorway, Giovanni stood nearly filling the height of the door. “Need help?” he asked, raising his brows.
Mrs Grant snapped her fingers, walking around the island counter. “I have a gift for the two of you,” she said. “I saw it in the supermarket a while ago, and I’ve been keeping it hidden. It was just one of those purchases.”
“Oh?” Gio and Spencer looked to each other.
Mrs Grant knelt on the ground as she searched through a cupboard. “It’s—in here—somewhere.”
“Mum, what are you getting?”
Appearing from the floor, Mrs Grant blew at the hair in her face. “I almost forgot about it.” In her hand she held a large bottle of vodka, it was coloured pink with a rainbow wrapper. “It’s got the gay thingy on it.”
“Pride flag,” Spencer said.
“That’s too kind,” Gio said. “Thank you.”
She cleaned away the dust from the label. “Let me know what you want and I’ll have it boxed up, but I want these boxes back this time. Ok?”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Gio said.
It was enough now for Spencer, from eating too much in his anxiety shrink-wrapped stomach to the continuous pretend with Giovanni, all he wanted now was a real conversation, and he could only get that once they left.
Spencer placed a hand to Gio’s chest, pausing him at the bedroom door.
“Thought we were leaving?” he said, his hand dropping at the handle of his small suitcase.
“I know what I should do for our first date .”
“Whoa,” Gio said, patting at Spencer’s hand on his chest. “This here, was more than one date, I think we’re going on date four at this point.”
“Oh, no,” Spencer let out with a gasp.
“What?”
“I have a three-date rule,” he said.
“So?”
Spencer smirked. “The next date we’ve got to have sex.”
Gio leaned to his ear. “I wouldn’t want you to break that rule,” he said with a kiss to the cheek.
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ABOUT the AUTHOR
JOE SATORIA is a British writer. He grew up in North West England, where he found himself planning his escape early in life. He moved around, exploring Europe and East Asia. His current location is a mystery, physically and mentally.
You can follow his journey as he writes gay romances.
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www.JoeSatoria.com
