Love in Real Life

by Seth King

  “He’s…alive?” I said. “But…his eyes were glazed over, his face was twitching, I thought he was…he seemed like he was…”

  “Of course he’s going to live,” she said. “But it might be a different life. We don’t know – we’re not sure yet. He has certain…weight issues…that may be a problem.”

  “He’s fat, you can say it,” I told her, feeling like a failure as a kid. I was the one who let him get like this while I was lost inside my own head. She smiled for a split-second.

  “Okay, then. But whatever we find out, you will find out, too. Just wait.”

  I fell asleep a few hours after midnight and woke up at nine. Dooley came, sat against me, and then left for her Tinder date at Burrito Gallery, promising to call me that night. She left a balloon saying “Happy Birthday” in big red letters, claiming it was all the grocery store had, and I promptly gave it to a nearby toddler as soon as she left. My dad had barely any friends, and obviously my mom was out of the question, so I had no idea who else to call. In the end I asked my aunt to come, but she was in Italy at her step-nephew’s wedding. So I was alone when they finally called me into his room. And I was so terrified of what I would find, every step down that cold hallway felt like a mile.

  I opened my eyes at the door. It was Nelson. And he was just…looking at me. He didn’t look anguished or terrible or anything, just tired and pale and grey, and also somewhat happy to see me.

  “Dad,” I whispered as I inched into the room. And that was all I could say. Dad.

  “Oh, come on, kid. It was just a thing – I’m not dead yet. Give me few decades first.”

  I came forward and hugged him, then winced when I remembered he was probably still hurting. I pulled back and looked down at him, crying and relieved and terrified. I just stared at him for a few minutes like that, rubbing the back of his hand. “Dad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

  “For what?”

  “For being such a miserable person, for pushing you away all the time…for everything. Ugh, I don’t even know myself anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If something happened to you, I’d have nothing. And God, here I am again, talking about myself endlessly while you are literally in a hospital bed. I am the worst and ugh, sometimes I can’t stand me.” I leaned down and clutched him by the shoulder. He winced. “Oh. Yeah. You’re, like, in terrible shape, and stuff. I’ll lay off.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’m on some very good pills. I think I might be in a hot air balloon right now?”

  “You’re not,” I smiled. He shrugged, then looked at me harder.

  “I am gonna say something else, though, possibly only because I’m on anxiety meds and I feel like I’m flying. It goes against everything in me to say this, but…you need to tell the same thing to that boyfriend of yours.”

  “Dad-”

  “No. It’s my time now. A few years ago I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Let me talk.” He got all dreamy and faraway for a minute. “When I first realized something was wrong and my mind got the best of me, I had the strangest memory, you know. We were down by the river in Live Oak by that old ramp, and you were so young. You were so young. And your mother was there…”

  I looked away. I didn’t want to cry in this cold, foreign hospital room. I would save it for later. But this place didn’t deserve my emotions. “Dad-”

  “Teddy, life slips through your hands like rope after you throw an anchor,” he interrupted. “I know that. Just yesterday it was like I was tasting Miller Lite for the first time in Benny Stelter’s garage, and now I’m an old man in a hospital bed. Be alive while you’re still young.”

  “Um. I’m not going to sit and talk about-”

  “Your mother is gone, and that’s the worst thing ever,” he said. “Just…the worst, with a capital W. But George isn’t gone yet. You’ve gotta let people love you. He won’t stick around and wait forever. He’s not me. He’s not obligated to wait around.” I looked away, and he sighed. “One day you are going to die in a hospital room just like this. What will matter to you then? Will your fear matter, will your insecurities matter, will George’s issues matter? No. Love will matter. Humans will matter. So get started – you’ve got a lot of loving to do.”

  I was crying now, finally. “Dad…”

  “No. I want you to at least try with this kid. There is no logic in love. Love is wishing when the world tells you to think.”

  “Ugh,” I sighed. “Why are you so…smart?”

  “Because I’ve been hurt more than you have.”

  “Well if that’s the requirement of gaining intelligence, I’m fine with staying stupid.” I stretched out my arms and did that laugh/cry thing you do when you’re trying not to disintegrate in front of someone who needs you to be strong. “God. I just wish he didn’t hurt so much.”

  Nelson squeezed me. He was the only person who could touch me and not make me recoil. Besides George now, I guess.

  “Seriously, I don’t think you see this very clearly,” he said. “This kid is a catch, and he won’t wait forever. Usually, in love, people are going to treat you like one of two things: a toilet, or a treasure. Which one does he treat you like?”

  “I mean, definitely the treasure one.” I’d been my first George’s toilet, and George Charles was nothing like that. “He definitely treats me well – no insults, no little cut downs, nothing I’m used to from my first guy, and from…well, Mom. But I’m just so afraid of getting hurt, I could…”

  “Hey. We’re all gonna get hurt,” he said with a grim nod. “Personally speaking, I’m a pile of scabs on top of a mountain of wounds. Life is a scar machine. The key is to just make sure you’re getting hurt by the right person. And…speaking of that…”

  I sat up. “Yes?”

  “I’ve got to tell you something else, here while my defenses are down.”

  He glanced away, sounding uncharacteristically stiff. There was something big he wanted to tell me – could feel it. I could see the signs – he was getting older, he’d been slowing down for months, and they’d just given him bad news. He was going to die. I was going to be without parents.

  “Just say it!” I barked, closing my eyes.

  “Okay. You know I loved your mother, right?”

  I opened them. “Um. Yes?”

  “For real? For real, for real?”

  “Yes…and?”

  He smoothed his gown, even though it was already smooth. “Okay. God, I am so nervous. Things have been happening lately, unexpected things, and I just wanted you to know…”

  “What is it?”

  “Honey, the thing is that…I think I’m…well, I know, rather, without a doubt, that I’m…gay.”

  My head wobbled a little. I leaned back. “What? Huh. What?”

  “Yeah, I’m…you know Big Joe?”

  I nodded vacantly. “That regular at Bookworm? That big one?”

  “That Big Joe, yes. There was a reason he came in every day. He apparently was…well, in love with me, God bless his misguided soul. Hence the constant appearances. But we started talking. He’s had heart trouble and he was very helpful during my recent episode, and…he’s asked if I want to date him.” He took a deep breath. “And I think I do.”

  I just stared.

  “He’s got some great ideas for stuff we can build around the property,” my dad continued, “and he has his construction license from before he went to rehab...”

  “So…you’re not dying?” I interrupted. “You’re not hiding a secret diagnosis from me? You’re just dating a dude?”

  “I’m gay,” he nodded, his voice wavering. “Are you…can you process this?”

  “Process this? Dad, this is the best thing I’ve ever heard! This just made you so much more interesting! And no wonder you’ve always been so cool with what I was!”

  His eyes popped. He looked terrified, so I hugged him.

  “You won’t be alone – I literally could not be more excited, Dad! Also, this me
ans you definitely won’t ever vote Republican again! Not that you would have before.” Then I paused. This was fine, but Big Joe would take some getting used to, on the other hand, although I was not going to tell my dad that. “But wait, why were you even nervous? Why would you even keep this from me? Don’t you know who I am?”

  He looked down, relief filtering into his eyes. It broke my heart. “Because it’s…different. It’s a lot to process. Considering your mom, and all…”

  “You’re a human who loves another human. What is there to process about that?”

  He started to say something, then stopped. “Well, I…I don’t know, actually. Good point.”

  He had a point, though. He was married to a woman for years. Who happened to be my mother. “Um. Is this…new, for you?”

  He sighed. I could tell he hated talking about this. I didn’t even know why he thought it was worth hiding, though. All this time he’d been sneaking around, scaring me to death…

  “Yeah and no,” he said. “I liked a guy once, when we were both teenagers. I didn’t know it at the time, I just thought we were best friends. But when he moved to Texas, I did not get out of bed for two months.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yes. He was my first love, but I let him go. I thought there would be other fish in the sea. There weren’t. Not until your mother, at least.” He sighed again. “I suppose you’re going to want me to become your gay BFF and pick out your outfits and everything. But just know that I’m still going to be me, and-”

  “No I’m not,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “No. Did you expect that of me, when I came out to you?”

  “No. I think I just went into the kitchen and made some Ramen noodles.”

  “Exactly. This changes absolutely nothing about you. I mean, it explains some things, like how you got all blushy-faced whenever Property Brothers came on…but anyway. Sexuality is not necessarily tied to any sort of behavior or personality type. You’re exactly the same person you were five minutes ago. You’re still going to dress like a depressed professional bowler and you’re still going to be messier than a kindergarten class. You just have a lot more freedom now.”

  He ate, as always, from his can of Buffalo Pringles, which I guessed had become some kind of anxiety crutch. “And for God’s sake, can you please stop with the carbs? Where did you even get those in a hospital?”

  “Oh, don’t go there again. They do have a gift shop downstairs, you know.”

  “So you sent someone down? God. Why can’t I tell you not to eat crap? It’s probably what got you here in the first place. Your heart isn’t okay, Dad.”

  His eyes searched mine. I looked away. “We can never save the people we love from themselves, Teddy. Did you hear me? What they do, and the decisions they make, are all on them. All we can do is try to be the trade winds, and guide them where they need to go. But hurricanes come every year, and nothing can blow them away.”

  I bit my lip. “After all you dealt with, from Mom I mean, why would you be encouraging me to pursue someone like George? Someone with an iffy…situation? I’ve told you about his stuff…he didn’t go out in public for three years…”

  He frowned. “Sure, you could lose him. But life isn’t about who we lose. It’s about who we love. Before you know it, you’ll be old, and you’ll get your AARP card in the mail, and none of this will matter anymore. At the end of it all, ask yourself, is the person worth the pain?”

  I picked at my fingernails. “Yes, honestly yes, he is.”

  “Go for it, then,” he smiled. “He’s wonderful to you. Let him be wonderful to you.”

  “But it hurts!”

  He laughed. “Trust me, I know that. Those who love the deepest also hurt the deepest. It’s like a sword with a million little edges. Us readers know that. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth the trouble. Do you get that?”

  I shrugged, then nodded. He sighed and pulled me closer.

  “You are the best person I have ever had the privilege of loving. Your compassion, your selflessness…you remind me of the brightest parts of your mother. The best parts. The parts she blotted out.”

  A tremor ran over me then. “Thank you, but please stop before I sob. And the story is over, Dad. We didn’t end up together.”

  “Aw. Everyone’s always together. They just don’t know it until the last page.

  The clouds outside, which had been roiling and rolling, finally burst like someone had popped a balloon with a steak knife. As the steady hum of the rain filled the room it made me think about my own life. Because that’s what the world did to us – poked holes in us. Eventually we burst. It was bound to happen. I was just grateful that George was the one to poke the hole.

  And maybe we were supposed to meet – maybe we were meant to be the lead characters in each other’s sagas. Maybe some stories were already out there, pre-written, lingering in the clouds, just waiting for their plot devices to kick in. That didn’t mean we were supposed to be in each other’s final chapters, but still, we were temporary costars – and that wasn’t nothing.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “Message received. And Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take that man on a date on the beach at night. Treat him right and never leave him alone. And tell him if he ever breaks your heart, I will break his legs. Both of them. Twice.”

  “Same to you, about George.”

  I hugged him. Then I walked outside, did five jumping jacks to center myself, and then sent George one text:

  I think I want to get hurt by you, George. And I’m so sorry. For EVERYTHING.

  ~

  A few hours later I was helping the nurses force Nelson to eat something besides…well, crap. Somehow he was managing to gain weight in the hospital, and I wasn’t accepting it. “This roast beef tastes like a rubber band!” he was yelling, clearly inebriated on his pills. “I’ve had better at the Golden Corral! Are the insurance guys trying to poison me so they won’t have to pay for the rest of my stay?”

  “Dad!” I said. “Stop! Do what they say!”

  “Don’t listen to her,” he told a nurse, pointing at me. “She’s the one who just dumped the best kid I’ve ever met.”

  “For the millionth time,” I sighed, “this is weird to talk about. I’d rather just talk about it with him, personally, if I ever do at all.”

  He smiled. It was all cockeyed and drunk and weird, though, like when a wasted guy said something he thought was funny, but that actually didn’t make any sense.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “That’s why I had Dooley contact him when you were at the vending machines. He’ll be here within the hour, if he isn’t already.”

  George Charles

  As I parked in the dim hospital garage and pounded up the steps to the elevator to find my guy, I compiled a list of things I liked.

  I liked:

  His hair, and the way it shined like the sea in July. His freckles, and the way they popped from his skin randomly like stars on a semi-cloudy night. His smile, and the way it made me want to hug things and sit in meadows for no reason at all. The way he talked to his father on the phone, like he would walk to Egypt for him. The way he laughed with all of his body, and the way it made people look up from whatever they were doing and stare, caught off guard. The way he made everything else in the room fade into soft-focus. The way I wanted to wake up to him every morning, selfishly, because he was like a gift I didn’t want anyone else to unwrap. The way I felt when I thought about him, all wistful and fuzzy and wonderstruck. And the way I felt when I was around him, like all I wanted in the world was to sit with him and touch him and be beautiful to him.

  Here was a list of things I hated:

  When he pulled away from me.

  And here was a list of things I loved:

  Him.

  And now that I was assured in that knowledge, I didn’t want to be without him again, Fordham be damned.

  Suddenly I realized I
wasn’t walking through the hospital lobby anymore. I was running.

  Teddy Martin

  It really was just like a movie – George rounded the corner and ran, literally kind of ran, down the hall when he saw me. He didn’t so much hug me as slam into me, and I had never been more grateful to be touching and sniffling and crying against someone. He was on the edge of tears, too, for whatever reason.

  “What is it with you and showing up places uninvited?” I finally asked, breathless and wet-cheeked. He just stared at me. We’d never really touched like this, not in public at least. He had some cheap, ugly flowers in his hand, but ugly as pretty when next to him, and I wanted more than anything I’d ever wanted before to hold him and never let him go.

  “How are you?” he asked as I breathed in his slightly musty smell.

  “Fine. I’m fine. I’m ready to sleep for about eighteen hours, but I’m fine. And sorry for being a crazy person for a minute, there.”

  “No clue what you’re talking about,” he smiled. “That’s my job.”

  “Whatever. How are you? Are you okay, being here? Around all these people, and everything, with your anxiety…”

  For a moment he didn’t even look like he knew what I was talking about. Then he blinked. “Oh, that…to be honest, I haven’t even really been noticing the terror anymore – not when I’m somewhere with you, at least.”

  We just held each other.

  “I’m in outer space, Teddy,” he murmured against me. “I need you.”

  “Let’s sit down,” was all I was able to say. And so we did, in a pair of waiting room chairs.

  “How is he? And why didn’t you call me about this? And…should we go up there now?”

  “He’s actually not bad,” I said. “Probably asleep. But finding him at home, like that, was…horrifying. Dooley brought me half a Xanax, though, so I should be fine for a while. And sorry, I guess I just didn’t know what I would say to you.”

  “God, I’m the one who should be sorry. I wish I would’ve been there. To help.”