Sticking to the Script: Cipher Office Book #2

by Romance, Smartypants

  Kari leaned over and whispered, “Mom kicked him out on Tuesday. He’s been sleeping in the guest house.”

  “What?” I asked loudly, bringing everyone’s attention back to me.

  “It feels bad,” Dad said suddenly, his voice brusque and gravelly. “It feels bad and I feel like a failure as a parent.” He cleared his throat and met my eyes. “As soon as I left your dorm, I regretted everything I said, but I was too stubborn to go back and say it to you, to ask for your forgiveness. I was wrong to say the things that I said, but the worst thing was not apologizing for it.” He shook his head. “We have not had one conversation in almost ten years that wasn’t banal chitchat,” he spat the words like chitchat was abhorrent or disgusting. “Every conversation about the weather in Chicago or hospital resident shift rotation or Cubs stats was like a knife in my heart. And it was my own fault. I didn’t know how to fix it.” He shook his head again, sadly, slowly. “I still don’t. There’s nothing I can say that can turn back time or make the hurt go away. All I can say is that I’m sorry. And I pray you can forgive me.”

  Mom had started weeping during my dad’s speech and I found myself reflexively swallowing and blinking to thwart my own emotional upheaval. Stride, stride, stride, stride. I didn’t want to lose my control there, not in front of everyone. I knew once I started, I wouldn’t stop until I was wrung dry. Steven, Kari, Mom, Dad, Nana…they were the only people in my life who could turn me into a wreck, and they were all doing it in the same week. My psyche wasn’t going to be able to handle it, I was sure. It was too much all at once. A man couldn’t flip from robotic stoicism to hysterical shambles in such a short amount of time without some adverse effects on his mental health.

  I wanted out. I didn’t want this. I wanted away from their eyes and expectant expressions. I didn’t know how I was feeling, didn’t know what anyone needed from me in that moment. Stride, stride, stride, stride. I started to jiggle my leg. Every sound my mother made, increased my anxiety.

  I couldn’t stand to hold my father’s eyes and see the pain and hope there, so I looked to Nana. Her eyes were fixed on me with intent. She raised her eyebrows and issued me a pointed stare. Step up, Kenny, the look said. Say what you need to say.

  I took a deep breath and focused on my feelings. What did I want to say? What did I want to know? How did I feel? This was a time for honesty, so I checked in with myself and found my balls.

  “Why did you say it in the first place?” My voice came across sure and strong, despite my inner turmoil. This was what I wanted to know. Had it been the shock, or was he a raging homophobe? I knew Nana’s look was right. This was my moment to own it all, understand it all, and draw my line in the sand. “Those thoughts and feelings had to come from somewhere. Maybe you were sorry for saying them, but maybe also, they were the truth of what you thought and felt about me.”

  He nodded. “You know why I said them. I told you then I wanted the best for you, that I didn’t want you to have unnecessary hurdles or roadblocks.” He scrubbed his face roughly with both hands and sighed. “Part of it was seeing you and that boy together, I think. I was stunned and embarrassed and angry.”

  “Why angry?” I asked. I only had eyes for my dad, but I realized that the women were uncharacteristically silent. My mom’s weeping had stopped, and I didn’t think Kari was breathing. Nana had leaned back against the couch, allowing Dad to have the stage.

  “Because I had no idea,” he replied softly. “You and I were always close. As a kid, you were my shadow when I was home. In temperament, you were just like me. Hell, if it weren’t for your mother’s hair, I’d swear you were my clone. I…I didn’t see it. I never imagined it. I was mad that you had this side to you that I didn’t know—that you didn’t tell me. A side I had to accidentally see—in living color—instead of being told by you. You should have told us.”

  The slight accusation in his voice ramped up my irritation. I heard him. I understood what he was saying. He’d been blindsided and felt slighted that he hadn’t known everything about me. I got that. I knew it had been a lot in that moment, but I didn’t miss or appreciate the subtle shift of blame at the end of his explanation.

  Neither did my mother, it seemed. “Robert.” It was a warning.

  “Julia…” my grandmother issued her own warning. “Let the boys handle this,” she said softly, almost in a whisper.

  “That’s bull. I was twenty-two, Dad,” I defended. “My sex life, as far as you were concerned, was a need-to-know type of thing. I would have told you when I felt you needed to know. A person should be able to come out how and when they want.” I resented that he felt he was owed knowledge of every aspect of my life. I felt like I should be allowed to have parts of myself that were private without feeling like I was a sneak or a liar. But an image of Steven’s sneering face as he told me he couldn’t trust me, flashed in my mind.

  I hadn’t told Angie. I’d kept certain things need-to-know with her as well. Steven thought that was lying. And, in a way, I could see that now. I didn’t think it meant I was untrustworthy, but I did omit an important truth about myself.

  Bisexuality wasn’t just about sex. If it were, I could justify keeping it to myself. But it was an important part of who I was—a part that shapes my relationships and my future. Relationships and a future that are to be shared with people I love.

  I hadn’t told Angie. Would I have told my parents or Kari if Dad hadn’t caught me with Harry Deluca all those years ago? When would need-to-know have ever cropped up? Until Steven, I hadn’t had a real boyfriend. If things had been different, would I have been only now having the Surprise, I’m bi, I have a boyfriend talk?

  For all my internal pep-talks about being comfortable and confident and unashamed of my sexuality, I wondered if there was a part of me that felt I needed to pretend for other people that it wasn’t there.

  I closeted myself. The realization jolted me. All this time I thought I was open and living my life on my own terms, but the people who meant the most to me had been in the dark. My mother hadn’t known. Kari figured it was a passing phase. Angie never knew. Once the dust settled after my fight with Dad, I never spoke of my sexuality again—until Steven. And even then, I hadn’t been explicit. I’d approached him with such a casualness that he hadn’t recognized I was interested in a romantic or sexual way. I wasn’t living out-and-proud, no matter what I’d told myself.

  “I’m bisexual,” I announced suddenly.

  Dad blinked and Kari snorted a laugh. “Uh, yeah, we know. That’s why we’re here,” she said sarcastically.

  I twisted to include her in my next statement.

  “Listen to me. What I mean is that I’m not a straight man when I’m in a relationship with a woman, or a gay man when I’m in a relationship with a guy. That’s not how it works. I don’t want to pretend that it is. I don’t want to have to say all this again down the road someday when you’ve tried to convince yourself I’m straight. But I will. I’ll say it as many times as I need to get it through your heads. I’m. Bi.”

  “Ooookay…” Kari said warily.

  I looked to my father. “When it comes to relationships, I’m not going to take the easy road. If I’m with a woman, it’s because I want to be with her and no one else. The same goes for men. I’m sorry you had to find out like you did, Dad. It’s not how I wanted you to find out. But I’m not going to ever compromise my happiness to make other people more comfortable about me. I work hard at everything I put my mind to, but I never put my mind to people-pleasing. You know this. If someone is going to misjudge me as indecisive or selfish or deviant, that’s their problem. I can’t and won’t do anything to change it. I am who I am.”

  “I’m sorry I said those things.” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t want you to live your life for other people. We didn’t raise you that way. I had no right to make you feel like you should or that there’s anything wrong with being who you are.”

  There was a long silence. I didn’t know what
to say to him. I never gave a lot of thought to it, but my dad had damaged more than our relationship that night. I went from being gregarious and confident to being withdrawn and uptight. I ceased feeling comfortable in my own skin, and it was terrible not feeling at peace with myself. I didn’t know if I could forgive and forget so easily—erase ten years of hurt and betrayal with one hour of conversation. But I did know I wanted to try. I loved my family, wanted them to love me as I was, wanted them to love whomever I eventually married.

  “This boy, Steven,” mom piped in. “Kari says you’re in love with him.”

  She paused, waiting for confirmation, I supposed, so I said, “Yes.” I did love Steven, but I didn’t want to talk about him—not with our situation as it was. I wasn’t about to discuss my broken relationship with them.

  “Then you’re bringing him to the wedding,” Nana demanded.

  “Um, uh, no, Nana,” I protested, but she cut me off.

  “It’s perfect. Everyone we know can get all their gum-flapping and gossiping out in one day and have done with it. You can show everyone you care for him and we will be there with you showing our solidarity.”

  “It’s not a good id—”

  “Yes, it is,” she insisted. “Go home, speak to him about it and convince him to brave the family. I expect him there.”

  Nana used my dad’s shoulder to heft herself up from the couch and announced, “Robert and Julia, take me home. Kenny’s got to fly back to Chicago and think about things.”

  Mom and Dad both stood, and we said our goodbyes. My mother gave me a tight hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.” My eyes watered, but I refused to let the tears fall. I let go of her and approached my dad.

  “Thank you for coming here and saying those things. I needed to hear it.”

  “I should have said them years ago,” he replied.

  As soon as they left, I turned to Kari.

  “I’m not bringing Steven to the wedding.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  *Steven*

  Something startled me awake. At first, I thought it was my own snore because I heard and felt the sharp, vibrating gasp as awareness dawned.

  I was lying on my couch, fully clothed, and disoriented by the dimness of the apartment. The faint light from the windows could have been early evening or early morning.

  How long had I slept?

  It felt as if I’d only just closed my eyes. I had a vague memory of pillowing my head on the armrest and thinking I’d take myself to bed in a few moments. Obviously, I’d never managed.

  A knock at the door came then, as I surfaced from sleep. The knocking. It had been knocking that woke me, I realized.

  I flailed my hand to the coffee table, found my glasses and slipped them on. When I rose from the couch, my hip twinged and creaked, protesting my choice of bed. “Oof.”

  I hastened to answer the door and standing in the hall was Elizabeth—looking fresh and happy and holding two familiar paper coffee cups.

  “Good morning!” she said cheerfully.

  If it was indeed morning, it was really, freaking early.

  “Huh?” I asked, still somewhat disoriented from my short nap. I doubted I slept a full day—though god knew I probably need to. So that meant I’d only been sleeping—at maximum—two or three hours. The last time I looked at a clock it had been after three.

  Adding to the disorientation was Elizabeth’s expectant expression. She didn’t seem to acknowledge or believe that a pre-six AM visit was completely weird, so I had to search my brain for what I could possibly be missing.

  “Is the building on fire?”

  “What? No. I was up early and thought I’d get you some Buzzy’s before we go. We have a little bit of time and Nico’s still getting packed.”

  She handed me a coffee and walked through to the living room. I followed her and flipped on the overhead light. The sunlight, though filtering in more and more, was still too weak to illuminate the room.

  I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and took in my wrinkled shirt and pants. “You’re not going to Boston?”

  “Was I supposed to go to Boston today?” I asked skeptically. I knew I had been slightly deprived of sleep the past couple of weeks, but I didn’t think I’d forget a trip.

  “To see Kat. Quinn said we were all going—”

  “Quinn said I was going too?” I interrupted her, jumping on the mention of Quinn. He and I hadn’t spoken in a week and our interactions up to then had been noticeably strained. I wasn’t feeling very secure where he was concerned. Maybe this was a good sign. If he’d included me in the travel plans, I’d feel more like the strain was probably all in my head.

  I blamed it on Ken.

  I wouldn’t have this guilty, shitty, paranoid feeling all the time if it weren’t for him. I kept seeing his face, so full of accusation and incredulity. It was disillusionment and disappointment too and it fueled my feelings of being undeserving of what I had, strengthened my worry that the jig was up, and my whole world was coming down around my ears.

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “I just assumed. Because, well, it’s Kat.”

  I sighed, disappointment deflating my bubble of hope. It was a fair assumption on Elizabeth’s part. She knew Kat and I were close. And with Shiva—the Jewish mourning period—finished, it was reasonable that her friends would visit her now to help lift her spirits. Between her father passing away, Caleb being a nuisance, and the stress of her inheritance, she presumably needed as much support as possible.

  Thinking of Kat and all that she was going through and how I hadn’t been a good friend to her in these past weeks, filled me with guilt.

  I blamed it on Ken.

  Kat’s father had died the day after we broke up. And though I’d kept in sparse contact with her via text, all my mental energy had been sucked up by him. Thinking about Ken, wallowing in misery over Ken…blaming Ken.

  If he hadn’t done what he’d done on that Tuesday, I’d have enough energy to be there for my friend in her time of need. But no. Instead, I’d hardly thought of her.

  I was a selfish asshole and it was all Ken’s fault.

  “There’s still time to pack if you wanted to tag along,” Elizabeth offered.

  I snorted. Tag along. Sure, tag along, uninvited, when it was clear I was excluded intentionally? Not happening.

  “No thanks,” I said, bitterness lacing my words. “I’ll go see Kat on my own some other time.” I didn’t need Quinn and Manuel to visit Kat. I could go whenever I felt like it. Maybe I’d even take some vacation days. Whatever I did, I didn’t need an invitation from Quinn.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, surprise evident in her tone. I wasn’t doing a very good job of putting on a happy face. My only excuse was that she’d caught me at a strange moment. It wasn’t easy to get my shit together while I was depressed and sleep-deprived. Still, I needed to buck up—if only to get her to wipe that concern off her face.

  I swatted the air. “I’m fine, sugar, just tired. It’s way too early.” I held up the coffee she’d given me. “But this will help.” I looked at the cup and said, “Just what the doctor ordered.”

  I took a big swig from the paper cup and watched as Elizabeth’s face morphed from concern to suspicion—eyes narrowing, head tilting slightly as if she were trying to focus on hearing some far-off sound. Damn it.

  She gestured with her free hand at my rumpled clothing. “Does this have anything to do with Dr. Ken Miles?”

  I’d suspected she’d known about Ken based on her pointed question that day at Janie’s, but I wasn’t going to offer her information, so I asked, “What do you know about Ken?”

  “I know that for several Wednesday mornings I’d see him leaving the building very early, wearing scrubs and carrying a tote on his shoulder.”

  Stupid Tuesday nights.

  I shrugged, having no re
sponse for her. I wasn’t going to lie, but I also sure as hell wasn’t going to spill my guts out to her.

  “I’ve been leaving at the same time, but I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.” She stared at me for a moment, then continued, “I was surprised at first. I was just getting into the car in the circle, when I closed the door, looked out the window and saw Dr. Ken Miles strutting out of our doors at five AM. It took a second for the dots to connect, but I realized he had to be here with you.”

  “Not necessarily,” I argued. “A lot of people live in this building.” I’d tried my best to wipe my face of expression, unwilling to betray any of my feelings to her. Ken was gone. It hurt. It hurt a lot and I didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

  “Oh my God.” Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re even doing that thing he does!” She pointed at my face and twirled her finger. “It’s like the hamster in the wheel stopped running.” She tapped her temple in emphasis.

  Reluctantly, I chuckled. “See, I thought it was more like an unplugged robot.”

  She smiled, but it quickly faded as she asked quietly, “Did you break up?”

  Inexplicably, the quiet softness of her question made my throat close. I tried to swallow the offending emotions that were threatening to surface. Elizabeth read the answer in my silent struggle and she tsked. Apology and compassion filling her face. “Oh, Steven, I’m sorry.” She gave my arm a comforting caress. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I cleared my throat. “Nah, I’m good. You know me, I don’t do long-term. It’s no big deal.” I couldn’t cope with her pity or gentle consolation. It was going to make me feel things I’d been trying not to feel for two weeks. I hated to make light of what I felt for Ken, but I had to in order to just get through it.

  She nodded her head thoughtfully. “I get the feeling he’s kind of a clingy and demanding guy. I don’t imagine you loved that. On paper, Ken’s great. Smart…has his shit together. Very pretty. But really, give him any encouragement and he gets pushy.”