by Carrie Davis
I was totally floored.
A classic—and once again, sadly cliché—bad-boy, Alex Maxwell certainly wasn’t the kind of guy our parents would have reacted to well.
They would have forbidden Amanda to see him. He wasn’t The Golden Child, like Dexter. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it and I wasn’t certain what I was supposed to feel, but what I did feel was burning anger and undeniable hurt.
Dexter McKenna, the guy whose shadow I had never been able to escape, was like me in more ways than anyone would have guessed. It really wasn’t fair! I knew my father didn’t know Dexter was gay, but he did truly adore Dexter and it made me wonder what would happen when my father did finally learn the truth. I was terrified he would happily accept Dexter’s sexuality, because at least Dexter wasn’t a disappointment on every other level, the way I was.
Was that the key? Had I actually been able to play sports with decent skill, would my dad have accepted me?
I didn’t have a single answer to any of my questions and I couldn’t deny that I was seriously pissed at Dexter.
Allowing my anger to take charge, I got Dexter’s email address from Amanda, and I fired off an email to him, making my feelings known.
Needless to say, it wasn’t a nice little note.
I called him a fraud. I told him he was a bastard, that he was a coward. I raged that he was just a walking lie and I made it clear how much he disgusted me.
I honestly didn’t expect any reply from Dexter. I figured he would've decided he didn’t owe me a explanation. But, the next morning, there was an email from him waiting for me.
Matthew,
You’re right. I am a fraud. And a coward. After my father’s reaction to me, and your father’s reaction to you, I just figured the best thing I could do was stay in the closet, but I know now that isn’t an option. I don’t want to be a fake anymore, which means telling everyone, your father included, the truth.
I get that you hate me, and I think I understand why, but for what it’s worth, I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else.
Truth be told, I respect you, Matthew. I always have. I wish we could have been friends.
Maybe one day, you and I can sit down and talk about this face to face.
Take care of yourself.
I couldn’t deny that Dexter’s reply seemed sincere, but I didn’t write back and I tried to delete the email, but instead I ended up saving it.
Three days later, Amanda called and told me that Dexter had officially come out and people were shocked. Especially our father, who wouldn’t even speak to Dexter now.
It made me a massive bastard, but I was actually relieved by my father’s reaction. It meant that even if I had excelled in all the areas Dexter had, my dad would still have turned his back on me when he found out I was gay.
Not exactly the greatest comfort, but it was something, and with that knowledge, I made an effort to get on with my life, without worrying about my father, or wondering about Dexter and what twists and turns his life had taken following coming out. I assured myself I didn’t care. It wasn’t my problem. I had my own issues, my own life. I was happy with my life.
I graduated college and I found a job working as a theater teacher at a high school. I dated from time to time. I had friends. My mom and Amanda stayed in contact with me, and while my mother’s letters became less “Dexter-Centric,” she did still mention him from time to time.
He graduated from Duke. He was working with a minor league basketball team; he could have gone pro—despite being out—but he decided against it. He didn’t want to live in the public eye. He and Amanda were still friends.
He often asked my mother about me.
I didn’t care.
Only I did. It was foolish and stupid, and part of me did indeed hate Dexter, for a host of reasons—some logical and a few not—but I didn’t tell my mother that. I didn’t even hint to her that I had the slightest interest in Dexter’s inquiries about me. I had some pride, after all, and I was determined to hold on to that pride.
My crush on Dexter was forced from my mind and locked deep inside my heart.
I intended for it to stay there.
I intended to never again see Dexter McKenna.
However, as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Three years after I graduated college, my mother called and informed me that Amanda was engaged to a wonderful man named Alex Maxwell.
It seemed Alex had cleaned up his act. He was an investment banker, a respected man, and it was obvious he loved Amanda very much.
Naturally, I was happy for my sister. She and I were closer than we had been growing up. I had come to respect the person Amanda was, and I had finally realized it wasn’t her fault that she seemed so very perfect. I guess I had matured, to some extent.
When Amanda called and personally asked me to come home for her wedding, there wasn’t any possible way I could refuse. I didn’t want to refuse. Being a good big brother, I really wanted to be there for my sister’s big day, but Amanda was kind enough to warn me that not only would Dexter be attending the wedding, he was actually in the wedding party, standing up as Alex’s best man.
Now, I really had matured during my years away from home, but I had to wonder once again if maybe the universe did indeed hate me.
My sister’s gay fake-ex-boyfriend, and my never-spoken-out-loud crush, was my sister’s soon-to-be-husband’s best man. Seriously, I half-expected Jerry Springer to call and personally ask my family to appear on his show.
Amanda asked if being around Dexter would make me uncomfortable, but I assured her I would be fine, that I had no issue with Dexter.
I was fairly certain she didn’t believe me, but she was nice enough not to challenge me on my lie, and I began making plans to return to my hometown for the first time in nearly seven years.
Doing so would bring me face to face with my father, with Dexter, with all the issues I had run from when I went off to college. I couldn’t say I particularly looked forward to that. But it had to be done. I had to put my lingering issues with the past to rest, once and for all, and Amanda’s wedding left me with no more excuses to avoid reality.
The wedding was scheduled for June, so I had no work conflict. I made the flight arrangements and the rental car arrangements, which left me with only mental preparations: long-winded speeches, in which I assured myself that: a) I had built a great life, b) I had no reason to be ashamed, c) I didn’t need approval from anyone, not even my father, and d) I could and I would be civil when it came to dealing with Dexter, because I was a mostly-mature adult, and whatever crush I might have had on him was long dead and gone.
He was just some guy who would be at my sister’s wedding.
Nothing more.
It was another lie—I was good at telling them to myself—but I held to it, needing to believe it, needing the comfort it gave me.
I was no longer the painfully shy, awkward kid I had once been and I didn’t want to be him again. The last thing I wanted was to regress, and if I allowed Dexter McKenna to get to me, I would be going back in time.
I wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Plain and simple.
My walls were in place, my self-confidence reinforced. I was ready to go into battle, because it was a battle I knew I would win.
I had to.
My peace of mind was at stake, after all, and possibly my heart. Quite frankly, I couldn’t afford to lose either.
Dexter
When Amanda told me Matthew was coming home for her wedding, I was instantly overwhelmed with a host of emotions.
Fear.
Excitement.
Dread.
Anticipation.
I hadn’t seen Matthew in nearly seven years. I hadn’t had any contact with him beyond our single email exchange, and that hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy with friendship. I knew Matthew hated me. He had justifiable reasons. Everything he had said about me in his email was undeniable, but I wa
s ready and willing to admit my mistakes.
To some extent, I already had.
I was no longer lingering in the closet. I was officially out. Everyone in my personal life and almost everyone in my professional life knew I was gay and, after coming out, I learned who my true friends were. Amanda and Alex were among them.
My family, however, was a different story. My dad had already made it clear that he had no use for me and, while my mother did talk to me, she only did so in secret so my father wouldn’t find out. As I had expected, Raymond Sullivan pretty much ignored me.
That hurt.
During my so-called relationship with Amanda, Raymond had become a father figure to me; he took an interest in me that my dad never had, not even before he found out I was gay. I enjoyed feeling like someone gave a damn. I had a lot in common with Raymond. It was nice having someone to talk to about the sports I liked. I enjoyed feeling like I had made a father proud, even if it wasn’t my father, but it wasn’t until much later that I realized my being around had distracted Raymond’s attention from the person who had truly deserved it.
Matthew.
I suspected the bond I had once shared with Raymond was one of the reasons Matthew hated me, but I knew it went beyond that.
Of course, once I came out, I became as unimportant to Raymond as Matthew seemingly was, which pissed me off, but not for myself.
I was pissed that Raymond couldn’t seem to see what an incredible man his son had become.
I had kept tabs on Matthew over the years. I knew he had graduated NYU with honors, and that he taught theater. He seemingly had a good life, but that didn’t surprise me. I had always suspected that Matthew could and would excel. I had always sensed something intense lurking beneath his quiet and shy exterior.
I know he spent most of our dreaded years in high school trying to hide away from the rest of the world. He didn’t want anyone to notice him, but I certainly had, in more ways than Matthew had ever realized and in ways I couldn’t dare acknowledge to anyone.
Having a crush on your fake girlfriend’s brother was complicated, to say the least, and I didn’t dare act on what I felt.
How could I even consider it?
I was Dexter McKenna and Dexter McKenna couldn’t be a closet case because Dexter McKenna was The Big Man on Campus. I was the guy all the girls were supposed to want and all the guys wanted to be. I told myself I had a reputation and I had no choice.
I had to protect that reputation.
I had to be what everyone believed me to be.
It was like being a character in some play or book or movie and it didn’t matter that I didn’t like the plot, because I saw no escape.
I kept my mouth shut, I played basketball, I won awards, and only Amanda knew the truth, because she was my best friend and because by playing her boyfriend, I didn’t have to worry about dating other girls and Amanda got to see Alex on the side.
A win-win situation, or it would have been had I not found myself drawn to Amanda’s brother, the shy and intense and enigmatic young man with cornflower blue eyes that reflected a deep intelligence and deep emotions.
Feeling what I felt for Matthew terrified me, which prompted me to avoid him as much as I could, even when I was around his house supposedly seeing Amanda or talking with Raymond. I wanted to talk to him, to offer him friendship, but I didn’t dare because I was a coward. I was afraid if someone saw me around Matthew, they would somehow be able to see what exactly I felt for him, which I couldn’t allow to happen, especially after I defended him from Brent’s verbal attack.
I said it before and I’ll say it again: I was a coward. I was too afraid to take a chance, so I played my part. Amanda and I eventually “broke up,” but I still saw Raymond often, which allowed me to watch Matthew from a distance until we graduated.
Amanda told me exactly what happened when Matthew came out and I wanted to go to him, to do or say something comforting.
Of course, I didn’t.
The next thing I knew, Amanda was telling me that Matthew had gone to New York early, to get away from his father’s silent treatment. Raymond wouldn’t even acknowledge him, according to Amanda, and I hated Raymond for that. But I didn’t say anything to him. Not about Matthew. I was still too afraid. I was locked inside the closet. My father had made it clear he wouldn’t react well should I admit to anyone else I was gay, and once I was in college, I was still far too nervous to come out. As a result, my first years in college weren’t that different from high school.
I was the campus superstar, shining on the basketball court, rolling through life, until the email from Matthew.
It was like a sucker punch to the gut.
His anger, his disgust, it was all justified, because he was right. I was a fraud and a liar, and after reading that email I knew I couldn’t continue lying to myself and everyone around me. Matthew gave me a serious push to do the right thing—he made he want to be true to myself—and the day after the email came, I stopped the lies once and for all.
I called my mother first, telling her that she should warn my father that I wasn’t hiding a moment more. And after that, I proudly, albeit nervously, admitted the truth to anyone else who needed to know. It felt damn good.
I felt truly free, for the first time ever, and I had Matthew to thank for that, but he didn’t email me again and I didn’t have enough nerve to contact him, because I was pretty certain he would reject me if I did. Which was what I deserved.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I went on with life.
I graduated, got a job, dated. I built a pretty good life, but I could never escape the feeling that something was missing.
Someone was missing.
And then Amanda and Alex announced they were getting married, and Amanda said Matthew would be there, and something inside of me clicked.
I knew instantly that this was the chance I had been waiting for.
I was going to see Matthew again. I was going to actually be in the same room with him. I could talk to him and apologize face to face, maybe even make him understand that I hadn’t meant to cause him any pain when we were kids.
I think Amanda sensed how excited I was at the prospect of seeing her brother. She offered me the use of one of her parents’ guest rooms and, naturally, I accepted. If I was under the same roof as Matthew, the odds that we could have a real conversation increased. I knew I was getting my hopes up. For all I knew, Matthew could be involved with someone, and even if he wasn’t, he might not be willing to give me a real chance to show him how much I had changed.
But I prayed—pleaded—that he would.
I returned to Bricks the night before Matthew was scheduled to come home and had dinner with Amanda and Alex. When we returned to Amanda and Matthew’s childhood home, Jenna welcomed me with a hug and Raymond grunted something in my general direction.
Amanda flashed a glare at him.
I knew, via Alex, that Amanda had warned her father to be on his best behavior where Matthew and I were concerned and, while I was touched by the gesture, I wasn’t worried about myself. If Raymond wanted to hate me, that was fine. My own father had already rejected me. Raymond had made it clear he was an asshole, but I really didn’t want the man doing or saying anything that would upset Matthew. I knew about Matthew’s life, and he had no reason at all to be ashamed. No one had the right to make him feel like less than what he was, and I knew I would step in with my opinion if Raymond said anything negative about his son.
I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too on edge and anxious. I knew Matthew was arriving the next day and, at six o’clock sharp, I was out of bed, showered, and sitting downstairs on the front porch with a cup of coffee.
No one else was awake. It was peaceful and calm, and I enjoyed the time to myself.
After sitting there for about half an hour, the sound of a car pulling into the drive caught my attention and I looked up to see a red Jeep parking behind Amanda’s sports car.
My heart kicked so hard against my chest, I was afraid I was having a heart attack, because I knew who was in that Jeep.
The man I had been waiting to see.
For a long time after he killed the engine, Matthew sat in the vehicle and I could see him staring at me, despite the darkened tint of the windshield.
My kicking heart sank.
Clearly, he wasn’t happy to see me. Even if he knew I would be there, he likely hadn’t counted on me being the first person he would find himself faced with.
Finally, the door opened and with casual grace Matthew slipped from the Jeep, and I found myself facing a vision of perfection.
Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his blond hair looked disheveled, like he had repeatedly run his hands through it, and he hadn’t shaved the day before. I could tell he was a few inches taller than he had been in high school, making him about five-foot-eleven, and the muscles in his arms and chest were evident, but not overly bulky.
I wanted to push him against the Jeep and kiss him until neither of us could breathe.
Somehow, I suspected doing so would earn me a punch to the stomach, so I forced myself to not act like a complete dork as I walked down the drive.
“Dexter.”
I nearly winced. He said my name like doing so made him ill. “Hi, Matthew.” I stopped a few feet from him, my hands in my pockets to refrain from reaching out to touch him. “I didn’t think you would be here until later today.”
“Figured I should get here and help out as much as I can.” He looked down at his feet.
“Everyone else is still asleep, but I made some coffee.”
“Coffee?”
I had to smile at the obvious longing in his eyes, and while I wished it was me that he was longing for, I was willing to take what I could get.
At least he was talking to me.
“Come inside.”
It felt a little strange, me inviting him into what was his childhood home, but I suspected if I didn’t, he would stand in the drive all day.
