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Their celebratory kiss afterward had blown his mind more than his ability to walk again. He’d never planned on kissing Spencer, but when he finally reached him, the kiss seemed preordained, as if there could be no other conclusion to such a phenomenon as the return of his mobility.
The kiss itself was a force all its own, strikingly similar to his first kiss with Justin on the Riverwalk as the passing mariachi music heralded the occasion. Like his kiss with Justin, it held a promise of more to come. It wasn’t merely a kiss of celebration. It marked the beginning of something neither of them could identify.
When he and Spencer left the clinic, they didn’t discuss the kiss, not because they were embarrassed, but because words failed to express their feelings. In fact, they were silent for much of the ride back to Dutch’s house. They only spoke after Dutch asked Spencer to come for dinner tonight, to thank him for his help.
Spencer agreed to the invitation quickly, probably more out of his need to leave and contemplate what occurred than actual excitement about dining together.
When they agreed to Friday night for dinner, they planned it without realizing the day’s significance. It was New Year’s Eve, Justin’s favorite holiday and a special night for Justin and Spencer’s relationship.
But Justin wasn’t here. And no one knew where he was. Since learning of the lies he and Spencer kept, he had taken off for parts unknown and hadn’t been seen or heard from since.
Dutch had suspected something like this might happen. Justin wasn’t the type of man who appreciated secrets, although he was good at keeping his own. Even though Justin had a selfish streak a mile wide, Dutch understood Justin’s anger.
The lies he and Spencer hid were monumental. They covered up their past and present relationship, not only out of fear for how Justin might react but because they truly didn’t understand the depths of their relationship either.
But now that he had time to think about it, he saw everything clearly, as if the repaired damage to his spine had somehow removed the blinders from his vision.
Somewhere along his deluded path of revenge against Spencer, he had fallen in love with him.
The evidence was so obvious he was amazed that he hadn’t seen it before. Why else would he have continued a relationship with the man Justin had left him for? He’d abandoned his quest for revenge because he didn’t want to hurt Spencer. What else but love would have prompted that? He had been too caught up in his pain to realize that he ached because his heart wanted two men he couldn’t have. That was why he fell to alcohol and sex. He was lost without them in his life, and he now realized that he had to find some way to forge a life with both of them in it.
How could he live without Justin, the man he was inexplicably drawn to on the banks of the Riverwalk? How could he live without Spencer, the man he magically walked to on the other end of the parallel bars?
Those rare moments in a person’s life meant something. They shouldn’t be overlooked because they were unusual. A relationship between three men was uncommon but not unheard of. Perhaps there was a way the three of them could live together.
It was a subject he wanted to bring up to Spencer tonight, and the origin of all the questions that rattled within his head. He was clueless how to broach such a bizarre topic. He couldn’t just casually mention it after asking Spencer if he wanted another glass of wine.
Instead, he hoped conversation would somehow turn to the subject. Stranger things had happened, after all. The universe had brought them all together, so he felt confident the fates wouldn’t let him down now.
SPENCER was tired of being tossed about by the whims of fate; the universe would no longer knock him around like some cosmic Hacky Sack. It was time for him to take charge of his life again, to settle matters with Dutch and then find Justin and make things better.
It was past time for him to quit sitting on the sidelines of his life as if he were a spectator instead of a participant. Instead of taking action, of telling Justin or Dutch what he felt or what he wanted, he’d sat quietly by as people acted on the stage he had set instead of directing the actions as he should have been the entire time.
He never should have waited for Justin to choose him. It was idiotic to push away the man he wanted, no matter how hurt he was. If he loved Justin as much as he claimed he did, he should have been fighting tooth and nail for him all along.
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew that the bond he and Justin had forged still existed. He felt it in every corner of his soul. It was how he knew Justin was okay even though no one had heard from him in far too long. Justin was staying away by choice, not because he was wounded. Or worse. He simply needed time to think, to assess, and, hopefully, to recover from the lies he and Dutch had squirreled away. When his pain eased enough for him to get past that, Justin would return to him.
In that, he had absolute faith.
Oh God, his father said. I’m gonna fucking barf!
If you don’t like it, then leave, Spencer replied. I won’t stop you.
You’re pretty stupid for someone with as much schooling as you’ve had! Is that how you think this works? That I can just leave? I’m not really your father, you know?
I don’t have time for this, Spencer replied. I’m already late as it is.
I know, his father commented with a chuckle. Late for a date with Dutch.
Spencer turned on the radio in his car, hoping the racket would drown out, if not drive away completely, his father’s irritating discourse. Katy Perry’s song “Firework” blared from the speakers. Hearing the melody made him miss Justin even more, especially since the pop hit was the ringtone Justin had assigned to his phone for Spencer.
Talk about a kick in the pants, his father’s voice screamed in his ear, refusing to be covered up by Katy’s contralto voice. Justin’s song for you plays while you drive to Dutch’s house for a dinner date. On the very same night commemorating your eleventh year of meeting Justin.
Spencer turned off the radio quickly. While he hated to admit it, his father was right. Even though he had things to settle with Dutch, he shouldn’t be spending the evening, this evening with Dutch. New Year’s Eve was his and Justin’s special night. The only person he should be spending tonight with was Justin.
But he had no other choice.
He had to go through with the dinner. He and Dutch needed to work through what happened at rehab. They needed to sort through their emotions and come to some understanding of what their relationship actually was. Those conversations had to occur before Justin returned.
Once he knew where he and Dutch stood with each other, he would be better prepared to mend his relationship with Justin.
Right now, that was priority number one, whether the dinner fell on an important anniversary for him and Justin or not. This evening with Dutch had to happen. For all their sakes.
After all, Justin had been gone for over a month. What was the likelihood that Justin would return to him tonight?
AS HE drove down I-35, Justin knew tonight was the night. He had been gone too long already. His mother and his family had no doubt worked themselves into a state of panic for which they might never forgive him.
He’d hated being out of contact with them for this long. Too many times, he’d picked up the phone to call them and let them know he was okay, but he stopped himself. He simply hadn’t been ready yet. There were too many problems he had to work through before he could reestablish contact with any of them.
If he called before he was ready, his family’s pleas for him to return home would have weakened his resolve. He would have returned to them solely to make them feel better, which would have done nothing for his state of mind.
The only option he had to guarantee a return to some semblance of sanity was to remain disconnected. In order to center himself, to calm the raging waters of pain and turmoil that stirred within, he had to keep his distance and find the elusive answers that had constantly evaded him the past few months.
So he
stayed with Pat and Heather at their house in New Braunfels, and like the good friends they are, they kept his whereabouts a secret from Spencer and his family, despite the never-ending inquiries everyone made about him.
Heather hated lying to everyone, especially his mother. Elena’s tears almost caused her to break her promise on more than one occasion. Every time she hung up the phone after speaking to his mother, Heather told Justin how much she hated him for doing this to her and to everyone who loved him.
Pat came to his defense. He told Heather that Justin needed space. It was a “man thing” that was difficult for women to understand. Naturally, Heather told him that was bullshit, but she kept to her word.
Justin had never loved them both more than he had in the past few weeks.
They let him recuperate in their spare bedroom, where he stayed the majority of the time. Rarely did he come out to join them to watch television or even eat a meal. Only after they were in bed would he venture into the rest of the house or walk around outside. He had too much to think about, too much to try to put back together, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything or anyone.
His heart lay in so many pieces that it was an arduous task to sift through the mess and find the parts to once again make it whole.
This morning, on New Year’s Eve, no less, he believed he’d finally accomplished such an impossible feat.
He loved Spencer with all his heart, and he loved Dutch just as much, if that was at all possible. While Spencer and Dutch had lied to him, while they had kept their past and present relationship a secret, it was no different from the secrets he’d kept from them or the awful way he treated them both.
His pride had simply gotten the better of him when he learned the truth. Not only was that wrong, but it was entirely selfish, a trait he’d had trouble combating for most of his life.
Now, though, it was time to work past the pain, past the selfishness, and focus on what could actually be when they worked in concert instead of crossed swords in conflict.
If Dutch and Spencer had somehow forged such a strong bond on their own, how could that bond be wrong, especially when he felt just as strongly connected to them both? Maybe there was a way for the three of them to fashion a connection even stronger than the ones that currently existed.
It was that realization that reached inside his soul and tugged him back home. Whenever such an event occurred, like when he first met Spencer or first kissed Dutch, he released all inhibitions and gave himself over entirely to the feeling.
He had always let the magic be his guiding light, and it had never steered him wrong before. Today, he hoped for no less than the miracles it had previously brought to his existence.
CHAPTER 45
2010/2011
AS IF by some miracle, Dutch and Spencer made it through the entire meal of chicken scaloppini with al dente angel hair pasta drizzled in a lemon butter sauce, steamed broccoli, freshly made bread, and a tossed Caesar salad without once delving into serious conversation.
Dutch had some serious topics to bring up with Spencer, and from the determined look in Spencer’s eyes when he arrived, significant thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as well.
Instead of diving headfirst into such weighty discussion, they engaged in small talk about nothing in particular throughout dinner, which eased any lingering anxiety. Dutch shared his search for full-time employment and his continued improvement at rehabilitation to further strengthen his lower extremities. They chatted about Spencer’s progress on several committees on campus and his possible chance at being named department chair once his dear friend, Dr. Peggy Cutting, retired.
“Would you like some more wine?” Dutch asked, lifting the bottle of Sangiovese in Spencer’s direction. When he first offered Spencer a glass of the 2003 Antinori Santa Cristina, Spencer had refused, not wishing to upset Dutch’s progress along the twelve-step path. He assured Spencer he would be fine.
Ever since he woke up from the coma half paralyzed, his desire to drink had never once returned. Although he knew substance addiction was a monkey that never truly jumped off your back, he now felt strong enough to resist the temptation.
He was even strong enough to stand on his own two feet. Again. That was all the motivation he needed to never take a drink again.
“I’d love some,” Spencer responded. He held out his glass while Dutch poured another generous portion. “This wine is excellent, and the color is so vibrant.” He once again stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled deeply. “Very fruity too!”
Dutch laughed. “Just like you.”
Spencer’s eyebrows knitted in pretend anger. If he were really angry, the fury line, as Dutch called it, would crease down from between Spencer’s eyebrows almost to his nose. Over the past few months, he had become an expert on most things Spencer. No fury line meant no anger. “How dare you make such an accusation?” Spencer replied in mock resentment. “I’m not a fruit. I’m gay. There is a difference, you know?”
“Okay, Dr. Harrison, esteemed professor, former colleague, and future department chair, just what is the difference?”
Spencer harrumphed, still pretending to be upset, and rose from the table. He placed his left hand behind his back while the right hand gently cupped the bowl of the wine glass. He then proceeded to lecture like a professor. “A fruit, Mr. Keller, is a derogatory and inflammatory term used to express derision and prejudice at someone of the homosexual persuasion. The term itself connotes a man who falls far short of the masculine stereotype of the hairy oversized brute and therefore someone to be shunned and ostracized.”
“Hey!” Dutch exclaimed. “Are you calling me a hairy oversized brute?”
“Please do not interrupt, Mr. Keller,” Spencer playfully chided as he strolled through the dining room as if it were a classroom. “The term ‘gay’ no longer carries such negative stereotypes as it once did. In today’s society, gay simply means someone who is attracted to others of the same gender. The word gay doesn’t imply someone is less of a man for sleeping with other men. It doesn’t indicate that a person is somehow inferior to another based on something as slight as sexual attraction.”
He paused at Dutch’s right. His left hand lingered on Dutch’s shoulder for a moment before he quickly withdrew it. “I may not be a hairy brute like some people,” he said as he resumed pacing, “and I may enjoy having sex with men. But I’m not nor will I ever be a fruit.”
“I don’t know,” Dutch said, apparently unconvinced. “The way you’re talking right now sounds pretty fruity to me.”
Spencer gasped in pretend horror, and Dutch laughed. Spencer tried to carry on the charade, but the laughter proved infectious and made any continued attempts at being serious ineffectual. Before they knew it, they were both laughing hysterically with tears streaming down their faces.
Out of breath, Spencer was leaning against the wall opposite Dutch when something miraculous happened. The green sparkle in his eyes that Dutch hadn’t seen for months suddenly returned. It started with a slight flicker of light, like when a star suddenly blinks in and out of existence in the night sky. At first, Dutch wondered if it had really happened or if it was a result of the dining room lights reflecting off his corneas.
When the small flash quickly grew to a radiant burst of joy, Dutch saw the original Spencer, the one who had existed prior to the lies and betrayals, return in full force. He stood there, his green eyes as bright as jade, their former pastel hue gone, and when Dutch looked into those deep green eyes, the force that had pulled him out of his wheelchair and onto his own two feet once again tugged at him, drawing him up from his seat and toward Spencer.
As he crossed the room, forgetting all about the conversation he planned on having, Spencer stood straight, no fear in his eyes, no hint of regret hiding in the rich pools of pure green. He simply waited for the return of the inevitable, the moment when Dutch’s lips would once again meet his.
This time, though, a kiss wouldn’t be enough.
Even though “together” now included Dutch in its definition, he somehow felt secure that the idea would be welcome. And the more he examined the prospect, the more familiar it became and the more it felt right.
Dutch was brought into their lives for a reason. He was sent to add something special to what he and Spencer created. For too long, Dutch had been a perceived threat when they should have been considering what he brought to their lives instead of what he subtracted from their relationship.
But before he could work on fixing anything, he had to find Spencer first. Veering onto I-35 once again, he ran down the possible places Spencer might be spending New Year’s Eve.
Naturally, Tyler and the rest of their shared friends came to mind first, but when he thought carefully about Spencer’s whereabouts, the answer arrived like a fortune teller’s premonition: he was with Dutch.
Justin pointed his car toward Dutch’s house, and as mile after mile brought him ever closer, he realized what a good sign this was.
New Year’s Eve was his and Spencer’s special day. The magic that drew them together first had manifested itself at midnight, which was only a few minutes away, and it was entirely possible that the same power that first joined him and Spencer might reform tonight and help forge the three of them into something two people alone could never create.
As he approached Dutch’s house, he saw Spencer’s car sitting in the driveway. A broad smile stretched across his face. The fact that he knew Spencer was with Dutch revealed the strength of the bond that still connected them to each other. If the magic that brought them together had truly fizzled, he never would have wound up here.