Reunion

by Michael Bailey

  I was utterly lost. “You’ll have to enlighten me. What part of the apology confused you?”

  “The part where I’d been your boyfriend.”

  I thought for a moment before answering, “Well, you were, weren’t you?”

  “Only in so much as we didn’t do anything with anyone else. We didn’t go out. We didn’t go on dates. We kept it hidden so that no one else would find out.”

  “So, you think differently?”

  “Now, maybe. Back then, no. Back then, I was happy to get any part of you I could. I knew the risks you were taking by being with me. I also knew the sacrifices I had to make to be with you. I knew we wouldn’t be able to walk down the halls holding hands like other couples. I knew we’d never go to parties or dances together. I knew all of that, and yet I decided to stay with you anyway. At least, until I couldn’t.”

  As if on cue, Debbie Gibson’s “Lost in Your Eyes” started playing over the sound system. I didn’t give any thought to what I did, simply acted on impulse.

  I extended my hand, palm up, and asked, “Would you like to now?”

  Charlie looked at me, confusion written all over his face. “Like to what?”

  “Dance with me.”

  He looked at the rapidly filling dance floor, then back at me, then down to my hand. “Here?”

  “No,” I answered, then tilted my head in the direction of the dance floor. “There.”

  There was that beaming smile again, bright as the early morning sun, shining back at me. Without a word, he took me by the hand.

  I led us to the dance floor. Couples parted, making room for us. No one seemed to mind that we were two men. If they did, they didn’t show it.

  I pulled Charlie close, feeling the heat of his body wrap me like a cocoon. I felt dazed and lighter than air. I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt in a very long time, as if finally, finally, I had made the right decision and set us on the path we should have been on all along.

  I pulled him tighter, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leaned in, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. I felt the ghost of his breath against my chest as he sighed, and I knew that I had made the right call. I rested my chin on the top of his head as we swayed, back and forth, back and forth, making a small circle in our own little space on the dance floor. All of the other couples simply drifted into the background. All that mattered was this moment, dancing here with this man, and giving him something I sensed he’d wanted a long time ago.

  My phone vibrated in my back pocket, but I ignored it. Whoever it was could wait until the end of the song.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Thomas and Ethan standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching us as we danced. Thomas smiled warmly, and Ethan gave me the thumbs-up. Their reaction reinforced what I already knew to be right.

  The song ended much too soon, but we stayed on the dance floor for a few moments longer, swaying back and forth, lost to whatever music was running through our heads.

  Charlie finally looked up at me, that smile still there. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But actually, it’s me who should be thanking you. You could have bolted last night, and I would have no one to blame but myself. But you didn’t. For whatever reason, you stuck around. You offered me a place to stay, and you invited me to spend time with you today. None of which you had to do. So, thank you, Charlie, for giving me the chance.”

  He leaned up as if he was going to kiss me, then stopped. He looked around at our surroundings, realizing where we were, and backed down. But the moment was here, and I could either take it, or leave it behind and forever regret not doing what I wanted.

  I stopped our swaying and slid my hands down his arms. Leaning in close, I whispered, “What were you about to do?”

  “Nothing,” he whispered back.

  “You’re such a bad liar.” I placed my hands on either side of his face, gently holding him in place, and leaned in further. I felt the brush of our lips as they came into contact. Charlie’s body vibrated as he hummed, and I took that as a sign to continue. I kept the kiss chaste, not wanting to cause a scene and embarrass Charlie. He seemed perfectly content with that, if the gentle moans coming from deep in the back of his throat were any indication.

  Charlie ended the kiss first and leaned his forehead against my chest. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Kissed a man?”

  “No, made a public spectacle of myself.”

  “Regrets?”

  He looked up at me and smiled. “None.”

  I gently pulled away from him, missing the contact the moment I did. Taking him by the hand, I led him off the dance floor and in the direction of Thomas and Ethan. In a rare move, Thomas took me by the shoulder and threw his arms around me, patting me on my back. He leaned in and whispered, “If that was what I think that was, I’m happy for you. It’s about time.”

  I hugged him back.

  Remembering the phone call while Charlie and I danced, I pulled away from Thomas, sliding my phone from my back pocket, and turned to Charlie. Ethan was standing behind him gripping his shoulders, both smiling to the beat of the music.

  I held up my phone and said, “Hold on a sec.”

  Swiping the screen, I saw I’d missed a call from the hotel. I went into voicemail and read the transcription, feeling my stomach sink as I did.

  I turned back.

  “Noah, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked, obviously sensing something was up.

  “I missed a call from the hotel. They…they have a room. It’s mine if I want it.”

  Charlie came to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on either side of my neck, lacing his fingers at the back. When he spoke, his words were heated, full of want and need. “No,” he said. “Stay. With me.”

  You know when you first wake up, you lie there, wallowing in a limbo-like state. Not really awake, not really asleep, but somewhere in between. You’re too comfortable under the weight of the blankets and your head has found the perfect spot on the pillow. You don’t want to move for fear of ruining the fragile state you’re in.

  Pleasant memories may come back, wrapping you in their warmth.

  A kiss at the hotel room door.

  The gentle scrape as he slides your shirt over your arms.

  The tender nip of his teeth on your neck.

  The feel of his arms as they wrap around you.

  His hands as they squeeze your ass.

  His hardness pressed against your hip.

  The heated look in his eye as he unbuckles your belt, unbuttons your pants, and slides his hand into your boxer briefs.

  The feel of his hand as he takes hold of your erection.

  The sound of the moan that escapes from your lips as he takes you in his mouth.

  The feel of his skin against the palm of your hands, using his shoulders to steady yourself, as he brings you to the edge and allows you to fall over, knowing he was there to catch you.

  These were the memories I replayed, over and over, as I lay in that limbo-like state.

  I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want anything to break me from that dream-like state. I feared the moment I woke up, the moment I opened my eyes, all of my memories from the night before would evaporate like mist. None of it would be real.

  So, I forced my eyes to stay closed and allowed myself to relive those moments. Sear them into my brain so that I would never forget them. I hoped, prayed, that the outside world would let me have this, these few moments all to myself.

  In the distance, I heard the chime of a cell phone. I pretended it wasn’t real, that it didn’t exist, because admitting it was real would pull me from that magical place.

  I rolled onto my back, stretching my arm across the width of the bed. When it landed on nothing but mattress and sheets, my eyes shot open, pulling me from my memories. I groaned as the light from the window hit me, and I slammed my eyes closed again.

 
I was alone.

  My heart sank. I wondered if my memories were real at all. Had I simply dreamed the previous night with Noah? The dance at the reunion, the kiss in the middle of the dance floor, and the lovemaking after. Or had it all been too real, too much for Noah to handle, and he took the hotel up on the offer of another room, stealthily leaving me in the middle of the night? My heart raced at the thought. I thought we had made progress. I thought we were finally going to have our moment.

  But he wasn’t there.

  I was in an empty bed.

  Alone.

  Then I heard the shower running and chanced to squint my eyes open. The bathroom door was closed, the sound of the shower running coming from behind it.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  Maybe I hadn’t been wrong after all. Maybe the previous night hadn’t been too much for him. Maybe we were finally at the same place.

  The bathroom door opened, and Noah stepped out, steam billowing behind him as if he had just stepped out of a cloud. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was using another to dry his hair one-handed. His other hand held a Q-Tip to his ear. He stopped, in that exact pose, when he saw me. He would have looked almost comical with that damn Q-Tip in his ear if I didn’t know what was under that towel. Instead… “Oh,” he said. “You’re awake.”

  I took a second to take him in. The stubble on his face and the hair on his chest were both shot through with gray. Evidence of a six-pack, now long gone, still lingered. But in its place was something softer, more masculine, at least to me. The scar from his injury ran the length of his knee. But despite all of this…no, because of all of this, he was simply one word. “Beautiful.”

  The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I realized what I said a split second later when he quirked an eyebrow and the corner of his lips twitched up into a smile. “Excuse me?” he questioned, smiling shyly.

  I tried to cover, because I was almost certain that he was unaccustomed to being called “beautiful.” At least not in his world. “I said, fucking hot.”

  The blush that bloomed from his chest, up his neck, and enveloped his cheeks only served to add to his beauty.

  He stepped into the room and came to stand on my side of the bed, hovering over me for a moment. Then he leaned down and kissed me. The heat from the previous night was still there, but caged, restrained, held back by something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  “You’re beautiful too,” he whispered against my lips.

  So he had heard me. I felt my own cheeks flush. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that wasn’t used to hearing that word.

  He pulled away, going to his suitcase on the other side of the room. “What’re your plans for the day?” he asked, reaching into his luggage pulling out articles of clothing.

  I slid up the bed and propped a pillow against the wall to lean on. “I’m not sure yet. I kind of left it open because I wasn’t sure how last night would go.”

  He turned to me holding a pair of boxer briefs, and dropped the towel that was wrapped around his waist. My mouth went dry, memories from the previous night flooding back. “And how do you think it went?” he asked slyly.

  “Um…I’d say it was a success,” I answered, giving my own smile. “But that’s not what I meant. I just wasn’t sure if I’d be hung over or not.”

  He slid on his boxer briefs, blue with a black band. I almost asked him not to, but I lost my chance when he slid into a pair of jeans. “So…um…you have the afternoon open?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “Good. Because there’s someone…”

  He trailed off, and I grew concerned. He was hedging about something, and I had no clue what. “Noah, what is it?”

  He came to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. “Before I go further, I have a question.”

  “I can see that.”

  He looked nervous as he folded his hands into his lap and looked down at them. “Where do you want this to go?”

  “This? Us?”

  He looked me in the eye before answering, “Yes.”

  I reached out, covering his hands with mine. “I’d like to see where this goes,” I answered honestly. Because I did. I didn’t want to recreate what we had been thirty years ago. That hadn’t ended well. I wanted to start something new, but I wanted to start it with him.

  He sighed, as if the answer I had given was one he had hoped for. “Good. Because I have something to tell you.”

  My stomach dropped. Nothing good ever came of the words, I have something to tell you. Maybe he wasn’t so single after all. Had I slept with a virtually married man? Maybe he was actually straight now, and I was nothing more than a temporary experiment.

  He inhaled and held it. I recognized the move as an attempt to calm himself before launching in to what he had to say. “I have a son,” he said simply, then looked down to where my hands were covering his.

  I certainly hadn’t expected that. It was a good thing I was sitting down because if I wasn’t, I certainly would have needed to after hearing that. “Excuse me?”

  “I have a son,” he repeated.

  I’ll admit, my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I’ll blame the lack of coffee instead of the news he had just dropped into my lap. “You have a what?”

  “A son. Well, maybe son is overselling it a tad.”

  “You were married?” It wouldn’t have surprised me. I already knew his friends were married and divorced.

  Noah barked out a laugh. “No, nothing like that.”

  “I’m confused.”

  He reached for his phone sitting on the nightstand, and that’s when I remembered the alert I had heard earlier. He tapped on the screen and paused for a moment. “He sent me a message earlier.”

  “Who?”

  “Nicholas.”

  “Nicholas who?”

  He turned the phone to me so that I could read the message.

  -Nicholas

  When are you coming home? I miss you.

  Then he pulled the phone away and tapped the screen. He turned the screen to me again. On the screen was a picture of a boy, preteen at the most. He had the same smile as Noah and the same blue eyes. “So,” I said, still somewhat bewildered, “you have a son.”

  “What I’m about to tell you is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. But I want you to know, you deserve to know. Because it explains why I couldn’t be with you. But I also don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I want you to know Nicholas, and I want to find out where you and I could be.”

  “I already know why we couldn’t be together.”

  “Not all of it.”

  Covering myself with a blanket, I sat next to him, barely breathing. Something monumental was about to happen, so I didn’t say a word. I feared that if I did, if I uttered a sound, somehow it would derail everything. This felt too important.

  “I already told you about my parents.”

  I could only nod.

  “What few people know is that I had a sister.”

  I sucked in a breath. I never knew. How could I not know? How could he have kept a family member secret. I wondered if Thomas and Ethan knew. They had to have, didn’t they? They were his best friends, had been since before high school. Of course they did. It only made sense.

  Then I realized he’d used the word “had.” Past tense.

  “Grace was six years older than me and already in college out of state by the time you and I met,” he started. “She was my parents’ perfect daughter. She never got into trouble. She was a straight A student. She made friends easily, maybe too easily. Everyone seemed to like her. And, honestly, who wouldn’t. She was bright and radiant and beautiful. She was destined for great things. Or at least, she was if you asked my parents.

  “She was also fierce and strong and opinionated. She and my parents went ’round and ’round when it came time for her to pick colleges. They fought for weeks, almost nonstop. She wanted to go to a c
ollege out of state, to experience life, and they wanted her to stay close to home. They were afraid she would be influenced by ‘unsavory heathens.’ She won in the end. She ended up at the University of Illinois working on a degree in psychology. She became an outspoken ally for the LGBTQ community while she was there.” Noah paused for a moment before adding, “That rankled my parents something fierce.”

  “Did she know?”

  “About me?” His smile was sad. He clasped his hands in his lap as he answered. “No. There wasn’t any time.”

  The sadness in his voice made me want to reach out to him, but I feared if I did, the act would somehow deter him from continuing. I knew, on some instinctive level, that he needed to get this out. But I also knew that this would be an incredibly difficult story to tell. Most truths are.

  “I’d like to think she would have been accepting of it,” he whispered.

  “I’m sure she would have since she was so outspoken.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Ya never know. There’s a difference between having friends that are gay and having gays in the family.”

  “That may be,” I argued, “but I think she would have been okay.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, there weren’t any signs of trouble during her first two years of school. She kept up the grades she had in high school. She made friends, but didn’t let them distract her from what she wanted. She’d always been goal orientated. When she saw something she wanted, she went after it, like her choice of colleges.

  “But then, just after she started her junior year, during my freshman year in high school, our father had a heart attack. He…he didn’t make it.”

  The gasp that came from me was involuntary. The shock of what he had just said, of what he had kept to himself when we knew each other before, was overwhelming. Sure, my father and I had issues. I highly doubted there weren’t many fathers and sons that didn’t. But to lose him so suddenly. I just couldn’t imagine.

  “Grace…she didn’t take it so well. She felt awful because she wasn’t home when it happened. She never got to say a proper goodbye to him. He was literally here one minute, then gone the next. There wasn’t time for anything. I think she took it the worst because she was gone. It was like the arguments my parents had for her not going out of state had all suddenly come true.”