“I know.” I looked out at the busy field, searching for Matt on the sidelines. “It means a lot to him, you know. Even if you don’t understand me, the fact that you came says something. I’m not comfortable either, if that makes you feel better. But listen, why don’t you stay with us again tonight? It’s a long drive back to Pittsburgh and we’ve got the room. We were just going to eat leftovers and maybe watch a movie, but you’re welcome.”
He clasped his fingers together, staring down at his hands. “I’d like that.” He paused for what seemed like a full sixty seconds before adding, “There’s something else. Another reason why I’m here.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s our dad. He has cirrhosis… it’s really bad, man. He’s got variceal bleeding now and hypertension; plus, he’s lost like fifty pounds. Doctor told him that he needed to stop drinking right away and that he could maybe delay it. I mean, it wouldn’t be treatable, but he could manage, you know? But so far, he hasn’t even filled the prescription he was given and he’s been drinking more than ever. He’s not even a candidate for surgery at this point. I’ve gotta tell Matt. Fuck, what am I supposed to say?”
My mouth opened in shock, unable to form the words to comfort him. “Is he… going to die, Marc? Is that what you’re telling me?”
He took a swig out of a bottle of Coke and looked straight ahead. “That is what I’m telling you. I wasn’t even gonna come here. I didn’t know if he would even care after the way Dad treated him. But I put myself in his shoes and thought that if it were me, I would want to know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s still our dad. I thought maybe he might want to try again.”
“Try again?” I asked. “What do you want him to do? Your dad made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in mending fences. I realize that Matt might wanna try, but what makes you think that now would be any different?”
“It might not be,” he answered. “But I still think he needs to have the option.”
“Okay. Do you want me to tell him or something? Is that why you told me?”
“I just wanted you to know. Shit, maybe I just felt like telling someone. Besides, we’re gonna be brothers soon, right?” He smiled, clapping me (a little too hard) on the back. “Thanks for listening.”
I bumped my shoulder to his. “I am sorry, Marc. For all of this.”
“Me too.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Cirrhosis?” Matt asked, leaning forward as if it would change the diagnosis.
Marc nodded. “Started losing the weight about two years ago. Mom thought it was stress, but he wasn’t right, you know? He was angry all the time… started to hit her.”
“Mom?” Matt stood immediately and paced the room. “What the fuck, Marc? Why didn’t you beat the fuck out of him?”
“Because she never told me. I didn’t know. Once she found out he was sick, she opened up. I guess she thought that I wouldn’t be able to hit a dead man.”
“Did you?” Matt asked.
“Fuck yeah, I did.”
A small smile crept over his lips. “Good.” The grin faded fast as Matt raked his hands over the scratchy hair on his face. “What are we supposed to do? Should I go home? I mean, how bad is this thing?”
“I only told you so that you knew. I don’t expect you to do anything, but I’m putting it out there.” Marc’s voice went soft. “But he’s bad, Matt. Sleeping all goddamn day… he doesn’t even go to work anymore. He couldn’t work even if he wanted to; he’s never sober enough. He bruises up if he so much as hits the counter the wrong way. His eyes are sunken… it’s not pretty.”
“Shit.” Matt turned to me. “I don’t know what to do with all of this.” He scrubbed his face in his palms. “I don’t know. Can we talk more in the morning? I’m exhausted and Fin has to start his new job at eight.”
“Go ahead and stay up with Marc,” I responded, lifting my hand to palm his face. I kissed him lightly, our first show of real affection in front of his brother. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”
He turned back to Marc. “You off tomorrow?”
Marc nodded. “I took a few days, but I’ve overstayed my welcome already. I’ll be gone first thing.”
“I’m off tomorrow too, so maybe you could stay for a while before heading back. I’ll take you down to Lucas or something, but right now, I need to sleep on this.”
Once we said our farewells, I brushed my teeth and tossed my clothes into the hamper. Typically, I slept without clothing when it was just the two of us, but since we had a guest, I sifted through our shared dresser for a fresh pair of cotton pants.
“Don’t,” Matt whispered. “I need to feel you, okay?”
I nodded, placing the bottoms back into the drawer. I slid into bed with him, snuggling into his chest. He clicked the bedside lamp off and pulled me closer, squeezing me tightly. “Too hard,” I complained halfheartedly.
“Never too hard,” he returned. His body trembled for a moment before I realized what was transpiring. My man – strong as an ox – was sobbing, his chest convulsing as he tightened his grip on my body. “I never said I was sorry,” he choked. “I never—”
“Hey… you have nothing to be sorry about, baby. Look at me.” Our eyes adjusted in the darkness as I held his face in my hands. “Listen to me. You being gay isn’t something you need to apologize for. I hope you know that.”
He nodded, desperate to catch his breath. “But what if I wasn’t gay? What if—”
“But you are, Matt. There’s nothing you can do to change that. Honestly, would you change it now if you could? Even if it would save him?”
He closed his tear-streaked eyes and shook his head gently. “No. I’d never give you up.”
“Good.” I kissed his neck softly and moved my lips to his ear. “I’ll talk to Sally. I know I haven’t even started yet, but we need to go to Pittsburgh. You need to see him. Tell Mike that you need a few days off. They have plenty of people to fill in, right? It’s just a few days. Maybe leave Thursday? You could fly directly to Denver for the game and I’ll drive back by myself.”
“I don’t want you to—”
“I’m a big boy,” I interjected. “I can make a five hour drive alone.”
Matt pressed his lips against mine with fervor, forcing my mouth open with his eager tongue. I accepted it, moaning lightly as I breathed in his taste. “I need you,” he murmured.
I laughed lightly and pushed on his chest. “You are not quiet and I am not doing that with your brother in the next room.”
He kissed me again, trailing his lips across my face in amusement. “Please don’t turn me down two nights in a row.” His lips moved down, sucking my nipple into his mouth. “And I’m sorry, but you’re saying I’m not quiet? You scream like you’re auditioning for a horror film.”
I smacked him lightly across the face. “Take that back.”
“Oh ho ho, you did not just smack me.” He tugged me close and pressed his mouth to my neck, suctioning loudly before pulling off. “Now you have a hickey for your first day, so you’re welcome.”
“Seriously?” I turned away from him teasingly, fluffing my pillow and feigning sleep.
His body pressed against mine, his front to my back. He was warm. Hard.
So hard.
“Go to bed,” I mumbled.
“Kiss me.”
I turned back toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding against his erection as I swirled my tongue against his in a deep embrace. Keeping my voice to a whisper, I replied, “I’m sorry about your dad, baby. I don’t know what to say, honestly. I wish I had the answers, but I don’t.” I traced a single finger down his chest. “I do love you more than anything, if that helps.”
“More than you know.”
♂♂
I sat at the piano watching Sally clap her hands as I played. “One, two, three!” she squealed, picking up a toddler with a wide grin.
She was different than I had imagined. Very tall and t
hin with a dainty, blonde pixie cut pulled back with a few flower pins. Her teeth were straight and white – there was no way you could miss them; she smiled every four to five seconds.
Sally put everything she had into that job; you could read it in every expression that crossed her face. This was her dream – to teach music to children – her entire life. She had a career as a second-grade teacher previously, but gave it all up for half of the pay. In her (very strong) opinion, it was worth every penny she lost.
As I started the next song, a small boy came and sat on the bench with me. “What’s your name?” he asked.
I continued to play, bending down toward his ear. “It’s Fin. What’s your name?”
“It’s Finn!” he squealed back, bouncing on the seat. “Just like you!”
I sucked in a breath of surprise. “Is that right? Well, what’s your full name, Finn?”
“Finnegan Stanley Seaver.”
“Well, Finnegan Stanley Seaver, I’m Finlay Carrick MacAuliffe.”
“Wow, that’s a hard name,” he complained. “Is it okay if I just call you Fin?”
“Yes, sir.”
He ran away, screaming excitedly for his mother. “Momma! His name is Fin too!”
I smiled at her and nodded as she kissed her son on his cherubic cheeks, bouncing him on her hip in time with the song. The pieces were mostly beginning level, something a first-year pianist could have managed. Still, the day went by quickly as I watched class after class scream in delight over their forty-five minute session with Miss Sally.
And me. I supposed we were in this boat together now.
She smiled in my direction as the song ended, clapping again and mouthing a thank you through her pink painted lips.
“That’s it, guys! Did we all have fun?” she shouted.
A chorus of cheerful cries flowed through the room.
“I said… did we all have fun?” Her words were nearly a roar as the kids squealed in place. “Good. I’ll see you next week.” She blew them kisses and they caught them in the air, blowing them back.
I could see why they loved her. She had endless energy and a way with the children that most of the parents likely didn’t comprehend. Walking toward me, she tipped a bottle of water to her lips. “Are you ready for this thing to be over or what?” She laughed and smiled brightly. “Those little fuckers wear you right out.”
I closed the lid of the old, out-of-tune spinet, smiling at her in awe. “How do you do this every day?”
“Same way you will. God, you were good today.”
“Well, I can’t say it was too tough.”
“I know, and I feel like shit in a way. I mean, I’m happy to have you… like ridiculously happy. But I also feel like I’m totally robbing the world of your talents. You should be playing in the symphony and, instead, I’m putting you in front of an old vertical and making you play You Are My Sunshine. You’re better than that, but I’m selfish, so I’m not giving you back.”
“I know it’s my first day and I hate to spring this on you, but—”
“Oh, fuck. Are you leaving already? Say no, say no, say no!”
“No, Sally. This has been great. But my fiancé’s dad is sick – like really sick – and we need to go to Pittsburgh. I’m not sure for how long, but it shouldn’t be more than a few days. Will you hold this job for me? If not, I completely understand.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? A few days? I’m just glad you aren’t quitting on me. I need you and I have big ideas for Fin MacAuliffe. I want you to be an instructor. I think you would be amazing; plus, I can finally pay you.”
“Sally, I don’t know anything about doing that.”
“Um, duh,” she responded, drinking another sip of water. “You were a fucking teacher too. You taught music to kids every day, right?”
“Yeah, but these are little kids. Like really little. I taught high school.”
She shrugged. “Little kids are nicer, for sure. Teenagers are dicks.”
I laughed and picked up my messenger bag, shoving a few music books into the unzipped pocket. “I’ll call you when I get back. I really appreciate you giving me this time off, you know? Honestly... Matt will appreciate it too.”
“Matt?” she questioned.
“Oh… Matt’s my fiancé. I guess I thought I told you that.”
“Engaged to a boy?” she teased, placing her finger to her lips.
“Wedding’s in two weeks,” I returned shyly.
“Scandalous.”
“So I’ve heard.” I smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “See you in a few days.”
She blew me a kiss on my way out the door. I stopped, caught it, and then blew one back.
♂♂
I had barely closed the door behind me when Matt came out from the bedroom.
“He’s in hospice,” he announced. “We’ve gotta go. I’ve packed, but you might want to double check the bags because I’m sure I’m forgetting something. I got socks and underwear for every day and put some stuff on the bed, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted to wear. You can wear jeans, I guess… or sweaters. Anything, really. I know that sometimes you like to wear dress pants… but I wasn’t sure if—”
“Matt. Stop.” I walked to him, pressing my palm against his broad chest. “Take a breath. Are you okay?”
“Marc left around noon. I called Mike and told him we’d be gone. He said not to worry about it, but if I can make that game on Sunday, I’m gonna try. I suppose it’ll only be a few days. You don’t think it’ll be more than that, do you? I’m not sure how hospice works. I think it’s one of those check-in but don’t check-out scenarios, but Mom says—”
I put both of my hands on his shoulders. “Baby. Sit down for a second, okay?” When he turned to fidget with God-knows-what, I pressed harder and forced him to look at me. “Sit, Matt. Come on, honey.”
He slumped onto the couch, lowering his head to his hands. His body quivered – a flickering mess beneath his wrinkled t-shirt. I let the sobs wrack through his shoulders as I traced my fingers over the cotton material. Neither of us spoke. We just sat together.
Matt, crammed full of anguish; me, absorbing as much of his suffering as I could endure. I would welcome every ounce of misery if I could just see one glimmer of the optimistic man I was accustomed to.
“Do you need to lie down?” I asked. “Even if we leave now, it will be late when we get there. An hour isn’t going to make a difference.”
“No,” he responded, wiping the back of his hand across his cheek. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll drive, okay? Let me go check the bags.”
Matt clasped my hand as I turned toward the bedroom. “What if he dies, Fin?”
I knew what hospice was. Max DiFiore wasn’t coming back.
“Let’s just go see him, okay? We’ll deal with everything once we’re there.”
“What if he dies and the only thing he knows about me is that I share my bed with a man? That I cheated on my wife? That I lied to everyone? What if that’s it?”
I gripped his upper arm with force. “If that’s all he ever knows about you, that’s his loss. You weren’t the one who shut him out. I’m not saying this to be harsh, Matt, but you’re better than him. You’re loving and warm and—”
“He used to be those things too!” he shouted. “Until I ruined that… two years ago.”
“That’s simply not true, honey. Cirrhosis doesn’t happen overnight. He was an alcoholic. Marc told me he’d always been abusive. You can’t blame yourself for his depression – his drinking – he did that all on his own. Get your bags and we’ll leave in a few minutes. I’ll call on the way and see if we can stay at the same hotel. I’m hoping that you get your answers when we’re there, baby, but if you don’t,” I said, placing my hands around the sides of his neck, “you’ll always have them here.”
♂♂
“We’re almost there, baby,” I said softly, placing my hand on his thigh.
The lights of the ci
ty shone brightly as Matt slowly came to. His face was worn from sleep, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
“Sorry I slept so long. I just meant to close my eyes for a few minutes.” As we pulled into the hotel turnabout, Matt clicked his seatbelt. “Maybe we should have stayed with my mom instead of the hotel. You think she’ll be mad?”
“I think she’ll be glad you’re here. It’s late. We can just sleep and go to the hospice center in the morning.”
“Should we go now?” he asked sluggishly.
I put the car in park and turned to him. “That’s up to you. Do you want to go now? Marc said the visitation is twenty-four hours for family.”
He nodded. “I think so. Are you tired? I can go alone. You just drove five hours.”
“No, honey,” I responded, putting the car back into drive, “I’m here to be with you. I want to be wherever you are.”
As we drove the short five minutes to the facility, Matt turned toward me, slumped in his seat with a smile. “You were listening to a podcast earlier. Was it about gay travel? What the hell is different about gay travel rather than just… travel? Nicer luggage?”
I smiled. “I was thinking about going to a resort for our honeymoon, but I wanted a place we could hold hands and kiss without thinking about it, you know? A place that felt safe, I guess. Stress-free.”
“Hmm, kissing in public. That would be nice. It’s weird that the only safe place to kiss in most cities is a gay bar. Think about how strange that is. Straight people can kiss anywhere, but we’re pretty much just limited to our houses and some random club.”
I laughed quietly. “I was thinking about something my dad said. He’s convinced that within the next few years, being gay won’t be any different than being straight. There won’t be gay resorts because we won’t need them.”
“I wish I was as optimistic as your dad. I fear there will always be a little bit of a struggle for us.”
“Mexico has a lot of resorts. Cancun, Puerto Vallarta. But there’s also a cruise option from Singapore to Hong Kong. Oooh, or Rome to Istanbul.”
Fin&Matt Page 18
