by Daisy May
“For obvious reasons, I’m not going to sit here and help you,” Talbot said. “Why don’t the two of you go home, open a bottle of wine, and have some fun with it?”
He got up and put his cup in the sink. I stood up too, making one last attempt at getting out of this as I walked him to the door. “Couldn’t I just do it on my own? I’m sure I could write something convincing.”
“You won’t know what to say for my part,” Cole said from behind me. His willingness to participate in writing this stuff surprised me.
“I’m sure you’ll need to communicate in order to get the details right,” Talbot said. “You wouldn’t want to write about the single mole on the base of Cole’s spine, and then the immigration office checks and finds there’s nothing there.”
The immigration office wouldn’t actually strip us and check for accuracy—I hoped. Still, I got the message. This wasn’t something to do alone.
We barely spoke as we went to pick up Kerry. I knew what was coming, and I was sure Cole was thinking about it, too. Cole put her to bed and I fought the urge to take care of business while he was reading her a bedtime story. That would’ve been decidedly inappropriate, and yet I was sure it would help with the extreme form of torture I was about to go through.
When Cole came back, he closed the door behind him. “We’re going to have to talk quietly,” he said. “I was thinking, why don’t you grab your laptop and I’ll get mine, and then we can just email each other?”
So I wouldn’t have to actually hear him say those words out loud to me? That’d be a whole lot better than trying to come up with the emails as a team.
“Sounds good,” I said, grabbing my laptop as Cole took his from the shelf.
He sat on the bed with it on his knees, while I took a seat on the chair by his desk. I placed the computer in front of me, but I wasn’t going to have to look at him.
“Let’s start off with some emails from the beginning of our courtship,” he said. “That way, they can be less explicit.”
Because naturally he didn’t want to even think anything explicit about me.
“That’s fine,” I said. “Since I told Kerry that story about you emailing me over Easter, why don’t we start with that?”
The sound of typing came as a response. I waited, my pulse quickening as I thought about what he might say. And when a message appeared in my inbox, I clicked it right away.
Gordon, I hesitate to write this email because I know I’m in a position of power over you. But I’ve been experiencing some feelings for a while, and I can’t suppress them any longer. Ever since the day you arrived at my door, I knew I was opening myself to temptation. Even during our Skype interview, I wondered whether it was a good idea to hire a gorgeous gay man.
I thought it would be okay—and that I could keep control of myself. Well, I can’t, and I don’t know what to do. It’s not just your looks, although I’m crazy about your smile and those amazing emerald-green eyes. I keep thinking about you, and now that you’re gone, even though it’s just for a few days, I want you more and more.
I miss you, Gordon. And when you come back, I hope our relationship can be different from before. The way I feel about you is not how an employer feels toward an employee. I’m in love with you, Gordon, and I can only hope you feel the same.
I let out a breath when I finished reading. “Way too over-the-top,” I said, my voice strained. “How would anyone in the world think that was appropriate? The immigration office would send you to jail just for being a total psycho.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Cole said, sounding slightly hurt.
“That’s, like, stalker levels of obsession,” I said. “If I ever got that email for real, I’d be running for the hills.”
“What’s so bad about it?”
“You don’t just declare your love for somebody before even going on a date,” I told him. “Seriously, don’t drop the L-bomb for six months at the very least.”
“We’d spent some time together before Easter,” Cole said. “It’s reasonable to think I could’ve fallen for you.”
“But you wouldn’t just come out and say that. Not without even knowing if I was interested, too.” I thought for a second. “Besides, you didn’t know I was gay when I got here. I remember when I first mentioned one of my exes and you fell all over yourself trying to act like you’d already known.”
“I didn’t do that,” Cole huffed. “I was surprised you’d be so open with your boss, but I had my suspicions from day one. You really think you’re being subtle?”
“Hmph.” I was plenty subtle.
“When did you know about me, anyway?” he asked.
“You pretty much told me at the start,” I said. “You were a little vague about your relationship with Samantha, but it was enough for me to put two and two together.” And I’d nearly shit myself when I added things up. “Ready to try that email again?”
“Why not?”
Swallowing, I deleted the email and waited for his next attempt.
Gordon, please don’t get the wrong idea from this email. I think you’re a great nanny, and no matter what your answer is, I want you to be assured that you’re welcome to keep working for me.
However, I think we have a bond that goes beyond the professional. Perhaps considering we’re two single gay men, it was only to be expected—but I believe it’s more than proximity, especially considering the fact that you’re out of town and I’m still unable to keep from thinking about you.
When you get back, I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner. Again, please answer the way your heart desires and not because of any potential effect on your job. Your position won’t be affected by your interest or lack thereof in a personal relationship with me.
I licked my lips, which were suddenly dry. “Much better,” I said. “Let’s just take out the sentence about you not being able to stop thinking about me. It’s a little on the creepy side.”
“Really? Because…”
I spun around to look at him. Because that was how he’d actually felt when I was away? He didn’t finish the sentence, instead dipping his head toward the screen. A few seconds later, I had a proper email, one I could reply to.
So I did.
Hi Cole, I wrote. I’m definitely flattered by your offer. I’d love to go to dinner with you. To clarify, this would be a date, right? Let me know. Looking forward to hearing from you.
“Why do you sound so insecure?” Cole asked when he read it. “I already told you I wanted to take you to dinner, and that it would be a personal relationship. What else would I possibly mean?”
I reminded myself that he was talking about his fake persona, not his actual feelings. “I don’t know, I just thought it sounded cute,” I said.
“Trying to be cute?” Cole said. “That’s not how you would act in real life.”
“And how do you know how I’d act?”
He peered at me over the top of his screen. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.”
Shaking my head, I turned back to my computer. “Delete it. I’ll write something else.”
Hi Cole, I’d love to go on a date with you. When and where? I’ll be back on the twenty-eighth at 2 PM. See you soon!
Cole smiled at me, and the warmth of it sent shocks all through my body. “Good, good,” he said. “All this creativity is tiring me out. Let’s go to bed and take this up later.”
I curled up a few feet away from him, my heart weak.
What he’d just said was the problem. For me, these emails took no creativity at all.
Ten—Cole
It was funny how being married affected me in ways I hadn’t expected. Even though it wasn’t real, I knew Gordon would be there every night, waiting for me even when he was off-duty, and that he’d be there in the morning, stretched out at my side.
He was the first person I saw in the morning and the last one I spoke to at night. It was impossible not to form a bond when we spent so much time
together. At least, it was impossible for me.
Our conversations didn’t always get too deep. There was a lot of talking about how our days had gone, and endless discussions about food. He was so childlike in some ways, preferring pizza and burgers over the finer things in life. I promised I’d at least get him gourmet burgers, but after the first few times, he said not to waste my money. He liked the greasy stuff better than anything else. And it was a lot cheaper, too.
Sometimes we talked about our pasts—not even for the sake of passing the immigration interview, but at least on my part, simply because I was curious about where he came from. He was an excellent storyteller, and the anecdotes from his childhood years involved exotic things like “snow” and “toboggans.” I loved to hear him talk. I could have listened to him all day.
The contrast with Samantha was dramatic. We’d gotten along well enough when we were married, or so I’d always believed. Now I saw she’d never been truly interested in hearing about my day. It was such a new experience to feel like someone genuinely cared about my mundane stories.
Things were good with Gordon—good enough to infuriate me.
*
“Hofstetter,” a call came from behind me.
I stopped halfway through the office door, stepping outside once Bill reached me. My colleague looked harried, like he’d been running to catch up with me. If he’d been a few seconds later, I would’ve already gone home for the day.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m fine, but what about you? There’s some gossip going around that you went and got married without telling anyone.”
I grimaced, not happy to have been found out. I’d half-hoped I could get away with this without anyone from the office hearing about it. “Who told you?”
“Janice,” Bill said, “and she figured it out from that ring you’re wearing.”
I glanced at my hand. Of course. The gold ring was simple and classy and very obviously a wedding band, especially considering the finger it was currently sitting on. When we first got married, I had thought about this exact circumstance coming up, but somehow I couldn’t talk myself into taking it off, even for the workday. And now the big reveal I’d feared had happened.
I could’ve just lied to Bill, but I guessed that wouldn’t be good if the immigration office ever came to talk to him. I really should’ve just told my coworkers from the beginning. Things had happened so suddenly, I’d felt strange telling them I was about to get married, and then the day passed and it would’ve been too strange to mention it.
“I did get married,” I admitted. “About a month ago.”
“Well, it took us long enough to figure that out,” Bill said. “You really do keep your life private, don’t you?”
I shrugged noncommittally. That was a good way to put it.
“Let me be the first of us to congratulate you,” Bill went on. “And to wish you many happy years with your… spouse?”
“Husband,” I said. “Still gay.”
“So what happened? It’s a little unfair that we don’t know about him. He must’ve heard all about us.”
Putting my hand in my pocket, I fingered my keys. “I don’t tell him much about you.”
I wanted to get in the car and get out of here. The sooner I could leave, the sooner I could see Gordon.
Kerry—I meant Kerry. It didn’t matter when I would get to see the nanny. I only had totally normal employer feelings for him. Despite being married to him.
“Eager to get out of here, are you?” Bill said. “I remember those days.” He gave me an exaggerated wink.
Shrugging again, I pulled the keys out. “You know how it is.” Even though he definitely didn’t.
I drove home, wondering if I should have Gordon meet my co-workers sometime. I’d met most of their spouses, usually at holiday parties. It might look good to the immigration office if the people in my life knew him. That was what everything seemed to come down to lately… convincing the government.
Putting my foot on the gas, I quivered at the memory of the emails we’d written each other last night. We were going to have to pick up on that soon, and the idea made me all tingly. I didn’t know if I could handle hearing about Gordon’s fantasies, even if they were completely invented.
The idea of him in any kind of sexual situation would get me hard immediately, and one of these days, he was going to notice. It was bad enough sleeping beside him every night without being able to find release. Sometimes I thought he must’ve been able to tell I was turned on from the rapid shallowness of my breathing. Eventually I could will myself to sleep, but sometimes it took a while.
Since he was always there, my only option for taking care of things was in the shower. And with the way things were going, ugh… I could’ve spent twenty-four hours a day in the shower.
When I got out of the car, Gordon and Kerry were still up in the living room. Mac and cheese was in a bowl by the stove, lukewarm. I put it in the microwave to heat again, conscious of how domestic the whole scene was. I could’ve gotten used to this… if it was ever real to begin with.
Being home early enough to actually spend time with Kerry was somewhat unusual for me, so I started to gobble down the food Gordon had left out.
After a second, Gordon yelled over to me. “Babe, why don’t you bring that in here?”
It still gave me a little thrill to hear him call me that, and it took me a second to respond. “You want me to eat in the living room?”
“Well, then you could be with Kerry.”
“Kerry, why don’t you come in here?” I called. “It’s not polite to eat in front of the TV. It’s messy, too.”
“But the little monkeys are on!”
I sighed. Either way, I was teaching her it was okay to have a full conversation by yelling from room to room. “Come in here at the commercial,” I said.
Even before the commercial came on, Gordon appeared at the door. “Maybe I should just get the updates from you,” I said with a sigh. “Apparently the little monkeys are more interesting than her father.”
“Don’t take it personally,” he said. “That show takes precedence over anything and everything.”
“I thought her big thing was Astro Girl,” I said. “Or maybe she’s grown out of it.”
He gave me a sympathetic look, one that made me want to hold him all night. I longed to touch him all the time, but I only got to act on it when we were in public. Still, the habit had become so familiar to me that it was a real struggle to keep from leaning over to stroke his arm. Even if Kerry had been there, I might’ve gotten away with it. As it stood, I had no excuse.
At last Kerry came in, and immediately recounted every detail of the TV show she’d just watched. The retelling took almost as long as the original. I nodded and smiled, glancing at Gordon every so often. His eyes, like mine, were filled with amusement. I loved how much affection he had for my daughter. Even though she was only a client to him, she’d clearly staked out a place in his heart. I only wished I could say the same.
Still, it was nice to have her as a buffer between us. When she was around, the sexual tension dissipated to some extent. I found myself enjoying the dynamic between the three of us. It was so pleasant, so familiar. If every night could be this way, I’d never get tired of it. But I didn’t usually get home at this hour… and Gordon wasn’t always going to be my husband.
“Are you going to come to my school play, Daddy?” Kerry asked.
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” I scooped her into my lap. “What play is it?”
“Magic Glamor.”
“Sounds amazing,” I said. “I’d love to go.”
“You’re not going to be working?” she asked suspiciously. “I know Gordon will go, but you’re always working.”
“I’ll make sure I go,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss it. What role are you going to play?”
“I’m the elf witch! She’s the main character.”
Gordon coughed softly. �
��That’s not what you told me.”
“Fine,” Kerry huffed. “She’s one of the main characters.” Gordon waited, and Kerry clarified. “In the second act. She’s only in the first one a little bit.”
“Why would you say she was the main character?” I asked. “That’s not very honest.”
“But it doesn’t matter.” Kerry wiggled off my lap, cramming herself into the corner of the couch. “You said you’d make sure to come anyway.”
“Exactly,” I said. “There was no reason to lie. I was going to come even if you were playing a tree.”
“Nobody plays a tree, Daddy!” She went serious again. “So if I had a good reason to lie, I could lie?”
“No, that’s not what I said.” In reality I kind of wanted to say yes—but I couldn’t teach my nine-year-old daughter that. “You shouldn’t lie.”
“Even if you were only going to come if I had a big part, I couldn’t lie?”
“Nope,” I said. “It’s never okay to lie.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What if I was going to get in trouble for telling the truth?”
“You still couldn’t lie,” I said. “You should never lie.”
“Never ever?”
“Never ever,” I said. “We don’t lie to people, okay?”
“Honesty is always the best policy,” Gordon added.
Maybe it was a little ironic that the two of us were preaching about how terrible it was to lie. Maybe we were wrong for teaching Kerry such a black-and-white view of the matter.
But right now she was only nine, and she wouldn’t understand anything else.
Eleven—Gordon
I nearly had a heart attack when Cole brought up the emails again. He said it so calmly, as if it was nothing. Of course, it probably was nothing for him—whereas me, I’d been thinking of nothing else since we’d started writing them.
All the things I could say about what I wanted to do to him. All the paragraphs I could write about the connection between us. Yeah, these emails were going to take zero creativity whatsoever.
