by Cara Dee
I couldn’t blame our friends for falling back into old patterns, acting like Kelly had been here all along, because it was surprisingly easy. I could be back to panicking tomorrow, but right now, in this moment, having Kelly next to me felt like old times.
The only difference was this sense of not knowing jack shit about what his being back meant for everyone.
"Your kid told Matt something's been going on with you for years," Kelly said quietly.
Oh. "What else?" I told myself not to overreact. If that was all, there was no issue.
"That’s it."
Fucking relief. Kelly would learn sooner or later I struggled with depression. Might as well hear it from me. "It's nothing. I get depressed sometimes. Comes and goes. I'm fine."
"You're fine," he stated. "Right, yeah. So fine you claim to be hanging on by a thread."
Oh, of course that would come back to bite me in the ass. "I was exaggerating."
"Nah…not buying it. The Will I knew didn’t exaggerate."
"The Will you knew is dead."
Fuck.
Chapter 6
Kelly Oakley
The silence stretched after Will said that, and I could practically taste how badly he wanted to take it back. I stared at him, bugged I couldn’t see more than the outlines of his features, and waited for him to speak again. I sure as fuck wouldn’t change the topic or sweep anything under the rug.
He groaned quietly and covered his face with his hands. "This is what I hate about you being here, Kelly. I say things I shouldn’t."
"You mean the truth?"
"Yes, goddammit," he snapped. "Too much is at stake for me to lose it. I can't do it."
"Can't do what?" I asked, frustrated. "What's at stake? I don’t get it. I don’t get a fucking thing."
The buzz I'd had earlier was leaving me, as was my happy mood, but this was more important. Will was talking, although it was like pulling teeth.
"Never mind." He was closing himself up, and I had to do something before I lost the opportunity.
"Kelly, would you help me in the kitchen, please?"
"Sure thing." I followed Mrs. C out of the dining room, bringing a stack of plates from dinner. Ma would be home from work soon, so I should get going.
Mrs. C smiled politely and filled the sink with water. "You know I appreciate how nice you are to William, I hope?" I was confused but nodded out of reflex. She continued. "Good. I'm glad. And it's just friendship, correct?"
I was struck by panic. Did she hear me last night? I spent the night often enough, especially when Ma was working doubles, but last night something new happened. The dream terrified me. My own sleep talk had woken me up, and in my drowsy state, I was sure someone was standing in the doorway.
"Of course." I forced myself to smirk. "What else would it be?"
"Well…" She was making me regret I'd asked. "Some boys get confused sometimes. It's a shame, truly. I can't have my son around that, but as long as there's nothing to worry about…"
I hesitated, suddenly nervous and guarded. I had no idea how this would go or how he would react; I only knew I had to try. He'd find out eventually, anyway.
"Fluoxetine," I said.
Will turned his head my way. "What?"
"Fluoxetine—Prozac," I repeated. "That's what my doc gave me when I was diagnosed with depression. Twenty milligrams a day for four years."
For a moment, all I heard was his breathing. He gulped, frozen, and let out another breath.
"What do you take?" I nudged him.
He cleared his throat. "Antidepressants? Same. Forty milligrams. My bathroom is a drug store for anything else."
"There's more?"
A humorless laugh escaped him. "I have meds for everything. Insomnia, panic, anxiety, migraines, you name it." He paused. "Why were you depressed?"
Because I'm gay.
I opened my mouth to say it, to come clean, and I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t fucking leave me. I feared hell would break loose if I admitted it.
"It's a shame, truly. I can't have my son around that, but as long as there's nothing to worry about…"
"I… Because—" Motherfucker. Say it. Say it! "Because I fucked up." I deflated as soon as that weak answer slipped past my lips. It was true but far from enough. "Shit," I whispered, steeling myself. Tensing up. "Because I'm gay, Will."
Will tensed up, too. And he didn’t say anything, which sent me into a ridiculous whirlwind of doubt and feeling the need to explain myself.
"You terrified me the day you kissed me." I stood up and ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends. For some reason, the porch light remained dark. "That entire summer, I thought there was something wrong with me. I kept having these fucked-up feelings, and I didn’t understand any of it. I had weird dreams. I hated being away from you for even five minutes. It pissed me off to no end."
In retrospect, I knew it was a crush. Back then, I was scared because the feelings were wrong—so fucking wrong—and I didn’t want my friend's parents to say I couldn’t see him anymore.
It gutted me.
"You…" Will coughed and turned away. "I can't believe it. Please say it's a cruel joke."
"It's not." I ended up pacing before the steps, trying to smooth things over and probably doing the opposite. "I was murderous. So goddamn angry with you I can't explain it—after you kissed me. I went home and trashed my room." The memory of coming to a stop hit me. I remembered standing in the middle of my room, realizing it wasn’t Will I was furious with. It was me. "It was all misplaced, Will. It scared me shitless, and I knew you were hurt. That I hurt you."
I flinched, recalling the look in his eyes as I'd staggered back in horror. I'd called him the vilest shit for kissing me. Then I'd been too ashamed to face him. Too ashamed to say I'd dreamed about that exact scenario.
"I left for a lot of reasons," I admitted. "Fear, shame, regret, embarrassment, anger… You name it. But I didn’t leave because you kissed me."
From the other side of the house, the music was cranked up, and I heard Adam daring Jameson to call their brother who wasn’t here.
Hell.
This wasn’t how I'd envisioned I would tell Will. Tonight was supposed to be the beginning of easing into a new friendship. Casual was good before serious business.
Will let out a low, vacant chuckle and hung his head. "I don’t know what to say. I can't… I hated myself, Kelly. I fucking broke. Friends and family asked where you'd gone, and I couldn’t tell them. I was disgusted with myself. You called me disgusting."
My chest constricted painfully, and I squatted down in front of Will on the steps. "I can't apologize enough. I'm so goddamn sorry for hurting you."
He shook his head and lifted his gaze. There was an empty smile on his face, and the moonlight revealed unshed tears in his eyes.
I was the biggest piece of shit. If I hadn't been a coward back then…
I'd caused a lot more pain that I thought, and it sickened me.
"It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?" He sniffled and cleared his throat. "What's done is done."
My face fell, and I looked down. Mind spinning, I went through possibilities, outcomes, and options. I wanted to help fix what I'd broken, but I couldn’t be a complete douchebag. I couldn’t force him.
I hadn't been merely arrogant when I'd all but coerced him into giving me his number. I'd been selfish to the extreme. I had no clue what I was coming back to.
"I want—" I stopped myself, unsure of how to phrase my words. "I can't stress this enough, Will. I wanna be here. But if you don’t want me to, if there's no hope, or if I've ruined too much, say the word and I'll leave."
My heart began pounding, and my eyes stung. I hoped with every fiber of my being there was a chance, and I was ready to fight. He just had to give me the word.
"Christ, I'm a fucking dick," I whispered at the ground. My cheeks felt wet, so I quickly brushed a hand over my face.
"No argument from me," he replied tir
edly. "Blaming you for everything wouldn’t be right, though. Or true. The first few years… I was almost at my lowest while I did my undergrad. I contemplated everything from suicide to tracking you down and beating you bloody."
It was a good thing I was already close to the ground. I sat down on my ass as my stomach churned with nausea.
"I got better eventually," he murmured. "We were kids. I couldn’t base my life on one event. I never felt quite as confident again, but I managed to reason with myself. The rest… That's on me. I'm not hating my existence today because of you, Kelly."
That didn’t mean anything to me. His well-being did.
"I don’t care why you're depressed." I lifted myself up to sit next to him again. "I wanna see you happy. Whatever it takes."
He turned his head a fraction, and I thought I could see a sad smile. My eyes had gotten used to the dark.
"This is your home. You should stay," he said quietly. "As for me, I'm a mess. I don’t remember the last time I was happy, and if I were you, I wouldn’t bother."
"Good thing you're not me, then."
He huffed a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I'm so damn tired. I'm tired of feeling like a fraud, tired of hiding."
I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he'd ever feel like a fraud, or what he was hiding. Or was it 'cause he hadn't told his missus about me? Seemed like a nonissue. In the grand scheme of things, based on how his life turned out, there was no reason for him to mention me—from his wife's point of view.
"Who can you talk to?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean, who can you be completely open with?" It went without saying I wanted to be that person if he didn’t have anyone else. "You told me your wife doesn't know who I am, so I assume she doesn’t know our past, either."
"You assume correctly," he muttered.
"Which hurts just a bit," I had to admit. "What about your shrink?"
He let out a snort of wry amusement. It fell flat. "No. That’s through work, and doctor-patient confidentiality or not, I won't tell her anything that she'd encourage me to tell Lissa."
"And me?" I asked.
"And you, what?"
"You could talk to me." Hell, even if he had a room full of people he could turn to, I wanted to be that guy. "I may not know exactly what's got you down, but I can still relate."
"How? You said it yourself, you don’t know what I'm going through."
Depression was a shitload more than the original issue, that was how. "I know what it's like to be one breath away from giving up. I know how depression lies to you and makes you question things that are obvious to others. I remember feeling so weak I couldn’t leave the bed. I know there are times when you look at those you love and just wish they'd go away. And then you'll be hit by this crushing wave of guilt that drags you deeper." I peered down the driveway as Will looked away from me. "It's a vicious fucking cycle—wanting to get better, thinking you don’t deserve it, beating yourself up, pretending you're strong when you wanna crawl into a hole and die."
Will swallowed audibly, and I caught his nod, just a dip of his chin.
"I'll never judge or think less of you, Will. I've been there." Though, I knew without an ounce of doubt he was worse off than I'd ever been. "If you wanna talk, escape for a while and just sleep, let me drag you out for a run, or whatever you can think of, you know where I live, and you have my number. Day or night."
He exhaled shakily and rubbed his bearded jaw. "Goddamn you, Kelly," he whispered. "Damn you."
"What, did I say all the right things?" I smirked faintly, wanting to take the joke further—if only I could. I was too worried to joke.
He ignored my remark and faced me, our knees bumping together. "Be honest with me. Why go through the hassle?"
Because it's you.
"I know you've got this," I murmured. "I know what kind of man you are. Sometimes we just need a little help."
"It wouldn’t be little."
Did that mean he was considering it? A guy could hope.
"We can figure this shit out, buddy." Rather than hugging him, which I'd wanted to do for a week now, I gave his leg a quick squeeze. "There's no harm in trying. Besides, I've already seen you cry. Heaps of times when we were kids."
"Asshole." He huffed, and I could tell he needed the break from all the heavy. "If I remember correctly, you were the one bawling like a baby when your mother dropped you off at camp."
"I was nine!"
He shrugged and flashed the barest hint of a smile. It was enough for me.
His expression turned rueful. "I have no faith in myself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you regret this."
I wouldn’t regret shit. I was done with regrets.
"What convinced you?" I wondered.
"The escape part. And sleep." He was honest. "Getting away is what occupies my mind half the time. Pretending is brutally exhausting."
I knew that. And it was a good start. Whenever he chose to show up, he could be as lazy and silent as he wanted. I wouldn’t bother him, but I would nudge him in the right direction somehow. I'd get him to open up and let me share the weight he carried around. Hopefully, I'd get him to eat, too.
"I think I can tell my wife this," he said pensively. "Lissa's been more supportive than I can say. She'd understand."
I ignored the stab of envy. The details, too. I left that to him.
"God, how long have we been out here?" Will pulled out his phone to check the time.
"Don't worry. I told the guys I wanted to talk to you."
He frowned and pocketed his phone again. "Lovely."
Typically him. Worrying about what others would think.
He rose from the steps and rubbed the back of his neck. The lamp by the door flashed to life, and he flinched and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fair warning—"
"Two in one day? I'm flattered." I stood up, too.
That earned me a look, one I'd been on the receiving end of countless times in the past. I did my best to stifle my grin.
"Chances are I'll change my mind about this tomorrow," he told me. "This is happening so fast, and I'm my own worst enemy. Once I've processed everything, I don’t know where I'll stand."
I nodded, knowing that was a possibility. I'd given him a lot to think about, and I remembered the mood swings I had when I was at my worst. I was patient, though, and I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
"The offer stands," I replied. "Come on." I clapped him on the back and opened the door. "You're not the only one who will be wrung out tomorrow, so let's grab a beer before reality catches up to us."
Once my relief of having him agree to let me be there for him had worn off, I knew I'd beat myself up for the state I'd left him in.
Chapter 7
William Calvert
To escape the bedroom, and my wife checking in on me too often, I took a shower that lasted long enough for my legs to get weak. I slid along the wall and ended up sitting on the floor, the hot water sluicing down my body.
Knees close to my chest, elbows resting on the bony tops, I tugged fruitlessly at my soaked hair and prayed my brain would shut the hell up. Processing last night was turning out to be as physically painful as it was emotionally draining.
"Because I'm gay, Will."
I screwed my eyes shut. A lobotomy at this point would've been a relief.
Lissa knocked on the bathroom door, and I couldn’t help but snap at her.
"For the love of God, I'm still alive. Leave me alone."
Tilting my head up, I kept my eyes closed and breathed deeply.
"You haven't eaten anything all day," she responded.
I groaned, banging the back of my head against the tile. "Can you give me some fucking breathing room? Christ!"
She didn’t say another word.
I exhaled heavily and wiped the water from my face, though with the spray directly above me, there was no use. My skin crawled, and the air was stifling. Steam had long since fogged up the
glass. I needed to turn off the water and get out.
"Because I'm gay, Will."
"Fuck," I sobbed into my hands.
Of all the things he confessed last night, that was the absolute worst. For years, I had been hiding, full of shame, and stumbling around like a coward while trying to find a path I'd at least be content with. In the meantime, Kelly had discovered he was gay, and he was open about it.
I wasn’t gay. I remembered desiring my wife. I remembered what it was like to love her fiercely. Being in love with her… I think. I think, I think, I think. Doubt seeped in, and I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t go down that road. I'd been in love with her when she'd walked down the aisle toward me.
I wasn’t gay.
But…
I'd be a liar—I was a liar, more correctly. For every time I acted as if I were straight, I lied.
My biggest regret wasn’t kissing Kelly. It was hiding who I was in the first place—acting like my past was nasty when I knew very well it wasn’t. That was what had ultimately ruined me.
A liar, a coward, a weak son of a bitch.
What if I had told Lissa, upon meeting her, that the last person I'd been in love with was a man? People did it on a daily basis, and I was married to an open-minded woman. She wouldn’t have rejected me for that.
I hauled myself off the floor, sluggish and tired, and shut off the water.
Rivulets disappeared down the drain, creating a pattern between the tiles and making a gurgling sound.
Hiding something I'd been ashamed to admit for twenty-four years, though… Then the small lie wasn’t so small anymore. In the back of my mind, I had all the times Lissa had asked—pleaded and begged—what was wrong running on a loop. Why I was feeling so bad. She'd cried, run herself ragged, taken the kids when I couldn’t, all while believing my depression had no cause that went beyond stress.
The lies had piled up until I didn’t know who I was anymore.
All the pretending, the faking, all the excuses…
Opening the door, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my narrow hips. I passed the foggy mirror and left the bathroom, relieved to find our bedroom empty.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, drops of water trickling down my chest. The crisp air gave me goose bumps, and I shivered.
