Coffee at Nine

Coffee at Nine Chapter 9

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As autumn begins to wind down Cooper's year, his story intensifies. For those who are enjoying this work, I hope Coffee at 9 continues to be a rewarding read. I've enjoyed hearing from many of you. Communication with an author means something, so know you are appreciated.

October

Mitch had stopped in my office to ask if I could join him for a movie that evening. It was a Tuesday night; I was free. He was all excited about this new film: Bros.

"This is like a big thing," he said. "All the gay characters are played by gay people instead of straight people. All the main characters! And it's being done by a major studio. This is a big deal for our community!"

"Okay."

—

We walked out of the theater at 9:40.

"So? What did you think?" he egged on.

"Um. I'm not sure."

"Really? I heard you laugh a few times."

"Yeah. Yeah." I thought on it. My opinion hadn't gelled, and I wasn't sure why. "Parts were funny, and there was a sweet story in there, but ..." I hesitated. "... didn't you think the main guy was sort of a jerk?"

"Billy Eichner? Well, I guess that is the personality he is known for. He co-wrote it, so he probably wrote to what he knows."

"Yeah."

I was quiet on the car ride home. Once in Mitch's house, I sat on the couch. I didn't turn the television on. I just stared into the blank middle space.

He sat beside me. "Hey. You okay?"

"I don't know. That movie ... I don't know."

"Cooper, it was just a movie. It was just fun."

"A lot of people laughed, yes."

"Right."

"The theater was mostly gay men."

"Sure. They were happy that our people were seen. We typically aren't seen like that in film."

"We were seen?"

"Yes. There was so much representation. We were visible."

"I wasn't visible," I mumbled.

"Huh?"

"I wasn't visible!"

"Wha-? Cooper..."

"I wasn't visible. I wasn't represented."

"What are you talking about?"

"Wasn't the point of this whole groundbreaking film that typical straight people can see who we are?"

`Um..." Mitchell didn't know what to say.

"I would have been mortified if my family had been with us."

"Oh?"

"The characters in that film were ... everything they stereotype gays ... me ... as. One night stands, shirtless bars, reckless sex, drugs, snarky, sassy. Is that who we are?"

"Cooper, you're letting this get to you. That movie was New York. Jackson Bend isn't New York."

"Is that who I'm supposed to be? I'm ... I'm not that. I believe in love. Billy didn't. He said gay people don't love like straight people do. Do you think that's right? Is our love different?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little."

"How? Your father loves your mother. Is your love not equal to that?"

"Of course it is. I love you with all my heart."

"I thought so too. Then ... then this moooovie makes me think I'm supposed to think different."

"No. Honey. It was just a movie. That's all. They fell in love, didn't they?"

"He sang `Love Isn't Love.' I didn't understand. I ... I don't fit in."

"Hey. Hey." Mitch gently grabbed my wrists. "C'mon. Let's go to the bedroom."

He led me by the arm. The two of us began to disrobe without saying anything. I brushed my teeth. He came in behind me and did the same. No conversation.

Mitch slipped into the sheets in his boxers and a T-shirt. Only the bedside lamp was on. Following a film filled with hot, shirtless guys, one would think sex would be an automatic. I was still in my funk. I sat at the edge of the bed.

"Coop?"

I didn't answer.

"Cooper. What's wrong??"

"I don't belong."

"What?"

"Look at the audience tonight. Look at the film! It was like every version of a gay person was in it — all the letters were in it — except me. I don't fit."

"Fit what?"

"In this world!" I snapped. "There were guys in shirtless clubs and in `thruples' and snorting drugs and ..."

"Cooper..."

"... and taking steroids and on sex apps ..."

"Cooper."

"... and sleeping with strangers and being mean to each other..."

"Cooper! Look at me."

"... and asking your boyfriend if you can sleep with someone else..."

Mitch went quiet. I turned to him. He went pale.

"Is ... is this about me?"

"No! It's about me. Stupid me. Oddball me."

I felt like my face morphed into that of a mourner. I felt alone. I felt adrift like I hadn't in months. "I'm not any of those people. Is that what gay people are supposed to be? I don't belong. I don't know where I belong in the world," I sniffed. I was on the verge of tears.

"I do." Mitch looked at me directly. "You belong with me. We belong together." He kissed me on the lips.

He turned out the light. "Come into my arms."

I rolled into his embrace. He kissed the back of my neck. "I love you. You belong."

As nice as it was to hear him say that, I didn't feel better. He held me tight.

In the darkness he softly said a minute later, "If it really bothers you, I have a friend you could go talk to. You know, professionally."

I didn't respond. I just cocooned in his arms, lost in my stupid, crappy world I created for myself. I could tell he drifted off within a few minutes. It was the first night we slept together and didn't have sex since the breakup. Despite his loving words, my mind spiraled. I didn't fit this stupid mold I was shown. Even in Mitch's arms I felt alone. Mitch was my link to the gay world. Without him I felt like a lost child. I felt like a failure for some reason.

It took me an hour to fall asleep.

—

Brad asked Corey if he could top off his coffee. My son nodded.

"Here you go, munchkin," Brad said pleasantly while warming up Corey's mug.

"I'm not a munchkin," Corey said defensively but still politely.

"Sorry, tiger," Brad returned.

"My name is Corey," my son said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The rest of us chuckled.

"Yes sir!" Brad called back to Corey. Then winked. The two liked each other.

Corey had accented his coffee with an Irish Cream flavor. It was now diluted some, but Corey was fine with that. Mine was black. Emory's had sugar in it.

A text came in. Laramie was unable to join us but asked if he and I could do dinner that evening. I replied that was fine, but I wasn't dropping Corey off at Natalie's until 7. He was okay with a late start.

Corey stepped away to go to the men's room.

"Guess what? My birthday is Thursday. I'm telling Mitchell that I am 100 percent committed to our relationship again. I am exclusive again."

"So, you've been able to forgive him then?" Emory asked.

"Forgive? I guess. Forget? No. But I just have to allow him to be human. I still can't forget walking in on them, but ... I really do love Mitchell."

"Then that's all that matters. You can make it work."

"I hope."

"You've been there before. Does this make you nervous?"

"A little. I just know we will never be perfect. But that's a stupid thing to expect, isn't it?"

"Perfection and faithfulness are two different things. If you trust Mitchell, you're good."

Did I? Mitchell had been spot-on ideal since we started seeing each other again. But would I always have a question in the back of my mind? "Wow," I thought. How many married couples have gone through this self-doubt.

"So, I guess that rules out another romp in the bed between the two of us," Emory said sarcastically.

That snapped me out of my hypnotic thoughts, and I gave him a "WTF!?" look. He laughed at my expression.

"I was just kidding. I knew that was a one-time thing — and a special gift to me."

"It did help me grow. In a way. I guess," I muttered, even though my body language was still draped in regret.

"Does Corey know you are making this commitment to Mitch?" he asked.

"No. I haven't mentioned it. Once Mitchell and I have our discussion — and it's all good — then I will fill Corey in. Now I just have to decide about living arrangements. Mitchell has his lease through December. If we really are going to be a family, then I should plan on him living in the new house after that. But ... dang it, I'm being a bit selfish. I want the house to be MY house for at least a couple months."

"That's fair. It is your money after all. He could go month-to-month for a little while."

I saw Corey exit the bathroom. He bumped into Brad. The two of them talked a moment, then hugged. I didn't know what the conversation was about, but those two seemed to be fast friends. Corey was very comfortable among the gay environment of Joe — nonthreatening as it is. He rejoined us and took another sip of coffee.

"I feel like I should get you something for your birthday," Emory said.

"You could splurge on a cinnamon roll."

"I'm serious, Cooper."

"You're sweet, but that's not necessary. My job is going well and as long as I have Corey and a new house, life is good."

"And you have Mitchell, too," Corey said.

"Right."

Being a family again would be nice. I could tell Corey enjoyed seeing Mitchell and me happy again. What child doesn't want to see his or her parents happy? As Corey was an only child, he was more in tune with the adult world.

"So what birthday plans do you have for your dad, Corey?" Emory asked.

"Umm. I'm at Mom's, so I won't see Dad for a couple weeks."

"Actually, your mother invited me over for lunch next week," I said.

"Cool," Corey replied.

"And I believe her new boyfriend is going to be there."

"Oooo," Emory commented. "Big step."

"He's nice," Corey said. "I haven't spent a lot of time with him, but he seems like a nice enough guy."

"I'm happy for your mother," I said.

—

I pulled up to Laramie's house at 7:40. He was out front pulling some things into the garage in the last moments of fading dusk. I was wondering how he could even see what he was doing. He happened to be wearing a baseball cap again, which I curiously thought made him more attractive.

"Hey there. Right on time," he said as I got out of the car.

We briefly hugged. I could smell the sweat on him. He must have been working most of the day. He turned his cap around backward and gave me kiss on the cheek. It baffled me why I thought that looked so hot on a guy. But it did. Laramie was hot. Hot and sweaty and masculine. It was unexpected that my mind went there, but I wasn't blind. Or dead.

"Come on in," he welcomed. "I'm sorry. I wanted to get so much done today. I was hoping to be done around 6 and be ready to go. Is it okay if I hop in the shower real quick?"

"Sure."

He disappeared into his bedroom. The door was ajar, and I could hear the water starting faintly in the bathroom.

I looked around the living room. It wasn't my first time there, but I had spent very little time in Laramie's house. It was a small three-bedroom house. I poked my head into one of the bedrooms. It was quite small but perfect for an office, which is what he made it into. The other one looked more of a guest room. A full bed took up a lot of space in its restricted dimensions, but the room was nice. Some boxes storing unknown items were stacked along one wall. As I returned to the living room, I continued to scan the furnishings. The couch looked a couple decades old. Not necessarily tattered, but "lived in."

The artwork on the wall was an eclectic hodgepodge. There was a traditional painting — a landscape — that didn't seem to necessarily go with anything. It looked like something you'd buy at a hobby/home décor store. There were a few family pictures (I assumed). Considering the relationship he had with his parents, I was almost surprised he displayed them. In a total contrast, there was a wall-hanging made of wood. As artistic pieces go, it was very modern and the finish on it was beautiful. There was a wood carving of a boy with a cow. It intrigued me, but I knew he did have farming roots.

The kitchen counter was littered with a few wrappers, dirty dishes and silverware. A couple of bowls had water in them in the sink. It was far from messy, but it had the look of someone who lived alone and had the freedom to not have to be neat for anyone else. The dining set was extraordinary. The table and chairs were beautifully crafted. Rich cherry wood was stained beautifully. Navy blue cushions added the right elegance.

As we would be leaving shortly, I felt it a good idea to pee first. The bathroom was in nice shape. As Laramie had his own off the master bedroom, he probably rarely used this one. It seemed clean. Decorations were simple and had a farm motif, which I assume reminded him of the home where he grew up. Again, slightly odd that he would still embrace that. Considering...

After washing my hands, the toilet was making its last gurgling sounds of refilling. As I opened the door, Laramie called out, "I'll be ready in a minute." Turning toward his voice, I saw his body move past the doorway completely naked. As he paused, I momentarily could see his ass. Very cute. I wished I had been able to see his front.

How DID I make it all those years and not think I was gay??!!

A moment later, Laramie came out into the living room with me. He had slipped on a Kansas City Chiefs T-shirt and briefs. He had a pair of shorts in his hand. I tried not to look at the bulge in his underwear that stuck out below the shirt.

"Are burgers okay?" he asked. "I feel like a shorts-and-T-shirt night."

"Fine with me. We can take my car."

He finished dressing in front of me and returned to the bedroom only for his shoes and wallet.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of Jakes. I was surprised to see so many college kids there, but it really wasn't far from campus, so it shouldn't have been that unusual. At Jake's one orders at the counter and listens for a number to be called.

Laramie politely asked if it was okay if he ordered a beer. That was sweet, but I thought we had made it past that point.

"Thanks. After today I was just craving one."

We scarfed down our food as if we had been on a deserted island for days. It wasn't like I hadn't had lunch, but the smell of a juicy, bacon cheeseburger was intoxicating. Between swallows, he told me a little of what he had accomplished during the day.

"Oh, I'm finished in your house, but the crew still has a few weeks to go. There's still a lot to be done. Then the flooring, of course."

"I was told I would be able to move in by the end of the month," I quickly said. "I went month-to-month on my apartment lease after six months. I really want to be out by the end of this month."

"You should be," he said. "I don't think there are any problems. Not that I'm on the main crew, but I haven't heard anyone say anything."

I grabbed a pair of fries and dragged them through a puddle of ketchup. The remaining pile reminded me of the wall hanging in his living room for just a moment.

"You have an interesting piece of art in your living room," I said. "It's made of wood."

"Oh. Yeah. I made that a couple years ago. An old boyfriend saw something like it at a hotel we were staying at. He encouraged me to make something like it. I knew I could. I really poured myself into the sanding and finishing."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks. The whole living room is a little odd, but ..."

It seemed like there was more to the sentence. Laramie didn't finish.

"...but?"

"Eh. I live alone. It's not like it has to look good for anyone."

"Laramie Jenkins! You should do things for yourself as well."

"That was more the kitchen table."

"Your work as well?"

"Yep."

"It's really nice. REALLY nice."

"Thanks. Again."

Both of us finished our food. I got up to refill my Dr. Pepper. He went to the counter to get another beer.

In a momentary lull in conversation we sheepishly looked at each other, neither knowing what topic to start.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me to tell you another secret about myself," I said with a smile.

"Oh. I think we've probably covered all that. Heaven knows you are probably tired of hearing of all my shit." He looked at me. "I'm sorry. You don't cuss, do you? I shouldn't just naturally do that around people."

"As long as Corey isn't with me. I am older than you, y'know. I'm an adult. I actually turn 39 Thursday."

"Oh, nice! I would offer you dinner, but I am sure you are spending it with Mitchell. Had I known, I would have paid the tab tonight."

"You don't have to do anything at all. I'm not a huge birthday person."

"I'll pay next time."

"Whatever. Fine. Sure. You're sweet."

I saw the smallest smile curl at his lips when I said that. I wondered how often he heard compliments. Surely people complimented him on his woodwork.

"Well, I guess my news is that I am going to fully commit to Mitchell on my birthday. Exclusive and all. We'll work toward being a family again."

"That's good," he said with words, even if his expression didn't.

"That was unenthusiastic. Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

"No! No, of course not. I know you love Mitchell. It's good that you worked through all the ... stuff."

I could tell his feelings didn't honestly match his words, but it seemed pointless to argue. I knew it wasn't a mistake. I loved Mitchell. He deserved more from me than I had given him these past two months.

I tried to turn the conversation to something more fun.

"So. No more secrets to share."

He didn't answer. Laramie's mood seemed to have changed, but I couldn't figure where we went off track.

"Nah. Just one. But we won't go there. I can't ... I don't want to say anything."

"Oh. Okay. No problem. I was just being silly. No big deal."

Trying to bring things up a notch, he asked about Corey and how he was doing in school this year. Our spirits became lighter. Things seemed good.

"I really would love to treat you to a birthday dinner if I could this week," he said as we got up from the table. "One night you and Mitchell don't have plans."

As I pulled into his driveway, I got out of the car to give him a hug before leaving. Oddly, he walked toward the front door and said, "I enjoyed it" and waved. There was no intention of a kiss on the cheek or a hug or anything. We had become good friends, so that just struck me as out of character for him.

"Hey!' I said. He turned. "Hug?"

He gave me a smile and walked into my open arms. I held him a moment, and I felt him squeeze me tightly.

"Hope your birthday is wonderful," he said, letting go.

—

Mitchell and I had enjoyed lunch together on Monday, but he had a meeting Tuesday, and I did on Wednesday. My Wednesday night AA friends offered early birthday wishes the night before. I got off the elevator on Mitch's floor. The receptionist was talking to a friend who had her back to me. They were giggling.

"That FedEx guy is sooo hot. What a hunk."

"I know. Steamy. But ... I think he's gay."

"Helloooo, ladies," I said, making them aware of my presence.

"Oh, hi, Cooper. Mitchell says it's your birthday. Happy birthday," said the receptionist.

Their expressions conveyed that they were worried that they somehow might have offended me by their "gay" comments. I politely smiled and said, "Thank you."

The whole building knew I was gay. I wouldn't have been offended by that. Not now. Three years ago, who knows what I might have felt. I'm sure any gay comments would have made me go for a bottle. Of something.

"Hello, baby!" Mitchell beamed as I walked into the room. "Let's talk about where you would like to go tonight."

"I'm pretty open. I'm sort of craving seafood. I haven't had that in a while. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely."

"Not too pricey?"

"I hardly think so. Long John Silver's isn't that bad."

I laughed out loud, and he joined me.

We began spreading out our lunches on his desk. I pulled up a chair.

"You have napkins in your cabinet, right?"

"Yeah. And grab me a fork too."

I opened the cabinet door and began reaching for the items we needed. I heard a knock on the frame of the doorway to Mitchell's office.

"Hey there, handsome. We haven't talked in a while. How have you been?"

I was confused.

"Oh. Derek. Hello. I'm fine. I've ... uh, been good."

I closed the cabinet door. I could see who was standing there.

It was him. Him!

The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I slid the documents into my attaché. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There was construction work going on in the street below, but a sound I heard seemed like it was from the apartment. We hadn't left the TV on, had we?

As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was moaning. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?

The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches.

Mitchell was panting. He was on his back in our bed. His eyes were closed. His dick was pushed up inside the ass of some stranger. The man was handsome. His hair was a sandy red. The pubic hair that I saw on the bobbing crotch matched his chest and head. His bush was hairy and masculine. A huge cock jutted from the mass of hair. It was almost erect. It was certainly long. The dick bounced and waved as he leaned back on his stiff arms. The man's head was tilted back, and he moaned as Mitchell continued to fuck him.

I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500.

No. NO! It can't be. Not him. Not on my birthday. Seriously? He was a FedEx guy??

As I closed the cabinet, the gentleman became aware of my presence in the room. It momentarily startled him.

"Oh! Hi. I didn't realize you had company Mitch. Hi, I'm Derek," he said glancing at me for a second.

Of course you were. Derek. It just sounded like the name of a guy who has a big dick.

The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I slid the documents into my attaché. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There was construction work going on in the street below, but a sound I heard seemed like it was from the apartment. My head turned to identify what it could be or where it was coming from. It was the bedroom. We hadn't left the TV on, had we?

As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was moaning. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?

The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches.

Mitchell was panting. His eyes were closed. He was his quiet self, but his breathing was heavy. I knew from that sound that he had been fucking for a few minutes and was getting close. He was on his back in our bed. His dick was pushed up inside the ass of Derek. Derek was handsome. Derek's hair was a sandy red. The pubic hair that I saw on the bobbing crotch matched his chest and head. His bush was hairy and masculine. A huge cock jutted from the mass of hair. It was almost erect. It was certainly long. Derek's dick bounced and waved as he leaned back on his stiff arms. Derek's head was tilted back, and he moaned as Mitchell continued to fuck him.

I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500.

"Fuck!" I yelled out.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Derek said to Mitchell. "Hey, give me a holler some time if you want."

With that, he ducked out of the doorway and made his way back to the elevator.

Mitchell froze. His eyes glazed over staring at me like deer in headlights.

"Cooper! I ..."

"Really!!? The FedEx guy?!"

I could tell my face was red. It became flushed as I sputtered out any words to say. It was like a thousand needles pricked the surface of my skin everywhere on my body. Like facing an accused killer of a family member, my body shut down and was filled with rage at the same time.

"Fuck!" I said.

The door to the apartment closed softly. Thank heavens the meeting hadn't been this morning. There were the papers on the dining table. I slid the documents into my attaché. I couldn't believe I had forgotten them. There was construction work going on in the street below, but an unusual sound I heard seemed like it was from our apartment. My head turned to identify what it could be or where it was coming from. It was the bedroom. We hadn't left the TV on, had we? I was sure I had turned it off before leaving, so what was that?

As I walked down the hall, the sounds clarified. It was moaning. Sexual moaning. The rhythm of the moans were those of someone being fucked. What on earth? Was Mitch home? Was he watching porn?

The doorway was partly open. I moved it a few more inches. Two figures came into my view.

Mitchell was panting. His eyes were closed. He was his quiet self, but his breathing was heavy. I typically found this sexy as it was Mitch's audible response to our lovemaking. I knew from that sound that he had been fucking for a few minutes and was getting close. He was on his back in our bed. An intruder was positioned above him. Mitch's dick was pushed up inside the ass of Derek. Derek was a handsome FedEx carrier. Derek's hair was a sandy red. The pubic hair that I saw on the bobbing crotch matched his chest and head. The hair on his chest was full on his pecs. It centered into a treasure trail over his navel down to his crotch. His bush was hairy and masculine. The curly hair seemed soft, not wiry. A huge cock jutted from the mass of pubic hair. The cut cock was almost erect but still had a bit of buoyancy. It was certainly long, a thick seven inches — maybe more. Derek's dick bounced and waved as he leaned back on his stiff arms. Derek's head was tilted back, and he moaned as Mitchell continued to fuck him. My partner's hips keep thrusting his erection into Derek's ass. Derek's legs were muscular and had fine, brownish-red hair on them as well. The FedEx carrier was an incredible specimen of sandy-haired manhood.

I watched for maybe six seconds. It seemed like 500. My mind memorized it all. Photocopied. Xeroxed. Digitally scanned. Flash bulb.

"Fuck!" I yelled out.

My neck felt tense. My face felt hot and red and smoldering. My brain was a pinball machine caroming a steel ball from bumper to bumper trying to process what had happened.

I turned and headed down the hall.

"Fuck!" Mitchell cried out. "Cooper, wait."

Wait. Wait?? Yeah, sure. Why? What possible explanation for you screwing a Derek from FedEx — in our own bed! — could possibly exist? Nothing could explain that away.

As I started the car, lyrics joyfully sang "There's no place like home for the holidays." I starting sobbing. I knew I had to get through this meeting. I had to get those contracts to Mr. Shannon. Then what? When the meeting was done ... THEN WHAT!?

My life had fallen apart.

In one brief moment, my life had fallen apart. Again. I couldn't process it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't swallow. I started moving toward the door. Mitch ran to meet me. Before I was out the door, he grabbed my arm.

"Cooper! Cooper Cooper Cooper..." I slipped from his grasp. "No. Please. Please!! Come back. Let's talk. Cooper. NO!"

I was at the elevator. The receptionist's friend had gone, but I'm sure I looked a sight. My skin alone should have set off the smoke detectors.

The elevator took nine years to get to the ground floor. When I reached my car, I knew it was on the side facing Mitchell's office. He was most likely watching me drive away.

I still couldn't breathe. I still couldn't process. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't go to cry. I wasn't go to cry.

Now what?

—

Ophelia answered her phone.

"Hey, birthday boy. Happy happy!"

I looked at the mail on the dining room table. "Your card arrived today. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I'm surprised by the call."

"I need to talk."

O immediately recognized the tone.

"I'm listening."

I recounted the last 25 minutes.

"I have no words, honey. Really. I don't know what to say. You aren't tempted to drink, are you? Tell me if you are."

"I ... I ... I don't think so. I have a picture of Corey in front of me. That usually keeps me in check. But ..." I started sobbing. "I don't know what to do. That's what's scaring me."

"Let's do a meeting."

"We just did one last night."

"Trust me. There's a 5 o'clock. Do you think you are okay until then. I'll go with you. Tell me you'll be okay."

"I'll meet you there."

"All right. Just breathe. This is just one day. This is one moment. Nothing here is forever. You've got lots of friends to call if you need. I'll see you in a few hours."

After we hung up, I stared at the ceiling. I was stretched out on the couch with Corey's framed picture on my chest; my body felt lifeless. I squeezed my eyes shut. It took ten minutes, but I finally stopped crying. I grabbed some tissues to blow my nose. I laid them next to those that had blotted my tears.

I sat up and started having a conversation with myself.

"Okay, Cooper. Ask yourself, why are you upset? Mitchell didn't do anything wrong."

"Today he didn't," I answered to my own question.

"So why am I upset?"

"It all just came back."

"Nothing has changed. Mitch has been faithful this whole year."

"The last few months at least."

"And you had sex with Emory."

"God! Why is my life so upside down? Where am I without Mitch? He is my rock, my lighthouse, the dock."

"Why?"

"Because I love him!!"

"Does he love you?"

"Yeah. Yes! Yes, he does."

"So are you blaming him for something today?"

"No. Just seeing ... seeing DEREK just makes me feel unworthy."

My two-way conversation with my brain ceased.

—

I couldn't imagine it was possible but following my internal dialogue, I somehow feel asleep. It took an hour lying there, but I guess I was emotionally exhausted. A ker-plunk of a text coming in awakened me.

It was Mitchell. It was his fourth text. I started with the top message and read back.

"I need to know you are okay. Please, PLEASE call me."

"Please call me. Please! I love you. With all my heart I love you."

"Forget him! Just know I LOVE YOU. That's all that matters."

"Please know nothing is going on with him. I haven't seen him in months."

The AA meeting was in 30 minutes. I ran a brush through my hair and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Ophelia gave me a bear hug when she saw me. We didn't say anything. We just held each other for two minutes.

After the meeting started, I hadn't really planned to share. Fifteen minutes in, I did. This meeting was smaller than our usual ones and the chairs were arranged in a circle. I raised my hand.

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"I'm lost. I only know ... two of you ... here. Most of you don't know me. I'm gay. I was married for 14 years before I admitted that. I have a great son. I'm on pretty good terms with my ex-wife. The man who made me admit who I truly was ... um, we fell in love. We still are. I think. I ... I don't know. I'm feeling lost today.

"He cheated on me last December. We've kind of worked through it. I was prepared to recommit to him tonight. It's my birthday, and he was taking me out to dinner. And then at work today, I saw the man he cheated on me with, and ... it all fell apart for me."

Facial expressions in the group were sympathetic.

"I just don't know what to do. Mitchell didn't bring anything on today. If I am going to forgive him, then I need to forgive him. But just SEEING this ... Derek ..." I said in a maliciously sarcastic voice, "It just all came back. I feel broken and unworthy. And alone. And ... and ... scared. I know I shouldn't be. I have a lot going for me at the moment, but ... I feel like nothing. Happy birthday, huh?

"I was encouraged to come here this evening. Maybe just saying it out loud helps. I feel support each time I am in a group. So ... thanks."

The group clapped.

Following the meeting, I hugged Ophelia one last time.

"Thanks, O. Thanks for being there for me."

"Sweetie, you have lots of people you can lean on. Don't ever forget. This is just today. Tomorrow will be better and the day after that will be even better. Love you, Sugar."

"Love you too," I said letting go of her hands.

Halfway home, Lance called.

"Happy birthday," he shouted as the call picked up on the car's blue tooth.

"Hi. Thanks. Got your card. I appreciate you guys remembering. Is Jakob with you?"

Lance sighed. "No."

"Uh oh. Anything wrong?"

"No. Nothing like that. We're good. He's just getting more and more involved with the city here in Von. We just don't share time — or at least as much — like we used to. Of course, I'm very proud of him. He's amazing. I sometimes just ... miss him. You know?"

"I understand."

"How about you? Are you and Mitchell on your way to dinner?"

"Uh. No. I'm leaving an AA meeting."

"Really? On your birthday?"

I replayed the last six hours for him. Lance had many traits — most of them good. He was an empathetic listener. He said nothing for ten minutes and just let me talk.

"Do you need to come here? Should we come there to see you tonight? Jakob should be home soon."

"I'm ... I'm ... probably okay. I don't know ... I'm confident I won't feel tempted to drink."

"Good."

"But, Lance, I just don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. I'm confused. I'm lost. I just feel ... alone. It's not fair to Mitchell. I just ... just don't know what to say to him."

"Just take it one day at a time. You and Mitchell will eventually talk. You'll know what to do. He loves you."

"He does."

"We're here if you need us."

"Thank you. That means a lot. Love you guys."

"We love you too."

Staring into the fridge, I reached for a Dr. Pepper. I had a nap, so if any caffeine kept me up, who cared. Not that caffeine and I ever had a problem.

I stared at my phone. I decided to text Mitchell.

"Hi. I need space. I'm not good. But I don't blame you for anything today. I know you love me. I love you too. But I feel like I am sorting through a lot. I'm weird. Just give me space. Hopefully, next week we can talk."

He texted back:

"Oh thank God. I was worried sick. I'm sure that was awful. I hate that it happened. He means nothing. All that matters is that I love you and you love me."

"I'll be in at work tomorrow. Just let me have space. I think I'll need it to get my head on straight."

"OK. This is a ridiculous thing to say after today, but Happy Birthday."

I put my phone down. Well. That was done.

My stomach growled. I realized that I had just walked away from my lunch on Mitch's desk. I wondered what he did with it. Could he eat his own after I walked out? My day sucked. I couldn't imagine his being much better. I'm sure he was a wreck. Fuck Derek for even coming into his office.

There was no way I was preparing food. I supposed I could have something delivered. That sounded dreadfully lonely.

Three minutes later: "This is a surprise. Happy birthday, Coop," Laramie answered my call.

"Hi. Thanks."

"What's up? Are you out with Mitchell?"

"Actually, no."

"What? What happened?"

"I could just use some company. I don't really feel like eating alone."

"What's wrong? Are you okay?!"

"Yeah. I guess. Sort of. Not really."

"What can I do? Can I take you out? Want me to bring something there? Want to eat at my place?"

"That was a selection of options. Quite honestly, I am not sure. Being among happy diners doesn't seem really right. I originally thought of seafood, but ... would you be willing to pick up something and come here?"

"Sure. I wanted to treat you anyway."

"Mama Ricci's has a shrimp alfredo that I love."

"I know where that's at. Can I pick it up?"

"You remember where I live, right?"

"Yeah, I was there with the wood samples for your shelves."

"Right. I'm home. If you're willing. I hate to ask..."

"Don't be silly. I'll leave now."

Thirty-five minutes later, the apartment was fragrant with garlic bread and Italian sausage lasagna.

"I'm so glad I could do this. Happy birthday, Coop," Laramie said as he cut the first corner off his lasagna.

"That smells spicy."

"They had two types of lasagna. This was noted as being spicier."

"Smells good."

"Sometimes I tempt fate with my stomach, but ... eh. I love spicy stuff."

"This is full of calories. But who cares, it is my birthday."

We both drank bottled teas that I had in my fridge.

"Speaking of calories, you need a birthday cake or something."

"I think not," I replied. "I will feel stuffed after eating this."

He chuckled.

"If we absolutely must indulge..." I continued, "I have ice cream in the freezer for Corey's visits."

Laramie winked at me.

We didn't say a lot during our meal. I felt better for just having company. The eruption to my afternoon seemed calmer. I couldn't say I felt better, but I was calmer. Laramie hadn't asked about the plans with Mitchell. Something told me he was afraid to bring it up.

I cleared our plates after we both had finished. I was stuffed. The dishwasher wasn't full enough to run. The quietness seemed too blaring. I put on some music. Springsteen didn't seem too festive nor too depressing. I felt it was neutral.

Laramie had moved to the couch. I added ice to my glass of tea. I joined him. Considering how awkward the evening was, I felt I owed him an explanation.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked about ..."

"I'm ... uh ... curious, but didn't want to ..."

"We're friends. You should be able to ask me anything."

"You know all my garbage, that's for sure."

"Mitch and I were making dinner plans for tonight in his office at lunch. We have been seeing each other for months. You recall that we had ... been working on repairing our relationship."

"Right. The split was because he ..."

"He cheated. That's the word you are avoiding saying," I said. "The guy he cheated with — he walked into his office today. It was a FedEx guy!"

"No way!"

"I fell apart. I was a wreck. I just left work."

"Coop. I'm so sorry. I ... I don't know what to say."

"It took me a few hours to process. Ophelia took me to a meeting. Lance called. All said, I know Mitch didn't plan on this ass to stop by. It wasn't his fault. I couldn't really blame him. I just ... needed some space."

"How do you feel now?"

"Better? Maybe. But ... I went through these really crummy weeks — months actually — after the breakup last winter. I felt alone. Adrift. I had no idea how to be gay in the gay world."

"What does that even mean?"

"Mitch taught me everything I knew about being gay. And without him, I felt like I was a big nothing."

"You? Oh please. You're totally fine. You're a great friend, that's for sure."

"Thanks. I wrestled with feelings of ... of just starting over. I felt so unworthy. I couldn't picture anyone wanting an inexperienced novice like me."

"Maybe that's why I love you," he softly said, looking down. Laramie's eyes got wide, and his face jolted to look at mine. "I mean..."

We stared at each other and didn't say anything. Seconds stretched.

"Laramie..." I started.

"Don't. Don't think." He stared at the floor. "I ... I ... could make up something fast here. I could lie. I could say I meant `I love you as a friend.' But ..." His eyes met mine again. "I'm in love with you, Cooper."

"What? I thought we were just friends."

"We are!! And that's all. Don't change anything. You're ... you're the best friend I've had in years. For sure in Jackson Bend. You ... you listen and you allow me to bare my soul and you don't judge and ... I love everything about you."

"Laramie ..."

"Wait. I don't expect anything. If you must know, that was the last secret I was keeping from you. But I need you as a friend, and I know you love Mitch. Please don't let this mess anything up. Please! Oh God! I've messed up our friendship."

"No. No, you haven't. I ... I'm just surprised. I guess ... I should be flattered."

"And that's just it. You don't know how amazing you are. You're a humble man with an enormous heart. I've never met anyone quite like you. I didn't plan to, but I fell for you. Weeks ago probably."

"Wow. I had no idea."

"Good. And don't let anything change. We're friends. You and Mitch are in love, and you and me are just friends. I can handle that."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure. If something ever happened between you and Mitch, then ... yeah, maybe ... I'd take my shot. If you ever need me ... if you ever want me ... I'm here."

Laramie was speaking so openly. He could do so from his heart so easily. I think I would have so many reservations to do that. It was one of his strongest qualities. How strange that he followed in the same steps Emory did with me months ago. This was all awkward, but internally, I smiled that I was somehow lovable.

"Well, ... thanks. If you ever did spend quality time with me, you'd quickly find out I am far from amazing. I'm ..."

Laramie lunged toward me and planted his lips on mine. He didn't pull away. We kissed. I was there accepting it. I participated in it. I loved it. We pulled apart. Our gaze locked. I saw the flecks of green in his brown eyes. I leaned in for a second kiss. This one was longer. Then he jerked away.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You're in a weird place. I can't ... I can't make things more complicated for you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You and Mitch are supposed to be together. I can't make things complicated."

But now they were. In that moment — in that single, passionate moment in the middle of a weird-ass-day moment — I felt something for Laramie. It was wrong. I did love Mitchell. I did. But I wanted to kiss Laramie again. But he was right. I was in a strange place. Vulnerable. This would only make things worse.

"Ice cream?" I offered.

He smiled. "After an Italian lasagna-garlic alfredo kiss, that's probably in order."

We both chuckled as we went to the kitchen. He watched as I dipped cookies and cream from a full carton.

We sat down at the kitchen table.

"Wait!" Laramie said and went over to the stove.

He turned on the gas, and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a slightly bent birthday candle and lit it in the flame. Then he turned off the stove and planted the candle in one of my scoops of ice cream.

"Where did you get that?"

"I happened to have a few left in a box in my kitchen drawer. I stuck one in my pocket just in case a situation might arise."

I leaned over and kissed him again. Then he sang "Happy Birthday" in a beautiful voice that surprised me. We smiled at each other.

Laramie sang along with Bruce for a moment. His voice really was wonderful.

As I loaded those dishes into the dishwasher, Laramie chuckled, "Well, you can't say this birthday was uneventful."

"That's for sure. My brain is sure to be a tornado tomorrow."

"Hey, Coop. Don't let me mess with it. We're friends. We had a moment here, but I need you as a friend. Don't let me screw that up."

My phone rang. It was Corey.

"Hey, son!"

"Happy birthday, Dad!"

Laramie winked at me. He moved over to kiss me softly on the cheek, whispered "Call me" in my ear, and then waved goodbye. I stood and we held each other in a hug. It was tender but not long. He pulled away but grabbed and squeezed my hand. We held it a moment while I listened to Corey and then he let go and waved as he moved to the door.

"How was your day?" Corey asked.

"A little crazy. How was yours?"

"Awesome. My classes at school rock. You should have seen what we did in Biology today."

I smiled as he told me things about his life. His calming voice was the presence of normalcy I needed. At times, my eyes just welled up listening to him be him.

"Hey, Dad. We're doing lunch with you on Saturday. I hope it is okay if I give you your card then."

"Of course."

"Good. Dad, I just want you to know I think you are the best dad in the world. I love you."

A tear escaped from the pond of moisture in my eyelids and ran down my cheek.

"That's the best gift I got today. Thanks, son."

—

"Your lunch is in your fridge," a note said on my desk. Mitchell didn't write anything else. I figured I would just go eat out, but it appeared I had lunch waiting for me. At least that was nice of Mitch.

Work plodded along. I continued to release any resentment I had toward Mitchell yesterday. He was so caught off-guard. He was not to blame for the feelings I had yesterday. Nine months ago? Yeah. But not yesterday. Seeing Derek just made it so real. But today I just focused on work.

A text came in from Natalie: "Lunch tomorrow at our place at 12 okay?"

"Absolutely"

I was going to meet Natalie's new beau. Was I ready for that? I had told myself I was looking forward to it. I was. But what would he think of me? Was I a jerk from her past? An embarrassment? I wasn't sure about that part.

Midafternoon I looked out the window. I saw Mitchell's car on my side of the building. I wondered what the first thing I would say to him would be. I was still somewhat of a mess. He didn't deserve the pain he was going through; I knew he was going through it. It was different from me, but it was still real for him.

Despite yesterday being a disaster, I got caught up and made great progress. Next week's meetings had great potential. If I kept my mind on straight, it could be a very good week.

I grabbed a raspberry tea from my fridge ten minutes until 5. The weekend neared. I had no plans for tonight. I had saved a few boxes. Perhaps it was time to begin boxing up a few things before the move. I imagine there were some items I could live without for a few weeks.

I stood at the window. I watched for Mitchell to walk to his car. At 5:03 I saw him. He unlocked his car. He paused and looked up at my window. I guessed he could see me looking through the glass. He waved. I weakly waved back. We were so great four days ago; now it was just weird.

Emory and Laramie thought I was some sort of catch. If they only knew. I was a mess.

—

Clearly, I would need many, many more boxes. The ones I had filled quickly. I marked each one with the specific contents. I vowed to go into this move very organized. Even with those boxes filled, I felt we had more than enough to work with in our final weeks at the apartment.

By 11, I was dead tired. As I flipped and flopped in bed, I thought I was too tired to sleep. Rolling on my back, I reached down into my boxers. I fondled my dick but playing with it didn't get it hard. I was just so tired. Usually thinking about Mitchell's anatomy would get me erect. Tonight my thoughts drifted to Laramie. That brief glimpse of him walking by naked at his apartment was arousing. Even though I only saw it for just a moment, I thought he had a cute butt. I wondered what his dick was like. But did it make a difference? I wasn't hung. It didn't really matter to me if he was or not. But imagination started painting the picture of Laramie's body. His arms were rather nice, probably owing to his work situation. I remember sexy chest hair in the occasional moments I had seen his chest. It wasn't necessarily that thick but very visible.

My dick was beginning to stiffen. I thought more about Laramie. If he loved me, he had to imagine me naked too. Were we doing it at the same time? Was he holding his cock picturing me lying naked next to him? Was he fondling his erection thinking about making love to me? What would be his preference — sucking me or fucking me? What would I want to do our first night together?

First night? What was I thinking? I loved Mitch.

This was only fantasy. Masturbation material. I loved Mitch, but tonight I would think about Laramie.

I was hard. I hadn't come all week. Stroking myself was the release I needed. It felt good to be hard. I deserved this private moment.

Thoughts of our passionate kiss last night flowed through my brain. Those kisses were nice. I liked them. A lot. Nice. Kisses. Hard. Strokes. Laramie. Hard. Naked. Chest hair. Hard. Cock. Stroking.

I started moaning. I hadn't masturbated in a few weeks. Mitchell and I had been having fairly regular sex. Good sex. Naked. Moaning. Hard. Mitchell. Fucking. Hard. Loud.

Thoughts of two men swam through my head. I pictured them both in bed with me. Their hands were on me. Hard. Cock. Hands. Stroking. Kissing. Sucking. Hard. Me. Laramie. Mitchell. Hard. Us.

My stroking felt incredible. I pictured us all stroking each other. Us. Hard. Sucking. Cocks. Hard. Us. Moaning. Groaning. Loud. Coming. Coming. Coming.

"Ungh!" I screamed. Cum shut from my dick onto my chest. The next stream hit my neck, and I screamed again. Each time. Each pulse. Hard. Cum. Moan. Scream. Laramie. Mitchell. Cum.

My body remained still, splattered with liquid. My chest heaved with deep breathing. It was a good orgasm. I lifted my body and threw my legs over the side of the bed. My intention was to walk to the kitchen for a paper towel. First, I ran my hand through the cum on my chest. I felt the moisture on my skin. I licked my tongue through it.

Laramie. Mitchell. Cum.

As I walked to the kitchen, my semi-hard penis wagged from side to side. I wiped down my chest, but it still felt slightly tacky.

—

"Happy two days after your birthday," Natalie said, greeting me at the door.

"Thanks, Nat," I said, giving her a hug.

"Dad! Happy birthday!" Corey said, as he gave me a huge hug as I entered the door.

"Thanks, bud. You just saw me last week. You'd think it had been a year."

"It's your birthday, that's all," he said squeezing harder.

We walked into the living room. There was a gentleman standing there.

"Cooper, I would like you to meet Daryl."

I extended my hand. "It's really nice to meet you, Daryl."

Daryl shook my hand. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually said, "Nice to meet you," as he let go of my hand. I couldn't say I blamed him for feeling slightly off. Meeting your girlfriend's ex-husband had to be weird.

The awkwardness was broken as each of us talked about what we both did in our careers. There was the slightest tension in Natalie's body language, but I felt it relax as I smiled and laughed. Corey seemed completely natural. He knew all the players in the room, so nothing seemed out of line for him.

"Corey, would you bring out the salad to the table," Natalie said. Looking at us, she said, "Lunch will be ready in about five minutes. Excuse me guys. Get to know each other."

As Nat left the room, Daryl and I looked at each other. "Wow. She's confident," Daryl said.

I chuckled. "Sure is. She's amazing though. I'm sure this is a bit odd, but I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"That's not something every ex-husband would say."

"Well, we're a unique case, as I am sure she has explained."

"She ... has. I think a lot of people would be quick to judge you, but I imagine you went through a lot. Internally."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Gay uncle. I can be pretty understanding."

"I see. Right. Well, I'm very sad it took me most of my life to figure things out and sadder that I caused her grief, but ... she deserves someone who can love her fully. Completely. It was tough for her at first, but ... Nat's amazing. She forgave me. She's been very understanding."

"It's nice to see exes be civil to each other."

"Indeed."

"How did you two meet again?"

"Church, believe it or not."

"Ah. Which makes your understanding even more appreciated. Thank you."

"Corey thinks you hung the moon, so I knew there had to be some good qualities there."

"I'm trying."

"Hey guys, tea, lemonade or water," Nat said, ducking her head out.

"Tea," the two of us said simultaneously.

A minute later, Corey was bringing glasses to the table, and we were called to sit down.

Lunch was lovely. Chicken marsala was a favorite dish of mine to order on my birthday. Natalie tried to make it on special occasions and had gotten pretty good at matching a restaurant. Corey shared some things he was loving about school; Natalie spoke of her work. I mentioned a new account I was working on. Daryl showed interest and related it to his business. Talk of my new house was brought up, and I shared my excitement with that. Lunch flew by. It was pleasant and fine.

Corey was grinning ear to ear in bringing out a cake with number candles — a three and a nine — and sat it in front of me. Natalie playfully dimmed the lights. They sang and then waited for me to blow out the candles. I did. The lights returned to their full glow.

"Here, Dad." Corey handed me a gift.

"What's this?" I said with exaggerated joy.

"Open it."

After tearing away the paper, the box indicated it was a picture frame. My son instructed me to open it and pull the frame from the inside. It was an 11 by 14 of the two of us standing in front of El Toro at Six Flags.

"I love it. I. Love. It. It's totally going on my dresser," I said, beaming at Corey. He smiled back.

"I got you a little something, too," Natalie said.

"Nat, you didn't need to do that." I was perplexed by her overt kindness. Lunch alone was thoughtful.

"It's simple."

I opened the wrapping and in it was a brown cardboard box with no markings. I ripped open the taped seal and pulled out a vase. It wasn't as simple as Natalie had implied. It was obviously handcrafted and the translucent blues in the glass were elegant and beautiful. Natalie knew they were my favorite colors.

"It's ... it's beautiful. Thanks hon', er ... thanks, Natalie." I looked at Daryl to apologize for that minor slip. He smiled and nodded.

"Jakob helped me pick it out. That's your friend, right? Jakob?"

"In Von? Did you go all the way to Von for this?"

"Daryl and I took a simple day trip there. They were having a festival, and I thought your friend might help me pick something."

"Oh, I love it even more." Hopefully, my expression conveyed my sincerity to my ex-wife. "Thank you."

"I knew I had all the vases here after you left, so I thought the new house might need one from time to time."

"Thoughtful."

"What did Mitchell get you, Dad?"

My heart stopped. I had no answer for my son. I couldn't scramble fast enough to deflect an answer. Our Thursday together fell apart so horribly, I hadn't given that a single thought.

"Excuse me while I duck into the bathroom, everyone."

After shutting the door, I breathed heavy, trying to regain my composure. My brain was a broken window. I couldn't open or close it. The shattered pieces of glass were ready to slice my hand open at the slightest touch. What could I tell Corey? I freaked out at ... at stupid Derek ... but Mitchell didn't do anything. Then I wound up kissing Laramie that night. How do you tell your son you are in love with one person but suddenly felt something for someone else? I looked at my reflection and wanted to write "basket case" on the glass.

I inhaled. I stood up straight. I felt I could go back. But I peed. After washing my hands, I then went back to the dining room.

"Hey, Dad. We have ice cream. Do you want ice cream? Mom, can I get the ice cream?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Natalie said, shooing him to the kitchen. Then she looked at me. Nat knew me. She knew something was up from my expression.

"Daryl, would you be so kind to take a picture of me with my gift? I'd like to text it to Jakob."

He agreed and we posed. Corey came out with a scoop and a half gallon of both chocolate and cookies and cream. In no time, the four of us had cake and ice cream in front of us. I opened my cards and thanked them.

Corey got a call on his phone. He asked if he could take it. We all nodded. Daryl collected the dishes and took them to the kitchen, saying he would put everything away.

Nat looked at me. "Something's up. What's wrong?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Something's up. What's wrong?"

"Nat. I ... I don't know. Do you really want to know?"

"It involves Mitchell, doesn't it? Did he do something?"

"No. He didn't."

"But?"

I gave the Cliff Notes version of Derek coming into the building. I specifically left out the kisses with Laramie. I admitted I didn't know what I was feeling.

"That had to be hard. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

I looked at her in the eyes. "You had to deal with a husband telling you he was gay; he was in denial for the majority of his life. It doesn't really compare."

"Maybe. Hard things are hard things. You and I have ... well, we're in a good place."

"Because you are amazing."

"Oh shut up. We're adults. We both love our son. I've moved on from the past and the shock. Part of me is always going to love you ..."

"... and I you."

We smiled. "It's just good that we can be honest," she said. "I want you to be happy."

"And I you. I think I'm just too screwed up to have a happy life."

"I pray for you often."

"That's nice of you. And selflessly thoughtful. You really are amazing."

"Stop."

"Daryl seems nice. Everything working out?"

"Yeah. I think we have something real going."

"And are we still in a Christian-ly relationship?"

"All right. We'll quit right there," she said, giving me a friendly scowl.

—

Emory knew something was off. I had said practically nothing. I just sipped my coffee. He stared into my eyes and said nothing in return.

Sighing, I said, "I know. I'm terrible company."

"What's up, Coop?"

As my body language crumbled in the chair, I suffered through the retelling of ... of the Derek moment. And my childish reaction to it.

"Why childish? You're a human being," Emory offered.

"I suppose. It just hit hard. And the timing was ... was ..."

"Fucked up," Emory said, finishing my sentence.

"Probably not my choice of words, but ... right."

"Have I heard you cuss?"

"Maybe. I only do it if I'm really angry — like in times like that!" I bluntly said. "And, occasionally ... I use the f-word during sex."

"You're adorable. You said that like a kid in seventh grade getting caught cussing."

"I don't feel adorable. I feel completely lost. My life was getting back together, and I thought I was there ... but noooo."

"Were you there, though? You never got past the ... `wall.' Derek was always a wall. Did you really forgive and forget?"

"Forgive, yeah ... I think. Forget ... not at all. It was still there. But I loved him. We loved each other. I felt it fully again."

"If that's the most important thing, then that itself hasn't changed, right?"

"Right," I said less than enthusiastically. "But there's more."

"Dear heavens. What else?"

The evening with Laramie was explained.

"I told you he had a thing for you!! I could tell."

"Which makes it all the more complicated."

"Not necessarily," Emory insisted. "I had my momentary crush on you. We're still friends. It hasn't been a problem."

"I don't want to lead someone on, though."

"So how was the kissing?"

"Magnificent, actually. I find myself drawn to Laramie. He's very different than Mitch. But ... but ... Aauughhh! It's all so complicated. I'm lost."

Emory grabbed my wrist. "Things will work out how they are supposed to work out. It doesn't have to be today."

—

I was hoping a run with Trent would help. I thought for sure it would reduce the tension. It would help me de-stress. Playing with Amadeus and having him run alongside us was uplifting. I wasn't even going to mention the whole situation to him. I wasn't going to bring it up.

"So, how was your birthday? Last Thursday, right?" Trent asked halfway through our jog.

Guh! I told the whole thing — again — and Trent brought us to a slow walk.

"Man. I'm sorry, Cooper. That's a lot to contend with."

"I know. It would help if I knew how I felt about something. But everything is all messed up. I'm just ... a hopeless case."

"Well, let's start with the basics. You love Mitch, right?"

"Right."

"Derek coming into the office wasn't planned, right?"

"Right."

"You don't have any actual feelings for Laramie, right?"

I didn't answer.

Trent stopped. "This is complicated."

"No. No, I don't have any feelings for him. Not like that. Not really. Not much."

I shoved my face into my hands and grit my teeth. How had I unraveled so badly? I didn't know anything!! I didn't have a constant to grab onto. I couldn't even look at Trent anymore. What a disaster I was. Just a week ago it was all rock solid. Or I thought it was. Now I didn't know what to do the next day. I had never felt so adrift since ... since last Christmas. My life was a wreck.

Trent put his arms around me. He held me. I began to sob in his embrace.

"I'm so lost, Trent. I don't know what to do. I don't even know how I feel about anything."

We saw a bench about a quarter mile ahead. We slowly walked to it and sat down. By that time, I had a modicum of composure. I petted Amadeus to calm me. I took a deep breath and looked at the sky. Trent put a hand on my shoulder. Amadeus nuzzled his nose into my leg.

"I guess ... I guess I should just concentrate on the house. And on Corey. Just let the dust settle."

"I empathize with you. Lance was in love with me in college. But I was in love with Mike."

"He was ...? Oh wait. I remember his first share a few years ago. Yeah. He talked about that."

"About being in love with me?"

"Yeah. With his best friend. Y'know, I probably knew that in the back of my mind, but I just picture him with Jakob now."

"Indeed. They are so great together. But there was a time our last couple months of college that the sexual tension between the two of us was super tempting. I tried to stay strong and be loyal to Mike. You'll have to do the same."

I contemplated Trent's words as we walked back. And over tea. And during a late-night bowl of ice cream. And as I lay in bed. I wanted to jack off, but I had no zeal for it. I didn't want to think about anybody.

—

As I entered work Monday morning, the receptionist on my floor caught my attention.

"Um. I was asked to put something on your desk. I ... got the key from Mr. Shannon. I hope that's okay."

"Uhhh ... I guess??" I was curious.

Turning the lights on, I saw a wrapped gift on my desk. I sat down, noticing a note taped to it.

"I didn't get to give you this Thursday. Mitchell" it read.

I shut the door. Next to the package was a flash drive. A post-it note read "Play this." I stuck it in my desktop. It was a slide show set to music. "I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz started playing. A slideshow of pictures of Mitchell and I faded and changed throughout the song. I had seen many of them. A few were ones he had taken that I guess I had not seen. Our vacation with Corey a year ago was in there. Our first dinner out. One he had taken of us shirtless in bed. One from Friendsgiving with Trent and Mike.

Although the pictures had my gaze, my brain was in tune with the lyrics:

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

Well, I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find

'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up

Tears were running down my cheeks. I played it three times. Had anyone been able to hear through the walls, I was certain they would be perplexed — or think I was a lunatic. I wasn't sure if I cried for ten minutes or until lunch. I had no track of time. My love for Mitchell took precedence. It was him and me. Work melted away. The walls melted away.

I played the song one more time with my eyes closed. I didn't care about the pictures. The words spoke to me but challenged me at the same time. Taunting me that he wouldn't give up, but at the same time they prompted me to wonder if he should.

I was so messed up. I was so screwed up. I was so FUCKED up.

I looked at the gift again. Ripping off the paper, I could tell it was a piece of jewelry of some kind. Opening the box, I saw it was the watch I had noticed when we were out getting Corey a birthday present weeks ago. Tucked inside was a handwritten note: The time spent with you is all that matters.

I knocked on his door. I was asked to come in. He smiled that it was me. He saw the watch on my wrist, and we looked at each other's face. He was looking for approval, forgiveness, understanding. I offered him the look of a lost child. We kissed. For a long time.

"Dinner tonight?" I asked. He nodded. "We should talk."

—

I felt my earlobe gently gripped in Mitchell's teeth. It turned me on. His hard seven inches prodded into my testicles as he thrust his hips. His mouth was all over my face — on my cheek, on my lips, on the bridge of my nose and on my ear. His breath panting into my ear, and then I heard him say "yeah" as his cock rubbed against mine.

I repeated it back.

"So ... birthday boy, what is your pleasure? Sucking? Fucking? You name it."

"Let's fuck."

"Who does who?"

"I want to fuck you."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"First let me suck you," I insisted.

I loved tasting Mitchell's cock. It was if it was the most expensive thing on the menu, cooked firm and succulent. I lightly moaned into his stretched flesh. He groaned and called out my name, which I appreciated. Precum leaked from the slit concealed in my mouth, and my tongue danced with the liquid before I swallowed.

"Yeahhhh," Mitch said in approval.

I pulled my mouth off his hard-on and moved up to kiss him passionately. Our tongues were in a swordfight as we engulfed our partner. We got louder. Our arms were wrapped around each other, holding, groping, feeling. My penis felt so hard, so erect. I rolled him to his side. He pulled a towel under him as I leaned to reach the lube. Fingering his hole with the clear slickness, he writhed in anticipation.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, Cooper."

Coated in lube, my dick was ready. My erection entered him. "Oooohhh," we both moaned. My body pressed to his back. My hips thrusted. We were now joined in a sliding, stiff connection. My dick gliding inside Mitchell. The friction was euphoric for both of us. I grunted right next to his face. He groaned back to me.

"Mitchell. Fuck yes."

"Coop, keep fucking me. Fuck me, man."

I did. We did. We fucked. We fucked hard. We moaned. We moaned loudly. We groaned. We groaned louder.

"Oh, Cooper. Don't stop. Don't stop. Fuck me. Cooooop. Oh, yeah!!"

My rod was super charged, pounding my lover's ass.

I moved my arms below him. I gripped him in a bear hug from behind as we continued to thrust and writhe and wrestle. My mouth now bit his ear, gently, panting into his ear canal at the same time.

Mitchell gasped in passion, mixed with whining and whimpering. My sexual ferocity was driving us wild, both of us. Together. Joined. As one. Melded. Connected with my cock.

"Mitch. Oh, man. My cock ... it ... it feels so good. It feels so good inside you. I'm getting close, baby. Mitchell. Fuck, this feels so good."

"Come in me, babe. Make your dick come inside me. I want it. Come in me."

"Ohhh yeah. I am. I am, Mitch. Oh. OH! OH FUCK YES!"

My erection felt like a firehose shooting liquid twelve feet. My groans could have been construed as painful, but nothing was further from the truth. My orgasm was heaven. Shot after shot of warm lust was pumped into my partner.

I collapsed on him. The sweat of our love sealed us momentarily.

"Stay inside me," he softly said below me.

I did.

Mitch began thrusting his own erection into the towel below him. We pushed our hips together. He frotted his cock into the cotton fabric. He pushed and thrust and squirmed. I hummed into his neck as I maintained the rhythm with him. It kept me hard long enough for him to climax.

Mitch was still loud as his cum began to smear between his skin, pubes and the towel below us. He kept pushing. I could tell it was a long orgasm. It was intense.

I rolled over on my side. We panted in unison. It was fantastic sex.

"Happy belated," he whispered.

Mitchell got up, pulled the towel from the bed and went into the bathroom to clean up. He returned a couple of minutes later with a warm, wet washcloth to clean my crotch. He threw it into the bathroom and then reached down for his underwear.

"Don't. Leave it," I said.

He smiled and crawled back into bed. We turned toward each other and gave a simple peck on the lips. I reached down to fondle his penis. Even after sex it was nice. Mine was unimpressive to say the least. I stretched out my arm and he moved his body to rest against mine. His hand reached down, and a finger traced the contour of my testicles. He played with them gently. Both of us stared up at the ceiling.

"We really haven't ... talked ... if you know what I mean," I started.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry that I ... didn't handle that well."

"I don't blame you. It had to bring back a lot of bad memories. I can't imagine the pain."

"Yeah, it did. At the same time, it isn't like you planned for him to stop in. I can't blame you for the whole incident."

I reached toward my balls and grabbed his hand. My fingers cupped around his, and I held his hand against my chest.

"I'm so sorry that happened, Cooper. I really am. I felt empty without you this weekend."

He pressed his body further into mine.

"Did you think about his dick?"

"What??"

"I had only seen it about ten seconds and seeing him brought the image of it all back. It was a pretty impressive penis."

"Penis shmenis. I love you. Only you."

"I know." I sighed. "But I can never give you a dick like that."

"It's only a dick. It means nothing."

"But you pursued it one time."

"Pursued. It wasn't like it was a hunt. It was ... a mistake. A complete mistake. It never should have happened. I'll regret it for my whole life."

He rolled into my neck. I moved my arm around him. Mitchell felt good against me. I loved him. I hoped he could love me forever. But would he go searching for something I'm not in the future?

Minutes later we were asleep.

—

"I have nothing at home for dinner. I was going to grab something fast after my AA meeting, but I thought you might want to go out to eat," I texted Laramie.

"Sure! Great," he replied.

Two hours later we were both sitting at a table at The Shed. Our server brought out two chicken-fried steaks.

"Ohhh, that looks like I am going to see a couple more pounds on the scale in the morning," I said, smiling at our dishes.

"Heaven," Laramie told our server LuAnn.

"Enjoy fellas," she said and left us to our meal.

Laramie reached for Tabasco and shook streaks of red hotness onto his gravy-topped meat.

"I'm certain your insides are going to revolt against you one day," I said, looking at my dining partner.

"Oh they do from time to time, but I love it when I can really taste my dish."

"Seriously? How can you taste anything? It's like you make your tastebuds burn with fire all the time."

He chuckled. I smiled back.

"I'm glad you texted. Part of me wondered if I would see you again," he said, stuffing his mouth full of gravy-covered, fried meat.

"Don't overthink it, Laramie. I'm trying not to let it be a big deal. It was flattering." I paused. "As long as you can be okay with us just being friends."

"You're a great friend. I will make it work. That's the most important thing to me."

I was trying not to talk about me as much tonight. Laramie surprised me about asking about my meeting this evening. Most people avoid the topic of me being an alcoholic. I would imagine they would feel it is some taboo topic that would make me feel uncomfortable. Even Mitch rarely asked. Trent doesn't either.

"No one really asks me about that. I think they probably feel I am embarrassed by it. Thanks," I said, following a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I think it shows strength that you're not."

"Maybe. When I first went, I probably would have been embarrassed. Those people really got me through some tough months. Ophelia, Lance, Jakob, Richard ... good people. I should go see Lance and Jakob again soon."

"I'll spare you the humiliation of taking me along."

"They liked you."

"Ha. Maybe at the beginning. Talk about embarrassing."

"Well, you'll see them again next month," I said.

"Oh??"

"At Friendsgiving."

"How's this now? I ... what??"

"Oh, I asked Trent if you could come to Friendsgiving. It's his big thing the Saturday before Thanksgiving where friends are thankful for each other. I want you to be there. It was all inspired by Tyler, one of our members in AA ..."

I stopped there. Tyler had killed himself. It affected us all deeply. I momentarily had forgotten Laramie's brother had done the same. I was scared to look at him. Had I sent him down a dark hole?

Laramie was smiling.

"I like that. If it celebrates our friendship, then I'll make sure I am completely free."

"Good," I said and left it at that.

"Wow. He's a radio personality, isn't he?"

"And a playwright."

"Look at me ... hobnobbing."

"Ha. Trent is nothing like that. He and Lance went to college together. For being so young, he put his talents to use right after graduation. I'm proud of him. He's my running buddy."

Laramie looked pleased.

—

I picked up Corey after school Friday.

"How was your day?"

"Fine."

For him, that was oddly short. Further questions didn't bring forth any deeper responses. He just stared out his side window. He and I had such a great relationship, but I knew the dreaded teenage years were sure to rear their ugly heads soon enough. What had gotten into him today?

"Craving anything for dinner? Pizza? Burgers? Chinese? Spaghetti?"

"I don't know. Anything's fine."

"Are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm fine."

That was obviously a lie, but I wasn't going to push. I made spaghetti at home. I didn't think I would get much conversation out of him in a restaurant. While I fixed dinner, he tapped away at his keyboard. At times I thought he was going to jam his fingers through his laptop.

Following dinner, he remained untalkative. He paid attention to videos on his phone.

I sat next to him. "Have I done something wrong?" I asked.

"no," he said, as small as he could.

"Want to go for a walk? It's nice out."

"That's okay. I'm good."

"Mind if I do? I could use a little exercise at least. I was in my office all day."

"That's fine."

"Well, okay. I'll be back in about 20 minutes."

While walking the neighborhood, I called Natalie. She had no idea what was up, nor had he displayed any moodiness at her home. We were both perplexed. Bad grades? A girl? A bully? Something embarrassing? We talked the entire time I walked. I let her know if I found out anything I would pass it on.

Upon return to the apartment, he had not moved. He seemed focused on his phone. I hoped tomorrow would be better. I worked on some papers at the dining room table in relatively close proximity in case his mood changed. It didn't. We said virtually nothing until I brought out his bedding.

"I'm going to turn in. Need anything?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Okay then. Good night. I love you, buddy."

"Yeah."

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I thought I was a pretty good parent. At the moment, I felt incredibly inadequate.

—

I woke up at 7 and quietly walked into the kitchen to start some coffee. I put it on a timer as to let Corey sleep another hour. Perhaps I could.

I got another 20 minutes in there somewhere, but eventually the aroma of brewed coffee awakened me. I poured myself a cup. I figured I needed to wake Corey up so that we could start our day — if he was willing. I made a full pot so as to offer him a cup too. I sat at the end of the couch.

"Hey. Morning, bud," I said, nudging his foot under a blanket.

He stirred under the covers.

"I made coffee. Would you like a cup?"

He scratched his head. "Mmmm." I couldn't discern if that was a yes or no.

Eventually he sat up. I interpreted his nod as a "yes." I went to pour it. I knew he liked a little cream. I had bought a flavored creamer like the ones at Joe. As everyone on the planet was in a dither over pumpkin spice, I had opted for that. After stirring the coffee concoction, I walked back to the couch. The cover slipped away from him. When it did so, I saw two bruises on his side.

"Hey! What's this? Corey, what happened??"

"Nothing."

"Did you get in a fight?"

"No. Yeah. Not really. I don't know."

"What happened?"

"Just stuff."

"Stuff!?? What kind of stuff?"

"Some classmates and I were sitting around at lunch. Just talking."

"Did a fight happen?"

"Not really. One guy was talking about his dad. His dad wouldn't give him money or something. A couple of my friends started talking about their dads. I just said, `My dad is great.' And ..."

Concerned as I was about the situation, those words were heartwarming.

"And what?"

Corey paused. "I don't know if I should say."

"You can tell me anything. Anything."

"The guys said, `Isn't your dad gay? You don't even have a real dad! It's like you have two moms.' Some kids laughed."

"Oh." Crap. My son had gotten into a fight over me. Hurt because of me. "So, did you fight?"

"Not really. We shouted. A couple of my friends stood up for me and shouted at him. He called you some really bad names — which isn't fair because he hasn't even met you. I guess I shoved him. He shoved me back and hit me in my side. I fell and he kicked me. That was the end of it."

"Did you report it?"

"Good lord, no. Honestly, Dad. I started it. I shoved him first."

"Hmm. Yeah, but he actually hit you."

"Whatever."

"What about your friends?"

"They were there. I had a few; they stood up for me. Other students kind of laughed at me I guess."

"Kids can be cruel."

"Mom would be disappointed in me for not `turning the other cheek.' I'm not sure I really understand that phrase. I'm sorry, Dad. Are you disappointed?"

I sat next to him. He leaned into me.

"No, I'm not disappointed. I'm sad that you had to put up with that. I'm sad I was the reason you were bullied. But you stood up for me. I love you for that, but I don't like seeing you get into altercations though." I looked at him in the eyes. "I know you didn't initiate that argument. That kid was being a jerk. Sometimes people are just mean. It would be nice if everyone were polite and kind, but I'm afraid the world isn't like that. There are great people and then there are mean people."

"Mean people suck."

"I'm sure they do. I think we could probably find a T-shirt that says that too."

We both chuckled.

"This coffee is good by the way."

"Glad you like it."

"Are you going to tell Mom?"

I was quiet a moment. I took a sip of coffee.

"Your mother is your parent too. She and I shouldn't keep things from each other when it comes to you. She loves you. She'll understand."

"I hope so."

"I'll downplay it. You might get a bible lesson or something though."

"Oh, I'm sure." Corey took another sip. "Dad, you don't go to church anymore, do you?"

It was my turn to drink some coffee. This was the first time this topic came up. After two years, it is shocking that none of the three of us has ever discussed this.

"No," I was embarrassed to say.

"Do you still believe in God?"

"I do. The world makes more sense with Him in it. I ... I ... just don't know how I fit in it with Him. I know there are gay-friendly churches. Perhaps I should investigate it more. I sure couldn't attend our old church. I doubt if I would be welcome."

"That's sad."

"It is." I didn't look at him. I sipped my coffee. "Do you miss going to church on the weekends you are with me?"

"Nah. I mean, I like my friends there ... but I get it." He looked straight ahead into the middle space. "I'm sure Mom wishes I did."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right. Hey, why don't you grab some cereal, and I will hop in the shower first."

"'k."

"Just think, in a couple of weeks, you will have your own bathroom."

"True." Corey finished his coffee. "Can we do coffee at 9 in the morning?"

I nodded. "Hey, thanks for standing up for me, son. I love you," I said, walking to the bedroom.

"Me too."

As the warm spray washed the layer of sleep-infused grunge from me, my thoughts turned to Corey's altercation. The reality of the situation started to penetrate my thought process. My son was hit and kicked because of me. Because I was gay. Dear God. Could this actually happen frequently? Would his thoughts of me eventually change? What if he became embittered because I was gay. Was I going to cause him pain in the years to come??

I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to not allow tears to come out, but I failed. They blended with the shower spray, falling down my cheeks and splattering to the tile.

With the feeling of being washed, I said a prayer to God to watch over my son.

—

Brad hugged Corey as we walked into Joe.

"It's good to see you, cha— Corey," he said, catching himself before calling him "champ."

Corey felt at home at Joe now. As we drove in, I pointed out some other places in the neighborhood. I told him I didn't frequent it down here too much, but I pointed out a burger place, Chinese restaurant and a nightclub or two. He asked if I ever went dancing. I laughed hard and informed him that his father was a terrible dancer, that even Mitchell had given up on me.

Emory was just at a table for two, but he quickly scrambled for a larger table upon seeing Corey.

"I should have known. You have developed an entourage."

I smiled. "Mitchell is going to join us too."

"He is?" Corey asked.

"Yep. After you said you wanted to come, I texted him and asked him to join us."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

Within minutes, Mitchell was there. He got a simple black coffee at the counter and joined us. Both he and Corey beamed at each other and gave a good, long hug. I stood to kiss Mitchell. I noticed Corey looked around to see if anyone noticed. He had seen Mitch and me kiss before but never in public. The fact that no one reacted at all caused him to have the slightest of smiles. The maturity level of my son continued to impress me. I hoped I just had a little to do with it.

Emory moved so I could sit side by side with Mitchell.

"Dad says you think he is a terrible dancer," Corey told Mitch.

Mitchell laughed. Hard. For a long time. It was almost infectious to everyone at the table. Brad was behind the counter and had to turn his head to see what we were up to.

"So. How did this all come up?"

"I pointed out Club Indigo on the way in."

"I see." He turned to Corey. "I think your father is a terrible dance because he is a terrible dancer. However, I couldn't care less. I'd go dancing with him in a heartbeat."

"Mm," Emory grunted, staring out the window at Indigo catty-corner down the street.

We turned to him. He became aware of our stare.

"Oh. Sorry. I just thought of Gene and I going dancing." Emory turned to Corey. "Gene was my ... partner. We were together about 20 years. He died of a heart attack a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," Corey politely said.

"Gene and I didn't dance a lot, but we never let age stop us." The whole table listened intently. "Sometimes country, sometimes techno. The older we got, the less frequent we went out. I mean, who in their right mind wants to stay up until 1 a.m.?" He chuckled. "But we still went every two or three months. It was fun." Emory looked at his coffee. "I do miss him."

Brad had walked up and heard enough to offer a sympathetic look.

"Hey, by the way, I was running with Trent the other day. He's getting started on this year's Friendsgiving."

"Thanksgiving already??" Brad scolded. "Ugh. Much too soon to be thinking about November."

"It's next month," I reminded him.

"I know, but it is already chilly enough for me."

"Anyway, he's beginning preparations. I should probably let him know how many people I will be bringing. Emory, you're coming right?"

"To a radio personality's house? Of course!"

"Mitchell. And I've asked Laramie too. Brad, I'd like you to come if you would be interested."

Brad's face turned to me in surprise. "Me?"

"Of course. It's a day to celebrate friendship. I'd like you to be there. It's the Saturday before Thanksgiving."

"Uh." Brad looked at a loss for words.

"Only if you want. It's just an offer. Free food and drink. But no worries if it doesn't feel like your thing."

"No. I ... I ... let me check. The Saturday before Thanksgiving?"

I nodded. I hadn't seen Brad speechless before. Ever. He walked back to the counter and turned back to look at me.

Laramie joined us. We had a square table for four, so Corey moved between Mitch and me on the corner. We let Corey have some conversation time so that it wasn't all dominated by adult talk. My circle of men surrounded me. Despite how the beginning of the month had gone off course, I felt better now. I wondered how Laramie felt, me being there next to Mitchell. Hopefully, his feelings would fall into place as Emory's did. I liked my friendships with these gentlemen. They were important to me. Less drama in my life would be a good thing. I had feelings of my own to deal with.

Brad came to warm our coffees for the third time.

"Do you have any pumpkin spice creamer?" Corey asked.

Brad looked at me. "Dear God! Have your corrupted this child?" I merely shrugged.

The table had a good laugh. I'm not sure Corey understood the joke.

Brad put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in slightly to me. "I ... I think I would like to come next month. Thank you."

I smiled and nodded.

—

"Cooper! Oh God, I'm close. Oh fuck, yeah!"

I furthered my commitment to servicing Mitchell's stiff cock. My tongue playfully dabbled with the underside of his erection as my lips made a slobbery seal around the shaft.

"Aaahh! I'm gonna ... aaaahhh!"

I liked loud Mitch. The warmth of his cum dripping into my mouth pleasured a different sense. His fingers snarled into a grip in my hair was still another of my senses being stimulated. Factor in my view of his crotch and the smell of his musk and it is no wonder I was close to coming as well. I yanked on my cock and within seconds, I leaned up and sprayed my partner's torso with heated semen.

"OOOOoouuunh," I groaned after I fired my last stream.

"Wow. I didn't even have to do anything," Mitchell said.

"I know, I was so into it. You leaked a lot of pre-cum tonight," I said bluntly.

"I don't know why that is."

"I don't have a problem with it, obviously."

I reached into the nightstand for a hand towel and started wiping the results of our lovemaking off his chest.

"You know, this could be the last time we have sex in this apartment." Mitch gave a look of surprise. "I close on the new house next week."

"Huh! Well, we have a week, don't we?" He winked. "We could do it every night next week."

We did. Fortunately for me, great sex came with someone who was willing to help me pack things up.

Monday night we got the kitchen packed up except for some bare essentials for me to make it a few days. He fucked me.

Tuesday night, the storage closet, hall closet and study were boxed. We 69ed. He came in my mouth. I came all over his face.

Wednesday night after the AA meeting, we ordered Chinese takeout. I fucked him. Then we boxed up the half bath.

Thursday required getting more boxes. Once we did, everything in the living room was boxed or packed to move. With no television and nothing on the walls, it looked very bare. Books were gone off the shelf. He wanted to be fucked again. I was happy to oblige.

Friday night was the bedroom. Natalie was willing to let me pick up Corey in the morning. When the entire bedroom was nothing but sheets on a bed, Mitchell and I kissed for probably 20 minutes. We groped each other, we felt each other, we fondled each other. His precum landed on my stomach. I wiped my hand through it and gripped his dick. Soon we were panting and groaning. It was a volume we had never reached in this mutual masturbation. I jerked his cock vigorously while our mouths were sealed. Our tongues danced over one another. His grasp on my erection was fierce. I moaned into Mitchell's mouth. He pulled harder. I groaned into Mitchell's mouth. He pulled my erection farther. I screamed into Mitchell's mouth. Cum was on me, cum was on him, cum was on the sheets.

Our mouths separated. He straddled my stomach, but I had not let go of his cock. I pulled and jerked. He ran his balls through my cum. I yanked and jacked his hard-on.

"Cooper. Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah. YEAH! I'm there!!! Yank me hard!!"

Cum dripped from his shaft, landing in the splatter left from me. I looked at the two variations of liquid, easily telling each of our contributions apart. Then Mitchell lowered and ran his genitals through it all.

"Nice finale," I said, enjoying the mess that our bodies were.

"Yep. Next time, new house."

"But we will have to wait until Corey is back home with Natalie. We should make it a performance."

Mitch laughed. "I wish you had taught me to be loud months ago."

—

Mitch and I picked up Corey at Natalie's place at 9 o'clock Saturday morning.

"So? When do I get to see it?" she asked.

"Maybe you can drop off Corey next time, and we can all have dinner."

"I'd like that."

"And you can bring Daryl if you want."

"We'll see."

After we got to the new house, Mike and Trent pulled up a minute later.

"Good timing. The movers are loading up at the apartment, and Corey's furniture is supposed to be delivered in about 20 minutes."

Laramie came at noon with pizza for everyone.

By 4 o'clock, everything was there, but we were temporarily living in a sea of boxes. Some were stacked like totems.

At least furniture in the two bedrooms were in place. The living room was set up enough to watch television. Mitchell had it set up and ready to go. I decided to hold off on cable. Corey and I would have a discussion on it.

We all had dinner, my treat, at Jake's. It reminded Trent of his college days. Laramie and Mike had a beer. After a hard day of moving and unpacking, they felt they deserved it. Trent had a Diet Coke. He refused to drink around me, but I told him I didn't mind.

After dinner, Mitchell headed home, and Corey and I entered the house perplexed where to even begin.

"Was it like this when you and Mom bought our house?"

"I guess. We didn't have a lot. It sort of grew over time. You weren't born, so we didn't have any baby stuff or anything. We were in an apartment for a year. We basically had kitchen and bedroom stuff. In time, it accumulates."

The guys had helped us separate all the boxes into the appropriate rooms. I was incredibly pleased I had things so well marked.

"Let's get your room finished," I said.

Corey looked at the walls. I could tell he was pleased. I had allowed him to choose the color of paint. It looked nice, even if it wouldn't have been my first choice. The shade of purple was just a bit too bright for me, but by no means garish.

When everything was in place except things hung on the wall, we turned our attention to the kitchen. This one was so much bigger than the apartment. It was everything I wanted. The blue paint was beautiful. No white walls anymore. We emptied the boxes with ease. I still had a couple of empty cabinets left, which was a nice thing. I knew they would eventually get filled.

I took a moment to rest on the couch.

—

A loud truck on the street woke me up. I was confused. Where was I? It took me a moment to realize I was on the couch in the new house. I didn't even remember falling asleep. I had a blanket on me. I guess Corey covered me up.

I knew where the coffee maker was. I got up and started us a pot. I looked at the clock. 7:12. I must have slept at least nine hours. I didn't realize I had been that exhausted.

At 8 o'clock, I softly rapped on Corey's door. Corey's door. Corey's door. I had now provided my son a door, a room, his own space. As much as boxes all over the place was daunting, there was still a thrill to be out of the small apartment and into my own house. MY house.

Corey came out a minute later. He was wearing underwear and a T-shirt. As he plopped on the couch, I noticed hair had begun to grow on his legs. Not only was he growing up, but his hormones were also probably in high gear. I had assumed he had started masturbating in months past. I wondered if he christened his new room last night.

"Morning, buddy."

"Mm'ing," he mumbled.

"How late did you stay up?"

"I dunno. Maybe 11. You sure conked out fast."

"I guess so. Thanks for finding me a blanket. That was nice of you."

"I didn't want to wake you up. Plus, every single box is so clearly marked, I just saw the box over there."

"Smart kid." I looked at all the remaining boxes. "Is it okay if we don't do coffee at Joe today? We should really get a lot of this put away. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure. It is kind of fun actually."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. We'll see how we feel in two hours and millions of boxes."

"I have a favor to ask," he said.

"Oh, what is it, Cor'?"

"Can we go buy some groceries?"

"We? Do you have a big paycheck I don't know about? Have you become a CEO of some corporation I am not aware of?"

"Okay. You buy. But we only brought over a small box of stuff. I know you were trying to thin it out before the move. But the fridge has milk, pumpkin spice creamer and a bottle of ketchup. I'd feel better going back to Mom's knowing you have food to eat."

"Aww. You're sweet, bud. Okay. But let's get some work done first."

We both had coffee at the table. Then Corey poured a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I had Raisin Bran. We put the final touches on his room. He had two things he wanted on his wall. I hung the poster of Billy Eilish. I didn't know much about her. It seemed at least a step up from his old Miley Cyrus poster. I spared him my thoughts on her personality. Why drive a wedge? We secured a bulletin board over his desk. I had brought some push pins from work. He didn't have anything to put up yet, but I could tell he was thinking about what he'd like to see. There was still wall space if he decided on what he would like to put up next. I put his school flag over the door to the bathroom. It wasn't that large.

I noticed he kicked a tissue under the bed when he thought I wasn't looking. Yeah. I recognized the look of a crusty tissue the next morning. At least his sheets were still clean.

"Should we do your room next?" he asked.

"Nah. I'll get to it tonight." I paused. "Actually, I will accept your help to make the bed. If I crash on the couch again tonight, if I wake up, I'll at least have a bed ready."

He laughed. I chuckled with him. I loved this. The house was a good feeling. I found the picture he gave me in one of the boxes and placed it on my dresser. He smiled.

We put guest towels and assorted cleaning items in the linen closet. Extra pillows and blankets went there.

The office wasn't going to go quickly, but Corey did a superb job of organizing office supplies in the drawers.

We took a break and went grocery shopping.

"Can I make us lunch?" Corey asked.

"Whaat?? I figured we would grab lunch before getting groceries."

"I want to make us something. Would you like French toast or a skillet scramble?"

"Sounds a bit breakfast-y, but I'm intrigued with your skillet scramble. I'm game."

We spent close to 45 minutes in the store. Corey systematically made sure he had all the ingredients for his dish. He also made sure I had enough food to at least last me a week. I actually did a good job of stocking the pantry with canned good, as well as a good supply of dry items. He chose two boxes of cereal for future weekends. I bought several bottled teas and flavored waters. The best thing was fresh produce, which was sorely missing from the apartment in the last month.

Corey had peeled a couple of potatoes, sliced them up and was grilling them with diced onions.

"So, how long have you been cooking?"

"Not a lot. I've tried a few things. I've watched Daryl make some things, and he has let me help."

"Has he now."

"Yeah. He's nice. I like him." Corey stirred the potatoes. He turned to me, "That's okay, isn't it?"

"Well, of course. I liked him too. Just because your mom and I aren't together doesn't mean she has to be lonely. I want her to be happy. I want her to be very happy. If Daryl makes her happy, then that's a good thing."

"Yeah."

I thought about the two dishes Corey mentioned. Breakfast dishes. Had Daryl spent the night?

"Corey, does ... Daryl ever stay over?"

"Like spend the night? No." He added pepper to the skillet. He flipped the bacon in the second skillet. After putting the lid on, he turned to me. "Are you wondering if they are romantic?"

"Umm." I didn't know what to say. "It's not my business."

"They kiss in front of me, but Mom has made it clear to me that they do not have sex."

I gulped and choked on my tea. "Did she say that?"

"Oh yes. She says that is reserved for married people."

Dear heavens, what kind of example had I been setting for him? Mitch had stayed over countless times. We all lived together for a year.

"Do you and Mom talk about sex?" I asked.

"Uck! I'd die."

I smiled at him. "I get that. But ... you know if you ever have questions you can talk to me. I'm here ... for anything."

"No thanks. I'm good."

As much as I felt blown off, I would have said the same thing as a teenager.

"So ... do you ever have feelings for anyone at school? Do you like anyone?"

It was funny that I didn't say girls. I really wasn't trying to be "woke." I guess I was just keenly aware that not everyone was heterosexual. I had no desire for him to be gay. In fact, considering his recent altercation, I hoped he wasn't. Unless that was who he was. I'd be fine with it.

"Kind of. There's a girl in choir I sort of like. I'm not sure if she likes me."

"Be a friend first. If you're nice to her, she'll notice. Then you can see if turns in to anything. Good luck."

"Whatever."

Ten minutes later, Corey was sprinkling cheese on my entrée. The skillet scramble had eggs, potatoes, bacon, green peppers and now cheese melting on top. He placed a new jar of salsa on the table if I wanted to jazz it up.

"This looks great, bud. I may have to depend on you to do some meals from time to time."

"I only know how to make a few things, but I like it. Maybe I'll learn more."

"Maybe we can make some things together."

He nodded.

"Tomorrow's Halloween. Doing anything special. Trick-or-treating or anything?"

"Trick-or-treating?? Seriously, Dad. I'm not in elementary school. Nah. Mom's letting me go over to Parker's house. We're going to watch a scary movie."

"I see. That could be fun." Before my first bite, I felt thankful. "Hey, Corey. Is it okay if we say grace before we eat?"

"Do you want to?"

"I do." I gave thanks for the food we had and the kind hands that prepared our meal. Corey was getting opposite signals from a spiritual standpoint. Prayers before meals was the least I could do.

We spent the afternoon getting more accomplished. Not that everything was done, but it was down to my bedroom for the most part. There were things to still hang on the walls and electronics to hook up, but I felt good about the weekend.

—

"Hi, I'm Cooper. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Cooper," the group replied.

"Well, I'm in my house. The months have seemed very long, but I am happy with the job the builders did. They were nice to work with, much better than those in `developments,' from what I hear. I have felt really good about being able to provide a room for my son. He seems to like it.

"I guess the big decision is how much to include Mitchell. I'm going to let it be my house for a bit, but I should make an attempt for him to have a little space, I suppose. A drawer. Space in the closet. I still need to sort out ... us. We do seem good at the moment, but is that permanent?

"Tonight I feel good. It's been a hairy month. I've really dealt with a lot. Thankfully it seems to be ending on a good note.

"Thank you."

The group clapped.

—

"Happy Halloween," I said, poking myself into Mitchell's office.

He looked up, then looked at his watch. It was 10:22. "Hi. Yeah. Happy Halloween. And all that."

"About that, I was wondering if ... I could come over to your place tonight."

"You have a brand new house!!" he replied in confusion.

"I know, but ... I'm not prepared for trick-or-treaters. I'd rather the house just remain dark. It's new. I probably won't get a lot anyway."

"Sure. You want to just duck the kids, or would you like to spend the night?"

"I think I might like sharing the night with you."

"I'll see if I can muster up some scary sex."

"Perfect night for moaning and groaning."

He laughed. "Maybe we can throw in some blood-curdling screams."

"Your walls aren't that thick."

—

I got to Mitchell's apartment at 6:00. He said he had ordered for pizza delivery.

"Do you get trick-or-treaters here?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. You and I only had a few last year. I bought a small bag of candy, just in case."

We did have a few knocks on the door. The first was the pizza. Delicious. Mitchell knew I loved mushrooms, so he ordered it on half. We alternated answering the door so we could at least get through our slices. They were done by 8 o'clock, it seemed. The more vigorous participants had moved on to the more upscale neighborhoods.

Once the nightly news had ended, we made our way to the bedroom.

I had pulled off all my clothes except my boxers. In my overnight bag, I had packed a T-shirt and I slid it on. Mitch was wearing briefs. I saw him open a drawer to get a night shirt.

"Thanks again for letting me stay, Mitch," I said.

"Of course, Derek."

He froze. I froze. We looked at each other.

"Cooper. Cooper! I meant Cooper." Mitch's lip trembled. His voice quivered. "I meant Cooper. I meant Cooper."

Mitchell looked like his body was about to fall apart into broken fragments. He panicked. His eyes watered. I, in contrast, stood motionless.

Mitch walked over to hold me. After a few seconds, I pulled away. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I meant Cooper."

"Did you see Derek today? Are ... are you seeing Derek?"

"No! No. Of course not. I swear. I swear I'm not seeing him." He could tell I was not convinced. "He ... he called me today. He asked if I would like to go out. I immediately told him `no.' I told him you and I were together. I'm sorry. I don't know why that came out. I'm so sorry."

I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, what to do.

"You said his name ... when we got to the bedroom. Were you thinking about him?"

"No. No. I don't know why I said that."

"Have you thought about his dick today?"

"What kind of question is ... what do you mean?"

"At any point today have you thought about his dick?"

"Uh ... uh ... I don't know. Why do you ..."

"Clearly you must have. If he called, I'm sure you did. You remember that dick. I remember that dick, and I barely saw it."

"All that means nothing."

He tried to hold me. I was a tree. He held me. I was simply held. My feelings hadn't registered. I wasn't angry. I wasn't hurt. I was only numb.

"Maybe I should go. I think I'm going to go."

"No! No, no, no, no. Just lie here with me."

I brushed my teeth. My hand worked so fiercely that I managed quite a froth. I walked back into the room. I just stood by the bed.

"Come on, lie with me."

I stretched out in the bed. I was a plank. Mitchell rolled over and wrapped his arm around my body. He nuzzled his face into my neck. He tried to squeeze me tighter. I was a plank. A motionless plank.

"I should probably go."

He gripped me tighter. "Stay. Don't give that any more thought. It was a flub, a mistake. It meant nothing. Forgive me. I'm sorry."

I moved out of his grasp. I kicked my legs over the side of the bed.

"I think I'm going to go home."

"Cooper, pleeeeeease stay. Stay with me. I love you. I love you. Please stay." His hands reached to my shoulders. He kissed the back of my neck. He whimpered, "I want you to stay. Stay with me. I want you."

Mitchell slid his hand up my shirt and felt my chest. He pulled my shirt off.

"I was looking forward to making love to you."

"Seriously? You think we could possibly enjoy it?"

"Just stay."

Mitch brushed his teeth hurriedly. He probably assumed I would dart from the room.

"Let's just sleep naked. That's good, right?"

I lamented. I took off my clothes. He held me. I was a plank staring at the ceiling.

That was an obvious slip. He held me in a way that I knew he loved me. He told me so.

I didn't fall asleep for an hour. Once I realized I no longer trusted him, I couldn't think about sleep.

* * * *

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