Setting The Wall Ch. 2/2

It didn't seem to matter to the old bastard that Tess begged him not to humiliate her like that. He was too bent on revenge to worry about something as trivial as her self-respect. He'd told me in his phone call that he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd told everybody what a pervert I was and I believed he was serious. Hell, I wouldn't have been surprised if he took a fucking ad out in the paper.

After that little conversation, Pete fielded the rest of the calls and finally decided to just turn off the ringer and let the machine pick up. Then he went for the second bottle of scotch when the two inches I'd had left in my old one wasn't enough to do the job. After he got back I don't remember much about the rest of the evening.

The next morning I woke up in my own bed. It had to be Pete again doing his good Samaritan impression because there was no way I'd been in any shape to get there under my own steam the night before. He'd even put a bucket by the bed, though, thank God, I hadn't needed it.

I staggered into the kitchen and found a fresh pot of coffee and a note:

Hey Dude (and fuck you cause I'm still going to call you that and I don't give a shit what you think)

Anyway, I made you some coffee cause I think you're going to need it! Now I'm going over to the tux shop and cancel the rentals. I called Bill and Mark too and told them their services wouldn't be necessary.

I called Amber and she said Tess was doing pretty good, all things considered. Her dad is really the main problem, but I guess you already figured that out. He's still majorly pissed, and Amber said if she were you, she wouldn't open the door without checking who was on the other side for a while.

Later,

P.

Oops, almost forgot. Your dad called.

I stared at that last line for a long time. Like I'd said, my dad and I were never all that close, not like he always was with my older brother, though we got along okay. But it'd been different the last couple of years since my mom died of cancer. We still weren't exactly bosom buddies, but we'd seen a lot more of each other and I think both of us had been surprised at how much fun that could be. Even so, I hadn't really thought of him once through this whole thing, or any of my family for that matter. It hadn't occurred to me to call him last night and tell him that Tess and I had called off the wedding, let alone tell him the reason why. But I knew it was going to do be necessary to do both, and pretty damn soon.

I waked over to the phone and looked at the answering machine beside it. Shit, 17 messages. They were going to have to wait. First I had to call my dad, I owed him that much at least.

I was just reaching for the phone when someone started pounding at my door. Remembering Amber's warning, I looked through the peephole first. Damn, it was Dad. I opened the door and was surprised when he grabbed and hugged me.

"I kept waiting for you to call." He said when he'd finally dropped his arms and negotiated his way through the mess of boxes on the floor to sit on my couch.

"You know," I guessed, and God, what a relief. I hadn't been sure how my dad would take the news that his younger son was gay. He wasn't as bigoted as Tess's dad, this was true, but I remembered the occasional slur when he'd see two guys being affectionate out in public and I'd never been really sure if that was just him making a bullshit comment or was a reflection of his real feelings about homosexuals.

"Yeah, I heard from... Christ, what's his name? That friend of yours from work. Mark - right? He called and said since he couldn't get a hold of you here, he thought maybe you were over at the house. Then he told me Tess had broken off the wedding. What happened? That old man of hers finally convince her you weren't good enough for her?"

Oh shit. Yeah, he knew about the engagement being over, but he didn't have a clue why. Instead he'd jumped to the conclusion that was easiest for him since he thought Tess's dad was as big an asshole as I did.

"No sir, that's not what happened."

It was the sir that tipped him off. Ever since my older brother, Trevor, and I had been kids we'd used the sir salutation when we were trying to grease our way out of some shit we'd pulled. Me using it was automatic, but it was a mistake I regretted the moment it passed my lips because I knew he'd know that whatever had happened, I'd been the one to instigate it.

"What did you do?"

Yeah, I was right.

"Look," I stalled, "do you want some coffee? Or maybe a drink? I have some scotch, I think." I looked around vaguely. I didn't think I'd drunk the whole second bottle, I was hung-over, but not as bad as I'd have been if I'd done that

"A drink? For Christ's sake Max, it's eleven o'clock in the morning. What the hell did you do if you think I need a drink now? I sat down on the opposite side of couch and sighed. "It's not what I've done, well, okay yeah, that too, but..." I looked at him and saw there was real alarm in his face. And I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me it was only going to get worse.

"Dad, there's something I need to tell you. Something I maybe think I should have talked to you about a long time ago, but I was always so sure it wasn't that big a deal and..."

I stopped myself and took a deep breath. I had to face the truth now. The time for pretending was over.

"That's a lie."

"You aren't making any sense." Dad was scared. He sounded like he did when he told me my mom had cancer. "Whatever it is, just say it. I'm sure it's something we can work out."

He'd said that about my mother too. It hadn't been true then either. I looked him dead in the face and this time I didn't hesitate.

"Dad, I'm gay. I like guys. I always have."

It was only the second time I'd actually said the words and they shocked me as much as they did him. Tess had started screaming before I got the second sentence out, but my father just stared at me like I'd suddenly started speaking in tongues. But I knew that wouldn't last and I grabbed the top of the sofa and waited for the words to sink into his brain.

"No, that isn't so." He smiled at me.

Oh Christ, this was bad. It wasn't like he was denying it to himself; more like he was trying to convince me I was wrong. He didn't even sound upset. It was like it too much for him to grasp.

"You've always dated women. And Tess-look how long you and Tess..."

"Tess didn't know," I interrupted because I'd scream if he said one more word, "nobody did. I always hid it, but believe me, Dad, it's not something I'd be saying if it weren't true. And yesterday, I finally did tell her. I should have done that a long time ago, but it wasn't until yesterday that I finally got the balls to admit it to her - and I guess even to myself. That's why we aren't getting married anymore."

His mouth had dropped open during my little speech, but now he closed it and swallowed like it hurt. "How can you even know something like that? You've always been with women."

It was a stupid question and my father was normally smarter than that. But this had thrown him like nothing I'd ever put him through before. I could see that. It was too late to back down though, even if I'd wanted to.

"I have," I agreed and I found myself talking slowly like I was explaining something to a small child, or someone who was very, very hurt. "I've also been with men. Enough to know that they're what I really want."

I watched as the reality of what I'd just said registered. Then I watched as he turned him into an old man before my eyes. He stood, but had to hold onto the end of the couch to accomplish that maneuver. He walked carefully around the boxes until he got to the front door.

He turned and started to speak. "You had so much going for you. Everything was yours, just waiting to happen. I don't know why you'd go and throw it away."

"It doesn't feel like that, Dad," I wanted to try and explain, but he put his hand up to stop me.

"Don't. Just don't. I can't hear this right now. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to hear this." His voice was rough and there were tears running down his cheeks.

He cleared his throat but his words were still choked. "Do me a favor. Don't tell your brother. He doesn't need to know, not yet. I want you to really think about all of this. You know it might not be too late, you..."

"I'm gay, Dad."

My words affected him like a slap in the face, but they had to be said until he realized I meant them. "I hope you can accept that and still think of me as your son, but whatever you decide, I'm still - I'm always - going to be gay."

"And you'll always be my son," he mumbled and I had to strain to hear him. "I would never deny that. But as for the rest, I don't know." He looked one more time at me and this time when he spoke the words were only a whisper, but they were clear and easy to catch. "I just don't know." He shut the door gently behind him.

I sat on that couch for a long time after that. I might still be sitting there if Pete hadn't come back and banged on the door until I answered it. He'd brought groceries and a new fifth of scotch for me, and one of bourbon for himself and the news that most of the plans had been cancelled.

Ron had been busy. Pete said he'd been asked by half a dozen people if it was really true that I was gay. He stumbled over the last word and it didn't take a genius to figure out it probably wasn't the same one those folks had used. Surprisingly, I didn't give a rat's ass about that. I was still reeling from my father's reaction and there is only so much you can take in at one time.

Pete offered to stay the night again, but I told him it wasn't necessary. What I meant was that I didn't really know what to say to him right then and I couldn't see what good it would do for the two of us to sit around staring at each other all night. Last night the emotions had been so high, it hadn't mattered that our friendship was entering a whole new phase, but today was something else again. I think he felt it too. At least he did, judging by the relief on his face when I told him it was okay to leave.

After he'd gone I made a trip to the kitchen and poured myself a drink. Then I went back to my spot on the couch and looked around and wondered how I was ever going to survive this mess. Some of it was about the mechanics. I'd given up my lease on the apartment and I was either going to have to renew or find a new place pronto. The movers were due the next day too and that was something I'd totally forgotten about.

I looked at my watch. It was still early enough to call and cancel and while I was at it I grabbed the phone number of the leasing agency and told them about my change of plans. Everyone was really nice, but then why shouldn't they be? The landlord hadn't leased the place yet so all I had to do was agree to a fifty buck a month raise in rent and they were set. Same thing with the movers, there's a lot of understanding you can give when you're holding a five hundred dollar nonrefundable deposit check.

I added those amounts to my share of the down payment on the condo, the money I'd forked over for the booze for the reception, the ring, the new couch and the trip to Hawaii I was never going to use, and I began to realize that not only was this whole honesty thing incredibly painful, it was damned expensive too.

But as I sat there and drank it wasn't my financial losses that I thought about. It was the anger in Tess's face and the sorrow in my dad's that haunted me. Even the confused looks Pete shot at me when he thought I wouldn't notice. I felt like smashing something - or maybe I just wanted to cry. I chose door number three and poured myself another drink.

The next morning I woke up with another hangover and a stiff neck. Pete hadn't been there to help me to my bed so I'd slept on the couch. I staggered into the bathroom. As I stood at the john, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Jesus, I could have qualified for a role in Night of the Living Dead if they decided to do a remake. I was covered in bruises and had the shiner from hell. I made my way to the kitchen to see if there was anything in there that was A, edible and B, something my stomach would agree to keep down. I shouldn't have bothered. The only things I found were the remains of the liquor. I shrugged and poured myself a stiff one.

That became the pattern of my days. I won't say I got stinking drunk all the time, but I did manage to remain pleasantly numb. I ignored the messages on my machine and when they filled it, I deleted them unheard. I didn't even leave the house. There was a drugstore a couple blocks away and for five bucks I could get one of the clerks to deliver the liquor I required to keep myself anesthetized. He even went to the grocery store for me a couple of times so I wouldn't starve to death.

I couldn't go on like that forever though and I knew it. Eleven days after I'd come out of the closet I decided that maybe it was time to come out of my apartment, too. I showered and shaved and went into the living room and looked around. My watch was on the coffee table and I picked it up and looked at it. One P.M. Today I was supposed to be getting home from my honeymoon. Tess's parents had been going to throw us a big welcome home dinner and then we were going to finally have our first night in our new place. I put it out of my mind. Last night had been the end of my pity party. I'd promised myself that. Today was a new beginning and corny as that sounds, I was actually kind of looking forward to getting started.

I decided to start out with something easy. The kid from the drugstore had kept me supplied with frozen pizzas and burritos, but I was ready for more substantial fare. I sat down and made out a grocery list, but it wasn't as much of a piece of cake as I'd thought it would be. Who knew a list of food could be made up of so many symbols of how my life had changed? First, I realized I could go back to buying two percent instead of the skim milk Tess always insisted on. Then there was the whole Mayo vs. Miracle Whip controversy we'd never really been able to get over. I could now buy all the hot sauce I wanted without having to hear her lecture about how I was killing my taste buds, and I guess I was officially back to eating pork too.

Then a thought occurred to me and I stopped. Dev's caramel corn. We'd gone through the last bag almost a month ago. I deliberately hadn't replaced it because I didn't want any leftovers around to remind me of him. Should I pick up more now? The question seemed very important and suddenly I knew I had to have a definitive answer. I almost picked up the phone, and then decided on something better.

It was stupid I supposed, but I hadn't gotten a hold of him. Part of me had really wanted to. After all, he was probably the one person on earth who would actually be happy about my change of status. I'd thought about calling him, had even picked up the phone a time or two, but something had always stopped me. I guess I hadn't been ready to take that next step in admitting who I really was, at least not until that morning.

Dev lived in Parkton, just a couple of blocks from The Station. He lived in an Arts and Crafts bungalow that had been converted into a duplex more than fifty years ago. It was owned by an aging queen who lived with his partner in the other half. The plumbing sucked, but the architectural details were superb. I'd always been jealous of Dev's place, even though the neighborhood was really too bohemian (translation: gay) for my tastes. It was a great house though, and Dev's apartment was comfortable and large. I could easily see us sharing it and... I stopped myself. There was a lot of emotional baggage to sort through before we could start thinking about me packing my clothes for real.

That didn't scare me though, today seemed like the best day of my life. I was finally free to be me, whatever the hell that meant. I parked and had to keep myself from running up the sidewalk to his door, I was that eager to see him. I was also terrified. It suddenly occurred to m that I really wasn't sure about what kind of reception I was going to get and honestly, I didn't think I'd blame him if he just slammed the door in my face.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. No answer. That didn't mean much, Dev was a late sleeper on the days he didn't work and his bedroom was way in the back of the railroad car apartment. I pounded harder and tried to ignore the sick feeling I had in my stomach that had nothing to do with last night's booze.

"You know, you can break down the fucking door and that still isn't going to get you anywhere," Keith, Dev's landlord, leaned back against his own door and took a deep drag from the cigarette he never seemed to take out of his mouth. "Except onto my shit list."

"Where's Devlin?"

I didn't waste my breath saying hi. Keith had never liked me much and I wasn't about to add his name to my Christmas list either. He and his long time lover, Nate, were both pushing 50, and what they lacked in youth and beauty, they more than made up for in sarcasm and smart assed jibes. He wasn't - in his own words - "One to take much in the way of shit."

Devlin thought they were funnier than hell and had even told me once he hoped he'd be as cool as they were when he reached their age. I couldn't see it, myself.

"Gone." Keith smiled evilly and flicked an ash off the front porch.

"No shit," I retorted, "I figured that one out myself. I meant, when will he be back?"

"Hon, you didn't figure out anything. I mean gone - as in forever."

"What?" I wanted to believe he was just being a mean bastard trying to jerk my chain, but there was a certain malicious delight in his eyes that told me he was telling me the truth.

"He moved out, darlin'. This morning. Had a moving van here and everything. Truck left about a half hour ago. Dev took off in his car a few minutes later. Don't know if he's coming back, but I doubt it."

"I don't believe you."

Keith shrugged, "Suit yourself, but I don't know why you're so damned surprised. You were moving on. Guess Dev thought it was time he did the same."

I swear I heard the bastard laughing as I jumped off the porch and went around to the side to look through Dev's living room window. There was nothing there, but a vacuum cleaner sitting in the corner and a box full of trash.

So it was true. I sagged against the cool brick of the building and tried to pull myself together. A memory flitted across my brain of the last time I'd seen Dev sitting at the head of that table in Angelo's. There was a cake and presents; I'd assumed it was somebody's birthday, but it could just as easily have been a farewell party.

I remembered something else - late night discussions about grad school and teaching. Hell, I'd even encouraged him to apply. He'd never said he would though, and then the wedding started taking up more and more of my time and attention and I'd never bothered to ask about it again.

Oh Jesus, I didn't know what I was going to do. While I'd pictured a lot of different scenarios going on between us, I'd never thought that this would be one of them. Still, I had to admit it made sense. In his position I might have done exactly the same thing. After all Dev had no idea how capable I was of fucking up my life. I'd like to think if he had, he'd have stuck around to help pick up the pieces.

After a few minutes of self-pity I pulled myself together and walked around again to the front of the building. Keith disappeared, presumably into his on side of the house. I took a deep breath and stepped up onto the porch. This time I picked the door on the right to knock on.

"You still here?" Keith looked at me with annoyance, but I barely registered it.