Growing Gracefully- Teenaged (5/7)
Title: Growing Gracefully
Pairings: USUK
Rating: T
Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations and an OC
Summary: Alfred and Arthur tackle parenthood, and so much more. (Hospital Flowers sequel.)
This chapter: Broken
Alfred began to stop touching me when Grace was twelve years old. I noticed it when he faced away from me when we slept. He always held me and kissed my lips just before dozing off. As Alfred's interest in me dwindled, millions of reasons why popped into my head. And the weeks wore on with little to no change. My main suspicion was that Alfred still disliked my lack of a "real" job. A year earlier I had started a blog and created a Twitter. I mainly talked about my life and posted pictures of me and my family, but I also posted about important issues in the LGBT world. It was good to be a part of the modern world, but it also brought about that job Alfred was so keen on me getting.
My blog was noticed by the L.A. Times, and they contacted me to see if I would be a daily advice columnist on their website. It would be just like Dear Abby, but only for LGBT questions and only about coming out, relationships, or misunderstandings of the community that heterosexuals might have; not my personal life. I didn't mind terribly, seeing as I had done something similar shortly before Grace was born, and I was to come in to the office for a few hours every day. However, I enjoyed the fact not many journalists cared about my appearance in the building. Not everyone knew I was Arthur Kirkland, and some knew, but didn't care. It was nice to have such anonymity.
I could see Alfred's point in his wanting me to work. It felt satisfying to contribute to society. And I always felt better when I knew I had helped someone struggling with their identity. So then why had it not worked with garnering Alfred's attention?
Alfred was as passive as ever. If he had work in the morning, he would come home in the evening and plop down in front of the telly with a beer until dinner. Afterwards, I would work on my blog or a story, but Alfred would stay with Grace in her room until bed. There was no interaction with me, and when there was, it always felt forced.
To top it off, Grace was beginning to feel the effects of adolescence. She was more standoffish than Alfred, and became increasingly worse the more time she holed herself up in her room to surf the Internet. Slowly, I realized I was an outcast in my own home.
One morning, I had a few rare moments alone when I realized I could take Grace to school. Since I had a job now, Grace had taken to riding the bus. Maybe this could be my chance to bond with her. Quickly, I grabbed my keys and jacket, and then rushed to Grace's room. As usual, I found her on her computer. Whenever I asked what she was doing, I earned an eyeroll and the typical teenager response: "You wouldn't understand."
"Poppet?" She looked over at me, seemingly put off by my appearance. She had changed so much in the last few years. Gone were the pigtails, replaced by shoulder-length wavy hair, make-up, and pierced ears. That didn't bother me so much as the fact that I hardly saw her smile anymore. "I have time this morning. Would you like me to take you to school like I used to?"
Another eyeroll. "No. I like to sit with my friends."
"O-oh." I deflated slightly. Glancing at her Hello Kitty clock by her nightstand, I got an idea. "How about I make you lunch instead? I'm sure the school food isn't…"
Grace seemed even more upset by this as she grimaced. "No way! You'll probably mess it up anyways."
I was hurt. Grace was never so honest with me about my cooking. She and Alfred were usually subtle about their dislike of certain dishes of mine. It wasn't a secret that I couldn't cook well, but to hear it said so bluntly made me actually step back in pain. Grace, however, didn't change her stoic expression.
She got up, grabbed her backpack, and strode out of her bedroom right past me. "I gotta go."
There was nothing I could do. It all felt too surreal. Had she really gone from my sweet, smart, and charming little lady into a sour, bitter, and cruel person? If I raised my voice against it, she would dismiss it. If I talked to Alfred about it, he would ignore me or tell me to calm down. A black hole opened up around me, clinging to my back, and pulling me backwards right out of reality.
Still, all I could do was walk after Grace to see her off at the door. She didn't even say good-bye or spare me a glance as she left. I stared at the wall numbly as a sinking feeling began to weigh me down, crushing me until my legs buckled and I slipped to the floor. But before I could shatter, I noticed Grace had left her homework lying on the kitchen table.
I jumped back up, wiping at a few stray tears, and snatched the paper up. Her bus was scheduled to arrive any second now, so I only had a short window to get down the four flights of stairs and reach her. I clamored down the hallway to the stairway, practically tumbled over my feet, and then burst through the front door of the lobby, waving her homework to her just before she stepped on the yellow school bus.
"Grace!" I shouted. She almost didn't stop, but when she saw her friends snickering at me, she turned with a pale face. I rushed to the door and thrust her paper out to her. "Here! You almost forgot this!"
"Oh… Thanks." She took the paper glumly. Again, she didn't say good-bye, nor did she thank me for my efforts. Instead she trudged down the aisle of the bus to her friends and sat by the window.
I looked up at her with a forced smile and waved. She stared at me lamely before looking away in annoyance. The window by her was down and I could hear her friends laughing at me or her, or both of us.
"Your dad is so weird!"
"Oh my God, look at those eyebrows!"
"I can't believe you have to live with him!"
Grace huffed, irritated. "Me either…"
Again, that black hole returned, and I stood outside of my body, watching numbly, as the bus drove off. I don't remember walking back to the flat, or calling in sick to work and then climbing into bed, but I remember waking up in a cold sweat in the bathroom with tissues littering the floor and dried tears caking my face.
When Alfred came home that night, he didn't notice.
This was the start of the end for us.
One night, I was lucky. Alfred came home from work late at night. I tried not to stay up, tried to tell myself I was getting too old to stay up past midnight in anticipation for his safe return, and tried to remind myself that if Alfred didn't care so much, then I shouldn't either. It never worked.
Alfred was more tired than ever as he shuffled into our room and pulled his shirt off before sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. I had the lights off and was lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, wondering if he would turn away from me in bed again, but that night he put his hand on my foot. I felt eyes on me, and I thought it romantic that perhaps he was watching me as I slept. He pulled back the covers and pressed himself against me. I felt arms engulf me. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was sad to know our relationship had dwindled to this, and just having him near me made me react like we were a new couple all over again.
I gasped in surprise, unable to hold back the pleasure of having him hold me. Alfred looked down at me as my eyes opened. "You're awake?"
"Yes…!" I breathed. This might just be a dream, I reminded myself. "I… I'm always awake when you come home late…"
Alfred didn't smile, but I felt him sag in relief against me. He put my head under his chin and interlaced his legs around mine. I felt safe and loved then. It was as if I had dreamt up all of the bad times of this past year. Perhaps it really wasn't so bad. Maybe I just needed to talk to Alfred more and get him to open up more.
The truth of the matter was, however, I was terrified of what he would say. He had physically begun to reject me, so if I asked him what was going on, would he vocally express his disinterest? Would he cast me aside like Grace had? The thought alone often sent me into panic attacks, so I tried not to dwell on it.
Tonight, however, as he held me like before and kissed my head, I felt tears prickle my eyes.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered in the still of the night. "I'm home safe…"
"I'm…still sweetheart?" I couldn't help but ask. It had been something that had nagged me in the back of my head since he had stopped calling me any of my old pet nicknames. While I had once found them obnoxious, I now looked forward to them.
"What? Yeah, of course you are." Alfred then kissed the top of my head. I began to shake as I felt the grasp on myself start to slip. I almost went into silent hysterics in his arms, but Alfred noticed me crying. "Hey, what's this all about? Why're you crying?"
"I just… I'm so happy… I'm still your sweetheart…"
Alfred chuckled as he wiped my tears. I saw him smile despite my blurry vision and the darkness and all of the pain. "Of course you are. Am I still you're darling?"
"Oh yes, yes, of course!" I kissed him hard on the mouth, reassuring myself this wasn't a dream.
It wasn't. He was real. How could I think he didn't still love me? It was simple- just a breakdown of communication. Well I aimed to change that.
"Darling," I started after I broke our kiss. I nuzzled my face into his chest and inhaled his scent. "Why have we grown so far apart…? You hardly talk to me anymore… What's going on…?"
"It's…" Alfred paused. It felt like he was ready to tell me, and I waited with bated breathe. For a moment, I realized this could be it. My nightmare could become reality and Alfred could tell me he actually didn't love me anymore, but he was holding me here and he had kissed me and there was no way it was possible. Was it?
"Babe… is there anything you need to tell me?" he asked after a time. I pulled my head back to study him.
I should have seen it, but being apart from him intimately had restricted my ability to read him as well as I could have. There were tired, dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles forming on his forehead from worry, and the markings of crow's feet already appearing. The vibrant blue hue of his eyes had dwindled. Had I truly missed that much in such a short amount of time? It made my heart ache to see he had hidden himself away from me so expertly.
"Alfred, my love, no. I fear it is you who is hiding something from me. Please… talk to me. I love you."
He opened his mouth to speak, and I inhaled in anticipation, but the phone rang. It wasn't Alfred's mobile, nor was it mine, so my first thoughts didn't jump to the conclusion it was possibly an emergency. It was the home phone. The moment was gone, and Alfred closed back up.
"Stay here," he said instead. He quickly got out of bed and headed into the living room to answer the phone. I sighed irritably, but got up to follow him. Whoever it was that would dare to call at one in the morning had better have a good reason.
Alfred was at the counter with the phone to his ear when I came into the kitchen. Instantly I knew something was wrong by his body language. I may have missed his subtle facial changes all of these months, but I could still read the signs of someone in extreme danger. I rushed to his side, and out of habit he took one of my hands in his. I began to stroke the back of his hand with my thumb as I watched him. He was starting to shake while he focused on one spot on the wooden floor of our kitchen.
"Mom…?" he breathed out in a quiet voice. "Mom… Mom, it's okay. We're coming. It's okay… We'll be there as soon as we can, okay? Just, we're on our way. I'll bring Arthur and Grace and we'll be there. It's… It's okay… Dad will be okay…"
I put my free hand over my mouth and my eyes widened in shock. My movements triggered Alfred's attention to shift to me. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I nodded in understanding, but when I tried to slip free to book airline tickets, he held onto me tightly by the hand. Instead of protesting, I waited until he was off of the phone.
"Mom, I promise you… Yes… I love you too."
I didn't even have a second to breathe before I was engulfed in all of Alfred. He pressed his face into my shoulder and squeezed my entire frame tight. I felt my feet lift up off of the ground. All I could do, and all I wanted to do, was hold that man back just as tightly. He may have distanced himself from me so suddenly, but he still loved me. I knew then that whatever it was could be easily dropped when matters of our family's safety were threatened.
"Alfred…?" I whispered at length. "What happened…? Is dad…?"
"He had a heart attack," Alfred replied, his voice muffled against my skin. "He's… Mom's so scared and I… Baby, I don't know what…"
"Sh…" I eased out of Alfred's hold, and my feet touched back down to the ground. "Darling… Come on. Keep calm, love. You go and pack. I'll arrange for the flight and wake up Grace. It'll be okay."
Alfred nodded, and he managed a small smile. I think he felt relieved by my being there for him, even after our estranged relationship as of late. He took me back into his arms and kissed me in a way I hadn't felt in months. I welcomed it, parting my lips for his tongue and interlacing my fingers into his hair. It was brief, but the moment lasted far longer than that as it settled into our skin and reverberated within our bones.
It was the energy we needed as we boarded a plane to Boston with a very irritable pre-teen. And it was the only thing that kept us together as Alfred took my hand and we found mum crying in the hospital waiting room. Samuel Jones had died from a heart attack two hours before we had landed.
I watched as Alfred broke down in front of me for the second time since we had met; the first being when Matthew died. Both times, Alfred hadn't been there for either one of their deaths, but I had been there for the aftermath. I held Alfred as he cried, as he clung to me, knowing full well he wished it was his father he was holding. I wished the same for him. How I wanted to ease all of the stress from him.
He had a good reason to put distance between us, he had to have. And there was always stress from work. If this had been the holiday season I would have chalked up to the usual stress he had, but it was nearing the end of October. Right now, whatever I was feeling was put on hold. I could wait to ask Alfred later. He needed me right now, and I was more than happy to give myself to him.
Grace's thirteenth birthday was hard on all of us. It was the first birthday of hers without a phone call from her grandfather. Mum called and wished her happiness and promised there was a card in the mail with money for her. It did little to soothe Grace's teenaged angst. She still put distance between me and her, only relaxing while we were in Boston to help mum with the funeral and getting her back on her feet. During that time, I felt things would repair between me and my family, but it only severed the ties more.
I was coming to the end of my line. Whatever I did or didn't do, it wasn't enough for either Alfred or Grace. After dad's death, I tried to be there for Alfred, but I also wanted him to be more involved with me. I asked him to help around the flat a little more given how I now had a job and couldn't constantly be on the upkeep of the place. Not only that, but I had been asked to do a few more speeches for the LGBT community, so I was traveling again.
How different it was from when Grace was a child. When I called home to let them know I had made it safely, it was almost a lost cause. Grace didn't come to the phone, she didn't cry for me to come home soon, and she certainly didn't say she missed me. Alfred was even less receptive. One night they didn't even answer when I called home, despite the fact I was in Florida for two days.
I tried to wrap my mind around just what had happened, but nothing added up. There had been no fights to pinpoint any sudden change, and there certainly had been no confrontations to strike up any possible ideas that poisoned the mind.
In the end, I came home from my trip very angry. I felt threatened. There was something going on, and I had had enough. In the days that followed my trip, I met up with two friends I had made over the past few years; Lance and Juliet. Lance was openly gay and Juliet was a feminist. It was always interesting when we all got together.
The two noticed my mood change when we met up for lunch the Wednesday after I had returned from Florida.
"Girl, you look pissed," Lance said, slightly shocked. "What happened?"
I took my seat across from them and quickly ordered tea when the busboy dropped off my menu. I sighed and then explained to them everything that had happened, starting from my notice of Alfred's inattention, Grace's adolescent intolerance, dad's death, and my feeling of there being an inability for me to do anything. When I finished, I chugged the cool water on the table while I let my news sink it. In retrospect, it was rather harsh of me to dump so much on my friends so suddenly, but they didn't care. Unlike my family, they wanted to hear if something was wrong.
"Oh God, that's horrible!" Juliet put her hand on mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You do not deserve that."
"What is up with Al?" Lance crossed his arms as he frowned. He had met Alfred once before on a rare occasion Alfred joined me at one of my speeches. Lance liked Alfred, mainly for how handsome he is, but Alfred left feeling very uncomfortable from their meeting. It was odd that he didn't like someone. "I thought he worshipped you."
I snorted as I sipped at my now lukewarm tea. "He never did, but in any case, he's gone from loving to stone cold."
"Is it because of his father's death?" Juliet asked lightly.
"I've tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but this problem arose before then. If I had to pinpoint an exact time frame, I'd say it was years ago when he first brought up my 'unemployment'."
Juliet grimaced at this as if she had tasted something sour. "That was so wrong of him to do to you. So what if he has a 'real job'? For God's sake, if it wasn't for Hospital Flowers you two wouldn't have afforded all of the money for the apartment, Grace's baby things, and saving for her college fund. It's like when a husband gets angry his wife brings home more money than him, so he blames the wife, in this case, you."
I sighed again. "I know…"
"What ever the case is for Al actin' like a jerk, you need to be strong about it." Lance put his hand on my other hand. "It's totally obvious he doesn't trust you."
Juliet nodded vehemently. "Lance is right!"
"If that's the case…" I looked down at the two hands on top of mine and wished desperately they were the hands of my family instead. To come so close to having that happy atmosphere, I was scared of what the answer would be if I asked Alfred bluntly what was wrong if that meant this lifestyle would be violently ripped from me.
Of course, I had already watched it slowly disintegrate over the course of the past few years. What did it matter if it was an implosion?
Later on that day, I came home and collapsed on my bed. Lunch had emotionally drained me. Thoughts whirled in my head of assumptions about what the truth was. They then changed to memories of Grace when she was young. She loved to run away from me and have me chase her. It was constantly a game. If I didn't follow or she couldn't see me, she'd begin to cry. We could never be apart for too long.
My precious girl that I used to fear could be taken away from us. Where had she gone? She'd traded plush cats and butterflies for boys and make-up and social networks that inhibited her ability to actually be social. I had no idea what school was like for her, no clue what her grades were, or if she still liked to dance as she had when she was so young. That was more terrifying a thought than what drove Alfred away from me.
As my body drifted between the edge of sleep and conscious, I heard Alfred come home. He checked the bedroom first and found me lying on my stomach with my face in the pillow. I wanted to turn and say hello, but the heaviness of sleep prevented me from acting right away.
I heard him fumble with something on the nightstand, and then after a moment, I turned to acknowledge him. However, I froze when I saw him holding my mobile, reading it.
"Alfred?"
He nearly dropped the phone as he quickly put it back down, as if he had never picked it up in the first place. "Whoa, you're awake! I thought you were sleeping."
"What were you doing?" I turned fully around and sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you reading something?"
"What? No! Why would you think that?" He tried to laugh it off, but when I reached for my phone, he jumped to stop me. "Babe, it's fine! Just! Don't! C'mon, Arthur. Please?"
I ignored him and unlocked the screen. My text messages appeared on the screen. I stood up and stared at Alfred accusingly. "You were reading my messages! Why the bloody hell would you invade my privacy like that?!"
"I just! You know! I thought…"
"What?!" I snapped. "What did you think?!"
Alfred hesitated, staring at me uncertainly, before he dropped all pretenses and finally explained himself. "I just…thought you had a text message to meet someone somewhere…"
"You mean…for a meet up or something?" I asked slowly, fearing what he was insinuating. Oh God, please not that.
Alfred blushed and looked to the floor briefly. Then, he looked me right in the eyes and I knew him to be sincere. "No. I thought…like a lover or something."
At first I wanted to laugh, maybe even just chuckle or something to ease the tension in the room. All of this came down to his thinking I was cheating on him? That in and of itself should have been enough to make me laugh it all off and quell his fears as completely baseless, but there was no humor in this situation. It made sense now: why he was angry I traveled, why he didn't like some of my male friends, why he grew so cold to me. It was as Lance said, he didn't trust me.
The black hole I had felt just months earlier returned from my heart. It seeped up through my body, sucking out all of the color from my veins, and leaving me as a shell of who I was as I realized this was the end. If my husband couldn't trust me, then what kind of relationship was this?
Gripping the phone, I shoved Alfred aside. I had to get away from him. The anger consumed me until I couldn't speak. As luck would have it, however, Grace had decided to come home just then. She was blowing a bubble with her gum, had her headphones on, and was on her blasted iPod again, browsing her social sites. She didn't even care to say hello to me or look up. Seeing her disrespectful state made something in me snap.
"I have had it with this family!" I shouted. Alfred had followed me, and Grace looked up in surprise. I pointed first at Alfred, spitting all the venom I had in me right at him. "HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF AN AFFAIR YOU ARSEHOLE! I did everything you wanted of me! I went out and got a bloody job and made some fucking friends, and yet you're the one not fucking me or even touching me! How could you even THINK such a thing from me?!"
Alfred frowned. Briefly, he looked ready to start shouting back, but there was a flash of sadness in his eyes. He backed down. "Well… I saw that picture online…"
"What picture?!" I seethed.
Without saying a word, Grace held out her iPod to show me a photograph on the Internet. It was of me and some unknown man kissing. The quality was poor, and it was obvious there were two different light sources. The fact Alfred believed a photo from the Internet before consulting me about any of this sealed the deal on the pathetic reality of this situation.
"I cannot believe you!" I turned back to Alfred, snatching Grace's iPod from her hand. She yelped in surprise as it tugged her headphones off. Thrusting the screen into Alfred's face, I continued to yell. "How the hell could you put this photograph above our trust?! Why didn't you just ASK me?!"
Alfred rubbed his elbow as he shifted his weight. He was stalling. "I just… You know… I'm hardly home and all of these guys are hot…"
There, I began to laugh. "Oh ho, so it's my fault that I have hot friends? Were you not the one who told me to make them in the first place?"
"Yeah, but not hot and gay ones!"
"Don't you dare…" I started, backing away.
Alfred inhaled sharply. Then, he gripped me by the arms and shook me slightly. "DON'T I DARE WHAT?! ALL YOU DO IS COMMAND GRACE AND I AROUND LIKE WE'RE YOUR LITTLE SLAVES! You've always treated me this way! Holding it above my head that you wrote this amazing book and bring home tons of money-"
"Don't put me down for my success because you can't handle it!" I shouted back.
Grace had scuttled up against the wall. She had never heard us argue or raise our voices above that of scolding. To see us get so in each other's faces and shriek until our voices cracked scared her. She could only watch, unable to say anything in anyone's defense.
I threw my hands up in defeat, throwing Grace's iPod at Alfred's chest. "HERE! Take that and look up more fake pictures!"
Then, I turned to vent more on Grace. I missed the pale color to her face and her wide, watery eyes. "And YOU! You're a horrible, disrespectful, person! What happened to my little lady?! Why don't you look up and acknowledge the world for once?! Stop hiding away on the Internet! Do you really hate the fact we're gay that bloody much?!"
"ARTHUR!" Alfred bellowed.
"I can't stay here any longer!" I shouted.
That stopped everything. Alfred's shoulders fell with his bravado and Grace began to tear up in her corner. "What…?"
Alfred reached for me again, but just the sight of him disgusted me. I jerked away and headed for the door. I heard Alfred trail after me, but I turned sharply and pointed a finger right in his face.
"Don't you dare follow me! I don't want to see you! You're filth! To think, after all these years you said you loved me and you trusted me, and yet you never wanted to publically say we were married. This was all a lie!"
"No…"
"No, it was, Alfred! Think about it! You say you love me, that you're my hero, and yet you let some petty reasons control you to the point you won't trust me or touch me! So now it's come to this! I can't believe you! I don't even know you! I can't believe you just actually accused me…for the past few years… that I…"
I choked up. I wanted to keep up a strong and proud front, but I was crumbling. The more I said it, the louder it rang true in my ears.
"If you can't trust me, then you can't love me."
"N-no! That's not true!" Alfred tried, but I stopped him when I opened the door behind me.
"Without trust, there can't be love." I was crying now. It was shameful, and I felt ugly, but I had to leave. All of this was drowning me in more emotions than I could understand. The black hole had left, but now I was a torrent of emptiness that unleashed everything. I could not be stopped. "I have to go."
"No… No please, Arthur! ARTHUR, PLEASE, I LOVE YOU!"
But I was gone. I ran down the hallway, opted for the stairway, and tried to get down to the bottom floor before I collapsed, but I wasn't strong enough. On the second landing, I fell against the wall and started to cry. I pounded the hard wall, imagining it was that horrid, fake picture. My wrist began to hurt and my breath came out in short spurts. I had to keep it together.
Somehow I did as I drove to a hotel on the outskirts of the city and checked in for a single room. It would be like when I traveled, yes. That's what I told myself. Only, I had no bags, and I had no clear timeframe of how long I would be there. And I had no family to return to.
Alfred's betrayal was more than his stupidity of not communicating with me, but it was the fact he thought such a thing about me in the first place. He actually thought that I, a man that wrote of his love and constantly advised other homosexuals by using examples of our marriage, would actually sleep with someone else. That he didn't come to me in the first place struck right through my heart.
Here I thought someone would actually stay in my life, but Alfred was just like the rest. He disowned me.
I fell onto the bed in a heap of my own tears, and cried loudly into the pillow. I thought I might hyperventilate if I wasn't careful, although, at this point, nothing mattered. My shamble of a marriage, my ruined relationship with my daughter, and my future were all gone. At forty, I was on my own, again.
All the while, my mobile was constantly ringing. Why I didn't turn it off, I don't know. Perhaps it reassured me that Alfred was looking for me. He was trying to call me. There was hope in my heart that maybe he did still love me. But it was squashed the longer I lay there crying. I told myself to stop. Stop because he had long ago.
Then, the ringtone changed. That was Grace.
Quickly, I answered. She may have been crude these past few years, but the memory of what I had said to her before I left made me feel disgusting all over again. I should not have acted so wildly and said such untrue things. Rude or not, she was still my daughter, and I loved her, even if I knew she did not me.
I didn't say anything as I answered. I heard her sobbing on the other end. My heart clenched the last of my happiness out.
"Papa…?" she croaked. "Papa, where are you…? Are you hurt…? Where are you…? Please come home… Daddy left and I'm all alone and I don't know where you are and I'm sorry! Papa, please! I love you! I do! I don't hate you!"
"How can I believe you…?" I murmured. Numbness began to seep into my body much like it had before I started to fall asleep just an hour ago. Oh, how far away that seemed. "You… You don't trust me either…"
"No, that's not true!" Grace began crying harder. Her voice was louder and slightly muffled. I pictured her curled up in a ball under her bed sheets as she clutched her old baby giraffe. I shook my head to rid myself of the image. "No, I just… Please, papa… Please… Come home… I'm all alone."
"Why…?"
Grace cried harder for a few minutes and I waited. I hated hearing her cry, but I knew she needed this. I needed this.
Then, "I hate school… All I do…is get picked on… For having gay daddies… I just want to be happy… So I faked that I hated you guys… That I didn't like you two being gay. I told everyone you're bad parents and you fuck so loud I can hear you and that I'm grossed out by it… Everyone thinks because you're gay… I'm gay… But… I'm not…! I just…"
"Is that why you said those things on the bus that day…?" I asked slowly.
"Yes," Grace wept. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it! I miss you, papa! Please, come home. I want you to hold me like you used to."
Thinking of Grace alone did disturb me. She might be thirteen, but I hated thinking of her ever being alone. It was a thought all parents were haunted by.
"Stay there…"
"Papa?"
"I'm coming home."
The night was cold and brisk, but I ignored it. I hadn't grabbed a jacket and was still wearing my shorts from the earlier mildly warm day. I had really grown accustomed to Southern California weather. The apartment complex physically looked the same as when I had left, but to me, it now seemed darker. I almost turned to run back into my car, but I couldn't leave Grace when she was waiting.
I said such cruel things to her. She didn't deserve it. She was only a teenager.
The door was unlocked. I was deeply unnerved by this. Living in L.A. for all of these years, even in a "good" neighborhood like ours, I was still nervous of break-ins, especially when I knew my thirteen year old daughter was inside. But, then I thought that perhaps she had unlocked the door for me.
The flat was quiet when I entered. There was no sound of Grace crying or Alfred begging for me to come back. There was only the ringing in my ears echoing from my memories. I didn't even turn on the lights as I made my way to Grace's bedroom. She was in her bed, curled up, clutching the giraffe just as I pictured over the phone. She wasn't thirteen, but rather six years old, scared of monsters under the bed and crying for her daddies to comfort her.
My instincts took over as I rushed to her side. She flung herself onto me and curled up into a ball in my lap. I held her like she was a child once more. She shook in my arms, and I knew she still was. Somewhere in there, Grace was still the tiny baby I once rocked in a chair to sleep every night. If only I could hold onto this moment forever, I thought. I didn't need anything else. Or anyone.
"Is it my fault…?" Grace whimpered.
"What?" I stroked her hair.
"That you left… is it my fault…? I didn't know it was a fake… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Grace began to cry harder, much like I had in the hotel room shortly before she called. "Daddy fell on the ground when you left and cried and I felt… And then he ran after you. I didn't know where you went or where he is…"
"Shh," I soothed. I began rocking her gently. It was pitiful of me, but yes, I did find slight enjoyment at being able to calm my daughter in such a familiar way once again. "No, it wasn't your fault… I don't blame you… I'm sorry for yelling and saying such things to you."
"Then you won't be mad for this…?"
I heard the door close behind me, and froze. I didn't turn around, didn't even open my eyes. I pretended he wasn't there, but I felt eyes staring at my back and could hear him panting. He had run all the way back home.
"You told…?" I whispered.
"I'm sorry," Grace murmured. She let go of me and moved to get off of my lap.
I was left alone with anxiety creeping up my back. No one spoke first. No one wanted to. Where to start?
"I can't stay," I said finally, settling on an emotion that I picked from the many floating aimlessly around inside of me. "I just… I can't."
"Why?" Alfred asked. His voice croaked and he was still breathing heavily. Unlike with Grace, I couldn't imagine what he looked like right now. All I saw in my head were blue eyes that were, hopefully, struggling with tears.
"Because, I'm so tired. I'm… When it comes down to it, Alfred, you just want me here because it's convenient for you and Grace."
"That's not true!" Alfred yelled.
I tensed visibly, so Alfred sucked in his breath. He waited for a few moments before he spoke again. "No, that's not true. We love you."
"I'm nothing to you," I started with a faint voice. "And I feel so empty now… I've said everything I feel."
"Please, this is just…over a picture and… And I'm stupid. It's my fault."
I shook my head slowly. I still hadn't opened my eyes. "No... I'm at fault too… I pushed you both away by…being so clingy… I just… Don't blame just yourself…"
"Arthur, we can make this work."
"Not right now."
I stood and finally opened my eyes. I turned around to face the man I had lived with for fifteen years, shared my bed with, had my meals with, made love with, and shared my secrets with. And knew he had withheld his anger from me, withheld his love from me, and cast me aside so easily. He didn't look like the same man who had saved me from a burning car, wheeled me around L.A., brought me flowers, and declared naked days like it was a sport. He was older and carried more weight on his shoulders than I'd ever seen before. I felt a pang of guilt and regret because I knew I was hurting him, but he was hurting me too. It was mutual, and we had to be apart to heal before we could rip open the wounds again. If I even wanted that to happen, that is.
"Alfred, it's not about the picture, it's not about you and Grace hiding away, it's not even about the secret… It's about how we have whittled down to this. I have to physically be away from you and you have to conceal yourself from me. I will stay in a hotel and visit Grace when she wants to see me, but I cannot see you. I don't want to. You hurt."
Alfred looked pale, and I feared he might faint. He stood his ground, albeit a little unsteadily, but he nodded and didn't fight me anymore. I kissed Grace on the head and wiped her tears.
"It's better this way," I told her.
Then, I left.
"Girl, you still look terrible!" Lance commented. It had been four weeks since I moved out and took up residence in a hotel, claiming that there was sewer damage at my house so I could get a cheaper price for the length of time I'd be there. However, I still had no idea how long that would be. "I thought leaving Al would do you some good."
"It…has, but now with Prop 13 I'm running everywhere to fight for it to be abolished."
Juliet rolled her eyes as she sucked on her straw for her soda. "That Prop is as dumb as Prop 8 was. There's no way it'll pass this time."
"Not with Arthur Kirkland as the front spokesman for it! Although, I keep hearing people whisper that Al should be with you. Do you think anyone knows yet?"
I shrugged. Nancy and my PR agent knew of my separation with Alfred, but we all agreed that it was in the best interest of the family and others following me that they not notice anything. That didn't stop people from wondering why I looked different. It was evident that while I was slowly healing from all the emotional wounds, I wasn't happy with the outcome.
Over the course of a few weeks, I returned to the flat when I knew Alfred was at work to collect my things. I paused when I pulled my clothes from the closet, and gently touched Alfred's shirts. How would he feel when he came home that day and saw half of the closet was empty? I gulped down my heart as I moved to finish collecting my things.
Sometimes Grace was there and she would watch silently. I'd treat her to lunch if it was a weekend, or I'd leave her a note saying I still loved her. Once or twice I would check on the food to see what wasn't on the grocery list, and then put it on there. A few times I did their laundry and dusted. I'm not sure why, but it was habit by now. And, a small part of me felt guilt that I had been the one who left.
I could have stayed; slept on the couch and just avoided Alfred like he had me. It had been easy enough when it was him and Grace in her room. I could easily have done the same with my computer and possibly stayed in the bedroom until Alfred went to sleep. But I felt the air was too thick when I was close to Alfred.
There was still that initial tug at my heart to be close to him. I had to resist all the urges to take his hand, stroke his face, and tell him that everything would be all right. How was I to know what the outcome of this would be when I didn't even know myself?
Ever since I moved out I had changed. At first, I thought I'd revert to being a hermit again, but I found I was more active than ever. With protests and speeches and my normal work hours, I hardly had time to be sad. It normally came at night when I slept alone and realized I was really gone. That this was my new life.
Alfred tried to call me after two weeks, and asked if it was better. I told him I needed time. He stopped calling after that.
While I was at lunch with Juliet and Lance, I received the first call from him in weeks. "Oh…It's Alfred."
My heart beat hard in my chest. Was I nervous, excited, or scared? I hadn't heard his voice in so long, I worried that he was fading away from my memories too quickly.
"You gonna answer that?" Lance asked cautiously.
"I had better…" I moved from the table to find a quiet part of the café. I took a few deep breaths, and then answered. "…Hello?"
"...Hi."
I breathed out loudly. Too loudly. My face blushed in embarrassment. I was grateful Alfred couldn't see me. "Yes?"
"Um… I found some things of yours. Did you want to meet me somewhere so I can give it to you or do you want to…?" He sounded different, again. I couldn't place who it was he reminded me of at that moment.
"No, we can meet… How about at the park…?" Another bad memory added to that park. One more couldn't hurt.
"Okay… Are you busy right now?"
"Yes, but I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"…Okay. See you then." He hung up.
I stayed in my small spot for a little longer while I told myself to stay standing. I would not cry.
The seasons were changing and the summer season was fading fast. California had an adversity to four seasons, and really maneuvered around summer and winter, with a two or three week period of fall and spring. At the moment it was teetering on the edge of fall. I clutched my jacket close to my body as a chill wind swept through the air. Anything below sixty and I became a shivering mess. What happened to my thick English skin?
Alfred approached me with a bag in his hand. He was also sporting a jacket. We made eye contact, but said nothing. I remembered now, who it was he reminded me of. It was me. He looked so tired and his eyes were sunken in and there was a pale color to his skin that hadn't been there before. Like me, all of the color had left his veins and he was an empty shell. I saw that same expression every morning I looked in the mirror.
"Here," he said suddenly, breaking our contact. He held out the bag.
I took it and looked inside. It was a few books and my oven mitt and slippers that I guess had been pushed under our bed. They weren't important to me. I looked up at Alfred and thanked him.
"…Can we walk?" Alfred asked. He turned slightly to nod at the pathway that wound around the pond.
I hesitated. He meant "can we talk" and I didn't know if I was ready. Four weeks had been a long time to think about things, but it suddenly felt like it hadn't been. I didn't have my guard back up and my insides felt too raw to get upset about anything heavy. Still, I sort of fancied a walk/talk right about now.
I said nothing and began to follow the path, Alfred joining me by my side. We just enjoyed the breeze and the silence between us, but I noticed the distance more than anything. It was so prominent, so ugly, that I had to look at Alfred to distract me.
"How…is Grace?" I asked at length.
"Good… She's good…," Alfred replied with a nod. He was looking straight ahead and his eyes never wavered to look over at me. "Her grades are going up…"
I nodded, but said nothing again.
"I moved her." I looked over with furrowed eyebrows, stopping suddenly. Alfred stopped as well, and then looked at me with a defeated expression. It was as if we had quickly had a feud and he was already giving up, or apologizing. "You don't understand, Arthur. Things were bad there. She had to leave that school. She's happier at this one."
"Of course I wouldn't understand. I wasn't told anything." I bit my lip to stop myself, but it was too late. My snappy comeback hurt Alfred.
He turned to look at his feet and sighed. "I deserved that…"
"I'm sorry," I whispered, but I don't think Alfred heard me.
"She joined GSA. She said she wants to be like you now. She's joined as an Ally and is rallying against Prop 13… Like you."
Somehow that did little to make me feel better. I didn't want Grace to be involved in politics or any of the sorts. I preferred her to being the carefree, dancing starlit of the stage. "What of her dancing?"
"She still does it," Alfred said. "Just… she does both. She likes it. She said it makes her understand us more…"
"That's…good…"
Alfred started to walk again, and I followed. "I was promoted. I'm captain now."
Again, I stopped and stared. "What…? But what of Antonio…?"
"He's sergeant now. It's good I was promoted. More stable hours, better pay."
Had we been better, I would have congratulated Alfred. Possibly hugged him and kissed his cheek. I wanted to. But this was my life now. I was only to be a spectator in Alfred and Grace's life. This was what I had chosen. And, like I had told Grace so long ago, it was better this way.
Alfred reached into his jacket's pocket and pulled out a small business card. He studied it briefly, and then held it out to me. "Take this."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Just… We need help, Arthur. This will help us. Jaime recommended me to her."
"Counseling?" I asked. Alfred nodded. I wanted to laugh it off, but Alfred stopped me with that crushed expression.
"I'm not letting you go… One way or the other. If we're to stay friends…then fine… But I want you to be happy…"
I gulped, hoping for something wet in my mouth, but came up dry. I croaked, "I want…you to be happy too."
"I'm happy with you," Alfred started, but I shot a hand up to stop him.
"Don't. Don't put that on me."
"But... Okay. Sorry." Alfred stepped back, but he still held that card out to me. "We can't do this on our own. We tried and… We need help. I still…I do still love you. You may not think so, but I know I do. I know you do too. Why else would you leave those notes for Grace and always write at the bottom 'say hello to your father' or finish our grocery list? Why else would you… still fight for marriage equality…?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it. I didn't want to say anything more. I couldn't breathe. The tight and constricted feeling returned, and I had to get away. I was scared.
But I was more afraid of the sneak-peak of my future I had witnessed today; the outsider's view of a life I once lived. I wanted to watch Grace grow up, and I wanted to freely talk to Alfred and congratulate him, and I wanted to sleep beside him and push his hair behind his ear and kiss him and-
I took the card.
Hoshiko2's cents: I hope this chapter came out as well I wanted it to. This chapter means a lot to me, and went through several rewrites before I settled on an outcome I deemed good enough. Two chapters left. See you next week. Also, Hoyle Act 2 starts up this week. I hope to see you there.
(Prop 13 is fake and made-up, and by now the year is 2018 in the story, so from here on out, political and social issues are purely fictional.)
Pairings: USUK
Rating: T
Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations and an OC
Summary: Alfred and Arthur tackle parenthood, and so much more. (Hospital Flowers sequel.)
This chapter: Broken
Alfred began to stop touching me when Grace was twelve years old. I noticed it when he faced away from me when we slept. He always held me and kissed my lips just before dozing off. As Alfred's interest in me dwindled, millions of reasons why popped into my head. And the weeks wore on with little to no change. My main suspicion was that Alfred still disliked my lack of a "real" job. A year earlier I had started a blog and created a Twitter. I mainly talked about my life and posted pictures of me and my family, but I also posted about important issues in the LGBT world. It was good to be a part of the modern world, but it also brought about that job Alfred was so keen on me getting.
My blog was noticed by the L.A. Times, and they contacted me to see if I would be a daily advice columnist on their website. It would be just like Dear Abby, but only for LGBT questions and only about coming out, relationships, or misunderstandings of the community that heterosexuals might have; not my personal life. I didn't mind terribly, seeing as I had done something similar shortly before Grace was born, and I was to come in to the office for a few hours every day. However, I enjoyed the fact not many journalists cared about my appearance in the building. Not everyone knew I was Arthur Kirkland, and some knew, but didn't care. It was nice to have such anonymity.
I could see Alfred's point in his wanting me to work. It felt satisfying to contribute to society. And I always felt better when I knew I had helped someone struggling with their identity. So then why had it not worked with garnering Alfred's attention?
Alfred was as passive as ever. If he had work in the morning, he would come home in the evening and plop down in front of the telly with a beer until dinner. Afterwards, I would work on my blog or a story, but Alfred would stay with Grace in her room until bed. There was no interaction with me, and when there was, it always felt forced.
To top it off, Grace was beginning to feel the effects of adolescence. She was more standoffish than Alfred, and became increasingly worse the more time she holed herself up in her room to surf the Internet. Slowly, I realized I was an outcast in my own home.
One morning, I had a few rare moments alone when I realized I could take Grace to school. Since I had a job now, Grace had taken to riding the bus. Maybe this could be my chance to bond with her. Quickly, I grabbed my keys and jacket, and then rushed to Grace's room. As usual, I found her on her computer. Whenever I asked what she was doing, I earned an eyeroll and the typical teenager response: "You wouldn't understand."
"Poppet?" She looked over at me, seemingly put off by my appearance. She had changed so much in the last few years. Gone were the pigtails, replaced by shoulder-length wavy hair, make-up, and pierced ears. That didn't bother me so much as the fact that I hardly saw her smile anymore. "I have time this morning. Would you like me to take you to school like I used to?"
Another eyeroll. "No. I like to sit with my friends."
"O-oh." I deflated slightly. Glancing at her Hello Kitty clock by her nightstand, I got an idea. "How about I make you lunch instead? I'm sure the school food isn't…"
Grace seemed even more upset by this as she grimaced. "No way! You'll probably mess it up anyways."
I was hurt. Grace was never so honest with me about my cooking. She and Alfred were usually subtle about their dislike of certain dishes of mine. It wasn't a secret that I couldn't cook well, but to hear it said so bluntly made me actually step back in pain. Grace, however, didn't change her stoic expression.
She got up, grabbed her backpack, and strode out of her bedroom right past me. "I gotta go."
There was nothing I could do. It all felt too surreal. Had she really gone from my sweet, smart, and charming little lady into a sour, bitter, and cruel person? If I raised my voice against it, she would dismiss it. If I talked to Alfred about it, he would ignore me or tell me to calm down. A black hole opened up around me, clinging to my back, and pulling me backwards right out of reality.
Still, all I could do was walk after Grace to see her off at the door. She didn't even say good-bye or spare me a glance as she left. I stared at the wall numbly as a sinking feeling began to weigh me down, crushing me until my legs buckled and I slipped to the floor. But before I could shatter, I noticed Grace had left her homework lying on the kitchen table.
I jumped back up, wiping at a few stray tears, and snatched the paper up. Her bus was scheduled to arrive any second now, so I only had a short window to get down the four flights of stairs and reach her. I clamored down the hallway to the stairway, practically tumbled over my feet, and then burst through the front door of the lobby, waving her homework to her just before she stepped on the yellow school bus.
"Grace!" I shouted. She almost didn't stop, but when she saw her friends snickering at me, she turned with a pale face. I rushed to the door and thrust her paper out to her. "Here! You almost forgot this!"
"Oh… Thanks." She took the paper glumly. Again, she didn't say good-bye, nor did she thank me for my efforts. Instead she trudged down the aisle of the bus to her friends and sat by the window.
I looked up at her with a forced smile and waved. She stared at me lamely before looking away in annoyance. The window by her was down and I could hear her friends laughing at me or her, or both of us.
"Your dad is so weird!"
"Oh my God, look at those eyebrows!"
"I can't believe you have to live with him!"
Grace huffed, irritated. "Me either…"
Again, that black hole returned, and I stood outside of my body, watching numbly, as the bus drove off. I don't remember walking back to the flat, or calling in sick to work and then climbing into bed, but I remember waking up in a cold sweat in the bathroom with tissues littering the floor and dried tears caking my face.
When Alfred came home that night, he didn't notice.
This was the start of the end for us.
One night, I was lucky. Alfred came home from work late at night. I tried not to stay up, tried to tell myself I was getting too old to stay up past midnight in anticipation for his safe return, and tried to remind myself that if Alfred didn't care so much, then I shouldn't either. It never worked.
Alfred was more tired than ever as he shuffled into our room and pulled his shirt off before sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. I had the lights off and was lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, wondering if he would turn away from me in bed again, but that night he put his hand on my foot. I felt eyes on me, and I thought it romantic that perhaps he was watching me as I slept. He pulled back the covers and pressed himself against me. I felt arms engulf me. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was sad to know our relationship had dwindled to this, and just having him near me made me react like we were a new couple all over again.
I gasped in surprise, unable to hold back the pleasure of having him hold me. Alfred looked down at me as my eyes opened. "You're awake?"
"Yes…!" I breathed. This might just be a dream, I reminded myself. "I… I'm always awake when you come home late…"
Alfred didn't smile, but I felt him sag in relief against me. He put my head under his chin and interlaced his legs around mine. I felt safe and loved then. It was as if I had dreamt up all of the bad times of this past year. Perhaps it really wasn't so bad. Maybe I just needed to talk to Alfred more and get him to open up more.
The truth of the matter was, however, I was terrified of what he would say. He had physically begun to reject me, so if I asked him what was going on, would he vocally express his disinterest? Would he cast me aside like Grace had? The thought alone often sent me into panic attacks, so I tried not to dwell on it.
Tonight, however, as he held me like before and kissed my head, I felt tears prickle my eyes.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered in the still of the night. "I'm home safe…"
"I'm…still sweetheart?" I couldn't help but ask. It had been something that had nagged me in the back of my head since he had stopped calling me any of my old pet nicknames. While I had once found them obnoxious, I now looked forward to them.
"What? Yeah, of course you are." Alfred then kissed the top of my head. I began to shake as I felt the grasp on myself start to slip. I almost went into silent hysterics in his arms, but Alfred noticed me crying. "Hey, what's this all about? Why're you crying?"
"I just… I'm so happy… I'm still your sweetheart…"
Alfred chuckled as he wiped my tears. I saw him smile despite my blurry vision and the darkness and all of the pain. "Of course you are. Am I still you're darling?"
"Oh yes, yes, of course!" I kissed him hard on the mouth, reassuring myself this wasn't a dream.
It wasn't. He was real. How could I think he didn't still love me? It was simple- just a breakdown of communication. Well I aimed to change that.
"Darling," I started after I broke our kiss. I nuzzled my face into his chest and inhaled his scent. "Why have we grown so far apart…? You hardly talk to me anymore… What's going on…?"
"It's…" Alfred paused. It felt like he was ready to tell me, and I waited with bated breathe. For a moment, I realized this could be it. My nightmare could become reality and Alfred could tell me he actually didn't love me anymore, but he was holding me here and he had kissed me and there was no way it was possible. Was it?
"Babe… is there anything you need to tell me?" he asked after a time. I pulled my head back to study him.
I should have seen it, but being apart from him intimately had restricted my ability to read him as well as I could have. There were tired, dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles forming on his forehead from worry, and the markings of crow's feet already appearing. The vibrant blue hue of his eyes had dwindled. Had I truly missed that much in such a short amount of time? It made my heart ache to see he had hidden himself away from me so expertly.
"Alfred, my love, no. I fear it is you who is hiding something from me. Please… talk to me. I love you."
He opened his mouth to speak, and I inhaled in anticipation, but the phone rang. It wasn't Alfred's mobile, nor was it mine, so my first thoughts didn't jump to the conclusion it was possibly an emergency. It was the home phone. The moment was gone, and Alfred closed back up.
"Stay here," he said instead. He quickly got out of bed and headed into the living room to answer the phone. I sighed irritably, but got up to follow him. Whoever it was that would dare to call at one in the morning had better have a good reason.
Alfred was at the counter with the phone to his ear when I came into the kitchen. Instantly I knew something was wrong by his body language. I may have missed his subtle facial changes all of these months, but I could still read the signs of someone in extreme danger. I rushed to his side, and out of habit he took one of my hands in his. I began to stroke the back of his hand with my thumb as I watched him. He was starting to shake while he focused on one spot on the wooden floor of our kitchen.
"Mom…?" he breathed out in a quiet voice. "Mom… Mom, it's okay. We're coming. It's okay… We'll be there as soon as we can, okay? Just, we're on our way. I'll bring Arthur and Grace and we'll be there. It's… It's okay… Dad will be okay…"
I put my free hand over my mouth and my eyes widened in shock. My movements triggered Alfred's attention to shift to me. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I nodded in understanding, but when I tried to slip free to book airline tickets, he held onto me tightly by the hand. Instead of protesting, I waited until he was off of the phone.
"Mom, I promise you… Yes… I love you too."
I didn't even have a second to breathe before I was engulfed in all of Alfred. He pressed his face into my shoulder and squeezed my entire frame tight. I felt my feet lift up off of the ground. All I could do, and all I wanted to do, was hold that man back just as tightly. He may have distanced himself from me so suddenly, but he still loved me. I knew then that whatever it was could be easily dropped when matters of our family's safety were threatened.
"Alfred…?" I whispered at length. "What happened…? Is dad…?"
"He had a heart attack," Alfred replied, his voice muffled against my skin. "He's… Mom's so scared and I… Baby, I don't know what…"
"Sh…" I eased out of Alfred's hold, and my feet touched back down to the ground. "Darling… Come on. Keep calm, love. You go and pack. I'll arrange for the flight and wake up Grace. It'll be okay."
Alfred nodded, and he managed a small smile. I think he felt relieved by my being there for him, even after our estranged relationship as of late. He took me back into his arms and kissed me in a way I hadn't felt in months. I welcomed it, parting my lips for his tongue and interlacing my fingers into his hair. It was brief, but the moment lasted far longer than that as it settled into our skin and reverberated within our bones.
It was the energy we needed as we boarded a plane to Boston with a very irritable pre-teen. And it was the only thing that kept us together as Alfred took my hand and we found mum crying in the hospital waiting room. Samuel Jones had died from a heart attack two hours before we had landed.
I watched as Alfred broke down in front of me for the second time since we had met; the first being when Matthew died. Both times, Alfred hadn't been there for either one of their deaths, but I had been there for the aftermath. I held Alfred as he cried, as he clung to me, knowing full well he wished it was his father he was holding. I wished the same for him. How I wanted to ease all of the stress from him.
He had a good reason to put distance between us, he had to have. And there was always stress from work. If this had been the holiday season I would have chalked up to the usual stress he had, but it was nearing the end of October. Right now, whatever I was feeling was put on hold. I could wait to ask Alfred later. He needed me right now, and I was more than happy to give myself to him.
Grace's thirteenth birthday was hard on all of us. It was the first birthday of hers without a phone call from her grandfather. Mum called and wished her happiness and promised there was a card in the mail with money for her. It did little to soothe Grace's teenaged angst. She still put distance between me and her, only relaxing while we were in Boston to help mum with the funeral and getting her back on her feet. During that time, I felt things would repair between me and my family, but it only severed the ties more.
I was coming to the end of my line. Whatever I did or didn't do, it wasn't enough for either Alfred or Grace. After dad's death, I tried to be there for Alfred, but I also wanted him to be more involved with me. I asked him to help around the flat a little more given how I now had a job and couldn't constantly be on the upkeep of the place. Not only that, but I had been asked to do a few more speeches for the LGBT community, so I was traveling again.
How different it was from when Grace was a child. When I called home to let them know I had made it safely, it was almost a lost cause. Grace didn't come to the phone, she didn't cry for me to come home soon, and she certainly didn't say she missed me. Alfred was even less receptive. One night they didn't even answer when I called home, despite the fact I was in Florida for two days.
I tried to wrap my mind around just what had happened, but nothing added up. There had been no fights to pinpoint any sudden change, and there certainly had been no confrontations to strike up any possible ideas that poisoned the mind.
In the end, I came home from my trip very angry. I felt threatened. There was something going on, and I had had enough. In the days that followed my trip, I met up with two friends I had made over the past few years; Lance and Juliet. Lance was openly gay and Juliet was a feminist. It was always interesting when we all got together.
The two noticed my mood change when we met up for lunch the Wednesday after I had returned from Florida.
"Girl, you look pissed," Lance said, slightly shocked. "What happened?"
I took my seat across from them and quickly ordered tea when the busboy dropped off my menu. I sighed and then explained to them everything that had happened, starting from my notice of Alfred's inattention, Grace's adolescent intolerance, dad's death, and my feeling of there being an inability for me to do anything. When I finished, I chugged the cool water on the table while I let my news sink it. In retrospect, it was rather harsh of me to dump so much on my friends so suddenly, but they didn't care. Unlike my family, they wanted to hear if something was wrong.
"Oh God, that's horrible!" Juliet put her hand on mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You do not deserve that."
"What is up with Al?" Lance crossed his arms as he frowned. He had met Alfred once before on a rare occasion Alfred joined me at one of my speeches. Lance liked Alfred, mainly for how handsome he is, but Alfred left feeling very uncomfortable from their meeting. It was odd that he didn't like someone. "I thought he worshipped you."
I snorted as I sipped at my now lukewarm tea. "He never did, but in any case, he's gone from loving to stone cold."
"Is it because of his father's death?" Juliet asked lightly.
"I've tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but this problem arose before then. If I had to pinpoint an exact time frame, I'd say it was years ago when he first brought up my 'unemployment'."
Juliet grimaced at this as if she had tasted something sour. "That was so wrong of him to do to you. So what if he has a 'real job'? For God's sake, if it wasn't for Hospital Flowers you two wouldn't have afforded all of the money for the apartment, Grace's baby things, and saving for her college fund. It's like when a husband gets angry his wife brings home more money than him, so he blames the wife, in this case, you."
I sighed again. "I know…"
"What ever the case is for Al actin' like a jerk, you need to be strong about it." Lance put his hand on my other hand. "It's totally obvious he doesn't trust you."
Juliet nodded vehemently. "Lance is right!"
"If that's the case…" I looked down at the two hands on top of mine and wished desperately they were the hands of my family instead. To come so close to having that happy atmosphere, I was scared of what the answer would be if I asked Alfred bluntly what was wrong if that meant this lifestyle would be violently ripped from me.
Of course, I had already watched it slowly disintegrate over the course of the past few years. What did it matter if it was an implosion?
Later on that day, I came home and collapsed on my bed. Lunch had emotionally drained me. Thoughts whirled in my head of assumptions about what the truth was. They then changed to memories of Grace when she was young. She loved to run away from me and have me chase her. It was constantly a game. If I didn't follow or she couldn't see me, she'd begin to cry. We could never be apart for too long.
My precious girl that I used to fear could be taken away from us. Where had she gone? She'd traded plush cats and butterflies for boys and make-up and social networks that inhibited her ability to actually be social. I had no idea what school was like for her, no clue what her grades were, or if she still liked to dance as she had when she was so young. That was more terrifying a thought than what drove Alfred away from me.
As my body drifted between the edge of sleep and conscious, I heard Alfred come home. He checked the bedroom first and found me lying on my stomach with my face in the pillow. I wanted to turn and say hello, but the heaviness of sleep prevented me from acting right away.
I heard him fumble with something on the nightstand, and then after a moment, I turned to acknowledge him. However, I froze when I saw him holding my mobile, reading it.
"Alfred?"
He nearly dropped the phone as he quickly put it back down, as if he had never picked it up in the first place. "Whoa, you're awake! I thought you were sleeping."
"What were you doing?" I turned fully around and sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you reading something?"
"What? No! Why would you think that?" He tried to laugh it off, but when I reached for my phone, he jumped to stop me. "Babe, it's fine! Just! Don't! C'mon, Arthur. Please?"
I ignored him and unlocked the screen. My text messages appeared on the screen. I stood up and stared at Alfred accusingly. "You were reading my messages! Why the bloody hell would you invade my privacy like that?!"
"I just! You know! I thought…"
"What?!" I snapped. "What did you think?!"
Alfred hesitated, staring at me uncertainly, before he dropped all pretenses and finally explained himself. "I just…thought you had a text message to meet someone somewhere…"
"You mean…for a meet up or something?" I asked slowly, fearing what he was insinuating. Oh God, please not that.
Alfred blushed and looked to the floor briefly. Then, he looked me right in the eyes and I knew him to be sincere. "No. I thought…like a lover or something."
At first I wanted to laugh, maybe even just chuckle or something to ease the tension in the room. All of this came down to his thinking I was cheating on him? That in and of itself should have been enough to make me laugh it all off and quell his fears as completely baseless, but there was no humor in this situation. It made sense now: why he was angry I traveled, why he didn't like some of my male friends, why he grew so cold to me. It was as Lance said, he didn't trust me.
The black hole I had felt just months earlier returned from my heart. It seeped up through my body, sucking out all of the color from my veins, and leaving me as a shell of who I was as I realized this was the end. If my husband couldn't trust me, then what kind of relationship was this?
Gripping the phone, I shoved Alfred aside. I had to get away from him. The anger consumed me until I couldn't speak. As luck would have it, however, Grace had decided to come home just then. She was blowing a bubble with her gum, had her headphones on, and was on her blasted iPod again, browsing her social sites. She didn't even care to say hello to me or look up. Seeing her disrespectful state made something in me snap.
"I have had it with this family!" I shouted. Alfred had followed me, and Grace looked up in surprise. I pointed first at Alfred, spitting all the venom I had in me right at him. "HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF AN AFFAIR YOU ARSEHOLE! I did everything you wanted of me! I went out and got a bloody job and made some fucking friends, and yet you're the one not fucking me or even touching me! How could you even THINK such a thing from me?!"
Alfred frowned. Briefly, he looked ready to start shouting back, but there was a flash of sadness in his eyes. He backed down. "Well… I saw that picture online…"
"What picture?!" I seethed.
Without saying a word, Grace held out her iPod to show me a photograph on the Internet. It was of me and some unknown man kissing. The quality was poor, and it was obvious there were two different light sources. The fact Alfred believed a photo from the Internet before consulting me about any of this sealed the deal on the pathetic reality of this situation.
"I cannot believe you!" I turned back to Alfred, snatching Grace's iPod from her hand. She yelped in surprise as it tugged her headphones off. Thrusting the screen into Alfred's face, I continued to yell. "How the hell could you put this photograph above our trust?! Why didn't you just ASK me?!"
Alfred rubbed his elbow as he shifted his weight. He was stalling. "I just… You know… I'm hardly home and all of these guys are hot…"
There, I began to laugh. "Oh ho, so it's my fault that I have hot friends? Were you not the one who told me to make them in the first place?"
"Yeah, but not hot and gay ones!"
"Don't you dare…" I started, backing away.
Alfred inhaled sharply. Then, he gripped me by the arms and shook me slightly. "DON'T I DARE WHAT?! ALL YOU DO IS COMMAND GRACE AND I AROUND LIKE WE'RE YOUR LITTLE SLAVES! You've always treated me this way! Holding it above my head that you wrote this amazing book and bring home tons of money-"
"Don't put me down for my success because you can't handle it!" I shouted back.
Grace had scuttled up against the wall. She had never heard us argue or raise our voices above that of scolding. To see us get so in each other's faces and shriek until our voices cracked scared her. She could only watch, unable to say anything in anyone's defense.
I threw my hands up in defeat, throwing Grace's iPod at Alfred's chest. "HERE! Take that and look up more fake pictures!"
Then, I turned to vent more on Grace. I missed the pale color to her face and her wide, watery eyes. "And YOU! You're a horrible, disrespectful, person! What happened to my little lady?! Why don't you look up and acknowledge the world for once?! Stop hiding away on the Internet! Do you really hate the fact we're gay that bloody much?!"
"ARTHUR!" Alfred bellowed.
"I can't stay here any longer!" I shouted.
That stopped everything. Alfred's shoulders fell with his bravado and Grace began to tear up in her corner. "What…?"
Alfred reached for me again, but just the sight of him disgusted me. I jerked away and headed for the door. I heard Alfred trail after me, but I turned sharply and pointed a finger right in his face.
"Don't you dare follow me! I don't want to see you! You're filth! To think, after all these years you said you loved me and you trusted me, and yet you never wanted to publically say we were married. This was all a lie!"
"No…"
"No, it was, Alfred! Think about it! You say you love me, that you're my hero, and yet you let some petty reasons control you to the point you won't trust me or touch me! So now it's come to this! I can't believe you! I don't even know you! I can't believe you just actually accused me…for the past few years… that I…"
I choked up. I wanted to keep up a strong and proud front, but I was crumbling. The more I said it, the louder it rang true in my ears.
"If you can't trust me, then you can't love me."
"N-no! That's not true!" Alfred tried, but I stopped him when I opened the door behind me.
"Without trust, there can't be love." I was crying now. It was shameful, and I felt ugly, but I had to leave. All of this was drowning me in more emotions than I could understand. The black hole had left, but now I was a torrent of emptiness that unleashed everything. I could not be stopped. "I have to go."
"No… No please, Arthur! ARTHUR, PLEASE, I LOVE YOU!"
But I was gone. I ran down the hallway, opted for the stairway, and tried to get down to the bottom floor before I collapsed, but I wasn't strong enough. On the second landing, I fell against the wall and started to cry. I pounded the hard wall, imagining it was that horrid, fake picture. My wrist began to hurt and my breath came out in short spurts. I had to keep it together.
Somehow I did as I drove to a hotel on the outskirts of the city and checked in for a single room. It would be like when I traveled, yes. That's what I told myself. Only, I had no bags, and I had no clear timeframe of how long I would be there. And I had no family to return to.
Alfred's betrayal was more than his stupidity of not communicating with me, but it was the fact he thought such a thing about me in the first place. He actually thought that I, a man that wrote of his love and constantly advised other homosexuals by using examples of our marriage, would actually sleep with someone else. That he didn't come to me in the first place struck right through my heart.
Here I thought someone would actually stay in my life, but Alfred was just like the rest. He disowned me.
I fell onto the bed in a heap of my own tears, and cried loudly into the pillow. I thought I might hyperventilate if I wasn't careful, although, at this point, nothing mattered. My shamble of a marriage, my ruined relationship with my daughter, and my future were all gone. At forty, I was on my own, again.
All the while, my mobile was constantly ringing. Why I didn't turn it off, I don't know. Perhaps it reassured me that Alfred was looking for me. He was trying to call me. There was hope in my heart that maybe he did still love me. But it was squashed the longer I lay there crying. I told myself to stop. Stop because he had long ago.
Then, the ringtone changed. That was Grace.
Quickly, I answered. She may have been crude these past few years, but the memory of what I had said to her before I left made me feel disgusting all over again. I should not have acted so wildly and said such untrue things. Rude or not, she was still my daughter, and I loved her, even if I knew she did not me.
I didn't say anything as I answered. I heard her sobbing on the other end. My heart clenched the last of my happiness out.
"Papa…?" she croaked. "Papa, where are you…? Are you hurt…? Where are you…? Please come home… Daddy left and I'm all alone and I don't know where you are and I'm sorry! Papa, please! I love you! I do! I don't hate you!"
"How can I believe you…?" I murmured. Numbness began to seep into my body much like it had before I started to fall asleep just an hour ago. Oh, how far away that seemed. "You… You don't trust me either…"
"No, that's not true!" Grace began crying harder. Her voice was louder and slightly muffled. I pictured her curled up in a ball under her bed sheets as she clutched her old baby giraffe. I shook my head to rid myself of the image. "No, I just… Please, papa… Please… Come home… I'm all alone."
"Why…?"
Grace cried harder for a few minutes and I waited. I hated hearing her cry, but I knew she needed this. I needed this.
Then, "I hate school… All I do…is get picked on… For having gay daddies… I just want to be happy… So I faked that I hated you guys… That I didn't like you two being gay. I told everyone you're bad parents and you fuck so loud I can hear you and that I'm grossed out by it… Everyone thinks because you're gay… I'm gay… But… I'm not…! I just…"
"Is that why you said those things on the bus that day…?" I asked slowly.
"Yes," Grace wept. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it! I miss you, papa! Please, come home. I want you to hold me like you used to."
Thinking of Grace alone did disturb me. She might be thirteen, but I hated thinking of her ever being alone. It was a thought all parents were haunted by.
"Stay there…"
"Papa?"
"I'm coming home."
The night was cold and brisk, but I ignored it. I hadn't grabbed a jacket and was still wearing my shorts from the earlier mildly warm day. I had really grown accustomed to Southern California weather. The apartment complex physically looked the same as when I had left, but to me, it now seemed darker. I almost turned to run back into my car, but I couldn't leave Grace when she was waiting.
I said such cruel things to her. She didn't deserve it. She was only a teenager.
The door was unlocked. I was deeply unnerved by this. Living in L.A. for all of these years, even in a "good" neighborhood like ours, I was still nervous of break-ins, especially when I knew my thirteen year old daughter was inside. But, then I thought that perhaps she had unlocked the door for me.
The flat was quiet when I entered. There was no sound of Grace crying or Alfred begging for me to come back. There was only the ringing in my ears echoing from my memories. I didn't even turn on the lights as I made my way to Grace's bedroom. She was in her bed, curled up, clutching the giraffe just as I pictured over the phone. She wasn't thirteen, but rather six years old, scared of monsters under the bed and crying for her daddies to comfort her.
My instincts took over as I rushed to her side. She flung herself onto me and curled up into a ball in my lap. I held her like she was a child once more. She shook in my arms, and I knew she still was. Somewhere in there, Grace was still the tiny baby I once rocked in a chair to sleep every night. If only I could hold onto this moment forever, I thought. I didn't need anything else. Or anyone.
"Is it my fault…?" Grace whimpered.
"What?" I stroked her hair.
"That you left… is it my fault…? I didn't know it was a fake… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Grace began to cry harder, much like I had in the hotel room shortly before she called. "Daddy fell on the ground when you left and cried and I felt… And then he ran after you. I didn't know where you went or where he is…"
"Shh," I soothed. I began rocking her gently. It was pitiful of me, but yes, I did find slight enjoyment at being able to calm my daughter in such a familiar way once again. "No, it wasn't your fault… I don't blame you… I'm sorry for yelling and saying such things to you."
"Then you won't be mad for this…?"
I heard the door close behind me, and froze. I didn't turn around, didn't even open my eyes. I pretended he wasn't there, but I felt eyes staring at my back and could hear him panting. He had run all the way back home.
"You told…?" I whispered.
"I'm sorry," Grace murmured. She let go of me and moved to get off of my lap.
I was left alone with anxiety creeping up my back. No one spoke first. No one wanted to. Where to start?
"I can't stay," I said finally, settling on an emotion that I picked from the many floating aimlessly around inside of me. "I just… I can't."
"Why?" Alfred asked. His voice croaked and he was still breathing heavily. Unlike with Grace, I couldn't imagine what he looked like right now. All I saw in my head were blue eyes that were, hopefully, struggling with tears.
"Because, I'm so tired. I'm… When it comes down to it, Alfred, you just want me here because it's convenient for you and Grace."
"That's not true!" Alfred yelled.
I tensed visibly, so Alfred sucked in his breath. He waited for a few moments before he spoke again. "No, that's not true. We love you."
"I'm nothing to you," I started with a faint voice. "And I feel so empty now… I've said everything I feel."
"Please, this is just…over a picture and… And I'm stupid. It's my fault."
I shook my head slowly. I still hadn't opened my eyes. "No... I'm at fault too… I pushed you both away by…being so clingy… I just… Don't blame just yourself…"
"Arthur, we can make this work."
"Not right now."
I stood and finally opened my eyes. I turned around to face the man I had lived with for fifteen years, shared my bed with, had my meals with, made love with, and shared my secrets with. And knew he had withheld his anger from me, withheld his love from me, and cast me aside so easily. He didn't look like the same man who had saved me from a burning car, wheeled me around L.A., brought me flowers, and declared naked days like it was a sport. He was older and carried more weight on his shoulders than I'd ever seen before. I felt a pang of guilt and regret because I knew I was hurting him, but he was hurting me too. It was mutual, and we had to be apart to heal before we could rip open the wounds again. If I even wanted that to happen, that is.
"Alfred, it's not about the picture, it's not about you and Grace hiding away, it's not even about the secret… It's about how we have whittled down to this. I have to physically be away from you and you have to conceal yourself from me. I will stay in a hotel and visit Grace when she wants to see me, but I cannot see you. I don't want to. You hurt."
Alfred looked pale, and I feared he might faint. He stood his ground, albeit a little unsteadily, but he nodded and didn't fight me anymore. I kissed Grace on the head and wiped her tears.
"It's better this way," I told her.
Then, I left.
"Girl, you still look terrible!" Lance commented. It had been four weeks since I moved out and took up residence in a hotel, claiming that there was sewer damage at my house so I could get a cheaper price for the length of time I'd be there. However, I still had no idea how long that would be. "I thought leaving Al would do you some good."
"It…has, but now with Prop 13 I'm running everywhere to fight for it to be abolished."
Juliet rolled her eyes as she sucked on her straw for her soda. "That Prop is as dumb as Prop 8 was. There's no way it'll pass this time."
"Not with Arthur Kirkland as the front spokesman for it! Although, I keep hearing people whisper that Al should be with you. Do you think anyone knows yet?"
I shrugged. Nancy and my PR agent knew of my separation with Alfred, but we all agreed that it was in the best interest of the family and others following me that they not notice anything. That didn't stop people from wondering why I looked different. It was evident that while I was slowly healing from all the emotional wounds, I wasn't happy with the outcome.
Over the course of a few weeks, I returned to the flat when I knew Alfred was at work to collect my things. I paused when I pulled my clothes from the closet, and gently touched Alfred's shirts. How would he feel when he came home that day and saw half of the closet was empty? I gulped down my heart as I moved to finish collecting my things.
Sometimes Grace was there and she would watch silently. I'd treat her to lunch if it was a weekend, or I'd leave her a note saying I still loved her. Once or twice I would check on the food to see what wasn't on the grocery list, and then put it on there. A few times I did their laundry and dusted. I'm not sure why, but it was habit by now. And, a small part of me felt guilt that I had been the one who left.
I could have stayed; slept on the couch and just avoided Alfred like he had me. It had been easy enough when it was him and Grace in her room. I could easily have done the same with my computer and possibly stayed in the bedroom until Alfred went to sleep. But I felt the air was too thick when I was close to Alfred.
There was still that initial tug at my heart to be close to him. I had to resist all the urges to take his hand, stroke his face, and tell him that everything would be all right. How was I to know what the outcome of this would be when I didn't even know myself?
Ever since I moved out I had changed. At first, I thought I'd revert to being a hermit again, but I found I was more active than ever. With protests and speeches and my normal work hours, I hardly had time to be sad. It normally came at night when I slept alone and realized I was really gone. That this was my new life.
Alfred tried to call me after two weeks, and asked if it was better. I told him I needed time. He stopped calling after that.
While I was at lunch with Juliet and Lance, I received the first call from him in weeks. "Oh…It's Alfred."
My heart beat hard in my chest. Was I nervous, excited, or scared? I hadn't heard his voice in so long, I worried that he was fading away from my memories too quickly.
"You gonna answer that?" Lance asked cautiously.
"I had better…" I moved from the table to find a quiet part of the café. I took a few deep breaths, and then answered. "…Hello?"
"...Hi."
I breathed out loudly. Too loudly. My face blushed in embarrassment. I was grateful Alfred couldn't see me. "Yes?"
"Um… I found some things of yours. Did you want to meet me somewhere so I can give it to you or do you want to…?" He sounded different, again. I couldn't place who it was he reminded me of at that moment.
"No, we can meet… How about at the park…?" Another bad memory added to that park. One more couldn't hurt.
"Okay… Are you busy right now?"
"Yes, but I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"…Okay. See you then." He hung up.
I stayed in my small spot for a little longer while I told myself to stay standing. I would not cry.
The seasons were changing and the summer season was fading fast. California had an adversity to four seasons, and really maneuvered around summer and winter, with a two or three week period of fall and spring. At the moment it was teetering on the edge of fall. I clutched my jacket close to my body as a chill wind swept through the air. Anything below sixty and I became a shivering mess. What happened to my thick English skin?
Alfred approached me with a bag in his hand. He was also sporting a jacket. We made eye contact, but said nothing. I remembered now, who it was he reminded me of. It was me. He looked so tired and his eyes were sunken in and there was a pale color to his skin that hadn't been there before. Like me, all of the color had left his veins and he was an empty shell. I saw that same expression every morning I looked in the mirror.
"Here," he said suddenly, breaking our contact. He held out the bag.
I took it and looked inside. It was a few books and my oven mitt and slippers that I guess had been pushed under our bed. They weren't important to me. I looked up at Alfred and thanked him.
"…Can we walk?" Alfred asked. He turned slightly to nod at the pathway that wound around the pond.
I hesitated. He meant "can we talk" and I didn't know if I was ready. Four weeks had been a long time to think about things, but it suddenly felt like it hadn't been. I didn't have my guard back up and my insides felt too raw to get upset about anything heavy. Still, I sort of fancied a walk/talk right about now.
I said nothing and began to follow the path, Alfred joining me by my side. We just enjoyed the breeze and the silence between us, but I noticed the distance more than anything. It was so prominent, so ugly, that I had to look at Alfred to distract me.
"How…is Grace?" I asked at length.
"Good… She's good…," Alfred replied with a nod. He was looking straight ahead and his eyes never wavered to look over at me. "Her grades are going up…"
I nodded, but said nothing again.
"I moved her." I looked over with furrowed eyebrows, stopping suddenly. Alfred stopped as well, and then looked at me with a defeated expression. It was as if we had quickly had a feud and he was already giving up, or apologizing. "You don't understand, Arthur. Things were bad there. She had to leave that school. She's happier at this one."
"Of course I wouldn't understand. I wasn't told anything." I bit my lip to stop myself, but it was too late. My snappy comeback hurt Alfred.
He turned to look at his feet and sighed. "I deserved that…"
"I'm sorry," I whispered, but I don't think Alfred heard me.
"She joined GSA. She said she wants to be like you now. She's joined as an Ally and is rallying against Prop 13… Like you."
Somehow that did little to make me feel better. I didn't want Grace to be involved in politics or any of the sorts. I preferred her to being the carefree, dancing starlit of the stage. "What of her dancing?"
"She still does it," Alfred said. "Just… she does both. She likes it. She said it makes her understand us more…"
"That's…good…"
Alfred started to walk again, and I followed. "I was promoted. I'm captain now."
Again, I stopped and stared. "What…? But what of Antonio…?"
"He's sergeant now. It's good I was promoted. More stable hours, better pay."
Had we been better, I would have congratulated Alfred. Possibly hugged him and kissed his cheek. I wanted to. But this was my life now. I was only to be a spectator in Alfred and Grace's life. This was what I had chosen. And, like I had told Grace so long ago, it was better this way.
Alfred reached into his jacket's pocket and pulled out a small business card. He studied it briefly, and then held it out to me. "Take this."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Just… We need help, Arthur. This will help us. Jaime recommended me to her."
"Counseling?" I asked. Alfred nodded. I wanted to laugh it off, but Alfred stopped me with that crushed expression.
"I'm not letting you go… One way or the other. If we're to stay friends…then fine… But I want you to be happy…"
I gulped, hoping for something wet in my mouth, but came up dry. I croaked, "I want…you to be happy too."
"I'm happy with you," Alfred started, but I shot a hand up to stop him.
"Don't. Don't put that on me."
"But... Okay. Sorry." Alfred stepped back, but he still held that card out to me. "We can't do this on our own. We tried and… We need help. I still…I do still love you. You may not think so, but I know I do. I know you do too. Why else would you leave those notes for Grace and always write at the bottom 'say hello to your father' or finish our grocery list? Why else would you… still fight for marriage equality…?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it. I didn't want to say anything more. I couldn't breathe. The tight and constricted feeling returned, and I had to get away. I was scared.
But I was more afraid of the sneak-peak of my future I had witnessed today; the outsider's view of a life I once lived. I wanted to watch Grace grow up, and I wanted to freely talk to Alfred and congratulate him, and I wanted to sleep beside him and push his hair behind his ear and kiss him and-
I took the card.
Hoshiko2's cents: I hope this chapter came out as well I wanted it to. This chapter means a lot to me, and went through several rewrites before I settled on an outcome I deemed good enough. Two chapters left. See you next week. Also, Hoyle Act 2 starts up this week. I hope to see you there.
(Prop 13 is fake and made-up, and by now the year is 2018 in the story, so from here on out, political and social issues are purely fictional.)