HOME | DD

Description
"You've been avoiding me," I accused.  The realization had come as such a shock because cowardice is in my blood, not his.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he countered. "I've been thinking of the right thing to say."

"Oh."  Which involves avoiding me, I thought to add.

"Bill, I didn't want to kiss you."

"--Oh."

"I don't mean it quite like that."

"I see."  Or I will, once I start breathing again.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" I frowned.

"Stop sulking and listen to me for a second."

"I've heard every word."

"I said," he paused, "listen to me."

"Fine."

I sat on the bed, crossed my arms, and stared through the carpet.  I was the picture of maturity. He began a few seconds later.

"I didn't want to kiss you until I was sure.  And it was a moment of weakness, and forgive me for it--I waited so long for you to say--but I realized something in the morning, when I really went back and thought about it."  He paused.  "Do you follow?"

"No, not really."

"Bill, I am always going to be your second best.  And before you run off indignant saying that isn't true, you need to hear me out.  Because you are always going to be my second best, and I need you to understand that.  I'm not looking for soul mates or once-in-a-lifetime.  I'm not asking after the love of my life.  I had all that.  And I miss it every day, and I don't need it again.  Those aren't the sort of feelings you can repeat.  But you--I care for you, and I see myself comfortably older with you, and content.  I love you in the best ways I can--don't you always say that?--the only ways I am capable of loving someone now, I think.   But you have to know that you're simply second best.

"I--oh."  What does one say to that, exactly?  I waited for him to continue.

"Now, you're an intelligent bloke..."

"Bloke?"

"Bugger off, Bill.  I'm older than you."  I couldn't help a smirk.  "Anyway, aye--you're a smart man, so I know you can understand what I'm saying.  I need you to know that I know I'm always going to be your second best, but I'm okay with that because, well--you are always going to be my second best.  The difference is that my first is dead and buried, and he's not coming back.  I'm not on some emotional yo-yo roller coaster..."

"Mixed metaphor much?"

"You are not making this any easier.  I am trying to be serious."

"I'm sorry."

"Bastard."  He frowned and started again.  "Your first, though--he's never going away.  And in a lot of ways, I can deal with that.  I'd never ask a man to walk away from a friend to spend his life with me.  But you're still holding out for him--and don't you goddamn deny it, and don't you interrupt again."  He stared me back to silence, as I was beginning quite the protest.

"How many letters did you write him this week that you're not going to send?  How many times did you check your fecking email just in case?  Aye, s'right.  Don't goddamn deny it.  You can't lie to me--I kissed you, after all."  That part was certainly true. "And that's what I mean by I didn't want to--why I didn't kiss you in the street."

Here, finally, he stopped pacing.

"I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be us--just us, finally, with all our baggage packed--as you like to say."  He was gathering his forces.  He was using my words against me.  "Which is why I'm going back to my original plan.  I can't erase last night, and I can't pretend I didn't kiss you, and I can't pretend I don't want to kiss you again right now.  All I can do is say 'No' and be done with it."  The battle had begun.

"I'm leaving in the morning, and I'm not coming back to you until you are ready.  And I'll wait--I can wait forever, because I never thought I'd have a chance like this again after Danny died--but I'm not going to stop living my life, either.  And when you figure it out, you come see me.  And I mean see me.  None of this internet bullshit phone call write me a letter pour-your-heart-out nonsense.  I mean you come look me in the eye and tell me you've left him for good."  I didn't have enough time to prepare a worthy defense, so I sat there and let him defeat me.  "Aye, all right.  Good.  Glad I got that out of my system."

I thought he was going to go that very minute, so I stood.  He put his hand out to stop me.  "I'm not leaving angry, so don't think I am.  I'm not leaving jealous or upset.  This is as much for me as it is for you.  I need you to know that I understand soul mates, Bill.  And I understand second best.  And I think you can be happy with either, if you make the most of your situation.  But once I give over to you, I can't be worrying that you're going to run off and leave me because there's no fighting first place.  I wouldn't hold it against you--I'd drop just about everything for a chance with Danny again, just a second, really--but it would break my heart.  And if I let you break my heart, then that's exactly what it is--me letting you.  That just won't do."

"I'm sorry."

"Goddamnit!  No one's asking for an apology.  I knew you were still in love with him when I got on that jet, but it didn't matter because I didn't expect to kiss you or take this anywhere, I just wanted to be with you.  Don't you get that?  I wanted to spend time with you because I missed being near you."  There it went: another crack in my chest.

"And when you head back to the States, I want you to go on that fucking date.  Don't give me that look, just go.  You need to get it all out of your system, you understand?  You need to remember what living is like and get him the fuck out of your system--relegate him to friendly and not the first man you update on your life or the first man you want to talk to when you have the time to talk.  You broke up, and it's damn well time you started acting like it.  This hanging on thing--it's for cowards who can't let go.  And with all your bitching that he never talks anymore or hasn't written or anything, I think you goddamn got your answer.  He's gone, so it's just you hung up on him.  He made his fucking break, he's just too nice to tell you.  Give the man some goddamn credit and some goddamn space.  So go date, and go out, and goddamnit, Bill, if you don't come see me someday, I'll never forgive you."

He was close enough to kiss.  I wondered if that's what should happen now--always seems to work in the movies, anyway.  But I just stood there.  "I love you," he finally said.  "I love you, and I am in love with you, but that doesn't mean I compromise who I am or how I feel for half a man's heart.  Once you figure out that he's gone and left you alone, and just your history is holding you together--and once you really goddamn understand that, deep down--you come see me."  He brushed his thumb across my lower lip and smiled something that broke my heart.  "Aye?"

"Okay."

"Good."  He clapped my cheek and got his coat.  "I knew you'd understand once I got it all out, eloquence aside."  He turned at the door and looked back, and I tried to manage a smile.  "You can add this to that chapter you're working on--that story of us you don't think I've read."  My jaw dropped.

"I--"  How embarrassing!  He laughed.

"What," he continued, "you think I don't read every goddamn thing you write?  You're the eejit who posts it on the internet, even if you do pretend it's fiction."  I blinked.  "Besides," he laughed, "I have all of your poetry."

"You rotten son of a bitch."  I smiled.  I knew I was red.

"It's a good story, Bill. Now it just needs the right ending."

"I never wrote about the poetry."

"Well, maybe you should."  He opened the door.  "Graim thú," he said to the woodwork.

And he never looked back.

Several Weeks of Soul-Searching Later

"Hello," I said.

"--Hello."  A curious pause.  "What are you doing here?"

"Do you have company?  You're awfully proprietary of that door."

"What?  Oh!  No, no--come in."  He stepped back, and I slipped inside.  I was trying very hard not to smile.

"I've come to visit."

"I see."  He looked past me before closing the door.  "You haven't any luggage."

"I didn't think I'd need much."

"Short visit, then?  Where're you staying?"

"Well, that all depends."

"Does it now."  It never evolved to a question.

"It does, indeed."

"Bill," he began while walking back to the kitchen, "you're infuriating.  Be out with it, would you?  I've a busy night."

"Hot date?"

"No.  We can't all be as lucky as you."

"Ouch.  Jealous much?  You did tell me to go out and date."

"I also told you to come back and see me."

"Well, here I am!"  He turned and took a step forward.  For a moment, I was certain he was going to hit me.

"Why are you here?"

"I've come to tell you that you're wrong."

"I'm wrong?"  Lawyers do not like to hear this.

"You're wrong--or, well, you were wrong."

"Was I."

"Yup."  It was still difficult to keep from smiling, so I simply gave in and offered a grin.

"Would you prefer that I hit you, or do you think you could manage to explain yourself in the next three minutes?"

"You are not my second best."

"I see."

"No, you don't.  So let's do some role reversal.  How-a-bout you sit down and let me finish, this time?"

"As you wish."  He spread out his hands, appeared much less than amused, and sat at his kitchen table.

"I have come to tell you that I love you."

"Have you."

"Could I please finish before you start working up a lecture?"

"Bossy one tonight, aren't you?"

"Get used to it."  He cocked a brow; I shrugged and waited for a sign to continue.  "Anyway, you are not my second best, because I am not a man that can settle--and no matter what you say about being content with what you have and where you are and who you're with, I can't abide by that.  I don't live that way.  When I love someone, it must be fully or not at all."  He waited.  "I will always love Joe, and if he needed me tomorrow I would probably drop everything and be there for him.  But I do not want a relationship with him anymore.  I do not want to be with him.  I am not in love with him like that.  And it took me a long time to be able to say this--to be able to admit it.  It took me a long time to realize that unconditional love is not compromised by what status you have in someone's life. I love him completely, and because of that he owns a part of my soul--the part I willingly gave to him--and I've no designs to take it back."

"This is supposed to be making me feel better?"

"Oh, would you just wait!" I sighed.  "And you say I'm the impatient one."

"That's because you are."

"Not tonight."

"There are exceptions to every ru--"

"Would you shut it for a second and let me finish?"  He nodded so I could proceed.  "I am not in love with him--not in the way that says I want to be with him.  I want him in my life, but I do not want to own him.  I want him to find happiness, and I'll help him towards it if ever I can, but I do not want to be the one who brings it to him.  I am not sure I ever did.  I wanted to be a part of his life--I feel connections with him that I have never felt with anyone else, and if this were a different time and place and we were different people with different stories, I am certain we would've found a way to work.  I think he is my soulmate, but in ways so much more profound than having a life partner or forcing an impossible relationship."  He was listening, but I could tell he wasn't sure.  "Tim, I am in love with you.  I have been for quite a while.  Passionately.  But I would never cheat, and I would never be disloyal, and there was no way I could even think of being with you--of pursuing anything with you--while I still felt an obligation to him.  And I felt a strong obligation to him."

"What are you trying to say, Bill?"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."  He didn't move, so I continued.  "I want to grow old with you.  I want to be the man you come home to, and I want you in my bed when I fall asleep at night."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."  I shifted my weight and kept on watching.  He looked at me for a very long time, stopped and started something he was trying to say, stood and paced the kitchen, and finally looked to me again.  I waited him out.

"How do I know, for sure, something won't change that'll have you running back to be with him--or just have you running at all?"

"You don't.  You won't.  All you have is my word."  He frowned.  "But either way, he would not take me back, and I am tired of running in circles.  We're different people.  We don't belong together.  He knows that, too, I'm sure."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't concern me."

"We're over, Tim.  We really are.  We are, finally, exactly what we can be to one another, with no pretense and no excuses--no long explanations or emotional outbursts or prolonged misery.  He is my best friend, even if he is not my everyday friend--even if he doesn't realize it--and he is and will remain a priority in my life for that reason alone."

"And me?"

"You are my life." I swallowed.  "I mean--I want you to be my life."

"Why didn't you pack a bag?"

"I wasn't sure you'd let me stay. Plus, I have to leave in the morning.  Election Day!--and I have to be in Chicago on Thursday."

Finally--finally--he laughed.  "Bill, you are such a goddamned eejit."

"Do you still love me?"

"Aye."

"Do you still want me?"

"Aye."

"Can I stay?"

The kiss said it all.