"Man, that's gay. I'm sorry."
I suppress the sudden and aggressive cringe. I know that that was a saying in the nineties, before people were encouraged to be more inclusive, but it still stings. "Gay" being a synonym of "bad" still feels like rubbing at an old wound. I don't reply. I'm afraid they'll be able to read how "gay" I am all over my face.
I try to make an apologetic face as I leave, but it feels more like a grimace, even to myself. My heart races as I retreat back to my cubicle.
I drag my finger between my neck and collar, desperate to loosen some of this pressure and breathe easier. Logically, I know it's just internalized prejudice, but I don't know how to push past it. I have no prejudice against gay men, but being gay myself still feels so wrong. I've had this alpha-male, football player misogyny pushed on me from when I was old enough to walk. From family, from friends, from society. Gay men don't play sports. Gay men can't be aggressive. My parents still don't know why Lindsey and I divorced.
Together, we agreed it was better to simply say that we were better off as friends than partners. It's not a lie. I'm just not sure I can look my father in the eye and admit that I'm gay. I already know he won't take it well. His entire personality is based onalmost a caricature of what a 'man' should be. Think of if Tom Selleck had a baby with Hulk Hogan.
I breathe in through my nose, willing my heart rate to slow as I sip my coffee. It tastes more bitter than it should. Would it really be the end of the world if I told my coworkers? Would it be the end of the world if my parents knew?
Maybe. Regardless. I know this thing we have right now is fragile, and I'm not ready to upend my entire life for something that may fizzle out and die before it really even becomes anything.
I log back into my computer and force myself to focus on the numbers.
And to stop thinking about my next time with Trey.
Chapter ten
Trey
Next Friday, Jamie hosts Poker Night at his house with Frank and Harry, two of Eve's former clients. Frank is a tall, broad black man who hired Eve to practice reading out loud to, to help build his confidence because he was an adult and practically illiterate. She would happily listen to him read to her during their sessions together, until she stopped accepting payment for it and just hung out as friends. Similarly, Harry was a lonely widower who would hire Eve to spend time with him after his wife passed and he missed her companionship. He was also fired as a client and became a dear friend, and joined our little mismatched group.
Every other Friday, we get together for Poker Night and to catch up on each other's lives.
Harry doesn’t drink, but Jamie, Frank, and Eve all have beer bottles sitting next to them on the poker table. Conversation and friendly banter flow easily, but I'm struggling to stay in the moment. I can't stop my mind from thinking about Gareth.
He admitted to not having any real friends except for some work acquaintances, since his life before the divorce was allabout his wife, kids, and work. I wonder if he wouldn't want to join us for a Poker Night. This crew wouldn't judge him if he came out to them. They wouldn't care at all. They know I'm gay, and it's never even come up as a topic.
Then, I wonder what he's doing tonight. Is he alone in his apartment? Out on a date? With his kids?
I pull my phone out to see if I have any new text messages from him, but see that my phone is blank.
"Trey?" Eve asks, and I blink back to the present. She's looking at me expectantly, as if she had asked me a question already and I didn't hear it.
"Yeah?"
"I asked you how work was going," she replies, raising an eyebrow at me.
"It's good..." I reply lamely. Eve's an expert at reading people, though, and she can see through my deflection easily and doesn't change the subject, challenging me to elaborate.
"Remember that client I mentioned the other day?”
Her eyes light up at the same time that Jamie studies me warily.
I look down at my cards, avoiding their gazes. Even though I know they’re not going to let it go.
But I'm surprised when it's Frank who speaks up. "Are you being safe?"
My head shoots up to see concern on his handsome face. "Yes. It was..." I trail off, thinking of how I can explain our first session. "...nice." I finish lamely. Nice doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of our night together.
I drop my eyes back to my cards, but when silence follows heavily, I look back up to see four sets of eyes on me, waiting patiently.
I set my cards face down onto the felt.
Sighing, I verbally dump on them without a filter. "It was actually really awesome. He was sweet and vulnerable and hot..."
Eve's slow smile is wicked and indulgent. "...sweet and vulnerable and hot..."