“I’m nervous,” I said to Sam, as he drove through heavy traffic Wednesday morning.
“You’ll be fine. Doc says she’s the best and you should trust her,” replied Sam, deftly weaving past a car driven by a lady applying makeup in her rearview mirror. Some people have a death wish.
“But what if I have another attack?” I whined.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed, keeping his eyes on the road. “You won’t. And I’ll be right outside, okay. You can do this, little man. I have confidence in you.”
“That makes one of us.”
He gave me a thin smile and a quick nod, then released my hand and slammed on the brakes as traffic came to another complete stop. He sighed and relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
We were both more uptight than we cared to admit. I’d had a rough night, after two wonderful days with Sam, just relaxing at home. We swam in the pool and horsed around, then laid out under the sun and read books, basking in the late summer heat.
Last night, Sam grilled steaks and I made a huge salad and we ate out on the deck, playing footsie under the table as we listened to birds calling and watched squirrels dashing from tree to tree, collecting their winter stores. All in all, Sam’s operation Rest and Relaxation was a resounding success.
Which made last night’s anxiety attack so frustrating.
We were getting ready for bed. I was brushing my teeth and accidentally dropped the cap to the toothpaste on the counter. It bounced and fell into the wastebasket next to the double vanity. I bent over to dig it out and hit my temple on the edge of the counter.
Sam heard me swear and came running naked into the bathroom. I don’t remember how I got there, but he found me sitting next to the toilet, tears running down my face, shaking uncontrollably. He rocked me in his arms until I finally calmed down enough to be led to bed.
After a restless sleep, I was cranky and fretful, with an annoying headache three Tylenol had so far not touched. And underneath ran an angry undercurrent I couldn’t source clearly. All I knew for sure was Dr. Margolis had her work cut out for her.
Parking at the University Medical Center was a challenge, which only added to the tension. The multi-level parking garage next to the towering hospital complex had very few spots large enough to accommodate Sam’s truck. He deftly maneuvered up the spiral ramp to higher floors, only to find no open spaces.
The low ceilings didn’t help. Sam had to be careful to not scrape the truck roof on the concrete support girders as we searched in vain for a spot. I was ready to throw in the towel and go home when we finally broke free of the dizzying spiral ramp and onto the rooftop level. Sunshine and open parking spaces. I breathed a sigh of relief.
In a flash I saw the whole parking thing as a metaphor for my life. Searching and searching for acceptance, but never quite fitting in. Going round and round in an exhausting attempt to belong somewhere, anywhere, only to be told we don’t want you here. Go away.
And then I found Sam and the place I was meant to be. My light in an otherwise dark world that wanted no part of me.
Sam turned off the rumbling engine and squeezed my hand. He looked at me with such a deep love in his eyes, it took my breath away. Such a simple thing, but it was everything to me. I closed my eyes as he gently stroked my cheek and wished I could hide out with Sam on the roof of a parking garage for the rest of my life.
“Ready?” he asked.
“What’s she gonna do to me?” I said, looking into Sam’s eyes for answers I couldn’t see.
Sam fought back a smile. “My guess is she’ll ask you questions and you’ll answer them. Something like that.”
“How’s that gonna help?”
“Only one way to find out,” he said, squeezing my hand again.
I looked at him, and his radiant blue eyes searched mine, concern etched across his brow. I focused on breathing in and out. He broke his gaze to glance at the clock on the dash.
“Time to go,” he said. I sighed and nodded. I flashed to a thought of JP having to do this all alone. At least I had Sam. I could do this.
Sam locked his truck and took my hand. Walking across the sandy asphalt toward the elevators, I realized Ben wasn’t with us.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked, shielding my eyes and scanning the lot for a large black SUV. I spotted it rising slowly from the ramp, like a huge bug climbing out of the ground into the sunshine.
“There he is,” said Sam, pointing.
I leaned on his shoulder, while we waited for Ben. Sam released my hand and put his on the small of my back. My nerves immediately settled. It’s the little things.
“I love you, Sam.”
“Love you back, Jack.”
“You’ll stay close?”
“Forever.”
A flustered Ben approached with a scowl across his face, adjusting his summer jacket over the shoulder rig where he kept his handgun. “I don’t like this. Feels like a trap. No easy exit. I’m gonna have the vehicles moved to the street level.”
“My whole life feels like a trap,” I thought to myself.
We rode the parking elevators down to the third level and walked through the glass-enclosed crossbridge into the Doctor’s Building. On the large screens listing doctor’s names and specialties, Sam found Phyllis Margolis and her office on the sixth floor. He grabbed my hand and led us to yet another set of elevators.
Stepping off into a carpeted hallway with subdued gray wallpaper and dark green potted plants, I noticed my hands were shaking. Sam noticed, too. Glancing around, he saw an alcove and pulled me after him. Ben took up a post a little further down the hallway, to give us some space.
Partially secluded, Sam wrapped me up in his arms. I buried my face in his chest and tried not to cry. I was so scared.
“Please don’t ever let me go,” I whispered.
Sam tightened his hold. “I won’t. You’re mine, little man.”
He held me close for another minute or so, his face resting against my head. Being in Sam’s arms was my safe place, and like so many times before, my heart rate and breathing settled. Sensing my tension waning, Sam relaxed his hold a little and leaned back.
“Jack?” He asked gently, lifting my chin so I could look into his eyes. They sparkled with blue fire and passion, and today there was something else I couldn’t name.
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t know what you guys are gonna talk about today, but know this — no matter how many people in your past have acted like you don’t matter or you’re not important, you matter to me. You’re everything to me, and I want you — I want to know you and do life with you, just you and me, together. You ARE wanted, Jack. Forever.”
Tears welled up and I nodded.
“You can do this. You can do hard things. You’re strong enough. And I’ve always got your back.”
I opened my mouth, but the lump in my throat prevented all speech, so I just kept nodding.
“You ready?”
I swallowed hard, took a deep break, and wiped away a final tear.
“Do it afraid,” I whispered, hoping my heart and fragile mind were listening.
I don’t know exactly what I expected, but Dr. Phyllis Margolis was not it. No sooner had Sam and I stepped into the small waiting room off the hallway, this very short, very thin woman with round wire-rimmed silver glasses and short, silver gray hair stepped out of her office into the waiting area. She appeared almost childlike, despite the diplomas for advanced degrees proudly displayed on the wall.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling. “Which one of you is Jack Schaeffer?”
I raised my left hand briefly. She smiled a little brighter.
“Right. Well, let’s get to it, shall we?” She turned and motioned for me to follow. I glanced at Sam and he nodded once. Resigned, I went through the door she held open, leaving him behind.
Like the doctor, her office was small. The decor, if you could call it that, was simple. Just a standard wooden desk — no computer screen, no keyboard, with an old-school phone set and a stack of manila folders resting at one corner. Dr. Margolis pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and swept a hand toward the seating area on the other side of the room.
I chose to sit in one of the plush upholstered chairs. She sat in the other, opposite me. A low, gold-metal-framed coffee table separated us. To my left, against the wall, was a matching three cushioned sofa. I wasn’t going there.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. You came highly recommended by Dr. Swanson.”
She smiled. “Eugene and I go way back. When he calls, I tend to listen,” she said, folding her hands on her lap. No notebook, no tape recorder. How was she supposed to take notes? Wasn’t that a thing with shrinks?
“I reviewed the intake form I asked you to fill out,” she continued. “I have a vague idea of what you have been experiencing, but I would like to know more. So, Jack, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, and why you are here.”
She sat back, raising her hands to a point under her chin, and focused on my face. “And before you start, I encourage you to not sugar coat or try to hide from unpleasant things. This is a safe place, and I assure you, I am on your side.”
I looked out the window behind her head, swallowed hard, and came up blank.
“Uh…where would you like me to start?”
She smiled, relaxing and dropping her hands back into her lap. “Wherever you’d like.”
So, she wasn’t going to help. Fine, I might as well start at the bottom.
“I’m gay.” I waited for the shocked reaction, but none came. Her expression didn’t change. She still had a thin smile and eager eyes, studying me across the table.
I sank back in my chair, totally lost. If my being gay meant nothing, then why was I here?
We stared at each other for a full minute, the silence growing more uncomfortable by the second. I glanced at the door a couple of times, trying to decide if I should just leave. But I kept hearing JP’s voice in my head whispering, “Do it afraid, do it afraid.”
Ugh. Sometimes I wished Amanda had never shared that little piece of wisdom.
Finally Dr. Margolis took mercy on me and broke the silence.
“I must say, Jack, you are something of a first. Most patients who come to me are eager to tell their story in great detail. I now know exactly one thing about you.” She grinned.
Of course. Lucky me, I’m the weird, totally not normal one. I just nodded, fighting hard to not throw up.
“Tell me,” she continued. “Why did you choose that one fact above all others?”
I gazed past her face to the window behind her. I could see the mountains in the far distance, like impenetrable sentinels surrounding and protecting me. But they were also cold and impersonal, and very far away. What I really wanted was Sam sitting next to me, yet I also knew I needed to do this by myself.
With a deep sigh, I looked at Dr. Margolis and said, “I figure that’s why I’m so screwed up.”
She made a face. “Let’s not use that word, okay? You obviously have some challenges to deal with, but you are far from ‘screwed up’. Why do you think being gay is the source of your problems?”
For some reason, that set me off. What planet did she live on? I leaned forward, hands closing into tight fists. “Isn’t it obvious? People don’t like me. My father left when I was little. My brother can’t stand to be in the same room with me. My mother all but told me if I came out, she’d disown me. The rest of the family is a lost cause. In their eyes, being gay is unacceptable and intolerable.”
“But guess what?” I said, throwing my hands in the air and dropping them on the arms of the chair. “I can’t change it. If I could, I would have — I think.” I shook my head, suddenly very aware that if I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t be with Sam, which would be terrible.
Frustration overflowed. “Look…I didn’t choose this. It’s just…ugh…it is what it is! So there, now you know I come from a dysfunctional home. And yeah, I’m most definitely screwed, however you want to say it.”
I flopped back in the chair and seethed, making no effort to calm down. Dr. Margolis just looked at me. I felt like an insect under a microscope. I squirmed a little and looked away, feeling some of my frustration fade away.
“When did you come out to your family?” she finally asked.
The question stunned me. I looked down at the clenched hands in my lap and fought back sudden tears. “Never,” I whispered.
More silence. More tears.
I was sick of it. I was so over being reduced to an embarrassing, sniveling mess at the mere mention of my so-called family. Enough was enough.
I reached for a tissue from the box conveniently located at arms reach. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. Steeling my resolve, I stared down the good doctor. She didn’t fold under my withering gaze.
“How long have you known you’re gay?” she asked calmly.
“Known, or accepted it as fact?” I answered.
“Let’s start with known.”
“Since I was thirteen or so, I guess. I knew I wasn’t attracted to girls, and guys scared the crap out of me, so I never acted on it. But all my teenage fantasies were about other boys.”
“And have you ever acted on it, as you say?”
“Yes. He’s right outside the door,” I said, sitting up straighter.
She hesitated for a split second, then asked, “Is he your first?”
I managed a fleeting grin. “First, and hopefully last. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She nodded. “So, are you saying you’re okay with being gay?”
I thought about my answer before responding. “Yes, I am okay with being gay, for the most part, anyway. But it’s a very new thing for me. I never said the words out loud until a few months ago.”
Her eyes widened. “So you have come out to other people, just not your family?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“You live alone?”
“No, with Sam. And Maggie and Charles. They take care of our house for us.”
Her raised eyebrows opened the door, and for the next twenty minutes I rattled off an abbreviated version of recent events, including my inheritance, falling in love with Sam, and launching my business. I ended with our plans to move to St. Louis and start school in a few weeks.
I smiled as I spoke, happy to relive the high points of the past few months. Overall, I loved my new life with Sam, and I needed Dr. Margolis to understand that.
When I stopped, I saw her glance at her watch. She nodded to herself and looked back at me.
“It sounds like you’ve experienced a lot of positive change recently. You’ve chosen to accept your sexual identity. You have a new relationship, a new home, a new business, and a new future. It sounds wonderful.”
“It is,” I replied.
“So tell me, Jack, why did you start out by saying you were screwed up because you’re gay?”
The sound of wind rushing out of my sails was deafening. I looked down at my hands again, thinking about the question. On the one hand, my current life as a gay man really was wonderful, for the most part. On the other, my old life, with all its secrets, was still lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
I sighed deeply and looked at her. “Because it cost me everything that was supposed to be important to me.”
She paused, then said, “Supposed to be?”
“Well…yeah. Isn’t your family supposed to be, like, the most important thing in your life? Mine pretty much abandoned me, and I was left with no one, all because I’m gay.”
Another pause, then she said, “But you never told them you’re gay, so…”
“You mean, if I didn’t say it, how do they know?”
She nodded.
“Why else would they not want me?”
She waited. More silence. There was no other reason…was there? Then I remembered a conversation with Sam.
“A few weeks ago, we were packing to go see Sam’s family for the first time. I was scared, and as much as Sam really wanted me to meet them, I was convinced it was a bad idea.”
“Why would it have been a bad thing for you?”
I paused, remembering the meltdown that had Sam kneeling at my feet.
“I guess I was fixated on the fear that Sam would eventually leave me, like everyone else I’ve ever loved has. It seemed…I don’t know…selfish, maybe, to drag his family into the inevitable breakup. I told him we should scrap the trip and he should just leave me now, rather than drag it out.”
Her eyes widened. “What did Sam do?”
“Got pissed at me and demanded I tell him why I felt that way. I thought once he understood my family history, he would understand.”
“And did he leave?” she asked gently.
My eyes welled up as I shook my head. “He refused. Told me I was being ridiculous. He says their leaving me was more about them, not me. I don’t know if I buy his reasoning, but he’s not often wrong about stuff like that. And I’m glad he didn’t listen to me.”
She nodded. “So let’s explore that for a few minutes. What do you think he meant when he said they left for reasons other than about you?”
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, gathering my thoughts.
“My father left when I was very young. I haven’t seen him since. We never got along well. From what I remember, he was always…I don’t know, restless…dissatisfied. Nothing any of us did was ever right. I never even got to say goodbye,” I whispered.
Suddenly I had tears welling up again, and for a man I hadn’t thought much about for most of my life. Crap. Therapy sucks.
I grabbed another tissue and stabbed at my eyes. “Can we be done? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
I waited for a reprieve. None came.
“One more question,” she said gently. “And you don’t have to answer it today. Just think about it, and we’ll discuss it next time.”
I nodded, knowing I didn’t have to come back until Monday. Thank god we had Sam’s family coming tomorrow, so I had a legitimate excuse to need Friday off from this madness.
Dr. Margolis leaned in, two fingers peaked under her chin again. “You told me you’re moving soon, back to St. Louis, correct?”
I nodded.
“So I want you to consider why that impending move might be a partial cause of your anxiety attacks.”
I stared at her. “Do I have to? I don’t really like thinking about my family. It hurts, and it never leads to anything good. I have a new family now, with Sam and my team. I have zero intentions of visiting anyone in my former so-called family, even if they do live just across the river.” My voice hitched higher as the frustration got to me. “Seriously! What would be the point? They don’t want anything to do with me.”
Ignoring my outburst, she just nodded. “Just…think about it, if you can.”
She stood up, indicating our session was over. I sighed in relief and stood, aware of the tight tension in my body. Dr. Margolis walked around her desk, leaving me standing alone.
“How does this work? Do I pay you now?” I asked.
She looked up at me with a smile. “My accounting service will send you a bill. Have a great weekend, Jack, and try not to over analyze our conversation today. This is a process, and it will take some time.”
“How long do you think it will take you to fix me?” I asked.
She grinned. “I’m not here to ‘fix’ you, Jack. You’re going to do the hard work yourself. In time, I’m confident you’ll learn how to deal with the stress and anxiety in your life in smarter ways. Will I see you on Monday?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now…go home, and do something fun today.”
“Okay,” I said, turning to leave.
“Jack?”
I turned back. “Yes?”
“You did good today. You can do this. I’ll see you Monday morning at ten.”
“Thank you. Have a good weekend,” I replied.
She nodded, reaching for a notepad. I told myself I didn’t want to know what she would write about me, but I knew that was a lie.
I collected Sam from the waiting room and walked out into the hallway.
“How’d it go?” he asked, reaching for my hand. I pulled him into the little alcove and turned to face him. I started to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I buried my face in his chest and focused on breathing.
He did what he’s so good at — he loved me, the way I needed to be loved in that moment. He put his big strong arms around me and held me tight, letting the silence do all the talking.
When I felt calmer, I pushed back and looked up at his face. “Thank you.”
His blue eyes still held the unanswered questions. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I am. I like her. It was…hard…but she was nice to me. I have to come back three times a week though. That bites.”
Sam rested his forehead against mine and looked deeper into my eyes. “Whatever it takes, right?”
“Whatever it takes.” Somehow that didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Ben walked past and stopped, not wanting to intrude.
“It’s okay, we’re ready to go,” I said.
He nodded. “We’re off the lobby downstairs. This way.”
Sam and I followed Ben to the elevators and down to street level. Ben handed Sam the keys to his truck, and he led me through the revolving doors out onto the sidewalk and the sunshine.
Climbing into the truck, I turned to Sam and said, “Dr. Margolis told me to do something fun today, and I know exactly what I want to do.”
He dropped his sunglasses down his nose and gave me an eager grin. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll tell you once we’re home and I get you naked.”
He smiled, pushed his sunglasses back in place, and put the truck in gear. “I like the sound of that.”
At breakfast the next morning, Sam was large and in charge. His family was coming, and he was leaving nothing to chance as he barked out questions.
“Yes, Sam, all the shopping is done,” said Maggie, slipping another four pancakes off the griddle on the stove and onto a platter already piled high.
“Awesome. Charles, did you charge up the batteries in the two-way radios?” he asked.
Charles grinned into his coffee mug. “All charged and ready to go. And before you ask, I had my friend Harvey pick up two packs of live bait at his favorite tackle shop. They’re in the garage, the cabinet on the end by the fridge.”
“Ewww,” I said, dropping my fork and pushing my plate back. I suddenly had no appetite. Sam smiled across the table at me.
“What time is your family arriving?” asked Maggie, placing the platter of pancakes in front of Sam. His eyes widened with pure joy as he started piling a large stack on his plate.
“Jack and I are picking them up at the airport around eight. They’ll have dinner on the plane.”
“Well, their rooms are ready. I put your parents in the larger guest room upstairs. Your sister and husband are down the hall, and the boys can stay downstairs in one of the basement rooms.”
“Someone could stay in my place, if you need the room,” said Ben, appearing in the doorway. He reached for a coffee mug from the cabinet next to the stove and poured a cup from the machine.
“Thanks, Ben,” said Sam. “But I think we’re fine. The boy’s will love being in the basement.”
“Any bacon left?” asked Ben, sitting next to me at the table.
Maggie pulled a plate from the warming oven and brought it to Ben. “I saved this for you,” she said. It was indeed filled with Ben’s favorites — scrambled eggs and a pile of crispy bacon.
Ben grinned. “Thank you, Maggie.”
Sam reached for a slice of his bacon and Ben grabbed his wrist. “Mine,” he said with a serious smile. Sam grinned and pulled his hand back. Ben sat back, and while his hands were occupied with opening a napkin, Sam snatched a piece of bacon.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? How old are you?” said Ben. Sam stuck his tongue out at Ben.
“Boys…play nice,” said Maggie from the kitchen sink, without even turning her head.
Sam winked at me and Ben looked at me exasperated.
“How do you put up with him?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “He has his good points. Just not at the table. Sam, give Ben his bacon back.”
Sam shoved it into his mouth and chewed with a huge smile.
“Okay,” said Ben. “I see how this is gonna go. It’s on,” he said, pointing a fork at Sam with a grin. “You better plan on sleeping with one eye open up there in the woods.”
“Uh…keep me out of it, okay?” I said.
“No can do, Jack.”
“But I didn’t take your bacon, he did.”
Ben shrugged. “Collateral damage.”
“What?!”
“Happy camping, boys,” Ben said, laughing. Charles chuckled at the other end of the table. Great, it wasn’t bad enough I had to go camping in the first place. Now I had to worry about whatever payback Ben had in store.
Thankfully there was no further escalation over the breakfast table. I helped Maggie clean up while Sam went over plans for the weekend with Ben and Charles.
“I must say, I thought you’d be a bundle of nerves with Sam’s family coming and all,” said Maggie, handing me a platter to dry.
I nodded. “I would be, but I’m not the one planning things. That’s all Sam. All I have to do is not get eaten by a bear. How fast do you think they run?”
She smiled. “Don’t be silly. My guess is with two young boys with you, they’ll be making so much noise, no bear is gonna come near you guys. Besides, we haven’t seen a bear up on this mountain in years. Too much development in the area.”
“Huh, I thought Sam said he saw one. I hope you’re right, because if I do see one, I’ll have my bags packed just as soon as I can outrun the thing.”
She bumped my shoulder with hers, laughing, and we finished the dishes.
“Why do we have to put this up again?” I whined, trying to sort out the various tent pegs I had spilled out of the nylon bag onto the front lawn. I squinted as sweat dripped into my left eye.
Sam, ever patient with me, said, “Because, we need to air them out a little, get the plastic smell out of ‘em. And I want to make sure we know how to put them up properly before we try it in the woods. Hand me those rods over there.”
I handed him what he had pointed to. I tried to follow what he was doing, but I wasn’t much help.
“Are you paying attention? Because you’re going to put our tent up all by yourself.”
“Hope you like sleeping under the stars, then.”
Sam laughed and kept inserting lengths of rods into each other, until he had two much longer ones. Together we slid them through a collection of loops diagonally across the top of the tent laying flat on the ground.
“Ready? When I say go, put the end of the rod in the pocket at the corner.”
I nodded, and he said, “Go.”
His went right in, of course. I struggled for a couple of seconds with mine, until I figured out the entire rod now flexed in a giant curve, lifting the middle of the tent off the ground. I finally managed to stick my end of the rod into the pocket where it belonged, and suddenly the tent came to life. We made quick work of the second rod — Sam let me put my end in first — and the tent was now standing proud in the front yard.
“Wow. That’s so cool. But what are these stakes for?” I asked.
“We use those to anchor it so it won’t blow over when no one’s inside. We won’t bother with that right now.”
I shrugged and put them back in the bag. Sam opened the box with our tent and started unfolding it on the ground.
“Okay, your turn,” he said, standing back.
I took a few minutes to read the setup instructions. It looked like it worked in a similar fashion to the first tent. I put the rods together, as Sam had done, and crossed them over the top of the tent.
“Looking good, Jack. You’ve got this.”
I smiled at him. As much as I really didn’t want to go into the woods, I loved how animated and excited Sam was to be doing this, and doing it with me. Undaunted by my childish attitude, he just kept encouraging me. It was working.
I put one end of the first rod into the pocket at the corner, then I walked around to the other end. Using every bit of strength I could muster, I somehow managed to bend the rod just enough to sneak the end into the pocket. Bam! The tent was half erected.
I did the same with the other rod, and this one was a little easier. Standing back, I grinned at what I’d done. I set up a tent, all by myself! Holy crap!
Sam walked over to me, all smiles and blue eyes blazing in the bright sunlight. “Nicely done, little man.”
“Thank you. It was easier than the other one, because it’s smaller.”
“But still big enough for you and me, eh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
I blushed. “We can’t have sex in that thing, Sam. What if it collapses on top of us while we’re…you know?”
He laughed. “It won’t collapse. And no one will know what we’re doing in there. That is, if you can keep quiet. Should I bring some duct tape for your mouth?”
My knees nearly buckled with the sudden rush of blood south.
“Don’t tease me,” I whispered. His eyes registered surprise, then he nodded once.
“I won’t embarrass you, little man. I promise.”
I pressed my cheek to his chest. “Thank you.”
I didn’t let on that I was secretly more than a little excited at the thought of sex in a tent with Sam.
Sam called a break and suggested I check in at the office. I wasn’t the least bit curious, and said so.
“Why call? Clearly they don’t need me,” I said, chugging a cold water bottle from the kitchen fridge. Sam frowned and kept drinking his water.
“Seriously, Sam, what’s the point? If Todd or Margie needs me, they know how to find me.” I turned to throw my empty water bottle in the recycling container under the sink. When I spun back around, Sam was still frowning, deep in thought.
“What?” I asked.
He sighed. “Tell me why you really don’t want to call her.”
My bottom lip started quivering, and before any tears could fall, I stormed past the kitchen table and out onto the deck. I leaned over the wooden railing toward the trees almost within arms reach and inhaled as much fresh air as I could get into my lungs.
Of course, Sam was right behind me. He rested his hands on the railing next to me, waiting patiently.
“I can’t, Sam. I’m sorry, I can’t handle it all right now,” I whispered.
He put a hand on the small of my back. “It’s okay, I understand,” he said.
“Please don’t make me call her.”
“I’m not.” He let out a breath very slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you. I asked you to give me three days to help you relax and disconnect, and you did. I just thought you might want to call in now. To be honest, I was surprised you didn’t call Margie first thing this morning.”
“I didn’t even think of it, until you said I should. The very thought has me freaking out. What the hell’s the matter with me?” I bent my head down and pushed my hips back in an attempt to breathe easier. Sam’s hand never left my back.
“You’re okay, little man. And you don’t have to call the office. You’re right, if they need you, they’ll call. I’m sure they have everything under control.”
“I’m letting them down, aren’t I,” I whispered. Why was everything so hard and confusing?
“Shhh,” he said, rubbing his hand on my back and scooting closer, until his lips were brushing my ear. “Listen to me. You aren’t letting anyone down. You’re getting yourself into a stronger position so you can help more people. But you have to help yourself first. It’s like the oxygen mask on a plane. They tell you to put your own on first, before assisting other passengers, right?”
I nodded. Breathing for myself was still a little tough, so yeah, I was in no condition to be helping anyone else at the moment.
“So how do I do that?” I said, standing up straighter and turning to face him.
“I think you need to take this in layers,” he said, reaching for my hands. “Get comfortable with one thing at a time, instead of trying to juggle everything all at once.”
“Okay, but all I’m doing right now is hanging out with you, and I still wig out every time I turn around.”
“It’s only been a few days, and you just started therapy. It does get better. I went through my own experience like this when Jeremy dumped me, remember?”
I sucked in a breath and hugged him hard. The whole time he had been in my life, Sam had been such a rock, a steady foundation for me to lean on. It hurt to think of him floundering in pain like I was now, uncertain of everything about myself.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I whispered.
“It’s okay,” he whispered back in my ear, his three-day scruff chafing nicely against my cheek. He hugged me tighter and said, “I have you now, and that’s a very good thing. I got through it, and so will you, I promise. We take it one day at a time, and whatever comes up, we’ll deal with it.”
I leaned back far enough to look into his deep blue eyes. “Why are you so good to me?”
A finger traced my cheek and grazed my lips, before resting on my neck. “Because I believe in you, little man. I know what it’s like to feel like everything you touch turns to shit, and no one wants anything to do with you. Like you’re a total fuck up before you even get started in life. But it’s not true. You have me. You have family — my family, anyway. And they love you. You have Maggie and Charles. And the guys. We’re all on your side. You just have to believe us and hang on until it all gets better.”
I swallowed against the huge lump in my throat. “Like Tommy did for you?”
His eyes misted over as he nodded.
I pressed my cheek against his warm chest and breathed in the scent of Sam. His arms found their place around my shoulders, holding me tight.
“I will never again tell you to leave me. I promise.”
“And I never will,” he said.
“No matter how messed up I get?”
“Forever,” he whispered.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the garage, rigging the fishing poles. Sam taught me how to spool fishing line on the various reels and attach them to the poles. Somehow I managed to let go of my earlier angst as we worked side by side together.
Once he pronounced the rigs, as he called them, ready to go, Sam grabbed two poles, a green one for me and a longer blue one for him, along with the new tackle box, and led us to the front lawn.
“What are we doing?” I asked, distracted by his sexy ass in an old pair of jeans.
“We need a little practice.”
“Practice? For what?”
He stopped in the middle of the driveway, looking around. “There,” he said, pointing to the lawn on the far side of the driveway. There were maybe five yards of grass between us and the alpine trees at the edge of the woods.
Handing me the green pole, he said, “Pretend the grass is water, okay? The edge of the driveway here is land. Your goal is to cast the lure into the water, while avoiding the trees. Ready to give it a try?”
I shrugged. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was pretty sure he knew that already.
With the patience of a saint, Sam stood behind me and showed me how to set the line and the reel, then flick my wrist to set the lure flying. He did it a couple of times, landing the lure exactly in the middle of the lawn, maybe forty feet down the hill.
“Your turn. Just do like I…yeah, that’s it. When you’re ready, let it fly.”
I bit my bottom lip, concentrating on flicking the bar on the reel and putting my finger on the line like Sam had done. I raised the pole up and back, and with great anticipation, I flung it forward.
Nothing happened. Then the lure fell straight down and bounced on the asphalt driveway. I had forgotten to let go of the line with my finger. Ugh. I totally sucked at this stuff.
“Try it again,” said Sam, once he had his chuckling under control.
I sighed and wound the line back onto the reel. I reset, determined to get this right. This time the lure really did fly — straight into the trees across the lawn.
“Crap! What did I do wrong?” I said, slumping my shoulders. Sam was immediately at my back, wrapping his arms around me.
“It’s okay. It’s your first time. It takes practice. You’re doing fine. Try to reel it in.”
I spun the reel, but the lure was obviously stuck on something in the woods. Now what?
“Well, I guess you have to swim for it, Jack.”
“Swim for it?”
“Yep. Gonna have to swim across this here lake to fetch your lure.”
“I’m not swimming for it. Can’t we just cut the line and start over.”
“But that would be cheating.”
“Cheating? Who the hell cares? It’s one bloody lure. Surely you don’t expect me to…”
Sam was now rolling in the lawn lake, hysterically laughing at me. I threw the pole down and jumped on top of him. He grunted, then wrapped me up in his arms.
I started tickling him and he really went wild, yelling and screaming for me to stop. I somehow managed to pin him down long enough to go after the back of his thigh, when Charles appeared from around the corner of the garage.
“What the hell are you two doing?” he demanded with a big grin.
I stopped and rolled off Sam, onto my back in the grass. Sam was gasping for breath next to me.
“Sorry. I lost my lure,” I said.
“Are you sure that’s all you lost?” said Charles.
I sat up. “I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind, thinking I can do this camping thing.”
Sam grabbed me and pushed me down again, then kissed me.
“You’re a natural,” he said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes. “ Get off me, you big oaf.”
“You boys play nice, now,” said Charles as he walked off to do whatever it was he did.
Sam kissed me again. “You’re sexy when you’re flustered.”
I pushed up against him, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed my flailing hands and pushed them to the ground over my head. Then he started kissing my neck.
“Sam…stop. We can’t…Maggie…Charles…oh god, do that again…”
We never did any more practice fishing. Sam chased me through the front door all the way to our bedroom, where he lured me into practicing other things, with different kinds of rods.
Maggie made a Mexican feast for dinner. She and Charles joined us at Sam’s invitation, along with Ben.
“Who’s gonna eat all this?” I said, staring at the huge platters of enchiladas and the makings for steak and chicken fajitas. The bowl of Spanish rice would feed a dozen people.
“Hush, Jack. We have company coming, and I want to make sure there is plenty of ready-to-eat food in the fridge. Grab a plate and help yourself,” said Maggie.
My hair was still damp from the shower. I sighed and went to the fridge for a water bottle. Sam was already seated at the table, assembling a fajita on a flour tortilla and then adding lettuce, tomato, and cheese from a condiment platter.
I took a small helping of enchiladas and some of the fajita chicken, then sat down next to Sam. The energy emanating from him was palpable.
“You excited?” I said, as I sat down.
“Hmm hmm,” he moaned with a mouthful. He swallowed and looked at me. “Can’t wait. It’s gonna be epic.”
“Epic, huh?” said Ben with a grin. Sam just smiled and kept eating.
While the others at the table talked about the impending visit, I thought more about what Dr. Margolis and I had discussed yesterday. She seemed to have put a lot of focus on my family. All I knew was if my family was about to arrive for a visit, I would have been anything but excited.
I must have frowned because Sam put a hand on my thigh under the table and whispered, “You okay, little man?”
I pasted on a grin and nodded. I was okay. Okay with being gay. Okay with Sam’s family visiting. More than okay, really. I was looking forward to seeing them again.
It helped that I didn’t have to plan anything. Encouraging Sam to take the reins meant all I had to do was be present and enjoy the company. I felt almost selfish, except I knew Sam was pleased to take the lead. That made me happy.
I didn’t say anything to Sam, but I was more than a little worried I would have another anxiety attack while his family was visiting. I mean, what could be worse than losing control in the middle of a camping trip with David and the twins watching me fall apart? Sam was doing all he could to make it stress-free, but let’s face it, this was me we were talking about.
On the other hand, I had absolutely nothing to fear, except the supposedly non-existent bear or two. Sam’s family was amazing. For the most part, I felt like they accepted me into the family, though the idea had taken them a little getting used to, especially Sam’s sister, Kat.
No, they had eventually made me an equal. I was Uncle Jack. That still made me smile.
“Earth to Jack,” said Ben, breaking me out of my reverie. “Where’d you go?”
“Just thinking about stuff,” I replied.
“Did it hurt?” he said with a grin.
I stuck my tongue out and tossed a piece of chicken at him. He laughed.
“Boys!” said Maggie. “Really, stop throwing food at each other. And Sam, sit up straight. I can’t imagine what your parents would think if they saw such childish behavior at the kitchen table.”
It was at that moment I realized Maggie was nervous. Probably worried about making a good impression on the Wainwrights.
“Sorry, Maggie,” I said. “Ben started it, but I’ll be the bigger man and ignore him.”
Ben rolled his eyes at me, then turned to Maggie. “I’m sorry, too. I was just worried that Jack might have overexerted himself, that’s all.”
Charles cleared his throat. He had all our attention in an instant. “We have guests coming. Let’s all try to put our best foot forward, shall we?” His eyes crinkled with laugh lines, and I did my best to not snicker.
We did manage to finish dinner with no more antics. Sam and I washed up, while Ben and Charles helped Maggie store all the leftovers. There were a ton, but that apparently was the plan.
Sam was antsy. He paced back and forth in the living room, not really watching the television he had turned on.
“Sam, what’s wrong?” I asked, standing up and pulling him to me. He settled into my embrace with a deep sigh.
“I’m just excited, that’s all. This is a really big deal for me. I want them to be happy for me. For us.”
“They will be. And just so you know, your sister is likely to try and steal Maggie away from us.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I won’t hear the end of it, for sure.”
“Is your surprise for your Dad ready?” I asked.
His eyes twinkled in the lamp light. “Yep. In the study. Can’t wait to see his face.”
“You know he’s gonna want to play a round of golf, like, immediately.”
“I know. That’s why I called Clyde and asked if he knew a good course to recommend.”
“Wow…okay, I would have never thought of that. Cool, so what did he say?”
“He did even better — he offered to play with my dad, take him to his club. He’s gonna ask Larry to join them, if he’s free.”
I smiled. “He’ll love it. What about your mom and Kat?”
“What about them?”
“Did you plan any fun outings for them?”
He grinned. “Kat told me, in no uncertain terms, to not schedule a thing. She and mom want two days of quiet rest, without us men even in shouting distance.”
“Cool. That’s easy.”
“Yeah. And if they get bored, I guess they can always go into town and shop or something.”
Sam held me in his arms and just looked into my eyes, until his cell phone rang.
“Cool, it’s Margie with an update,” he said, pressing the answer button. “Hey, Margie, what’s up?”
His face clouded over as he listened. When his eyes flared wide, I knew something was wrong.
“Are you sure? Yeah…okay…yeah, we’re on our way. No…I don’t know…Ben will. Okay…okay…call me if you hear anything.” He hung up and looked at me, his face ashen.
“Margie got a call from Justin. There’s something wrong with the plane. They’re diverting to Denver International…”