She shrugs, staring at her menu. “Well, you called me … so spill.”
“I had sex with him.”
“Wyatt?” Her back pulls to attention.
“Trick.”
Her menu slips from her grasp and our waiter has it picked up and back in her hands before she blinks. “How is that even possible?”
I shake my head. “Really, I have to explain the birds and the bees to my seventy-five-year-old nana?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. I thought he’s gay.”
“He is or was or … I don’t know.”
“Well, what did he say about it?”
“He didn’t. We’ve only seen each other once since, and all I know is I’m the first woman he’s been with.”
“What about his partner?”
“I don’t know if he’s told Grady. When I saw him the other day his face had taken a beating at some point, but he wouldn’t tell me about it. There’s no way Grady would do that to him so … I … I just don’t know. I’m so confused, and angry, and hurt.”
Nana clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “So now what?”
“I guess it’s over.” I tap my finger on the rim of my glass. “But the thing is, I feel like I need some sort of closure. I need him to tell me why he did it, and as much as the words will hurt, I need to know if he regrets it. Without at least that much I don’t know how to move on.”
She reaches across the table and rests her hand on mine. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, and if your mother were here, I know she’d say the same thing. You’re a beautiful, smart, and talented young woman. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you. So if you need answers, then go get them. Stand up for yourself; that much I can promise you will never regret.”
I nod, feeling the emotions sting my eyes. She wouldn’t be so proud if she knew I’ve been sweating out results of an STD test. “Love you, Nana.”
“Love you too, dear.”
*
My shower an hour ago was a complete waste. I’m already pitting-out as my clammy palms fist my purse and keys. Although I know Trick’s code, I don’t feel right letting myself in so I buzz him on his intercom.
“Hello?” Grady.
“Hey, Grady. It’s Darby.”
The door buzzes and I take the elevator up. As if facing Trick isn’t enough, I get to face his likely disgruntled lover.
“Hey, sweetie!” Grady greets me with an unexpected enthusiasm. “I was just on my way out.” He kisses both of my cheeks. “He’s in the bathroom washing off his coverup.”
I grimace. “You’re not the one who … or you didn’t—”
“Rough him up?”
My face twists. “Yeah, that.”
“Damn right it was me.” He winks then laughs as I inspect him, looking for any signs that Trick landed a punch: broken glasses, bruising, cuts. It’s as if he can read my thoughts. “He doesn’t fight back about certain things. Have fun.” He shuts the elevator gate and waves as it starts to descend.
I will never fully get the weird dynamics of their relationship. I’d say it’s a gay thing, but I think it’s just a Grady and Trick thing. Stealing my thoughts, Trick rounds the bathroom corner, his movement coming to a sudden halt when he sees me.
As much as I don’t want to let my eyes look at his bare chest and arms inked with tattoos of which the meanings I will never get to hear, they have a mind of their own and take a final look anyway. “Hi,” I say with weak voice.
“Hey,” he responds with equal lack of enthusiasm.
“I won’t contact you after today, but I need some answers.”
He nods, deep lines sinking into his forehead.
“I just need to know why.”
He looks down, lips pulled in a firm line.
“Was it pity?”
His head jerks up. “Why would you say that?”
I press my knuckle to the corner of my eye and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Because I believe that we were truly friends and sometimes friends make sacrifices for each other. And I don’t blame you for any of it; I really don’t. But now I have all these emotions and I don’t know what to do with them. I need some sort of closure to move on. I need you to tell me that it was all for me and that you left because you regretted it … you regretted us. Just … please I-I need something … please, Trick.” I wipe my cheeks. The part of me that will always belong to him feels like it’s dying. It’s not a metaphor; my heart physically hurts right now.
He shakes his head. “I can’t.” It’s barely a whisper, but I hear it.
His words grip my aching heart, threatening to crush it. “Trick, please don’t do this. You owe me this much.” I walk toward him. “Just say it … just tell me it was pity. Tell me it was some weird curiosity. Tell me you were confused about your sexuality. Tell me it was nothing … Tell me we were nothing, tell me—”