Before calling my father, I hit Nick’s number.
“Why the hell are you calling me?” Nick askedimmediately. “Aren’t you busy getting laid or something?”
His crude comment reminded me that I had textedhim earlier, gushing like a teenager before embarking on my grocery storeexcursion with Holly. At the sound of his words, I could feel the softness ofher thighs pressed on either side of my hips and her hands against my back, hernails clawing at my skin and holding on for dear life as our breath came in andout in time with each other.
Nothing in my life had ever made me feel morewhole than that first time.
My eyes welled up at the thought, and I sniffedback the onset of emotion at Nick’s innocently upsetting comment.
“Yeah, well, let’s just say that ship hassailed.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, what did you do?”Nick groaned. I could see him rolling his eyes at the now-predictable twistsand turns of my life.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, willing myselfto go on with the conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just calling to let youknow I’m going to Florida for a while to stay with my parents and work on thebook without any distractions.”
“Jesus, are you okay?”
Ignoring him, I said, “I need someone to watchthe house, okay? I’ll pay you and Ashley to look after things here.”
Nick sighed, and I could see him ruffling thehair on his head the way he might pet a dog if his wife would permit him tohave one. “Oh, come on. You know you don’t have to—”
“Well, whatever,” I blurted, not in the mood tonegotiate. “I’ll take Tolkien with me so that you don’t have to worry abouther.”
“How long are you going to be away? Youhave—let me see …” Nick flew into business mode and I heard buttons beingpressed, undoubtedly flipping through my itinerary over the next few months.“You have that interview withThe Fantasy Gazettein the middle of themonth, but that’s a Skype thing, so that’s no problem. But next month, inmid-February, you have that anniversary party.”
“I don’t know if I’ll make it,” I said plainly.
Nick sighed his irritation as my agent/manager,but with desperation to be a good friend, he said, “Well, try. It’s a bigdeal.” I pictured him pushing his glasses onto his nose. “So, uh, again I ask,how long do you plan on being away?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” I replied shortly,pushing my hair back.
I wished I could have seen Nick’s reactionwhile he was silent. The only sound through the phone speaker was his breathingand the distant sound of little girls laughing.His kids, I thought witha weak smile. The kids that called me Uncle. Kids that would have treated myown like their cousins.
My kids …
I held my eyes shut, and taught myself againhow to breathe.
He finally spoke. “Dude, Brandon, if you needto talk …”
I bit my lip to prevent it from trembling. “I’mgood, man. Seriously. I just need to get out of here for a while. Focus onwhat’s important, you know?”
Nick sighed again. “Yeah, if that’s what youneed.”
I hung up the phone with a “I’ll let you knowwhen I get there,” and immediately called my parents to inform them that—readyor not—I was on my way within the next twenty-four hours. My father answeredand while I expected excitement, the news was received with concern. I guess,with all of those times I had turned down their offer for escape, they hadnever expected me to one day take them up on it.
“What’s going on, kid?” Dad asked in a hushedvoice. I heard a door close, and imagined that he was hiding from my mom’sinvasive ears. “Did something happen with your girlfriend?”
“Uh, yeah, well … We just broke up,” Imuttered, my voice struggling on the words.
“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry, son. How are you holdingup?” Dad said in his deep, soothing tone.
The little boy in me couldn’t fight it anylonger and I began to cry softly, the tears making new paths through the scruffon my face. “Not great,” I whispered, giving up any hope of behaving as a man’sman, and I allowed myself to succumb to my feelings with the comfort of myfather on the other line. “I fucked up, Dad. I hid some stuff from her, and …”
“What kind of stuff?” he pried gently.
Without seeing any reason to continue the HollyHoax any longer, I indulged my father with the tale of the relationship thatnever was, starting from the very beginning when a little girl ran into my leg.He gave me his full attention, only interrupting periodically to bellow at mymother that he would be out when he was good and ready. With my head in myhand, I let the memories flow freely along with my tears, reliving every momentwhen I could have just told her the truth. The outcome might not have been anydifferent, I realized, remembering how insistent she was that she wasn’tadequate enough to be with a personlike me—whatever that meant.
But what could have been spared was my heart,and when I verbalized this thought to my father, he scoffed and said, “Is thatreally what you want, though?”
