That… explained a lot. Probably more than it should have. The Darren I knew didn’t ask questions, at least not before this whole thing started. He either did something, or he didn’t. There was never really an explanation required. It made him seem cold, sure, and certainly unapproachable. At least, that’s what it seemed like from the outside.
I thought of telling her as much, but didn’t want to interrupt.
She said, “Maybe I let him have too much freedom.” She looked down at her hands. “I worked a lot because I wanted one day to be able to sever ties with Andrew, to be able to support the both of us on my own. But I never really had to worry about Darren. He didn’t cause trouble. He went to school. He got good grades. He made his own dinners on the nights I worked late, and did the laundry and cleaned the apartment we lived in and… just. He was a better son to me than I was ever a mother to him, I think.”
“He doesn’t see it that way,” I said lightly. “You have to know that by now.”
She laughed. “Oh, I know. I figured that out a long time ago when he told me to stop feeling so guilty all the time. He said he’d already had an absent father, he didn’t need a martyr mother. He was thirteen when he said that.”
“Snarky even then,” I said, sounding terribly fond.
“Even then,” she agreed. She looked back up at me, studying me with a fierce determination. I don’t know what she saw, but it must have been enough, because she said, “There’s only two times in his life that I ever really saw beyond that, though. Beyond the little boy who could take care of himself. Beyond my kid who was so independent, he probably could have been on his own as a teenager and come out just fine.
“The first was when he met Vince. He called me one day when he was in college and told me he’d found him. He’d always known Vince was out there. I didn’t hide that fact from him, nor did I hide who his father was. He knew Andrew was married to someone else, that I didn’t know it at the time. He’d never really seemed interested in finding out anything more. Or so I thought. Apparently, they were both at the University of Arizona. Apparently, they’d just run into each other one day and got to talking. Apparently, they’d figured out on their own who they were to each other. And when he called me, there was such light in his voice, such warmth, because he’d found his big brother, he’d found Vince. Vince was amazing, he said. Vince was so cool. Vince wasn’t the smartest, but that was okay. Vince liked the same things Darren did, and wasn’t that awesome?” She shook her head, a small smile on her face. The dishes were all but forgotten. “I don’t know that I’d ever heard him like that before. Certainly not years later when he told me he’d spoken to Andrew. And most certainly not when he told me he was taking a job with the city after he graduated. My sweetly indifferent little boy sounded alive, and it was something wonderful to hear.”
I didn’t want to ask, for fear of the answer. But I had to. Because I didn’t know if my heart could take not knowing. “And the second time?” I asked, hoarse.
“The second time….” She coughed and cleared her throat. “I didn’t know if it would happen again. I didn’t think there would really be a reason for it to. There were differences, sure. Now that Vince was in his life. He smiled more. He laughed more. I remember him coming up to Phoenix on his break from class and just hugging me for a while. That wasn’t something he normally did and I remember thinking I never wanted this to go away. He didn’t change completely, mind you. It wasn’t the way things worked. He was still reserved and aloof about most things, but there was just something more to him after. And that was good, you know? It was great. And I hoped it could become something bigger, that he’d finally let people in rather than keeping them at arm’s length. He never really had friends growing up, more like people who worshipped the ground he walked on because he was handsome, or good at sports. Got the good grades and the wicked smile. He had those things now, so I told myself it would be enough. And it was. Until you.”
And even though I knew it was coming, it still knocked the breath from my chest. My heart was tripping all over itself and all I could do was stare at her, slack-jawed and bug-eyed. It was probably not one of my more attractive moments, but I didn’t think I could be blamed. After all, she’d just said I was responsible in some major way for her son’s happiness. Or something. Maybe. Actually, I was probably thinking way too hard about those two words.
Until you.
But she was obviously waiting for some response, so I tried to force together some kind of coherent thought and form it into tangible speech. I failed, and rather miserably, as the sound that came out of my mouth then would probably not be out of place in a nature documentary about the orgiastic mating habits of macaques (why I knew those monkeys had orgies to begin with, I’d probably never know). It was really rather unfortunate, that sound, because the Austers had a big kitchen with great acoustics, and it echoed quite loudly. Echoing monkey orgies is not the best sound to make when the mother of the man you are kind of hung up on tells you that you’re a big reason for said man’s happiness.
I clapped my hand over my mouth so that no sound like macaque sex could ever fall from it again.
“Um,” Sherry said. “Are you okay?”
I nodded furiously, not trusting myself to speak.
“Should I continue?”
I shook my head. Stopped. Then nodded. Stopped. Then did both at the same time.
“Are you having a seizure?” she asked, eyes wide. “It’s okay! I’m a nurse. Don’t choke on your tongue!” She tried to knock my hands away, most likely to hold on to my tongue so I didn’t choke on it.
“I’m fine,” I gasped, pushing her hands away. “I just didn’t want to sound like monkey orgies when talking to you!”
“What,” she said, lips twitching.
“It doesn’t matter,” I hissed at her. “Why would you say something like that!”
Her brow furrowed. “The truth?”
“Oh my god.”
“Sandy, you’re—”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s going to be okay—”
“How is this going to be okay!”
“Wow,” she said. “This kitchen really echoes. Great design choice.”
The TV muted in the living room.
Silence.
Then, “Everything okay in there?” Darren called, sounding like he was about to get up and come galloping in to save one of us from the other.
“We’re fine!” Sherry shouted back.
“Everything is super okay!” I yelled.
“Super okay?” she whispered. “Because that sounds like you mean it.”
“Monkey orgies,” I growled at her.
“I don’t even know what that means!”
“You sure?” Darren asked. He didn’t sound any closer.
“She’s telling me more about your lovely wedding to a ninja turtle,” I said. “Summer wedding, Dare, really? You’re so precious.”
“Jesus Christ,” Darren said as laughter began to spill in from the living room. It was only another moment before the TV was unmuted and turned up louder than it had been before.
“Well played,” Sherry said.
“I am a drag queen,” I said, as if that explained everything.
“It was you,” she said, looking determined. “Only the second time I’d ever seen it happen with him.” I wondered if Darren would forgive me if I knocked his mother down and made a break for it out the back door. I thought maybe he’d even approve, given what she was saying to me. “He called me and told me that he’d met someone, someone unlike anyone he’d ever met before. He said this person was good and kind and seemed to walk on water, if Darren was to be believed.”
My skin felt hot, and my feet wouldn’t work. All I could do was stand there and listen.
“He told me he thought he’d messed things up, though,” she said. “Because if there’s one thing that Darren inherited from his father, one thing that can almost always be counted on, is that at some po
int, Darren Mayne will be an asshole. And he said that he hadn’t meant to be, but that he’d panicked.”
“Did he tell you what he said?” I asked, unable to keep my words from sounding harsh.
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to know. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of him finding someone that could make him happy, only to have him ruin it because he had to preen in front of his little idiot friends. Was it bad?”
I nodded.
She narrowed her eyes. “But you seem to have gotten over it.”
Right. Because she thought we were together. “I guess,” I said slowly.
“He didn’t mean it, you know. Whatever he said.”
I laughed bitterly. “It sure sounded like it at the time.”
“He was what, twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
I shrugged.
“Not to give him an out, but we all do stupid things when we’re that age.”
And apparently we do stupid things when we’re thirty-one too, but I didn’t think she needed to know that. “So forgive and forget?”
“Haven’t you done that already?” she asked. “Why would you be with someone who you couldn’t forgive?”
“Right,” I said. Because right.
“Look, Sandy,” she said as she stepped forward, taking my hands in hers. “I’ve seen it now. With my own eyes. The way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look that way at anyone else. I don’t know why you agreed to be in a relationship with him if you can’t trust that, but it’s real, okay? I’ve heard the way he’s spoken about you for years. I don’t know the courage it must have taken for you to admit how you felt, or whatever Darren had to overcome to finally allow himself to have this, but it’s real. If you need him to tell you, ask him. He will tell you it’s real.”
“You can’t make me cry on Thanksgiving,” I told her, blinking away the burn. “It’s against the law. If you cry on Thanksgiving, Native Americans come to your house and take away your pie and then give you blankets filled with smallpox as ironic revenge.”
“I don’t think that’s quite how it goes,” she said.
“You don’t know that,” I said. “You’ve never cried on Thanksgiving.”
“Maybe I have.”
“Have you ever had smallpox?”
“No.”
“Then you haven’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t tell Darren I made you cry. He’ll never let me come back to Thanksgiving. Or ever. He’s very protective of you.”
“Don’t say stuff like that!” I snapped. “You’re making it worse!” As if to prove my point, a big, fat Disney Princess tear fell down my cheek.
“Oh my god,” she moaned. “That was like the most perfect tear I’ve ever seen. I’m in so much trouble.”
“You don’t have to—”
“What’s going on?” Darren asked from the doorway. He was frowning and looking between the two of us. His phone was in his hand. “Are you crying?”
“Of course not,” I said, my voice watery. I sniffed. “That would just be ridiculous.”
He stalked over to me, glaring at his mother. He pushed between us and stood facing me, setting his phone on the counter. His brow was furrowed as he reached up and took my face in his hands. His thumbs brushed my cheeks as he studied me, as if he could figure out all that had occurred just from the look on my face.
“I’m okay,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re getting snot on my hands. You’re not okay.”
“Gross,” I said, not moving at all.
“Tell me about it,” he said. “The things I do for you. Why are you crying?”
“That would be my fault,” Sherry said, sounding guilty. Darren’s hands tensed slightly on my face. “We were talking about—”
“Family stuff,” I said. “You know. Holidays and family stuff. It just gets to me, every now and then.”
He sighed and before I knew what was happening, he wrapped me in a hug, chin hooked over my shoulder, my face pressing against his neck. His arms were tight around me, holding me close, and it might have been the nicest thing that had ever happened to me. I felt safe and warm and I didn’t want this to be fake anymore. Not after everything.
His breath was on my neck as I looked over his shoulder. His mom stood behind him, and when she caught my gaze, she grinned widely and gave me a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes at her, but didn’t let go.
I wanted this.
And maybe, just maybe, I could have this.
AND THEN it all came crumbling down.
We were in the living room, drinking wine and laughing at Charlie, who growled at the TV every few minutes or so.
I was sitting next to Darren on the couch, curled up at his side, his arm around my shoulder. I felt loose and happy.
“I’ll get the dessert set out,” Matty said after a while. “In case anyone wants some.”
“I’ll help,” I said. Feeling rather daring, I leaned over and kissed Darren on the cheek. He turned his face as I started to pull away and his lips grazed mine, and for a moment, we sat there, grinning stupidly at each other.
“Ugh,” Charlie said. “You two are going to be worse than Paul and Vince.”
“Hey!” Paul said. “No one is worse than us!” Then, “Wait.”
I laughed and Darren squeezed my shoulder before letting me go.
I followed Matty into the kitchen. She was at the fridge, pulling out whipped cream and setting it on the counter.
I began to unwrap the pies when she said, “You guys look happy together.”
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Maybe.”
But she knew me too well to allow my bullshit. “You’re allowed to be.”
I looked up at her. “I think I’m starting to see that.”
“Good,” she said. “Can you get the knife out of the—whose phone is that? Can you move it?”
There was a cell phone on the counter. It was Darren’s. He’d forgotten it when he’d come to save me from his mother’s smallpox love. I picked it up, meaning to pocket it until we went back out into the living room.
It vibrated in my hand. The screen lit up.
1 New Text Message, it said.
I didn’t expect to see the name it’d come from, however.
Caleb.
I stopped.
It was wrong. It was wrong to look through someone else’s phone. It was wrong to invade someone else’s privacy. There was a perfectly logical reason why Darren would have Caleb’s phone number. Why they would be texting back and forth. Why they would be talking to each other at all.
And I trusted him.
Right?
I swiped the screen.
The message history pulled up.
It was rather short.
And Darren initiated it.
Darren: When can you meet up?
Caleb: It’ll have to be after the holiday. Family coming to town
Darren: That’s fine. Just make sure no one knows
Caleb: So secretive. I like it!
Then, from tonight:
Caleb: Family is staying a few days longer. Can’t meet yet
Darren: That’s fine. Just let me know when. I’ll make time for this
Caleb: And what are you going to tell your boyfriend?
Darren: Nothing. He doesn’t need to know. This is between you and me
And the last message, the one just received.
Caleb: You sure know how to make a boy feel special ;)
Chapter 18: Continental Airport Breakfasts and Piss-Pigs
THE DAYS leading up to the drag bachelor auction were busier than I’d been in a long while. Between helping Paul pick out flowers for the wedding (“You have to have flowers, Paul! We’re not some kind of uncultured swine who can’t fucking class up a joint!” “But Sandy, what if the horses eat them?”), meeting with my ten bachelors while studiously ignoring the strange looks Darren kept shooting me (“Yes, I understand you’re all men, but for one night, you are all go
ing to be men dressed like ladies, so you will learn to walk in heels, so help me god!”), and making sure Darren understood I was far too busy to even sit still and have a conversation with him (“Sandy—” “Not right now!” “I need to—” “So busy!” “Can you just—” “Doing things!”).
I led a hard life, full of trials and tribulations.
Given that I was obviously not making any baseless assumptions about anything (there were texts that could not be misconstrued) and that Darren was planning on fucking the hipster twink, it seemed wise that I go back to the start, where Darren Mayne was an asshole and I was using him solely to save Jack It without the detriment of feelings being involved. (If I was being honest with myself, I no longer really understood why the fake relationship thing still needed to happen. Who exactly were we trying to fool? Wasn’t the whole point of this to try and trick the mayor? Or Darren. Or someone. I wasn’t really sure anymore, if I’d ever been at all. While I was good at pretty much everything else, I was certain the evidence pointed to the fact that I was the worst fake boyfriend to ever fake boyfriend. It can be disheartening to find your life can’t be an eighties movie, no matter how hard you try. And since I no longer understood why I was doing what I was doing, I decided to just let it fall as it may. It seemed easier that way.)
And since feelings were no longer involved (it was preposterous that they’d even been there to begin with!), my life became extraordinarily simplified now that I had a specific goal in mind. Jack It would be saved, and I, Helena Handbasket, would be its savior. There would be parades in my honor with fireworks and hunky firemen, and in his concession speech to my victory, Andrew Taylor would announce that December would forever be known as Helena Handbasket Appreciation month and everyone would be required to buy me something and lay it at my feet while nearly nude musclemen cooled me with palm fronds and fed me peeled frozen grapes while occasionally begging to choke on my dick. And really, what else would the month of December need to be known for other than me?