Page 54 of Grief & Glitter

Sure, yeah, he knew about me. The gender-fluid guy who wore dresses and makeup to hockey events. The oddball whose son he was dating. I dressed as masc as I could for the frenzied trip out here. I didn’t want to rock the boat or anything. It felt wrong, but sometimes it was just easier to conform. Especially in a situation like this, with Gideon’s family involved, and his old friends and neighbors. I assumed we’d stay with his father until his brother was settled. I was willing to be uncomfortable to make this easier for Gids. Not like I hadn’t been bundled up under the heaviness of suppressing femme Ryan before. And this time it was for Gids, for whom I was willing to do anything.

“He’s not going to be too bad,” Gideon said as he poked at the corn chip that had escaped the bag. “Me dating a guy is the last thing he should be worried about right now. Maybe he should be focused on his remaining sons.”

“Maybe he’s doing his damned best,” a deep voice erupted behind us. I nearly leaped out of my skin. There stood a man who could be Gideon in thirty years. Tall, with silver threads in his dark hair, eyes as blue as new jeans. Lean for the most part. A tiny belly pushed against a light blue polo with dark brown dots of what I had to guess were dried blood on the front. Overall, a handsome man carrying a yoke of despair that bowed his shoulders. “Maybe we could all just give ourselves some damned grace.”

Mr. Taftwell stalked to a coffee machine. With shaking hands, he fed it a five then stood with his back to us as the cup hit the tray, followed by the steady tinkle of dark roast. The air in the little room was as thick as that coffee piddling into the blue thermal cup.

I shot Gideon a look, but he was lost in some other world, his brow resting on the arm that carried marks of his own agony. Squaring my shoulders, I walked around the table and up to Gids’ father. He glanced my way, sighed, reached for his coffee, then turned to face me.

“I’m Ryan Vale, your son Gideon’s boyfriend. I’m so very sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.” I shoved my hand—fingernails sporting chipped green polish—out at him.

I caught Gideon lifting his head in my periphery. My gaze stayed on Mr. Taftwell as Dad had taught me all those years ago. Always look a man in the eye when you’re shaking his hand. It shows him you’re a man of integrity.

“Joe Taftwell. I know who you are. Several of my friends made sure I saw the online posts from the casino night,” he said as he clasped my hand tightly.

“We raised a lot of money for a worthy charity that night,” I rushed to say to hopefully take the spotlight of that evening off the fact that I looked like Cinderella with a rather prominent Adam’s apple.

“So I read.” He held my hand firmly as his gaze dropped to his son. “I was more than surprised to discover my son liked men.”

“Can we not get into that here?” Gideon growled, his voice ominous. The warning was as loud as a tornado siren.

Joe dropped my hand. “Good idea. They’ll be moving your brother to a private care facility in Lansing in a couple of days. Staff here says it’s a nice place. Comprehensive. In network with his insurance.”

“Okay.” Gideon rose, took my hand, and led me to the door. “We’re staying at the Woodland Hills Hotel. I already booked us a room.”

“A hotel? I assumed⁠—”

“I need air and time to work things out.” Gideon’s grip was like a bear trap.

“You can’t get air at home?”

“No, Dad, I can’t. Home is nothing but a shrine to life the way it used to be. It will never be that again, and the longer we all keep lying to ourselves about that day, the longer we’re all going to keep harming ourselves. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Joe stared blankly at us as I was pulled along like a kite, the pace steadily increasing until we were jogging through the doors to burst out an exit, cold air like a slap in the face. The siren of an incoming ambulance could be heard on the icy winds as Gideon sucked in one lungful after another. I stood by his side—where I would always be found—fingers cold from his grip as he worked to find stability in a world that had twisted upside down on him.

Chapter 18

Gideon

The family room had a window overlooking a courtyard that was mostly dead grass and bare trees. I stared out there because anything was better than looking at my brother.

Noah sat across from me with his hands shoved inside the sleeves of a gray sweatshirt. He’d lost weight in the two weeks since I’d seen him in that hospital bed and had shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe they had. Maybe they were there in the summer when I visited, and I’d never looked closely enough to notice.

Dad had taken the chair next to Noah, and I’d automatically gone for the one across from both of them, with Dr. Patel sitting between us, not quite part of the circle, a notepad balanced on one knee.

“So,” she said. “Does anyone want to start?”

Wasn’t it her job to ask us questions? What in God’s name did she think the three of us might say? I wasn’t surprised when Dad and Noah volunteered nothing. Good to know some things hadn’t changed, and we were all as bad as each other.

Dad cleared his throat. “We could talk about what happens when Noah comes home and where he lives.”

“Fuck no,” Noah snapped. “I’m going back to my place, and I don’t want to talk anymore about that.”

Dad’s jaw tightened. I watched the old pattern forming in front of me. Dad pushing because he didn’t know how else to help, Noah shutting down because he didn’t know how to let him. Ten years ago, I would’ve stayed quiet. Probably five years ago too.

“Then don’t talk about it,” I said. Dad and Noah both looked at me. “What? I’m right. No point in putting something on the table to discuss when one of us isn’t ready to go there.”

Dad sighed. “We need a plan. Gideon is going back to Rochester tomorrow, and he can’t just leave without knowing what happens next.”