The Coil (5 page)

He had to give Tim a little credit. He hadn’t signed up for being a parent—a parent of a high-functioning autistic child, no less—but neither had he. The only difference was that Tim hadn’t been obligated to stick around. Only loyalty had kept Tim with him for so long, but even that had not been enough.

Their lives had been turned upside down. They’d gone from concerts, traveling, and mornings spent leisurely fucking, to changing diapers and midnight feeds. And then later, rigorous doctor appointments had occupied their time, extremely upsetting temper tantrums from a child that was faced with a world with colors that were too bright, noises too loud, and hands that wanted to touch when being held was terrifying. He and Jamie were settled now, they had their routine, but at the time when Tim was still on the scene, they’d still been trying to find their way, fumbling as they went, and the tantrums that had been fucking traumatic for all parties involved took their toll.

Tim couldn’t cope.
“I never wanted this, I don’t want this, I’m so sorry,”
he’d said, and then left. Two years together, blissfully happy, and then three years together as a small, struggling family. To be fair, he’d half wished he’d been the one to say that, the one with the luxury of walking away. Jamie had been three, diagnosis new and still earth-shattering. Every moment revolved around what he’d considered at that time to be their child. Somewhere along the way, they’d just stopped looking at each other, and life with him and Jamie had become a chore for Tim: painfully exhausting and totally encompassing.

He remembered sitting on the bed watching Tim pack. They both cried. He’d surrendered his last ounce of dignity, taking Tim’s hand, pressing it to his brow as silent sobs wracked his frame, and he’d begged. He’d begged Tim to not go, to not leave him alone, that he couldn’t cope without him. And there’d been this horrible moment where Tim had flinched and pulled his hand away, as if he couldn’t bear his touch. Simon knew now that his touch had been a shackle to a resigned life that was suffocating Tim, but he hadn’t known that then, and it had hurt him like hell at the time.

All Tim could do was say that he was sorry, his mind utterly made up and desperate for escape. The worst of it was that Jamie had
noticed
. He’d only just begun to speak, but Tim had been one of his caregivers. He’d been a strict part of his routine that, thanks to his ex, had gone completely up in smoke. It hadn’t mattered that he was heartbroken, that Daddy needed a second to catch his breath or a few moments to grieve the life he’d envisioned for himself, because there was absolutely no understanding empathy for Jamie. Not when he was three, and not when he’d be a grown adult.

They’d somehow,
somehow
managed. It had been a tough year for both of them, but they had their routine down and Jamie was making progress. He was verbal. He’d started to learn how to dress himself and to tell his dad when he needed to go to the bathroom so he didn’t mess himself. The care and attention, though draining, made for a relatively calm life for his child.

How was he supposed to introduce someone new into that mix? If Jamie learned to like another adult, to trust him as he did his own father, and then they left? It would be so much worse a second time around.

So he supposed it was kind of safe to look at the handsome young man at the sandwich bar, maybe even fantasize a little. Because there was no way anything could ever happen, and that wasn’t the pessimist in him speaking, it was the realist. Guys like that? They had the world at their feet, people lining up around the corner for their attention.

He sneaked another look, and almost laughed as the other guy caught his gaze again. He caught sight of a dimple, and the cute guy raised his hand slightly in a small wave not meant for anyone else to see. Apparently he was polite too. Simon smiled uncertainly, dipping his head slightly in response, and turned back to his laptop.

Just do some work, Simon
.

“H
ERE
, go give him a refill. And that’s not a euphemism for anything.”

Ty set the coffeepot in front of the sandwich counter and gave Mattie his best shit-eating grin. Mattie laughed and shook his head.

“I’m busy. Can’t you tell?”

“Wiping an already clean counter?”

“Um. Yes. Get lost.”

“You’re making disgusting goo-goo eyes at him. And I’m a guy. I should never have to say that to another dude. Look at what you’re doing to me, man. I’ll be knitting next.”

“No one’s asking you to interfere.”

“No, they’re not. But luckily for you, I’m an awesome friend. Go top off his coffee.”

“No.”

“You waved at him earlier. God, I can’t believe I’m having such a girly conversation.”

“He was looking at me.” Mattie shrugged, embarrassed. “Seemed the polite thing to do.”

“He was looking because he thinks you’re hot. I’m losing masculine points by the second here.”

“Scratch your balls or something.”

He discreetly scratched his balls. “That’s better.” Ty drummed his fingers against the counter. “Titties.”

“Excuse me?”

“Big-ass titties.”

“Um, okay. You’re weird.”

“Just trying to compensate for the following….” He took a deep breath. “Ah, Jesus. Okay, look. You really like this guy.
Really
. I can tell. You moon over him every day. He’s always looking over his shoulder at you and clearly wants to make a playdate with the lower half of your body.
Dude
. Just go
talk
to him.”

“And say what?”

“Uh, how about:
‘Hi, I’m Mattie. Date me. Now.
’”

“Very smooth.”

“You’re hot. You don’t have to be smooth.”

“Ah, shut up, I am not. Hetero boy.”

“Yes, you are, you ungrateful shit. You have biceps and everything. I bet your stomach has those bumpy things….” He clicked his fingers, looking for the word.

“Abs? A six pack?” Mattie laughed.

“Yeah! You got muscle where there should be a nice soft layer of skin. Freak.”

Mattie shook his head and laughed quietly. He wiped his hands on his apron before discreetly lifting it and the corner of his T-shirt beneath a few inches. “You mean these things?”

“You are such a douche. Do you even say anything to him when he buys food?”

“Not really.”

“
Why
?” Ty lowered his voice, looking around him as a customer walked past toward the restroom.

“
Because
!”

“Lame.”

“Because when he speaks my IQ drops a hundred fucking points!” he hissed.

Mattie sighed as his friend’s shoulders dropped, and flushed when Ty raised a single eyebrow at him that practically screamed “pathetic.” He shook his head, leaning on his elbows across the counter, and kept his voice quiet. “You have to step it up with a guy like that. You have to know shit, be able to talk about books and philosophy and God knows what.”

“I think that’s called stereotyping.”

“You’re the one who said he was a geek.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not into sports, cars, action flicks, and dirty bad sex like the rest of us.”

Mattie frowned and pushed away from the counter. He untied his apron and drew it off over his head. “I ain’t got nothing to offer a guy like that, so let’s just drop it, yeah?” He shoved the apron under the counter. “It’s quiet, so I’m going for a quick break. Get back to work already.” He gave Ty a halfhearted smile to take any sting out of his words, and headed out back for some fresh air.

Ty rolled his eyes and watched as Mattie headed toward the door marked “Employees Only.”
Why do gays gotta make it so complicated?
Narrowing his eyes at Mattie’s retreating back, he picked up the coffeepot and headed over to the big ol’ scary nerd’s booth.

“H
I
THERE
, refill?”

Simon was jolted out of his work by the friendly question, and he offered the waiter a polite smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Ty poured the coffee and stole a quick glance at the open laptop, expecting to see anything from porn to kitten videos on YouTube. Disappointed, he spied an open word document. “So, you a writer, or…?”

Surprised at the initiation of conversation, Simon looked away from the laptop and fought the compulsion to turn the screen away from view. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

“And ‘Don’s Diner’ is a source of inspiration for you?”

Simon smiled. “No, not really. But you give free refills and have Wi-Fi. And my kid likes it here too.”

“Oh yeah, cute little guy in a cape? He’s a favorite around here.”

Simon felt his polite smile turn into something more genuine. “He is?”

“Oh yeah. Daphne—our waitress? Thinks he’s adorable. And Mattie—the guy who stares at you sometimes because he thinks you’re all hot and stuff? Well he thinks your kid is the cutest thing alive, swear to God.”

Sputtering hot coffee, Simon quickly dabbed his chin with the cuff of his sleeve. “Excuse me?”

Instead of answering, the waiter grinned and took a glance around them before slinking into the booth, sitting opposite him. He leaned forward, his head low and voice quiet. “You are gay, right? I mean, you keep looking at him too.”

Simon swallowed, feeling his cheeks flush alarmingly. “Uh, well….”

“Or have I got this totally wrong?” A look of horror flashed across the waiter’s face. “Oh man, you won’t tell the boss I’ve been hassling you, will you? Geez, I’m sorry. Look, I can get you a free bagel—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, uh….” He laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, I
am
gay, but….”

The waiter sat back, a totally relieved and somewhat satisfied smile spreading across his lips. “Oh, well…
great
! So you’ll ask my boy Mattie out, right?”

“I don’t think—” Simon paused and then leaned forward, curiosity for the moment winning over his usual realistic self. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about the guy at the sandwich bar?”

“Yup.”

“The one with the baby blues and dimples. The twenty-year-old?”

“Twenty-six, and yeah, that’s the one.”

“The ridiculously gorgeous guy with the perfect stubble and shy smile? That guy?”

“I just said—”

“And he’s interested in
me
?” Simon couldn’t help it; he laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. No offense or anything.”

Snorting in amusement, he shook his head and reached for his coffee. “I don’t know what kind of joke the two of you are playing—”

“No, dude. Seriously, I’m not yanking your chain here. He thinks you’re the shit. He doesn’t know I’m talking to you, though, and he’s too intimidated to do it himself, so don’t let on I said anything.”

Simon couldn’t think of a single thing to say; the idea of it was so preposterous. He just huffed out a disbelieving, halfhearted laugh and looked at his Blackberry when it began to vibrate on the table next to his laptop. He picked the phone up, frowned, and set it back down without answering. The waiter gave him an odd look and then glanced to the back of the room.

“Look, just think about it, all right? Mattie’s a great guy. He’s artistic and laid back, a real cool guy. He’s funny too. Sometimes even on purpose. And for some reason, he thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, or something.” The waiter picked up his coffeepot and walked away.

Somewhat stunned, Simon looked back at his computer screen, feeling utterly dumbfounded. Well, well, well. Gorgeous fantasy guy not so unattainable after all. A small smile spread across his face. It was impossible not to be flattered. Of course, he wouldn’t be doing anything about it. The fact that his secret crush seemed to return his feelings didn’t change anything. He couldn’t have a relationship. Not with all the complications Jamie attracted, and not after what happened last time. Still, he was flabbergasted that the option was there. He frowned. Was the option there?

The waiter had seemed genuine, but perhaps something casual was what would be more appropriate—the
expected
, of a relationship with such a knockout younger man. There was nothing wrong with casual. Casual he could do. The small flashing red light on his phone caught his attention, and pressing the center key to light the screen up, he could see he had a voice mail.

A small groan escaped him. He wouldn’t have answered that call even if it hadn’t been in the middle of one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had. He didn’t take calls from his mother anymore. Still, a small part of him that missed having a family outside of Jamie was curious as to what it was the witch wanted now. Biting his lip, he let out a quick breath and dialed his voice mail.

“Simon, it’s your mother. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed your number, though I—I… um… can you call me back? Please? I’d like to speak to you. I think all this nasty business between us is entirely unfair. I know what I did was terrible, but I’m his grandmother, and I was just doing what I thought was—”

Simon hung up and deleted the message. Three years, and she still couldn’t say the two words that would begin the mending of fences between them. But then, as mule-headed as she was, he would probably be waiting a long time, and even then, he might not be able to forgive her.

He shook his head, his mood drastically heading downhill after his momentary high. That she had disapproved of his “lifestyle,” or of who he was, was one thing. But to bring lawyers into the mix and attempt to take his son from him, on the basis that it was
wrong
to bring a child up in a same-sex partnership, just brought to the surface all the bad blood and tension accumulated between them after so many years.

It’d made him as sad as it had angry. There had been a time when they’d been close. He’d never known his father, so it had been just the three of them when growing up: Carol-Ann, Mother, and himself. They’d loved each other up to the sky and back, but then he’d come out to them, and while Carol-Ann had supported him and told him that she only loved him more for finally knowing who he really was, his mother was a different story altogether.