Pressing the speed dial button, Peter laid back on the old couch in Marty's apartment. He had just put dinner on the two of them, and before Marty returned from his late shift at the library he decided he'd return a long overdue phone call.
He barely had time to settle in as the phone was picked up immediately after the first ring.
"Hey stranger!" Peter heard.
"Hi Bik, how's it going?"
"Good, good! So far everything is OK with Laura, thought it's still pretty early. I'm excited and all, but we're trying to just take it one day at a time."
"Can you see anything yet, I mean, um...is she getting big?" he asked, somewhat embarrassed by how directly he asked the question.
Bik just laughed. "It's only been a little over a month now, so not quite," he said with a chuckle, "but like I think I told you before, things can be pretty touch-and-go in the first trimester. I think it's one of the toughest times."
They continued talking about the baby, with Peter peppering him with all sorts of questions, especially about how Laura was holding up, and, of course, if they had any names yet. Bik was not at all surprised by the interest, but it wasn't the only important family concern on the mind of either of them.
"So..." Bik finally said, carefully changing the subject. "What is happening with your friend Marty? Laura and I have both been kind of worried, since we haven't heard from you at all since we talked."
There was silence.
"Peter?" he asked, a slight anxiety betrayed in his voice.
"Yea, I'm here. I'm OK," Peter replied, then paused again for a moment, deep in thought, but it felt like forever to Bik.
"I'm more than OK. I'm great. I really am. Everything with Marty went really fantastic...it feels like a dream, Bik. It's wonderful."
"So, I take that all to mean that he has some interest in you, no?" he asked rhetorically, a smile on his face that his brother could almost feel in his voice.
"Yes, I think that's right...Oh jeeze, Bik," Peter said, slightly exasperated. "I don't know how to say it out loud, or even what to say. I'm not trying to be coy or anything like that. It's just that...I'm not really sure what to say or call it. I just really care about him."
As he continued to lie on the couch, he put his free hand behind his head, supporting it as he continued to talk. "Could I ask you something, Bik?"
"Sure," he replied, almost knowing already what Peter was going to ask.
"When you realized that you really cared about Laura, did you really know how to say it, or express what it was, I mean, to other people? I sort of want to say he's my boyfriend, but that doesn't get it. It doesn't say enough. We've just, I don't know ... bonded, or something. Whatever you call it, it just seems so unbelievable" he said, a hint of playful exasperation in is voice. "Jeeze, I'm sorry, Bik. I don't know if I'm making any sense here. Maybe I just sound stupid."
"Huh uh, don't feel bad at all, you're actually making perfect sense, and I understand exactly what you are trying to say, or at least mean," he replied, with a kind of sure confidence in his voice that belied his own struggles with the same emotions . "Words almost trivialize some of this stuff, especially when it's about our feelings for another person. Even saying `I love you' sometimes hardly gets the point across."
"Yea, yea...that's it'" Peter replied. "There just aren't words that are intense enough, or strong enough."
Bik laughed. "Well, one thing is for sure though. Even though they are just words, they still do mean something. And `I love you' will get you a long ways with him."
Peter returned the laugh, "Oh yea, don't worry I still believe in talking and all, and listening to, at least in my limited way," he said playfully mocking himself. "Gosh, I have to say; when I hear those words from him it gives me goose bumps."
"Me too. And believe it or not, even though you think you feel as much as you can right now, you'll be amazed at how much stronger it gets." Bik said.
"So now, when we get to meet him?"
"Sooner than you think! I've asked him to come home with me for Christmas. I think I told you that his family is kind of distant and all. I can tell you more later on about that. But he and his sister could come."
"Have you asked our Dads? I'm sure they'd be OK and all, and would love to meet him if they knew. Which, of course, brings me to my next point," Bik said, drawing a deep breath before practically yelling into the phone, "CALL DAD AND POP!"
"I know Bik, I know, that's my next call," pleaded Peter, attempting to head off the scolding that he knew Bik had ready for him."
Bik did get on his case, but quickly moved on to helping Peter figure out how and when he should tell their Dads about Marty. They tossed around the question about whether Peter should tell them exactly who Marty is before they arrive, meaning telling them over the phone, which they both felt was kind of impersonal. Or when they finally arrived home, which meant having to explain why he didn't tell them sooner, which might disappoint them. Peter decided in the end that he would just see how the telephone conversation went and go from there.
After he hung up with Bik, Peter rolled his head deep into the couch cushion as he rested the phone on his lap. He wasn't nervous about rejection or anything like that– it was more about the importance of what he had to say. He was close to both his Dads, and it was perhaps the most important thing that he could ever tell them.
And he topped it off feeling guilty about not having called home for so long.
Finally, he gently pressed the speed dial button and waited for the phone to ring. Like when he called Bik, it was picked up on the first ring. No time for further thinking.
"Hey, it's our long lost son!" he heard his Dad say on the other end.
Peter laughed, but knew what anxiety he had probably caused and quickly answered him. "I know, Dad, I know, I'm really sorry I haven't called in a while. I did send you emails, but I've been so darn busy with finals that I hardly had time to breath."
"Don't worry, son. We understand." His Dad replied. "We went to college, too, so we know what happens during finals. But it's still good to hear your voice...and know that you made it through and all."
"Thanks, good to hear your voice, too," Peter replied. He told his Dad about the classes, what he thought about his professors, what his grades might be, the typical details of college life. But even as he spoke, the presence of Marty in his thoughts kept crowding out everything else. At this point he was anxious to tell Dad about the most important thing, but couldn't think of exactly the right way to do it. So he just started talking.
"Hey Dad, there's one more thing that I want to ask you about."
"Sure, what's that?" his Dad answered, a seriousness in his voice that almost put a lump in Peter's throat. He'd really better go through with this now.
"You might remember me talking about my friend, Marty, from the soccer team, I think I may have mentioned him to you a couple times earlier in the semester.
"Oh, yes. He played with you and Jeremy, right?
"Yea, that's right."
"He and his sister, they don't have a really good place to go for Christmas, so I wanted to invite them home. They'd be there for about a week, maybe a bit more. Do you think it would be OK?"
There wasn't a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. "Why, sure, I think that would be great. But let me ask your Pop, too, he's right here eavesdropping," his Dad said with a laugh. There were then just some muffled sounds on Peter's while his Dad moved his mouth away from the speaker to speak to his Pop.
"Can't hear you, Dad," Peter said softly
"oops, sorry Peter, I should know better" his Dad replied "Well, your Pop said bring em on,' so I guess that says let's do it."
"Oh great, thanks, Dad. I think it'll be a great time for everyone."
"If they are your friends, I think we'll be fine. We look forward to meeting them."
Peter's ear had been pressed so hard against the phone that he had to pull it away for a moment and rub it before he proceeded. Even with his marginal hearing, he immediately knew how nervous that meant he was.
"Peter, are you there?
"Yea, I'm here," he replied. Then he just let himself talk.
"Hey Dad?"
"uh...yes, Peter." His dad answered. "Everything OK?"
"Yea, Dad. I'm good," he said, then paused again. "Hey, Dad, you know this friend, Marty whose coming?
"Uh huh?"
"Well, um, I'm not quite sure how to say this, but um...he's special, Dad."
"What do you mean by special?"
"Um...we're together Dad, Marty and me."
Now there was silence on the other end of the phone.
"What, um... do you mean by together," his Dad asked, intense curiosity in his voice.
"We're a couple...We, um...we love each other, Dad."
Peter couldn't hear anything for a moment. "Dad?"
"I'm here, too, Peter," he replied, followed by a soft laugh. "Wow, that's... great...I had no idea...but I'm so happy for you...gosh that's so great," he repeated, almost dumfounded. "Now I really can't wait to meet him, and neither can your pop!"
There was another moment of muffled sounds before he clearly heard his Pop in the background say, "Hey, congratulations!" His dads had an uncanny way of communicating with each other when one was on the phone. Like they shared an ear, he once thought.
"Thanks," he replied in a loud voice, like he was trying to make sure that his Pop heard also.
"So tell me about him, this Marty person. What's he like?" His Dad's light banter from the beginning of the conversation was now completely gone, replaced by a much more serious and focused tone.
Peter told him much of what he told Bik. He only alluded to the difficulties in finally coming together, though he did tell him that he had confided in Bik when he had hit what he called a rough spot.
"You know, Peter, to be honest, I don't think we're all that surprised. I mean, about Marty."
"Really?" he asked, somewhat taken aback.
"I have to be honest with you son," he said, his Dad's voice suddenly more buoyant than ever in the conversation. "We both noticed how much you talked about Marty when you called during the semester. He was obviously important to you. We were both just hoping that things would work out.
"Bik never said anything to you?"
"Bik? No, nothing. Did he know?"
"Well, it's also kind of a long story, but he kind of guessed, too," Peter replied, a bemused resignation in his voice. "Was I really that obvious?"
His Dad laughed. "Not in any way that you could probably do anything about," he replied.
"Well, did you enjoy dinner? Do you think we can last 12 hours in the car all together?" Marty asked Angela as they returned to his apartment." He was sure that she had enjoyed herself with Peter at dinner, but still concerned that she would feel comfortable during the long ride ahead. And in front of everything was the big hurdle of coming out to her that night.
"Well, since we're getting up at such an ungodly hour, it was the least he could do," she replied with a wry smile. "He's lucky he's a pretty good cook, and seemed to know what I like to eat. But somehow, I don't think that those pork chops were a random choice," she said with suspicion in her voice. "You didn't just happen to give him any suggestions, did you?"
Marty was a bit embarrassed that she noticed, as Peter seemed almost desperate to know what she would like to eat. It was amusing to him how badly Peter wanted to please her and how little he actually had to do beyond just being himself.
"Well, he did ask me for a couple of options," Marty confessed, "So I gave him some ideas, but not a lot more than that."
"Well, I don't think you needed anything after basically giving him the menu, but I do appreciate it. And the food really was good." She said as she made her way to the couch.
After taking off her shoes, she plopped herself back on the couch. "I'm really glad you have a friend like him, Marty, and all those other guys I met a few weeks ago, too. You seem to be getting out more socially, at least more than last year. That's' a good think. You need friends. We all need friends."
"Well, I have to say, it has been a good semester socially. The soccer team guys have been great, and I like the people at work, too," he said as he pulled over one of the kitchen chairs to sit across from her, taking off his own shoes and kicking his feet up on the other end of the couch from Angela.
Neither said anything for a few minutes, Angela seemingly exhausted after her long drive and the meal, while Marty, slouching back in the chair, ruminated in his head how he was going to come out to her.
Finally getting up his nerve, he straightened himself up before speaking; clearing his throat in a way that signaled to her that some important utterance was coming.
"Angela, um... there's something I need to tell you about what's going on in my life. I'm glad you're here and all, because I wouldn't want to do something like this over the phone.
She sat up herself now, putting her feet back on the floor and placing her hands in her lap as she looked at her brother.
"Are you OK? Is something wrong?" she asked, a sense of urgency apparent in her voice. With all they had been through together, and the bonds they had forged, it was painful for Marty to stress her out even for a moment.
"No, nothing is wrong, nothing at all Angie," he quickly replied. "In fact, things are going really well. But...um..they're going well in a way that might surprise you."
He saw he body relax as she laid back on the couch, her arms now crossed in front of her and a slight smile on her face."
"What?" Marty asked, a bit shocked that the tension in her voice and posture seemed to so suddenly deflate.
This is serious stuff,' he thought to himself. She's going to be shocked.'
In spite of his own pensive look, the look of serious concern didn't seem to return to her face.
"This is kind of difficult stuff, Angie, I just hope that you understand, I think you will," he said, pulling all his courage together.
She continued smiling, but had now sat back up on the couch and reached her hand across to his.
"Peter is your boyfriend, isn't he?" she asked.
Marty was stunned. Like at the bar with his teammates, but multiplied 10 times over, he was nervous about the subject and what the reaction would be.
"You...how did you guess?" he coughed out, whatever speech he had stored up in his suddenly in ruins.
She smirked and then laughed. "When I was here last month and we walked around, you could only talk about two things. You asked about me and what was going on, which of course I appreciate, and you talked the rest of the time about Peter and what a great guy he was. And you smiled a lot. Really a lot!"
"It isn't like I've never smiled before, no?" he asked, a slight defensiveness in his voice.
"Well, yes and no," she answered. "When we were small, I hardly have a memory of you when you weren't smiling. Then... after everything happened, you changed."
"Well, I guess that's kind of true, maybe a little bit, I mean, you know, stuff changed," he stammered in response, still stunned about how she figured it out. "But going back to your earlier visit, I mean, I talked about other people, too, about Wei, Jeremy."
"Yes, you did," she said with a smile, "and they're obviously your friends. But you talked about Peter in a way that was a lot more intense and enthusiastic than what one says about casual friends."
Marty gave a shy smile. "Was I really that obvious?"
"Well, not to someone who didn't know you, of course. And to be honest, I couldn't have claimed I knew exactly what was going on. But tonight it was all so obvious that nothing else made any sense.
"Jeeze, what was so obvious tonight?" he asked, with slight frustration that he was yet again so transparent.
"Just the way you interacted, the attention you gave each other, how you looked at each other, all the little things, I guess. Someone would have to know Marty Landis to see the signs, and I do think that I can claim to be something of an expert there, if I do say so myself," she added.
"You seemed to be really concerned with how much he ate. And It was almost like you were the host, even thought it was at his place. You seemed to know it really well or at least feel like you could make yourself at home there. He didn't seem to mind at all, but it was a little bit unexpected. But then there something that was kind of a smoking gun at the end," she answered, as she squeezed his hand and released it.
"When you spoke to him as we were leaving...." she said, hanging the phrase in the air.
"As we were leaving?" he asked, anxious to hear where he had slipped.
"Well...when we were about to walk out the door, you put your hand on his shoulder, presumably to say a very manly and straight goodbye to him,"
"And? So where did I slip?" he quizzed again. "I'm not so bad at being manly, you know!" he said with a laugh.
"No, you're not, not at all. That's why it was all in the subtle things." she replied. "But you dragged your hand down his arm ever so slightly. It wasn't like you stroked it or anything like that. It was only for a nanosecond. But I kind of got me curious. "But then Peter kind of really spilled the beans." She continued, still being coy with him.
"Now it's Peter' fault!" he declared in mock indignation."
She laughed. "Yes, Peter. He tried to be nonchalant about. When I turned to put on my jacket, and he thought I couldn't see, he poked you in the ribs. But I saw it all in the wall mirror. It was funny it was so obvious. I almost called you all on it right there."
"Oh..." he said, with a slight bit of embarrassment. "I...um...guess it's hard to hide some of those things," he said, quietly.
"Yes, especially when you poked him back, even for another nanosecond!" she added.
Marty laughed and smiled before looking down at the ground, then back up at his sister. "It seems like you're OK with it. Are you"
She got up off the couch and went to her brother, pulling him up out of the chair and into a hug. "Yes, I am. Of course, as long as it's what you really want,"
"Oh jeeze, are you kidding! More than anything, anything," he said as he wrapped her in a hug. "This is real, Angie, it's not because of what happened. Although, I have to admit, I was afraid of that once. I thought that was why I was gay. But this is real."
"Wow, well it's not hard to tell that," she said as she released the hug.
Then she became more serious. "You know, I've always admired you for how you pulled through things, Marty. Not a lot of people could do what you've done."
"I don't know, sometimes it still comes back," he said as he then told here about the first soccer game, and how he still sometimes jerks his head back when Peter pulls him close. She listened intensely, nodding her head as she understood what was still happening to him.
"You might never get over some of those things. But, to be honest, I think everyone has something, hang-ups, history or baggage or whatever you might call them. But you've been through a lot more than most people. At least you have an excuse," She said, with smirk. "After what we both went through, one could easily hate guys. It sure couldn't make you like them, so you really, really have to have genuine gay impulses to feel like you do. And I guess I should say the same for myself about guys," she said with a laugh.
"By the way, you've always had a choice, too. A lot of girls in high school thought you were really hot. God, so many of them wanted you. You had no idea."
"Me? Why me? I'm not such a special guy."
"They thought you were. You've always kept yourself in pretty good shape, so maybe that was part of it. Should I list all my friends to you? It helped of course, that you were a year older, especially when you were a senior. I don't know what it was either, but they all had to have you."
"But you were oblivious, "she added. "At the time, I thought that maybe it was some reaction to all that had happened, so I didn't want to push you. Even last year in school, I just thought you'd do things when you were ready so I never asked you about dating or stuff like that. Though you certainly wanted to know all about any guys going out with me."
"Just being the protective older brother," he protested. It was an expression that's used all the time, but it was quite an understatement coming from him.
Then a more serious look came onto his face. "Angie, what do you suppose Mom will think of this?"
She paused before answering. "Gosh, I don't really know. She's so preoccupied with other things. I wouldn't be surprised if she wrote it all down to when you were attacked, that it's some kind of trauma response and all. But I really don't know."
"Hmmm..." Marty responded. "I'm not even sure when I'm going to tell her...jeeze, I don't even know when we'll see her again, maybe the summer, I don't know."
"Yea, so it's probably good to not even worry about it right now."
"You're right," he responded. He then looked down at the ground, then up again at Angela. "What do you think Dad would have thought?"
She smiled back at him. "From what I remember of Dad, he would...he would be there for you, Marty. He always was. I don't know, maybe my memories are kind of idealized now, I was pretty small back then. But I remember nothing but nice things about him. He was special."
"That's what I think, too. He was so...wonderful. He's what I think about to try to understand Mom, you know, that missing a person like Dad was such a huge loss, especially for her.
"You're a lot like how I remember Dad," she said. "No matter what I did, and I did plenty, if you remember," she said with a chuckle, "He never seemed to get upset or angry. I guess I'd say now that he always forgave me." She added.
It looked to Angela like the direction of the conversation was perhaps getting too serious for her brother, so she got up to slip into the kitchen for a drink of water, but spoke out to him as she reached into the cupboard for a glass.
"By the way, I think I mentioned that Peter is not really my type of course. Height and all that," she said with a laugh, "But he really is cute, especially when he smiles. If he had another few inches in height I'd try to steal him for myself," she declared. "You are one lucky dude."
"I'm lucky for a lot of reasons, Angie. For everything about him, not just his looks, he's..."
"Cut it, Marty. Admit it! He is a knockout!"
He was now turning crimson in embarrassment, when got further playful laughter from his sister.
Marty now couldn't help brightening up. "Yea, yea, he is, I know. His smile, it just lights up the room, it's so friggin' cute. And that brown hair of his, when it gets in his eyes, it's so beautiful. He looks like a little boy." He said as he was starting to get on a roll. "And you know what, when I run my hands through it...
"OK, Marty, we might be getting close to the `too much information' boundary here," she protested as she started laughing uncontrollably.
"Oops, sorry!" he responded with sheepish look on his face. "Um...just got a bit carried away."
Marty looked out the blinds to see Peter's car pull into the front drive. It was still dark outside with hardly anything visible under the dim streetlight.
"Time to get ready to load up!" he called out to this sister as she came out of the bathroom.
"OK, good. I've got my road trip primp so I think I can be seen in public now," she said. She had pulled here hair back, revealing her own full round features, which emphasized a familial resemblance to her brother that few could deny. "This isn't the prettiest sweater, but for a half day ride it's the most comfortable in the universe.
"Well that's what you need. In the interest of `everyone to the potty before we get in the car' I'm gonna hit the can now myself," Marty declared. "If Peter comes, could you let him in when he gets to the top of the stairs? You'll hear him before he even knocks.
"OK, then get a move on in there, and then we can get going. I'm going to stage everything by the door to have it all ready," she said.
Sure enough, just as she had finished putting everything by the door when she heard Peter's foot hit the first stair. By the time he got to the top of the stair she was on the landing waiting for him.
"Oh, Hi Angela!" Peter said, before covering his mouth before coughing.
"Hi, Peter." She replied. "You OK? You have a cold?"
"Oh, it's nothing, sometimes I get a cough like this," he said, then immediately changed the subject. "Good to see you, even this early!"
Even though she was holding a suitcase in one hand and a bag of food in the other, she had second thoughts about rushing down with packages and put both of them down. Then she gave him a huge hug.
Putting her head on his shoulder, she whispered in his good ear, "Take good care him, OK?"
"I will, he said, as he returned the hug, the relief clear in his voice as he squeezed her more tightly. "We take care of each other," he added before clearing his throat.
She pushed him back and took a good look at him. "Are you OK? You sure you don't have a cold? "
"Maybe a touch of one, but it's all right, I feel fine," he said, "but I..."
"I heard that cough, too," Marty said as he approached the door behind his sister. "How are you feeling?
"I'm OK, maybe just a bit of a cold. But I'll be fine..."
"Well, we'll keep an eye on you during the trip," he said, then he studied Peter closely.
"Is that all you're wearing? Marty asked, noticing that he was wearing only a light pullover shirt.
"Yea, once we're in the car, it'll warm up and ..."
Marty had already turned around and was rummaging through the top of the nearby closet. "Wear this right now. You can take if off if the car gets too warm, but you'll need it for a while," he said as he handed Peter a thick wool pullover sweater.
Peter was about to protest, when Marty's eyes drilled into him. Then he coughed again.
"Put it on now, Peter, OK?" he said, with that tone of voice that made a question into a command.
Peter wriggled himself into the sweater, then grabbed the baggage that Angela had brought out onto the landing. "Are we all ready?" he asked.
"Yup, if you take that stuff then Angie and I can get the rest and we're ready to go."
"Then let's do it!" Peter declared, before expelling another small cough.