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Chapter 1: "Pleasure to Meet You" (Part 1/2)
I never knew what to do with myself during the holidays, now that I lived on my own. The first day was easy; I enjoyed taking my time running errands and then relaxing. Day two was when the restlessness started to kick in. "God damn it," I thought. A week and a half of this.
It was the Sunday before Christmas. I dragged my feet to the kitchen first thing in the morning, and made some coffee and toast. I sat on the dining room table and opened up the computer which was already there. Facebook knew the person I cared most about and he was already on the top of my newsfeed: my son, Eli.[1]
I smiled, looking at the new profile photo he'd just uploaded. Fuck, when did he get so big? He was 21 and had his own life in Chicago now, but in my mind he was still my little boy. I guess that'll never change.
As if he knew I was looking at his profile, Eli messaged me that very moment.
"Morning, Dad. We're about to leave soon, so we oughta be there round 2 or 3."
I checked the time. It was about a five-hour drive to me in Columbus.
"Okay," I typed. "Love you."
"Love you too, Dad "
I looked at the rest of his photos. When he said "we" he meant him and his new boyfriend. Almost every picture in the album was the two of them. Only, I felt weird calling Greg my son's "boyfriend." At 43, Greg was just two years younger than me, and there was nothing about him that resembled a "boy."[2]
I'd never met Greg. Indeed, I'd never met any of my son's love interests. All I knew was that he was from California. He'd met Eli on a recent business trip to Chicago and things must be pretty serious between them if they're trying to make this work long-distance.
I scrolled through one photo after the other, trying to solve the mystery that was Greg. I wasn't a fashion guy, but I could tell everything he wore was expensive. I wondered if he was born into money, or made it himself. We might be the same age, but we couldn't look more different. His skin, his smile, his muscles, all looked immaculate.
I opened up Greg's profile next, for maybe the dozenth time in the past few days. From what I could see without being friends with him, everyone he socialized with looked like him: wealthy and obnoxiously handsome. "He better not be some rich California asshole playing with my boy," I thought and slammed the computer shut angrily.
—
A few hours later, I was staring out my window anxiously. Eli had texted me they were almost here. When I noticed the coffee mug in my hand shaking, I wondered why I was so nervous. Could it be because I was meeting a boyfriend of Eli's for the first time? Or was it because that boyfriend was Greg?
When I saw a black Range Rover pull up in my driveway, I put my mug down and got ready to open the door. I was happy to see my son was smiling as he got out of the passenger seat. He looked happy. Greg got out from behind the wheel. It felt weird to see him in person, right outside, after weeks of looking at photos of him.
"Hey, Dad!" Eli gave me a warm hug on my threshold. "We made it in time to light the candles."
"Yes, you did. Come on in."
"Dad, I'd like you to meet Greg. Honey, this is my dad."
"Isaac, nice to meet you," I introduced myself and offered Greg my hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Isaac," Greg gripped my hand and gave it a strong, confident shake. He flashed me his smile, and I felt like he was some sort of celebrity. He looked like those people you see on TV but never in real life.
"C'mon in," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible and closing the door behind them.
"Is that your car out there?" I asked Greg, fully aware my son couldn't afford what looked like a brand-new Range Rover on his bartender salary.
"No, I rented it for the week. I'm flying back to LA after this," Greg said. Even when he talked, he sounded like a news anchor or something.
I invited them into my living room and offered them something to drink. They both opted for coffee. We spent the next half an hour talking about how they met (Greg went to Eli's bar on his first night in Chicago) and how they were making things work long-distance.
"It's a lot of work," Greg smiled at me again, "but he's worth it."
He put his hand on my son's knee and gave it a squeeze. Eli smiled and went to give Greg a kiss. What started off as a quick peck developed into a more passionate kiss, right in front of me. I felt a bit awkward, but didn't say anything.
"C'mon, I'll show you my room," Eli said to Greg when he was done sucking his face.
"Oh shoot, I forgot to make your bed," I said. "I'll grab you some sheets."
The three of us all headed upstairs. Eli took Greg to his room and I went to my bedroom next door.
I closed the door to get to the closet where I kept the spare sheets. Even with the door closed, I could hear Eli and Greg talking through the wall.
"So is this the room you had as a kid?" Greg asked.
"Yeah. Mom and Dad had the room next door, but after the divorce she moved to Florida."
"Is this still the same bed?"
"Yup," said my son's voice.
"And have you ever been fucked on it?"
"No. Not yet," I heard Eli answer, followed by what sounded like more kissing.
I looked down and realized I was clutching my fists, digging my fingernails into my hands.
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