Page 101 of Roommate
Maybe he’ll become the kind of man who’s not afraid, my poor little heart says.
“So what are we cooking?” he asks as we pull away from the curb.
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s see what looks good. How do you feel about fish?”
He shrugs. “If you’re cooking it, I’ll probably like it.”
Oh, Kieran. He kills me sometimes.
The truck does a careful circumnavigation of the town green and then points toward the commercial strip. It’s a gray, cold day, but the truck is warm. There’s country music on the radio again, because I apparently have a thing for guys who like twangy guitar and heartbreak. But I’m in a sentimental mood, so I don’t even change the channel.
Kieran’s phone rings in the cup holder. “Man, that’s loud,” he says. “Could you silence it?”
“Sure.” I grab the phone. “It’s your mother.”
“I’ll get ’er later.”
“Are you going to tell your family you’re enrolling in the art school?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says. “I already know what my father would say. I’ll save us both the aggravation.”
And now I’m sorry I asked. The phone rings a second time. “It’s her again.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe I’ll call her before we go into the store. Just turn the ringer off?”
I’m doing that when Kieran makes a startled noise. “Did you hear that?”
It takes me a second to figure out that he’s talking about a story on the radio. The announcer is saying, “Country star Brian Aimsley made this announcement onstage in Tampa last night.”
And then I hear my ex’s voice. “I know it will surprise a lot of my fans to hear that I’m attracted to both men and women. But it’s just part of who I am.”
Wait. What?
“And I’m telling my story now, because there might be some fans out there who are struggling with their sexual identity. And I want them to know that it’s okay to be yourself.”
“Christ.” I feel a hot rush of anger, and I squeeze my eyes shut as Kieran pulls into a parking spot.
“Hey, that’s crazy!” He pops the parking break. “I can’t believe he’s bisexual. It’s pretty cool to just announce it like that.”
I make an angry, gagging sound. “No way. Somebody forced his hand. I’d bet you any amount of money that the story was just about to break anyway. In fact—” I grab Kieran’s phone again and unlock it. Then I hastily google Brian Aimsley and watch the screen fill with news stories. I scroll for a second, and then, boom. “Look. It was a gossip rag.” I shove the phone in Kieran’s hand, so he can see the story. “Somebody had pictures.”
At least they aren’t of me.
Shit. They aren’t, are they?
“Oh my God.” Kieran takes a sharp breath.
I go cold inside. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my dad.”
“What?” For a moment, my mind serves up a strange image of Brian Aimsley making out with Kieran’s dad. But then I realize Kieran is staring at his texts. I lean over to read whatever it is that’s turning his face a gray color.
Kyle: You have to come to the hospital in Montpelier. Dad had an accident. It’s bad. He might not make it.
He drops the phone in his lap and grips the steering wheel. “Shit,” he whispers. “I have to go to Montpelier.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a breath, and trying to think through my whiplash. “Breathe. And how about you let me drive? That way you can talk to him while we’re on the way.”
