Page 115 of Sweat

“Well, I know I’m not a cat person.”

“Does it feel weird?” she asks. “Being with a man?”

“You mean dating a man or having sex with a man?”

Eyeing Erica in the yellow glow of the streetlamps, she’s blushing and scrunching her nose like she’d rather live her whole life blissfully unaware that I’ve ever had sex. Or maybe it’s just the gay sex she’s flustered by. Either way, I get a sinister kick out of discomforting her.

“Both, I guess,” she says, smiling through her shyness.

“It is weird, but in a good way. I actually wanna go on dates with him, plan things and take him places. Even if we’re just sitting on a bench watching grass grow, I could do that for hours and be happy. He doesn’t make me feel like I have to be any sort of way. Like, all I have to do is exist as myself, and he treats me like I’m perfect.”

Erica swoons, hugging my arm with both of hers and laying her cheek on the ball of my shoulder. “Aww, Tommy, you are perfect.”

Now I’m the one blushing, and I’ve got no one else to blame but myself. To even the playing field, I tell Erica, “As for the sex…mind blowing.”

“Really?” her eyes scintillate, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah. It’s just… He’s so… He’s fucking hot, for one thing. But everything he does to me—everything we do together is…” I make an explosion sound with my mouth, realizing my mind isn’t poetic enough to conjure an accurate description of how incredible Rowan makes me feel.

“Oh my God,” Erica snickers. “You really are gay.”

“Lese thought I had erectile dysfunction.”

That’s got Erica laughing so hard, she’s coughing again, and all our mirth dies on impact. She crouches so her hands touch the sidewalk, and she splatters the cement in blood.

“Erica.” I pat her back again until she settles. “Let me take you somewhere.”

“I’m fine,” she croaks, swiping her coat sleeve across her mouth. “Let’s start back home.”

I take her hand and help her back up. We turn around, and she hugs my other arm on the way back toward the house. This time, it’s my turn to ask the questions. “What was Mav’s dad doing here? I thought he fucked off to Oakland.”

“He did, but he drove in so we could talk.”

“Talk about what? All the child support he’s never paid?”

“It’s complicated, Tommy.”

“Yeah, everything’s complicated. I’m gay, you’re dying, and Mav’s never had a dad a day in his life, because that loser couldn’t be man enough to accept his fucking responsibilities.”

“He didn’t know,” Erica mutters.

“He didn’t know what? That he’s a loser?”

“He didn’t know about Maverick.”

“What?” Stunned immobile, I halt in the middle of the sidewalk.

Erica lets go of my arm and turns to face me. Not meeting my bulging eyes, she mumbles, “Like I said. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated? You told me he ran off because he didn’t want a kid. You told me he said Mav wasn’t his. You told me he refused to take a paternity test. You lied to me? How is lying to me complicated?”

“You were thirteen when I was pregnant, Tom. Of course I lied to you. You were a child.”

“You lied to Ma. After all she’s done for you.”

Rolling her eyes, Erica says, “Mom didn’t do shit for me or Mav until I got sick. First thing she told me when she found out I was pregnant was to pack my shit, because she wasn’t going to raise another baby.”

I crane my head back and heave a hard breath up toward the hazy sky, willing myself to calm down. “So you made sure Mav was out with Ma so you could go relive the glory days with the dude you’ve been lying to for seven years?”

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