Page 24 of Ted's Temerity
“Alright, yeah, I get that,” he rubs his hand over his bearded jaw. “And you’ve just been dealing with this on your own?” I shrug, trying to ignore the narrowing of his eyes. “Ted.”
“That tone doesn’t work on me,” I try to joke. “Especially because I taught it to you.”
“Ted,” he repeats.
I sigh. And then the whole story pours out. “It’s a cliché, really. Or it starts with one. I was trying so hard to be straight. My parents…” I wave that mess off with a sigh. “I went to a party, got drunk off my ass, thought it would prove something if I slept with a girl-” I had to imagine the quarterback to get it up. “-and, naturally, I got her pregnant.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, the old memories prickling under my skin unpleasantly. Jess’s panic. My own. My parents’ reactions. Ugh.
“I thought my life was over,” I make myself continue. “Our parents forced us to be responsible. I manned up, Aiden was born just after Senior year ended. I was almost eighteen.”
I know I sound detached, but I can’t let myself go back to that time of my life in detail. I can’t. I’ll break if I do.
Still, a small smile tugs at my lips at the glimpse of memory I allow myself now. Tiny fingers and toes. Eyes like mine. Jess’s button nose. The panic ceasing for the briefest moment as I held him for the first time. “He was perfect. And I was fucking terrified, but somehow we made it work. Until college. Then things got hard.”
Charlie reaches across the table, gripping my forearm and squeezing it in a show of silent support. I take another mouthful of beer and steel myself for the worst part.
“I had a full-ride scholarship and had to take it. Unfortunately, it took me half-way across the country. Jess’s parents wouldn’t let her come with me, and I knew I’d never get custody while they were providing a roof over Jess’s and Aiden’s heads. So I worked my ass off at college, got a part-time job and sent them whatever cash I had, went back home for long weekends and holidays…” Away from my parents, I finally came out of the closet but didn’t date. I had too much going on. “Then, one day, I get hauled out of class by a pair of cops.”
I close my eyes, unwillingly picturing the moment as vividly as if it had just happened. It’s seared into my brain. The sympathy and sadness on the two guys’ faces as they guided me into an empty lecture hall and tore my world apart isn’t something I can ever erase.
“There’d been a car accident.” Despite my greatest attempts to prevent it, my throat still goes tight and tears blur my vision. “Jess and her parents died on impact. But Aiden…”
I try to clear my throat. To this day, sitting in hospitals makes me feel sick and panicky. The sterile scents, the beeping of machines, the wires and tubes, the eerie silences: I shudder at the thought.
When Charlie was shot, it was like I’d gone back in time. The worry of not knowing if the person you’re waiting on is going to come out the other side of the trauma… Well, if I hadn’t had Ash to look after when we’d been waiting on Charlie to recover, I honestly would have lost my mind. Of course, none of the guys know any of this.
“I got to say goodbye.” This last sentence is all I can manage to force out. I refuse to relive the rest. Thankfully, Charlie doesn’t push for more.
“Jesus,” he inhales, his face pale and wan.
Almost twenty-eight years later and, when I let myself focus, the pain is as sharp as ever. I swallow it back, reminding myself that accidents happen. There was nothing anyone could have done. It wasn’t my fault. Being there wouldn’t have changed anything.
His fist hitting the table hard enough to make our glasses tremble and rattle has me jerking back in surprise. “I hate that you never said anything.” His blue eyes are dark as he stares me down. “Not because I think I deserved to know, but because the idea of you suffering with this on your own…”
I don’t argue with him because I understand. The urge to support and care for his friends is part of what underpins his natural drive to the Daddy lifestyle.
Instead, I sigh. “I’ve been to countless therapy sessions. I’m in support groups for grieving parents. I’m not on my own in this. I just…I don’t want it spilling over into the life I built for myselfafter. My loss doesn’t define me. And, Charlie,” I add when it looks like he’s still going to push the issue, “I’m okay. I promise.”
And I am. Obviously, there will always be times that are harder than others, but I learned early on that if I didn’t push forward and focus on the good things in my life, nothing was ever going to work again. And, once I changed my motivations for seeking out Daddy role play from focusing on proving that I could nurture and support someone to embracing my natural desire to do so, it made stumbling into the lifestyle as a grieving twenty-year-old a little less weird.
As if he can read my mind, my friend sighs heavily and says, “You know that, if this thing between you and Zephyr gets serious, you’ll have to tell him.”
I reel back a little at that. I’ve never told any of my partners about Aiden. It’s not that I can’t see how itmightbe relevant, but I keep the two parts of my life completely separate. Before and After.
Reading my reluctance on my face, Charlie pushes it further. “If only to prevent a triggering event, or-”
I hold up my hand, interrupting him. “I see where you’re coming from,” I answer slowly. “But I’m asking you to drop it…and to keep this just between us.”
That last bit might be asking a lot, but I don’t want my relationship with the rest of our friendship circle changing, either. Still, I’m the one who taught Charlie about the importance of open and honest communication being paramount in a Daddy/little relationship (or, really, any relationship). I can tell he’s unimpressed at my request, but I don’t back down.
His lips thin as he purses them, and I can practically see him wanting to remind me of the things I’ve said before. However, I’ve been at this for almost three decades and, as far as I’m concerned, my past has never had an impact on the success or subsequent failures of my relationships to date.
“I know what I’m doing,” I insist. “I’m fine.”
And I really do believe that.
Chapter Ten – Zephyr
