Page 73 of One
“His name made you regress from the small progress we were making. Then, after a while, you seemed fine on your own. Couldn’t risk that,” Linda says.
“Until lately,” Meg breathes out. “I saw the change in you, Raphael. You were bored, unsettled, looking for something. I was afraid you’d get fixed on the wrong thing.”
I remember the weird comment she made about her son and my suggestion to find him a hobby.
“And Michael, you just seemed lost. I made you move to Chicago to have you closer. I came to the hospital the day I met you to introduce myself and then invite you to my home to meet the others. Maybe using an excuse at first, but to make you feel at ease with us. And after a while, I’d have told you the whole truth. But the moment I saw you, I… was mesmerized by you. You are such a good person, Michael. And you did it all on your own, despite what your adopted parents… And it was selfish of me, but I wanted to know you better,” Meg finishes.
Her words make my heart bleed. The memories of our Fridays together shuffle inside my head, and a part of me understands her actions.
“Twenty years, Meg. Fucking twenty years! Wasted,” Raph growls, but the hardness in his voice has softened slightly.
“We’re together now. That’s all that matters,” I whisper against his neck, deciding there and then to leave all of it behind. Because if my job has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no point in wasting precious time. In a blink of an eye it’s gone. Can’t rewind and get it back.
“I’m sorry.” Linda means it this time; I can hear the remorse in her voice.
Raph groans, flexing his hand around the phone, and grabbing my thigh with the other in a death grip.
“It’s done. Let it go,” I say softly in his ear, resuming peppering his neck with slow kisses.
“We need time to… process all this,” I tell both Linda and Meg. “Just give us a few days to think.”
“I’m here,” Meg murmurs.
“Take all the time you want,” Linda replies. “And Michael, I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
Raph hangs up the call, and I let out a long sigh.
“Fuck.”
“My thought exactly,” I tell him against his skin. I feel a bit lighter after talking to them. I’m still deeply upset, but I know this is the start of a new chapter. An understanding and forgiving one.
“I can’t let go that easily,” he says after a while.
“Nothing easy about it. Let’s try to enjoy the present and think less about the past, though.”
“You’re here.” He sinks his hand into my hair and holds tight.
“I’m here.” I wiggle on his lap. His cock is justifiably soft, but I can work on that. He needs to be reminded that us being together is the only important thing.
But Raph’s phone starts ringing—yet again interrupting us—and I have just enough time to see Rami’s name before he snatches it up from the sofa and lifts it close to his ear.
“What?” he answers in a bored tone.
After a few seconds of listening, he shifts his body, sliding me gently down on the leather cushion as he stands.
“Wait,” he says to me, or maybe Rami.
The phone call seems serious, even more so when Raph disappears inside his bedroom, looking for privacy. From me. It stings that he still feels the need for it. My rational side is telling me to back off. But what could he possibly say to Rami that I can’t hear? Something related to work, maybe?
My head is too crowded with flashes of the conversation I just had with Linda and Meg. I can’t think properly. I don’t really want to; I feel drained. My eyes fall on the chips on the table, and I find myself considering if eating something is a good idea. Decision made, I walk to the fridge and find it empty, apart from a jar of mayo and a stick of butter.
I need something to wash the sour cream and onion chips’ flavor down, and water won’t do. I glance at the round minimalist clock on the kitchen wall. Eleven o’clock. The incredibly pricy store a couple of blocks down is open until midnight; I can go quickly and get a bottle of soda.
After writing a short note to Raph, I slip my shoes on and grab my jacket before heading toward the elevator. I could knock on his door and tell him I’m going out. But his Houdini act says it all—he clearly doesn’t want to be disturbed. And it fucking ticks me off. I need some fresh air to clear my mind. My emotions are too raw, and I don’t want to come across as spiteful.
The night guard greets me from behind the large desk in the lobby. I wave back without stopping. Outside the air is cool when I start walking. Cars pass by and the mild weather invites people to walk on the well-lit street. I reach the store and quickly buy the soda. Taking a shortcut on the way back, I turn into an alley. I suddenly feel eyes on me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I quicken my steps. The narrow passage is poorly illuminated compared to the main street, but I can clearly hear footsteps behind me. My heart starts beating furiously inside my chest and fear twists around my spine, gripping tightly. When I reach the two big dumpsters almost at the end of the alley, a hand grabs my shoulder and I’m spun forcefully around. The plastic bag with the soda flies somewhere while I’m pushed hard against the brick wall.
