Page 110 of Catcher's Lock
Gem’s progress is especially apparent in the tent as we work to build the show and the last few performers trickle in from various parts of the globe. To no one’s surprise but his own, they all adore Gem, and as the days pass and he finds his place in the chaos of set building and act refinement, they start to respect him too.
With his family, it’s more complicated. Shilo is trying her best to repair a lifetime of subtle expectation with actual encouragement, drawing him into discussions with Oscar to plot the third act and making sure to invite him to run-throughs. The first time she asked Gem to share his notes after a rehearsal, his shy excitement on the way home had me sucking him off in thedriveway, dying to snatch a taste of his pride.
Hals, always quick to forgive and steady in his affections, greeted his son with a whispered “Welcome home” and a hug that lasted long enough to make my eyes burn, and left it at that. Since then, he’s done his best to act like Gem never left, slipping easily into their old banter and avoiding any heavy conversations. But I notice the way his gaze tracks his son around the tent, along with the hope-tinged worry he tries to hide.
Milla has been the hardest to win over, and in her defense, Gem doesn’t quite know how to handle his reunion with his sister either. After she made a few snarky comments in front of the crew, Shilo took her aside and convinced her to play nice in public, but she’s blatantly avoiding any chance of being alone with her older brother. By unspoken consensus that Gem has enough on his plate and Milla is justified in her caution, none of us force the issue.
Gem still has trouble sleeping, and twice, he’s woken me up before dawn to load up our boards and head down to the beach. He’s confessed to more than one relapse dream and the guilty mix of horror and euphoria that accompanies them.
The pre-tour frenzy is in full swing, both of us perennially exhausted, but I’m careful to guard Gem’s fledgling sobriety as best I can. I make sure we return to the trailer each night with time for a meal and a shower before we tumble into bed to continue our exploration of each other’s bodies. Aside from the fact that we can’t keep our hands off each other, it keeps him away from the parties that take over the lot when rehearsals are done and the crew seeks to unwind.
Tonight is our last evening off—tomorrow, we start tearing down the tent and loading everything onto the flatbed and into the trucks. Two nights from now, Gem and I will be crammed into the loft above the ticket wagon, bedding down in a newtown every week.
“So.” Gem tosses me the damp dish towel and tucks his dick back into his pants. “Where is this date with Echo supposed to happen, anyway?”
“It’s not adate. He’s fucking engaged and completely obsessed with Byrd. And in case the pre-dinner hand job didn’t give it away,I’mcompletely obsessed withyou. A fact of which Echo is more than aware.”
He pops his barbell with a cocky grin—the move that means he’s fucking with me and enjoying the hell out of my reaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“We haven’t confirmed a plan yet.” I turn to the sink to wash my hands before grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard.
“You’re being cagey,” he says, coming to lean against the counter and fixing me with a knowing look. “Let me guess—he wants to hit a bar?”
“He might have mentioned something about pool at Dick’s,” I admit.
“Echo plays pool?”
“Not really. But he likes making jokes about sticks and balls.”
Gem rolls his eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“Because of me? I’ll have you know I became quite the pool shark while I was away. I bet I can give you a run for your money now.”
“You know that’s not the problem.”
“Sure. The problem is you think I won’t be able to handle being around all those bad influences.”
“Will you?”
“I won’t know until I try.”
“I don’t want to set you up to fail, and I don’t want to worry all night about how you’re handling things or what you’re doingevery time you go to the bathroom.”
“Thendon’t worry. It’s not your job to keep me sober.”
He’s right. It’s one of the things they talk about in Al-Anon—powerless over alcohol means powerless to change or “fix” the addicts in my life. It’s all about setting boundaries and focusing on myself.
I’ve been to three more meetings, and I even managed to share a little at the last one—mostly about my dad. Seeing Gem fight so hard to conquer his demons stirs up a baffling mix of grief, resentment, and sorrow that I’m finally trying to unravel. Gem isn’t the only one with a complicated family history, and it’s only fair to tackle the healing process together. So how do I know if this is a hard limit for me, or if I’m overstepping?
“Hey,” he says, reaching up to cup my cheek and forcing me to meet his eyes. “You’ve called me on my shit since the beginning, and I love that about you, even when it’s hard to hear. Don’t start treating me with kid gloves now. I get enough of that from my dad and the Big Top crew.”
“If you say you can do this, I want to trust you. But you gotta promise to let me know if you start feeling like your sobriety is in danger. We can leave anytime and come straight home. I’d rather avoid any disasters than have to ‘call you on your shit’ after the fact.”
“I know.” He stretches up to plant a smacking kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”
I shoot Echo a text while Gem assembles the sandwiches, unbothered by the now slightly soggy chicken.
