Page 44 of Napkins and Other Distractions
I let out a long exhale, unsure what any of this means for me. For us. Not that Vincent and I are anus.
“Sides don’t like”—she lowers her voice to a whisper and nods to the birds—“penetrative anal sex. With a dick.” Heat rushes to my face, and I close my eyes, knowing Ruth wants to help. “Some enjoy a finger or rimming, that’s a tongue. Many will do almost everything else. Oral. You’ve done that already.” She sticks her index finger in her mouth and pops it. “Toy play. You could explore some light bondage. Maybe a harness,” she says, squeezing my shoulders. “You could totally pull off a leather harness.”
My mind treads water, trying to stay afloat. “Wait, rimming?”
“Kent Lester. Do we need to have another pizza and wine sleepover, so I explain the ins and outs of gay sex?”
“Maybe?”
“Here’s what I’ll tell you,” she says, patting my arm. “Most people define traditional penetration as the standard for sex. But that’s a heteronormative construct. As queer people, we get to buck that patriarchal bullshit. Sex acts are sex. Full stop.”
I nod slowly, trying to take it all in.
“The important thing is communication. Ask him what he wants. Likes. Tell him what you want. And then do it.”
Maybe all this side business is a sign that the mishigas with Vincent was a foolish mistake. I enjoy his company … and the kissing. But maybe it’s more complicated than I thought. Although, what we’ve done so far has been some of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. Do I really care about him being a side? Labels are for soup cans. Vincent’s soft skin. His beautiful eyes focused on his laptop as he types away. In my office. Working together. The implementation. My job counts on this working and proving how amazing Lear staff and students truly are. I’ve been on my own for years now. Me and Sweetums. There’s no reason to muck it up.
“What a good morning you’ve had, Brodie,” I say.
Standing at my door with Sheldon, Brodie can’t conceal the bashful grin sketched on his face.
“Yup. He’s been listening, staying safe,” Sheldon says. “He got frustrated during phonics and went to his table spot independently.”
“Brodie, wow. You should feel proud.” I rest my hand on his shoulder.
“The cafeteria is a little loud today,” Sheldon says. “I offered him headphones, but he didn’t want them, and he asked if he could eat with Theo or you, and well, Mr. Berenson is busy.” He pops an eyebrow, and I guess these boys are spending lunches together.
“Brodie, I would love for you to eat here,” I say. “I’m just working with Mr. Manda, but I’m getting hungry myself.”
I nod to the table where Vincent sits, tapping away on his laptop.
“Mr. Manda, why don’t we break and join Brodie for lunch? Sound good?”
Vincent’s eyes finally land on us, and he’s blinking profusely. I know children aren’t his favorite, but this is only one child. Having lunch with Brodie is super chill. And I’m here.
Brodie approaches, carrying his dinosaur lunch bag, and without caring about personal space, pulls his chair inches from Vincent and starts unpacking his lunch.
“Sure,” Vincent says with a complete lack of enthusiasm. “I just need to … ” he stammers, folding his laptop, holding his hands up, and heading for the bathroom.
With my brown bag retrieved from the bottom of my desk drawer, I join Brodie and offer him a squirt of hand sanitizer before using it myself.
“What’s for lunch today?” I ask.
Brodie holds up a sandwich, and I push my glasses up and move closer to inspect its contents.
“Ah, cheese and … mayonnaise?” He nods and takes a huge bite. “A classic. One of my favorites.”
Removing my sandwich from the bag, I show him. “Peanut butter and jelly. You’re not allergic?”
Brodie shakes his head, and we eat in silence. Since he started kindergarten, I’ve spent my fair share of time with Brodie, and one thing I know—above all else, he prefers silence. While he may not talk much, he’s always watching, taking the world in, observing, analyzing, and reacting in his own unique way. Kindergarten, where there’s more play and exploration, suited him better, and his transition to first grade has been … challenging.
“All set,” Vincent says, returning to his seat and taking his lunch box out. It’s stainless steel and sparkles under the bright lights.
Brodie pauses his chewing and stares at Vincent.
“What’s wrong?” Vincent asks.
Brodie nods toward Vincent’s lunch box.
