You Are the Reason (16 page)

And the dry cleaning bill would be worth it.

As the shaking died down, I pressed tiny kisses to the area—his balls, now tender and sensitive. His skin damp with my saliva and his sweat. His cock, laying limp and cooling down. I pressed a kiss to the head of his dick and tasted come. I knew I shouldn’t—not without test results, but it was too tempting. I lapped up the last of the cream dribbling from his slit and swallowed it down.

“Dave?”

“Davo,” I corrected and regretfully pulled his underwear back up.

He chuckled and agreed. “Davo.”

“Good boy,” I complimented with a grin.

“No matter what your name, you there, at the end of my cock? You wanna bring that hard boy this way, and I’ll help you now?”

I was tempted. Oh, so tempted. But Lee knew me well when he said no sex. I crawled over his prone body until I could kiss his mouth, allowing my weight to rest only for a moment on his.

“I would love that, but I’m going to decline. This hard boy is just gonna wait for the second date. I’ve heard anticipation is a great aphrodisiac.”

He kissed me back and giggled against my mouth. “Davo? I don’t think you’ll be needing aphrodisiacs anytime soon. You don’t seem to be having any trouble getting an erection.”

With Lee around, I had to concede that was right.

S
UNDAY
MORNING
I found Mr. Magic 8 Ball at the bottom of the laundry hamper.

“I think that was a great first date, don’t you?” I asked him. Then I turned him up.

Signs point to yes.

I smiled happily. Mr. Magic 8 Ball was never wrong. I turned him back and asked the next question.

“Should I go and visit my parents?”

Most likely.

I frowned. Mr. Magic 8 Ball was never wrong, after all.

I drove to their house and let myself in through the side door. “Mum? It’s me,” I called as I entered.

“Which me?” she called from the back of the house. My old bedroom had been turned into her craft room, and most days she could be found there. And also asking “which me” was a little silly. Josh was over in Queensland and wouldn’t be dropping by unannounced. And from the dull bass beat coming from Cole’s room, he wouldn’t be calling out either. So what other son would be calling out “Mum? It’s me”?

“Dave, Mum.”

I made for the craft room, and she smiled at me happily from behind her sewing machine. “Hi, love. Dad’s gone to Bunnings, so I’m not sure how long he’ll be gone. Put the kettle on, and I’ll just finish this hem.”

“Okay.”

I retreated before the girly activity of sewing could infect me. No sense in tempting fate. I might get fascinated with what Mum was doing and end up wearing a homemade pink chenille shirt.

Chenille is a material type, isn’t it?

I knocked on Cole’s door and stuck my head in. “Hey, man.”

For a boy, his room was abnormally neat. I was glad to see the seminaked women on the posters gracing his walls. Of course, he could be pretending, but I really hoped my brothers wouldn’t have to go through the coming-out shit I went through. Being straight seemed a lot easier. Cole was sitting at his desk with a bunch of mechanical bits. He was a robot freak. He bought robotics kits and souped them up.

“What are you building?”

“My model got trashed at the last Robotics War meeting,” he told me with a look of disgust. “Malcolm put a hammer design on his and beat us all. I’m trying to rebuild her stronger, so she can withstand the force of the hammer. But it’s making her too heavy.”

I sat down and looked at the model. There were technical drawings scattered around, showing me that this was not merely a by-the-instructions build. This was serious. The robots were purpose built, designed, and created from scratch.

“Instead of building solid, how about you build smarter? Airbags or something similar that could take the impact?”

Cole’s eyes lit up. “Gel packs,” he exclaimed.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he’d already grabbed out his laptop and was googling some shit. I ruffled his hair, shut the door behind me, and made for the kitchen. If Dad was at Bunnings, I had no idea how long he’d be there.

Bunnings was a DIY guy’s dream. I had been there and been lost for hours, looking at all the stuff I could make. You always went in for a new tap washer and came out with $400 worth of bathroom renovations. I was a little upset that I hadn’t arrived earlier. I could’ve gone with Dad.

I pulled out two mugs and searched the kitchen for the coffee and teabags. Each time I came over, they were in a different place. I finally spotted them and pulled them out. I chucked in a teabag for Mum and scooped coffee for me. Mum wandered into the kitchen and gave me a quick hug as she walked by.

“Hello, my son. How have you been? I thought you’d up and joined the army or something.”

It was a standard joke. If Mum didn’t see us for a week, we’d obviously up and joined the Army because that was why she didn’t see Josh.

“Just been busy,” I replied as I poured the boiling water in. She pulled out the biscuits and placed them on the table. I stirred our drinks, brought them over, and took the seat opposite. “Do you want to know what I did on Friday night? I could give you a hundred guesses, and you’ll not even be close.”

Mum smiled. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “Do I
want
to know?”

I chuckled. “I babysat a baby.”

I knew that would get Mum, and her mouth fell open in disbelief. “No.”

“Yep.”

“Whose baby?”

“Jake’s. Didn’t I tell you he has the baby now?”

Mum’s eyes lit up. “No, you didn’t tell me. Is it a boy or a girl? I knew the baby was due soon, but you didn’t let me know it was born. And
you
babysat?”

My whole body relaxed, and I found myself smiling as I told my mother. “A girl. They called her Maxine—which is after Patrick’s father, Max. She’s tiny, Mum. Just tiny. And Jake always insists on dressing her in pink and flowers. I mean—c’mon. That’s stereotyping, isn’t it? Just because she’s a girl, it doesn’t mean she has to dress like a girl. And she’s got these blue-gray eyes that follow you around. And her head’s all wobbly so you have to hold it when you talk to her, and she listens really well, Mum. I mean, she’s only little, but she listens. And when you hold her, she curls up in this little position with her legs up, which can be uncomfortable to you when they stick in your stomach, but she doesn’t seem to mind. And when you feed her a bottle, she sucks so hard, as if she’s been denied food for weeks. Then when she gets about halfway through, she slows down, and her eyes get all sleepy. But don’t try and take the bottle off her. Oh, no. I tried that, and she screamed the place down.”

I didn’t realize I was monologing because Mum was nodding and smiling at me.

“Then, after she finishes her bottle, she lays there for a bit. And then the most grossest, terriblest, awfulest thing happens. Oh, man. It comes out the other end. And I know this because I was over there on Friday, and Jake was nearly asleep on his feet because she didn’t want to be put down, so I offered to hold her for an hour or two so he could sleep, and the hour or two ended up to be twelve hours. So I had to change this monster of a shitty nappy. And I panicked like crazy, Mum. But luckily Lee rang me, and I told him to come over quick and help me, and he turned out to be a whiz at changing nappies. He helped me and then stayed with me for most of the night and….”

I trailed off.
Shite.

There was an odd look on Mum’s face, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of the last three minutes of her life. I didn’t know what to make of it either. Had I really
gushed
? Like a
girl
?

I stopped.
Like a girl?
You know, I really was a dick. Here was I telling Jake not to dress his daughter in pink just because she’s a girl and that’s stereotyping. Yet here I was telling myself not to “act like a girl.” It was stereotyping too.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

What goes around, comes around.

You reap what you sow.

Oh, yes. There were a hundred sayings about being a hypocrite, maybe because we all do it.

“It sounds like this little baby has already made a conquest of my son.” Mum’s voice butted into my internal musings. I blushed, because what she said was true.

“I’m gonna be her uncle, Mum,” I said proudly. “Uncle Dave. It doesn’t look like Caroline’s going to give me any nephews and nieces anytime soon. Josh is busy in the army, and Cole’s way too young, so I’m going to have to find someone else to call me uncle.”

There was a sheen in my mother’s eyes, which I didn’t understand. She sniffed. “How about I make something pretty for the baby, and you can give it to Jake as a gift?” she offered. “Something nice and pretty, but not pink.”

I was warmed by the offer and struck by the thought that maybe my mother was looking forward to grandchildren. I felt a bit sad for her. They wouldn’t be coming from me.

“That would be great, Mum.”

She sniffed again, and I took a step onto rocky ground. Ground that I usually avoided like mad. Ground that was full of potholes and thorny brambles, ready to trip and hurt an unwary person. Ground that was aptly named the “How Are You Feeling?” labyrinth of emotions. A man could get trapped there for hours. “Are you okay? Did I say something?”

Mum blinked with greater frequency and then leaned over and grasped my arm. “Oh, love. Something’s happened to you, and I don’t know what it is. But I can see it. You’re coming to realize there’s a whole world out there you haven’t considered. A world that you thought had been cut off from you when you realized you were gay. Being gay doesn’t mean you can’t have it all. So, I’m going to leave you with this point to ponder, and perhaps we can discuss it another day.” She squeezed my hand and looked straight into my eyes. “You say you’re going to find someone to call you uncle. That’s a great thing. But perhaps, maybe you should also be looking for someone to call you husband, and one day someone to call you daddy?”

I drew back in surprise and shock. “Mum. I’m gay. I’m not going looking for a wife. I can’t change the gay bit inside me.” I couldn’t believe that, after all this time, my mother was still hoping I would “turn straight.”

She smiled sadly. “Who said anything about a wife? Isn’t Jake gay?”

My father, the king of timing, shuffled in the door then, weighed down by boxes and bags from his shopping trip. It thankfully meant I didn’t need to answer my mother as I dashed to relieve Dad of his load.

“Thanks, Davo,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. Your mother wants a trellis built on the side fence with an archway and a fountain. C’mon. You can come and help. Cole’s useless with anything that requires a hammer and saw. If the dishwasher was broken, he’s your man, but I wouldn’t let him near my drill unless I had the ambulance on standby.”

So I spent the afternoon helping Dad—and it only took two more trips to Bunnings for forgotten bits. By dinnertime, we had a pretty good fountain and trellis built. Dad’s chatter kept my mind off things, and it wasn’t until I was in my car, driving home, that I thought about Mum’s words.

Husband
. Oh my.

L
EE
AND
I exchanged texts daily. Anything from
Do you know the definition of an idiot? It’s the guy in the car in front of me
to
How was your day at work?
We lined up Saturday for date number two and ran up our phone bills deciding where to go. I didn’t want to go clubbing, and Lee didn’t want to go pubbing. Another restaurant was a good idea, but we couldn’t decide where. Lee suggested a movie, but there was nothing good on.

In the end, we settled on a night at the casino. A meal and then a couple of hours at the tables was the plan.

I don’t know how to play roulette
, Lee confessed over the text.
I mean, I get the concept of the game, but how do I bet?