You Are the Reason (6 page)

“So you’ve never been with a girl?”

“Nope. Why? Have you?”

I wrinkled my nose and cut another slice of pancake. “Not really. Only a couple of BJs. But there’s this girl I met and… well, I think I like her, Jake.”

Jake stopped. “Like her as in
I’d like to fuck her
like her?”

That was my Jake—called a spade a spade.

I swallowed with difficulty around my mouthful of food. “Yes.”

“Why?” Jake sounded perplexed. I didn’t bother to hide my confusion either.

“I know. That’s why I don’t understand it.”

“Does she have great tits or something?”

I laughed. “I don’t even remember. See, that’s the confusing bit. We were making out last night in my van—”

“Whoa. You made out with a chick?”

I ignored him. “And in the dark I couldn’t even remember what her breasts were like. I didn’t notice them in the pub.”

“What did you notice about her, then?”

I placed my cutlery on the table as I felt a smile of happiness steal across my face. “Her hair. It’s bright red, but dark. You know—like a cherry? Not orangey. And she has these sweet little lips that are all pouty. And her skin is clear and her eyes are bright and we can talk for ages—”

“Whoa.” This time his exclamation was louder, and I stopped.

“What?”

“You
do
like her. You had her in your van?”

I blushed. Men shouldn’t really talk about ladies in this manner, but this was Jake. “Yeah. BJ.”

“What’s her name?”

“Lee Brennan.”

“What’s the name of the last guy who sucked you off before last night?”

I blushed harder. “Well, that was actually Lee as well. Last Saturday.”

Jake gave me a considering look. “And the time before that?”

“Just some guy at Connections when I went there with some people.”

“And the time before that?”

I struggled to recall, but could only vaguely picture the man. “An older guy who was at the café I went to after work. I don’t know his name.”

“And the time before that?”

I screwed up my face and tried to remember who was before that. “The big, blond guy at The Tav. He’s a regular. You know him? Umm… snake tattoo on his neck, wears those bright red boots?”

I’m sure Jake knew his name because Jake’s like that, but he didn’t answer my question. He stared at me in shock. “Do you mean to tell me, you can’t remember the first names of the three guys before Lee, yet you can remember her first
and
last name?”

My mouth turned down in humiliation. “Yes. Shit, Jake. Am I straight?”

Being straight was the ultimate horror. What would people say about me? Would I be shunned? What would Dad say?

“I really don’t know, Davo,” Jake said, still looking surprised. “I’ve seen the amount of guys you’ve been with. There’s no way in the world you’re straight. But perhaps you’re bi?”

I took a mouthful of coffee. “I don’t think so. I mean, last night we were fooling around and I couldn’t make myself touch her… you know. I didn’t know what to do or think. She turns me on, and I love talking to her, but if I can’t touch her sexually, then what does that mean?”

“Have you had your head scanned lately for brain tumors?” he asked in all seriousness.

I flipped him the bird. “C’mon, Jake. What should I do?”

“Do you have to do anything?”

“What do you mean?”

Jake drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I mean that Patrick’s trying to teach me how to not say the first thing in my head, so this is really hard, Davo. Patrick will kill me if he hears me say something like this, but it’s not like you’re going to date her or anything, is it? You haven’t been on a date in years. You’re the fuck ’em and leave ’em type.”

A muted roar came from the bedroom. “Jacob Manning. I heard that. What did we say about language around our daughter?”

Jake jumped and turned toward the hallway. “Ears like a fuckin’ bat,” he muttered. He stretched his neck and peered into the bassinette. “She’s not even awake.”

Patrick’s voice filtered through. “I don’t care if she’s awake or not. You don’t say the f-word around her anymore. We need to practice restraint so that her first word won’t be ‘fuck.’”

Jake smiled and called back. “You just said ‘fuck.’”

“So did you.” Patrick’s voice was muffled by several walls, but he obviously could hear our conversation.

I laughed as Jake mouthed the forbidden word over and over, then winked at me. He called back, “You need coffee, Patti-cake?”

“Fuck, yes” was the groan in reply, and I laughed.

Jake got up, poured another coffee, and took it in, leaving me alone with the sleeping baby.

I ruminated over Jake’s comment. It was true I was the fuck ’em and leave ’em type, but only because I wasn’t ready for a relationship. These days, with gay marriage being bandied around, it seemed that every second gay guy wanted to settle down in domestic bliss.

I wasn’t against living together with someone I really liked, and I could see the advantage of it. I would have available sex, companionship, and someone to kick back with. I would no longer need to trawl the clubs and pubs for sex. I would have familiarity and acceptance, so I wouldn’t have to look my best every single time I stepped out of the house in case an opportunity to fuck came up.

But at the same time, I could also envision heated discussions over whose turn it was to empty the rubbish bin and whether the carpet needed vacuuming. Visits to the in-laws. Anniversaries and birthdays to remember. Fights over bills and money.

I didn’t need that sort of crap in my life.

But, I reminded myself, calling Lee and perhaps setting up a date was a long way from living together. What did I have to lose?

In truth, despite her being a woman and me being gay, Lee actually gave me a better orgasm than I’d had in a long time. Perhaps I was straight, after all? There was only one way to find out.

A little squawk came from the direction of bassinette, and I stood to check the baby. She was awake again, turning her head back and forth, rubbing her cheek against the blanket she was wrapped in.

“Well, hello, sweet pea,” I crooned softly to her. “I can see why your daddy’s tired. That was a tiny catnap if ever there was one. What are you doing awake again?”

She turned, looking for the voice and opening her mouth in a way that reminded me of a goldfish blowing bubbles.

“What do you think I should do, Maxine?” I asked her. I had come to Jake’s house for advice, so I might as well poll the population. “Should I ask Lee on a date? Or should we meet up for drinks and take the pressure off?”

Maxine gave a little cry, and I panicked a bit. Where was Jake?

“Jake? Jake. Your baby’s awake.”

There was no answer from the hallway, and I froze. He wouldn’t have left me with the baby while he went in the bedroom and…?

“Jake!”

The voice floated back my way. “I’ll be… there… one minute.”

Fuck.
He would.

I looked back at Maxine, who was starting to pump her little arms in frustration. “Jake, your daughter’s starting to cry,” I called in warning.

“Pick… her up.”

Pick her up?
Oh, shit. That sounded so easy, but it was a minefield of problems. What if I squeezed her too hard? What if she threw up on me? What if there was smelly stuff coming out the other end? What could I do?

“Patrick?” I yelled a little desperately. “Come and help a mate, please.”

There was no answer.

“Patrick?”

Jake’s voice came back on a breathy whisper. “Patrick’s… busy.”

I had half a mind to storm into that bedroom and yell at my friends, but that would mean leaving Maxine all alone in the kitchen. What if she choked on something while I was yelling at her daddies for getting their freak on? What if someone broke into the house and stole her? What if there were an explosion?

I was in charge of this baby, and it was up to me to protect her. Trying not to think too much about it, I scooped her up, keeping one hand under her head and another under her bottom. She was crying in earnest, but lowered the volume and opened her eyes when she felt me pick her up. I lifted her, held her in mid-air for a moment, drew her to my body, and rested her on my chest. I awkwardly patted her back, hoping I wasn’t breaking a small delicate rib with each whisper touch of my hand.

I was going to kill Jake for putting me in this situation.

Her crying lessened, but she was still grizzling, so I tried rocking side-to-side like I’d seen mothers do. The volume went down another notch, and I felt brave enough to try a little forward step.

By the time Patrick and Jake emerged from the bedroom with sheepish looks on their faces, I was gingerly pacing the length of the kitchen, patting Maxine’s back and humming a tune. I figured that Maxine wouldn’t know it was an old Green Day song.

I glared at my friends. “Did you have fun?” I asked snappishly.

Patrick rubbed at his jaw and didn’t reply, but Jake grinned through his embarrassment. “Actually, yes. Thank you for asking.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Don’t do it again.”

“What?” Jake asked. “Don’t have sex while we have visitors in the house? Or don’t leave you alone with a sleeping baby?”

“She wasn’t sleeping,” I growled. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Patrick gave me a sympathetic pat on the back as he made for the
coffeemaker. Jake raised his eyebrows. “She was sleeping when I left the room, and now she’s sleeping on your chest. Where’s the problem?”

I was startled. “She’s sleeping?” I craned my neck to try and see her face, and sure enough, she was sound asleep, and her little rosebud mouth pouted. When did that happen?

“You have the magic touch, Davo,” Patrick said as he pressed buttons on the machine. “You don’t happen to need a place to stay, do you? I hear the midnight to five a.m. shift for babysitting Maxine is open if you want it.”

The problem with Patrick being blind was you couldn’t tell him to fuck off using a look or hand gesture. And I didn’t want to say the words because Patrick was obviously against using that sort of language around his baby. And I also couldn’t whack him because both of my hands were occupied with his daughter.

I decided to make my point in a different way. I stalked over to the kitchen table and bumped it with my hip, sending it skidding across the floor by about six inches. Patrick’s head whipped around at the sound, and his face showed shock that I would do such a thing.

Yes—I had listened to my friend whine about the need to have all the furniture in the house lined up to its exact point so that the blind man was not hitting his shins all the time. Jake got the joke and laughed, casually restoring the table to its place, according to the discreet strips on the floor.

“Settle, you two. Davo, please don’t move the furniture around. I like my man without the bruising. Patrick, give Davo a break. If, by chance, Maxine does sleep after midnight, I have other plans for you that Davo would ruin by being in the same house.”

Patrick was still looking upset. “Did he just deliberately move that so that I would—?”

“Yes,” Jake answered. “It’s called teasing, and friends do it all the time. It’s okay. It’s a sign of affection.”

“Affection, my arse,” Patrick muttered as he filled his mug with coffee.

Jake chortled and came over, bringing his own mug. I watched as Jake patted him on the rump. The love between the two of them was obvious. “And if he
does
have any affection for your arse, Patti-cake, then we don’t speak of it.”

Jake kissed Patrick on his chin and rescued me by taking the baby out of my arms. I was so relieved. It was like I’d just run a marathon. My arms were aching and I felt as if I had been holding my breath for hours. I dropped back into my chair with a huge sigh of relief and scooped up the last of my pancakes with my fingers.

I peered out of the corner of my eye, trying not to stare as I observed Patrick come up behind Jake. With one hand he encircled Jake’s waist, and with the other he cupped Maxine’s head where she rested on Jake’s shoulder, amazing me with the accuracy of his touch. Even blind, he knew exactly where the two most precious objects in his life were. I found myself envying them.

Love.

Maxine was only four weeks old, and yet I could no longer picture either man without her. She’d completed the family unit like she’d been created simply to fill the space. Together they were an equilateral triangle—each side bonded to the other with equal strength, no one bond larger or smaller than the other. And together they were the strongest shape known.

Suddenly I realized what all the fuss was about. Imagine coming home each night from work to
that
. Not the sex, not the companionship.
That
.

And
that
was strong enough to weather any petty fights about money or whose turn it was to take out the rubbish bin.

W
ITH
M
AXINE
resettled in her bassinette, Jake fussed around the kitchen and whipped us all up another batch of pancakes. I told Patrick about Lee, not seeing any reason to hide it, especially since I knew that Jake would tell him all about it once I was gone anyway.