Tied in Knots: A Tied Together Novella (6 page)

His father—it had to be.

My hands shook as I picked up the letter. As far as I knew, Brandon didn’t have any connections left in Iowa with the exception of his parents, whom he wanted nothing to do with. The handwriting looked feminine. I turned the envelope over and saw that it had already been opened.

Steve Buscemi:
Go ahead and open it, fucknut. What are you waiting for?

Brad Pitt:
Don’t open it! It’s none of our business. That’s Brandon’s property.

Steve Buscemi:
What? Brandon’s our property; therefore, it automatically makes the letter our property, too.

Brad Pitt:
Brandon isn’t our property. He’s his own person and deserves to have his privacy.

Steven Buscemi:
Our dick has been in his ass, and we’ve squirted our love juice into him multiple times. He’s got as much of our DNA in him as we do. He’s our property.

I took out the letter and started to read it, ignoring the good conscience Brad Pitt whispered in my ear. With every word in the letter, my stomach twisted and turned, causing me to get angrier. I don’t know why I listened to my bad conscience because it never ended well.

Brad Pitt:
See; now look at what you’ve done.

Steve Buscemi:
I made popcorn; sit with me as we watch the shit hit the fan.

I
stood
at the window of my office, facing the busy streets of Chicago. Bright street lights shone down on the people who hustled along the sidewalks, and horns blared from cars fighting their way through city gridlock. I spotted a man trying to hail a cab, and I was instantly jealous of him. Was he on his way home to his family? Did his wife, girlfriend, or lover have a hot meal waiting for him on the table?

I realized I was the only person to blame for what I was doing to myself. I was immersing myself in work because I didn’t want to deal with the issue of my mother and her plea to see me. I wanted to go home and explain it all to Ryan, but I was worried about what he’d say and how he’d react. I didn’t have a picture-perfect childhood like he did, and I questioned if he would understand the push and pull of feelings that I had.

I sat at my desk and pulled up the contacts on my phone. It had been a year since I’d seen my old therapist, Dr. Fredricks. He and I went all the way back to when I was I was a premed student; he’d been essential in my support system when I finally decided to come out. Over the years, we had always remained in contact and he would happily see me whenever I needed. He referred to it as getting a tune up. Last year I saw him after I had a few stressful months at work dealing with the departure of the doctor with whom I had shared my practice. I found the number I was looking for a hit the dial key.

“This is Dr. Fredricks,” he answered, his smooth baritone voice filling my ear. The sound was calming, reminding me of the years he had been there for me, even during my darkest times of having to relive my father’s abuse.

“Hey, doc, it’s Brandon.”

“Well, if it isn’t the very busy obstetrician. You don’t write. You don’t call.” I could hear the smile behind his teasing.

“Maybe that’s because every time I call, it costs me money,” I teased back.

“That you’d have to pick up with your insurance company. It’s good to hear from you, Brandon. What’s new? How’s that husband and beautiful son of yours?”

“They’re great. Ethan is growing like a weed. Before I know it, he’ll be six feet, married, and have kids of his own.”

Dr. Fredricks laughed. “It does go fast—no question there. And how’s Ryan?”

“Ryan is fantastic. He’s an amazing father.” I paused, letting the guilt of my and Ryan’s problems sink in. Even though Dr. Fredricks had been with me a long time, it never got easier when he saw cracks in the armor I tried so hard to build.

“It doesn’t take my doctor degree to tell me there’s a
but
in there somewhere.”

“Can’t I just be calling you to shoot the shit?” I asked.

“You could, and I would be thrilled. But it’s eight o’clock on a Tuesday evening, so my Spidey sense tells me there’s more to it.”

I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. “I got a letter from my mom. She has cancer, and they haven’t given her much more time. She asked if we could meet so she could clear her conscious of all the wrong she’s done in her life.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Fredricks paused for a moment. “How much of that last sentence is real and how much is what you self-interpreted.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed my hand through my hair. “The cancer, her dying, and wanting to see me are true. The part about resolving her guilt so she can die in peace might have been stretched a bit.”

“It’s certainly a lot to take in, especially with your history. What did Ryan say?”

I looked at the picture of Ryan, Ethan, and me on my desk. We were at Navy Pier, riding the Ferris wheel last March. All three of us had big smiles, not giving a shit about anything else in the world except for being together at that minute. I focused on Ryan, and my heart ached. I knew that this man would do anything for me and for our family. And I’d been a complete asshole, too scared to come to terms with my own feelings.

“I haven’t told him.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t?”

“I’m scared he won’t understand what I’m feeling. I’m so torn about it because she’s my mother and I should love her. Ryan’s reaction when my family has been brought up hasn’t exactly been positive.”

“Have you ever discussed how you feel about that with Ryan?”

“Doc, this is
Ryan
. He has a flare for the dramatic and a tendency to see things only one way. He’s always been vocal about how he feels about my past; knowing this will only make it intolerable for him. Ryan and I have gone through a lot together and have learned to compromise on things. But this is one thing that always remains a point of contention. I want to hate my parents; what they did was detestable. But I have an internal conflict because as a child, I thought they were the only ones who were supposed to protect me and love me. As I grew older and became an adult, I realized that they were everything I abhor.”

“I understand, but Ryan is your husband, and a healthy relationship needs open communication. It doesn’t have to be World War III, but it does need to be discussed. He might surprise you, Brandon. You’ve both grown into intelligent, loving men since I met you all those years ago. Plus, the fact that you and Ryan are parents might also affect the way he sees this.”

“You’re right. I’m not being fair to him. I’m going home to talk to him.”

“I’m always here for you, Brandon. Anytime you need to talk. And if this is something you and Ryan need a mediator for, you know we would be able to set up a time for the two of you to come in.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

I hung up the phone, closed my eyes, took in a long, deep breath, and then released it slowly. There was no reason for me to be a pussy about this. Ryan had always been by my side, even during the times he’d disagreed with me. I needed to stop being an asshole and get back to my family. Plus, I needed to talk to him about the discussion I’d had with Dr. Alexander about combining practices.

I started to gather the papers I needed to take home and put them in my bag. I unrolled the sleeves of my shirt and loosened my tie. I wiped at my brow. Sweat started to form on my forehead as anxiety crept into the pit of my stomach. There was a knock on my door, and I quickly glanced at my watch, knowing my staff was long gone by now.

“Come in,” I said, hoping that whoever it was would make it fast. I was feeling urgent about getting out off there and back to Ryan.

Sean opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, Brandon. Already headed home? It’s pretty early for you, isn’t it?” He pushed off the frame and walked slowly to my desk.

“Yeah, I’m going to be making some adjustments to my schedule soon. Need to spend some more time with my family.”

“Oh,” Sean said, holding the O shape on his lips.

“Was there something you needed, or were you just coming by to say hey?”

I looked for my coat, which was hanging on the back of the door. I went over to get it, and then turned back to look at Sean. He was sitting on the edge of my desk with his arms crossed. A single strand of hair fell into his eye. I walked toward him and made a motion with my hand, signaling the hair was there. He narrowed his eyes at me, but still wouldn’t move the damn piece of hair. It was like when a string on a person’s shirt unraveled and you had to remove it or you would to go postal.

I reached up, took the single strand, and moved it behind his ear. “Sorry, I had to do that; it was kind of driving me crazy. I can be a little anal about stuff like that.” I started to back away when Sean grabbed my wrist.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry about touching me,” he said softly.

My eyes grew wide and my heart pounded.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now, Brandon, and I want to be here for you. You need to release some of that tension you’ve got built up. Remember what we talked about at the pub?”

Warning bells went off in my head. “Umm, Sean, I think maybe you have the wrong idea here.” I pulled my wrist back down to my side. “You’ve been a good friend, listening to me and all, but I love my husband and need to get home to him. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I wanted more.”

Did I give that impression?
I thought back to the times we hung out. Was I giving off a different signal than just a pair of friends chatting?

“Sean, I didn’t mean to give you any wrong ideas. It was great talking to you, but I love my husband and realized—”

Before I could finish that sentence, Sean shot up, grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me against him. I felt his erection through his scrubs.

“I don’t want to marry you, Brandon. I just want you to fuck me. Then you can go home to your husband.”

I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back; the desk shook when he bumped up against it. “What the hell, Sean? I don’t know what gave you the idea that I wanted more than just a friendship, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

He stood upright and smirked. “Come on, Brandon. I know when a guy needs to get laid. Your husband can’t give it to you like I would.” He pulled the string to his scrub pants loose, and they dropped down to his ankles. His erection jutted straight in my direction. Sean started to stroke it. “How about a quick suck. He’ll never have to know.”

I needed to get the hell out of there and get to Ryan. I turned for the door, not caring if I left my bag or my jacket. My heart stopped when I saw Ryan in the doorway. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tensed, and fists balled.

Ryan charged past me and swung his fist right into Sean’s face. Sean flew back; his body skated over the top of my desk, knocking nearly everything onto the floor. Ryan stalked to where Sean was sprawled on the floor, and I followed. “If you ever touch, look at, or speak to my husband again, I will cut off that sad excuse for a dick. Are we clear?”

Sean held his jaw and looked up at us. “You’re a loser. He deserves better than you.”

Ryan bent down and picked up the letter opener, which had fallen to the floor with the rest of the contents of my desk, and pointed it at Sean. “Are we going to cut off that tiny gherkin right now?”

I grabbed Ryan’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Ryan, put it down. He’s not worth it.”

He turned around to face me, letter opener in hand. His anger was palpable. “He’s not worth it, but apparently, neither am I.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter from my mother.

I closed my eyes for a second, hoping this was a bad dream. Sean stood and rubbed the side of his face where Ryan had hit him. I kept my eyes on Ryan as I spoke to Sean. “What the hell is the matter with you? I thought we were friends, and then you pull this shit? Get the fuck out of here and don’t ever come into my office again.”

Sean started toward the door. “Whatever. You’re probably a shitty lay anyway.”

Ryan turned and went after Sean again. Sean dashed through the door and out of the office as I grabbed Ryan’s arm and held him in place. “Don’t.”

He turned back to me, eyes wide. “What the fuck, Brandon? So you’ve been staying at the hospital to play doctor with Nurse McSteamy?”

“I wouldn’t ever do anything to jeopardize our marriage. I would never cheat, and you know that!” I yelled.

“Maybe so, but what about this? Why the hell haven’t you told me that you got a letter from your psychotic mother?”

“I wasn’t ready to tell you. I needed time.”

“You’ve certainly had a lot of it, staying here and avoiding coming home to me. I thought we were a unit, Brandon. I thought we shared everything—the good, bad, and the ugly.” Ryan threw the letter at my chest and then crossed his arms. “I feel like I’ve had to be a single dad to our son while you fucking stew in your office. I get that you want to be a great doctor to your patients. But what about us, Brandon? What about being a great dad and an amazing husband to us?”

“That’s bullshit. I love you and Ethan more than anything in this world. I’ve been working my ass off so we can have the life we always talked about. How could I tell you this when I knew you’d jump to your judgmental conclusions before we could even talk it out? She may be a horrible person, Ryan, but she’s still my mother. And she’s dying.”

Ryan shook his head. “You didn’t even give me a chance. You just assumed one thing and did your typical keep-everything-locked-up Brandon thing. You know what? Fuck you for not trusting me. All it would have taken is for you to open up and tell me. Instead, you wallowed at the hospital and talked to people who don’t know or care about you as much as I do. So go ahead, Brandon. Sit and fucking wallow by yourself. I’m going home to be with our son, and when you figure out that the world doesn’t revolve around just you, I’ll be waiting.”

Ryan turned around, stomped out of the office, and slammed the door behind him.

T
he house was
dark when I got home. Ryan was already in bed, and even though I knew he wasn’t sleeping, I didn’t want to start another fight by trying to talk to him. I quietly crawled into bed, knowing that sleep wouldn’t come to me. The next day I called in a favor to a friend of ours who had a cabin by Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Then I called Moxie to see if she and Miles would watch Ethan while I took Ryan for a much-needed getaway.

The ride up to the cabin was mostly silent with the occasional spoken turn-by-turn direction of the car’s GPS we’d named Betty. Ethan had come up with that name for the female voice. I asked him why the name Betty, and he said it reminded him of his friend Thomas’s grandma, who was very bossy, just like the navigator. The kid had a point; it did cop an attitude when it told you to make a U-turn after fucking up the directions. I quickly took my eyes from the road to look over at Ryan. He was gazing out the window, watching the city buildings pass by. I wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but there was still a lot of tension between us and we still hadn’t talked things through.

After I had made the arrangements, I called Dr. Fredricks to explain what had happened and if he had any ideas on how to reconnect. He emailed me an assignment to do when we got there. I checked over the assignment to make sure it didn’t include something like, “Take a screwdriver and gouge Brandon’s eyeballs out.”

“In a half a mile, turn right onto Locust Street,” Betty chirped.

“It’s wrong; you want to turn on Harrison,” Ryan said, still looking out the window.

“Don’t you think the navigation system knows where it’s going?” I huffed.

“I told you Craig gave me directions. It’s his cabin; I think he knows how to get there a little better than a computer.”

Craig was some big shot over at NBC where Ryan used to work. They were still good friends even though Ryan hadn’t worked there in four years. We’d had dinner with him and his family and shared barbeque over Memorial Day and Labor Day at our houses. He mentioned to me once that he had the cabin in Lake Geneva and said we were welcomed to use it anytime they weren’t there. I took took him up on his offer so we could use this weekend to hopefully reconnect.

“It may be Craig’s cabin, but I’m not in the mood to argue with technology.”

“Whatever.” Ryan mumbled.

Before the apocalypse that put our marriage in trouble, Ryan would have called me a nut and laughed at my idiocy. Now, I was getting absolutely nothing. I shook my head, feeling our connection sever in two.

Ryan gave me the rest of the directions to the cabin without saying much else. I pulled the car up the gravel driveway that led to a log cabin surrounded by trees of every shade the fall season had to offer. Lake Geneva was stunning this time of year. I knew people enjoyed the area all the different seasons, especially summer when they could spend time on the lake and wander through the cute shops downtown. But I loved it when the air was crisper and the smell of leaves burning filled the air. Reds, golds, and yellow leaves lay on the grass, which had already lost its strong summer green hue.

I opened the car door and breathed in the cool air. Ryan went to the back of the car and opened the trunk to get our bags. We walked along the stone pathway and up the steps to the porch of the cabin. I stopped to inspect the cabin and its incredible architecture. Wooden columns were embedded in the stone foundation and wood railings surrounded the porch. Rocking chairs and a coffee table sat to my right. If you sat there, the place offered a perfect view of the lake.

“Craig really knows how to live it up,” I said, still looking out toward the lake.

“Well, when you have a position like his at the TV station, you can pretty much afford all of this stuff. It was really nice of him to lend this to you for the weekend.”

“You mean
us
,” I said, turning around to face him.

He stopped, holding the storm door open so it wouldn’t slam back into him. He looked at me; a small smile reached the corner of his lips. “Yes, for us.”

I walked past him as he held the door open for me. My mouth fell open as I took in the rest of the great room before me. It had a rustic, open floor plan. Each part of the house flowed right into the next. A two-story fireplace took center stage, with pictures on the mantel of Craig’s family. Logs sat stacked and ready to be burned for a romantic fire. But would there be any romance on this adventure? I couldn’t answer that with any certainty.

Ryan took our bags upstairs while I removed my jacket and shoes. I stepped closer to the pictures of Craig’s family. They all wore happy smiles, and laughter brightened their eyes. There was one of Craig and his wife, Amelia, in a tight embrace. Craig was kissing her forehead and her eyes were closed, taking in the love he was giving her.

“I put everything in the bedroom, I figured we’d unpack later,” Ryan called from the second level loft.

“Are we sleeping in the same room?” I asked, my eyes still focused on the pictures in front of me.

“Brandon?” Ryan said softly.

“Hmm?” I said, finally looking up at him.

“We will always sleep together. I might be mad and hurt, but us sleeping apart is never a choice.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I nodded. Ryan walked down the stairs, and I sat down on one of the oversized leather sofas, not sure what to do. I hated feeling as if Ryan and I were strangers, not knowing how to act, worried I would say anything to upset him. I didn’t want to hurt him more than I already had.

Ryan came over to the couch but then sat in the recliner instead. I noticed he was holding a piece of paper in his hand. “What’s that? Divorce papers?” I chuckled nervously, trying to make the stiff air a little easier to breathe, but Ryan didn’t laugh.

“It’s the list of questions Dr. Fredricks wanted us to work on.”

“Oh, okay.” My hands knotted together. I felt like I was about to take a lie detector test. Dr. Fredricks had emailed some marriage worksheets for us to work on, and I’d packed them in our bag before we left.

“Maybe I should open a bottle of wine first.” Ryan stood up and headed to the kitchen.

“I think that would be great.” I would take anything that would calm my nerves.

The kitchen connected right to the great room, separated only by the countertops. There was a wine rack, and Ryan pulled out bottles, choosing one that fit our tastes.

I got up, followed Ryan into the kitchen, and started to open and close the cabinets, looking for wine glasses and a corkscrew. I found them and placed everything on the counter, and Ryan handed me the bottle to open. I looked at him, and he gave me a half smile. Ryan knew I was the one who liked to open the wine bottles because there were too many times he had messed up and either broke the cork or broke the opener.

I popped it open with ease, filled both glasses, and handed him his glass. I wanted to forgo the glass and drink straight from the bottle, but I thought I would keep some of my dignity intact.

Ryan took a sip and hummed. Oh, that sound. That was the sound of a content Ryan. I loved that sound, and it played like music to my ears. We walked back and sat in our respective spots, and I clutched my wineglass as if it were my lifeline.

“Ready to start?” Ryan asked as he held the paper to read its contents.

I pushed my glasses up my nose. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“
Discuss what you felt the first time you saw each other
.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “Seriously, that’s one of the questions? That seems so—”

“Expected?” Ryan finished my thought automatically. We did that a lot.

“Yeah, expected,” I said softly, looking down at my glass of wine.

“You were just a skinny, scared kid. I didn’t even know if we’d talk at all after I got the bullies off you. All I knew when I saw your face was I wanted you safe.” Ryan said, referring back to the first time we met in high school. I’d been sitting by a tree, reading one of the books I had borrowed from the library, when a few jocks from the football team tried to use me as their punching bag.

“I thought you were sexy, but a cocky ass at the same time.” We both laughed. Back then, Ryan got by on his charm and swagger often. “And I was jealous that you were out and comfortable with your sexuality while I was buried deep in the closet.” I looked up at Ryan and remembered the way he looked as we sat in that little diner together. We were so young, just seventeen years old, and had so much waiting for us in our future.

“Next question:
What is something the other person does to make you laugh
?” Ryan thought of something right off the bat. “That one is easy for me. It’s when you dance around the house with Ethan. You dance like a chicken that’s just been decapitated and is searching frantically for its head.”

“Hey now. I have some dance moves.”

“You waving your arms around, looking like you’re having a seizure, isn’t considered dancing.” Ryan got out of the chair and started to imitate me dancing, exaggerating all his movements.

“At least I don’t stick my tongue out of my mouth every time I’m thinking too hard. I never know if you have an idea or you’re getting ready to lick something.”

Our combined laughter filled the space around us. We were talking, and it felt so good. Either that or the wine made me feel lighter knowing we weren’t going to start World War III. I felt more relieved when Ryan sat on the other end of the couch and not back in his recliner. Good, this was progress. “What’s the next question?”

Ryan looked at the sheet and his smile fell.

“
What is something your partner has done to hurt you
?” He put the piece of paper on the coffee table and let himself sink into the couch.

“I guess Dr. Fredricks doesn’t fuck around with the questions.” I chugged the rest of my wine and set the empty glass on the table. Then I turned to face Ryan, who looked like he had been punched in the gut.

“Ryan, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been absent both emotional and physically. I don’t know what else I could possibly say to make it better. I should have come to you, talked to you more. I shouldn’t have let my job take over, and I should have told you about the letter. I just… I know how much you hate my parents.”

“Don’t you?” he asked, his jaw tight. “Don’t you hate them? They abused you. They didn’t care about you, whether you lived or died. Your mother, if you even called her that, didn’t even want you in the first place. Not only did you not tell me about the letter, you confided in someone you barely knew at work. Oh, not to mention the fact that he lusted on you and used your pain to take advantage of the situation.” Ryan bolted up and started to pace back and forth.

His voice shook. “I am your husband, damn it. I’m the one you’re supposed to come to and lean on. When did we have this breakdown in our communication? I get that things change in marriages—that not every moment is perfect. But when we made the decision that you were going to open your own practice, you put one hundred percent into that. I thought maybe you could handle the practice and your home life, but I was wrong. Not only has Ethan missed you, but I’ve missed you.” He sat back down and covered his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry.” I raised my voice. I wanted him to hear me, to
really
hear me. I wanted him to understand that what I did was wrong. “I wanted to protect you from this—from her. My family has already caused me enough pain. I don’t want her to poison you or Ethan, too. I couldn’t handle it. So I thought if I could just get out my frustrations before I saw you, it would be okay.”

I slid across the leather to sit next to him and took his chin in my hand. “I was wrong, so very wrong. I will do anything for you to forgive me.”

“Anything?” he asked.

“Ryan, for you, I would do anything and everything. You’re my love, my life, my world.”

Passion rose in the air, and Ryan’s mouth parted. He licked his lips, and I had a feeling our talk was over.