Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Donovan

Parker: You’re probably sleeping. But why in the hell would you lend me $400 pants?

Me: You needed something to wear.

I pressed send, leaning against the kitchen counter with a huge grin on my face and took a long sip of coffee. Everything that had happened last night left a vivid stamp on my memory, loud and hot. My God. Setting my phone on the counter, I closed my eyes and raised a hand to my lips, feeling the burn Parker had left behind. Inhaling, I could smell him, smell the humid scent of his rain-soaked hair, the hard touch of his hands on my face. My heart sped up and I grinned again, my eyes slowly opening to the morning sun as it spilled through the window. I stared out at the lawn, thinking about everything and nothing and I was full and happy. I was happy. Something I hadn’t been in such a long time.

“Dad, we have to go soon.” Anne gaped at me, her hand on her hip. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Zoned out. Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yeah.”

“Get your bookbag, I’ll be ready in a second.”

My phone chirped and I picked it up, swiping my thumb across the screen.

Parker: Good morning.

I laughed at the sleeping emoji he sent.

Me: Did I wake you?

Parker: No, just getting out of the shower.

An image of him standing fully nude in my own shower assaulted me.

Me: Thank you for that visual.

Parker: Anytime… Question?

Parker: Did you really spend $400 on a pair of sweats?

I laughed again and my shoulders shook.

Me: No, they were a gift from my sister. She can be… excessive.

Parker: No shit.

“Dad,” Anne whined, and I glanced at the clock.

“Aw, hell.”

I had to leave in fifteen minutes if I wanted to get Anne to school and arrive to work on time. I gulped down my coffee, singeing the tip of my tongue. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I washed out my coffee mug and finished knotting the tie around my neck. I grabbed my keys and laptop bag before heading for the door.

“Let’s go, little monster.”

The morning air was cool, the heavy cloud bank overhead threatening more rain. I looked forward to fall every year, not that it got very brisk in Atlanta, but the change from the overbearing summer heat was nice. The rain I could do without. I unlocked the car as Anne complained about the weather.

“We have time, go grab a jacket,” I offered as I opened the back door for her.

“It’s not that cold,” she grumbled, brushing past me, and slid into the back seat.

The radio host warned of a traffic jam on I-85 as the engine came to life.

“You’re gonna be late.” She flashed her gray eyes at me in the rearview mirror.

“Nah,” I said, backing out of my driveway. “It’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t fine. There’d been an accident a few blocks from Anne’s school, and everything was gridlocked.

“Should have left earlier,” she said.

“I know.”

“Shouldn’t have slept in so late.”

“Anne,” I warned. “I’m sorry, alright.”

I’d hit snooze on my alarm clock one too many times this morning. In my sleep-hazed head, I had time. Which I would have had if I hadn’t needed to take Anne to school. But it wasn’t her fault I’d stayed up late. Nope. That was on me. Would I change a thing about last night? Absolutely not.

“It’s okay,” she said as the car in front of me inched ahead. “Mom is always late.”

“She’s not always—”

“Dad.”

“Okay.” I chuckled. “She isn’t very punctual, but being an adult is hard. And now we both have to do it on our own. We’re trying.”

“I wish…” She stopped talking and I glanced over my shoulder. Her hands were wringing in her lap. “I wish you guys didn’t have to do it on your own.”

She held my gaze in the rearview mirror.

“I miss our family too,” I said, my voice cracking. “I love your mom, and she loves me, but we didn’t work anymore, hon. It’s better this way. We would have ended up fighting all the time.”

“I know.” She stared out the window. “It still sucks.”

“It sucks.”

She turned and smiled at me. The smallest of smiles. “I like when we make waffles.”

“Me too.”

“I liked your friend.”

The traffic started to move again, and I focused on the road as I spoke. “He’s nice.”

“Will he have dinner with us again?” she asked as I pulled into the drop-off lane in front of her school.

“If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah.” I put the car in park, and she unbuckled, leaning between the two front seats to kiss me on the cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

She hustled out of the car and slammed the door, leaving me in a daze. The car behind me honked and I held up my hand. “Jesus, I’m moving.”

I was thirty minutes late for work by the time I walked into the office lobby. Kris peered at me from her desk.

“Is he pissed?” I asked, my eyes fixing on Anders’s closed office door.

“Probably, he’ll get over it, though.” She handed me a file. “Here’s the info for your nine o’clock call.”

“Thanks.” I glanced at his door. “Maybe I should talk to—”

“I wouldn’t,” she shook her head. “Ethan’s in there.”

“Oh…” I said and then my eyes widened. “Oh.”

She laughed. “Oh, indeed.”

“You don’t think…”

She shrugged, her grin a mile wide. “They remind me of how Cesar and I used to be. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other...”

“And now?” I asked and she waved me off.

“We’re fine… just a little harder when you have a toddler running around.” Kris smiled. “Maybe you should knock on the door. I mean, if he can do... whatever he’s doing in there, then you can be a little late from time to time.”

“I think I’d rather hide in my office.” I held up the file. “Thanks again.”

“Not a problem.”

Anders’s door opened as I walked down the hall. His fiancé, Ethan, laughed about something and I ducked into my office. I switched on my computer and sat down, pretending to look busy. Setting my phone on my desk, I noticed I had a couple of notifications. Right as I unlocked the screen, Ethan stopped in front of my door.

“Hey, Van.” His lips broke into a warm smile. “How’s it going?”

“Good, and you?”

He ran a hand through his already messy hair. His cheeks splotched with pink stood out against the blue color of his scrubs. “Tired, long shift last night.”

“Did you hit that traffic coming in?” Anders asked as he sidled in next to Ethan, and holy God, his hair was a mess too. His tie askew.

I tried not to smile.

“I did. I’m sorry I was late I—”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” Anders’s face lit up with a smile as he stared down at Ethan. He wiped his thumb across Ethan’s lips, and I looked away. “As long as it doesn’t become a habit.”

“Don’t be such a hard ass,” Ethan said, and I chanced a glimpse in their direction. “Ignore him, Van. He’d never fire you. He likes you too much.”

Anders rolled his eyes and I laughed.

“Good to know, but I promise. It won’t be a habit.”

Anders pressed his lips to Ethan’s forehead. “You better get home and get some sleep. I hate these night shifts.”

“I have to start somewhere.” Ethan waved at me before taking Anders’s hand in his. He nodded his head toward the front of the office. “Walk me out?”

Anders nodded once and kissed him again.

“It was good to see you.” Ethan gave me a small wave.

“You, too.”

“I’ll be back in a second,” Anders said. “I want to go over something with you before your first meeting.”

I nodded, and as they both walked away, my phone vibrated against my desk.

I had three missed texts.

Parker: Shit. Did I offend you?

Parker: I’m sure your sister is great. I mean, she’d have to be to buy you those sweats, right?

Parker: I’m going to assume you don’t hate me. But if you want to put me out of my misery, text me when you can.

Smiling, I typed out a quick response.

Me: I don’t hate you.

Three dots popped up at the bottom of my screen.

Parker: No?

Me: Not at all. I was late for work because I was up late, not hating you, and then I got stuck in traffic.

Parker: I’m being one of those weird, needy types… who I do hate, by the way.

Me: I think your worry was reasonable. I left you hanging. But I like that you worried. Is that bad?

Parker:  No. It just makes you a sadist.

I laughed and cleared my throat as Claire walked by shooting me a dirty look.

“’Morning Claire.”

She didn’t respond.

Me: I do not enjoy people’s pain. For the record.

Parker: Damn. I thought I might get to bump you up to lesson number five.

Me: Ha.

Parker: What, not a whips-and-chains kind of guy?

Me: I guess I can’t say no since I’ve never tried it, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say probably not.

Parker: No whips and chains. Check.

I figured he was only joking, but I wondered if maybe he wasn’t.

Me: Is that something you’d ever want?

Parker: No. Not that I’m judging those who like it. But it’s not for me.

Relief slowed my pulse.

Me: I’m not judging either, but thank God.

Me: Off topic… Can I talk to Anders today about your work?

Parker: Can we talk about BDSM again?

Me: He’s going to love it.

The dots at the bottom of my screen danced and disappeared four times.

Parker: You can show him.

Me: We can talk about what he thinks after class. Would you want to have dinner with me again tonight?

Parker: Yes.

Heat crawled up my neck, excitement fueling the fire as I stared at the screen.

Me: I’ll see you this evening, then.

Parker: Text me if he hates it?

Me: He won’t.

“Got a minute?” Anders asked as he walked into my office and shut the door.

“Of course.” I set my phone on my desk. “What’s up?”

He sat down across from me, his brows knitting together as he said, “I told my mom Ethan and I are getting married on a riverbank, most likely the Chattahoochee. She wasn’t pleased.”

I chuckled at his wounded expression. “Did she disown you?”

“Not this time. But I’m sure she thought about it.” He laughed and rubbed his jaw. “I told her she could do the invitations. I think it was my saving grace. Anyway,” he said. “The call this morning, Kris should have given you everything you need.”

“She did. I appreciate it.”

Anders started to stand. “Let me know if you need anything else. Blanding Production can be a pain to deal with. Ask for twenty percent, they’ll bargain you down to ten, which is perfect.”

“Before you go, can I…” My throat narrowed and I sucked in a breath. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Anders sat back, his light eyes assessing me. “Is there something wrong?”

“No… I mean, at least I hope you won’t think so.” I pulled at the tight knot of my tie. “There’s this…” Student? Guy? God, this was awful. “I want to be honest.”

“I always prefer honesty,” Anders said, eyeing me warily.

“I want you to read something one of my students wrote. It’s phenomenal, Anders. And I think he has so much potential, but I don’t want you to think I’m being biased.”

“Because he’s your student?”

“Yes, and…” I swallowed, my tongue sour in my mouth. “And… we… well, I… It’s new and I know it’s unconventional and—”

“Van…” Anders stared at me, the soft lines around his eyes deepening as he smiled. “Take a breath.”

I did. It was ridiculous. I counted to ten and then started over.

“I’m bisexual.”

Anders blinked a few times. “Okay.”

“I’ve never had a chance to explore it, you know. And I met a guy online. We’ve hung out a few times, and he’s… he’s…” I wiped my damp palms over my slacks. “He’s amazing.”

“That’s great,” Anders said, his smile stretching to his eyes. “Seriously, I’m happy for you. It has to be hard dating again, after everything.”

“It was terrifying.”

“I can only imagine.”

I took another long, deep breath. “He’s a student, Anders.”

“Wait… the author or…” His smile fell.

“I didn’t know. When I met him online, I had no idea. He’s twenty-four. And shit, I shouldn’t have gone through with it once I met him, but he’s... he’s—”

“Amazing.”

“Yeah.” I sank back in my chair. “Please don’t fire me.”

“Why would I fire you?” He cocked his head to the side, confused. “I would be more worried about losing your job at Winchester. What’s their policy?”

“No fraternization whatsoever. If we get caught, I’ll get fired. God, this is so unprofessional.”

“He’s an adult, it’s not that scandalous.” He smiled and I exhaled. “I’m assuming you don’t want them to fire you, though.”

“I doubt I’d be able to get a job teaching anywhere if they did.” I rested my elbow on the table and pressed my fingers into my temple, trying to relieve the sudden ache in my head. “But he’ll only be my student until December, right? After that I’m hoping it won’t matter.”

“Is he out… about his sexuality?”

“He is.”

“And he’s okay with hiding?”

“I mean, I think so. For now.” I met his gaze. “You’re not upset?”

“Van, I don’t give a shit who you date as long as it’s a consenting adult. I dated Wilder on and off for years. Total conflict of interest. And I’m marrying my ex-assistant. Who am I to judge?” He sat up. “If you like him, make it work. December isn’t that far away.”

“Thank you for not firing me.”

His chuckle untied the last knot in my stomach as he stood. “Send me his work, I can’t promise anything.”

“It’s once-in-a-lifetime writing.”

“And you’re thinking with the right head?”

“I am,” I grinned as he tapped his knuckles on my desk.

“Send it, I’ll read some of it on my lunch.”

“Thanks.”

He opened the door, but before he left, he said. “You’re a good agent, a good friend. I know I can be… difficult, but if this does blow back on the agency for some reason, I want you to know I’ll defend you to whoever will listen.”

“Anders, I—”

“But try not to let it blow back, alright.” The command in his voice was unmistakable.

“I won’t,” I said, and hoped like hell it wasn’t a lie.

Tonight’s class had been interesting, to say the least. Despite everything that happened between Parker and me over that last few days, and all the secret smiles he’d sent my way, I thought I’d kept up a professional appearance. But, after my long night last night, and my even longer day, I was exhausted. My head in Parker’s lap, his hand running through my hair, I struggled to keep my eyes open. His other hand rested on my hip, his fingers drawing symbols and letters on my skin under my shirt. The movie on the television served as white noise, making it that much harder to stay awake. Occasionally he would laugh, and I’d smile. The scent of his soap and cologne, the warmth of his body, this easy intimacy, I almost liked it better than sex. Well… maybe.

“You awake?” he asked, and I hummed.

“A little.”

“Do you want me to go?”

I opened my eyes and was met with a smile. “Not yet.”

“You’re tired,” he said and laughed when I shook my head. “Van, you looked dead on your feet in class.”

“Is that a nice way of saying I looked like shit?”

“I’m just glad Marcos was still sick, so I didn’t have to hear his jokes about how I kept you up all night.”

“I’m not looking forward to seeing him again,” I said, and Parker grinned. “He’s going to make it awkward.”

“Only for me.” His fingers trailed over my lips. “He’s under strict orders to keep his mouth shut.”

“And he’ll listen?”

Parker’s blue eyes stilled, serious and raw as he stared down at me. “He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot who loves me and would do anything for me.”

“Anything?” I asked, not fully convinced.

He looked at me, searching my face for something. His throat worked as he swallowed, his hand in my hair again, he said, “I’ve known Marcos since basic training. He’s had my back. Always. Our first year at MacDill, I thought I could be out. There was no more ‘don’t ask don’t tell’. Marcos told me I was crazy. I didn’t believe him.” His voice was hoarse, the fingers on my hip trembled as he spoke. “I should have.”

“Did something happen?” I asked, knowing the answer by the way his eyes had turned to glass.

“I met a guy, another airman. We talked online for a few weeks, decided to meet. He was nervous. He wasn’t out. At least that’s what he’d told me.” Parker’s chest stuttered as he exhaled, thinking of things I was terrified to know. “We met at a bar, and it seemed like things were going good. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, which should have been a red flag, but I was dumb, and young, and wanted… shit… I—”

“Park.” I sat up, curling my legs underneath me and faced him. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s too difficult.”

“I do.” He wet his lips and picked at the hole in his jeans. “We walked to one of the nearby piers, I was buzzed, not thinking straight. I didn’t see the other guy until it was too late.”

“Oh God, Parker…”

His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he tried to shore up whatever storm was building inside.

“They beat the shit out of me. Called me every slur you could think of. Told me I was worthless. Told me I didn’t deserve to serve my country. I don’t remember much after that, but I remember calling Marcos. I woke up in the hospital ER. Concussion. Broken ribs. Broken nose. I was broken. Marcos wanted to report them. I begged him not to. I was embarrassed and scared. The guy was an officer, his friend—I had no idea. Marcos never said a word. We told the police I’d been mugged. Told my CO the same thing. The closet was my home after that night. For four years.”

A tear fell down my face and he wiped it away. I hadn’t even realized I’d started to cry. There was a small scar that cut across his eyebrow, and I traced it with my thumb, and he closed his eyes.

“Marcos keeps my secrets and I keep his.”

I cupped his face and he leaned into the touch. It didn’t change anything, but I wasn’t sure what else to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me too.” And God, he smiled, and my chest ached. “But they didn’t win. Maybe they did for a while. But not anymore.”

“And I’ve asked you to hide again,” I said, the realization cutting me in two. “I can’t... I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s not the same.” He leaned in, the warmth of his breath on my lips. “It’s not, so stop overthinking.”

Parker kissed me soft and sleepy. Like he hadn’t just opened an old wound, like he hadn’t started to bleed all over again. His hands in my hair, his tongue parted my lips. It didn’t last long, but this kiss was different from the previous kisses we’d shared. It tasted like trust and hope and something I couldn’t name, something that was unique to him, something sweet and somber.

This man. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Turns me to dust.

“The free association assignment,” I said, and he nodded.

“It was about my last week in Florida. I met the guy at a bar. It was a one-time thing. But for some reason I’d told him everything, let him fuck me. All of it was my choice. I took back my freedom under the same pier where I’d almost lost everything.”

Earlier we’d talked about his writing over boxes of lo-mein, talked about a future he didn’t think he could have, but he’d said he’d given some thought about changing his major to creative writing next semester. He didn’t get it, how rare his talent was, how special. He’d laughed when I told him Anders was interested in talking to him about working on a novel. He’d laughed like I’d been pulling his leg, like he wasn’t good enough. I’d said, “I told you so.” And he’d laughed again. I had no idea. No idea the scars he held. I should have told him he was worthy, like that stranger on the beach, who’d had him in a way that twisted me up inside. That he was this rare and special person. That he deserved this, that he never deserved to bleed. I wanted to say it now, but it felt like it was too late.

Instead, I said his name and kissed him until we couldn’t breathe.