Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Donovan

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in here.” My sister Olive, also known as Olivia, but only if you wanted her to hate you, smiled at the lady across the counter as she grabbed a bag of fresh bagels. “I worry about you, Van. Living alone in that house, eating take-out every night.”

“Hey now… I’m living my best single dad life, okay?” I smirked, reaching in the refrigerator case and grabbing some lox and cream cheese. “Besides, I think you might’ve forgotten how pathetic you were when you divorced Jonathan.”

“That was three years ago, and I handled it with grace. Thank you very much.” She flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. “We didn’t have a kid to worry about though. You do.”

“I have a kid? I had no idea,” I said, sarcastic as hell. “You know, ever since you and Owen turned forty, you think you know everything.”

“You sound like a moody teen right now… in case you can’t hear yourself.” She laughed when I pushed the cart a little faster leaving her behind. “See. You’re a child, Van,” she said, raising her voice embarrassingly loud, drawing the attention of everyone at the meat counter.

God, my sister was a shit sometimes. I was the baby of the family, born six years after my twin siblings. We’d been raised in an especially typical mac and cheese American family. My mom stayed home while Dad worked at Emory as a mathematics professor. There was never a reason for it, but Owen and Olive had always tried to parent me, a hobby they hadn’t yet given up. Which I found comical, seeing how neither of them had very stable lives. Olive was a therapist who was hung up on her emotionally abusive, toxic ex-husband, and I was pretty sure she still slept with the asshole. And Owen couldn’t hold down a stable relationship if he tried. Not that he wanted to. The perpetual bachelor. He was too busy trying to be the king of the marketing firm he worked at. Classic workaholic. Honestly, I was the only normal one in the family.

“Why do you do that?” I asked as she sidled in next to me. “I already have two parents who ride my ass enough, I don’t need you or Owen making it worse.”

“Mom and Dad do not ride your ass. You’re their favorite.” She threw a bag of chips into the cart, and I reached in and put it back on the shelf.

“Hey, those are for Anne,” she said and placed them back in the cart.

“Lanie doesn’t want her eating certain types of oils.” I debated if I should buy the chips or not, but after the look of annoyance Olive shot my way, I decided it wasn’t worth the fight. “I know it sounds ridiculous but—”

“Good, because for fuck’s sake, Anne’s ten. The pre-teen years are all about junk food. Or did you forget after eating couscous for over a decade?” Her familiar gray eyes found mine. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t say anything.”

“But you do.”

“Come on, do you really care what kind of oil Anne has?”

I exhaled a long sigh and leaned against the cart. “No… but I want to co-parent the best we can. And I’m being respectful.”

“Which I can appreciate. But your opinions matter too.” She wrapped her arm around me and squeezed once before letting go. “Don’t be a doormat… that’s my job.”

“Jonathan again?”

“I’m such an idiot.” If my sister was the type to cry, I imagined her eyes would have welled up with tears by the way her face paled. “He’s engaged.”

“Again?”

Groaning, she grabbed two more bags of chips, and I had to stifle my laugh. Not only was she a doormat, but she was also an emotional eater.

“Yeah… again. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Of course not.

“Okay… but I would like you to remember this next time you start butting into my life.” I grinned and her lips perked up at the corners. “Thanks for helping me with dinner tonight. I’m nervous for Mom and Dad to see the place.”

“I can’t believe it’s taken this long for them to wheedle their way in…. you know Mom will probably walk around and straighten all your picture frames,” she said as we made our way to the checkout stands. “And Dad will dote on Anne while passive-aggressively chastising Owen and me for not giving him any grandkids.”

“Which Owen won’t even hear because he’ll be on the phone with the office.” Laughing, I shook my head. “We’re such a cliché dysfunctional family.”

“Right?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“You look so much like Mom when you smile.”

“God, don’t say that. Have you seen the grays in my hair?”

“Mom’s beautiful, and so are you.”

Which was true, at least in my opinion. With their delicate features, long, dark hair, and fair skin, they both resembled Snow White. Thinking about the fictional princess led to a thought about The Lost Boys which made me think about the guy I’d been talking to on Pegasus the other night. Truthfully, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since our conversation the other day, and with it being my weekend with Anne, and having my family over for dinner tonight, I hadn’t had a chance to message him again. Not like he’d messaged me either. I wasn’t sure of the protocol when it came to the amount of time I was supposed to wait before reaching out to him again, and if I asked my sister, it would open up a dialogue I did not want to have in the checkout line at a farmer’s market. The way the conversation had ended with him, it seemed as though he’d left the ball in my court.

Olive scrolled through her phone while we waited, and I used the moment to check my messages, as well, hoping maybe he’d reached out, and I didn’t have to. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and opened the app, disappointed when there were no new messages waiting. I read over our conversation again, smiling at his “water wings” comment. I should’ve cared more about our age difference, but in the grand scheme of things, nine years wasn’t that bad. He was an adult. But then again, when I was in my second year of college, he was the same age as my daughter. Shit. Maybe nine years was too much.

“What’s that face?” Olive asked and I quickly closed out of the app.

My heartbeat trampled all over itself, like I’d been caught trying to shoplift a Kit Kat bar.

“Nothing.” I tried to casually slip my phone into my back pocket, but like the cadaver dog that she was, Olive smelled blood.

Her lips parted in a slow grin. “Nothing… I don’t think so.”

Thankfully, the line moved, distracting her, but I knew it would only offer me a brief reprieve. I could tell her it was something about Lanie, but I didn’t want her thinking I was at my ex-wife’s beck and call. But then there was this itch, this need I had to tell her, to tell someone in my family the feelings I’d been hiding all this time. I hoped they’d all accept me and my sexuality, but the not knowing made it difficult to keep my imagination in check, to keep all the what ifs from getting out of control. What if they disowned me? What if they thought I was bad for Anne? What if I had to give up this side of myself in order to have my family? All these things I never had to think about when I was with Lanie. Even when she’d pissed off my sister, or offended my mom, they still accepted us. Accepted her. Would they be okay with me bringing a man home?

“There it is again,” Olive said, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. “That face. Are you worried about leaving Anne with Owen? Because I would be.”

Laughing, I started to load the groceries onto the stand. “Owen is capable of watching Anne for an hour while I shop.”

“Only because Anne is self-sufficient.” She raised her eyebrows in a way that suggested there was no room to argue. “Besides… we’re getting off track. The face, Van… What’s going on?”

I smiled at the cashier as I stepped forward, and pushed the cart toward the bagging area, efficiently ignoring my sister entirely. I thought I might’ve been in the clear when she hadn’t mentioned anything again, but as soon as the bags were in the car, and we were on the road, she made it apparent she was not going to drop it.

“You’re hiding something. And I’m freaking out a little, because I’m terrified you’re going to tell me you’re getting back with Lanie. And I can’t, Van. I can’t with that chick.”

Gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, I grit my teeth. “Jesus Christ, Olive. Can you let it go? I’m allowed to have a private life.”

She turned in her seat and I exhaled, waiting for the inevitable guilt trip she was about to throw down.

“You are hiding something… I can’t believe you’re getting back with Lanie. She’s too controlling, if you ask me, and she cheated on you the first chance she got. I swear to God if –”

“Holy shit, will you calm down. I’m not getting back with Lanie.”

“You’re not?”

“No…. I’m…” A burning ache threatened to close my throat, fear’s firm grip attempting to render me silent.

“What?” she asked, and I could hear the genuine concern in her tone. “If it’s not Lanie, then… shit, you’re okay, right? You don’t have cancer or something terrible like that because if you die, I—”

A wild, anxious laugh pushed its way past the lump in my throat. “No... I’m not dying, Liv… I’m bisexual.”

“W-what?”

I glanced at her for a second, taking my eyes off the road. She didn’t seem disgusted. Or angry. Shocked was more like it.

“I mean… at least, I think I am.”

“Have you ever—”

“Been with a guy? No. I’ve only been with Lanie… but…” I stared straight ahead. Mostly to make sure we didn’t rear end anyone, but also because I couldn’t look at her. My nerves were too raw for anything other than an accepting expression. “I’ve always been attracted to guys. I’ve known since middle school, but once I met Lanie, I didn’t think it mattered anymore.”

“Of course, it matters.” she said, speaking softly. Olive had put on her therapist hat, and it made me smile. “God, Van. You’ve been carrying this around that long?”

“It’s not like it was a burden. I was happy with Lanie… until I wasn’t.” The trees whistled by, creating a long stretch of calming green as the silence settled inside the car. I let a few minutes pass, let Olive digest what I’d told her before I spoke again. “If I met a woman tomorrow and she was amazing, I wouldn’t hesitate to date her. I haven’t been living a lie or anything. I like women. But I’m attracted to men too. And I want to explore that even if it scares the shit out of me.”

“What are you scared about?”

“Everything. Being judged, losing Mom and Dad, not knowing how to navigate the whole dating scene.” I huffed out a laugh. “I set up a profile on a gay dating app.”

“Shut up, you did not,” she gasped, pushing my shoulder hard enough I swerved.

“You’re going to get us killed.”

“Have you met anyone yet?”

I didn’t want to say yes. But I needed all the help I could get.

“Yeah… but it’s very new, and he’s very young and I’m not sure it will turn into anything more than chatting.”

“How young?”

“He’ll be twenty-four on Wednesday, actually.”

“My baby brother is a bisexual cougar.” she teased, and the last bit of anxiety I had lifted. “Wow.”

“You’re okay with all of this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? And don’t worry about Owen, he won’t care at all. Shane is gay.”

“His roommate?” I asked. “Since when?”

“Since always…”

“Huh… Owen never tells me anything anymore,” I said, feeling more relieved by the minute. “What about our parents? Do you think they’ll freak out?”

“I’ve never heard them say anything homophobic.” She turned to look out the window. “But you never know with them… they still love me, and I’m a hot mess. So that’s a good sign. Besides, being bisexual isn’t a bad thing, you can’t help who you’re attracted to.”

“I know that… and you’re not a hot mess, by the way,” I assured her as I turned into my driveway. “But you’re right… they’ve always been supportive. I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

“Are you going to tell them tonight?” she asked, and I turned off the engine.

Maybe I should rip the Band-Aid off, quick and easy. The thought didn’t sit right, though. It shouldn’t have to be this big announcement over steak and mashed potatoes. I’d tell them when I actually started dating a guy.

“Nah… I’m not ready yet.”

“Can I tell Owen?”

“Fuck, no.” She laughed at my outburst. “You’re such an ass.”

“Yeah… but you love me,” she said and opened the car door.

Dinner with the family had gone about as well as it always did. My brother actually only took three phone calls, and Olive only had three glasses of wine. All in all, I’d call it a success. The mess in my kitchen, though, not fun. Anne was on the couch watching Twister for the thousandth time. She wanted to be a storm chaser when she grew up. And the president. And a veterinarian. I had to have done something right as a parent, at least she had goals.

I’d finished putting dinner away and had started on the dishes when my phone vibrated against the countertop. I held up my hands over the sink as I looked for the towel that should’ve been on the handle of the oven, but it never seemed to be there when I needed it.

“Anne,” I called out. The kitchen was open to the living room, and despite the volume on the television I knew she could hear me. “Can you grab a towel from the basket in the laundry room, please?”

“In a minute, Dad. They’re about to launch Dorothy into the tornado.”

“Now, Anne. You can press pause you know.”

She grumbled but did as I asked, huffing the whole way to the laundry room. I chuckled, shaking some of the water off of my fingers while I waited. I supposed I could have waited to check my phone until after I was finished cleaning, but I couldn’t deny the jump in my pulse thinking it might be a message from him. Him. Jesus, I didn’t even know his name. This online dating thing was weird as fuck.

“Here ya go.” Anne basically threw the towel at me and ran back into the living room, dive bombing onto the couch.

“It’s almost time to brush your teeth, kid.”

“Dad,” she whined. “It’s Saturday.”

“I’ll let you stay up till nine, but then it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“Nine-thirty?” She bargained.

“Nine-fifteen.” I wiped my hands dry and picked up my phone. “Deal?”

“Ugh… fine.”

“Thanks, little monster,” I said and unlocked my screen, my smile widening when I saw the Pegasus message icon.

@TheL0stB0y: You ready to swim?

It was only four words, but hell, my pulse picked up its pace, making my stomach feel light.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I think I’ve always been ready.

@TheL0stB0y: Good, because I have a lesson planned.

@MeAndMyShadow33: You planned a lesson?

@TheL0stB0y: Sort of… humor me…

@MeAndMyShadow33: You’ve got my attention.

@TheL0stB0y: First, we should establish a few boundaries.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I agree.

@TheL0stB0y: Good. I’ll go first. Are you looking for sex, or to start a relationship?

@MeAndMyShadow33: Definitely not looking for a one-night stand, but I’m not looking to get serious either. At least not right now.

@TheL0stB0y: Same.

@MeAndMyShadow33: What about personal information?

@TheL0stB0y: Good question. I think staying anonymous will make it easier for us to walk away if shit isn’t working. But I would like to call you something other than “the dating app guy.”

@MeAndMyShadow33: How about we use middle names?

@TheL0stB0y: I’m down with that.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Then, it’s nice to meet you…

@TheL0stB0y: Michael. And you’re…

@MeAndMyShadow33: James.

@TheL0stB0y: Wow… we’re generic.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Or traditional.

@TheL0stB0y: There’s nothing traditional about any of this.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Definitely not.

@TheL0stB0y: Ready for Lesson 1?

@MeAndMyShadow33: You don’t waste any time, do you?

@TheL0stB0y: I find it’s easier to learn to swim if you just jump in.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Baptism by fire?

@TheL0stB0y: Exactly… Lesson 1: Likes and Dislikes.

@MeAndMyShadow33: As in, I like extra cheese on my pizza and hate mushrooms?

@TheL0stB0y: Sure. Or if you’re feeling more open-minded, you could get more personal.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Personal how?

@TheL0stB0y: As in, I like giving head better than receiving.

“Christ.” I choked on a laugh, and quickly glanced up from my phone to check on Anne, like somehow, she might’ve been privy to my conversation, which was asinine. She hadn’t even moved an inch.

Thank God for disaster films.