Undone by Leslie McAdam
Jason
“How’s it going with your new roommate?” Becky asks. She shoves a chip into her mouth and washes it down with a sip of Coke.
We’re hanging out at my place on Wednesday. Murph’s working tonight, and I’m done for the day. I sent him to work with a container of soup for dinner along with some crackers. He looked at me like I’d given him a whole house.
It’s only soup.
“Good,” I say, thinking of the way his eyes seemed to almost tear up when I gave him the meal and wondering if anyone has ever fed him before. “How did you meet him?”
“I went to V and V with some girlfriends for a bachelorette party. He was our server. He cracked me up. And he complimented me on my shoes. Then I heard him asking Tanner if he knew of anyone with a room to rent, and I was like, I know the perfect place for you. The owner of V and V vouched for him.”
I swear Becky knows everyone. Guess that’s part of being a realtor.
“You didn’t think he would be too, you know.”
“Gay?” She gives me a look I can’t interpret. “I didn’t take you for having a problem with that.”
“I don’t,” I say quickly. “Not at all.”
“That’s right you don’t.”
Truthfully, I don’t know what I feel about Murph. Massively protective, for one thing. He’s so small, and I think he deserves an easier life than he’s had so far.
He’s fierce, though. Ergo, I don’t think he’s fragile.
While there’s nothing wrong with tending bar, and V and V is apparently great—I haven’t been in there yet—I think Murph could shine if he got into commenting on pop culture. He seems to like it, and with how articulate and witty he is? No wonder his blog is blowing up.
I sip my drink. “After a few days of living with a gay guy, it’s not the big deal I was worried it would be. We have more things in common than differences. We both like all the same things. In fact, if he were a woman, he’d be a great person to date.”
“Is that right?” Becky asks.
I smile. “But since he’s not, he can be my friend. And he’s giving me insight into this different world.”
“What world is that?”
“Ever since that wine bar opened, I’m seeing a lot more gay and lesbian and whoever people holding hands in town. And not only on Church Street. I kind of like it. The world’s changing. People are able to be more themselves.”
“Hmm,” she says.
“Never something I paid much attention to. But I guess with a roommate who is out and proud, I’m getting my horizons expanded even more. Everything that’s been going on the past few years has made me realize how privileged I am. And how I don’t really want to be—or, at least, don’t want to coast on that privilege. How I want to help other people. If I can help the ones closest to me, like Murph, or help Marnie with the misogynistic crap and racist microaggressions she gets in town, then I’m going to do it.”
She sighs. “I hate how Marnie gets treated. Vermont thinks it’s progressive, but it isn’t always.”
We both go quiet for a moment.
“Tell me what Murph’s like. He seemed entertaining.”
“He’s cool.” I bite into a chip. “He’s funny, actually. Like ‘ha ha’ funny, not weirdo funny. He’s a good guy to be around. I guess I thought he’d be all stereotypical and like My Little Pony or something, and while he does do some of that stuff, that’s not all there is to him. He likes a lot of the same things I do.”
“Oh, god. He watches Forged in Fire?”
“He plays Dungeons & Dragons, too.”
“No. He’s that much of a geek? Oh no.”
I chuckle. “Hey, geeks make the world go round.”
“He’s your perfect roommate, then.”
“He’s actually becoming a friend.”
She bites a nail. “So tell me. Did I do good? It sounds like I did good, but I need positive reinforcement.”
“You did,” I assure her.
“You should, you know, go somewhere fun together. Take him to a beer festival. Or a movie.”
“He’s not my date. And he likes sangria, not beer.”
She stares at me. “You’re hanging out with him. I’m just suggesting you go do something fun.”
“We hang out and watch movies,” I say. “And I’m glad to have someone to cook for. I wasn’t in the market for a new best friend, but he’s a candidate.”
“Uh-huh. Interesting.”
The look on her face is strange, so I change the subject. “Have you heard from Mom lately?”
“Nope. You told me she was off in New Mexico.” And now she changes the subject fast. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You and Marnie.” She sighs. “I think Marnie likes you more than you like her.”
Becky and Marnie have been best friends since high school. It’s a little weird, perhaps, that Marnie and I are fucking, but Becky never seemed to have a problem with it. Over the years, she’s kept introducing me to women, but they never seem to do it for me. For now, Marnie’s good for me, and I’m good for her.
At least I think so.
But this news? I don’t like it.
“Don’t tell me that,” I say. “She and I have talked about what we’re doing. More than once. She’s the one who came up with most of our rules.”
“Oh, she thinks she’s a big girl and can handle it. And yes, she’s perfectly mature. But when emotions get in the way, we’re all more vulnerable than we’d admit. I just get this sense …”
My gut sinks. Marnie’s the last person I want to hurt.
“Are you and Marnie ever going to be more than what you are?” she continues.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think so. We talked about this from the very beginning. I don’t think it’s going to change.”
Or, if it changes, it’ll be from me calling things off with her.
“But people do change, Jason. If they’re lucky, over time they become who they really are meant to be.”
I can’t help but think of Murph. Who’s always expressing who he really is.
If only I could do that, too.
* * *
I’m kicking back on the couch late Thursday night watching TV when I hear the key in the door and Murph comes in. I can tell he’s tired by the way he’s a little grayer than usual—but he perks right up when he sees me.
“What are you doing up?” he asks.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Aww, poor Jay Jay.”
No one else calls me Jay Jay. It’d make me feel like a kid from anyone else, but I don’t mind it when Murph says it. From him, it’s just the way he is.
“Want me to make you some warm milk and crackers?” Murph continues.
I stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, I’m kidding, but I would if you wanted me to. Or I can mix you a drink.”
“That sounds better.”
Murph sets down his man purse and goes into the kitchen. He washes his hands and then gets out two dark purple glasses and a bottle of rum. He makes some sort of drink and brings one over to me, then crashes at the opposite end of the couch. “I really like these glasses,” he says, inspecting his.
“Thanks. How was work?”
“Well, wifey-poo, that place was hopping. We have some new varietals in, and Tanner made a production out of it. It was a big night.”
“Sorry I missed it.” I sip my drink. It’s delicious. “Also, wifey-poo?”
“What would you rather have me call you?”
“Jason is fine.”
His shoulders slump, and it’s like I took all of the life out of him, goddammit. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
Murph’s voice has gone quiet, and I turn to face him, holding up a hand. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I don’t want to be the one to dull your shine. If you want to call me anything, please do it.” My voice lowers, and I say, “Don’t ever stop using nicknames.”
He studies me and takes a sip of his drink. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I sigh. “It’s been a long day.”
But seeing him has made me happier than I ever expected.
He gives me a smile. “Yeah, it has, wifey-poo.”
And I burst out laughing.
As we chill in the living room, he tells me more about his evening. “I should visit you at work sometime,” I say, when he’s done.
“You’d class up the joint.” He smirks. “Kidding, kidding. Don’t let Harrison hear me say that. V and V is a nice place, not some dive bar. Although you don’t have to go there to get me to make you a drink.”
“You make good ones.” I drain my glass. “What is this?”
“A dark ’n’ stormy. Rum, ginger beer—the good stuff—and lime juice. Want another?”
“Sure.”
Murph goes into the kitchen and comes back with two fresh drinks and a bag of pretzels.
“Can I ask you something?” He toys with his glass. When he glances up at me, his eyes tell me he’s serious.
“Anything.” I sit up straighter.
“You started cooking for your family because your mom left, right?”
“Yeah. When I was in elementary school.”
“Why did she leave?”
My chest tightens. I think what he’s asking is, what did I feel about her leaving? I haven’t really ever talked about this with anyone other than Becky. But the alcohol’s making me not hold back, and I’m starting to think of Murph as a real friend.
“Becky and I used to hear our parents fight all the time. I tried to always do everything they asked. Like, if I was perfect, they wouldn’t fight. It never worked. One day, Mom just stormed out. She came back a few days later, took her things, and left for good. I was too young to know exactly what was going on, other than it scared me. When she said goodbye, Mom swore up and down that she wasn’t leaving because of anything Becky or I did, she only needed to go take advantage of some ‘opportunities.’ But …” I shrug.
The look on Murph’s face is so compassionate, I almost tear up. I focus on my drink.
“I’m sorry,” he says when it’s evident I’m not going to volunteer more. “Did you see her much after that?”
“Not really. She moved out of state. She started working for this company that puts on conventions, so she’s always traveling. At first, Becky and I would go see her for a month during our summer vacations, but we missed a few summers because she had to work.” I heave out a breath, and my voice cracks. “She couldn’t put aside her own life to see her kids. Dad spouts some bullshit about her having this great career opportunity, but the truth is, she couldn’t stand to be tied down by him or by us.”
“That sucks, Jason.” He offers me the open bag of pretzels, and I take one. I focus on the salt and the crunch, because it’s easier than thinking about my mom.
“With an adult perspective, I think I can sorta see what happened. She was really young when they got together. He was older, and she was in college. I get the impression her parents pressured her to get married and have kids right away. She must’ve felt trapped. I guess she’d had enough.” That tightness in my chest hasn’t loosened, so I force myself to shrug. “Becky barely speaks to her. I guess I’ve gotten over it. Mostly.”
“Parents can really fuck you up.”
I study him. “Are you speaking from experience?”
Murph nods. “My mom is great. She just wasn’t around, because she worked nights. But my dad’s an addict. He abandoned us, too, even though we still lived in the same house. Anyone who’d pick cards or slot machines over his family has got problems.”
A rueful laugh escapes me. “Jesus, Murph. What did you put in these drinks? Truth serum? It’s depressing the hell out of us.”
“Sorry. My fault. I asked the questions.” He looks at me, and I get the idea he’s seeing deep into me. That could be the booze talking, though. “It’s funny how kids react when they can’t rely on their parents.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were all Mr. Perfect. I went the opposite direction. I was so desperate for someone to pay attention to me that the first chance I could, I fell into a relationship without realizing how toxic it was.”
“Your ex?” I’ve been curious but didn’t know how to bring it up with him.
“Yeah. Dirk. More than two years of my life being jerked around.”
I’m trying to picture the kind of man Murph would be with. “What was he like?”
“He’s a few years older, and I’d been friends with his sister for a while.” He gives me an ironic smile. “If you haven’t noticed, I can be a bit of a flirt, so I used to tease him all the time. I liked him—he seemed sophisticated, and he paid attention to me. One night we were out, he had a drink or two and told me he’d liked me for years, and we hooked up. Then he froze me out for a week. Then he apologized, told me he’d freaked out because he’d never been with a man before but that I was special, and took me to a suite at the Wynn. And … rinse and repeat.” Murph’s eyes are overbright. “I wanted someone to love me, and he could be so dashing, make these romantic gestures. Send me dozens of roses with the card signed ‘from your one and only,’ stuff like that. He reminded me of Clark Gable or some movie star.” Murph holds up his drink. “Except when he was drunk. Then he was just a piece of shit. But foolish me thought it was soo special when he took me to these exclusive places where we knew no one. I was impressed because he was rich and he thought I was worth the best. In reality, we went to private suites because he had to keep me a secret.”
I echo his comment to me. “That sucks.”
“So much suckage. He’d tell me he loved me and we’d be together in the end—that if I waited a little bit longer, he’d come out. First it was going to be when we moved to Vermont, because it was a new place, new school, all that. But then he met all these new people and had to impress them, so he said he’d come out at the end of the semester, after he finished taking his exams. Or the summer. I believed him—I wanted to believe him—but it just never happened.”
“What happened to change that? I’m assuming you left him?”
He nods. “V and V helped. I looked around at the friends I was making and saw their healthy, loving, visible relationships and started wondering why I couldn’t have that, too. I woke up one day with the power of a Gloria Gaynor song in my heart and told him we were done. I swore I was never going to be with a closeted man again.”
“Sounds like you’ve come a long way.”
“I have,” he says. “I learned to set healthy boundaries.” He grabs the remote. “Enough of the heavy stuff. Feel like watching something set in outer space?”
I grin. “Anything you want.”
As we watch the movie, I feel like a weight’s been taken off my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying.