Monday nights sucked.
They didn’t suck because it was the start of the workweek or because I was any more tired than normal. It was simply because Mondays were one of the nights Steven and I didn’t stay together.
We’d fallen into a pattern in the last three weeks where I spent Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday nights with him.
So really, it wasn’t just Monday nights that sucked. Sunday, Wednesday, and Thursday were also equally terrible.
But today was Monday, and I’d gone to the gym after work, come home to my drab little apartment, showered, and ate dinner. I contemplated going to bed, but eight felt a little too early for that. I tried to talk myself into it by saying I was tired, but the truth was, I was just bored and lonely.
I wanted to be with Steven. I didn’t want to be sitting here on my brown couch staring at my bare walls listening to the clock tick. I wanted to be tangled up with him, listening to him chatter on about…anything, everything.
But I guessed we were taking things slow, in a way. I think Steven thought three nights together a week wasn’t slow. At first, he seemed reluctant to have me spend the night during the week, but I was persuasive and hated waiting until the weekend to see him. He also thought introducing his friends to me after three weeks together was near-disastrously premature. I didn’t feel the same, obviously. I was eager for all of it.
I had to remind myself that Steven was a little behind me. I had jumped into the deep end with both feet, and he hadn’t even known he was in the pool. I’d been falling in love with him for weeks before he knew I was interested.
Love.
Yes, love. That’s what was happening here, what this had become for me. Everything felt both tentative and passionate. Fragile and powerful. I felt like I was on the cusp of forever—a hairsbreadth from having everything I ever wanted. But also like I was one misstep away from ruining my whole life.
I was just getting ready to call Steven, wanting to hear his voice and wish him a good night, when Kari called. I hadn’t heard from her in a couple of weeks and felt, in this lonely moment, stupid-happy to talk to her.
“Happy Monday, Dr. Miles.” She sounded cheerful.
“Dr. Miles,” I greeted in return. Since we were both doctors, we’d occasionally play this game that almost always ended with me joking that it was unfair I had to address her as such when her doctorate was in educational policy and I was an MD. She played like it pissed her off, but we both loved the game. “You sound happy. Everything going according to plan with the wedding?”
“I’m so glad you asked!” she exclaimed. Then, with an about-face, she went into full-blown drill sergeant mode. “I need you to come home for a fitting. ASAP. Like, this weekend.”
“Ah, God, Kari, I can’t do it this weekend. I have plans.” And I did. I had plans on Saturday to do a long run rather than doing it on Sunday because Steven wanted to join me for the short version. I also planned on spending both days with him.
“Plans.” She sounded pissed, which aggravated me.
“Yes, plans.” I mimicked her tone. “I’m conditioning for the half-marathon in a couple of weeks, and I have a date.”
“A run? You’re putting me off for a run? You can’t find a few hours to hop on a plane, hug Nana—who’s been on my ass about you by the way—get fitted, and get back on another plane to go home? We’re talking one afternoon, Ken.”
Her attitude that my very limited personal time should be devoted to her and her plans annoyed the hell out of me.
This could not stand.
“Why is Nana on your ass about me?” I dodged her other questions, perversely stoking her ire.
She scoffed. “She says she wants you to go through Pop’s stuff and take what you want before she dies so that, and I quote, ‘the rest of the vultures don’t screw Kenny out of it.’”
I shook my head in exasperation, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Our grandmother had been talking about her imminent death for decades. I was sure she used it as a way of getting her busy and ungrateful family to show her some attention, but at this point, we were all immune to the guilt. Plus, I kept abreast of her health and knew her to be doing exceptionally well.
“So why is she on your ass about it? She has my number. She can call me.”
“That’s what I told her, but apparently, you’re a very busy and important big-city doctor and can’t be bothered all the time,” Kari groused. “As if I’m not busy enough, I have to be her go-between.”
“Well,” I drawled, tsking. “You do only have an EdD, and I’m an MD,” I teased. “She knows what’s up.”
“Screw you, buddy,” she laughed, but it was thin and tinged with irritation. “I’m working fifty-hour weeks and planning a wedding.” She was quiet for a moment then said, “Doug, Brandon’s best man, is going on vacation and won’t be available for a couple of weeks either. Justine just informed me that she’s pregnant and will probably be showing by then and she’s freaking out about the style of the bridesmaid gowns. I’m feeling very impotent right now and at the mercy of everyone else’s schedules.”
I wanted to say, So, elope if you don’t want to deal with everyone else’s pesky lives. Instead, I tried to remind her that it would be fine. “You have two months. Everything is going to work out perfectly.”
“And now you’re leaving me high and dry for a jog and a piece of ass. Nice.”
I felt a little bad. I would have liked to take Steven with me and introduce him to Kari, but meeting family could possibly be out of his comfort zone. And the truth of it was, I didn’t want to be away from him after King had approached him on Saturday. On Sunday we’d talked about it. I’d been angry that we’d gone to the same club where Steven had met him. But it did seem as if the meeting had been accidental, and not a case of stalking. Steven assured me that the man wasn’t a threat and I made him promise that if King contacted him in any way, he’d involve his boss. He wasn’t happy, but I said either he would, or I would.
Despite that promise and all his reassurances, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving town without him by my side.
“I really can’t this weekend but let me see what I can do next weekend. Otherwise, I won’t be able to come until after the run in September.”
“Fine,” she moaned. “This date…is it a first date or…”
“No, I’m seeing somebody.”
“Ooh, do tell,” she cooed. “Blonde?”
I laughed. I knew where this was headed. “Yes, but not as light as mine.”
“Uh-huh. And blue eyes, right?”
“More of a gray, but yeah.”
“Thin.” This was a statement and not a question.
“I’d say ‘lean,’ not skinny,” I clarified. “And to answer your next question, no, he’s not short, he’s only like an inch or two shorter than I am.”
“I swear, you are such a narcissist. Why you choose people who look like you is—” She paused, awareness infiltrating her brain. “Wait, HE?”
“Yes. His name is Steven, and even though it’s still kind of new, I’m certain I’m in love with him.” It felt great to say that aloud. As soon as I said the words, I knew it was the truth. I loved him. And, god, it felt good to talk about him with Kari. She was the only person in my life who I felt close enough to unburden myself. She’d seen me through my rift with my dad, adjusting to life in Chicago, and stressful times during med school.
There was an unexpected stunned pause. Alarmed, I said, “Kari?”
“What, so you’re gay now?” Her tone was sharp, derisive, and I was taken aback.
“Um, no. I’m bi and you know that.” She did know it. After the shit show with Dad, I’d turned to her for consolation and she had stepped up. All pep talks and love. I couldn’t understand this dismissal or selective amnesia.
“What I know is that you went through an experimental phase in college but that you got over it when Dad set you straight.”
I gripped my phone so tightly it made a cracking noise. Not Kari. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears. She’d been sympathetic to me back then. Had she been lying to pacify me? Hoping I’d get over it?
“Being bisexual was never a phase,” I spat, standing suddenly. “It’s been my reality before, during, and after college and it will continue to be my reality for the rest of my life! What’s so hard to understand about that?” I yelled.
“Whatever,” she said coolly. “Tell me, when you haven’t mentioned anyone but women over the last decade, what was I supposed to have assumed. Dad talked to you and you continued with women. Experiment over.”
Her calm, snide tone enraged me. “Name one woman, other than Angie, who I’ve referenced since Dad set me straight?” My voice rivaled hers for snideness.
“I don’t keep up with your revolving door of ass, Ken. What’s your—”
“You can’t,” I interrupted. “You know why? Because Steven and Angie are the only people I’ve been with in all this time who lasted more than two weeks. No one else, male or female, have been worth even a passing mention to you.”
“Fine. You’re bi and you’re in a homosexual relationship. The whole family thinks you’re this straight, handsome, brilliant, young doctor. When you show up with this guy on your arm at my wedding, what do you think is going to happen, hmm?”
I was silent. Silent because she was making this about her now, and I was shocked. She was my one real confidant and she didn’t know me—or at least didn’t want to know who I really was. I felt adrift and lonelier than I had before she called.
“It won’t matter,” she continued. “It won’t matter that I look amazing in my dress that I’ve starved myself to squeeze into. It won’t matter that Mom and Dad shelled out tens of thousands to make my wedding perfect. It won’t matter that you’ve finished your fellowship and now have an enviable position at a top-notch hospital. The only thing anyone will be thinking about is which of you is the woman in the relationship.”
I growled, “What the fuck is your problem?” Who was this person? Maybe I didn’t know my sister, either.
“You know it’s true. Even the ones who are completely supportive will find the gossip too fun to ignore. You’ll be a spectacle.”
Our family and their circle of friends were mostly kind, accepting people, but they were nosy. What did it matter? Why should we care? Was she saying all of this because she imagined that a fraction of attention will be moved from her to me? That was stupid.
“And, Dad. He’ll lose his shit on you again. Is that what you want?”
I ignored her. I decided to stop living for his approval a long time ago. His feelings about my relationship with Steven were irrelevant. But there was one thing I needed to know.
“If I decide to bring Steven, am I disinvited?” I asked the question quietly, knowing that our relationship was hanging by a thread.
“If the only way I can get you to come to my wedding is to allow you to ruin it, I’m not left with a great choice, am I?”
We were both silent for a long moment until she sighed wearily. “I can’t deal with this right now. When you can find time to come home for a fitting, give me a call and we can talk about this. We will both have had time to calm down and think rationally.”
I opened my mouth to say that time wasn’t going to erase her selfishness, but she’d already disconnected.