Chapter Twenty-Two

AFTER TOMAS ENDED our call, I had an unexpected visitor. John stopped by, and he came bearing Chinese food.

In any long-term friendship, you start to develop certain habits that allow the other person to know what is really going on in your life. With John, it was his choice of food. Thai food meant his parents had pissed him off; nachos meant the Browns had lost; and Chinese meant he’d broken up with a girl. We eat nachos and Chinese a lot, sometimes together.

John saw me looking at the food and figured he would preempt my question. “Carol and I broke up.”

“Was this blonde Carol or brunette Carol?”

“This was brunette Carol. I broke up with blonde Carol about six months ago.”

“I thought you liked this one.”

“I did, but Carol broke up with me. She said I wasn’t serious enough about the relationship.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive. I know it sounds funny coming from me, but I would like to find someone to finally settle down with. I’m in my late twenties, and I don’t want to become one of those guys in their forties always trying to hit on women. Don’t tell me you haven’t worried about the same thing.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m having trouble seeing anything beyond the case I’m on right now.”

“I was wondering about that. How are things going?”

As we sat down to eat the Chinese, I gave him the complete rundown. I usually tried to keep my cases confidential, but this one was different. I really needed an outside opinion, and I couldn’t exactly ask my mother. I told John everything from my first conversation with Father Lawrence through our attempt to lure Dr. Grieve and Mary Dhillon through the Private Matters website. The only thing I didn’t tell him was Tomas’s name. I owed him that.

When I mentioned my conversation with Father Lawrence regarding confession, John said, “That doesn’t sound like you. It almost seems like you’re coming back to the Church.”

“I’m not coming back. I just feel like I need to understand it better. Didn’t you always wonder about confession when we were growing up?”

“I tried not to think about it. My only goal was to get through penance as quickly as possible so that I could be free for another week.”

When I finished my summary, John looked genuinely impressed. He thought all my cases involved peering through hotel windows. This case sounded like something on TV, involving several cities and its own serial killer. He asked me how I liked working with Hannah.

“I never thought I’d say this, but it’s been fun. Hannah’s annoying, and she questions everything I do. With this case, that’s actually been helpful.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m amazed the Cleveland PD is letting her work with you.”

“I was surprised myself. When we started, Hannah told me she didn’t have any real friends in the department. That being said, I spoke to her partner, and he seems to think of her like a daughter.”

I took a quick bite of kung pau chicken. “She also has relationship issues with her parents. Her mother is a Cleveland district attorney, and her father is a congressman. Neither of them ever liked that she became a cop. From the way she describes them, their personal relationships are as political as their professional lives. Overall, I think she just wants them to accept her for what she is.”

“And what do you think she is?”

“To start, I think she’s a hell of a detective. Hannah’s smart, tough, fun to be around, and yes, we’ve been sleeping together since day one. She was the one who first asked me to spend the night. Since then, she’s also slept over at my place. To this day, I’m still not sure why she’s interested.”

“Stop overthinking everything. Maybe she just likes you and wants to have sex.”

“That’s just it. Why me? She’s good-looking, has a great body, and loves sex. She was, and technically still is, married. Be warned—if you tell her I said that, I will shoot you and hide your body somewhere in the Chagrin Reservation.”

“She’s technically married. Is that like being technically pregnant?”

“Now you stole my line.”

“So you being transgender was never an issue?”

“The first time we slept together, she asked if I’d considered the surgery.”

“Good for her. Did you tell her I called you a wimp for backing out?”

“Somehow, that didn’t come up. I guess I’m still wondering why she likes me. Is this just to torment her parents?”

“You’re the smartest guy I know,” John said, “and you’re also the biggest idiot. You’re questioning whether this woman likes you. She invited you back to her place, and she also came over here and slept on that little thing you call a bed. To add to that, she asked you to go on a trip to New Orleans.”

John leaned back in his chair before continuing. “You’re going to hate me for saying this, but when it comes to relationships, you still sound like a teenager. You said Hannah doesn’t have any friends in the police department. You also said she feels alienated from her parents but still hopes to win their approval. You pride yourself on being logical. On the one hand, you can believe she’s dating you as part of an agenda. This smart lady has decided that dating a transgender guy will somehow help gain the approval of her parents and her fellow cops. Does that sound logical to you? Conversely, you could believe she’s dating you because she likes you. Why does she like you? Who the hell cares? Quit overanalyzing everything. Just grow a pair and be glad she does.”

“Looking at it that way, I guess I do sound like a teenager.”

“Don’t let it interfere with your relationship. You’ll regret it if you do.”

“John, can I ask you something? I know you have other friends. Have any of them ever given you shit about hanging out with me?”

“I can think of two.”

“What happened?”

“Not much. I haven’t talked to either of them since then.”

I didn’t know how to reply, so I just said thank you. We’ve known each other most of our lives, and I was beginning to wonder what other sacrifices John had made to keep our friendship going.

John knew I was thanking him for more than just getting rid of two friends. Emotions were running high, and we did what most guys do in those moments—we changed the subject. Video games are perfect for those situations, so we settled in to play Mortal Kombat.

About twenty minutes into our game, I had another visitor. To my surprise, it was Hannah. I hadn’t expected to see her that evening. When we’d parted ways, she’d complained of jet lag and said she needed some rest.

I let Hannah in and introduced her to John.

“It’s good to meet another friend of Terry’s; it’s a pretty exclusive club,” John said, his usual charming self. “If he ever gets on your nerves, just call me. I know all his embarrassing secrets.”

“That’s okay. I’m having fun learning them myself.”

John offered to leave and let us discuss the case. By that time, Hannah had spotted the Mortal Kombat game in progress on my TV.

“You should stay,” she said. “I’ll watch while you guys kill each other.”

“You sure you don’t want to play?” I asked. “I have a third controller.”

“Aren’t you afraid I might beat you?”

“Beating me is an awfully low bar. The only one lower,” I said, pointing to John, “is beating him.”

John responded by throwing the third controller in an arc that would have reached my head if I hadn’t caught it in time. The three of us settled down to play for the next hour, and Hannah beat us both quite handily.

“I thought you owned a gun,” she said to me. “Have you ever bothered to fire it?”

John also conceded defeat and stood to leave. As he and I walked to the door, he whispered, “I like her. Don’t fuck this up.”

After John left, Hannah stood to face me. “He seems to fit you as a friend.”

“Better than I could ever tell you.”

“I know you’re probably wondering why I came over tonight. I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything I can do, I will.”

“Don’t say yes until you hear me out. Tomorrow is my birthday.”

“That’s great! You should have told me sooner.”

“Not so great. My parents want to take me out to dinner. The idea of spending an evening alone with them gives me hives.”

“So where do I come in?”

Hannah hesitated, suddenly taking great interest in the color of my carpeting. Finally, she spoke. “I want you to come with me. They told me I could invite a guest. I think they were hoping I’d bring my ex. You were the first person I considered.”

“Are you sure you thought this through? I’m not exactly the kind of guy you invite to meet Mom and Dad.”

“We’re not getting married; we’re going out to dinner. I need someone with me who’s halfway normal, or my parents will drive me insane. Every time I see them, I feel like they’re trying to bring me over to the dark side. Since I know you’re going to ask, I did tell them about you.”

“How did they react?”

“I think they were torn. My mother looked appalled and asked if I knew what I was doing. My father was excited about meeting you. He always wanted an inroad to the LGBTQ community.”

“I’m not part of any community. I hate communities.”

“I told him. He still thinks you can help.”

“That raises the question of how you want me to play this. Do you want the real me, or do you want the sanitized version of me?”

“I didn’t know there was a sanitized version of you. Be yourself. I’m not trying to play up to my parents.”

“I hear you say that, but I have to ask—are you sure part of you isn’t still seeking their approval? That wouldn’t exactly be unusual. I do the same with my mom.”

I could see by her face that she was furious. This was the look she’d given the kid on the airplane coming back to Cleveland, only dialed up by a factor of ten.

“Do you think any of this is easy? You grew up with parents who liked you. You may have been different than they expected, but they liked you anyway. Do you know how damned lucky you are?”

Hannah said all this while smiling. For someone who didn’t know her, that might seem incongruous. I did know her, and I knew she had two smiles. The first, not-scary one brightened her entire face. It was, for lack of a better word, joyful.

This was the second one. Upon seeing it, a wiser man would have backed down. Since I was now also pissed, I kept plowing forward.

“You’re right. My relationship with my parents is totally different than yours, or at least it was in the case of my father. That doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced rejection. Do you want to know about my friends growing up? You just met the only one. Did that bother me? Absolutely it did, but I got over it, and you need to do the same. If you don’t, it’s going to eat you up inside.

“You are a bright, beautiful woman who’s exceptionally good at what you do. If your parents don’t like that, then screw them. It’s their problem, not yours, and you need to keep reminding yourself of that. If you do, these dinners will be a lot easier to take.”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. She stepped forward, and for a second, I thought she might slap me. Maybe she considered it, but she put her head on my shoulder instead. Having no idea what to say, I let her cry it out.

I could tell she was exhausted, so I eventually moved her to my bed. She lay down without prompting and fell asleep almost immediately. There was no way I could move her, so I laid a blanket on the floor and grabbed an extra pillow for myself. I watched her for a while before I fell asleep. That was as close as we’d get that night.

I woke up at seven and attempted to fix breakfast. Given the state of my pantry, that pretty much limited us to Captain Crunch. Hannah woke up about ten minutes after me. I wished her happy birthday, and she apologized for being so melodramatic.

“I thought about it,” she said, “and you were right. I spend too much time worrying about my parents. I’ve told myself that before, so you’re going to have to keep reminding me.”

“The funny thing is,” I said, “John gave me essentially the same advice last night. I’ve never been great at relationships, and he’s worried I’m going to drive you away.”

“For now, I’m inclined to put up with you. That being said, will you still come to dinner tonight?”

“Tell me when and where.”

It occurred to me that I’d just agreed to go to dinner with a cop, a prosecutor, and a politician. It sounded like a bad joke, and Hannah sensed my hesitation.

“I said it yesterday, but I want to say it again—you should feel free to be yourself. That’s why I like hanging out with you.”

“I thought it was my dashing good looks.”

She didn’t respond—so much for my good looks.

Luckily, Hannah had anticipated staying over last night and had brought over a change of clothes. After joining me for a healthy breakfast of sugar-infused cereal, she excused herself to use my shower. We had a morning appointment at the airport, but it still took an act of will not to go in there with her.

About fifteen minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, wet and undressed, to ask if I had an extra towel. We were going to be late for our eight-thirty appointment. My willpower only went so far.