Page 28 of Don’t Call Me Son

I turn to him, deadpan. Without saying a word, I pull my house keys out of my pocket and drop them on the floor; the metallic clink sounds final. Then I walk out.

I head straight to the nearest bus stop, bag slung over my shoulder, feeling unwanted and lonely all over again. But the fact that Jay is so willing to let me stay makes me smile just a little.

Colt

I’m just standing here, staring at Archie’s keys on the floor like they’re a bomb that might go off. My jaw clenches repeatedly.

Sarah lets out a sad little huff behind me and turns, stomping up the stairs. She’s probably upset that her son just walked out like that; said he was leaving and then actually left. I don’t follow her; it wouldn’t do any good right now. She’ll probably just fall asleep on our bed, exhausted and hurt.

I walk over slowly and pick up the keys; they’re still warm from Archie’s hand. Then drop them into the bowl by the door with a quiet clink. I inhale sharply, not even sure what I’m feeling anymore, and head into the living room. Slumping down hard into the armchair, I stare out the window, hands curled tight around the edges of the armrests. So many thoughts are crashing through my head.

Of course Archie reacted like this. I’ve been giving him every spare second I had for the past two weeks; touching him, fucking him, praising him, holding him, and treating him. The amount of sex we’ve had is ridiculous… but so fucking good. Hell, today was the first time I’ve had sex with Sarah in three weeks. She’s always busy, or tired, or it’s her time of the month, or she has a headache. We’re just at that stage in our marriage where it isn’t as regular anymore because life gets in the way.

And of course, of course, this is the exact day Archie happens to have the afternoon off and comes home early. I run a hand down my face and laugh bitterly. The universe really fucked me over today; couldn’t have been a bigger coincidence if you tried.

This is probably karma; probably the universe telling me to be better for my wife. To stop leading Archie on the way I have been. I really shouldn’t have caved that morning; I really shouldn’t have started any of this with him.

I didn’t even finish having sex with Sarah. She got up, got dressed, and immediately started worrying about where Archie had gone. I was still mostly dressed; I just sorted myself out and jumped in the truck, driving around hoping to find him so we could talk privately. But I didn’t get the chance… and now he’s just… gone.

He’s got to come home at some point, right? I shake my head, remembering how full that duffel bag looked; he probably won’t need to come back for a while.

So that’s it then… Archie’s gone; he’s done. Fuck. I knew I could never have both of them; I knew it from the start. But it still hurts like shit. Archie is smart, kind, and so fucking gorgeous; I don’t think I could ever look at him like he’s just my stepson again.

Chapter Eleven

Archie

Three nights later I’m sprawled on Jay’s couch, legs stretched out, watching reruns of some old funny sitcom we’ve both seen a million times. Jay cracked open the beers tonight, and we’re both pretty tipsy. He’s been really kind these past few days; didn’t ask too many questions when I finally showed up at his door with a duffel bag and a shitty mood. I just told him I walked in on my mom and Colt having sex. He winced and said he did that once with his own parents and couldn’t look them in the eye for three weeks. “It’s awkward as hell, especially when you’re an adult.” I didn’t tell him the rest, obviously.

It’s been… refreshing; freeing, even. Seeing what life looks like without anyone hovering, without feeling like a guest in your own home. Just independence; Jay’s little studio apartment is messy and lived-in, and I like it.

It’s late now, about half nine. We’ve definitely had too much to drink and will probably have to ring in sick tomorrow for “hangovers.” We won’t tell the university that though.

Jay’s hand lands on my thigh, warm and familiar; he’s slurring a little when he says, “I’m happy you’re here, man. It’s nice. Usually, it’s really quiet and kinda boring.”

I nudge him with my shoulder, grinning tipsily. “Well, I’m very grateful that you let me stay.”

We clink our cans together with a dull metallic sound and both take another sip. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling warm and heavy from the beer. It’s nice having a good friend like him.

Jay’s hand stays resting on my thigh, like it belongs there; neither of us really notices or comments on it. We just keep watching the show, laughing at the same old jokes, sipping our beers until the cans are empty and the room feels like it’s spinning.

Eventually Jay yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, I’m done.” Then he stands and points at me, trying to look serious, it’s comical. “You’re not sleeping on the couch again, man. It’s a double bed. Nothing we haven’t done before. Plenty of room.”

I’m drunk enough that it sounds like a good idea. “Yeah… okay.”

I stand up, swaying a little, and strip down to my boxers like I usually do before bed. Jay does the same. We climb into his bed and top-and-tail it, so it doesn’t feel weird, my head near his feet, his near mine. The sheets are cool and smell like his familiar detergent, it’s somehow comforting.

“Night, Arch,” he mumbles, already half-asleep.

“Night, Jay.”

He reaches over and turns the lamp off. The room goes dark except for the faint glow of the city lights coming through the blinds. I listen to his breathing slow down, and before I know it, I’m drifting off too.

Jay

I wake up to the weirdest feeling; like something is wrapped around my legs and squeezing. I fumble half-asleep for the lamp on my bedside table, nearly knocking it over before I manage to click it on. The dim light fills the room, and I crack my eyes open, squinting. Oh… it’s Archie.

He’s dead asleep and clinging to my legs like a koala, arms wrapped around one of my thighs, face pressed against my knee. I let out a quiet, drunk little laugh. Jesus Christ. Well… if it makes him feel better, I’m not gonna move him. He probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it; definitely something his subconscious brain decided on.