Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
He glanced at Emma’s youthful, glowing face, feeling guilty as he admitted in stark terms she had never been enough. Yes, he had loved her, and she had loved him too, but the passion, and even beyond that, the ease he felt with Will, were completely new to him.
Though he mourned her death—of course he did—he wondered if he would have spent the rest of his life incomplete, and unaware of this incompletion. Had she felt the same way? Or was such a concept beyond her ken? Was the question even fair? Probably not. Nor was there much point to such speculation.
He had been as good a husband as he knew how to be when she was alive. Now, it seemed, he was about to start a new life, a whole new way of thinking and of being he’d only just begun to grasp.
There was no question it was harder to be involved with another man. Society, at least this society, still frowned and judged, for all its pretended acceptance in the media. Gay men were still the butt of jokes about interior decorators and limp-wristed handshakes. They were still the target of degradation, discrimination and violence, based solely on their sexual orientation.
Even in his own family, the bigotry and misunderstanding existed—Eric a perfect case in point. Even his own reaction, when he’d seen Paul and Will kissing at Will’s door, had been one of disapproval beneath the jealousy. Men shouldn’t indulge in public displays of affection, certainly not with each other.
And yet, why not? Why was it okay for a man and woman to kiss at their own front door, but not two men? Why could two women walk hand in hand down the street, but not two men?
He was beginning to recognize the courage it took just to be gay in a straight, reactionary society. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had the courage it took to face his own feelings honestly.
Would he tell his sisters? Anna, he felt, would understand. But would her husband? Would his other sisters, or his mother, for that matter, who was still alive? Would he bring Will home to family dinners and Christmas Eve? When Eric married, would he bring Will to the wedding as his significant other?
Jack shook his head. He was jumping the gun and he knew it. They had yet to say they loved each other and here he was bringing Will home for family holidays in his head.
Did he love Will?
Yes.
If love meant having your heart clutch with joy each time you saw someone, then yes. If it meant thrilling to their touch, be it casual or sensual, no matter what, then yes. If it meant wanting to protect them and care for them and make them happy, putting those things even before your own happiness, then yes. He loved Will.
While this was exciting, a feeling he never thought he’d experience, indeed, barely knew existed, it was also terrifying. Not just because they were both men, but because Will was so much younger.
He believed Will was sincere in his affection, but how long could it last? They were fourteen years apart. It wasn’t an impossible span, but it was significant. They were of different generations. They’d grown up with different music, different life experiences. Jack had been married when Will was only four years old.
Was it possible for two such people to make a life together?
Stop it. Jack punched the mattress, annoyed with himself. Who the hell was talking about making a life together? They’d known each other a month, for God’s sake. They’d only been intimate for less than a week.
Live in the moment.
That’s what the affirmation book someone had given him when Emma had died had said. It was good advice, he knew. The past was done, the future was unknowable. Just live now, savor the joy that is now.
The doorbell rang and Jack forgot about the joy. Eric was waiting, no doubt ready with a new sermon about his father’s “bad behavior”. Jack sighed and moved toward the stairs, calling, “Come on in. The door’s open.”
Chapter 15
“Hey, Dad.”
“Eric. Come in.” Jack peered at his son. He looked awful—wretched and woebegone. Surely he couldn’t be this miserable over Jack. Something else must be wrong. “Son, what’s the matter?”
“It’s Lisa,” Eric said softly. “I called her. You know, about all this. We still talk every night even though she’s ‘taking a break’ as she says.” He smiled a bitter smile. “Anyway, I thought she’d understand what I’m going through, but instead she bit my head off.” He looked indignantly at his father, as if he were somehow to blame.
They had walked into the kitchen as they talked, the center of family life when the boys still lived at home. Jack raised his eyebrows in question, not choosing to speculate just what Eric meant. He stirred the spaghetti sauce he had simmering on the stove and waited for Eric to continue.