The next day Brendan said he wanted to go to Rossford for the weekend, and Sheridan said, “There’s no reason you shouldn’t go now. I’ll watch Rafe, and then we’ll come down and join you Friday night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally,” Sheridan said, looking at Brendan’s desk doubtfully. “You’re not getting anything done here.”
“You’re off this weekend?”
“I got Saturday, but I work Sunday.”
Bren packed a bag and rode the Purple Line to Howard and then the Red Line down to Randolph Street. He caught the afternoon South Shore and was in Rossford before three. Without thinking about it he had called Layla to pick him up and when he arrived at the station, she assessed him and declared, “You look good after all.”
“Thanks,” Brendan said, “I think.”
“No, it’s a compliment,” Layla said. “Fenn was sure you were having some sort of trauma.”
“Why?”
“He said anytime anyone calls and says they’re coming home for a few days it must be a trauma.”
Brendan thought about this, but said nothing.
“Where are you staying?” Layla asked.
“I hadn’t really thought of it.”
“You can always stay with us. I’m not going to be home all afternoon, though.”
“Drop me off at Fenn’s,” Brendan said.
“Oh,” Layla looked mildly delighted.
“What?”
“There is a surprise. There is a trauma.”
“Whaddo you mean?” Brendan sat up.
“You need to have a heart to heart with Fenn!”
“Wow, you need to just drive.”
“Yessir Massuh Massuh.”
“So did you call him back?” Fenn said as he placed a cup of sugary coffee in front of Brendan.
“No. I almost did, but then I remembered the last time we were actually anything. I remembered that Christmas when I was going back to our house, to rekindle things, and there he was… with Ruthven.”
Fenn cleared his throat.
“You never did like Ruthven,” Brendan said.
“No,” Fenn’s voice was brittle.
Fenn knew now that on that very night Ruthven had asked Dylan to have sex with him, and when Dylan had refused him, his husband’s nephew had moved, without a breath, to Kenny.
“Are you still thinking about him?” Fenn said.
“Yes. A little.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Fenn got up and lit a cigarette from the stove, inhaling. He blew smoke from his nostrils.
“Are you thinking of having an affair?”
Brendan opened his mouth and then closed it.
“I was,” he said. “Now, I’m just thinking of seeing him. I would like to be in the same room with him and see what would happen.”
Fenn said nothing. His face betrayed nothing.
“Fenn,” Brendan leaned forward, “if I tell you something very private, will you not share it?”
“Not even with Todd? Because, I mean, if its really private and juicy—”
“Fenn!”
“Oh, fuck! Goddamnit, sure, I’ll keep a secret.”
“Sheridan sort of okayed it.”
“Sheridan knows about all this?”
“Yes. Sheridan knows everything. We don’t have secrets. We’re not like other couples. Or, fuck, I don’t know. Maybe we are.”
“Okay?” Fenn raised an eyebrow.
“You have to not share this. I’m not ashamed. I’m just… I don’t need everyone to know.”
“Then you should probably tell me before anyone else arrives.”
“Last year me and Sheridan went to that party at Chay and Casey’s. Logan was there. A few others.”
Brendan thought it best to leave Ruthven out of it. At the time he had forgotten that Ruthven had been with Kenny.
“I imagine,” Fenn said, remembering his time at Guy McClintock’s house, so many years ago, “that you saw some things you hadn’t done before.”
“Fenn, I did some things I’d never done before.”
Fenn nodded.
“It ended up in a sex party.”
Fenn, for once, looked genuinely amazed.
“You had sex with Sheridan in a roomful of people.”
“Fenn, Sheridan and I had sex, but not with each other. And it was in front of each other.”
“Damn.”
“I’m not even going to ask what you think of that.”
“I don’t even know what I think of it.”
“And I know it sounds crazy and I definitely do not recommend it for… anyone. But for us it changed things and I realized that it didn’t make me love Sheridan less, or him me. So, when Sheridan told me to go see Kenny—”
“Sheridan told you?”
“Yes. And I guess whatever happens happens. But it can’t happen without Sheridan knowing. I won’t do anything behind my husband’s back.”
Fenn’s cigarette had gone out and, at last, he said, “Huh.”
Brendan took one of Fenn’s cigarettes. He went to the stove and bent down to light it. It was a few moments before he spoke.
“I’m going up to Chicago tomorrow. Just for the day. Just for a few hours. I’m going to see Kenny, and then I’ll be back here before the night’s over.”
Fenn still had not spoken and when Brendan pointed it out he said, “Relationships are so different. I mean, I was wondering what Dylan would do? Or Lance?”
“You don’t have any advice?”
Fenn shrugged. “You probably shouldn’t fuck him,”
Bren said, “I can’t promise you that.”
