Parsons

(A/N: As this is my first story/series, feedback/comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading)

-

"So it's been, what, three weeks?"

"Yup."

"And no text."

"Nope."

"No call?"

"Just telemarketers."

"Honestly, Heath, they might be dead."

"You are not funny," I scolded, taking a crouton and aiming it at Aaron's forehead. A miss, but a valiant attempt. "I did contemplate it, but it just made it worse."

"Worse?" Aaron asked, brushing off crumbs from his suit jacket.

I picked up my fork and stabbed some lettuce onto it, a bit more aggressive than I intended. "They went on a double date with Bradley and his girlfriend. She's Landon's cousin, Ellen. Great girl actually, I'm surprised it took them this long to-"

"Focus," Aaron snapped his fingers. "So, they're officially avoiding you. What's your plan now?"

Was I supposed to have one? I was trying to force myself into metamorphosis, which mostly consisted of doing everything in my power to stop feeling like the scum of the Earth given the recent events. Picking up shifts at work, finally going to therapy (had to put my gym membership on hold for that one), and trying to do more favors for people around me - those who still talked to me.

Even though I still went to bed feeling terrible, the moments throughout the day were pleasant. I didn't know Sarah, my next-door neighbor, had a python (and our landlord wouldn't be finding out either). I didn't know there was a running group that met every Friday at my nearby park, which I had just joined. I didn't know Aaron loved trying new restaurants or that I would be having lunch with him at least once every week.

As the only person who knew every detail of what had happened, even if out of my initial desperation, I had increased our texts, which eventually turned to calls and became hangouts. Sure, most friendships didn't begin with o hookup, but I was pleasantly surprised.

I still didn't fully understand what Aaron did for a living, but if he made money, he didn't show it - clothes being the exception. He had his own two-bedroom house, charmingly rustic with a vivid garden front and back. A ten-year-old black cat named Elote kept him company and yes, I would give my life for him in a heartbeat.

The cat, not Aaron. At least not yet

"What do you mean?" I lied, taking the small cup of ranch our waiter had provided and drizzling it over my Caesar salad. Today's discovery was a Victorian-style house turned coffee shop. It felt like stepping into France, or at least what I imagined indoor France felt like.

"I mean, weren't you planning on telling Tara what happened?" Aaron asked, taking a sip from his coffee. Psychopath - he liked it black.

If I could avoid it? No. But otherwise? "If she asked or got back to me, but I keep wondering if she never texted me 'cause she didn't wanna confront me."

"If it's eating you up," he started, "then it's probably worse for her. For you, it's keeping a single thing. For her, it's Pandora's box with the love of her life."

I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at myself. I didn't love how often Aaron said the quiet part out loud, but it was mostly overdue. Turns out your redemption actions don't undo the damage right away.

"But be honest," he continued, "are you more scared of Tara knowing you slept with Landon or with accepting that Landon isn't the guy you thought he was?"

"I mean...." I dragged. Aaron was not amused, He held my gaze as he drank his coffee. We both already knew the answer.

"It's just a lot, alright?" I answered, "I mean, Landon and I are so close. You don't know what it's like being joined by the hip to someone for so long and then poof - you have to question everything they said to you."

Aaron swallowed and cautiously put his cup down. "I do actually. I had a divorce finalized two years ago."

An "oh shit" slipped out of me. I quickly sat up and covered my mouth. Aaron laughed sadly.

"It's fine, it just had to happen."

"What do you mean by that? Did he cheat? Don't tell me he cheated. Or was it a she? Did you end up coming out when married?"

"Slow down, cowboy," Aaron scolded playfully, dabbing the edge of his mouth with his cloth napkin. "Nothing happened with him. We just... weren't in love anymore. It was mutual."

"Bullshit," I called out, moving around the chicken on my plate. "Mutual breakups don't exist." I brought some food into my mouth.

"Just because you've never had one doesn't mean they don't exist."

I sped up my chewing, covering my mouth as the last parts were swallowed. "Mm-mm, that's not how it works."

"Careful, I figured you wouldn't struggle with swallowing," Aaron teased. I rolled my eyes, sipping water as he went on. "I've been in bad breakups, but it wasn't like that with my ex-husband. We just realized the spark wasn't there anymore."

That sounded worse than being cheated on. At least there you knew there was a reason. Falling out of love after investing all that time? I couldn't survive it. "I'd rather them just dump me. I don't know how you dealt with that."

Aaron's shoulders rose with a deep breath. "Well, since he was my first on everything-"

"Please tell me you're joking." The mere thought of marrying your first boyfriend, the first guy who saw you naked, the first of all firsts only to end up divorced someday? This anecdote was starting to make me feel worse.

"No, and I'm glad. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better man for all those experiences. He just wasn't, you know," Aaron shrugged, "the one."

"If someone like you didn't find the one, what does that mean for the rest of us?" I grumbled, crunching on a piece of lettuce.

Aaron tilted his head. "Who said I gave up looking? I had my little post-breakup fuck-everything-you-see season, but I think that's coming to an end. I'd love to try again."

My chewing slowed as I finished. "Are you saying..."

Quick enough to bruise my ego, Aaron shook his head. "No, I'm not talking about you. You're in no place to be dating."

He was right, of course, but was I not worth a double take to fill the husband's slot? I interrupted my thoughts with some water. I was getting sick of the self-deprecation.

I chose to focus on the little things. "It'll be a bummer to have to let you go once you settle, but that just means we have to enjoy the sex from here 'til then."

Aaron laughed dryly. "I never plan on hooking up with you again, Heath."

I wondered if the low self-confidence was just me acknowledging how others thought of me. Was I too dramatic in feeling a small pang in my chest? "Rough, man. I never even got to finish."

"And I will regret that for the rest of my life," Aaron dramatized as I gave him a sour smile. He leaned across the table, placing his hand on top of mine. They were always warm. Thankfully I was pretty much done with my salad, as his warm cologne filled my nostrils. Cinnamon. "Heath, you're a very... intriguing guy."

"In... a good way?" Was there a good way?

He gave me a half smile. "In a great way. And precisely because these past weeks I've gotten to know you and like you around is why I don't want to ruin it. Does that make sense?"

It did. I had also really warmed up to Aaron. It was nice having a guy friend that could both understand me and not try to fuck me... at least not anymore. He was mature, but not condescending. Plus, his cat loved me. I couldn't afford to lose that relationship.

But I joked anyway, exaggerating a sigh. "Be honest, is it because I'm losing muscle?"

Aaron shook a "no" with a grin. "You're insufferable. Plus, I already offered for you to join me at my gym. I'm allowed a guest when I go."

I was yet to see Aaron naked, but based on his legs alone he could have killed me with his thighs if he felt like it. His suit jackets did a good job of hiding his arms, but once they were off the definition of his muscles loved distorting his dress shirts. Who knew how many elephants he was lifting every week? "I'm not in the right headspace to be intimidated by a bunch of Adonis... ses. Adoni?"

"That's a very small demographic, but if you insist," he pulled back from my hand. I couldn't help noticing how much colder it felt. I slipped it into my jacket pocket. "But back to the topic, I've had my fun. I'm ready to settle down."

"And you're not scared of it going wrong again?" I asked, unable to help myself.

Aaron remained relaxed. "Not at all, especially because last time it didn't go wrong. It just wasn't what I thought it was. That's okay."

"Couldn't be me." Okay, he didn't ask and by the looks of it didn't care about my sexual endeavors, but I couldn't help but let him know anyway. Maybe that was why he hung out with me; I was his ghost of Christmas past, his reminder of how much better off he was now that he was leaving meaningless sex and instability behind, even if it was brief for him.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you were my last casual hook-up," Aaron added, his lips turning upright. "If I'd known we'd end up here, I would've bought you that beer sooner."

Aw. "You're so fucking lame," I retorted with my own smile. He chuckled and excused himself to go to the bathroom. I grabbed his napkin from a clean corner and hid it underneath a plate.

Whatever Aaron's reason for keeping me around, I wouldn't overthink it anymore. God knew I needed to hold onto the few friends I had left.

-

It only took a very brief and totally not at all strenuous month for me to be the one to cave. At my therapist's suggestion, I sent a text to Tara, asking her if we could grab some dinner, or a drink, or anything if it meant finally coming clean. I had woken up that Sunday with the determination to finally find closure. Although the message was delivered, there was still no answer.

My therapist had brought up patience as being crucial in asking for forgiveness, but I was very anxious as Sunday came to an end without as much as a read receipt.

By Monday there was still no answer. I went on as usual.

By Tuesday there was still no answer. I met up for a quickie with a guy I met on Tinder. Too much teeth.

By Wednesday there was still no answer. I had to call Claudia and Jolene an Uber halfway through the class. Guess they pregamed.

By Thursday there was still no answer. I had the day off and went to Aaron's. His mom made a surprise visit and promised to teach me how to make flour tortillas.

By Friday there was still no answer. I went to watch a local band and went home with the lead singer - then left immediately when I saw the photos she had hanging on her wall with her boyfriend. What can I say? Therapy works.

By Saturday I had a read receipt. To celebrate I sent a message to catch up with Fawn and finally submit my portfolio for consideration. I spent the entire day painting - it had been a while since I had for myself.

By Sunday I had a text waiting for me as I gathered my stuff from Aaron's gym locker. He stood behind me, wiping off sweat with the bottom of his shirt, his abs raising and sinking as he caught his breath. "You good?"

I read over the message, a drop of my sweat splashing on the screen. "Yeah. It's Tara. She wants to meet up tonight to talk."

"Are you gonna go?"

I wiped my phone off on my shirt, looking over my shoulder into Aaron's concerned eyes. "I can't afford not to."

-

"Thanks, Helen," I said to our server as Tara and I sat at a secluded booth at Alessandro's. I had accidentally become a regular over the weeks. Helen smiled politely and placed the drinks before us. A beer for me, a lemonade for Tara.

We had politely greeted each other but abstained from a quick peck or hug. By how nervous she looked, she likely wasn't capable of even faking etiquette right now.

"So...." I started, my heart beating at a million miles per hour. I was here to tell her everything - the hotel confession, the make-out at the library, the sex, the drunken conversation.

But she beat me to it. "I know, Heath. Everything. He told me everything."

I opened my mouth, feeling the automatic need to make up some excuse or pretend to be in the dark. Aaron's voice rang in my head before I could. I had to accept that that guy wasn't me anymore. "I... I'm so sorry, Tara."

Tara's gaze went down to her drink, taking a moment to herself. "I'm not saying what you did is okay. It wasn't, even thinking what you did. At the end of the day, you were okay with him doing that to me."

I felt a lump in my throat but spoke through it. "I know, I'm sorry-"

"I'm not done," Tara raised her hand, motioning for me to stop talking. She took a drink before continuing. "I didn't even want to believe him, I didn't think I could. The worst part was that he continued to deny what you told me until I found a bottle of lube in his dresser."

Guess I wasn't getting that KY back.

"And as I'm sure he told you, we've slept together before. We've never used that. So the night you texted... I asked if he was cheating, and it all came out."

I couldn't do anything but mouth an apology. She raised her eyes again, locking on mine.

"If he had told me he was also into men, that'd be one thing. I could have lived perfectly fine with that fact. I could have even lived with him being gay. Knowing how we were raised... I couldn't blame him for wanting to hide that."

I held my breath as her eyes burnt into my skull.

"But knowing he chose to cheat, to lie to my face about being in love with you and instead choosing to fabricate all these lies to push me - us - away from the truth for the sake of wanting to protect our engagement... only to take you to bed anyway."

I didn't know which part I wanted to dissect the most: him saying he was in love with me, him revealing he was bisexual, or finally knowing why he lied about Tara and I. Scratch that - if I could, I wouldn't know any of it at all.

With mixed feelings, I still felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders, almost like I could breathe again. The worst part was over, now came the consequences. A month had prepared me for this.

Unfortunately, weekly therapy sessions didn't prevent my chest from hurting as I watched tears stream down Tara's cheeks, leaving black trails on her otherwise flawless skin.

"I've always been a very forgiving person, Heath. I've always tried to seek compassion despite others hurting me. I'm wondering if you regret anything you did."

"I do," I answered instantly. "Tara I was an awful, awful piece of shit. I thought you were a horrible person and I used that as my justification, but I never even bothered to verify that. I'm not trying to excuse it, I just hope it explains why I went ahead anyway."

"Surprisingly, it does." It surprised me indeed. "I mean, why wouldn't you trust your best friend of years? Why wouldn't I trust my fiance? Oh..."

Her tears turned into streams. I started to get up, instead choosing to stay in my seat. I wasn't sure if hugging her was the best course of action. Might be hard to find comfort in the man who helped in wrecking your marriage.

"I will always regret doing that to you, no excuse. You deserved better then, you deserve better now. I contributed to this and I am so, so sorry Tara. I should've told you when I last saw you - hell, I should've told you when he first told me."

"But you didn't remember?" Tara gasped for air, attempting to prevent herself from breaking into sobs. She took out some tissues from her purse and dabbed her nose. "Heath, I don't harbor hate for you. You're not someone I would want around me, but I couldn't move on without talking about this. Without confronting you. So I ask one final question.... are you in love with him?"

The weight of the question hung in the silence. I knew I had enjoyed being with him. I knew I loved him amicably ever since we became close, but unlike my recent behavior I hadn't sought out committed people, much less my best friend.

"I..." I had no clue. I figured if it was a yes, I would've said it. If it was a conclusive no, I would've too. "I can just tell you this. I'm trying to change. I want to be a better person. Landon doesn't fit my goals. I could never trust him again after this."

"That makes two of us," Tara nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, but delivered her thoughts anyway. "Just a final update, I guess. I filed for divorce this morning. He's being cooperative. He's even moving out and leaving the apartment to me."

"It's the least he can do," I replied, "and the least I can do is cover these drinks. Again, I'll never stop regretting what I did, Tara. You deserve so much better than this. Than him."

"I know, Heath. I have no doubt about that," she said, slinging her purse onto her shoulder. "I'll leave you with the bill then. I wish things had gone differently. Most of all, I do hope you become a better man."

I nodded in agreement. That was the goal after all. I motioned for Helen to come over as Tara left the bar. With my tab paid, I emerged into the chilly night.

I looked at the hour. My therapist wasn't available to text, Aaron was out on a date, and any acquaintance on my contacts list would block me the second I suggested going out at this hour on a Sunday.

-

The benefit of Alessandro's was its proximity to the gay bars downtown. I didn't want to be home right now, so the nearest club it was.

I hadn't visited them long enough to have forgotten the names, or new ones, or any other unnoticed additions. All I knew was that the lights were way brighter, the music was way louder, and maybe the issue was me getting older.

I walked into the least bass-thumping building. The streets weren't crowded considering Monday was a few hours away, but the building in question didn't let the limited customers discourage them from holding a drag show. It beat looking pathetic in a corner while everyone danced to poorly done song transitions. I grabbed a scotch and soda at the bar and found myself a table in the back, lending all my intention to the ongoing show.

When was the last time I had gone to a drag show? Scratch that - when did drag queens start looking so realistic? The queen on stage wore a voluminous wig that didn't budge despite her running around the stage lipsynching to Gaga. I don't know how much she spent to make herself look so natural. I toasted privately in her honor.

I seemed to have caught the ending of the show, the MC eventually announcing their closer. He added a red hue to the stage, the couple of audience members cheering at the slight change. Of course, I cheered too - I am nothing but a follower.

"Introducing the sizzling... the marvelous... the big and pretty from Salt Lake City...Dianna Fagron!"

We all exploded into cheers as Dianna stepped onto the stage, the music starting with her presence. She took center stage, a plus-size interpretation of Lorelei Lee's iconic pink dress. Her wig mimicked Marilyn's hair flawlessly, her makeup - while loud - was sharp, and by the way her ass moved when she walked, I wondered if just her hips were padded.

She mouthed along to the song, dramatically moving her arms and throwing her head back to what Shazam claimed was "California" by Chappell Roan. I added it to my library and grabbed five bucks in case she came around.

Dianna stepped carefully onto the floor, serenading (does it still count as serenading?) patrons as the MC uncovered a spotlight and followed her pacing. She took bills and stuffed them into her dress, stopping every other moment for faux theatrical belting.

When she noticed the sole person sitting in the back, she pointed at me and carefully walked up to my table. The spotlight illuminated me, throwing off my sight. It adjusted by the time Dianna was beside me.

It seemed like the song was coming to an end. She maintained eye contact, even as I handed her the money. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until she ran the bill down my face, one of her hands resting lightly on my knee.