52. Jeremy

“No one is going to come to this,” Davis muttered, awkwardly adjusting his tie. Jeremy thought that he would be more comfortable wearing literally anything, including a shirt made of cactus needles.

Scratch that. He’d probably like that. Would say something about how it’s a smart way of honoring the local flora and fauna.

And just like how, once, Jeremy googled “Colorado Rockies” in order to learn a bit about Davis’s favorite sport, he found himself opening up an app he had downloaded that was supposed to be a guide to local plants in the state.

“Why are you looking up native cacti in southeastern Colorado?” Davis asked, peeking over to look at Jeremy’s phone.

“No reason,” he replied, embarrassed. Jeremy had dressed a bit more conservatively than he was used to, out here. He knew Davis still wasn’t ready to let his coworkers know about their relationship. He didn’t anticipate any outward, active homophobia from people who would come to a visitor center opening on a Tuesday evening in the middle of nowhere. But he didn’t want to make Davis uncomfortable. So Jeremy had forgone one of his standard exhibit-opening suits— a gorgeous, dark green velvet with a stunning paisley shirt— and settled for the straightest outfit he owned, a black suit paired with a white shirt. He did wear a violet pocket square because, well, he needed to make sure that someone knew he was queer at some point. Even if it was just himself.

Davis had asked Jeremy if he would be interested in attending the exhibit opening, and while, of course, Jeremy said yes, he had suppressed the desire to ask if he was attending the opening as the exhibit designer, Davis’s boyfriend, or both. Those worries had taken more of a back seat, however, when Jeremy showed up to the visitor center and saw how nervous Davis was.

Davis, who had so much to be proud of in this exhibition. This should be an entire night to celebrate his brilliance.

“Um, hi,” Davis said, clearing his throat and stepping up to the small podium. “My name is Davis and, uh, this is the exhibit that we’re opening.” He winced, and Jeremy had this mad desire to leap up on stage and wrestle the mic away. But he also knew from conversations with his friends that a partner wasn’t supposed to fix something for the other one. They were supposed to work on it together and find a mutually agreed upon solution. Or something like that. Jeremy had only been half listening when Emmy and Phoebe had been discussing their approach to conflict and consent in their relationships. He made a mental note to participate in the relationship chat next time, even if Davis was only his boyfriend in Vanberg and in his cabin.

Davis’s eyes scanned the crowd and found his own. Jeremy gave a slow blink, like a cat, and a small, secret smile that was just for the two of them. He wished he had the ability to telecommunicate and send Davis a tiny whisper in his ear. I love you. You’re amazing. I’m proud of you.

Davis smiled back and took a deep breath and seemed to regain his confidence from somewhere. “My apologies. I spend more time chatting with the trees and elk than I do with humans some weeks.” A polite wave of laughter rolled through the crowd. “Anyway, I’m here to say a few words of thanks before I pass it over to the tribal reps who have generously offered to provide a blessing over the exhibit. First, I’d like to send our appreciation to the National Science Foundation and National Endowment for the Arts…” Jeremy zoned out as Davis worked his way through the list of government offices that had provided funding, but he paid attention enough to realize that Davis had maneuvered a variety of interdepartmental funding at the federal and state level to make this exhibit a possibility. “And I’d like to finally thank Jeremy Rinci, of Rinci Consulting, for the design and interpretation of the exhibit. If we would have stuck with my sketches, well, let’s just say no one would want to be at this exhibition except my coworkers, and only if they were getting paid.” Another round of polite laughter. “Okay, well, I’m sweating, so I’m done talking, and I’m passing it off to my supervisor and an enrolled member of the ancestral stewards of this land we are on.”

Davis practically ran off stage, and Jeremy had to clench his fists to keep himself from wrapping his arms around him. Maybe it wasn’t the type of homophobia that he had been warned about by elder gay men, but this was a special type of torture. He was standing next to the man he loved, in front of a project that was the culmination of both of their professional expertise, a series of panels and artifacts and specimens that had brought them together, and he couldn’t even reach out to congratulate him. Couldn’t kiss him in front of their exhibit and claim him as his.

Was this how Davis felt daily? How was he able to manage it?

A terrifying thought as Davis gulped from a can of seltzer next to him— what if he didn’t love Jeremy the way that Jeremy loved him? Was that why he didn’t talk about him? Jeremy felt like he had to actively work not to bring up Davis in every conversation, even ones that had nothing to do with him.

“Congratulations, gentleman,” Eric said after his speech and the blessing were finished, walking over to Jeremy and Davis, shaking Jeremy out of his thoughts. “When Davis first proposed this opening, I couldn’t believe that anyone would actually come to it.”

“I keep telling you, people want to connect with nature,” Davis said quietly, but Jeremy knew that he was proud, saw the smile that spread across his face that was usually only reserved for the way Jeremy was able to tease him in bed. It was that smile that said I told you so, and he loved it.

Loved him. Eric and Davis chatted for a bit, mostly about the exhibition, before Eric excused himself to go connect with some visitors. Davis went to follow, to answer a question one had about lichen or moss or something, but Jeremy reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Wait, Davis,” he said, pulling the shorter man into a corner and whispering. “Nathaniel.”He may have added his full first name just to watch the way he shivered with delight. “You’ve been nervous about this entire opening. And you’re telling me that you are the one who planned it all?”

Davis blushed a brilliant crimson that would put even Phoebe’s redheaded sister-in-law to shame. “I’ve been trying this thing where I take chances on things that scare me.” He gave Jeremy another secret, private smile, and Jeremy swore he could feel that smile pressed against his own lips.

He hoped to god that he was something Davis felt comfortable taking a chance on, and he hoped even more that it didn’t scare him.

Davis crossed the room to where Eric was standing with Alex and Yesenia. Alex leaned down, and Jeremy saw his lips form the phrase so you’re dating now? Davis gave another short nod. A blink-and-you’d-miss-it nod.

Jeremy, overcome and needing a distraction, meandered over to the appetizers and picked at a piece of cheese, then picked up a small plastic glass of seltzer, recalling a similar museum party where he had teased Emmy about developing feelings for her coworker. How the shoe was on the other foot now, because here he was, staring like a lovesick idiot while Davis talked with a visitor, pointed out the different leaf shapes that made up the border to one of the panels.

Taking a sip of the seltzer and enjoying the way the bubbles tickled his nose, Jeremy thought back on his previous relationships. He supposed that he had thought he had been in love before, maybe with his first boyfriend in high school— a foolish, silly, superficial love that felt like it was more important than oxygen— and perhaps with his partner in grad school. He had told both of them that he loved them, and he was sure that he did, in a way.

But no one had warned him that love like the love he felt for Davis could be painful. He imagined that it was something he would have been able to fly back to New York to figure out with his parents over a bottle of red wine at their favorite restaurant in the Village.

If only.

He guessed he was being a bit morose and existential, but what good was it being in love if you couldn’t be a little dramatic about it?

Perhaps it was a small miracle his parents had passed so quickly in succession. Because when Jeremy imagined losing Davis, his heart seized up and his limbs went a tiny bit numb. It felt unnatural. Davis, in some strange way, had woven himself into the fibers of his heart. Davis would probably have some beautiful metaphor about nature and co-evolution to share, but Jeremy just thought of a classics professor who had taught about Achilles and Patroclus, and how Patroclus had wished his ashes to be mixed with Achilles’ upon his death. Or how Emily Dickinson had written that she “tore open the letter and licked the envelope to get a taste of you.”

Even historically, he had always felt a connection to the most dramatic of queers, had dressed up as Oscar Wilde for Halloween for years until he replaced the costume with his now-standard Andy Warhol costume.

Was it also telling, Jeremy wondered, tossing his seltzer in the recycling, that he was most drawn to the stories of queer love that ended in tragedy or was kept a secret?

Achilles was killed in battle.

Emily Dickinson died alone and unknown, with the identity of the love letters’ recipient a mystery.

Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sodomy, betrayed by a lover.

Andy Warhol was shot.

Jeremy sighed, feeling more morose than he should be at an exhibition opening he designed, until he heard a chorus of familiar voices.