CHAPTER ELEVEN Chad

Eighteen Months Ago

When the trial for the assailants who'd nearly killed Clint and Lucas had ended, where each was awarded five million dollars, my life with Clint began. We had fallen for one another during his and Lucas's recoveries. Spending long days together as I assisted Clint with his physical therapy had bonded us. I soon realized I loved him and wanted to be with him.

I knew that Clint's gay experience was limited to one sexual contact with Lucas, so being understanding regarding him living as a gay man was front and center for me. I was aware there could be issues, but figured our love would overcome any trials we'd surely encounter.

When Lucas re-opened the gas station as its new owner, I joined him briefly to assist with the grand opening. He and I had become like brothers. We shared a bond that neither quite understood, but we became close when he and Clint were hospitalized. I think he began to see me as someone other than competition for Perry.

However, it wasn't long before Clint and I decided to both attend college at The University of South Carolina, where I'd been enrolled before the excitement of the past two years began. We moved to Columbia and lived in a cute apartment near campus. In the beginning, our love grew as we settled into life as a couple.

We both had full-time classes. Him getting his prerequisites for an architecture degree, and me finishing my bachelor's in business. At first, things were great. We worked out together at the campus gym, cooked and studied together, and had tons of fulfilling sex, but as time went on, Clint began to crawl into a shell.

There was no other way to explain his behavior. I thought perhaps he was dealing with aftershock from his experience of being shot and nearly dying. I tried to get him to tell me what the change was about and how I could help. The more I asked, the more he resisted. The quiet started to hurt our communication.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said.

"But I want to help, baby," I pleaded.

That was how our usual conversations regarding the subject went. Then, because Clint was a quiet man by nature, he'd get quieter and more distant, shutting me out completely after two months of arguing about our problems.

The trouble for me was that I didn't know what exactly the problem was. I prided myself on being understanding and finding enough love to love us through anything, but when you don't have all the information, our arguments were like pushing strings up a hill for me. I was confused by his sudden lack of interest in us.

After a couple more months of no intimacy and me practically frantic, trying to decipher his actions, I began to notice that our closeness, the natural intimacy that we'd shared in the privacy of our apartment, was fading as well.

Clint was not a demonstrative man in public. I understood that about him and gave him a break even though in the beginning we did go to gay bars where he seemed to enjoy himself, but the instant we exited the doors of the bar, he'd move away like we were two college dudes just hanging out.

"Why do you do that?" I'd asked as we walked to his truck.

"There are people around," he admonished.

"But this is a college town, Clint. We are pretty much safe around here. Besides, who's going to mess with you?"

"I don't like how it looks."

"You don't like howwe look, is what I'm hearing," I replied.

"I don't wanna be labeled as gay, Chad. You've always been like that, but I haven't, so back off about it."

"But weare gay," I stated. "We are a couple, Clint."

As usual, he was done discussing the issue. That night was followed by too many other similar situations. As time went by, we stopped going out publicly, let alone to a gay bar where we had been able to hold hands, kiss, and generally act like a couple. He wanted to stay home, began working out alone, and basically sidelined me as his partner.

I spoke with friends and my parents, read information on coming out, and did everything I could to make the adjustment easier for him. He wouldn't accept that he was in any way responsible for what was happening to our relationship.

I had long-held beliefs that Clint was my destiny. I believe in things like the universe speaking to me and that is important to my psyche. Clint had needed me before. I wanted to be there for him because I sensed a lost soul desperate for love. I would and could be that for him. That was my job.

However, when the affection was gone at home, as well as in public, I felt like I was in a battle all my own. How do you fight a war when the adversary isn't present any longer?

I don't give up on love. Love is everything to me. All love. It doesn't matter the type. I dig in and I fight for love. I'm not good at a ton of things, but I feel good about my ability to love.

When the other half of your love calls it quits, you suddenly find yourself in uncharted territory. I'd never tried to love my way to a fix when the other person had checked out. My first partner, David, had died. Clint was still here, in our home, alive, but dead to my efforts.

But I still didn't give up. At least not until he said we were over. In a note.