The Dinner Inquisition

THE DINNER INQUISITION

There were dozens of boxes scattered about Legends. The convention had taken over my store. Between swag, lanyards, programs, and stickers, I couldn't keep up. If somebody walked in right now, it looked more like a post office than a comic book store. Menial tasks were a good distraction, especially after the bomb drop yesterday. Or was that a bomb shell drop? Bomb shell, bomb drop?

"I'm driving myself crazy."

I picked up the closest box, setting it on the counter. Tearing it open, I was delighted to see the lanyards for the convention. I always got excited seeing Legends Comic Store on swag. It didn't compare to the awesome at the bottom of the box.

"Amanda!" I shouted. "Come down here!"

"I'm actually working!"

I raised an eyebrow and looked toward the loft. She had been working harder than usual on her comic. I think a looming deadline prompted her to pick up the pace. I should leave her alone… but I wouldn't. Harassing one another while busy was kind of our thing .

I grabbed the badges from the bottom of the box and dashed to the back of the store. I took the stairs two at a time before realizing big boys should take them one by one like normal people. By the time I reached the top of the loft, I huffed and puffed.

"Please don't die," Amanda said.

She sat at her desk, pen in hand. This had become her home away from home. The platform suspended above the comic store looked as if a bomb had gone off. I understood why she wanted this chaos somewhere other than her apartment.

"You're working?"

Amanda let out a long sigh before setting her pen down. "You know, I do illustrate once in a while."

"Do you want me to leave?—"

"Oh God, no. I've been working for a whole thirty minutes."

Once I caught my breath, I sauntered over to her desk. She had been working on a comic about a small-town kid coming out of the closet and getting superpowers. I couldn't wait until she finished and we could feature it in the store. There would be a big party, and we'd invite every person from Spectrum to attend.

"What has you excited enough to run?"

I dropped a stack of badges on the corner of her desk. Her eyes lit up. She tore the rubber band off and held one up for closer inspection. She glanced from the badge to me and then back. It started as a low purr and twisted into a squeal as her feet thumped against the floorboards.

"I can't believe it!"

When I asked her to design the graphics for Firefly Con, I had no idea what she might come up with. I grabbed the next badge in the pile. In front of the text, she had turned me into a superhero, cape and all. Under one arm, I had a stack of comics and, in my hand, a bag with the Legends' logo.

"I had my doubts."

"Doubts?" She shot me a dirty look. "If I remember, you whined about it."

"Whine is such a strong word. I voiced a strong opinion."

"I don't want to be the face of the convention." Her impersonation of me bordered on frightening. "It's going to look dorky. It's?—"

"Okay, I get it. I whined."

I walked around the drawing table she put in the middle of the room. She had indeed been busy. I had listened to the story behind her comic a thousand times, but seeing it drawn out bordered on surreal. In the first panel, a boy leaned in for an abrupt kiss with his best friend. Shocked, she had pulled back, leaving him in tears.

"It's amazing," I said.

"It's our first kiss."

I didn't have powers like the character in her comic, but it still touched close to home. At an early age, I knew I was different from the other kids. I thought if I did things like everybody else, it'd go away. Amanda didn't include the panel where she slapped me, shouting, "Consent matters!"

Seeing the boy with his knees drawn to his chest, tears flowing down his cheeks, it was like looking at a memory. She set the page aside and showed me the next one. Amanda hadn't inked it, but it made my heart sing.

"Did I ever thank you?"

"You didn't need to," she said. She held out an arm, beckoning me to stand next to her. Wrapping her arm around my waist, she leaned her head on my stomach. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I was going to say the same thing."

"You were the first gay person I met… or at least the first to come out. I'm not saying you led the charge, but you made a path for the rest of us."

"I had help."

"Real-talk time." Amanda never pulled her punches. I'm not sure how she could get any more real. "You've never been the loud and proud kind of guy. You've always had a soft stand-your-ground approach. I don't think you see how big a change you've made."

"I haven't changed."

"Not you." She leaned back, looking me in the eye. "Firefly. There's a Gay-Straight Alliance in the high school because you helped push for it. Now you're helping keep it alive. The town might not be progressive, but their attitudes changed because they love you. I wish you saw yourself the way we do."

She held up the badge, spinning it between her fingers. I watched as the image of me in a superhero costume came and went.

"Be the face of Firefly Comic Con, Jason. You're the hero the town needs."

Real talk apparently meant an arrow to the chest. Amanda had a way of cutting through the red tape and getting to the heart of the matter. I couldn't always see the changes in our little town. Sometimes, it required a friend to point it out.

"Since you're in real-talk mode, can I ask you a question?"

I walked over to the loveseat and plopped myself into a flattened cushion. It was by far the most uncomfortable couch I had ever sat on. It stayed in the loft because we didn't want to throw it into the store below to drag it out. No amount of throw pillows could stop a spring from poking me in the ass.

"Does it have to do with a mysterious blonde woman?"

"Has the rumor mill already started?"

Amanda spun about in her chair. "No, and that's what has me interested. Somebody with legs like that and the blue hairs aren't talking trash? Consider me curious."

"It's Simon's ex-wife."

Amanda's eyes widened. "Well, that makes things interesting."

"I brought Lucas home from school, and she was waiting for him. I thought she was off somewhere saving the world."

"Gorgeous and a do-gooder. I'm seeing the appeal."

"Calm your tits, missy." Amanda didn't need to say anything. I'm sure she was already imagining her naked. If she drooled, I'd slap her for good measure. "I don't know how to handle the situation."

"Did you talk to Simon?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"Then you're making an issue where there isn't one."

"But—"

"It's in your head."

"What if?—"

"Stop it."

I frowned. Amanda wasn't providing the support I expected. Then again, she had a way of saying what I needed to hear. Was I making this a bigger problem than it really was? Maybe my discomfort with a new situation needed more time to process.

"Simon didn't seem to mind you dancing with Jon."

"That's different."

"Is it, though? Jon isn't nearly as gorgeous, but it's kind of the same thing."

"Closest thing we have to shared custody is a house plant we bought."

"I'm sure you're both wonderful fathers to your plastic cactus. She's the kid's mom. Sounds like she's going to be in the picture one way or another. Do you think you can deal with that? "

She asked an honest question. I mulled it over. There was no precedent for the situation. A couple of my exes were friends with the people they previously dated, but most kept them at arm's length. There was nothing that bound them together, especially not a kid.

"I get it, it's different." She turned back to her table and picked up the pen. "It sounds like an adventure to me."

An adventure. The positive spin on new experiences. Maybe Amanda had a point. Dating a man with a kid had turned into an adventure in my head. How different could it be dating a man with a child with an ex-wife still in the picture?

"Now go away," Amanda said. "One of us is trying to work."

She must be in the zone if she was demanding I leave. As much as I wanted to lament on the subject, I wanted her to finish the comic. Right now, I needed that happy ending.

"Fine," I said, clawing my way off the couch of doom. "I'm off to be the face of a Comic Con."

I eyed the groceries. I had stopped by the store to pick up Mom's order, and something looked amiss. Had Dorothy given me the wrong bag? I couldn't remember a time when Mom used thyme in her cooking. Mom knew how to make a belly happy, but I wouldn't call any of her cooking fancy.

Opening the door, I continued inspecting the bag. " Mom, I think Dorothy mixed up your order. This doesn't?—"

The burly arms reached for the bag, snatching it away before I could process. It wasn't uncommon for Amanda or Jon to show up for dinner. At times, I thought they might be my mother's favorite children. By the time I looked up, I was gawking at the back of Simon's head.

"What's going on?"

Simon set the groceries down on the kitchen counter and started rummaging. Nothing about this made sense. Of all the people who could have set foot in Mom's house, I never… "Oh, God. Mom." She had been alone with Simon for who knew how long. What damage had unfolded while the two of them waited for me?

I went into the living room and saw them, every child's worst nightmare. The leather-bound books. Volume one, two, and three? Inside was a cornucopia of photographs that no adult man wanted to be seen by the light of day. From photos of Dad bathing me in the kitchen sink to my phase when I wanted to be in a boy band, complete with torn midriff shirts. There was nothing sacred when Mom pulled those off the shelf.

For a split second, I debated burning down the house and running. A judge would understand. I shuffled my way into the dining room to see four plates set on the table. He had brought a bottle of wine. Had Mom tracked him down and invited him to dinner, or had it been a chance encounter ?

I knew the answer before I asked the question. "I'm going to kill her."

"Are you going to stand there or be my sous chef?"

I looked up to see Simon wearing Mom's apron. The burly bear with the half-naked man. It paled in comparison to the man who wore it. I shook my head. No imagining him naked while in my childhood home. The last thing I needed was little Jason tenting the front of my jeans.

I walked into the kitchen to Simon, flipping steaks and sprinkling them with salt. Mom sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee. She hugged the mug with both hands, trying to hide. It was the look of pure guilt. She knew she had meddled.

"I need you to get me three cloves of garlic."

Simon had three pans on the burners. He gave each one a quick shake before tossing in the thyme. "Before the butter burns." Oh, he wasn't kidding. This wasn't cute romantic cooking as a means of foreplay. I suddenly felt like I had been given a test I didn't study for.

"Should I ask the obvious question?"

"How to peel garlic?"

I gave Simon a dirty look. "Where did my mom find you?"

"Find me?"

"Don't play coy, Mr. Peterson." I grabbed the garlic, peeling three cloves before smashing it with the flat of the blade. For a moment, I felt like a chef. They didn't need to know I had been watching cooking shows since our date. " My mom spent her childhood hunting. Finding a bear wandering Firefly isn't any different."

The sizzle of meat drowned out Simon's laugh. I brought over the chopping board. He threw the garlic into the butter sauce in each pan. This was already more luxurious than any meal we had growing up. Then, to see a pot filled with mashed potatoes, he had outdone himself.

"I stopped by the Bistro. We got to talking, and I invited him over for dinner."

"To make him cook?"

"That was his idea. There hasn't been a man cooking in this kitchen in years."

"You mean Gerald hasn't made you dinner?" Ha. If we were going to compare men, mine won this competition.

"Mrs. Cowan has herself a gentleman? Do tell."

No, Simon. No! Do not encourage my mother. The last thing I needed was an image of her swapping spit with another man. Blocking her view, Simon gave my ass a light pat.

"Get to those mushrooms."

"Gerald wouldn't know his way around the kitchen if I drew him a map." Ha, he'd have to step up his game to compete with Dad. "Whisky, though, he knows how to pick them."

"You're drinking whisky?" Who was this woman? "You never drink."

"That's a woman after my own heart," Simon said.

I set the cutting board down on the counter and dwelled on the statement. My mom picking up a glass of whisky was one thing. I'd deal with that conundrum later. Did Lucy have an affinity for whisky? Would she spill embarrassing stories about Simon as she swirled the amber liquid around a tumbler? I tried pushing the image from my mind, but I couldn't get her out of my mind.

"You still need to meet him, Jason."

Nope. I had come up with every excuse to avoid being the third wheel on their date. I wanted to be happy for my mom and her willingness to embark on the next stage of her life. Not yet. I wasn't ready for it. I'd be happy for her from a distance.

"He's a nice man. Very dapper."

I had forgotten they had eaten at the Bistro. "He offered to bring me some river trout." Simon didn't know it, but he played for the wrong team. Time to change the subject, even if it meant embarrassing myself.

"Mom, what are the photo albums doing out?"

Simon chuckled without saying a word. I'd be doing a thorough investigation when we were alone. I needed to know how much damage Mom had done and how much therapy I'd need.

"If you were on time, I wouldn't have had time to show him photos of you growing up."

"I would have been on time if you hadn't…" I spun about, knife pointing out. "Did you send me to the market to stall me?" I sounded paranoid. I knew it. Momma Cowan had a devious streak. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged before returning to her coffee. There was a conspiracy afoot .

"I will never unsee that mullet." Simon flipped the meat in all three pans. "It borders on legendary."

"You didn't get to see the denim jacket he made us buy him."

My life was over. I'd be changing my name and leaving at first light. I'd need cosmetic surgery and a new identity. There'd be no looking back as I started my new life as a receptionist in a marketing firm in Ohio.

"I don't like this dynamic. You two are never to be left alone again."

"What would Mr. Cuddles say about that?"

My eyes went wide as Simon basted his meat. Not only had she shown him the photos, but she must have given him the abridged version of my childhood. It was one thing to show photos, but bringing my imaginary friend into it? Was it possible to give Mom up for adoption? Elderly adoption was a thing, right?

"Mrs. Cowan, if you want to grab a seat and open the wine, we're just about ready."

The barrage of embarrassing stories didn't dismiss the lengthy conversation I wanted to have with Simon. It had been days since I spotted Lucy at his house, and I had heard nothing about her from the rumor mill. Either she hadn't left the house, or people were keeping secrets. My imagination ran wild with both possibilities.

"Boogiebear, can you grab the plates in the oven?"

I grimaced at him using my mom's pet name for me. He stepped out of the way as he opened the oven. Never in the history of my family had we warmed plates before a meal. As I approached, he glanced at the dining room and quickly gave me a kiss.

I froze.

When he pulled back, he had that devilish grin stapled across his face. I'll admit, I didn't want it to end. For all the insecurities bubbling to the surface, a single peck on the lips, and they nearly vanished. If I was sure my mom wouldn't walk in, I'd have tried for another. I think being caught was the least of our worries. If she saw that, she wouldn't waste time asking questions about how we met, where this was going, and how soon she could expect a grandchild.

"Sorry for the surprise," he whispered. "I didn't mean to?—"

Be damned, let Mom ask questions.

I grabbed the apron, pulling him close. My other hand held the back of his neck as I kissed him. A peck had stopped being enough. Like a drug, I needed more. More of his scent. More of his skin. More of him. When he tried pulling away, I held him in place, pressing my forehead against his. I might have my worries, but in his presence, they were dim shadows.

"I'm glad you're here." The shock of the situation had worn off. The more I thought about it, I couldn't remember the last time I brought a guy home to meet my parents. "I hope you're prepared for the interrogation portion of our evening."

He raised an eyebrow. As I pulled back, I couldn't help but laugh. Simon must not have much experience in dating, or at least not being introduced to the folks. If he expected light dinner conversation and discussing hobbies, he was about to have his world rocked.

"Simon," Mom called from the dining room. "Do you consider yourself a bear or a polar bear?"

The smile on his face vanished. I laughed as I pulled the plates from the oven. I couldn't wipe the grin off my face as I walked into the dining room. The appetizer for the evening might have been embarrassing me, but the main course would include Simon gulping down wine as he tried dodging her rapid-fire questions.

Mom pulled out her chair and took a seat at the table. "Does that make you the big spoon?"

The innocent interrogation had begun.

Mom touched her pinky to her thumb. Simon pressed the muscle under her thumb. She switched to her pointer finger and thumb. This time, when he pressed, the spot had gotten squishier.

"That's how you can tell well done versus medium rare."

Mom had spent the entire dinner asking Simon every question that crossed her mind. I learned about his parents growing up in Boston and even his investment portfolio. He couldn't answer fast enough between bites of food. I'm sure she had a million more, but they'd have to wait for the next meal .

Simon might not have noticed, but Mom refrained from asking any question involving the two of us. Elbowing her way into my love life could have been her superpower. I had to give her credit. She knew how to read a man. I'm sure the questions burned on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare out a man.

Moms. The real allies.

"We'll need to do this again." She gave Simon a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Regardless of what happened between us, he'd always have a place at her table. She gave me a tight squeeze, kissing me on the cheek. "I like this one." She didn't bother whispering.

Simon's face turned red. With a quick pat on the cheek, she turned around and headed toward the kitchen. "You two can see yourselves out." She wasn't kicking us out. Mom had subtly given us an excuse to be alone.

I opened the door to the porch and bowed. Simon walked out, and I followed. He let out a low whistle. "Your mom could work for the FBI. I feel like I just ran the gauntlet."

"And that's what she does for the ones she likes."

He reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. The sun had set, and the early autumn chill had settled in for the night. I hadn't expected to see him tonight, but it didn't make it any less enjoyable. Mom's non-stop questions gave me a chance to learn more about Simon's past. More than that, the way he laughed at her absurdity and then rebounded. It spoke volumes about him as a person .

"Can we talk?" No matter how innocent I tried to make it, those three words always elicited a sense of fear.

"It's probably a good idea."

I gestured to the swing on the end of the porch. Even under the dim light from the living room, I could see the well-worn spots where Mom and Dad had spent their twilight years. When I plopped down, the chains gave a slight jingle.

Simon scuffed his feet along the porch as he followed. "Is there room for two?"

"What do you think, Mr. Cuddles?" I stared at the blank space next to me. We needed to have a serious talk, but I didn't want it to be painful. Humor served as my defense mechanism. "He says you can have his seat."

My imaginary friend had once been a towering stuffed teddy bear. All the signs had been there. I think I had instinctively been gay before I understood the word. I wondered how Mr. Cuddles felt about being replaced by another tall, handsome bear.

We needed to talk. The butterflies in my stomach made it clear I wasn't comfortable with it. I had grown smitten with this handsome man. He had his complications, as all people did, but the arrival of his ex-wife made things weird.

"Lucas told me you walked him home the other day."

"I was giving a talk at the school. We had a very serious conversation on the way home about Eric being mean."

"He said! Somehow, I got roped into a sleepover with Josh now?"

I chuckled. "Make sure you hide your glue. "

"I heard that too. You two had a lengthy conversation for three blocks."

"What can I say? We had a lot to cover."

The conversation tapered off. With a slight push, the swing moved back and forth. The chains groaned as we sat in silence. If not for the topic we both danced around, it would have been the perfect way to spend the evening. Having seen Mom and Dad do it for years, I wanted what they had. Would she spend evenings on the swing with Gerald now? As much as I balked at the idea of Mom dating, I hoped she found somebody worthy of taking up Dad's seat.

"I saw her." The words came out in a whisper.

He rested a hand on my leg. I appreciated the gesture. "I'm sorry. That must have been… weird."

"So weird," I said.

His hand ran back and forth across my thigh. The casualness of his touch quieted my insecurities, but I still had questions that needed answering.

"This is a new one for me," I admitted. "I've dated plenty of daddies, but no actual dads. And never a divorced guy. I'm not?—"

"Full disclosure." Wow, those two words were more terrifying than ‘we should talk.' What had he been keeping a secret? When he turned, I could see the seriousness on his face. My brain went into overdrive. Had he been cheating this entire time? Did that make me the other woman?

I braced for the admission.

"I'm still married. "

My fears became a reality. "Oh…"

Something on my face gave away my internal monologue. He reached for my hand, holding it in his. I could feel the callousness of his fingers as they ran along my palm.

"No. No. It's not what you think. I've signed the— Lucy is just— I…"

He hung his head. The rush to explain himself eased the tension. It didn't remove my fears, but I appreciated his attempts at honesty.

"Just talk to me," I said. If this thing between us had any potential to take off, I wanted it to be from a place of honesty.

"We're legally married." I noted the emphasis. "I signed the papers before we moved. We agreed to it before she left for Africa. There was no rush, so she said she'd sign them when she got back."

"She's just here to sign papers?" I didn't comment on how slowly she must sign documents to still be in town.

"Sort of. Lucy likes to do things on her schedule. I'm nudging her. A lot. I'm sure she'll sign them before she leaves."

It didn't quite answer the burning question. Was it rude to ask when she'd be on a plane? I'm sure there were people in Africa who needed her attention at this very moment. I'd help her book the flight.

"Turnabout is fair play. You have to talk to me, too."

"How long is she here for?"

As the realization spread across his face, he said a silent, " Oh." Simon didn't let go of my hand as he pondered the situation. I had to remember the only virgin thing between us was the territory.

"Lucy is going to be part of my life forever. Whatever disagreements we have about marriage, she's my partner raising Lucas." I had said I'd be okay being number two. I understood Lucas would always come first in his life, and that made me admire him even more. Being bumped to number three might be too far from the top for me.

"I sold our home when I moved here. Lucy didn't have any place to come back to. With her schedule, it made sense for her to stay with us until her next deployment."

The progressive side of me wanted to commend them for making things work. However, something about the situation made me uncomfortable. I think the newness of us, his switching of teams, and the divorce combined gave me pause.

"It's platonic?"

"As platonic as you and Jon."

I forgot Simon had met my ex on our first outing. He didn't bat an eye as Jon sandwiched me between him and Simon. If we could have a relationship that stayed strictly in the friend column, why couldn't Simon and Lucy? Even as I attempted to rationalize away the discomfort, something tugged at me.

"Does she know?" I gestured to each of us.

He shook his head. "About this cute guy from Firefly who makes me smile? Not yet." He pushed through, giving me a ray of hope. Did he have these same conversations with Lucas when he had big feelings?

"It's not fair to ask, I know. But can you give me some time with that?"

"I can… I don't know about Firefly, though."

"Yeah. I need to talk to her before Dorothy whips out the claws." Only been here for a month, and he already understood Dorothy. Maybe he would fit into Firefly?

"I can do that."

I wanted to believe I could. In front of me sat this amazing, sweet, and funny man. He had endured a night of questions from my mom to see me. I had dated nobody like him. At the same time, we were still in the early stages. It'd only take a slight breeze, and our house of cards would come toppling down.

He rested a hand on my cheek, and I couldn't help but lean into it. I knew myself well enough. This would be on my mind until I went to sleep. I'd overanalyze and pick apart the possibilities. I tried focusing on his hand, but already I worried I allowed myself to be a straight man's dirty secret.

Simon leaned in for a kiss. I held up a finger, stopping him. I turned his head to the living room window. Mom didn't dart away quick enough. He chuckled and then went in for a kiss.

"She was going to find out one way or another…"

Would it be the same for Lucy?