50. Fischer

50

FISCHER

I can't do this.

I cannot fucking do this .

Not seeing Matthew is like having ants crawling underneath my skin. Not knowing how he's doing is an agony on par with being nearly blown up.

I need to get to him, but I'm so fucking paranoid someone will follow me. Now that Nicole has gone as far as taking Vaughn from me, I wouldn't put it past her to have hired a private detective to get proof of our relationship. Who the fuck knows? Maybe she already has it, and we're suffering for no reason.

But I can't let this turn into a scandal. Donna—in her email —made that clear. She implied that not only would I be sacrificing Vaughn but Maggie's engagement as well. Evidently, the Marches are all up in this mess, which explains a lot about why Maggie's being so awful.

Still, I need to figure out is how to speak to Matthew without making this situation any worse. I thought maybe we could meet up at the club, but then I thought about the glass-walled room—what we did together in plain sight—and I realize there are no safe places.

Other than work, I haven't left the apartment because I need him to be able to find me if he comes looking. To be fair, I don't expect him to. I'm the one who left. I'm the coward here, but my separation anxiety is intense and by far the worst part of all of this. By far . Hour to hour I give less and less of a shit about anything else but him.

I miss him. The pain is the same kind of searing pain that leads to trauma because of how much fear is wrapped inside it.

I'm scared for him, and I'm scared for myself. So scared that I've nearly called him so many times and haven't been able to put more than one call through. And I'm scared that hearing his voice will be too much. That it will start the craving I can't control. Will prolong the suffering of losing one more part of me.

I'm a wound that's still bleeding. Waiting for the clot. The scab. The itch and the urge to pick at it because maybe I don't want this one to heal. Maybe I don't want to pick myself up and dust myself off this time. Maybe this time, it's best to remember who I belong to. Who I've belonged to for almost a decade. He changed me, and I don't want to change back. And I can't hide from that anymore.

If loving him from a distance is the only way to love him, then I'll do it the best I can, but I'm not going to try to convince myself that anyone else could make me whole.

His text was the worst thing I've ever read. The ambiguity of his apology ripped me apart. Sorry for what ? Nicole finding out? For "dragging me into this" because that feels like something Matthew would blame himself for. Or was it—I'm sorry it's over when neither one of us wants it to be.

And I can't claim my response was well thought out. It was hurt. Hurting. Disappointed. Yearning and lost. Maybe pathetic. Maybe, even, a copout. Maybe another excuse. More ambiguity. Because I can't admit to myself or to him that it's over. That it will ever be over. If seven years without him didn't do it, seven or seventy more years certainly won't. Not now that I've finally allowed myself to picture a future with him in it. I can't just unsee that.

After speaking with Gibson, it's clear to me that this dark moment comes down to a choice: my child or Matthew. My career is hardly a factor. I can accept a smaller life. I'm a journalist. A writer. An expert full of strong opinions I can articulate well. I've changed my name once, and I can do it again. I've never given a shit about my name. On my birth certificate I was Baby Boy Alexander. No one at Riker's even bothered to give me a name before they shipped me to the mainland into emergency foster care were I became Luke, briefly, and then soon, the Cannons got hold of me and named me Fischer Vaughn.

I've invested well, so I have the time and space to reestablish my career another way. And I certainly don't need an apartment on the Upper East Side to tell me I'm worth something. It's a nice neighborhood, end of story. I prefer the loft in the Bronx, but the price of having it, turns out, is far, far too high.

Lunch feels like a summoning. Like I'm some demon my so-called family conjured. The way they all watch my approach with caution in their eyes makes me light up with rage.

I take my seat and order a bloody Mary, enjoying Donna's wince.

"Fischer," Dick says gently from my left. "Thank you for coming."

I glare at him. He's not immune here. I cast my gaze at Donna once again. "Go ahead. I don't have all day, and I'm sure you all have better things to do."

"Nothing is more important than this," she hisses, like she's trying to keep us from being overheard. Interesting choice meeting in public, although, to her credit, we're on the Upper West Side. "What has your lawyer done to fix this?"

"That's privileged," I say.

"Fischer."

"It's none of your business."

"My grandson is my business."

"Correction—Vaughn is my child. You're no longer my guardian. You have no grandchildren."

Maggie gasps.

Donna, however, isn't playing. "I'm not your guardian, Fischer. I'm your mother . Whether you like it or not, you don't age out of adoption. We're as related in the eyes of this state as Maggie and I are."

I grimace because she's right, and I'd do well to remember that. There's a reason Nicole's threat holds weight. New York doesn't view adopted siblings any differently than blood-related siblings.

"Where's Matthew?" I ask.

"We thought it was better not to have him here," Maggie says quietly.

I'd been stupid to hope then. I've been stupid for a long time. Why it still surprises me is a mystery.

"How else can I help you all?" I ask.

"Son," Dick begins in that gentle way he has— so much like Matthew . "I know this has to feel like we're all against you, but we're on your side. No one wants to see you have your son taken away."

I clench my jaw, suddenly close to losing my composure. I clear my throat. "Has anyone spoken to Nicole?"

Silence.

"No?" I ask to clarify, glancing specifically at Maggie who gives her head a small shake and then Donna who looks down at her plate.

"So you're all comfortable letting her believe that I groomed your child from a very young age in order to eventually become my lover but only after I married a woman, had a child, and then got divorced? And that I would do this again with my own flesh and blood? That's your position?"

"Jesus, Fischer," Maggie whispers.

"That's what had to have happened right? Because it couldn't possibly have happened the way Matthew said it did. I had to have been planning this for years. Just biding my time until my wife who I chose left me because I was living overseas for months at a time. Makes perfect sense. I don't know how I managed to pull the wool over your eyes for so long. My plan was so obvious."

"Enough," Donna says.

Our gazes clash.

"You've made your point."

"I hope so," I say. "You're all disgusting if you think I would ever hurt a child. No offense, Maggie, but I don't blame Stuart's parents for not wanting to be associated with this family."

Her eyes go wide, and I admit, that was a low blow, but no one's asking her to give up what I'm being asked to. She seems to get that and keeps her mouth shut.

My drink is served, and I take a sip. "What else?" I ask.

"How can we help?" Dick asks.

"You could start with telling Nicole the truth. You could take all this big, united front Cannon energy and aim it at the person who can actually do something about this. If she's freaking out, you can calm her down. If she's a homophobe, you can report back to me, and I'll pass that on to my attorney."

"What is the truth?" Donna asks.

I have half a mind to tell her that's also none of her business, but I don't. If she needs to hear it from my mouth, I'm happy to tell her. I've got nothing left to lose. "The truth is that Matthew was there for me during one of the most mentally and physically painful times in my life. That he never left my side. That he took care of me better than any doctor or nurse. That he loved me like a brother and like a friend, and he never complained. He held me together when every single day I thought I would fall apart."

A tear slips down Donna's cheek, and Dick clears his throat.

"I fell in love with him, and I let him go. I don't regret it. We were close, but despite what any of you might think, we weren't lovers. He was young. I felt like I still had something to prove with my work. I wanted to start a family. I did. It didn't work out. And when I came home in January, Matthew was there to help me pick up the pieces again . Then, and only then , did we acknowledge what we have goes deeper than friendship. And you know what kills me?"

They stare silently back at me.

"He never thought for a second any one of you would be anything less than happy for us."

"It's not about that, Fischer—it's about Vaughn," Donna says.

"For you? Apparently it is. But have you checked on your son ? Do you have any idea what knowing we're all sitting here together would do to him? Because I do ." I press my palms to the table and take a deep breath. "I appreciate that you've taken care of Vaughn. That you love him, and you were there for him when I was gone. But you've got your own son to worry about. Let me worry about mine. If you'll excuse me, I don't want to be here anymore."

"Fischer, wait—" Dick says. Maggie calls out, too, as I turn from the table and limp away from it.

Maggie catches up with me at the door. Her hand lands on my arm. I jerk away from her touch. She looks stung. "I'll go see him. I'm sorry."

"I don't want to know about it," I tell her. "Just make sure he's okay. That's the only thing that matters."

Guilt descends like a nuclear winter as I leave the Cannons behind.

Nothing is irreversible. Words can be taken back. But making the choice to leave Matthew is the worst thing I've ever experienced.

He might break, he might not.

I'll live in hell on earth then die and rot in it eternally.

I've reached my limit. I'm no martyr. I'm a father. And I can only take so much before I call this what it is. A chance to prove I can do what my own biological parent couldn't. Put my child's needs before my own.

But I'm also just a man, and I know deep in my soul where my love for Matthew lives and breathes and beats like my own heart, that I will never forgive the people who forced me to abandon the one person in the world who would never in a hundred lifetimes have abandoned me.