24. Seth

SETH

I busy myselfon the return trip with work. Lots of work. Headphones in, eyes glued to my computer screen work. I ignore Bridget to the best of my ability, so much so that Abigail pinches me at one point and tells me I'm being as asshole.

Yes. She's correct. I'm an asshole.

Back in New York, I throw myself into my work even deeper. Long nights at the office, not a single visit to the club. Just work, eat, and sleep.

Well, not eat. Not really. My grief has taken up residency in both my chest and my stomach, making it impossible for me to eat more than a few bites of anything.

I do have plenty of room for alcohol, though. It is not a good habit to get into, drinking every night. Drinking sometimes as early as noon too.

I just want to forget. Want to forget I felt a fucking thing ever.

Bridget has every right to the way she feels, but I'll be damned if I don't hold her accountable for ripping my heart into a million pieces and throwing them around like confetti.

Every phone call from a number I don't recognize I pray will be her on the end of the line, saying in her sweet voice, "Seth? Can we talk?"

It never is. Of course, it isn't.

I have half a mind to pull a Nate.

Years ago now, Nate up and left New York after a falling out with Edwin, abandoned us all for LA.

In the nighttime hours, when heartbreak has been keeping me awake, I daydream of where I could go to escape it all.

Every time I settle on a location, though, Bridget shows up in my fantasy.

In Barcelona, she poses on the steps of the Sagrada Familia. In Cambodia, she walks the halls of Angkor Wat. Even when I give up on beautiful locations, I still see her on the streets of Topeka, Kansas.

She is in every corner of my mind. Which means I will never be able to escape her.

Bridget will follow me everywhere. Unless I get over her.

But I can't just get over her. Not after all of these years carrying a torch for her in pained silence. And not when she's still my sub.

God, I hope she's still wearing her collar for me.

On top of all of this, the ghost of my father has been following me. I have been having scores of memories of him. Ones that haven't crossed my mind in years.

I want to talk to my mom about him, but I'm afraid it will hurt her. She was devastated after the accident. As was I. And though she's never blamed me, not outwardly or even implicitly, I can't help but feel there's a part of her that wonders what actually happened out there.

Or even wishes it was me who didn't make it instead of him.

So, I bury myself in codes and algorithms, fixing problems and trying to get myself out of every meeting I possibly can.

I'm distracted only when my phone starts buzzing repeatedly.

Jack: Hey man. We're going out tonight.

Jack: Hate to say it but Abigail was right. Think it's time I put myself out there.

Jack: Wanna come?

I drop my phone and rub my hands over my face.

Fuck.

I start to type out my response. A short, "No, but thank you."

But Jack beats me to the punch.

Jack: Don't be a hermit, dude.

Well, fuck it. Fine.

I'll tell Bridget. I'll cut things off. And then tonight, I'll be available to whomever crosses my path. And if I can't pick someone up at the club, I'll go find a sub in the Underground. That's the way to get over somebody. Get under someone else, right? Or in my case, very much on top of.

Except the mere thought of having a sub other than Bridget sends a wave of nausea through me.

How will I possibly move on? How could I even suggest that to myself?

I text him back quickly.

I'll wing for you, dude.

Hopefully, a night out might get my mind off things. At least I won't be drinking alone. Don't have to make any moves on anyone. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could.

The second I press send, another text rolls in. Except, it's in a different thread.

I back out into my list of contacts and feel the nausea return. A good nausea, though.

Because Bridget just texted me.

I open up the thread with the utmost caution, afraid I might tap on something I don't mean to and screw everything up. Need to treat this situation with the utmost care.

Hope you're having a good week. 3 I Just wanted to say…I'm still here for you. I know it's not the way you want, but I don't want things to end just because we can't–

I don't even finish reading the message. I take the phone and whip it across the room before dropping my head onto my desk.

I don't need more excuses from her.

Why doesn't she understand if I can't have her in the deepest way a man can, I can't be around her? It will be too hard, too painful to know that I am not worth the leap.

I understand she's scared. I'm scared too. But doesn't the possibility of what lies on the other side of the fear intrigue her enough to at least try?

I love her.

Why didn't I say that?

Before I understand what's happening, I rise to my feet, grab my jacket, and walk out of my office.

My brain doesn't know where I'm going. But my body does. And when my brain links up with my body, I realize what's happening.

I'm going to my mother's house.

I'm going to tell her.

And that way, Bridget won't have to worry.

I'll take the heat. I'll bear the burden.

And then I can love her out loud.

My mother pourshot water into my cup.

I watch the tea bag erupt with redness through the water.

Who knew raspberry tea could look so violent?

"I'm so glad you stopped by today, honey." She sits in the chair next to me at the kitchen table. She touches my wrist in such a tender way it makes me want to cry. "I haven't seen you since your trip. I want to hear all about it."

I take the string of my tea bag and bob it up and down, dispersing the redness more and more until the tea is all a beautiful ruby color. "It was good."

"Yeah?"

I nod. I glance around the house. "Solomon is out, you said?"

"Yes, he's at the office today. Just you and me," she says with a gleeful bounce. "I'm so happy you showed up!"

My heart breaks, knowing I'm about to totally ruin her day.

She smiles down into her cup of tea, twists the cup on her saucer. She's more patient than me, allowing the tea to steep before bobbing it up and down. "Was it nice to visit the old house?"

"Yeah, it was good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

We are quiet for a few moments. Me bobbing the tea bag, her watching her tea.

"Was it difficult at all?" she asks.

"Mom."

She bites her lower lip before finding the next thing to say. "I was surprised you wanted to go down there. I mean, I haven't been ready, and it's been–"

"Well, if we're not going to sell it, someone should enjoy it, right?"

My mother sighs. "Right. No. You're right about that. I mean, we rent it out, it's an investment. Not a burden."

I know the property as a rental narrowly breaks even. We're holding onto it because we don't know how to let go of it.

"Well, you had your friends. I hope that they were able to support you if you were feeling…down."

I laugh under my breath in a wry way.

Yes. Down. That's a word for it.

My mom reaches out and strokes her fingernails through my hair. I'm taken aback, lifting my eyes from my tea to look at her.

There comes a point in life where you suddenly realize that your parents have gotten older. I've only had the privilege of that experience with my mother. All the thin wrinkles on her cheeks and the silvery strands of hair amidst her curls. Her kind blue eyes are the same. Her smile is the same.

The look on her face could break my heart if I let it.

"You know, you never visit me during the workday?"

I blink. "I don't?"

"Don't act surprised," she says with a light laugh. "You're busy. I know that. I just like when you go out of your way to see me. When it's not family dinner. That feels like the only time I see you these days."

Is that really true? Am I such a shitty son that not only am I disregarding my mother, but I also haven't even realized it? "I'm sorry I haven't been around."

"I don't need an apology, honey." Her nails softly slide down my neck in a comforting motion. "I'm just so happy to see you."

Her expression is so earnest.

The truth pounds at the seal of my lips. The desire to let it all go.

"Did Bridget enjoy it? I've always wanted to take her down there. I thought she'd like it."

And there it is. She just walked right into the reason I'm here.

A reason for me. Not for her.

Dammit. I'm a shitty son.

My mother furrows her brow, removes her hand from my neck, and sits back in her chair. "Have a sip of tea, honey, you're looking faint. Have you been eating?"

I watch her as she blows on her teacup.

I can't hold the truth in a second longer. "I'm in love with Bridget."

She freezes with the cup a centimeter from her lips. Her big, blue eyes turn to me. Her stare is not scathing or angered. It's confused. Majorly confused. Which is more than reasonable. "Come again?"

"I'm…we're…" I stare into the cup of red. "I love her."

Mom puts her cup down into the saucer. "Wait, let's think through this, honey. I know you're close, I mean, we're family." She lets out an awkward laugh. "Are you sure you're feeling alright these days?"

"It's the truth," I say. "I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well, uh, that's different," she says. "That we can talk about. But love? Are you sure, Seth?"

Fuck it. Lay it all out there. "We've been sleeping together."

Now it's my mother's turn to go pale. She stares at me.

"More than…that. But that's not the point." I don't need my mother knowing my preferences behind closed doors.

"You can't mean…you don't mean Bridget. Bridget Bridget. Solomon's Bridget. Must be a different…" She stops when she realizes I'm nodding. "Oh my god, you're serious."

"Why would I lie about that?"

She places her hands against her cheeks. "How did…how did this happen?"

"It just…did." I shrug. "I've always been interested in her."

"You have?"

I don't bother beating around the bush. All I can do is give her the truth. The facts. "It's true. And she's always been interested in me."

She places her head in her hand. "Oh my god. This is…"

"I know it's a lot."

"Seth, this is…well," she says with another uncomfortable laugh. "You know I'm married to her father, so you two are–"

I lay my hands out on the table. "Don't you think I know that? Of course, I know that. That's why I'm telling you that, why I'm trying to explain to you why I'm…why it's…"

"So, you two are together now? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No, she–" A lump grows in my throat. "She won't take me like that."

My mother frowns, her head bouncing back. "I'm confused."

I swallow. "We were just keeping things…physical." That's not not the truth.

My mother plays with her wedding ring.

We don't talk about this kind of thing for obvious reasons.

"A secret. Because we knew…we know it's wrong. Or strange. Or–" I bite down on my lower lip. "Mom, being down there and remembering everything…" My voice warbles, and I know I'm not long for keeping it together.

She puts her hand on my knee. "I should've told you not to go down there, I should've known it would–"

"No, Mom. I've been keeping down all the hurt for so many years. I haven't dealt with any of it. I miss him so much." A few tears slide down my cheeks. Thankfully, nothing like the torrent I experienced with Bridget.

My mom wicks the tears away. "I know you do, honey. I do too."

"But you have Solomon. I can't replace my dad."

Her brow furrows. "Solomon has never been a replacement for your dad, honey."

"But you…you fell in love with him. And he's trying to be all buddy buddy with me and–"

"You and I are allowed to have people in our lives that love us and care about us the way your father did," she says. "That doesn't mean we're replacing him or moving on. The grief will always be there."

I tilt my head back as more tears pour down my face. "I want to feel complete again."

"That will never…be the case after you've lost someone."

"I want to try!" I burst without thinking.

My mother sits a bit straighter, stunned at my outburst.

"I want…I need…" I try to steady my breath. "Bridget…fills something in me I didn't know needed filling until I went down there, and I realized how hollow I've been all these years."

When our eyes meet again, I see my mother is crying too.

"Don't cry, Mom. That's going to make me cry more…" Crying after over a decade of not crying is painful. The tension in my jaw and the front of my neck is shattering.

"I didn't realize you were in so much pain," she says. "I'm such an idiot."

I have never held it against her for meeting Solomon. For falling in love with him. But it did happen fast. Only a couple of years after Dad died.

And then they were getting married.

She went from an era of darkness to an era of light. In the blink of an eye.

But I remained in the darkness. Just tried to smile so she didn't worry.

"You're not an idiot, Mom."

She says nothing. And I say nothing.

The truth is still out there. Undealt with and unclaimed.

"I know it's not convenient," I say in a soft tone. "But I fell in love with Bridget."

"Did you tell her?"

"Not that I love her."

My mom waves her hand. "Oh, Seth."

"What?! That's a scary thing to say!"

She tsks. "I know, I know, But you have to let people know how you feel."

"Well, she knows I want to be with her."

"And she doesn't feel the same?"

I shrug. "She doesn't want to ruin things for you and Solomon. Maybe that's her way of sparing my feelings but… I don't know."

My mom's lips spread into a wide smile. "And you're telling me because you want to clear the pathway so you two can have a shot. Is that right?"

I look down. "Yeah. I know it's not an easy thing to accept. And I'm sorry for going behind your back, but–"

"You two are adults. And you're not…it's not like you were kids together. I'm sure this isn't the first time something like this has happened. If anything, this explains so many of the quarrels you two have had over the years."

I chuckle. "Well, I suppose."

"All I need to know as your mother is that she makes you happy. Does she make you happy, Seth?"

I make sure to look her in her eyes. "I didn't know that I could feel like this again, Mom. After Dad died, I thought my life would pale in comparison to one spent with him. But Bridget has made me see that's not true."

"Then, I see nothing wrong with it. I'll do whatever you can to help."

"Really?"

"Of course. My baby is in love. I've always wondered why you haven't brought a girl home, and it turns out it's because she's been here the whole time."

I groan. "Moooommm."

She pats my hand. "I'm teasing you. Drink some tea."

We sip our tea quietly for a few moments, and I relish that the world has not imploded around me.

"Don't tell Solomon," I say. "Just. Not yet."

She puts her fingers to her lips and twists like a key in a lock. "Secret safe with me. And Seth?"

"Hm."

Her eyes crinkle.

My mother's entire being is love to me. And I think I've forgotten that over the years.

I don't think I've really seen the world for all its beauty before Bridget.

"You two will look so cute together," she says.

Gotta admit…didn't know I wanted to hear that. I beam. "Thanks, Mom."

Now the question is, will Bridget think the same?