Chapter 23
“I know,” Elliot muttered. He scratched his chin before his fingers began twisting strands of his beard, forcing them into half-hearted curls, as he listened to Mick breathing on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Elliot exhaled sharply. How hard could it be? “You have to tell them. If you want us to work, you have to be honest. I’m not going back into the closet for anyone.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Not on purpose. But it feels like you’re shoving me in there and slamming the door in my face when you introduce me as a friend.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“I’ll…I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you.” More silence. “You don’t have to do it today. Just…soon?” Elliot already felt like crap. No need to force his lover to do something that would make him feel shitty, too.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Go mingle.”
“Are we okay?”
Elliot grimaced at the vulnerability in Mick’s voice. Great, now he felt like an even bigger asshole for making his lover feel like that.
“We’re okay, honey. I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Elliot hesitated a second before continuing. “Come over after the party?”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. Now go.”
“I will. Thank you.” Mick hung up.
Elliot didn’t get off the floor. Why was Mick so insecure when it came to his sexuality and their relationship? He was a force to be reckoned with at work, and he was a highly sought-after divorce attorney, incredibly successful for his young age. He could intimidate anyone into agreeing to his terms during a negotiation in a delicate case, but he couldn’t stand up to his boss and let him know he was gay. And it wasn’t like he’d had a bad experience with his parents, like Elliot, to influence his decision. Mick’s parents had always been supportive of him, especially his mom.
Elliot chewed on his lower lip and pulled on the strand of beard he had twisted around his index finger. He probably shouldn’t be so hard on Mick. He needed to be more patient. After all, Elliot knew what it meant to lose everything because of who he loved, and he didn’t want that for Mick.
He groaned and banged his head against the door. Shit. He’d have to apologize to Mick for being insensitive. And practice patience. 2: January
The last class of the first snowy Friday after winter break started like any other. As usual, there had been grumbling when Elliot had presented the overall goals for the term, and the groans grew louder when he’d talked about essay writing, poetry, and grammar. Especially grammar. The kids had perked up a little when he told them they’d start out slow and spend this first hour writing about whatever they wanted. Even something involving Harry and Hermione.
Thirty minutes in, almost everyone seemed to be taking the task seriously, except for one or two who were daydreaming or watching the snow falling outside the window. Elliot couldn’t blame them. He had a hard time taking advantage of this quiet time to get work done. Instead, his gaze was drawn outside to the large snowflakes gently drifting down, blanketing everything in pristine whiteness.
He sighed, wishing he could get out of the classroom and enjoy the snow while it lasted, before it turned into a gray, slushy mess that made traffic a bitch and everyone unhappy.
Elliot loved the first snow, the way it put a dampening layer on the world and slowed everything down. Even the big city grew quieter and calmer, filling him with a serenity he hardly ever felt anymore this far away from home. Of course, it only lasted a short time before snowplows cleared the roads and exhaust from the gazillion cars took care of the white.
Which is why he would have preferred being out there, catching snowflakes on his tongue or making angels in the powdery snow, instead of being stuck in a room with twenty-three almost-teenagers, trying to teach them the joy of writing in the English language, when all they really wanted to do was play games on their cell phones.
He sighed again and turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. If he didn’t want to spend the entire weekend playing catch-up, he had to get some work done.
Not many minutes had passed before some kind of commotion pulled him out of his concentration, and he looked up to see what was going on. A couple of girls whispered in the back. Next to them, a boy stared at something with his mouth hanging open. Elliot followed his line of sight, trying to see what had caused the disruption. At a desk by the window, a boy with dirty blonde hair played with something bright orange.