Where Nerves End

we were still married without kids. But with Dylan in the picture…”
“She didnt mind Dylan living with me, though.”
Michael lowered his gaze. “She doesnt know youre gay.”
“Oh.”
He exhaled. “I should have told her, but I…guess I didnt want to make matters complicated.” Laughing dryly, he shook his head. “That worked out, didnt it?”
“Yeah, really.”
“Well, theres only one way to find out what she thinks, I guess,” he said.
“Yeah. I guess there is.”
I was halfway through my second cup of coffee, and Michael had just put on another kettle of that foul tea, when an engine outside turned our heads. It slowed, then idled, then cut off. A second later, a car door closed.
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked.
Footsteps outside. Heels clicking on concrete, then hitting the wooden porch with an echoing thunk .
“Not much choice now,” Michael said. The doorbell rang and he took a deep breath.
I stayed in the kitchen while he answered the door. The air pressure in the room changed almost imperceptibly as the door opened, then again when it closed. Muffled voices—pleasant and friendly from the sound of it—murmured in the foyer. Then came the footsteps: the soft sound of Michaels bare feet and the loud, deliberate crack of high heels on a hard floor.
She stepped into the kitchen first, and smiled at me. “Hi, Jason. Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I said with a difficult smile.
Behind the warmth in her smile and handshake, she was uneasy. Whether or not she suspected anything in particular, she must have known there was some reason Michael had asked her here. Something that needed to be handled in person instead of on the phone, and my continuing presence was a wild card that seemed to unsettle her. Was I part of this? Had I just not gotten the clue that now was a good time for me to get the fuck out?
Resting her hands on the counter, she looked at Michael. “So, you wanted to talk to me about something.” Her eyes darted toward me, and when I didnt move, she tensed a little more. Either I was missing an obvious cue, or I was part of this, and I had a feeling she wasnt sure which.
“Yes, I want to talk,” Michael said. “And I…” He glanced at me and I gave him a nod that was, I hoped, reassuring. He laid his hands flat on the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looked at her. “I needed to talk to you. With Jason.”
She swallowed. “About?”
“Well,” he said. “I…”
The room fell silent. Beside me, he tapped his fingers nervously on the counter, probably frantically searching for the words. It was all I could do not to give his hand a gentle squeeze, but that would give us away and rob him of his chance to be honest with her about it.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between us, and though she didnt speak, the truth was coming together in her mind. She knew. I could see it in her eyes as she searched mine, then his, then mine again for confirmation. Confirmation I couldnt grant her and could come only from Michael when he found the words.
Finally, Michael put his hand over mine on the counter, and the truth was out. What he couldnt say verbally, hed declared physically in that unmistakable gesture. I watched as their eyes met across the narrow kitchen.
Daina jumped like the contact between our hands had physically shocked her. “Whats…” Her eyes darted back and forth between us. Barely whispering, she said, “Michael, are you telling me…youre…gay?”
He nodded slowly. Then he said, his voice no louder than hers had been, “Yes. Im gay.”
Her hands searched blindly for the counter behind her, and when they found it, she leaned heavily against it, wavering slightly as if her legs had suddenly forgotten how to hold her up on their own. After a moment, one shaking hand rose off the counter and ran through her hair, and she suddenly looked…lost.
Michael and I exchanged brief, uncertain glances. This was the sinking-in, the comprehending. Lord knew what kind of reaction would follow once the words found their way into her mind and there settled.
Evidently confident that her legs would hold her up, she folded her arms across her chest. It didnt appear to be a hostile or defensive stance. If anything, she was hugging herself. Bracing herself.
Finally she looked at Michael. “How long have you known?”
Michael and I released held breaths in unison. Shed skipped over denial—bypassing “what do you mean youre gay?” or