Chapter Ten: Subdued

When David returned home, Jane's car was gone from the garage. He went inside and heard nothing – no one was home. This did not strike him as particularly odd, Arthur usually hung out with his friends for an hour or so after school and D.W. could be next door with the Tibbles. Kate would most likely be with her mother.

It was rare that he found himself completely alone in this big house. He wandered around, pausing to touch a plaster crack in the wall or a scuff mark on the paint. He thought about Nigel's house, with its pristine appearance and no evidence of childproofing. Something caught the corner of his eye: a note on the refrigerator.

Hastily scrawled, almost as an afterthought –

Went to Thora's with the kids. Will be staying there for a few days. – J

He was slightly amused, Jane never signed anything with her first initial and he suspected that her intention was to feign cordial distance. Shame that you have to stay with my mother to do that, sweetheart.

His phone vibrated and he saw a text from Nigel: How's everything going?

He responded that everyone was out of the house for a few days. Were he and his wife officially separated? What did that even mean, 'separated'? None of his friends had been separated; he had nothing to compare the experience to. The phone vibrated again.

Join me for dinner?

Finally, something with a clear answer.

Dinner turned out to be a creamy stroganoff with mashed potatoes. David had two helpings and complimented his host, who waved it off. "I do all right on my own, but I don't really think it compares to your skill."

"That's ridiculous. You know, people think that just because I'm a chef, I want to cook all the time. But I think of it more as a job than a hobby and honestly, I love it when someone else cooks."

Nigel smiled. "Good to know."

Silence followed, but it was not uncomfortable. It was the silence of savoring a moment.

"So," Nigel said, pushing some potato around with his fork, "How did it feel, coming home and finding the note?"

David sighed, prepared for the question. "I was relieved. She needs time to think and so do I. And there are so many ways this could go. She could want a longer separation, or want me to move out. Possibly a divorce, but that's unlikely."

"Why?"

"She suspects I'm having an affair but she doesn't know for sure. That'll probably weigh heavily into her decision."

Nigel leaned back. "I'm hearing a lot of what Jane's thinking. What about you?"

"That's where I'm stuck. Obviously I want the least destructive route for her and the kids. Kids with divorced parents… how badly does that affect them psychologically?"

Nigel took a sip of wine. "Not as badly as married people would like to believe." (David snorted a little at this.) "But there are lots of factors involved. If… if you decide to divorce, you need to consider living situations. Financial support. Communication with Jane and communication with the kids. That's key. Lots of parents think that the more removed their children are from the situation, the less they'll be affected by it. Nothing could be further from the truth. Children are marvelously intuitive and they pick up on everything, so you'd need to be a step ahead of them. Anticipate their questions and prepare consistent answers. Yes, you still love them. No, this is not their fault. Yes, you will still be in their lives. That sort of thing."

David nodded grimly. "I just… I think I'm still in denial about the whole thing."

His partner was silent, somehow knowing that he was trying to translate his feelings and giving him time to do so.

With some trepidation, he continued. "You know, a couple of months ago I almost regretted the direction I took with my life. Marrying young, having kids right away, it just seemed like I didn't have enough time for myself, even though it was the only thing I wanted. And it was my fault, you know? I made that decision. I saw my friends getting married and they were just, just ballistic about how happy it made them. Like, they were finally complete. All it took for them to be happy was this other person. And here I was, getting married and still not feeling content. So I thought, a child must be the answer - then our family will be whole. And if that doesn't happen, we'll have another. And another. And I think it was shortly after Kate was born that I finally got it:

"The problem isn't that I haven't had enough kids, or haven't achieved all of the customary nuclear family milestones that I see my friends accomplishing every day. The problem was always with me. I kept looking for these epiphanies to happen because I refused to believe that I was the person holding me back."

Hearing these words in his own voice shocked him. They were out of his head now, hanging in the air. His hands slowly and instinctively lifted to cradle his head, now falling forward. His face felt hot, burning his palms. But he didn't cry, what he felt was beyond shame. It was the realization that the last decade of his life was denial, a tremendous lie he made himself believe. He was too angry at himself to weep at a life wasted. He was a bad father, a bad husband.

Soft fingers gently closed around his wrists and pulled his hands from his face. "David."

He didn't respond.

The hands lifted to his cheeks, thumbs running under his eyes. "David. Don't discount your life. That's a dangerous road to go down."

He sighed, a wavering exhale that betrayed his grief. "Don't they say that… admitting you have a problem is the first step?"

Nigel's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I wouldn't call what you said an admission. I'd call it an incredibly farfetched assumption. Now listen – if you said something like, 'I cheated on my wife and I need to make it right,' or 'I'm going through a separation and I need to re-evaluate my future,' those would be admissions. What you're saying is that your whole life, from the time you got married, has been a complete denial of what you really want, which makes it a waste. Correct?"

"Well yeah, but when you say it like that, it just sounds melodramatic."

Nigel raised an eyebrow and David realized the absurdity of his words. "Okay, so I guess it was a melodramatic thought to begin with."

Hands ran through his hair. "Would it help if I told you that you're a good father?"

David smiled, a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Remember what you told me at the parent-teacher conference? That I'm patient and I love my son? I never stopped thinking about that."

"And remember how defensive you got when I suggested that you spend more time with him? You might be saying that fatherhood wouldn't have been the first thing on your mind if you had a chance to do it over again. I'm saying that there's no doubt in my mind that it would have found you eventually."

"How do you know that?"

Nigel's eyes cast over with a distant memory, some emotion that David had never seen on his face before and couldn't define. "I believe that some people are born with a predisposition to be parents. You see it in their actions, their character. You see it as they teach others, or assume a command that is almost nurturing. They're selfless, but it's a special kind of selfless. It comes from being intuitive to the needs of others, of cooperation and consensus."

David remembered. "You said… that me working with different people must make me very intuitive."

Nigel nodded.

"Was that what drew you to me?"

He shook his head. "No David, I fell in love with you from the moment I first saw you."

The words hit him like a bolt of lightning. His hands trembled as they reached up to rest on Nigel's neck, feeling his strong jawline, muscles under his fingertips, a strong pulse against his palm. Their lips met in a soft kiss that continued from the table, down the hall, to the bedroom. As they fell together on the mattress, their bodies intertwining together, David felt an absurd level of freedom from no longer pretending.

Nigel opened the bedroom window. The cold air rested lightly on his bare skin as cars and sirens could be heard faintly. The night smelled wonderful.

He looked over his shoulder. David was sleeping, the sheets flung errantly across his legs. He was still naked, light from the window seemed to divide his body into geometric shapes. He was on his back, one arm over his head, legs apart. Nigel pulled the comforter over him and his eyes opened. They slid together and lay quietly, listening to the wind, the cars, the birds.

Nigel was just drifting off to sleep when he heard David whisper, "I love you too, you know."

But maybe it was only a dream.