Chapter Fifteen: Epilogue

Six months after being discharged from the hospital, David sat out on the porch, enjoying a cool beer on the warm spring day.

He had a feeling it would rain that evening. His back would tense up with weather changes, almost like an ache. Six months of therapy, bi-weekly chiropractor visits, opioids for days when the pain was almost unbearable – and even with all that, his back still felt odd. His doctor asked if he wanted to consider surgery, but he replied that he'd rather give it a few more months to work itself out. Prolonging the inevitable once again, he once thought to himself. Only instead of hiding from my ex-wife, I'm hiding from my body.

In the meantime, an ugly jagged scar ran across his spine, a reminder of the transgressions that ended his marriage. He might as well have been branded with a scarlet "A".

The divorce had been painful, but not vengeful. Though it had been tense at times (especially when it came to figuring out how to divide their assets and a visitation schedule with their children), he and Jane had made it as amicable as possible. At the end of the day, they both wanted what was best for the kids.

Those were the tough conversations. Disbelief, crying, even empty threats ("I'm telling Grandma Thora on you!" D.W. swore after one particularly painful sit-down). Sometimes David left the house wondering if he'd made the right decision, if what he wanted was worth upending his children's happiness and destroying their idyllic perception of their parents' marriage.

Unexpectedly, Jane had found a kindred spirit in Bitzi Baxter. They had begun taking Arthur and Buster on fun trips together, two single moms with two active boys. Although David suspected that Arthur was struggling to navigate this new family unit, his close friendship with Buster allowed him to grieve with an empathetic friend.

D.W. had a hard time with the change and began talking with Nadine more frequently, often in front of other people. After some discussion, Jane and David agreed that it would be best to enlist the help of a child therapist. D.W. obviously had a lot on her mind, and David suspected that she blamed herself and Arthur for the divorce. She was often quiet during their visits, and much more withdrawn than was normal for her. Although both parents had explained that they loved her as much as before, their attempts to assuage her fears had the opposite effect: She felt like they were both lying to her, and she distrusted them completely.

David heard the door open behind him and felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he covered it with his own. As bad as he had it, Nigel was fighting his own demons.

Not wanting to risk the chance of being suspended and putting Arthur through more stress as rumors floated around, Nigel decided to resign from his teaching position. David had initially pushed back on this – he could move to another classroom, another floor in the building maybe – but Nigel was steadfast. David didn't understand how small the elementary school was, how many chances he'd have of running into Arthur in the hallways or the cafeteria.

And it was for his own mental health as well. The fact that one of the teachers had run off with a student's parent was salacious enough, he didn't want to deal with his friends and colleagues silently judging him. Best to have a clean break and let them mutter amongst themselves. His true friends – Principal Haney, Mr. Marco, Ms. Velez – remained in his life.

As for Arthur, Nigel had made it clear to David that under no circumstances should he try to force a friendship with his former teacher. David understood that out of everyone who felt betrayed by his affair, Arthur was the one who Nigel felt truly regretful about. He held himself personally accountable for traumatizing a young boy – a boy who had looked to him for guidance, who had trusted and admired him. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself for that.

Nigel outlined his boundaries for David. If Arthur wanted to contact him, he would be there in a heartbeat. He would accommodate any small steps, any form of communication. But it would be Arthur's decision to open that door. And six months later, it was still firmly shut.

In the meantime, David had gotten his own apartment. Nigel understood why he chose that over moving in with him – he wasn't going to put his children through the trauma of visiting him at his boyfriend's house – but it still stung a little bit. David assured him that it was a temporary thing: as everyone got more comfortable with these life changes, he might be able to move in with Nigel or even purchase a new house together. For now, they would both need to be content with spending every other weekend living together as a couple, with some overnights in-between.

This was one of those weekends, and both savored every moment. Twin chairs were out on the porch, separated by a small wrought iron bistro table with a glass top. The two sat together quietly, occasionally reaching over to squeeze a hand.

"There's something on your mind," Nigel remarked suddenly, quietly. After all their months together, his exquisite intuition had only sharpened. He could walk into a room and determine David's mood almost immediately, without him saying anything. He knew when to empathize and when to problem-solve, when to listen and when to speak.

David once asked him (not-seriously-but-kind-of-seriously) if he could read minds, which Nigel responded to with a cryptic wink: "Just yours."

So he nodded and exhaled. "It's about Arthur." Nigel immediately tensed up.

"No, everything's fine," David clarified. "He wants to talk to you."

A beat. "When?"

"Next week, after I take him to soccer practice."

Nigel nodded. "Did he give you a sense of how he's feeling?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say he's more confused than angry at this point. He probably wants to make sure you're still you."

Nigel chuckled a little at this. "Perhaps I'll give him a pop quiz to assure him of that."

David smiled and brought the bottle to his lips.

At 2:30am, David woke up to the sound of Nigel moaning.

He didn't know what it was at first, and in his semi-conscious state thought that the wind was maybe picking up outside the window. If it didn't sound so close to him, he would have been tempted to go back to sleep.

Then, Nigel started jerking his legs and David was instantly alerted. He immediately pulled his lover close to him and whispered, "Hey, hey. You're dreaming."

Nigel's eyes snapped open and he gasped. Without thinking, he pushed David away and pulled himself up to prop up on the mattress. He was breathing hard and a hand flew to his eyes. David gave him time to compose himself.

"I'm sorry," Nigel muttered, without turning to look at him. "It was a nightmare."

"I could tell. Jesus, I've never seen you sleep like that."

Nigel's hand lingered too long near his face and he shuddered. With alarm, David realized: He was crying.

He wrapped his arms around him and felt him tense up involuntarily, then relax. "Must have been awful."

The room was silent for a while, both of them allowing their breath to slow, their bodies to relax and lie down together. Nigel rested against David's shoulder, eyes open. He lay there long enough to wonder if David had drifted off again. When he snuck a peek at his face, he was surprised to find that he was wide awake.

Nigel smiled a little. "You can go back to sleep. I'm fine."

David didn't smile. "You expect me to be able to fall asleep after seeing you have a nightmare like that? No fucking way."

Nigel groaned and rolled on his back, arm behind his head. "Oh, honestly. It was just a bad dream. I've half-forgotten it."

"Well, tell me what it was before you forget the whole thing."

Nigel sighed. "I don't know what it was. It's hard to describe and when I tell you, it's going to sound ridiculous."

David flipped over on his stomach and reached out to touch Nigel's shoulder. "I'm not going to judge your dream, you know. Or whether it should have made you cry or not. Shit, you could tell me you dreamed that you were five and dropped your ice cream cone and I'd understand."

He heard a snicker in the darkness, then abrupt solemn silence.

After a beat: "I was in a house, and there was a tornado outside. I could see it approaching, and it was so black. Just a huge swirling tornado coming towards the house. For some reason I thought I could outrun it if I could just get outside.

"But there was someone trapped in the house. He was locked in one of the rooms and I couldn't get to him. I must have tried all the doors. There were... there were so many doors."

His hand fell over his eyes again and his breath hitched a little.

"I could hear him. The roof was coming off the house, the windows were blown out. I needed to get outside, so I could run. But I didn't want to leave without him. I couldn't leave without him.

"Then the tornado was all around us and I couldn't see anything. I knew things were flying by my ears, and I was just so convinced that something would hit me and I wouldn't see it coming. I held my arm up – like that would have done me much good – and hoped that whatever collided with me would just hit my arm first.

"And then the tornado passed. I looked around and the house was completely flattened. Like those cartoons where there's nothing but wooden boards. There was nothing left.

"I... I started digging through the boards. I had to get him out, wherever he was. But I couldn't hear him anymore. And the more I searched for him, the more frantic I got.

"And that's when you woke me up."

David almost dreaded asking. "Who were you looking for?"

Nigel rubbed his face and said, muffled through his fingers: "Arthur."

The wind blew against the house, whistling between the shutters. David pressed his lean body closer to Nigel's, trying to transfer reassurance into him in place of words. Nigel knew it was just a dream, knew that Arthur was just fine, and anything David could come up with would just sound condescending. Luckily, Nigel spoke first.

"I don't put much stock in dreams. And it doesn't take a psychologist to dissect this one. I put Arthur in an awful situation that I can't do anything about."

"First of all, share some of that blame." David gave him a little shake for emphasis. "Second, you did everything you could to not involve him in this. If I can make my own interpretation from your nightmare: It's easy to say it was about Arthur being trapped and you helplessly trying to free him. But the tornado is the cause of that – not you. You just want to save him."

Nigel considered this. "By that logic, what would the tornado represent?"

"Just chaos. Unpredictability." A light bulb went on in his head. "I think you dreamed about love. The love you feel for him. You want to protect him from everything you can't control."

"Does that… do you have dreams like that?"

David absentmindedly kissed Nigel's shoulder, something he found surprisingly adorable. "Oh, absolutely. I dream the kids get lost at the mall. I dream that they're not in their beds in the morning. That they don't come home from school. It's awful. Sometimes I have to peek into their rooms to make sure they're still okay." He smiled a little. "It's your first 'parent' nightmare. Congratulations. They will never go away."

The week passed slowly. David promised Nigel that he would wait for him at his house after his talk with Arthur, knowing that his son would probably want to walk home alone. He finally saw his small car pull into the driveway, metal winking under the setting sun.

As Nigel got out, he was struck by the parallel of his lover waiting for him with a book in one hand and a thermos in the other. This time, he was the one waking up in the hospital.

David tried to be cheerful and not pry, though he was dying to know how it went. Nigel kissed him briefly and sat down next to him. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"It's a beautiful night, I didn't mind."

Nigel exhaled and addressed the elephant in the room. "I should probably tell you – "

" – don't." David's interruption was a surprise to them both. "You don't need to tell me anything. I just want to know if you're okay. Both of you."

Nigel rested his head against David's shoulder. He was wearing a soft blue sweater, and it felt soothing against his cheek. Although the days were warming up, the nights still carried a chill. "It's a long road ahead. I don't know if I can ever mend things completely. But your son is very special."

David put an arm around him. There was nothing else to say, except: "I love you."

"And I love you."

As they watched the sunset together, David was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of relief. His 40s felt like a wonderful bridge ahead of him.

The End.

Author's Note: Here we are, wrapping up Saudade. For everyone who stuck it out for the past nine years – thank you for all your support. I would love to write a steamy sequel, just need to find an idea that fits with these two (feel free to suggest one!) But in the meantime, they can finally enjoy their happy life together.