2. Slow Your Roll
(Hen)
"And just what are we hoping to accomplish this evening?" Karen asked as she worked setting the table for three in the adjacent room. With luck they'd pawned Denny off on her mom leaving them open for a night of adult discussion and all the nitty gritty that came along with it.
Hen put the finishing touches on her family's jerk chicken, her stomach growling with anticipation. A salad sat in a bowl already on the table along with a small loaf of bread Karen grabbed at the market on her way home. Mashed potatoes, steam rising from them, waited to make their way to the table. The wine was chilling in the fridge, though she had a bottle of tequila stashed in the wings. A memory flash of a previous drunken heartfelt talk with Buck brought a momentarily smile to her face. His arrival on her doorstep that day turned out to be a welcome distraction.
"To get Buck to unload before he explodes."
"Here I thought he always went to Bobby for such things."
"Normally, yes. Eddie, too. But in this case who else is going to understand where he's coming from and what he's struggling with?"
Karen appeared in the entryway to the kitchen. "Really, you think he's stuck on the kiss with Tommy?"
"What else?"
"It's Buck. It could be a million other things."
"True, but if it was one of those million other things he'd have talked with Bobby." She picked up the dish of chicken while Karen grabbed the bowl of mashed potatoes. "Nah, I'm putting all my money on the kiss." She placed the chicken in the center of the table. With one hand on the back of a chair she met her wife's gaze. "Was it easy for you?"
"What, coming out?"
"Well, yeah."
Karen gave her a knowing look, her head slightly tilted. "You tell me, Henrietta Wilson, was it easy coming out as black lesbian?"
"Touché."
"Do you think this will do him any good?"
Hen shrugged. "There's only one way to find out. If all else fails, we'll at least get him drunk. Last time I did that he sang like a canary."
"About being asked to be a sperm donor." Karen fidgeted with a napkin. "Buck certainly has his fair share of adventures."
The wistful expression on her face spurred Hen into action. She rounded the table and slipped her arms around her wife's waist. They'd gone down this road once before, back when Karen got it in her mind she was getting old and wanted to stay young, hip. It resulted in an adventure of their own, including a broken into car and the retrieval of a stolen ID.
All of which Hen reminded her. "Also, let me point out some of Buck's adventures include finding his sister battered, coughing up blood, watching his best friend get shot, being swept up in a tsunami and thinking he lost Christopher, and becoming a lightning rod."
"When you put it that way…"
The doorbell chimed.
"Alright. Let's help Buck out."
Hen gave Karen a quick peck on the lips, then headed for the door. What she failed to reveal to her lovely wife, the woman she was blessed to still call her wife after everything she'd done, was that a hint of misgiving lingered. Giving out sage advice to her friends came naturally, especially in relation to Chimney, and she tended to be honest to a fault, even going so far as to question whether her best friend should marry the woman he loved, but Buck? Despite their drunken talk of sperm donation she worried if anything said tonight would truly help.
Perhaps he might be better off finding his own way. This is Buck, after all. Our words might go in one ear and out the other. Buck does what Buck wants to do.
XxXxXxX
(Buck)
Buck bounced lightly on the balls of his feet on Hen's front porch. On the way over, for the briefest of moments, here and gone with a breath, he considered skipping out on the invitation. Did he really want to have a heart to heart with Hen and Karen? The answer was a resounding yes, a silent scream echoing in the confines of his skull, but not about being bisexual. He'd done his stewing, questioning his sexual identity, and decided absolutely nothing about who he was, straight down to his core, had changed. At least, not significantly.
He remained always Evan Buckley.
And he yearned to tell someone his next move.
In true Buck fashion he planned on going after what he wanted.
"Come in," Hen said, stepping aside to let him pass.
Buck held up a bottle of wine. "Maddie always told me it's rude to accept a dinner invitation without bringing a gift."
"Ooo, the more the merrier."
"Hi Karen." Why am I acting like an awkward teenager here to pickup their daughter for a date? It's just Hen and Karen. They're family. They shared a hug. "Thank you for having me. Something smells delicious."
"Jerk chicken. Hope you brought your appetite. Sit, sit. I'll be right back." Hen disappeared into the kitchen.
"You guys and Cap, you're the best cooks amongst us."
"Don't let Chimney hear you say that," Hen said, returning with the wine she'd chilled earlier. She poured a little in glasses for each of them. "Besides, aren't you always trying to replicate Bobby's recipes?"
"Even following his instructions they fall short, almost as if he's holding back an ingredient."
"Would he do that?" Karen asked, scooping up salad.
Doing as told, Buck took the solitary spot, situating himself to face the two women. An interrogation of sorts. Let them have a go at me. Whatever Hen has to say I'm willing to hear her out. She's the one with experience in this department. Plus, look at her and Karen, how happy they are together, the life they've built.
"I'm jealous," he said, blurting out the words.
The two women stopped, staring at him.
"Come again?" Hen asked.
How did the old saying go? In for a penny, in for a pound, or something along those lines? Wiping his hands on his jeans, he gave a firm nod. "Yeah, I guess it's true. I'm a bit jealous of you guys. Same with Bobby and Athena, and Maddie and Chim. Is there a secret I don't know?"
"A good relationship takes a lot of work, Buck," said Hen.
"And a healthy dose of forgiveness," added Karen. "Take us. I easily could have walked away, I even did once, in fact, but came back thanks to Howie. However, I listened to my heart and it told me to stay, to give Hen another chance. She showed me she was willing to put in the work, therefore, so was I."
Buck swallowed a mouthful of chicken, savoring how the spices tantalized his tastebuds. "That's how I did things with Abby."
Hen picked up her wineglass, swirling the pinkish liquid inside. She appeared to be mulling over what she wanted to say next, choosing her words carefully. "You were an escape for her, Buck, and the sooner you realize it, the better."
"An escape?" the words came out barely more than a whisper.
"The nine-one-one center and her mom, they took up the bulk of her life," Hen went on to explain. "Along comes Buck, a distraction, a new outlet-"
Karen placed a hand on her wife's arm effectively cutting her off. "I think what she's trying to say is you showed Abby how to live again."
"I… guess."
He toyed with his chicken, shoving half a piece in his mouth. Were they right, was his presence in Abby's life merely a distraction, a way for her to find something, anything, outside work and her mom? Does it matter anymore? We were a thing years ago. She's moved on. So have I. Regardless, he considered his time with Abby to be a turning point in his life. Between their mutual admiration for one another, and the guiding light of Bobby, he stopped his wandering, horn-dog, crazy ways and became a new Buck. Buck 2.0, as he'd go e around calling himself. What would that make him now, after everything else? Buck 5.0 or something?
"I'm sorry, Buck," Hen interrupted his thoughts, "if what I say is in any way hurtful. You know I only aim to help and some conversations are-"
"Tough love," he finished, surprising both of them. "I get it." Taking the wineglass by the stem, he gulped down the offered liquid courage, then set the glass back by his plate, keeping hold of it. For what he wanted to say next, Buck kept his eyes averted, harkening back to all the talks he had with himself in his car going to and from work, in the shower, and sometimes even during commercials while spending a few mindless hours in front of the television. "Look, I know why you asked me here, and I truly appreciate the gesture. Believe me, I do. But the kiss with Tommy, my embracing of my bisexuality, aren't what's plaguing me lately."
"Oh?"
Buck glanced up in time to see the two exchange a look. He knew that look. The one often adorning the faces of his parents, or Maddie, and unpleasantly enough, occasionally worn by Bobby. It balanced precariously between the fringes of disappointment and here-we-go-again, Buck's about to Buck.
He sucked in his bottom, grazing it with his teeth as he let it slide back out. The energy from the storm brewing in his brain transferred to his leg, the bounce of his knee keeping tempo with the hurricane of thoughts, and at the eye was the one thing, the one pearl of truth he'd yet to speak aloud even to himself. He needed to say it, to free the truth before it consumed him.
"Buck?"
The delicate stem of the wineglass broke and he yanked his hand away, faintly aware of the blood lacing his fingertips.
"What the-"
Buck finally met Hen's gaze. "I love Eddie.