The Imperfection of Swans (16 page)

Kevin took another bite of the gnocchi. “Not here. Massachusetts was the first state to accept gay marriage.”

“So why the divorce?”

Man, Casper wasn’t holding anything back. Kevin wasn’t sure if it was the martinis or just part of being business partners. It wasn’t like it would do any good to sugarcoat things. With as much as Casper was going to be around Kevin’s family, he’d find out anyway. “He cheated. The divorce was his idea.”

“Shut up! That’s just stupid. There’s no way that could be true.”

Kevin blanched. “What?”

Casper motioned up and down Kevin’s body with his fork, ending with a swirling motion around Kevin’s face. “Who the hell could cheat on you? That doesn’t make sense. You’re fucking gorgeous. He must be a fucking idiot.” Casper stuck his fork into his pasta, then glanced back over as an afterthought. “No offense, of course. Seeing as you’re getting back together with him.”

Kevin couldn’t help but grin at Casper’s reaction. He really was a sweet man. The next bite of gnocchi tasted even better than the first.

“You can do better.” Casper spoke with his mouth full, and a little sauce flew out and landed on the bar top.

“You’ve never met him.”

“Blah!” Another fork wave. “Don’t need to. He’s stupid enough to cheat on you. You can do better.”

THE NEXT
ten minutes passed in relative silence. Not uncomfortable, just fairly easy comradery and good food. After taking the last bite, Kevin glanced at his watch again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

“You did it again.”

Kevin had already slid off the stool and had to turn back to face Casper. “Excuse me?”

“Your watch. You looked at your watch.”

“Huh.” Kevin felt his cheeks flush. “Didn’t even notice.” He was tempted to hop back up on his seat and try again in a little bit, but he’d nearly waited too long as it was.

The restroom was only a few feet away. Too close for Kevin’s liking, but the place was noisy enough.

He was going to have to be more careful around Casper. Or find a better way to keep time. Maybe set a timer on his phone.

No. That would be even more obvious.

Kevin stepped into the burnt orange restroom and shut the door, making sure to lock it.

He turned on both of the sink’s handles, enough so the stream of water created more noise, but not enough to cause an overflow.

Pulling some paper towels out of the dispenser, he placed them on the floor in front of the toilet and stuffed another two in the collar of his shirt.

He was glad to see they had handicap rails on two sides of the toilet. Sometimes that made things easier.

Slipping off his shoes so the toes wouldn’t scuff, Kevin knelt down in front of the toilet.

He placed his left hand on the toilet tank, bent over slightly, opened his mouth, and placed his right index and middle fingers on the inside of his throat.

As soon as Kevin applied pressure to the side of his esophagus, he gagged.

Nothing.

He shoved his fingers in a little deeper and pressed harder.

He gagged again. Still nothing.

Pure panic tore through him. He knew he’d waited too long. If only he hadn’t decided to eat the whole bowl.

Shouldn’t have messed with the paper towels.

He tried again. More gagging.

Maybe he’d not downed enough water while he was eating.

One of the tiles at the base of the toilet had a crack in it.

Come on. Come on.

More gagging.

He was tempted to try a third finger. But that never helped, and it hurt more later.

For fuck’s sake, come on!

Removing his fingers, Kevin sat up slightly and took a deep breath.

From the mirror, he could see the reflection of black-and-white photographs in dark frames. He narrowed his eyes. They were all Boston brownstones.

Another deep breath. He held it and then tried once more, shoving in both his fingers, applying pressure, and leaning forward in a heaving motion over the toilet.

It worked.

Another gag, and then his stomach cramped.

Then he was retching.

The relief was so great that he nearly began to sob.

Another quick intake of breath.

The smell of the toilet and vomit helped his fingers with their job, and he began to heave once more.

Kevin only threw up a couple more times, but it was enough. His stomach was empty.

He started to stand, only to have his body convulse in a dry heave.

God he hated those.

Small price to pay for not being too late, though.

When he was sure it was over, he stood back up, slipped on his shoes, swiped up the paper towels and tossed them into the trash, and flushed the toilet.

Kevin moved to the sink, turned off the hot water handle, and took a drink. He swished the water around in his mouth and spat it out, then repeated the actions a couple of times. Then he filled his hands and splashed water over his face. After retrieving a paper towel, he tapped his face dry.

Ah. Better.

He looked in the mirror and smiled. He was okay. He hadn’t waited too long. He checked his watch. Five minutes. Not bad.

Kevin straightened his shoulders and moved to unlock the door before he looked at the rest of his reflection.
Oh for fuck’s sake!
He ripped the paper towels out of his collar. How had he nearly forgotten those?

Moron.

One last check of his appearance and he stepped out of the bathroom. Within a couple of steps, he was back with Casper and hopped up into his seat.

“Would you like dessert?” Casper held up the dessert menu.

“No! I’m completely stuffed.” Kevin patted his stomach. “But you can have some.”

Casper considered. “I’ll get one to go and pay.”

“No, Casper, let me get it. It’s the least I can do to thank you for pushing me to do the exposed brick. It’s going to look really great once it’s done.”

“Nope. Nothing doing. I said I was getting dinner.” He waved the server over and gave her his dessert order and his credit card. When she left, he returned his attention to Kevin. “I’m not drunk or anything, but I might be too buzzed to drive.”

Kevin chuckled. There really was something cute about Casper. “I drove.”

“You did?” He seemed to think back. “Oh, right. Well, would you mind dropping me off at the brownstone, then, before you head home?”

“I’d hate for you to drive your car from there. You won’t be sobered up in that short amount of time.”

Casper’s cheeks reddened.

Kevin enjoyed the sight for a few moments and then decided to be nice. “It’s okay. I know you’re staying up in the apartment.”

“Oh.” Casper’s expression grew serious. “Do you mind?”

“No, but you’re a braver man than I am. It might be clean, but I still wouldn’t be staying up there. I would like to know why, though. I sense a story.”

Casper snorted. “I was nearly put in jail for roommate homicide.” He leaned closer to Kevin, his expression growing concerned. “Hey, your eyes are all bloodshot again.”

KEVIN

RENATA BANGED
around in the kitchen. Each cabinet door she closed seemed to have offended her somehow. She stirred the sautéing carrots, onions, and celery hard enough so it sounded like she was denting the pan, still not making a mess, but definitely making a ruckus. With each task, she let out an irritated sigh or lamenting groan.

“For God’s sake, Mom, if it’s this much of a struggle, let’s just order in tomorrow.” Kevin let out a frustrated sigh of his own.

“Watch your mouth, young man.” Renata looked at him, the banging of the wooden spoon against the large pan increasing. “As if we would ever order in for Sunday dinner.”

“Then let’s wait and cook it tomorrow. Noelle will be here. We can cook together like a family.”

A skeptical grunt.

Don’t take the bait. You know better. Just keep your stupid mouth shut.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

This time she stopped stirring and focused fully on him. “Like a family. Like you know what that means. You moved in weeks ago, and it’s like you’re never here.”

“Mom! We are together every day. If not here, then at least at the brownstone. Hell, most of the time both places.” Lord, he wished Noelle didn’t have a client. If she were here, this wouldn’t get as big as he could feel it growing.

“Watch your language! And if we’re together so much, where were you last night? I doubt you worked all night at the shop.” He thought she was done, but then her features twisted further in disgust. “And will you even be here tonight?”

His cheeks heated. “No. Not tonight.”

“I assume you’ll be with that… man.”

Dammit. Not even his pills would help him get calm at this point. “No, Mom, I’m going to a bathhouse. I got discount family passes. Wanna join?”

To her credit, Renata didn’t even flinch. “I wish that were true. Better than what you’re actually doing.”

“Gross. Seriously? You’d rather me be at a bathhouse? Can you imagine how filthy those things probably are!” His stomach churned at the thought.

“Not as filthy as what’s-his-name.”

“Good one, Mom.” Kevin placed his hand on the counter for support, accidentally squishing a newly rolled meatball. “And you’re really going to pretend to not know your son-in-law’s name?”

“Ex!” This time some of the carrot mixture did find its way out of the pan. She didn’t even notice.

Kevin moved over to the sink and rinsed off the raw beef and pork mixture. He managed not to say anything else.

The cooking continued, with steam rising from the simmering food and from their seething.

The silence went on so long, Kevin started to think that maybe they were out of the woods. That they could finish up the prep and then let it go and move on, like they always did.

Renata’s voice was little more than vapor when she finally spoke again. “I’d at least think you’d be more committed to the shop, instead of playing house with that fool.”

Kevin looked up slowly from where he was drying dishes. His voice matched his mother’s tone and simmering fury. “What did you say?”

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes, but not backing down. “Well, it’s not like your family hasn’t shown its faith in you, and you have all our futures riding on it. Even Noelle’s salon, and your aunts—”

Kevin didn’t hear the rest.

He was at the front door before he realized he still had the dish towel in his hand. He tossed it behind him, not caring where it landed, and stormed out the door. He ignored the door slam, his mom calling from inside the house, and his own labored breathing.

HE ONLY
did half an hour of weights before jumping on the treadmill. He’d waited until the blonde woman who seemed to live at the gym had moved out of the cardio section. She was the last thing his nerves needed.

Kevin selected his Broadway playlist from his iPad and put the cardio equipment at the next to highest level.

With Idina Menzel’s voice defying gravity in his ears, Kevin ran. Sweat poured down his body. Stinging his eyes. Making the rotating running surface slick. Making him feel clean and gross all at the same time.

He watched his reflection in the wall of mirrors as he ran.

God he was disgusting. His skin slick and shiny, jiggling with each pound of his feet.

He lifted his shirt slightly and grimaced. He could barely see the outline of his six-pack in the reflection. With his free thumb and index finger he pinched the skin of his stomach. The first attempt he caught nothing. Then, trying again, he was able to pull a fold of skin away from his body.

Disgusting.

Fat and disgusting. And gross.

He thought back to the gnocchi from a few nights ago. He must not have made it in time after all.

He reached up toward the controls and slipped on the sweat-slicked surface. He managed to catch himself with little more than a stumble. Once back in his stride, he thumbed the control, moving it up to its highest level.

A text chimed through his earphones. Still running, he retrieved the phone from the cup holder and swiped the screen.

He was too sweaty for his finger to do anything. He started to wipe the phone on his tank top, but it was drenched. Leaning his forearms against the control panel of the treadmill, he managed to run and at the same time wipe his phone and finger dry with a paper towel he’d stuffed into the cup holder.

He swiped again.

Mom.

I’m sorry I said that about the brownstone. I was angry. I know you’re working hard. We all do. We know you’re going to make this work. You’ll have the most beautiful wedding dress shop in Boston!

Kevin dropped the phone back into the cup holder and hit the controls of the treadmill once more.

Oh, right. He was already at top speed.

His reflection glistened at him from the mirror. Ugh.

One more hour.

Maybe more.

KEVIN PAUSED
outside the brownstone and turned to look up at Scott. Seriously, who looked that good in a parka? “I’d really rather wait for you to see it once it’s all done.”