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He has to cut him off.
Of course he does. But how? It wasn’t a question of his heart breaking, (of course his heart was breaking) but of the simple logistics of the thing. His feelings for Ed were like an addiction, but not to any drug. A drug you can exorcise from your life entirely.
No, his desire for Ed was more like an eating disorder. You can’t cut food out of your life entirely; you have to learn how to be around it, how to work with it, how to see it every day and enjoy it and appreciate it without wanting it too much. All the wanting. How do you stop the wanting when you can have the having but only the tiniest bit? When you are expected to have, in fact required to have - to have and to look like you want to have - but not for real, turn off the look, turn off the want with the simple word “cut!” How do you have, without exposing the need for more?
A relationship disorder, that’s what Stede had. Out of balance. In need of a readjustment. He didn’t need to cut Ed out of his life - just needed to find a new way to relate to him. Which was basically the old way of relating. Kind of. But is there ever any way of going back? (There is no way of going back.)
Another universe, 20 feet to the left. Similar but different. (Four doors down from this one.)
He knew he would have to talk to Mary. He knew when he kissed Ed in the parking lot. He knew when he tucked Ed in on the couch. He knew when he said, “please, don’t do this to me” in the kitchen. He knew when Ed said, “think it might be a bit late for that.”
He knew now, sitting on his own bed, fresh from the shower, all traces of the past 24 hours cleansed from his external body. But he could never wash Ed from inside of him. How can you brainwash a heart? (There is no way to brainwash a heart.)
He had no illusions she would take it well. Ed said they made her more forgiving in the stories - that Rhys’ wife didn’t mind, or didn’t exist. But Mary very much existed. And she would very much mind.(Whether or not she would be surprised was a question did not permit himself to ponder.)
Face in his hands, he cried again. He had cried many times in the last few weeks; cried for himself: grieving for all that he couldn’t have; cried for Ed: sorry for stringing him along. But this was the first time he cried for Mary. No one would envy her position. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to any of them. But ultimately this was his mess and he would need to find a way to clean it up.
The phone rang in his hand, waiting for Mary to pick up. He switched it to speaker and dropped it on the bed, desperate to get some distance.
“Hey, babe,” his wife greeted him, her voice distracted, “I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”
“I’m sorry darling, I’ve been - I was out. I left my phone at home. By accident.”
“Stede, are you alright?” Her tone had changed. He could tell he now had her full attention. (Would she be surprised? Maybe she already knew. If she already knew, did he have to say it? He had to say it.)
He took a deep breath and hoped she couldn’t hear how desperately he needed it.
“I was out with Ed.” That was a normal thing. Normal enough. “At Ed’s,” he clarified. (Maybe if he made it obvious, he wouldn’t have to say it. No, that’s not fair. None of this was fair.)
Mary took a deep breath. He could hear it.
“How’s Ed doing?” Her voice was almost normal. (God, he wished he had more to go on than just the sound of her voice. God, he was glad he only had to face her voice. Coward.)
“Um, not great, at the moment, I think.”
“Stede, what’s going on?” Exasperation.
“Mary, I’ve done someth- I let something hap-“ deep breath “I’ve made some choices. That I think you should, deserve to know about.
“What the fuck, Stede?” Quiet. Resigned.
“I, um, we kissed. I mean, not at work. In private. For-“
“I get it, Stede!” Of course. (That was too many words. Always too much. And also, not enough words. Never enough.)
“And we, slepttogether.”
“Christ, Stede, I told you to be careful.” Her voice was muffled, like she had her face in her hands.
“I know, but I just- I was! Trying to be. I’m sorry, Mary.” (Don’t cry. She deserves for you to not be crying right now.) “I’m so, so sorry.”
Another breath.
“How are you holding up?”
“What?” He shouldn’t have said ‘what’ but what else could he say?
“I know you, Stede. You must be an absolute mess right now.” Matter of fact. And not wrong but…
“I’m okay,” he lied. “I don’t think you want to hear about all that.” He admitted quietly.
“I certainly don’t! But I can’t have you falling apart by yourself, halfway across the world.”
He didn’t know what to make of that.
“What happened?” she asked. He could tell she wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.
“I don’t- how much do you want to know?” Now he was feeling exhausted. Raw. Vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. (He should have expected it.)
“I don’t know, just…” she sighed.
“It’s been difficult.“ He could admit that much.
“All the Rhys and Taika stuff, it’s just been, rather confusing. Heavy. In a way that I could not quite prepare for.”
“You let it get to your head.” She said it coldly and he couldn’t begrudge her the tone.
A breath.
“Little bit, perhaps.”
“So, what, Rhys and Taika kissed on set and you both couldn’t help yourselves after that? We’re you still at work? Shit, does Denkins know??” Oh, that’s what she was doing. She’d stepped out of wife role and into manager role. Well, that’s one way to handle it. For now.
“Denkins doesn’t know.” He felt like garbage. Like a little child that had to be minded so they didn’t hurt themselves and mess everything up for everyone.
“Okay, well that’s one crisis averted,” she said, sounding like she was checking items of a list. “Ugh, I can’t believe I have to ask this, but did you at least use protection? We all know Ed is a bit of a slut.”
That stung.
“Of course we did. It wasn’t just some mindless hook up.” Fuck. That made it worse, didn’t it? (It did.)
“Oh great! I’m glad you guys put so much thought into it!” She was yelling now.
“I’m just saying!” He was yelling too. “I don’t know what I’m saying!”
“Clearly!”
“Arguhhhh!”
“I think I need a minute. Stede, I’m putting you on hold. Do not hang up on me.”
“Okay, of course, whatever you need. I’ll be here.”
The line went silent but the call time continued to flick through the seconds. What was he going to do? He didn’t want to lose her. She was being so reasonable. How could he ever explain? He didn’t even understand it himself.
The minutes ticked by and his thoughts drifted to the timeless quality of the rainstorm earlier. Had it really been the same day? Was it only just this morning that he hoped the rain would never end? And now here he was wishing it had never begun.
Of course, it didn’t start with the rain. It didn’t even start with Rhys and Taika. But he couldn’t tell her that. How does a 48 year old man tell his wife of 20 years that he just figured out he’s some kind of queer because he played a gay pirate on tv and realized he’s been in love with his best friend pretty much the entirety of said marriage?
Maybe it wouldn’t come up.
Noise resumed on the other end of the line.
“Stede. Rhys and Taika are in love. I’m going to ask you this one time: are you in love with Ed?”
Every molecule of air immediately vacated his lungs as the tears once again sprung to his eyes.
He wanted to say ‘no.’ He wanted to say ‘I’m in love with you.’ He wanted to say ‘how could you ask me that?’ But what he said was:
“Yes.”
Mary said: “fuck.”
“But I’m still in love with you-“
“Shut up, Stede. Is Ed in love with you?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Are you… are you leaving me?”
“No! No, Mary, I’ll do anything to make it right. I don’t want to be apart from you. Shit, I hate being away from you.” He was definitely crying now. Couldn’t hide it. Forgot to try to.
“Stop it. Stop crying.” Her voice softened. “There’ll be time for that later. Right now we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Can I… come home?”
“Right now? Are you quitting the show?”
Oh, right. The show.
“Do you want me to?”
A big exhale.
“That’s a lot of responsibility. It can’t be up to me.”
“If I quit, could I come home?”
“Stede, you fucking idiot. You can come home either way.”
“Are you sure? I mean, how are you?? I, I very much messed up and you shouldn’t have to-“
“I’m livid. I’m disappointed. I’m embarrassed. I’m so, so scared.” Her voice was shaking now. “Honestly? I wish I could say I’m surprised.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to.”
“To sleep with him?”
“To fall in love.”
A sharp inhale from the other side of the line.
Pitiful. He really was a stupid, spoiled, privileged little boy. Sitting alone, feeling sorry for himself that he lacked the self control to refrain from obliterating his two deepest relationships in the same day.
“You know that’s not why I’m mad at you, right?” Her voice was soft, like a mother’s. “I could never be mad at you for caring for people. It’s who you are. I’ve known for a very long time that you loved him. I just, I just- I’m monogamous Stede. We have a family. I can’t, I can’t have him jeopardizing what we took two decades to build.”
She- she knew?! Fucking hell, why didn’t she tell him??
“I- um, I understand. Thank you.”
“I am hurt that you shared yourself that way with someone other than me. I’m sorry if I’m not like other Hollywood wives. I’m sorry that I feel jealousy or that I’m not cool with the open relationship thing. I don’t-“
“Mary, it’s okay. I could never ask that of you.”
“Then, why? Why Stede? Why did you have to go and make it physical?”
“I don’t know, Mary! Clearly I’m not as monogamous, or as straight, as I once assumed!” He was shouting. It felt terrible. But also, somehow righteous. Liberating to finally say it, even if it was roundabout in the worst way.
A pause.
A giggle.
A laugh.
“What the fuck, Mary?” He was bewildered.
“Stede-“ She was trying to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry.” She stoped laughing. Cough. “My dear, you, you assumed you were straight?? When?”
“Till about a week ago!” This was not funny. He giggled. (It was a little funny.) He snorted. “It’s not funny!” He failed to convince himself of this fact.
They were both laughing now and the tears resumed their fall and something broke open inside and it was the least painful of all the broken things.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he squeaked. “You know I need these things spelt out for me!” He was ridiculous. He had always been ridiculous. And Mary had always loved him. And so had Ed.
It was going to be okay. Somehow. It was going to be painful and confusing and it might break him open a thousand times, but he was going to be okay.
“I’m still mad at him,” Mary said, trying to make her voice serious. “Tell him next time he sees me, he better say ‘thank you’ for sharing your glorious dick with him, even just once.”
“I am never telling him that.”
“And love,” she was serious now, “please. It can’t happen again.”
“I know. I promise.”
“You can talk to me about these things. If it’s too weird, I’ll tell you. But I understand you’re going through the shit right now. You don’t have to be alone.”
“I love you, Mary.”
“I love you too, Stede.” He believed her. “Go to sleep; you probably look like shit.”
“I do in fact look like shit, I’m certain if it.”
“Good night, babe.”
“Good night, darling.”
And for a little while, he felt okay. Wrung out and raw. He fell asleep remembering her voice in his ear, her touch on his skin, wishing she was there in bed with him, instead of alone in her own bed on the other side of the globe.
He woke up hours later, out of a dream, sweating. The touch of a beard against his cheek. The sight of tattooed hands running across his thigh. The taste of his best friend in his mouth.
And alone in the dark he wept.
It was going to be okay. One day. But not today.