Archive of Our Own ^beta

***

One day into Eddie dealing with his son being gone, not much happens. The realization of the events from the day before hasn’t settled in yet, so Eddie doesn’t cry, he doesn’t bargain. He makes himself breakfast, though. He eats his toast slightly burnt, drinks his coffee black, and tries not to pay attention to his subconscious torturing him when he realizes he has prepared breakfast for one too many people. He shaves, washes his face, brushes his hair, and gets dressed without stopping to think or to feel.  

Two days into Eddie dealing with Christopher being away, he repeats the same routine and tries to focus on work, saving others instead of himself from his unfortunate life situation. Classic Eddie Diaz – healing everyone but himself. He helps people on calls, refills everyone’s coffee during lunch at the station, follows Gerrard’s orders, and doesn’t once complain about lavatory duty. He thinks about Chris, but luckily the alarm goes off before he can overthink Chris. He still doesn’t cry, but his eyes go suspiciously watery once or twice when he attends to a teenage boy with a broken leg on their last call of the shift. The boy has curly hair and is wearing glasses and Eddie’s eyes go traitorously wet and stingy when he looks one second too long at the boy. So, he blinks, takes a shaky breath that feels more like a series of little broken ones and gets to work.

Three days into Eddie coping with Chris not being around, he starts losing it. The third time might be a charm, but the third day is most definitely a torture. He might not be alone in his house after all because the deafening silence of the house lets itself be bluntly noticed by suffocating Eddie with its presence. He completely loses it looking at the Lucky Charms box in the upper cabinet of his kitchen. The name on the package reminds him too much of his son and he thinks he’s going insane. He picks up the half-empty carton box and stares at the big golden letters. 

He must be going insane because why is he losing it over a box of cereal? He has to be going insane. 

This is it. He thinks. It only took three days and I already need to be institutionalized.

That’s not a bad idea. He hears a clear thought cutting through the distortions gnawing his mind. Not getting institutionalized per se, but getting his mental health in check. 

He thinks that getting help, no matter how much he dislikes the prospect, is the best idea he’s gotten in a while. 

If I’m already losing it now, I’m not sure where I’ll be in a week.

This gets him to go against everything his comfort zone is. He begrudgingly schedules an appointment with Frank in two days and tries his best not to make an even bigger fool of himself by stressing out over the ordeal of having to let words come out of his mouth.

He is far from excited to go back to seeing a shrink. 

But if he wants to show Chris it’s safe for him to come home, he can’t afford to lose his mind over something as minuscule as breakfast.

                                                  ***

His first resumed therapy session with Frank is mostly quiet. He spends the first few minutes just sitting in silence, half trying to come up with something to say that isn’t his most recent parental failure or his latest breakdown over a box of cereal, half trying to avoid saying much at all. Frank told him first things first into their work together that Eddie was supposed to be the one to open the session with whatever it was that he needed to work on in those 50 minutes they had. This time Frank is the one to break the silence. 

“Eddie, if all you need today is for me to share the silence with you, it can be arranged. It appears to me that something is bothering you. If you’re not ready to share, I won’t push. However, I want to encourage you to share what you feel and where you feel it in your body.” 

Eddie only nods. He’s had sessions with Frank before, it’s not like this experience is a novelty to him, but he simply has no idea how to begin telling his therapist about what brings him in here today. How does one start a conversation about having an emotional affair with your dead wife’s lookalike behind your son and girlfriend’s backs, that said lookalike dying and cutting her hair to look even more like your dead wife, essentially cosplaying her, her inviting herself to your home to have some kind of therapeutic closure roleplay moment, your son and girlfriend walking in on you two in your living room, your son for a second believing his mom came back from the dead before getting mad at you and leaving to go live with his grandparents in your hometown?

Actually, he thinks, maybe that’s exactly how one starts that conversation.

“I had an emotional affair with my dead wife’s lookalike behind my son and girlfriend’s backs. That said lookalike dyed and cut her hair to look even more like my wife, essentially cosplaying her. She invited herself to my home to have some kind of therapeutic closure roleplay moment. My son and now ex-girlfriend walked in on us in my living room. My son for a second believed his mom came back from the dead. And got mad at me and left to go live with his grandparents in our hometown.”

He says it all in one breath, words flying out of his mouth like flies off a dead carcass. He feels his eyes sting. No, not yet, c’mon. Not in the first session.

He notices Frank flinching back a little. Eddie’s willing to bet the man is already considering raising the price for their session or saying he can’t help Eddie after all. He thinks Frank will tell him to go fuck himself, wonders if he ethically can. He expects Frank will tell him he’s broken beyond repair.

He’s afraid Frank will tell him there’s no cure for being Eddie Diaz.

But all he gets in response is “Let’s unpack that.”

                                                   ***

They do. They begin unpacking the industrial bag of emotional deadweight Eddie had brought into therapy in those sessions that follow, occasionally switching to things from his daily life he needs to talk about. By ‘needs’, he means he feels like he has to, otherwise instead of breaking down every part of the multilayered issue that is his life lately, he will be the one breaking down every time he enters Frank’s office. 

Which would be counterproductive since that’s what got him here in the first place. 

He is resistant at first, holding back until it all falls having been his default coping mechanism since before he can remember — no luck on the whole counterproductive part. And even when he opens up he uses as few words as possible to get through their weekly fifty minutes together on the fuck off basis.

 They briefly talk about his relationship with Marisol and Kim, about Christopher, about having had to deal with Helena and Ramon trying to take him away the first time when Chris was still small, and the time they finally did last month, as Eddie tries to understand why they claim to care but refuse to listen. 

The topics of patterns, beliefs, and coping mechanisms come up here and there, tinted with the implications of having to express feelings and talk about the past. 

Eddie is reluctant. 

Unfortunately, what they say about therapists is true — they always find a way to get you talking. 

So by week three of his self-mandated therapy, he finally starts letting more than ten minutes worth of talking come out of his system. 

He still wishes, however, in the moments between short speeches, that Frank would stop spoonfeeding him the ‘ I understand’, ‘It must have been hard for you’, ‘I sympathize with you here’, and the ‘ You had all the right to feel that way’. Because no, he didn’t. He wishes Frank would yell at him, call him a pathetic excuse of a person, and give him a reality check. It drives Eddie mad.

He despises Frank and feels grateful for his therapist’s endless reservoir of patience all the same.

                                                   ***

By the time Frank suggests that Eddie get a camera to capture things he can’t express with words, Chris has been gone for 29 days. Not that Eddie’s counting. (Totally not counting every day, not even every hour, and most definitely not every minute.)

A few days before that session, Eddie and Buck get lost on their walk to whatever new bar Hen and Karen had invited them to when the latter notices a lamppost with a sign attached to it. He runs up to it, looks up, and reads the street name that’s written on the sign as he reaches for his phone to open the maps app. Eddie can hear Buck’s muffled mumbling, not sure if he was supposed to hear the words or if the man was talking to himself. He sees his best friend go around, almost twirling in circles, his head turning around in every direction so fast his eyes can’t quite catch up. All the spinning makes Buck look like a ballerina. A very unconventional, uncanny ballerina, considering just how tall he is. He looks pathetically ridiculous. 

Cute. Eddie’s brain supplies.

Okay. That’s certainly something that he has just thought about. 

He surprises himself with that one. It’s not like he’s never thought of Buck in affectionate terms, it’s just this time it feels different . He can't quite place the feeling, it’s unlike anything he’s felt before. He’s pretty sure he’s felt every feeling there is to feel at least once in his life but wonders if there’s a chance this new one simply doesn’t have a name yet. If it’s something no one else has ever experienced. 

There’s no way I’m the one to discover a new feeling of all things! He thinks. It has to be something else. If he tries hard enough he can almost sense the vocabulary cogs activate, he can almost reach for the way to describe the emotions surging through his body. The second he almost finds it, it’s already gone. Like looking for the word that you know you know, trying to remember what it was. You know what the word means and what the word is, you can feel it on the tip of your tongue, you can feel it in your mind, can almost see the spelling but nothing comes out of digging, of searching for it. 

Whatever. He cuts his thinking process short and redirects his attention back to Buck. He is still walking in circles under the – he checks – Sixth St. sign and Eddie wishes he could take a picture of Buck like this – in all his ridiculousness, cuteness, and authenticity.

And there it is again – a feeling he doesn’t understand. Maybe Eddie being the one to discover a new emotion that not a single soul has felt before wasn’t that big of a stretch, but there’s no world in which that happens twice.

Guess he’ll have a lot to talk about in therapy.

Great.

“I think we gotta turn left!” He hears Buck shout at him.

“You think or you know?” He asks coming closer to where Buck is standing.

He notices a sarcastic smile on his friend’s mouth and chuckles with glee.

“That’s what the app says. I don’t know about you but I’ll take my chances that this machine in my hand is right.”

“Mhm. What if you’d pissed it off and it’s leading you to your death?”

“Don’t–” he points a finger in Eddie’s face. “Even start. Or I’ll pull a Hildy 2.0.” That makes Eddie tense in his spot, a worried look on his face makes Buck laugh but the smile quickly fades.

“Oh, come on! You’re not seriously still scared of that crap, are you?”

“You never know with these things, Buck.”

“I can’t believe you. C’mon, let’s get moving before we start getting angry calls from Hen.”

So, they get going and drop the subject. 

Eddie spends the rest of the walk ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his head.

And if he drinks more than he had planned, so what? At least he doesn’t think of whatever that incident was.   

He tells Frank about this. His therapist, in return, suggests that he get a camera to express whatever feelings he can't describe with words, and start taking pictures instead. 

“I felt this weird thing that I couldn’t place. Even now, it’s like I can feel the words I want to describe the feeling with. It’s like I’m looking for the words to use, and I know they’re there, I can physically feel them running around in my mind and on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t put them together. I can’t voice them. It’s like I can see and feel my brain is empty. I’m not sure what the feeling is. But I guess it doesn’t matter because I can’t describe it anyway for you to help me figure it out.”

“Is this what got you worked up?”

“I guess it was this other thing that I felt. It was this urge, almost a need, to take a picture. Of Buck. Something about him in that moment made me want to capture it forever. My phone was dead, though. I wish I had a camera, but I probably wouldn’t have taken a picture anyway. I mean he could’ve noticed me do it, and it would’ve been weird.”

“May I suggest that you do?”

“Take a picture of Buck?’

“If you so wish,” Frank chuckles light-heartedly and continues “but I meant getting a camera. It could be a great way to express things you feel when you can’t find words to do so with.” He pauses to swallow and look at Eddie, who is pretty sure his therapist has already started analyzing his bodily response to the suggestion. 

“Think about it, we’ve been working on you expressing your feelings for a while now, and you’ve made great progress, but photographing things that make you feel complex emotions might ease you into opening up more. I think it might help you open that bottle of suppressed feelings we discussed in our previous sessions. ”

“I’m not that great of a photographer.”

“You don’t have to be. This isn’t an exam to see how skilled you are behind a camera. Think about it as homework. You don’t need a fancy camera, either. Just give it a shot, pun fully intended, by the way. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. Just take a few photos and go from there.”

***

So, Eddie does. He ends up using the old Canon EOS 1100D Ramon got right before Christopher was born. He ended up giving the camera to Eddie when he and Chris packed their lives in Texas into already-once-used cardboard boxes in an attempt to...

Eddie doesn’t know what the attempt was or what Ramon was trying to make it seem. Was it bribery? Was it his way of saying he was not happy about the move but he was willing to pretend to be a decent father and grandfather? Was the old man attempting to pretend to care, trying on that care like a faux fur coat—fake and thick, but warm and durable? Eddie spent countless hours over pre-work coffee and on his way from dropping his son off at school in his car, idly listening to whatever song was playing on the radio, and staring at the ceiling or out the window or at the foam under his rubber-gloved hands as he cleaned the kitchen counter in his new house, trying to decipher his father’s intentions.

He doesn’t want to anymore. 

His sessions with Frank must be working, because Eddie values his time enough to know when to stop giving all of his energy to trying to understand the people who raised him. He knows better than to fall back into old, limiting beliefs he inherited from his family. He doesn’t want to fall back into the very same patterns that keep spiraling into the what-ifs, the whys, the maybes… He knows from experience — personal and revealed therapy, that trying to figure his parents out is a lot like going in circles begging for change, explaining the events of his past like a song on repeat that goes on for hours at a time. Like doing the same thing again and again expecting a different result with each new try. He knows he should accept the reality, and he tries to, but it feels like his subconscious mind is wired to eventually bring him back to thinking about everything his parents have done, everything he wishes they had done differently. 

He knows all that and still can’t help but fall for his mind’s tricks when a bad memory or a “what if” question pops up in his awareness. He knows but that doesn’t mean he believes.

Then Frank suggests the camera thing.

 So, a day after that session, on the one-month anniversary of Christopher’s leave, Eddie wakes up wishing he hadn’t.

He wakes up at five and tries to fall back asleep as he tosses and turns.

And tosses and turns.

And tosses and turns.

He manages almost to fall asleep once but the warmness of his pillow and loud thoughts he could hear through his dozing state make him sit up at once as he groans into the emptiness of his house.

He gets up, makes his bed, and heads to the bathroom, where he goes through the steps of his routine with a layered emptiness inside. He reminds himself of the new addition to the vast assortment of coping mechanisms and leaves to pick up his camera. When he returns to the bathroom, he takes a picture of himself in the mirror—his tired face – an accurate reflection of what he’s feeling inside.

As he sets his Canon aside, he hopes one picture fills the working on mental health quota for the day.

That’s how he is met with his first picture of the assignment.

In retrospect, Eddie knows that expressing his feelings without actually talking about them isn’t sustainable. Still, he’s willing to give it a shot as long as he can keep his pain to himself for a little while longer and push it deep inside until pretending it has never been there in the first place is as easy as breathing again. Because that’s what he does. Because that’s what his nature is. 

Logically, somewhere in the back corner of his mind where the remains of his rational thinking lay still, he understands that this coping mechanism his therapist recommended is healthier than anything he’s used to. It’s most certainly healthier than anything he’s tried. That’s a good thing, he thinks. It's as good of a thing as any at the moment. It’s a good thing because it means he’s making progress. It means he’s healing, and healing isn’t something Eddie ever considered a possibility for himself, having been reluctant to go to therapy no matter how much he knew of its objective benefits. That’s not important anymore, though. He is in therapy, he is there every week, he has a routine, and he is making progress. That’s what matters now.

He still finds it difficult but like Pavlov’s dog, he attempts to push himself into the uncomfortable novelty and pulls out the same move whenever his mind tries playing games with him – he uses the old camera as a weapon against old beliefs as he puts in the effort to unlearn his parents’ demanding, ever-criticizing voices from the deep swamp of destructive habits and trauma buried deep in his system, wired into his core.

                                                     ***

About 42 days into adjusting to a life without his son, Eddie gets a call from Maddie. When he hears his phone ringing and checks the caller ID he is…

Well, he is surprised, to say the least. 

Sure, he likes Maddie and the feeling is mutual, but he wouldn’t say that calling each other to chit-chat or gossip is a regular part of their friendship’s routine. But declining a call isn’t a part of their routine either. He hopes this isn’t one of the work-related calls. He everything but prays this isn’t one of those calls that turn into sleepless nights in a hard plastic chair next to his best friend’s monitored body. So before he can dwell on that possibility, he answers the phone.

I can panic later if this is about Buck.

“Maddie? ‘s everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine. Hi, Eddie. Sorry if I made you worry, nobody is hurt, don’t worry. Listen, I know this is very short notice but I need help and I don’t know who else to call.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Josh’s moving apartments and I promised I’d help him pack but it’s been so hectic here that I mixed up the dates. I was sure we agreed on tomorrow but it’s actually today.” For a second he revisits praying as an idea because surely she’s not asking him to help her help Josh move. All the love and light to Josh Russo and his family, but he’d rather protect his peace. “I need someone to stay with Jee and Mara while I’m gone. I’d ask Buck but I already called him and he said he’d agreed to pick up an extra shift.” Oh, thank fuck, he thinks. Between helping his ex-boss and dwelling on his questionable parental skills, he’d rather choose the option he’s already dealing with. Maddie continues. “Chim is also at work, Bobby is there too. Athena is house-hunting. Hen and Karen are meeting with yet another lawyer and they think she might be the one. And I can’t ask Toni and Denny. So I’m all out of options here. Is there any chance you’d be able to come look after them for a few hours?” She pauses and something is telling him she is not done talking. “If it’s too much because… you know,” she adds, unsure. Ah. There it is. He thinks. “I’ll figure something out.” 

“‘s fine, Maddie. I’ll be at yours soon. How long do you need me there for?”

“Till around eight? Sorry, I know it’s long.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye, Maddie.”

Somehow he manages to get to the Buckley-Han household without causing an accident. When he arrives, he parks his car and sits inside giving himself a pep-talk. Just because you failed as a parent doesn’t mean you’ll make a terrible babysitter, he thinks. Or maybe this will be even worse, what good will come out of a babysitter who failed to care for his child? His mind unhelpfully supplies in a voice that isn’t necessarily his, but he’s too out of it to notice any difference. He gets out of his car and before he can knock on the door, he is greeted by loud laughter coming from behind the closed door. When he comes inside the first thing he sees other than the relieved look on Maddie’s face is a little girl running around with a small plastic spoon in her mouth being chased by an older girl. “Jee, wait, you gotta finish your lunch!” She screams with a hint of mirth in her voice.

“I see they’re restless.”

“Hi. Yeah. Sorry I’m leaving you with them when they’re like this. I owe you big time.”

“Please. Don’t even mention it. I was bored out of my mind, about to reorganize my dishes by colors when you called. If anything I owe you .”

She smiles.

“Right. So. I should be back before Jee’s bedtime at 8 but if I’m not, make sure she brushes her teeth and changes into pajamas before she gets into bed. Mara is usually the one to read her a story these days so don’t worry about that.” She puts on her shoes as he recites the things on the agenda for the day. “Speaking of Mara, she’s mostly done with her chores but she needs someone to run the lines with her for the school play.” She picks up her handbag and makes sure she’s got her phone, wallet, and keys on her. “You can treat them to pizza – money for that is on the counter under the fruit bowl.” 

“Got it.” He gives her a thumbs up. “Have fun with the move. Tell Josh I said hi.”

“Oh, you know he’ll be livid.”

“That’s the point.” He winks at her and that earns him a little giggle.

She hugs Mara and Jee goodbye and leaves out the door. Eddie hears the engine of her car start as the situation he’s gotten himself into becomes more real and unavoidable. 

No turning back now.

He shifts in the spot he’s been standing before he grows roots, unable to function, and leaves the girls to themselves. He notices Jee-Yun on the couch, too preoccupied with her toys to spare a second of her attention on Eddie. So, instead of bothering her, he carefully approaches where Mara is sitting with papers in her hands – the script, he guesses – in the armchair next to the couch. 

How does he even start a conversation with a child he’s barely met before? He must’ve been standing there, lost in his thoughts, concerningly long because he hears Mara cough, and when he looks up, she’s staring at him awaiting his next move.

“So.” Eddie begins. “School play. Isn’t it too early for that? I mean it's summer vacation.” Great save. 

“It’s a Halloween play. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one rehearsing, anyway. It’s stupid, we’re not gonna have time to rehearse when the classes start.” Eddie can tell she’s tense by the way her voice comes out and her shoulders raise to ears. 

 He attempts to shift her focus. “Tell me about the plot?”

Her eyes move in his direction and she sighs. “The Antichrist came to Earth from space and was raised by human cowboys. When evil fairies discover it, they plan to kidnap the Antichrist and use him to take over the world. His cowboy parents have to make a difficult decision to go to space to reunite the Antichrist with his alien birth parents and save the world. But they don’t realize that the fairies had snuck onto the shuttle and followed them to outer space.”

Eddie’s eyes open wide. His eyebrows move so high on his forehead that they almost fly off his face.

What the fuck do they feed kids these days?

“Who– Uhm.” He coughs. “Who wrote this play? I don’t think you mentioned that.”

“Me and two other people from the drama club.”

He can’t help but wonder what served as inspiration for the plot.

And how they managed to convince their teachers to greenlight it.

“Huh. How about I help you run the lines?”

She gives him a judgmental assessing look, scanning his body, posture, and demeanor with her eyes as if he wasn’t the only one auditioning. 

Which…

Ouch? 

“Are you sure you can handle the pressure?”

“Believe it or not I’m quite good at that. I’m a firefighter.”

“Uhuh.”

Hello?! I didn’t even do anything. What’s with the hostility?

“Look, just give me a chance. It’s not like you have better options.” He says and, quietly so she can’t hear him well, adds. “Or any other options for that matter.”

He quickly realizes that those last words must have come out louder than he intended because the look she gives him is mischievous.

Oh, fuck. She might actually kill me.

They end up restarting their rehearsal more than once. Each time picking up from the very first line and barely moving past the first act. Mara seems to have been born with a special ability to find flaws in every line delivery Eddie does because there’s something wrong with each of them – he’s speaking too fast, the child character sounds too childish (“He’s a child, Mara. What do you want him to sound like?” “Preferably not like you.”), the way he acts out the fairies is a ‘high school bully’ mean and not ‘bloodthirsty creatures wanting to bring doom upon the universe’ mean, and he keeps taking longer pauses than she finds appropriate between scenes. Which, ok, he has never claimed to be an Academy-Award-value actor, but come on!

Why’s she evil beyond her years to me specifically? 

He also never claimed to be a role model parent, recent events making him question if he’d even qualify for a half-decent one, but he gathers all of his experience and skills to try to get Mara on his side. He can’t let another kid hate him.

“Mara, how about we take a break? I think we did well.”

“We can’t stop now. We haven’t even reached act two. We don’t have time, Eddie! I know no one else is rehearsing now, because it’s summer and they’re who knows where, busy doing who knows what instead of focusing on what’s important!”

There it is. He thinks he can handle a little parenting right now. Or uncle-ing, or whatever is the name for the weird family dynamic this is.

“Look,” he starts gently as he follows her gaze with his own until she finally looks at him. He thinks that, maybe, giving a kid you’ve only met briefly a couple of times before a hearty speech is too much too soon. But he has to be honest with her. “I know what it’s like to have something important to you that no one else seems to be taking seriously. It’s isolating. It feels like you’re screaming but nothing comes out, just silence. You can’t get people to do what you need them to do by begging them to show up. If you do, you’ll end up in the middle of a very annoyed or worse indifferent crowd. You need to remember who you’re doing this for. You’re doing this for you because it matters to you. Once you show up for yourself and make sure you do things because you want to, everybody else will tune in, too. And if not, they can piss off. You’ll find someone else that will.”

He gives her a reassuring smile and doesn’t look away until her features soften and turn into the tiniest resemblance of a smile.

“Fine. Let’s take a break.” She agrees and rolls her eyes in defeat. “Don’t think this speech will distract me from how bad your acting is, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 She gives him a little nod and turns around to where Jee has been sitting on the sofa, playing with her dolls. As she does, Eddie swears he can hear her mumble a “Thank you.”

And that gets him thinking that maybe not all hope is lost. Maybe he’s still capable of being a parent.

They end up ordering two small pizzas – Pepperoni for Mara, Capricciosa for Eddie, which gets Mara heated up about olives on pizza being an abomination – and some fries with only a dash of salt for Jee. They end up eating on the floor while an animated movie, the name of which Eddie forgot almost instantly, keeps them company. When they are done, they clean up the boxes from their takeout, and, having fallen victim to Jee-Yun’s irresistible cuteness, spend thirty minutes playing house with her dolls. Once she’s too bored with the game she moves back to the floor and on to drawing something on the paper she’d brought from her room. Eddie and Mara take this opportunity to run the lines of the second act before Maddie comes back.

This part of the rehearsal moves smoother than the previous attempts. Mara only comments on his poor artistic skill a couple of times and even compliments the voice he does for one of the aliens – what she says is that it’s not terrible, but in Eddie’s mind, it’s praise. 

They manage to go through the entirety of Act Two with extra time to spare up their sleeve so they join Jee. They lie down, their bellies on the rug by the couch, forming a circle and facing each other, and each takes a piece of paper and some crayons. Mara decides to make a poster for her play and Eddie draws a bee that according to the girls looks like a yellow-stripped bear on chemicals. 

“Some people are just born without artistic skills or any skills for that matter, it’s okay, Eddie,” Mara tells him and giggles when his jaw falls agape. Jee starts laughing at him, too. Great, they’re two of them plotting against me, now. 

“At least I dared to attempt anyway.”

“And that’s honorable. Too bad you’re helpless and your attempt failed.”

“You are so charming.”

She gives him her first big smile of the day and he thinks he can handle a little bullying if he gets to make a child, even if not his, smile at him like that again.

He looks to his side where Jee is working on two drawings simultaneously – one of two figures, one shorter and one longer, and the other of cats. 

“What are you working on there, Jee?”

 “That’s me, mommy and daddy and we are cats!” She tells him, pointing at one of her masterpieces and Eddie thinks he might explode. “And that’s me and Uncle Buck!” She says, pointing at the other drawing and Eddie feels himself explode inside. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of that drawing when she’s not looking, he looks at the picture and can’t fight the smile that appears on his face when he looks at it a while longer. He makes a mental note to set it as his lock screen later. He hears Mara clear her throat, quickly locks the phone, and puts it aside as he looks at her. She is staring him down with a smug, all-knowing expression on her face that Eddie can’t fully decipher. That girl will become the president, I can feel it. He thinks and tries not to theorize about what’s going on in her mind. Luckily for him, that’s when he hears the door open.

“Mommy!” Jee shouts as she gets up from her spot on the floor and runs to her mom who picks her up to greet her back and kisses her on her cheeks.

“Hey!” He calls from the floor. “How did the moving go?”

Maddie sighs and puts Jee back on the ground. “I completely forgot how exhausting it is to move. Luckily, Josh doesn’t have that much stuff so it’ll only take a few trips to move his things to the new place.” She tells him while taking her shoes off and putting them on the rack. “I hope this house is it for us, I don’t think I’d handle another move.”

He laughs and settles for a simple response, still navigating the dynamic between the two of them. “I'm glad it went well,” Eddie responds and means it. He gets up from the floor and picks up his drawing.

“I know I said this already but thank you for watching the girls. I didn’t know who else to call. I’m so glad Buck remembered you had a day off.”

What? Buck told Maddie to ask me? That’s not what she told me.

Oh, I think I know what this is. And by the looks of it, Maddie forgot she wasn’t to let him know that she did, too.  

“Did Buck tell you to keep me busy so I don’t spiral?”

“Not exactly. He was just concerned. He said you’ve been…” She considers, “Well, he said you’ve been ‘moping’. He is just worried about you, now that Christopher is in El Paso.”

There’s a part of Eddie that wants to get mad at Buck, but he also finds the action endearing and, he hates to admit it, thoughtful. He decides not to argue, he just accepts the intention behind Buck and Maddie’s conspiratory decision to keep him sane. After all, he’s had fun today. 

“I’m sorry,” Maddie says, her hands interlocked. “ I should’ve told you.”

“No. It’s okay. I appreciate you guys trying to help me. Besides, I enjoyed the company.” He says and turns to look at where the girls are sitting on the couch.

“Great. ‘Cus I am, in fact, helping Josh move, and I could really use a babysitter.”

Eddie laughs at her statement and Maddie giggles, too.

“You can count on me, just let me know when you need me.”

“Will do.”

They stand there a while, sharing awkward smiles and short nods. Eddie opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes to mind so he just points at the front door with his thumb. As he moves from the spot where he’d been standing, Maddie catches his arm lightly and pulls him into a half-hug. Momentarily, he doesn’t register what is happening, too shocked by the sudden closeness. He hasn’t been hugged in a while. 

“A while” so long, he’s managed to forget how nice and comforting this simple action could be. He is relieved to know there are still people who are willing to remind him.

He waits another moment before carefully half-hugging her back. This is nice, he thinks.  

Once he’s in his car, he grabs the camera he’d put under his chair for safekeeping, and takes a photo of the front door of the house he’d left with a conflicting feeling blooming in his chest. Like a big flower, each petal carries a feeling that grows into an even larger spectrum of emotions he can’t fully put into words. He finds one that feels an awful lot like grief. One that reminds him of disappointment, yet, oddly of satisfaction. There’s a warm sensation staring in his chest, slowly spreading out through his body. 

This amalgamation of emotions reminds him of many things and feelings. 

Ultimately, however, it reminds him of anticipation.

                                                ***

Five days after his babysitting gig, on day 47 of hating himself for making Christopher leave, he finally gets to video call his son.

What starts as them trying to navigate their new schedules, trying to work out a day for their weekly calls – which they end up never setting on and agree to pick a day at the beginning of each week – quickly turns into Helena passively scolding Eddie and reminding him of the scale to which he’s messed this up. 

He feels like he can’t even argue with her words since the way he sees the situation isn’t too far off from what she considers it to be.

But as if that wasn’t enough to make him hate himself even deeper now, Chris spends the rest of their time together avoiding looking at him and communicating mainly through short answers and fleeting sounds.

Eddie had expected their first call to be bumpy. He hadn’t expected his son to acknowledge his presence.

He ends the call by telling Chris that he loves him and that they’ll see each other next week.

That night, Eddie falls asleep two hours before his alarm goes off.

                                                    ***

Eddie tells Frank he’s afraid he’s a fraud 48 days into Christopher being in Texas and away from him. He tells Frank that in all the time between dating Shannon, getting her pregnant, marrying her, serving his first tour in Afghanistan, coming back to his wife and son, serving his second tour in Afghanistan, coming back for good, Shannon leaving him and Chris alone, the two of them moving to LA, him becoming a firefighter, reconciling with Shannon, having to grieve her, screwing up every relationship that followed after, having an emotional affair with his dead wife’s doppelganger, his parents taking his son away to Texas, he hasn’t had much time to understand who he was, who he is.

“I’ve met so many people in my life, especially since moving to LA, and a lot of them are my family now. I know what they're like and what they want to get out of life.”

“But?” Frank asks him, knowing there’s one of those coming.

“But I feel like I’ve never got the chance to meet myself... and it terrifies me.” He pauses and allows the gate to open. “I’m terrified that I might never have known who I am to begin with. Feels like I just did things to please my parents, or my wife, or people on the streets I’ll never meet again, or people I helped on calls—even those I felt like I had to please instead of just doing my job and helping them. I mean, it’s not like I had relationships to build with them; they were just people in distress I had to help... and yet, I just put on whatever face I had on me that day without thinking twice about it and tried to meet the expectations I’m pretty sure only I thought they had of me.” 

He stops after that and looks at his hands as he fidgets with his fingers. Frank lets him. He waits for Eddie as he takes his time and collects his thoughts. 

I’m a fraud and people can see right through my bullshit.

“I don’t think I know who I am outside of work and being a father, outside of my trauma or… my relationships,” He stops again, he’s not used to talking this much during his sessions but each week it gets a little easier to stop holding back. He takes a few shaky deep breaths and reminds himself he’s safe here. ”In every relationship I’ve been in since Shannon I’ve felt like a fraud too. I don’t know. With her, I felt so many things that I don’t think any woman will ever make me feel again.”

“What did you feel towards her? How did she make you feel?”

“I felt seen, heard, understood. That’s the simplest way to put it.”

“What about the not simplest way?”

Eddie thinks that if he had to mention everything he’s ever felt because of Shannon, Frank would have to cancel every session with other clients until his next one with Eddie. He makes a mental note to try to keep the monologue that’s about to come out of his mouth to the point, already knowing he might end up losing the train of thought if he doesn’t.

“I loved Shannon. I was in love with her. I was in love with her kindness, her compassion, and her openness. When we met, it was like someone finally saw me, understood me, and cared for me.  She was the only person around whom I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. At least at first, before we began dating. Before Chris, we were inseparable, we would tell each other everything. There was not a single person I trusted more than her. Sometimes, usually after a fight with my parents, I would sneak out of the house to run to hers, or to the lake that was our special place. We would hug. She would listen. I would cry and she would do anything to make me crack a smile, but she never stopped at just one smile… not until I’d laughed. She was the only one who could cheer me up so easily, though my sisters came close.

“Shannon was my best friend, my favorite person. I loved the way she took care of people, those closest to her and those she’d just met. I loved the way she made me feel safe. I loved the way she made me feel worth something. I loved feeling normal for the first time in my life when we were together. When we got married, I loved telling people I had a wife, it felt like I was doing something right. I felt accomplished. She was just so perfect, in every way. She was kind, breathtakingly beautiful, witty, incredibly generous, too generous for her own good. How could anyone not fall in love with her?”

With her, I felt normal and now I’m scared I’ll never feel normal again. 

These words remain unspoken. 

“Eddie, I can hear all the things you loved about Shannon, it’s clear to me that you loved her.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ there somewhere?”

“Is there? I can’t tell what you felt about your wife, Eddie. However, I did sense a ‘but’ on your end. It seemed to me like there’s more to this story that you aren’t voicing, something maybe you are too afraid to admit. So tell me, is there one?”

He stares at Frank, searching for a short answer in the way his features shift, hoping they’ll serve as a giveaway for whatever it is he expects Eddie to say in response. He has to remind himself that here, in this office, there are no expectations. He can be as honest as he wants to be. As blunt about all the ugly stuff deep within as he needs.

“There’s not a single doubt in my mind that I loved Shannon but the more I think about the ways I felt about her, the ways she made me feel, the more I realize that I’ve never wanted her like that .” “It’s weird right, I mean, I loved her, I wanted her, I needed her so earnestly. At times, I would just sit there beside her and admire her as she talked about all the things she’d learned, so I must have been in love with her. I loved kissing and holding her. I guess I liked having sex with her, too - so why does it suddenly feel like I never wanted her like that? Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been lying to myself?”

“Eddie, this is a very serious and deep observation. I can’t help but wonder if there was something that triggered this process of questioning yourself and your past feelings?”

“Buck.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Buck. I think he triggered this. Well, not him specifically. He’s thinking about breaking up with his boyfriend. The other day at work, he asked for advice and wanted us to tell him if he was making the right decision. He told us that when he and Tommy first got together, he was sure he had a crush on the guy and that he was attracted to him. As weeks went by he just realized that he confused gratitude for infatuation. Tommy kissing him unlocked such a big part of himself he never realized was there. He liked kissing him so he thought that also meant he liked him. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was overthinking it or if he was right about the whole thing so Hen asked him to give an example. He said that he feels all right when he’s with Tommy, that he feels free… but he feels like something is missing. As great as things are with Tommy, Buck said he feels like he’s settling for something… Then he went on to tell us that he cares for Tommy, he likes many of his qualities, but he still feels empty inside.”

“Is that what got you reevaluating your relationship with Shannon?”

“More or less. Chim and Hen had to stop him from spiraling so they chimed in with examples from their own romantic histories. Chimney talked about his ex-girlfriend Tatiana, about how he felt the need to pretend to be someone he wasn’t because he wanted her to love him and because he thought he loved her, but now he knows he just wanted to feel worthy of love. He wanted to feel like he was enough.

“Hen mentioned Eva. She said she loved her in a way, in a very self-sabotaging way. Said it wasn’t all that bad at first, but later down the line she realized she had pink-tinted glasses on throughout their entire relationship. She bargained with herself that Eva couldn’t possibly be so selfish, so rude, so destructive.”

“What happened after?”

“It was my turn to give an example. I had a hard time choosing just one. I think that’s what started it - having too many examples of dysfunctional relationships to choose from. I realized I was never in a relationship that worked. With Ana, I felt like I had to push myself to show up in that relationship because Christopher liked her and because she was a safe choice. I truly think highly of her, she was incredible, and so helpful with Chris but I had to constantly remind myself to try harder to fall in love with her. 

“With Marisol, it was slightly different. She was so bright, so full of optimism, it was intoxicating. She was great with Christopher, too. And she made me laugh, so I thought that meant she made me happy. The last woman that made me happy was Shannon, and I was in love with her, so that meant I must be falling in love with Marisol. That was enough for me… until Kim, and, well, I don’t think I wanted her. I wanted the love of my life, my best friend, back. I wanted life to feel normal again. I wanted things to be the way they were supposed to - be a family with my son and his mother,”   He can’t believe he’s telling Frank about this. He never thought he’d ever be so careless as to let his guard down enough to let anyone know about this part of him. He felt so stupid, so contradictory to everything he’s been through, and everything he ran from.  ”That’s when something clicked. I remembered Shannon asking me if that was all she was to me - Christopher’s mother. That was the last puzzle piece that sent me down the rabbit hole.

“She was so much more than that to me but ultimately I realized I didn’t want her as my wife, I wanted her as my best friend, as the first person who truly saw me, the mother of my son. I didn’t want to be with her, I wanted her to be around, I wanted her to come back and be there for Chris, to be there for me, for both of us. I miss her so much and I feel so guilty for the way things unfolded.”

“Can I ask you to elaborate on that?”

“Years ago, I think I was angry at her for running away, for leaving Chris alone, except he wasn’t alone, he was with me, which seemed even worse at the time. I had no idea how to raise him as a single parent, without her to help. I was so mad she did this. That she left him… that she left me. I was so blinded by the agony I was in, I couldn’t see that I had done the same to her years prior.

“When I left for the army, I wholeheartedly believed I was doing what was best for my family. I enlisted because I had to be the man of the house, I had to bring money and food home. I was to provide for my wife and our child.

“At least that's what I kept telling everyone, including myself. Especially myself. Truth be told, I think I wasn’t doing it for them. I mean, not entirely. I was doing that for me. I ran from the reality of being a father, being a husband. I never wanted to marry her. The mere thought of being married to her, raising a child, working a 9 to 5, and being this nuclear family everyone expected us to be made me sick. I liked telling people I had a wife and a family. I didn’t always like having a wife and a family. I wanted to make my own decisions and be in control, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to. All the decisions were made for me - my father told me to man up when I was ten and I had no choice, I had to be there for my mom, and I had to be a brother and a father to my sisters. When Shannon and I started getting closer, the peer pressure made me think the next logical thing was to ask her out, the next one was to have sex with her because that’s what guys my age were doing - dating girls and having sex and there was me - a virgin at nineteen. Every guy I knew told me that was weird that I hadn’t had sex with a girl yet. So I asked out the only girl I liked, had sex with her, didn’t hate it, and when she got pregnant our parents made us marry because having a child out of wedlock was inappropriate, and unjust. A sin. I never even proposed, I didn’t have to. We got married because our parents told us to. So when it came to building a family, being a husband and a father, I never felt in control of anything. I never felt like I could make my own choices. I felt like I was drowning… even considered actually drowning in that lake Shan and I would go to. When the option to enlist again presented itself, I did the next best thing - I made a decision that was close enough to what was expected of me, but still allowed me to be in control. It allowed me to distance myself from the life I had to live. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my son. He’s the best thing that happened to me and I would never want to live in a world where I’m not his father and he’s not my kid but god at that time I was running as far away as I could from him. I wanted to be on my own. I know I should’ve been there with him, with them. I should’ve provided Chris with a better childhood but I barely had a childhood of my own and I felt so jealous, angry, and betrayed. I was envious of my son. I was hurt because I had to grow up so fast and when I thought I could still be a teenager for a bit, that too fell apart and I had to be someone’s father again. I felt alone and I had no right to be. I yelled at everyone, I made the worst decisions possible. Ironically enough, I did the opposite of what was needed and expected of me. I would snap at Shannon when she was trying to tell me how she felt. I was horrible.” 

“You were a child.”

“Maybe. But I was still somebody’s husband and father. I had no right to act up and I most certainly had no right to be angry at Shannon when she left. I left her with Chris too. She was alone. Our parents helped, but she was still alone with a newborn, and then with a toddler, and I wish I had stopped to think about how she felt more. I wish I had listened. I was so pissed I never had a childhood, so pissed I had to spend my last teen year as a father, an adult, that I never considered that Shannon was a teenager too. She was just a girl. She must have been scared and probably lost. I wish I was there for her. I love her so much.”

His facade comes crumbling down rapidly, as he lets out a sudden cry. His breaths get stuck in his throat, choking him. His sobs get so loud he can hear them reverberating against the walls of Frank’s office, echoing, cutting through the throbbing sensation in his ears. They don’t last long, slowly becoming lighter and quieter, enough for him to catch his breath and look up. He waits and looks before him at the coffee table separating him and Frank. He reaches for the box of tissues, blows his nose into it, and wipes his eyes with the fabric of his shirt still shaking. He swallows, sniffles, and blinks the remaining tears from his eyes before he speaks.

“There were moments I wanted to throw myself at an explosive so I wouldn’t have to come back to what was waiting for me in El Paso. I wanted to let myself be killed more times than I could count but as much as I hated the life I had to live back home, I loved my son and wife, even though it wasn’t in the way I was supposed to… I’m not making any sense, now, am I? I mean one second I confess to having basically despised my family and wanting to be as far from them as possible, the next, I tell you I loved them enough to have kept fighting in a war to go back home to them in one piece and –”

“If I may interrupt you here, Eddie. We don’t have much of today’s session left and if that’s okay with you, I’d like to comment on what you’ve told me.”

 “Go ahead.” He replies, bites his lips, and then pouts.

“Eddie, it is completely normal to feel things that contradict each other. I know society teaches us that there’s either this or that, good or bad, black or white, and that you can’t have both, only one but not the other. However, this belief couldn’t be further from the truth. You can feel sad about something ending and be relieved at the same time. You can like something and recognize it’s not good for you. Humans are complex beings, with a multitude of emotions following us everywhere we go. We can’t divide feelings into those we can and can’t feel, or those we can’t feel together. I can assure you a lot of people find themselves going through waves of mixed emotions not allowing themselves to just feel them without labeling them.”

Eddie nods and gives Frank a mirthless smile. He thinks awhile about his response as he glimpses at the clock on the wall behind the other man. 

“Do you understand what I mean?”

“I do. I mean, it’s so obvious. I just– wish I’d realized this myself sooner instead of letting it get to my head.”

“There is nothing inherently wrong with letting things get to you. What matters is how you deal with that.”

“Right.’’ He swallows and decides there’s no use stretching out this point Frank just made. “But, uhm, going back to what got us here… Since, you know, not much time left of the session. I’ve always felt like I had to perform in relationships. I figured I just wasn’t made to be in a romantic relationship. Not cut out for one. But I don’t think a sex-based relationship is for me, either. I don’t care for sex, that’s not something I’ve ever craved in a relationship. But then, again, when I did date romantically, I only dated to find a mother for Christopher. ” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever liked a woman.”

“Let me ask you something, Eddie. Has there ever been anyone in your life who’s come close to making you feel the way Shannon did? Someone you don’t constantly feel the need to please? A person you feel safe with enough to allow yourself to take the mask off or to never have to put it on at all.” 

Eddie thinks. He doesn’t have to, necessarily, but he thinks nonetheless. A vision of Buck comes to mind instantly.

                                                   ***

Eddie desperately wishes, on day 53 of routinely replaying in his head the reason for his son’s absence, that there was another way out of this. 

Unfortunately, there is no magic cough syrup you can take every day before meals for a week to cure grief. No pills you can take for the rest of your life to ease the symptoms the tsunami of loss swallowing you brings when you least expect it. No vaccine to boost your mourning immunity.

There’s no easy fix.

But there are ways to cope. Things you can implement when the first omens of sorrow appear. 

Before you are drenched with raw anguish and bargaining.

Before the time bomb of emptiness pulverizes your bones.

Bobby Nash is the only person he can go to who would understand, and who shares similar trauma.

That’s how Eddie finds himself, using his shoe to nervously play with the rug in front of the door to the Grant-Nashes’ rental to calm himself and gather his thoughts before he walks into there’s no coming back from.

He knocks on the door and considers running away before Bobby opens it to see his sour face, he can just blame the absence of a person at the door on some teenager prank. He takes too long because before he can change his mind, the door is open, and Bobby’s standing in the frame with a troubled expression on his face.

“Eddie? Hey. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes.” 

He lies.

“Just wanted to talk to you, Bobby.”

The older man doesn’t look too convinced by his only partly honest excuse, “Come on in then. Do you want a coffee?”

“Yeah. I could use some. Thanks.”

He slowly walks to the dinner table in the middle of the room, and takes a seat there, waiting for Bobby to brew him his drink.

As his captain sets the mug by his resting hands, he tells Eddie he can cut the act, “Look, Eddie. I know you are not here to catch up. So, please be honest with me when you answer.” He says as he takes a seat on the other side of the table. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie scrunchies his lips at that, holding back his frown, “That’s debatable.”

“Okay. Well, I’m here. How can I help?”

Now or never, Eddie thinks before choosing his next words carefully.

“I totally understand if this is not something you wanna talk about but I just didn’t know who else to talk to, Cap.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Eddie licks his lips and takes a breath.

“As you know, I messed up. With Christopher, I mean. I let the illusion, an idea of something I’ve built up in my head control me and now he doesn’t want to be near me. If want that to change, I gotta show him that I have changed. That I’m not gonna let this grief, this– this– I don’t know what call it– control me.“ He takes the mug before him into his hands, letting the heat of the ceramic ground him. “To do that I need to learn how to deal with this pain. That’s why I’m here. Because you are the only one who’d understand this feeling.” He looks Bobby in the eyes. “You are the only person I trust who knows has dealt with losing your wife.” He bites his lips, “So, Bobby, how did you deal with that loss?”

Bobby doesn’t respond right away, he takes a long deep breath and gets up from his chair to move closer to where Eddie is sitting.

“I didn’t.” He says as he takes a seat next to him. He studies Eddie’s reaction, looking for an indication to either stop or keep going with his answer. He seems to have found one in something Eddie doesn’t realize he’d done – a shift in his expression, perhaps, or maybe it’s Bobby’s fatherly intuition that tells him what to do.

“At first, I didn’t want to accept what had happened. I bargained. I drank. I prayed. Nothing brought my family or any of those people I killed back. So, I thought, the least I could do was – per one person that I lost, I’d save one to restore the “balance” in the world. Truth is, there is no balance to restore because the world is balanced as it is.

“The longer I pretended that I had it all under control, the longer that control continued to slip away from me.”

“So how did you finally move on?’

“I didn’t.” He said with an air of finality. “I never will. You can’t move on from losing people you love. But you can learn how to live without them.”

“How did you do that?”

“At first, I didn’t. I ignored the nagging feelings inside me. That I didn’t need help because I thought there wasn’t anything to be helped with. Then, when I’d stopped drinking, I thought I was making progress in processing my grief.” He took a long look at Eddie to make sure he understood the words that were about to follow. “I wasn’t processing shit. I lost control – whatever I thought that meant to me – and got drunk. If it wasn’t for Hen and Buck, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I wouldn’t be here today, period.

“What I mean is you need people, Eddie. You need to let them help you carry that pain. I know you feel like it’ll burden them but what if it won’t – you can’t know for sure until you take that risk. If you keep doing the same things expecting a different result, you’ll just dig yourself further into your own grave.”

Eddie listens. He swallows up every word of Bobby’s speech. He doesn’t move too scared that he’ll miss something important if he does. He just stares at the steam floating over the dark surface of his coffee.

“I didn’t know how to handle my pain, nothing seemed to work so I continued the cycle of bargaining and begging. But I got tired, and eventually, I figured I could either accept that there was no turning back the time or continue to follow the rules I’d made up to feel better about myself and less guilty. But that had never worked before and it would’ve never worked in the future. Had I not allowed myself to move forward – not ‘on’ – had I not accepted that I couldn’t continue living in a constant vicious circle of playing god and thrown away that book I made, I would’ve ended up dead on a call, trying to save someone to prove a point. And that’s no way to live.”

Bobby puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and that finally gets him to turn his head in the other man’s direction.

“I had to start doing things differently. I still go to church, yes, but in all raw honesty, I don’t know if He is out there. I choose to believe that He is because I need to have faith in something greater and more powerful than myself. Especially in a job like ours. That’s why I pray – I’d rather take vague odds of God existing if that helps us bring even just a single person home in one piece. I still do everything to help and save people, I go all out. That’s who I am both at and outside of work. I just don’t chase after alleged balance in the world. If I do, I’ll lose myself in the process and then I won’t be a good captain. I won’t save anyone if I can’t take a step back and make sure I help myself first.

“Eddie, the grief never fully goes away. But it does fade into the background of your life. You have to allow yourself to live your life with that grief in your heart, to live despite the mourning, despite the crushing feeling of loss. You have to accept your new reality. I wasn’t healed when I decided it was time to move forward but I chose to do so anyway. Even if you are not ready to move forward – God knows I wasn’t healed when I decided it was time to take those steps – you have to choose to do so anyway because you won’t heal if you keep waiting for the universe to do it for you.

 “And if you want to know how to do that, you can start simple – you cry if you need to cry. You laugh if you need to laugh. You scream if you need to scream.  But you have to be honest with yourself when you do. The person you love won’t come back. But that doesn’t mean they’re entirely gone from your life. You honor Shannon by keeping the memory of her alive, and by telling Christopher stories about his mother that he hasn’t heard. You honor her by letting yourself exist outside of what you were with her and by feeling all kinds of things and that includes an entire spectrum of emotions. As long as you feel, you are alive. As long as you are alive, so is the love for her and your memory of her.”

Eddie feels like he is about to cry but no tears come out. He feels the usual sting in his eyes, the tugging feeling in his chest but nothing comes out. He feels this is an unjust reaction to Bobby’s words. Thinks he’s supposed to be crying, the tears should be dripping down his cheeks like rivulets.

But nothing comes out.

His chest is heaving like it usually does, so he takes time to calm his breath and focus on Bobby’s message. 

If he wants to honor Shannon he needs to feel. So he feels this.

Later in the day, when he is ready to leave Bobby’s apartment, he takes a moment to take a picture of his unfinished cold coffee as he continues to feel.

                                                 ***

In a turn of events that shouldn’t be all that shocking considering the amount of therapy he’s been doing, he spends the following ten days doing things differently.

He slowly starts reaching out to people, opening up to them little by little.

At some point, he is at the Wilsons’ house, talking to Hen and Karen, the people who are going through a fairly similar experience to his, about what missing his son has truly been like.

“I don’t think I can survive like this much longer. I don’t know how to prove to him I’m sorry. To show him can still trust me.” He tells them over burgers they’d ordered to go along with their beers.

“I’m sure he knows you’re sorry,” Karen assures him.

“Karen is right,” Hen adds, taking a sip of her beer. “He knows you’re sorry. So. Best thing you can do is give him space and let him come to you. Not the other way around. You are the one that messed up and you have to be the one to own up to your mistake.”

“Yeah, I know.” He starts, “I just– I don’t know. My entire life has been about taking care of him for years. Then I lost focus. I acted like a selfish prick and now he’s gone.” He chugs down with two large gulps of beer and takes a bite of his burger.

“Is that the only thing that worries you?” Karen asks.

“Ye–” he almost believes the statement he is about to say, but, as if in punishment for his lie, the sourness of the pickle in his last burger bite hits his tongue at once. “No. No, it’s not. I don’t think I know how to function without him, Karen, and I’m scared that he’ll never want to come back here. And I’m terrified my parents will raise him the way they did with me.”

“Which was?” Both women ask in unison.

“Limiting. They cared so much about the way they were perceived, that they only put me in clubs that would make me, them, look competent. That would make people think their son was normal.

     “They told me that boys didn’t cry, they didn’t show emotions, they were not to be soft. That real men, fathers, sons, and brothers are ruling, strict, and confident. That they are the ones in charge of their families. That they know what’s best for the families.” He pauses and waves his hands, trying to draw a shape in the air, “The whole conservative bullshit package. That’s not how I want to raise my son. I don’t want him to grow up in the same system I did. In a community where boys rarely get to hug their fathers, are never shown physical affection or told they’re loved by their fathers.” He folds his arms into a comforting self-hug and rests his chin on his wrist. “I promised myself to be a better parent than that. I want Chris to be able to talk to me about the things that matter to him. About the things he wants in life. I want him to know that he is loved no matter what. That I love him no matter what. I swore he’d always come first and I lied.”

Hen and Karen share looks that, he is pretty sure, carry a silent conversation behind them. Oh to have a love like this, his tipsy mind lets him think.

“You can’t be the father he needs if that’s all you are focused on.” Hen begins. Karen nods in solidarity and finishes her wife’s thought, “You were ‘Eddie the person’ before you became ‘Eddie the father’ and you need to honor that.”

Honor, huh?

He’s heard a lot about it lately. So much, in fact, that it’s enough for him to take the suggestion more seriously.

He’ll try it out – the whole honor thing.

“Thank you both.” He says and does a circling motion with the neck of his beer bottle. “For this, you know. The dinner, the listening. I really don’t have anyone else who’d understand what it’s like to not live under the same roof with their kid.”

They give him a sad smile. 

“Yeah, well. It is draining.” Says Hen.

 “I don’t think I’ve slept much in the past two months.” Adds Karen.

“I’m ready for this to be over but it’s always something with Ortiz that keeps us on edge,” Hen tells him as she takes a tiny sip of her drink.

“We have to do everything to prove we are capable of being the best parents for Mara,” Karen says with heavy eyes and an exhausted look on her face.

“You will.” He assures them, “You are incredible parents.”

“So are you.” They tell him, moving their bottle closer to his to clink them and cheer to the sentiment.

It sounds like they believe the statement is true.

Eddie hopes that one day soon he will, too.

He spends other days going out of his comfort zone by not going out at all. He stays in his house, where Christopher’s absence is inescapable. He starts to learn how to handle it.

And how to be alone with himself.

He still spends time with his family. He babysits Jee and Mara, continuing to help the latter with her play and he even earns his first “good job” from her.

One day at work, he allows Chim to convince him to go karaoke with him and lets Cap teach him a recipe.

By day ten of doing things differently, he almost feels proud of himself.

Almost.

                                                          ***

On day 78 of being separated from his son, Eddie takes Mara and Jee to get milkshakes on Sixth Street.

He is, once again, over to babysit the girls and help Mara run the lines for her big stage debut.

This time Chim is the one to answer when he arrives at their front door, hands halfway busy with tying a tie.

“Where are you going?” He asks, taking off a bag he’d been carrying over his shoulder.

“To meet the parents.”

“But you’ve met Maddie’s parents.”

“Don’t remind me,” he says as he fails his attempt to tie his tie with shaky hands. Whoever’s parents he’s meeting, he’s stressed the hell out about it. “I’m meeting Ravi’s parents.”

“Is your wife aware of this arrangement?” 

“Very funny. Yeah, she’s aware. She’s coming with me, in fact.”

“Why on earth are the two of you meeting Panikkar seniors?”

“Why because Albert asked us to go with him to meet his boyfriend’s parents.”

“Albert and Ravi are dating?!”

“You didn’t know?”

“No?!”

“Edmundo, I need you to say sike.”

“First off, government name? Low bow, Howard. Second off, when did that happen?”

“Months ago, Diaz, months! Seriously, where have you been all this time?”

“Therapy,” Eddie answers, ignoring the last name drop. That makes Chim squint and take a hissing breath through closed teeth as he continues to struggle with his tie. “Whatever. Where are you guys going?”

“Some restaurant Albert and Ravi found. It’s not far from the station.”

“Well, don’t choke on any food and you should be golden. Good luck, anyway. They’ll love you guys.”

“Oh, I’m sure – we are very charming. Me, Maddie, and Albert, and the sheer amount of parental issues between the three of us. It’ll be peachy.”

Eddie truly feels for them, his personal experiences being not all that different. The one 118 and their trauma-bonding fuel.

He watches Chim finally win against his tie as he sits down on the couch, waiting for the couple to get ready.

“Hey, Eddie!” He hears Maddie’s voice come from behind the couch, he turns around to look at her. “Hey!” He says and stands back up to walk up to her. They greet each other with kisses on both cheeks.

“Thanks again for staying with the girls today.”

“I told you before, you don’t have to thank me every time. I’m happy to help.”

“Still. You know how it is with kids – everything can change any second, so, you’ve been godsent.”

“Yeah, it do be like that with them little critters. Love them to bits.”

Maddie smiles at him, her eyes closing as she does. Then her expression transitions into that of unsureness. Eddie wonders if she’s gonna say something about his abominable parenting skills or tell him to leave after all.

“I don’t know, uhm, if I should be telling you,” Maddie starts carefully.

Oh, here it goes. She doesn’t want you near the kids. Can’t blame her. Who would want you near their kids after what you’ve done to yours? 

“ I just wanted to let you know that I can imagine how you must be feeling right now. When I left, after Jee-Yun was born, I hated myself for leaving.” He sees her eyes start to shine with tears.”I thought she’d be better off without me. I was in such a horrible place mentally that I was sure I’d never make a good mother. I thought I had proof of that.” She looks away blinking, moving the hair out of her face, and taking a steadying breath. “I got help and I’m doing better, now. But I wasn’t back then and every day I felt like I was dying. I thought this feeling would swallow me whole and I’d be buried in it forever.” She looks up at him and puts both of her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. “And you know what? It didn’t. Sometimes, I’m worried I’ll mess this up. I’m terrified things will get worse again. That I can’t escape the reality of being a terrible mother.”

“Maddie, you are an incredible mom. When you left, you did this because you wanted what’s best for your daughter–”

“Yeah, I know, but still I’m scared I’ll hurt her, give her trauma beyond what my parents have given me and Buck. But us, parents, we are people, too. We will hurt our kids and they’ll hurt us. This is just a part of being a human. It’s how you show up after that counts. But we also can’t help our kids grow into their best selves if no one helps us along the way. So, Eddie, if you ever need help, don’t hesitate to call or text me, okay?”

Oh .

That’s what this is about. He isn’t being kicked out for his lack of guardian competence. He is being welcomed in with open arms despite his wrongness, his mistakes.

Any idea of how to respond to that gets lost the second it appears before Eddie gets a proper chance to consider it. 

So.

He hugs Maddie. Tight. And, when she hugs him back, he breathes out the air he has no idea how long he’s been holding.

“Eddie!” He hears a high-pitched voice call him. He ends the hug, looking at Maddie. He moves his lips in a silent “Thank you.” She smiles at him before they both turn to the sound of a little girl’s voice.

“Jee!” He greets her, rushing to pick her up and twirl her around before hugging her momentarily. “How’s my favorite girl today?”

“Good!” She responds, in a voice so adorable that Eddie’s heart aches.

“Good? That’s good. Good is good.” She giggles at him and starts moving around in his arms, trying to escape his hold. He lets her.

“You silly, Eddie.”

“Coming from you I’ll take it as a compliment.” He informs her fondly.

Jee tells Eddie she has something to show him, takes his index finger into her tiny hand, and leads him into her room. He sees Mara at the desk, hunched over clipped-together pieces of paper, when he enters. “Hey there!” he calls her. She turns around with a yellow highlighter in her hand and gives a “Shhh!” in return. He decides that if he wants to live peacefully, he needs to get the message she’s sending him.

 On the floor, countless drawings are scattered in a system only Jee understands. She lets go of his finger and excitedly wobbles to pick one up from the pile that seems to have most of her finished projects.

“Here.” She hands him a drawing of a brown dog wearing what seems to be a firefighter helmet. It has cartoonishly large dark eyes. “Uncle Buck told me to draw you as a puppy.”

“Did he?”

“He said you are sad. He wants to make you smile.” She declares and, as if to emphasize her point, smiles and points at her mouth with two small fingers.

Eddie is smiling back before he knows it.

“Thank you both for this beautiful drawing.” He tells her. “It makes me very happy.”

“Yay!” She yells and runs out of her bedroom.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief at just how adorable this girl is. He thinks Buck is, too. 

Maddie and Chim leave ten minutes after he arrives, somehow shifting between stressed and unbothered attitudes as they walk out the door. He wishes them good luck again and makes a promise to keep the girls safe and, if possible, mostly sane.

Mara comes out of the bedroom with two copies of the script in her hands and shoves one into his own. He looks down at the papers in his hands and up at Mara’s stubborn face, baffled. 

“Before we begin,” he says carefully. “I got you something.”

He walks off to pick up the bag he came in with, and takes something oddly shaped and wrapped in plastic out as he returns to where she’s standing with a look of patience being tested on her face. He gives her the package with less than hope-inducing words: “Frankensteined this myself.”

When she opens it a brown cowboy hat with two tall-standing mandible-eye hybrids painted green. 

“What is this supposed to be?”

“I figured since this is a play about cowboys in space bonding with aliens and if I remembered correctly one of them gets gifted a cowboy hat, I’d do the same but you can use this one as a prop.”

There’s a silence that falls. They spend it looking at each other in a guessing manner, trying to figure out what the other person is thinking. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Mara says, and had Eddie been even a few days younger, he would’ve taken this personally, instead he rolls his eyes and lets Mara be bratty.

“Okay. Remind me whose line you want me to say?”

“Everybody’s. Make sure you say them in different voices, though. I don’t want the other aliens to sound like Eddie, I want them to sound like aliens.”

How would I know what she wants the voice to sound like if she didn’t give me specifics? Eddie thinks but doesn’t say out loud, too scared of angering the gods of artistry. It’s something you are supposed to just know. An innate knowledge all good actors possess. He hears another voice say. Guess she was right, I wasn’t blessed with the gift of acting. He thinks in response.

He still gives her his best attempt at voice acting because he would hate to make her stress over his lack of artistic skills. He’s certain the kids in her drama club will make up for it once they rehearse together.

It takes them several hours to get through the script. Mara’s commentary on his parts is less vibrant than the last time. She’s taken pity on me. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. But one time she does claim that Jee-Yun should take his place as the voice of The Evil Fairy King – her mannerisms more authoritative than Eddie could ever master his own (“You look like a puppy barking at older dogs ten times its size, Eddie.”)

There goes his hope of getting through to his parents on the Chris matter using authority. He shouldn’t have even considered the option, it would’ve been easier to escape humiliation.

Jee’s schedule ends up being too packed to spare a few minutes for their rehearsal but it’s not like they could afford her rates (two servings of ice cream and fries) in the first place. Mara suggests they convince her to help them by playing a lineless character using bribery and haggling the price down to a milkshake. 

Eddie agrees. He could go for one, too. He desperately needs a break. I am not cut out for showbiz. 

He searches for the top milkshake places in LA and ends up with a long list of an overwhelming amount of choices. He opens an article listing the top fifty milkshake spots in the city.

“Girls! Pick a number from one to fifty!” He shouts to them when he notices that they’ve run off to their bedroom. There is no response for a few seconds, only muffled talking. 

“Forty-three!” They scream in unison and Eddie mentally prepares himself for the very possible outcome of ending the day in the company of his white porcelain friend, considering how low of a number they had chosen.

The place under that placement is on Sixth Street.

Luckily, they’ll be able to get there, order and drink their shakes, and come back before it gets too late. He hopes that Maddie doesn’t take his babysitting privileges back when she finds out the amount of sugar he’s about to let the girls have. It’s not like it’s a weekly thing, they’ll be fine. He thinks and realizes Mara is right. He needs to work on his authority levels.

He waits for the girls to get ready. Once they are he opens the door for them and tells them to get in the car while he closes the door with the newest addition to his keychain – the key to the Buckley-Han’s house. He tried giving it back to Maddie a few weeks back when he was about to leave their house after babysitting the girls but she looked at him like he had just murdered her family or at the very least attempted (“Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie. Keep the key.” She told him. “Okay. Sure. I will. I mean, I guess that makes sense for me to have it, in case girls want to go out. Wouldn’t want to leave your door open.” He responded and wished he had been better at guessing what people expected him to say because the look on Maddie’s face made him want to flee the country. “Eddie, that’s not the only reason I want you to keep it. You are family, you should have it.” The hurricane of thoughts that went through Eddie’s mind at that moment needs to be studied and given a name because it irreparably destroys the perception of how he thought people in his life saw him. He thanked Maddie for trusting him and only cried over the gesture when he put it on his keychain next to the other two he’d been carrying.)

The travel to the cafe Mara and Jee picked was quick, partly because there wasn’t much traffic on the roads, and partly because of the company he was in. They spent their way there humming the tune from Monsters Inc., which they’d watched the week before, and discussing their plan to do matching costumes from the movie for Halloween next year (Mara and Eddie agreed that Jee-Yun absolutely must go as Boo). 

They arrive at the spot, go in, and take the booth by the window. When he looks out of it, Eddie can make out a familiar sign between trees in the distance.

Mara and Jee get lost in all the options and Eddie stops them from ordering three different flavors each by agreeing they’ll take a few sips of each other’s shakes – white chocolate and berries for Eddie, Nutella for Mara, and banana for Jee.

A few minutes into waiting for their milkshakes, Jee-Yun gets bored and decides it’d be a fun idea to undo her two braids and turn them into one big braid. She struggles to keep track of which section of the hair goes where and asks Eddie for help. He almost feels grateful for all the times his folks made him a third parent to his baby sisters because if there’s one good thing that came out of it is his hair-braiding mastership. He does her hair not too tightly and secures it with one of her light-blue ribbons.

He opens the camera on his phone and snaps a few shots to show her the finished product. She seems pleased with the result and says he made her look pretty like a princess. He tells her she is prettier than all of the princesses combined. She reaches for the other ribbon and attempts to braid the hair of his fringe. 

“My hair is too short for a braid, Jee.”

She pouts and looks so devastated Eddie’s heart breaks. She doesn’t stay upset for long – an idea, seemingly, judging by the determination written on her face, popping into her head. She takes his wrist and tries to tie the ribbon around it, but that attempt is unsuccessful. Her face falls again. For the sake of both their hearts, Eddie tries to come up with a solution that’ll cheer her up. He thinks hard of where he can put Jee’s ribbon, idly playing with his necklace.

An idea springs to mind.

“Tell you what. I’ll tie it on my necklace chain, next to the medallion. That way it’ll keep me happy and safe. It’ll be my good luck charm.”

She gives him a huge smile and hugs him around his neck.

Eddie thinks he must have redeemed himself for his last parenting fiasco at least partly. There is no other explanation for the sudden surge of love he’s been receiving lately. 

He doesn’t complain. He can’t. Not when can almost say he’s happy for the first time in months.

He gets drunk on the feeling and doesn’t fight Jee’s late-stage case of puppy dog eyes when she asks him to switch milkshakes with her.

He thinks banana might be the best flavor.

                                                 ***

“I can’t believe we got lost here, again!”

“We are not lost, we just need a moment to find where to go.”

“Pretty sure that means we’re lost, Buck.”

“No, wait. Give me a second and I’ll-” he looks around, his eyes searching for something “There! Look, Eddie, it’s the same sign from last time! I knew we were on the right way!”

Eddie follows Buck’s hand gesturing at a tall lamppost. Surely enough, that’s the same sign from last time. They’re not lost after all.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“We gotta turn left here. I remember that.”

It is day 83 of life without Christopher and Eddie and Buck get lost again – predictably enough, looking for the same bar. A spot had opened to make a reservation for Halloween and since they were the only people available that day, they had been entrusted to go to talk through all the details of their party with the bar’s owners. 

They get ready to go separately and both ignore messages from Hen in their group chat about already regretting letting Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumber handle the matter. They are firefighters, that’s gotta be an indicator of competence.

Eddie thinks they would’ve stood a better chance at not messing this up, had it not been the two of them in charge of an event for eleven people.

Luckily, their temporary hurdle gets resolved quickly – courtesy of Buck’s part-decent photographic memory.

“Remind me again why we both had to go? I could’ve secured everything myself.”

“Are you calling me incompetent, Edmundo?”

“I’m not not calling you incompetent, Evan.”

“And here I thought you thought highly of me.”

“I don’t think of you.” Well, that’s a big fat lie. “I do think that you should leave event organizing to the more experienced member of the firehouse who happens to have a day off.” He shoots Buck a sly smile and gets a playfully annoyed look in return. “I mean, I did organize my sisters’ birthday parties and Christopher’s, too.”

“Kids are easy to impress. Dare I remind you who organized Chim’s bachelor party – the very same party that is, evidently, the only adult party you’ve been invited to?”

“You dick,” Eddie responds, pouting and rolling his eyes. In a flabbergasted manner, he responds. “Also? Easy? I don’t know what kids you can impress easily but those are not the same kids I had to plan parties for. Though, since you are basically the same age as your average preschooler, you have an advantage here.”

“Oi!” Buck yelps as he bumps into Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “Who’s being a dick now? You gotta admit, you enjoyed Chim’s bachelor’s, ay?”

He lets his eyes wander as he pretends to assess whatever few memories he still has of that night, which gets Buck riled up. He scoffs into Eddie’s ear. Eddie quickly moves his head as he lets out a sigh. “Fine! It wasn’t bad.”

Buck can’t believe his audacity and quickly stomps ahead.

Eddie just laughs light-heartedly at the familiar banter they fall into. He feels happy and content with the fact that they feel comfortable enough with each other to know when their “friendly” arguing crosses the line and when it's the very thing the other person needs to feel at peace and secure.

As he notices Buck slow down so Eddie can catch up to him – a sign of truce – he thinks he’ll do whatever it takes to keep falling into the comfortable banter with Buck for the rest of their lives.

Wonders, if Tommy offers Buck the ability to do the same.

He hopes to whoever that he doesn’t and takes a picture of the pavement under his feet when the complicated feeling this thought brings makes him want to jump out of his skin.

                                                   ***

Day 85 of living under a different roof from Chris will go down in history as the day he earns Christoper’s smile back.

They are on call when Eddie tells him about a call they had earlier that day. 

“So we finally get this girl’s parrot back into his cage and as we pack up to leave, we notice a movie that kept playing the entire time we chased that forsaken bird. Buck said he recognized the actress. He thought it was Natalie Portman from those pirate movies – something about Blackbeard. I told him he was stupid – that was clearly Keira Knightley from the Marvel stuff – anyway, we kept arguing through the next two calls until Chim couldn’t handle it anymore and found a way to contact the girl with the parrot. She gave him the name of the movie and it turned out that both Buck and I are equally blind and out of the loop on pop culture because neither of them was in the movie.”

He only raises his eyes to look at Chris – having been focused on the skin lines on his hands the entire – once he’s done telling the story.

He almost feels blessed when he does because he is gifted with a glimpse of a smile being suppressed on his son’s face. The shift is a gone-in-a-blink quick but to Eddie, it’s enough to get him through the night.

                                                  ***

Day 101 of establishing a new routine that would keep his relationship with Chris functional is a heavy one.

It starts with therapy in the morning before work – he is surprised Frank offers such early hours without asking for increased compensation for wasting the time he could’ve spent asleep and wonders if Frank has a therapist of his own – and ends with wishing results of his therapy were linear.

“I just kind of always thought that whatever people thought of me was true. I always took it as a given. Oh, you think I’m this and that? Sure, I guess I am. Not like I can prove you wrong,” Eddie presents an example of what the reality of his upbringing was like about thirty minutes into this session. “People would create versions of who I was in their heads and I didn’t always know when to take that with a grain of salt. So, I just trusted them on that. Especially with my parents, that has always been – and still is – a common occurrence.” He reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him and takes a sip before he continues, “I guess it was just easier to assume that since they were my parents they knew me better than I did, that’s what I’ve been taught. So, I barely even questioned if their version of who I was ever complied with my true self. Sometimes. I’d get this nagging feeling, almost of disappointment, an ache in my chest when they’d introduce me to people in certain ways. I assumed – if I ever had even thought about it properly – that it was just me being awkward. Now, I think it was my body telling me that I was afraid and uncomfortable with the way they pictured me. I should’ve said something but I had nothing to say that wasn’t vague.”

“Eddie. I have a question for you. When you felt those uncomfortable sensations what were they like?”

He digs for memories in his head. When he uncovers them, they quickly take on a life of their own, rummaging through his body, and making a mess of his insides. The sensations of the past feel abruptly real and present like he’s reliving them all at once. 

“Uhm,” he informatively begins, “they felt like the new reality that I wasn’t in on. It was this feeling I got whenever I had received bad news or unexpectedly low grades. It’s like my stomach would drop and I’d get shivers. I was scared that maybe my parents, and people around us, could see the real me that I couldn’t. That they saw the me that I was terrified to be not because he was an awful person but because what they saw in me was an ominous, destined version I’d never be able to run away from. That no matter what I did and wanted to do, was and wanted to be, it would turn out to have been irrelevant. Because, eventually, I’d end up as what I have always been meant to be. Something I’d have no say in.” He takes another sip of water. “I don’t know if this makes any sense to you. It’s a strange thing. But, uhm, I think that despite being mortified by that vague picture of me, I still did everything people expected from me. It was better than having to deal with their anger and disappointment, which was twice as mortifying. I just wanted everyone to be happy”

“Let me ask you this. Has pleasing people ever pleased them?”

He loses all ability to speak there and then, too stunned by the bluntness and sharpness of the question cutting the membrane of all the things he used to tell himself, through the tricks his mind has been feeding him, and the games it has been playing.

“No, I don’t think so. Not in a sustainable way.”

“What I want you to work on is practicing saying ‘no’ and standing your ground. How does this sound for homework?”

Eddie nods.

The opportunity to practice his latest assignment presents itself earlier than wishes – the very same night on the call with his son.

They begin the call the same way they do every week – by making a short digest of everything that has happened since the previous call. This week Christopher tells him about a movie he’d gone to watch with his new friends and having a sleepover at his grandparents’ house – Eddie tries not to show the mix of envy of the treatment his son’s been receiving and anger for his own younger self that wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers growing up. Eddie tells Christoper about the calls the 118 has attended in the past week and that he and Buck had gotten lost for the second time on the same path.

This call feels different now that Eddie has made progress in getting back on Christopher’s good side. This time around Chris no longer avoids eye contact. So Eddie gets braver.

They end up talking for an hour and when Helena comes in to end the call he asks her to stay.

There’s something he’s been meaning to talk to her about.

“Hey, mom. So, sleepover, huh? That’s new for you.” He doesn’t intend his words to come out as passive-aggressive. That’s a lie. He absolutely does. Forgive him for being upset. 

Helena nods with a slight smile but doesn’t say a word.

“Well, I’m glad. I think it’ll be good for him.” He takes a long breath before he picks up. “I wanted to talk to you. It won’t take long. I was just wondering if maybe it’s time Chris came home.”

“He is home.” This short reply makes Eddie’s heart fall into his stomach and drown in its acid.

“I home here, in LA.”

“Well, Eddie, I’m not sure he’s ready. With what you’ve done it’s going to take a while before I can talk to him about this.”

Did he hear that right? Is she making this about herself?

“Before you can talk to him about it? Mom, it’s not your conversation to have. It should be between me and Christopher. I’m his parent, I’m the one with the final word. I’m setting boundaries here. I think he should come back. It’s not right for him to stay in El Paso this long.”

“No, Eddie, you shouldn’t be making this decision. I don’t want you to drag him down with you. With everything you’ve put him through, how can you be sure that this is what’s best for him?” 

“Because I have been a parent longer than I’ve been a child!”

He snaps and curses himself for it. Not the way to show his mother he’s stable. But he can’t close the gate that’s opened.

“I have been a parent since I was ten years old! I called 9-1-1 when you were in labor. I took Adri and Soph to school! I picked them up from it! I was there for every school event, every performance, every first crush, and every broken heart! I made them breakfast they actually wanted to eat. I gave them my pocket money so they could buy lunch they’d eat and never took the lunches you made from them in case they were still hungry or couldn’t find anything they’d enjoy.

“Sure, you were present for them more than you’ve ever been for me. You actually liked them. I was your constant disappointment. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I could never please you!

“And now with Christopher, seeing how you treat him like he’s your golden baby makes me sad. It makes me angry.”

“I don’t see why it does. You should be happy to see him being treated well.”

“Because I was your baby first, Mom!” The pain he’s kept hidden for years, never daring to speak it, comes out of his mouth in real-time and for some reason, he feels like he’s watching himself on TV, like he’s not the one saying any of this. “But you never treated me as such! I’ve always been the third parent in this family. And now you have the nerve to criticize my parenting? My choices? I messed up! I messed up badly! I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done to Christopher. For how much I’ve hurt him. Forgive me for acting like a child, I’ve never been one of those, I wouldn’t know when I’m being childish.”

He sighs, looking at his mother like a beggar asking to be treated humanely by those with power. By the expression his mother masters up, the conversation is pointless – she is about to announce herself as the victim.

Eddie is not having that. He will not let her have his pity.

“He’s been in El Paso too long, he needs to come home. That’s my final word. Good night.”

He ends the call before hearing her out.

The feeling that takes over his body is confusing – it is both freeing and imprisoning in ways he hasn’t grown enough as a person to comprehend. He just hopes this temporary setback in his therapy progress in the shape of snapping didn’t set him back beyond repair. He doesn’t think he’ll handle going back to square one. 

His phone vibrates and that gets him out of his headspace.

A message from Chris pops up and Eddie, against his better judgment, pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

His text reads:

helena seems pissed

whatever you did, thank you
this is the best entertainment ive had in weeks

This is the first time Chris has texted him on his own volition. (Luckily for Eddie, it’s not the last. In the weeks to follow, they’ll fall into a habit of texting each other throughout the days.)

Eddie spends a good couple of minutes staring at the messages on his screen. He looks at Christopher’s contact name and picture and doesn’t feel like they’re real. More like he’s in a first-person point-of-view game and everything is happening on a large screen. 

He types and deletes his response about ten times and even considers leaving an emoji reaction instead of an actual text reply.

                                                                                 You are welcome, buddy.

Is what he settles for.

The things Eddie feels can only be measured by taking a screenshot.

                                                       ***

“I went to church today.” This is what Eddie starts his therapy session with 111 days into Chris being away.

“You’ve never mentioned being religious before.”

“It’s because I’m not,” Eddie responds curtly. He lets out a sigh as he looks up at Frank. Eddie’s face screws up in disgust, hurt, and anger. Frank lets him collect his thoughts, and after a moment of doing exactly that, and feeling like a teenager that has done something wrong because he raised his voice, he continues. “I’m not sure I believe in God… or universe, or some other metaphysical higher power but… but sometimes it feels like if there’s something greater out there then that something definitely hates me . It feels like it has a personal grudge against me specifically, which makes me feel like shit because why would I ever even think that’s true- I mean - Im, not that special so why am I acting so selfish? Why do I think I’m the only person in the world that the universe or- or God is mad at?!” He looks quizzically at Frank, hoping to see some kind of answer, an explanation, in his eyes, or formed on his lips, or somewhere on his face… but Eddie finds nothing there. 

“So what were you doing near a church?”

“My therapist told me going on walks could help me feel better so…”

Frank smiles. He knows he hasn’t made it easy on him, after all, therapy rarely helps unless you’re putting in the work and actually doing what your therapist tells you to.

“So I was on my way back from Buck’s loft. We decided to grab beers and watch a movie at his place last night after our shift and I ended up staying the night. I couldn’t stay long earlier today because he agreed to babysit his niece at his sister’s place. If I’m honest I wasn’t ready to go back to an empty house so I decided to take a walk.” He looks around the office, evasive of Frank’s gaze. “I didn’t plan on walking this long, kinda got lost in the thoughts, I didn’t even realize I had been walking for over an hour when I passed a church. This wasn’t a conscious choice, it’s not my scene.” 

“Growing up, was your family religious?” Frank asks.

“Not specifically. We were but not as religious as the majority of our neighbors were. I mean, we did go to church most Sundays, not because our faith was strong but mostly because most people around us did. It was a custom where we lived. My parents did– do believe in God, but even though they weren’t fanatics, there was still this constant pressure to conform, follow the Word of God, read the Bible, and honor sacred rules, places, and traditions. So I did. Then I just kind of stopped doing that and going with them.”

“Do you remember why?”

“Huh?”

“Do you remember why you stopped attending church?”

“Not really...” He shakes his head, his eyes squinting as he tries to recall anything that might answer Frank’s question. “I mean I never liked going there. The only reason I went in today was because some girl was looking for someone and yelled out a name and…” he breathes in sharply “God, this is so stupid. She yelled out the name Shannon. I don’t know, I guess my heart sank and I just froze there for a second.” He bites his lips, scrunches his nose, shakes his head, and smiles a bittersweet smile. “I’m not usually one to believe in signs or synchronicities, or anything superstitious like that - you can ask any of colleagues -  but…I wanted this to be a sign from her so badly that I just went in.” There are individual tears falling down his cheeks that he purposefully ignores. He covers his mouth with his hand, runs his fingers over his lips, thumb under his chin, and his index finger brushes against his growing mustache, nails painfully grazing cracked lips.

“I used to believe in signs. Years ago, during my reconciliation with Shannon, I even asked for one. About our family. And then she told me she was pregnant.” His lips tremble, and his eyes move around never stopping on one object. “I thought we could be a family again, of four this time. She told me she wasn’t pregnant.” He pauses, whimpers coming out under his breath as he fights back the tears in one last attempt. “Then she dies.” He squeezes his shut and breaks down in a silent cry. His teeth are clenched so tightly that his jaw is starting to hurt. His face is scrunched in voiceless agony. He spends the next what feels like forever neglecting the ache in his chest and trying to collect pieces of himself back into a shape that makes sense.

 “This felt like a sign.” He says.  From her. He leaves out. “So I walked closer. As soon as I did, I knew I probably shouldn't have. There was a wedding there, and I’m positive I didn’t know either of the grooms, I mean one of them looked sorta familiar but… I couldn’t. Something stopped me from taking those steps to leave. I don’t know what it was. I actually even took a photo there, it’s nothing really, just the backs of people in the crowd, and the two grooms in the distance, you can’t see their faces. Anyway…” he stops, allowing himself to breathe and collect his thoughts before he continues. 

“All I could do was just stand there and watch the ceremony I wasn’t even invited to” He stops again, abruptly this time, while the room around him starts spinning so fast, that he needs to take a few quick breaths to make sure he doesn’t throw up on the carpet. I mean one of them looked sorta familiar.

Oh.

Oh.

He remembers. Suddenly Eddie remembers . 

He remembers why one of the grooms seemed familiar. He remembers that the groom’s name is Sam. He remembers thinking Sam was his best friend. 

He remembers being six and holding his best friend’s hand in his. He remembers feeling things towards his best friend that he was told he would one day feel for girls. He remembers feeling things towards his best friend that he was already expected to feel for girls.

 He remembers being seven and marrying Sam in a game of play-pretend. 

He remembers being eight and told that as a man he is not supposed to touch other men with so much gentleness. 

He remembers being nine and his parents acting weird when he told them he thought that Sam was pretty. 

He remembers being ten and his and Sam’s parents yelling at each other after they saw Sam kiss Eddie on the cheek to calm him, to soothe the pain he felt after he had fallen off his bicycle. 

He remembers being ten and seeing Sam’s parents pack their things into their car and leave El Paso with Sam in the back seat, staring out the rear windshield with confusion on his face and tears in his eyes, and his hand waving Eddie goodbye .

He remembers being ten and being told he had to be the man of the house. He remembers being ten and pulled aside, told to step up. Be the man of the house. Remembers being expected to be strong, to avoid anything that would make him look weak – that would make him look 

queer.

  “Eddie, are you with me?” Frank’s voice cuts through to him, helping him get back into the present moment right before he’s too far gone into his dissociation. 

“Sorry?”

“There you are.” his therapist says, his lips forming into a relieved smile. “For a moment, it felt like you went somewhere. You seemed lost in your thoughts. Is it anything you would like to share?”

Does he want to share? Is it something he should share? Those memories so long abandoned, he’s still not entirely over the sudden epiphany. He knows the memories are real like he knows his name. “I- I think I might be gay.” There’s no other way to say this, so he says it bluntly, and somewhat absent-mindedly.

He gets no response from Frank, just sees him smile a knowing, understanding even, smile and give Eddie a short nod.

“I think I’m gay,” Eddie says again, his voice low, quiet, but a little more certain than mere seconds ago. “What the fuck do I do?”

***

The days that follow Eddie’s big gay revelation look the same at first. He wakes up with a weird hollow feeling in his chest. He gets up and goes to the bathroom without giving his actions much thought, the robotic nature of which is nothing Eddie isn’t used to. He washes his face and picks up the bottle of shaving gel but decides against shaving last second. 

The realization is hanging in the air around him, it follows him everywhere he goes like a puppy following its owner around, wanting to be seen but also learning and observing. He goes to work and it follows him there too. He helps people and it’s right there floating above him. He eats lunch with the 118 and he can feel its presence all around him so clearly he can’t finish his plate. He goes home and tries to wash it off, tries to wash it away, and for a second thinks he did, but then it comes back stronger than before and now he can’t breathe. 

He slides down the wall into his bathtub, covers his eyes with his hands, and just sits there, and lets the water run over his knees and down his legs. He can feel the water drops in the hair above his upper lip as the palms of his hands cling to his face. He takes shallow breaths that slowly turn into a breathing exercise. As his breathing steadies, he feels grateful for all the times Frank pushed him out of his comfort zone with his constant reminders to control his breathing. 

He sits there, in his bathtub, allowing himself to feel. He feels the water on his lower body. He feels the warmth of the water soothe him. He feels his eyelashes flatter against his fingers. He feels the way his growing facial hair scratches the skin of his palms, making them itch. 

He listens to the sound of running water, noting in the back of his mind that the next water bill is going to hurt his wallet but he allows himself the luxury this once. He hears the air he breathes in. He hears the air he breathes out. He notices his airways aren’t clear.

He sees the darkness of his closed eyes change into whatever images his mind supplies. He sees his parents looking down at him and saying something with annoyance on their faces. The images merge with the darkness, the blackness of which is an odd cold shade. He sees his childhood home and his sisters playing house with him. He sees himself playing with Adriana’s dolls and Sophia’s hairclip with a bright pink bow glued to it in his hair. The happy memories make his stomach turn and fade into a brownish shade of black and he can taste acidic bitterness in his mouth. He tries not to see the memory of Sam’s soft hands catching his, too afraid of how those memories will play with his psyche if allowed. He moves to his first date with Shannon, to their first time, to her telling him she’s pregnant. He remembers Christopher’s birth. The images of his last year as a teen intertwine with the misty greyish-black of the darkness in his mind. He tries to skip through the fragments of his tours in Afghanistan. A flash of pure white breaks through the darkness, staggering him. He notices the memory of being awarded a Silver Star in the fast stream of images. Another explosion of white makes him move his head fast in an attempt to shake it off. All those moments flash in his mind’s eye, each one melting into the next so quickly, that they turn into one long film-looking memory. The raven-black color enshrouds him, making his already unsteady breathing catch in his throat, his eyes water, and his ears buzz. 

Then he sees the blurry image of Christopher’s photograph he kept in his wallet that changes into the one of his St. Christopher medallion. 

Something changes. The black starts looking brighter and more blue. The memories of his past no longer make his head feel heavy and his ears hurt from the static noise. Instead, his whole body feels lighter. That’s when more memories of Chris start flowing into his consciousness, settling in there like they’ve found a perfect place to grow roots.

 He sees Christopher in their El Paso house, with milk spilled over his freshly washed shirt because he was in a hurry to go see the neighbors’ new dog. He sees Christopher wake up in bed next to him, remembering the both of them falling asleep the night before in the middle of Eddie reading his son a bedtime story. The blue color blends, even more, with the black, each imagery equivalent to a drop of paint. He sees Christopher in the rear-view mirror of his car as he drives them away from El Paso and into their new shared life in Los Angeles. He sees his son surrounded by everyone in the 118, sees him surrounded with love he was certain didn’t exist only months before becoming a probationary firefighter at his station. He sees himself hugging Bobby tightly as a way of showing his gratitude for allowing Chris to spend the day with them.

He sees a lighter, still greyish-blue color, now.

Then he sees Buck. Sees his smile, his birthmark, and his blue eyes, and he swears he can almost hear his laughter, too. He sees Buck with his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a frown on his first day at the station. He sees Buck telling him he could have his back any day with a goofy expression on his face. The color changes once again, the blue now mixing with green undertones. 

He also sees him in his house, next to Chris, as the two of them play video games. Eddie sees a blurry, faint vision of Buck covered in red on top of him in an ambulance, and physically shakes the memory away, but still thinks Buck looks beautiful. Welcomes a memory of Buck challenging him to ‘go for the title’, instead. There are two colors now, the greenish blue welcoming a new light-bluish purple shade. He sees Buck’s puzzled face at the mention of the will. He sees all the memories of Buck in technicolor, watches them form into one bright picture, and observes them intertwine with the memories he has of Chris.

The darkness of all the shades of black that had had him submerged in anxiety now fully washed away, letting the cerulean and lavender colors calm him down. They help him shift the focus off the remains of uncomfortable perpetual noise in his ears and mind, making his face relax, the tingling in his fingers that he hadn’t noticed until now slowly fading away.

He slowly opens his eyes, his body feeling tired but lighter than before. He sits there a while longer, allowing himself to look before him, the white of the bathtub too bright and blinding for his accustomed to the dark eyes.

He gets up and steps out of the bathtub, doesn’t bother drying himself with a towel, and walks out of the room to get his camera.
He takes a picture of his bathtub, half-full of lukewarm water, with the tap still running. He sets the camera aside on the closed hamper and hops back into the bathtub to wash his body properly.  He gets out of the tub again, finally uses the towel, considers shaving but ends up only washing his face, and puts on a fresh set of pajamas. As he brushes his teeth, he allows himself to feel the weight of exhaustion he’s accumulated from thinking, seeing, and listening he had just done. The side effects of his big gay revelation can wait until tomorrow, right now he wants to sleep more than he has ever wanted to, and all of his forty-eight-hour shifts, along with Halloween and Q-word shifts taken into account.

***

  Eddie thinks he might be homophobic. Which is an inconvenient development, considering his status as a freshly out-of-repression homosexual. Maybe, putting it this way is too soon, he still very much tries to argue that had he been gay, he would’ve figured it out by now. The argument is solid, in his opinion, up until he remembers Michael Grant, and that kickstarts the rusty cogs in the part of his brain he tried to bury. 

He puts his extra Canon battery to charge and almost buys a photo album for all the confusion-infused photos he is about to start taking.

What makes him think he might be homophobic is the flood of unwanted thoughts he gets swept into. He gets them when, all of a sudden, he starts seeing gay couples everywhere, each one of them making his blood go cold. Why do I feel uncomfortable seeing them? Am I secretly homophobic and am just finding out? But I love Hen and Karen. I don’t have any problem with their relationship so why am I being weirded out by two people holding hands? What if I am not actually gay myself? What if I am some pervert objectifying lesbians? But I am not interested in either of them so I can’t be a perv… Why am I even thinking about my lesbian friends in this context? What is wrong with me? Maybe I am secretly perverted and I’m only now finding out. Maybe, I shouldn’t hang out with Hen in case there’s something wrong with me and I hurt her…

He gets those thoughts when he recalls seeing Buck and Tommy share a kiss when the three of them hung out two months ago. Why do I feel nauseous thinking about Buck kissing a man? I know I’m proud of him for coming out and I know there’s nothing wrong with being bisexual. I know there’s nothing wrong with a man liking another man. Maybe I am not gay… Maybe I am actually a disgusting bigot? If I was truly gay or an ally, I wouldn’t be feeling like this? I wouldn’t be having these thoughts in the first place. 

I feel like I’m losing my mind.

So Eddie, like any other person fearing there’s something wrong with them, starts googling his thoughts and discovers what intrusive thoughts truly are.

He thanks the changes that happened in the Psychology field since he was a child for saving him from isolation in fear of being a monster in disguise.

He can finally get back to making progress through photography.

 Eddie doesn’t mind taking pictures to express his feelings because it’s safer than the oral alternatives. It’s similar to writing out whatever it is that he’s going through in a text or on paper instead of saying it out loud. It’s safe; you can get the uncomfortable out of your system without opening your mouth. Without fully acknowledging it. Without making it fully real. What a nice deal it is—opening up, incorporating a healthy coping mechanism, and accepting the issue all from a safe distance. All without having to get vulnerable. 

That’s exactly what leads him to take a few dozen photos over the two weeks that follow his midlife sexuality crisis. He captures the things that make him feel unnamed feelings in hopes that if he looks at them again and again later on, he’ll eventually understand what the feeling that the thing made him experience is. He ends up photographing his hopes and worries, his jealousy and envy, his confusion and unwanted thoughts that make him question his moral compass and induce fear, all through immortalizing the posters and billboards he sees, the queer-friendly cafe displays he can’t stop looking at, and the religious protesters with their offensive signs, that show just how ignorant they are, that he passes on his walk.

Revisiting his past relationships to look for signs of his homosexuality that might have been there comes naturally. He thinks of the romantic encounters that happened to him after Shannon’s death and starts seeing patterns there. The most prominent one – following someone else’s heart. In every woman he’s dated, he looked for something that Chris would like about her. He searched for a mother figure, someone who’d make his son feel happier. 

The more he thinks, the deeper he digs, the more obvious it becomes that any amount of happiness he felt in those relationships was related to seeing his baby enjoying his childhood… related to him having a family. Eddie’s personal well-being wasn’t at the front of his mind. In his mind not hating somebody’s company equaled liking them.

He’s not sure what feelings he felt towards those women. 

But he does know this:

 Every time he thought of dating, sharing his life with any of them, it felt like getting trapped in the LA summer heat – sweating, wanting to rip off his skin, dehydrated, on the verge of delusion, irritated, on edge, panicking because no matter how hard he tried to adapt to it, he always ends up exhausted and nauseous.

                                                      ***

Some time (around day 120 or so of missing Christopher) in the middle of Eddie marinating in his homosexual awakening, Buck invites him to the loft for dinner, beers, and a round or two of whatever new video game he wanted them to check out. Eddie is grateful his best friend seems to have some telepathic connection to him because he receives the invitation at the exact moment he thinks he might genuinely lose his mind overthinking the events of his life through this newly gained lens.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately. Everything okay? Is it—“ he hesitates. Chris? Eddie guesses. Eddie wishes it was just him missing his son. At least that he’s had time to adjust to. He still feels Christopher’s absence every second, so Buck isn’t wrong in assuming, but there’s so much more happening right now. “Is it Chris?” He finally asks. “Is he okay?”

“He is. Yeah. We talked the other day… he seemed well.”

“Is it all right?”

“That my son is doing well? Of course it is.”

“That’s– not what I meant, Eddie. I meant is it all right with you? I know you want what’s best for him but I bet it’s tough seeing him doing well away from you.”
“Yeah, well, nothing I can do about it other than allow it and give him space, you know.”

“I get it. I’m just worried.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, staring at Buck like he’s speaking a different language.

“What? Is it that hard to believe I’m worried about you? Because there’s a firehouse full of people, medical records, and staff at multiple hospitals to back me up on this.”

“Okay. Okay. I get it. I know you care, Buck. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m handling this...”

“I just noticed you’ve been off for over a week now and I can’t help but worry, Eddie. You are my best friend and I want you to be able to talk to me about stuff that’s bothering you. And I also know you’ve got a lot on your plate at the moment.”

“Buck, we’ve all got a lot on our plate right now – Hen and Karen are trying to figure out a way to get their foster care license reinstated, Chim and Maddie have one more kid to take care of, which is difficult with the schedule like ours, and Cap and Athena have no home of their own to come back to after work. We’re all going through a lot.  I’m not special.”

“You are to me.”

Okay. That’s— that’s not something either of them has stated so outwardly before. He can ponder it later. 

“Anyway, uhm, what’s– what's been going on with you lately? How are things with Tommy?” He raises his eyebrows and shoots Buck a stupid, suggestive smile.

“Uhm… we broke up. I mean, I broke up with him.”

“What? When?”

“About a week ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I know. I know. Again, I didn’t want to burden you with my less-than-promising love life update.”

“I thought things were going better with you two.”

“Ugh, so did I. Until they weren’t.”

There’s a pause. Eddie observes Buck as he takes out the big wooden spoon he had been stirring the chili with, a small amount of it still in the spoon's bowl. He watches Buck take it to his mouth, taste testing. He considers the flavor for a moment and reaches to grab a box of unsweetened cocoa powder, with a smaller metal spoon already in it. He adds one teaspoon of the powder and stirs again.

“It’s okay. You can ask.” Buck says, taking him out of his distracted state and making Eddie jump in his spot. But he doesn’t answer; he just tilts his head, perking an eyebrow, trying to convince them both that he has no idea what the other man is talking about.

“Oh, please. You know I know you better than this, go ahead – you can ask what happened.”

“What happened?”

“We weren’t a good match. Too different. Not to mention he reminded me of my parents.”

Eddie grimaces. Did he hear that right?

“No. Not– like that.” He points a finger at Eddie after every word and smirks. “Just… I don’t know. He kept telling me things like when to go to bed and left comments about what I should and shouldn’t do, it felt like he was babying me. So patronizing it felt condescending. Which is unsettling on its own but he kept getting annoyed when I was acting ‘childish’”. And he barely listened when I’d talk about my Wikipedia deep-dives.”

“Wow, that’s a low blow. You love reading about things, I can recall multiple times when that stuff saved our asses, hell, even our lives!”

“Yeah, no, he didn’t appreciate that. Also, do you remember when my leg was acting up a couple of weeks ago?”

“Mhm.”

“He went to the hospital with me. They told me to rest and take a break, and when I asked the doctors when I could return to work Tommy looked at me like I was insane. He got real mad.”

Who gets mad over a thing like that? Sure, he has experienced Buck’s relentless attempts to get back to work after the fire truck crash firsthand. And when he thinks about it too long, he can see how his own acting back then could’ve made it seem like he was mad too. Maybe he was, but he was mainly concerned and scared. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing Buck to his eagerness and selflessness. He truly admires those parts of his friend, he thinks they are some of the many things he loves the most about him.

He doubts that this is the same kind of mad Buck is talking about.

He wants nothing more than for Tommy Kinard to choke on his ego.

“He was the one being crazy. You love this job. I learned the hard way not to get in the way between you and work.”

“Right?! He didn’t know me at all. But I guess it wasn’t even all that that made me break it off with him.”

“Then what was?”

Buck is putting grated cheese into a small glass bowl when Eddie asks him the question. 

“It’s stupid.” Buck pauses, wiping hands with a towel. “He kept calling me Evan .”

“You hate being called Evan.” He responds immediately. 

“I know! I mean, I don’t mind when you guys call me that. Hen, Bobby, and Chim almost never do but you and Maddie have and I didn’t mind that. You both know me and I know that you’d never use it to scold me like my parents did. He didn’t know that. I tried telling him but he said it was childish to project old parental grudges onto our relationship.”

”I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to him about it. Assumed, you were okay with him calling you that.”

Buck continues arranging their chili toppings into small bowls as he responds. 

“It wasn’t your job. I mean. I could’ve said something earlier, too.”

“It’s a touchy subject for you and you told him when you did anyway. It’s on him for acting like a douche about it. He has no idea what he lost.”

He looks Buck in the eyes and puts his hand on his shoulder, running his thumb over it in soft motions. This makes Buck’s frown turn upside down. 

“Thanks.” He says quietly. “Now!” This time his voice is loud in Eddie’s ear and he moves his head away rapidly. “You gotta tell me what you think about this!” He picks up the wooden chili spoon again and scoops some of the stew for Eddie to taste. He blows on it so it’s not too hot and moves it closer to Eddie’s lips. He observes, almost studies Eddie as he opens his mouth and slurps the chili. Eddie looks at Buck, at his eyes, and then at his lips as he chews the meat and beans, a strange feeling bubbles up in his stomach that’s definitely not chili’s fault. Then he feels a swipe of a finger in the corner of his mouth. The bubbling sensation in his stomach starts brewing stronger.

“Ah. Sorry. You got some sauce there.” Buck says, showing him the red smudge of tomato sauce on the tip of his thumb. “What do you think? Is there enough salt? Or too much?”

Eddie blinks himself out of the trance state he just realized he had fallen into. “It’s delicious. I wouldn’t mind eating your cooking every day. God knows I suck at that. You should just come live with me at this point before I starve to death.”

What the actual fuck? Poise yourself, Diaz. Where’s the decorum? You might be gay now but do you have to be a moron about it, too?? Fuck’s sake…

“I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Says Buck. And thank fuck he does because Eddie could feel himself starting to look stupid. “I’ll think about the invite.”

“You should,” Eddie begins, trying to play it cool. “I think it’ll be good for you to, you know, stay single and hang out with the boys.” 

No. He absolutely fucking can’t not be a moron about it, apparently.

“HA-HA! And how did that work out for me last time?”

Eddie is glad Buck doesn’t seem weirded out by his antics.

“Point taken. Can we eat now? Or I’ll starve here and now instead.”

“Yessir!” He hears Buck exclaim and shakes his head.

Luckily, Eddie’s newly discovered identity as a moron doesn’t make Buck freak out, and Eddie manages to play it off as their normal jokes and teasing.

As he picks up the bowls for them, he catches a glimpse of Buck licking the tip of his thumb. He's certain it’s the same one he’d wiped the sauce with off Eddie’s face. 

They set the cutlery on the table and crack open their beers. As they eat, Buck talks about his latest babysitting gig with Jee-Yun and Eddie tells him about helping Mara with her Halloween school play about cowboys in space, the antichrist, and evil fairies.

Once they are finished with their food, they put the dishes away into the dishwasher, open two more bottles of beer, and sit down on Buck’s couch.

“You said you had a new game to show me,” Eddie mentions.

“I did?”

“Mhm. Pretty sure you did.”

“I lied.”

O-k? Why would he lie about that?! Eddie’s perplexed. He can’t think of a reason for Buck to lie about a video game… Unless this is some kind of an intervention set-up. In which case, he thinks, he’ll make something up to bullshit his way out of it. Not today.

“Okay? Is there an old one you wanted to play or?”

“I don’t want to play any games. I was actually hoping you’d watch something with me.”

“Buck, if it’s a documentary, let’s watch it another time. My brain is kinda fried at the moment.”

“Relax. It’s not a documentary.”

“Okay?”

“It’s a telenovela.”

There’s a pause. Eddie’s not sure he heard him right. A what? 

“I love those.” He manages, almost a whisper.

“I know you do.” 

‘I know you’ is what he means.

Oh.

Oh.

I love you. 

I love you. Eddie thinks. 

It’s less of a lightbulb moment and rather growing into the fact that has always been a part of who he is. The “when you know, you know” moment everyone talks about – something he once considered a worldwide urban legend. But that’s exactly what is happening to him. To say he is realizing his feelings for his best friend would be inaccurate, on the border of misleading. 

This isn’t a realization. It’s an understanding.

The love he has for Buck is a seed that was planted in the soil of his being on day one, growing into a fruit tree so big it fills every corner and crack of his soul, its roots buried so deep they become one with his core. Its trunk is the trust they’ve cultivated, each fruit hanging from the branches of the timeline of their bond is a version of Eddie that loves a version of Buck, their abundance merging into a monument of devotion – a solid proof that all of Eddie loves all of Buck. 

His love for Buck is this grand thing. 

But it also isn’t.

His love for Buck is also quiet, ever-present, and soothing. It’s settled in the moments of domesticity – in shared dinners, in falling asleep on the other person’s couch quicker than either of them ever could in their own bed. It’s in the cold beers, the brand of which usually only one of them likes, always bought with quantities big enough for two in mind.

His love for Buck resides in the banter and teasing. It follows him everywhere in the form of an apartment key hanging next to the one to his house. It’s in the feeling of being at home in the orbit of the other, of never being a guest in the other’s life.

It’s in listening to Buck’s endearing info dumps about anything and everything. He loves listening to Buck talk and thinks that even the most excruciatingly boring subjects are suddenly the most interesting, life-changing things he’s ever heard because it’s Buck who is sharing them. 

It’s in letting Chris know Buck’s address and phone number. It’s in the matching outfits they wore for their friend’s bachelor’s party. It’s in getting an Uber.

Eddie’s home is full of Buck – his clothes are in the closet, his toothbrush is right there next to Eddie’s and Christopher’s. The Hildy coffee maker he got Eddie as a prank makes the best coffee and Eddie takes good care of the machine so it serves him for as long as possible (because the coffee tastes like Buck). Pictures of the three of them are stuck to his fridge with a cow-shaped magnet he and Chris bought Eddie as an early birthday gift at the zoo (“What animal do you think your dad would be?” “Hmm, I think he kinda looks like a baby cow.”)

More often than Eddie can count, he wants Buck to stay with him longer each time he comes over and wants to be at Buck’s loft for as long as possible, too, often coming up with excuses and taking too much time getting ready to leave to extend his visit.

Subconsciously, Eddie has been building his life with Buck in mind for the past six years. The odd possibility of his partner one day not being a part of his family never once crossed his mind – too ridiculous to entertain. Even death couldn’t do them part.

Eddie’s love for Buck is in long, relaxed stares, in the admiration of his mind, his inner and outer beauty, in the warmth of his presence.

Eddie’s love for Buck is in forgiveness and acceptance.

Eddie’s love for Buck is in his will.

I’m in love with you. Eddie thinks. 

Of course, he’s in love with Buck. He should’ve seen this one coming. This should’ve been obvious.

He half-expects this knowledge to worsen his recent sexuality freak-out but it doesn’t. His homosexuality, too, is something he probably should’ve discovered sooner but unlike his feelings for Buck, it made him question everything he’s ever thought his life to be. It’s a fundamental part of himself that he had no idea existed for most of his life because the one chance he got to discover it was unfairly taken away from him before he could reach out to grab it. Whereas his love for Buck has always been a pillar of stability and the foundation for growth since the moment they shook hands on his first day with the 118. He never second-guessed or questioned this love for his best friend, he’s always known it was there. There’s no “I think” or “I guess” or “I suppose” to his feelings for Buck. There’s nothing to think or guess or suppose because he already knows he’s certain about this love. This was only a matter of time before he was able to sail through the fog enveloping the lighthouse that was his true feelings for Buck.

Understanding he was in love with Buck was imminent.

***

Eddie finds himself – after having spent hours staring at Bobby’s parting gift in the form of a Book of Prayers , trying to understand why each glance made his skin burn – inside the very same church that set his brain on fire just weeks after the great revelation of his repressed homosexuality. And 131 days into Christopher’s stay in El Paso.

His mid-life sexuality crisis has been coming and going in waves for days, making it difficult to focus on anything and making Eddie feel incompetent ( What the fuck is wrong with me if this whole thing is making me incapable of doing my job right?! Get it together, Eddie. You’ll cry about this to Frank later).

He keeps his promise to himself and cries about it to his therapist who suggests that Eddie go to the exact church that made him feel this inadequate in the first place.

“I think it could be worth a try to go back there and talk about everything that’s been on your mind. Going to places where we experienced strong uncomfortable emotions and talking about everything that followed tends to help you accept those events.” Frank tells him, writing something down in his notes.

Eddie just stares at him bewildered and disgusted. No chance, he thinks and nods unsurely, not wanting to argue.

He follows Frank’s advice anyway, too eager to prove a point, too sure this isn’t going to help in the slightest, but too used to pain to not self-inflict.

He stands at the entrance, staring the building up and down, judging and considering. Objectively, he knows, there’s no harm going in and saying whatever has been on his mind for the past three weeks. Subjectively, he feels his guts hurl and his expression changes to a grimace of repulse. Like clockwork at times when he’s uncertain of his feelings, he takes out his phone to snap a picture. This once not carrying his camera with him – would be too heavy with the already-present weight of overthinking he’s been doing these past twenty days. Not to mention the weird cocktail, which tastes an awful lot like sin, of mortifying embarrassment and guilt that’s been storming up in his stomach. He opens the camera app on his phone and takes a picture of the church building from below so it frames both the structure and the sky above.

 There are bright colors in his peripheral so he shifts his attention to the side of the church where the navy blue leaflet on the announcement board reads ‘All are welcome’ with little rainbow and star-shaped drawings around the text. Next to it a different leaflet with ‘The End is Near’ in bold font, a cutout picture of Earth being swallowed by flames behind the text. Eddie stares at the letters and the picture behind them, unable to shift his gaze elsewhere for a moment. When he finally does move his attention to a different announcement, he wishes he hadn’t. He sees a flier someone had glued to the pole of the board, and which someone else had tried to remove, scrabbling it with a sharp object. The paper was ripped but some of the message was still legible, the text read:

FOLLOW YOUR FELLOW FAGGOTS

34% OF TRANS PEOPLE ATTEMPT SUICIDE

30% OF SUICIDES ARE LGBT RELATED

OVER 40% OF BISEXUAL PEOPLE CONSIDERED SUICIDE

A drawing of a faceless figure hung in the background.

Eddie feels his blood turn cold, feels it move and remain still at the same time, confusing his brain, and making him itch from the inside. His sight goes blurry, a dark vignette appears in his peripheral. He feels dizzy, feels his guts twist and turn, and a lump in his throat makes him nauseous. He feels dehydrated and out of breath.

His thoughts become too loud and fast for him to focus on just one. 

                 Could this be me 

                                                                                   Is this about me

                Is this what almost pushed me over the edge in Afghanistan 

                                         Eddie, as a father, I can’t watch my son grow up dancing.

                            Maybe I should’ve let explosions take me.

                                                                                                                                                              No, Sam isn’t coming back, Eddie.

                                                                                                                                                                No, you can’t go see him, either.

                       You want to join the pool club? Couldn’t you have chosen an actual sport? What would people think?

                                           Maybe I should’ve let that sniper get me once more.

           Will this be me one day?

                                                                        I’m gonna throw up

He doesn’t want any of them, each one making him spiral deeper. Each one branches out into five more, never forming a complete tree, instead, spreading, taking over all corners of his mind like offensive weeds until his head feels heavy and dark, the blackness enshrouding Eddie from within. He tries fighting them, hoping they’ll disappear. Every single one feels real, too real to be just a thought. He feels the realness of each one suffocating him, he starts believing everything happening in his head is also happening to him in real time. He notices his hands shaking and the tips of his fingers tingling. His head feels like an inflating balloon about to pop any second.  He feels tiny grains scratch his brain, and hears the throbbing sound of his blood, radio-static noise so loud it’s like someone had put giant directional speakers into his ears.

“Are you okay, young man?” An unfamiliar voice takes him by surprise, taking him out of the loud thoughts consuming him.

“Uhm, sorry. I’m just here to– uhm, for– ” He starts before he can even see his savior.

“Confession?” He can hear the voice again, finally focusing his vision on its owner. 

I’m not sure. That’s the truthful answer. He isn’t sure if he came here to confess his sins, though his real intentions aren’t too far off from the assumption. What the hell he thinks and nods at the short elderly lady, whose arm was gently resting on his shoulder.

“What gave it away?” He half lies, distantly wondering if lying on hallowed ground is considered blasphemous.

“You just have the look, dear.” The lady says and all he can do is open his mouth, unsure of how to respond to that. The look? What look? Do I have the look?!

“Anywho, there are not that many people here at this time, so if you want to get in today, you should probably do it now before a crowd shows up.”

“You’re right, thank you.”

“Of course, dear, but you have not answered my other question.”

“Uhm, sorry, I didn’t hear it.” He answered honestly this time, his eyes shifting passively towards the messed up paper of the flier that switched something inside him just moments ago. 

“I asked you if you were okay, sweetie.” She follows his gaze and sighs with disappointment. “Ah, would you look at this absolute profanity? It is 2024, and for the love of God, people should know better than to spew hatred.” She moves her bag from where it had been resting in the crook of her elbow to her shoulder. “The Church better cover this atrocity up with something more cheery soon. I am so sorry you had to see this, honey. I sure hope you didn't let that awful message get to your head.”

Eddie doesn’t respond verbally; he only masters an awkward yet relieved smile and nods at the woman. She smiles and pats him on the shoulder before walking away. 

                                                    ***

“Hello,” Eddie says once he’s inside a confession booth. “I’m not sure how this works…”

“‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been–’ and then you state how long it has been since your last confession ‘These are my sins.’” He hears a voice coming from the other side of the separator.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he says unsurely. Is this really what I’m here for? Have I sinned?   “It has been I don’t know how long since my last confession– I’m sorry, I can’t do this like this.” The small unlit space starts to press on him uncomfortably, making him unable to think clearly. He feels surprisingly observed and judged as if anyone who’s out there who saw him go inside the booth can see through the thickness of the wood and right into his mind. He feels ashamed and guilty. “Do we have to stay in this booth? I want to continue the conversion on a bench. There’s not a single person out there, Father.” 

“Most people prefer anonymity but if that’s what you want then, of course, we can, whatever works for you. It’s not like God only listens if we are in a confession booth.”

They take their leave out of the dark enclosure of the confession booth and walk to the bench closest to the altar.

“So what brings you here today?” The priest asks him immediately when they sit down.

“Something happened to me here a few weeks ago.” He locks his hands together and looks up at the installation of Jesus on a cross. “My therapist said it’d be a good exercise to come back and say everything that’s been on my mind. I’m not sure if he meant praying, talking to myself out loud in hopes that God would hear me, or addressing the big guy directly… I kind of figured confession was as good a choice as any, probably the sanest one too.”

“Can I ask your name?”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie. Whatever you say here, will stay between us and God. I am all ears, and so is He.”

“I’m not sure He is listening. I don’t think He listens. If he did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What makes you say that?”

“For starters, when I was a kid I’d pray to Him and ask him to make me normal.” He pauses and swallows. This is stupid. “ But I felt more abnormal with each prayer.”

“I think He does listen. Sometimes it just takes a long time for you to notice that He also responds. Things take time to unfold, sometimes you see old prayers be answered years later because you needed time to grow into a version of yourself that’d accept those answers.” 

That is shockingly profound , he thinks. Crap.

“You might not believe that God is listening,” the priest continues. “Yet you are here.”

“Yet here I am because my therapist told me to and because I was on a walk a few weeks back and happened to be walking past this church when I heard a familiar name being yelled out somewhere near the church. When I looked inside I saw there was a wedding in progress, I watched it for a bit and thought that the groom,” he clears his throat and continues. “One of the grooms looked familiar but I wasn’t sure why until a couple of hours later when I remembered where I knew him from.”  He stops talking feeling breathless as if he had just finished running. He didn’t mean to say any of this, verbal flow got a mind of its own and was now controlling Eddie, not the other way around.

“Was the groom someone special to you once?”

He debates answering any further questions the priest might ask.

  Why the hell not? Screw this. Might as well, since I seem to have verbal diarrhea. 

“He was.” He tries his best to keep breathing and fights the uncomfortable burning in his eyes.”I think he was my first love… or something like that.” He turns his head to his right and looks at the priest who in return gives him a compassionate smile. “It’s been decades since we’ve last spoken and I was only able to recognize him because a couple of years ago I got recommended his profile on Facebook… but seeing him unlocked so many memories I didn’t realize I had and I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened since.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remembered things I’m not sure I wanted to remember and now I can’t stop thinking about them. I suddenly remembered so much of my past and I have no idea how to function now.”

“Would you like to tell those memories? Let someone share the burden?”

“O-okay. Well, I remembered that when I was little, I wanted nothing more than to play with dolls with my sisters. I wanted to dance and be in a drama club… I also remembered that I was a gentle child, I didn’t care who I was hugging or whose hand I was holding as long as we were happy and together. I also remembered wanting to marry a boy.”

“I see. Was there anything else you remembered?”

“That my parents clearly didn’t want me to do any of those things. They weren’t manly and my father wanted me to man up. I don’t know, I guess, I just can’t stop thinking about what kind of man they wanted me to be. They wanted me to follow orders, be strong and tough, never cry, and act more like other boys and men at our church. I can’t stop feeling helpless because the man they wanted me to become was not someone I ever wanted to be. Yet, I did everything they told me to. I didn’t want to seem weak or– or queer.”

“I haven’t seen you here before, so, I hope it’s safe to assume you don’t know the name of this church?”

“That’s right,” Eddie responded, confused about what his absence at this church has to do with his confession.

“St. Basil's Catholic Church. That’s where we are right now. I am telling you this because believe it or not there have been examples of non-traditional masculinity in the Church. Saint Basil and Gregory Nazianzus were so close that the latter said they were like ‘two bodies with a single spirit’. Then, of course, both of them publicly supported the church's opinion of homosexual activity being sinful. This is, of course, an important thing to remember. However, the bond the two shared was rather unconventional even by modern standards, though that’s changing for the better. After Saint Basil’s passing, Gregory said he felt half dead, in pain from his separation from Basil. It’s not uncommon. I mean, look at the gowns we wear. Whether people like to admit this or not, our clothes would be looked down upon by the same people who pass judgment on men wearing dresses and make-up if they weren’t so blind toward their own hypocrisy.

“I’m telling you this so that you know that whatever you were taught about masculinity and identity in the context of religion and faith was taught by idiots who did not think to question what they had been taught. Faith does not care about all that. Religion only does because people are scared of the beauty of diversity, they are afraid of the beauty of being one’s truest self and they are terrified when they notice something so blindingly authentic that it makes them doubt everything they’ve ever known.”

“I know all that, I do. It’s just difficult to see past what my parents think, I’m so used to caring about their opinion even if I never agree with it. I still care and I wish I didn’t because my parents always cared more about the way they were perceived than they cared about others’ feelings.

“When it came to religion, I followed their lead even when I saw things in church I didn’t want to see, didn’t agree with, and did and said things I didn’t believe. I still listened to everything they told me about death and what came after and that if I wanted to go to Heaven, I had to act accordingly and honor the vision God had for humanity. Never do anything that would make me look different from what God wanted me to be. It’s not like I ever cared about going to Hell or Heaven. Yet, I always felt like if I wanted to get God’s approval – anyone’s approval – I had to hide a piece of me I hadn’t even gotten the chance to discover and do whatever everybody else was doing. And now… It feels like I’m running out of time to find out what I am and what I want. Like, if I don’t figure it out soon, I might never try again.”

“Some people make faith itself seem like Hell because they feel religion approves their need to control the world around them, the need to pick and choose who gets to go to heaven and who’s doomed to be sent to Hell at the end of their life.” The priest tells him, not an ounce of faltering in his voice, he isn’t trying to make Eddie feel better. No. He’s speaking from his heart. From experience. “But you can’t use God’s name to justify personal agendas or to blame Him for everything that’s wrong with both the world and yourself.”

Okay. Eddie feels called out. For someone who’s a self-proclaimed skeptic of all things holy and spiritual, he sure directs a good amount of blame for everything that’s wrong with him to God.

Maybe that’s why he feels so guilty.

“I don’t know why I feel so much guilt towards religion, I never really cared enough about it in the first place. I guess, I just always felt like I couldn’t meet the expectations that everyone and their mom had for me. That included being a God-fearing, rule-following man.”

“Many people turn to religion to avoid responsibility for their actions, mistakes, and failures. I always found faith to be a better salvation than religion.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no. I see faith as something more of a human need. Faith doesn’t equal faith in God, though, it can definitely mean that too. Faith is individual and personal. It can be faith in the Universe, the Divine, multiple deities, or faith in unknown higher power, or karma, or even a person.”

Eddie hums, he isn’t sure what he expected the priest to say but that’s definitely not it. He always thought most clergy members shared very similar opinions on what they were preaching.

“You aren’t a conventional priest, are you?” He asks.

“Who said I was?”

“Huh. Maybe if I had met more people like you in church, I wouldn’t feel so much catholic guilt weighing me down right now. I mean on top of everything that religion taught me was the aversion to homosexuality." He lets out a short mirthless laugh. “For most of my life, I thought 'at least I’m not gay or else they’d think I failed the only thing I managed to do right,' and now– well, let’s say the mid-life crisis came with a big homosexual epiphany.”

“You are allowed to be gay, Eddie . God loves you straight, gay, and everything in between. He created queer people for the same reason He created love. So that people can share and expand it in all its forms. So that people unite, form communities, and share bonds so profound there are simply not enough words or time to describe them. So that humanity can share the act and beauty of creation. Because you are a part of His Divine Plan. Queer people are divine, Eddie. The World wouldn’t be half as sacred without you in it.

“Maybe it’s not too late for me to help you see Church and God differently. I’m not here to make you believe in Him. Make you act in certain ways, or believe certain things.” He smiles, earnest and hopeful. ”I just want to show you that even if you don’t share faith in God, you can still find a safe space to have faith in something else. I want to help you see that even if you did find God, it’d be okay to have a relationship with him that’s different from what people expect it to be.”

Eddie takes in all of it. He listens and feels that maybe the words are reaching him at last. He feels that maybe Frank was right. 

Bastard .

The other man continues. “I believe in God, and I believe that if he didn’t want you to be the way you are, he wouldn’t have bothered carving you so intricately.

“You said you felt ‘catholic guilt’ weighing you down. You don’t have to carry that guilt because there’s no guilt to carry. Religion shouldn’t be about following an old rule book. It should be about finding your place in the faith you have. Learning what it means to you, loving others just the way they are, and accepting them for who they are without demanding anything from them.” He pauses to shift his gaze directly at Eddie and waits for him to turn his head in his direction before he speaks. His eyes are fixed on Eddie’s as he tries to reach deeper through his conscious mind into his subconscious, into the outdated programming, slowly reaching the wiring.

“You have a sacred purpose in this world. Even if that purpose is simply to exist.”

Something shifts inside Eddie, he can feel it on a physical lever. The sensation is a mix of a sudden wave of cold air and electricity running through his veins directly into his lungs. He thinks, for the first time since he was ten, that there is a chance that there’s nothing wrong with him. He can now see clearly that what he needed all this time to be finally set free from the chains of shame and guilt was for someone who hurt him to tell him he was allowed to be himself. To tell him he is all right. That he can create his own version of masculinity, be whoever he wants, and believe in whatever he pleases. No rule-following required. No God-fearing needed. He got permission to be free.

Maybe, there’s still time. 

                                                 ***

Eddie comes out to himself 138 days into Chris being gone.

He spends the week following his second church-induced revelation allowing himself to feel and be. He lets himself explore the idea of being himself and wonders about what exactly that would mean. 

On one of those days, he meets up with Karen over an entire bottle of red wine shared between the two of them. A few glasses in, he asks her, as nonchalantly as any drunk closeted man looking for a lived experience to relate to would ask his out lesbian friend, about how she knew she liked girls.

He spends his time off work on Reddit, reading stories from other gay men who realized their queerness later in life, watching YouTube, and catching up on the bits and pieces of the culture he’s unknowingly belonged to for 33 years of his life. He does extensive research and finds out about gay slang. He discovers terms such as ‘internalized homophobia’ and that the best way to rewrite it is to submerge oneself in queer media.

So

He watches Brokeback Mountain and distantly remembers being thirteen and hearing people whisper things about the movie, remembers people spreading rumors that somebody’s best friend’s cousin’s classmate watched and that he is queer. 

Once he’s done with A Single Man, he feels a new kind of emptiness inside because now he can relate to the stories he sees unfold on his screen and can imagine himself in the characters’ shoes and this unlocks a countless amount of new emotions that he should attempt to capture with his camera. 

He watches a few episodes of Heartstopper and feels relieved when he cries about missing out on something so fundamental his entire life, silently thanking everyone who’s made it possible for younger generations to feel safer being their honest selves.

He tries watching Glee but quickly understands that the fever dream the show ultimately isn’t something he’s in the mood for. Whoever made this is sick and twisted. What the actual fuck? 

When he learns about the term ‘A Friend of Dorothy’, he rewatches The Wizard of Oz and sees bits of himself in every character. Not only because he is rewatching the movie as a 33-year-old father but also because now his relationship with himself is the closest it’s ever been.

He finds out about countless discourses within a community and decides to ignore them for now.

Whoever said that embracing yourself into queer media is the best cure for internalized homophobia is Eddie’s new hero and he considers praying to them to show his gratitude because he finally feels lighter. He feels the weight of guilt shift and slowly dissolve and can’t believe how fast his life has changed. He’s spent most of it running from happiness, always sabotaging it the second he got too close, and now he’s present. He doesn’t run. 

He is still skittish and, at times, terrified.

But he doesn’t run.

He feels hopeful and permits himself to try on the label ‘gay’.

When saying it out loud about himself no longer stirs up panic, he feels he’s almost ready to explore what that term means to him… it feels more and more right every time he thinks about it but feels like something’s missing.

He researches literature about queer history and various identities.

And buys a book on asexuality. He’s not well familiar with the term but he can guess what it means. (Something about the word draws him in and he feels connected to it. He can’t quite describe what it is that gets him buzzing, that makes his heart skip a beat, but he might just let himself find out.)

He ends up reading the whole thing in one sitting.

And 

Oh

There it is.

“Demisexuality is a sexual orientation in which someone feels sexual attraction only to people with whom they have an emotional bond. “

He feels his shoulders drop and lets out a shaking breath. The sensation that surges through his body can be described as the feeling you get after finally connecting all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It feels oddly like waiting for a diagnosis, expecting the worst, assuming that whatever’s wrong with you will lead you to certain death, and being told that the issue is psychosomatic. It’s curable. There’s nothing innately wrong with you.

It feels like an aha moment.

Eddie feels giddy. So, he laughs.

Laughs with his whole chest and feels like he can breathe.

Eddie Diaz is gay and demisexual.

And there’s nothing wrong with him.

                                                    ***

Eddie comes out to his son 139 days into relearning what it means to be himself. 

They are on a Zoom call, catching up on whatever has happened since the last time they spoke.

Chris finally started smiling back at him a few conversations back and today, Eddie can’t believe it at first having grown so unused to the sound, he is laughing at something funny Eddie had said.

He takes in the sound of his boy’s voice like it’s the last time he’s gonna hear it. He knows, of course, that he’ll hear it again but this moment is too special, and thinks he’s allowed to be sentimental. This is the first time he’s heard his son’s laughter in 139 days – no chance in the world he isn’t going to make the most of this.

Christopher’s laugh gives him hope. It gives him strength to tell him something he’d recently figured out about himself. If he’s going to start coming out to people – to his family – he wants Chris to be the first to know. 

“Christopher, honey, it’s time for bed.” A familiar voice takes him out of his bubble and Eddie sees his mother approach Chris from behind. “Eddie, I think we should wrap this up for the night.”

Eddie checks the time. 7:20 and 8:20 in El Paso. This is not Christopher’s curfew.

“What? It’s still early, Mom.”

“I know, but this isn’t good for him.” She swallows and clears her throat. Eddie ignores the implication that spending more time with him is damaging his son. “Staying up late really isn’t good for him.” She gives Eddie a look.

He remembers Frank’s words spoken what feels like both several lifetimes and two nights ago about people pleasing. He’s made, arguably, dubious progress in standing his ground in the past couple of calls but he’s made progress nonetheless. He is unwilling to let that movement cease under his mother’s heightened sense of demonstrativeness.

“Let him decide if he can stay up a bit longer.”

Helena gives him another look. And this one…

This one Eddie could decipher even with his eyes closed. He has felt it on his body enough times to have developed a new survival response. It’s the look that says: 

“How dare you speak to me this way?”. 

The look that tells Eddie to keep his mouth shut when his parents are speaking because 

they

know

better.

He knows this look like the back of his hand. As a child, this look would make him want to cry. But he couldn’t – wasn’t allowed. He’d freeze at the mere possibility of doing something that would make his parents give him this look.

But Eddie is not a child anymore. So he just stares back at her, no longer frightened.

Her gaze falters and she turns to Christopher. “Honey, do you want to stay up a little longer?”

“Yeah, I wanna talk to dad.”

“Okay, but not too long. You need some rest before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Eddie asks. What’s tomorrow? I wasn’t told about tomorrow.

“Oh! Christopher is going to the pool club.”

“You want to join the pool club? Couldn’t you have chosen an actual sport? What would people think?”

Well that’s fucking peachy. Eddie quells the anguish and jealousy threatening to boil his blood.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s great. Way to go, kid!”

Echoes of his past evaporate the courage he had foraged to come out on call and he decides he’ll do it over text.

Later that night he does.

                                                                                                              Chris.

                      I wanted to tell you on call earlier but didn’t get the chance to. 

                                                              It’s something very important to me.

okay?

                                                                                                                I’m gay.

                                                                 And I think I’m in love with Buck…

fork found in kitchen

                                                                                                                        …

i mean wow dad i hAD NO IDEA

                                                                                   How did you know that?

dad i see the way you look at Buck

and none of your relationships with women worked

its not college-level maths

connecting the dots was easy

sorry 

that’s probably rude

ive heard its insensitive to tell queer ppl u knew what they r

I’m proud of you, Dad.

I really am.

                                                                                                   Thanks, Chris.

                                 And don’t worry about it, I know you’re not being mean.

oh i am

                                                                                                                        …

but only bc i like teasing you

i don’t actually want to belittle your feelings

                                                       When did you get so smart and mature?

ive been smart but mature idk since watching

therapy stuff on YT bc this family has issues and im tired

                                                                                           You and I both, kid.

                                                                     This is one dysfunctional family.

real

anyway i meant it when i said im proud of you

                                                                                                              I know.

                                                                                                                 Now.

                                                        What did you say about me and Buck?

dad ur so gay 4 him its painful to witness

                                                                                    Chris, what the hell? :(

                                                                                     What’s with the sass?

                                                                   What do you mean by “painful”?

just facts

look in the mirror

girl please u r down bad 

also ur not arguing the “so gay 4 him” thing 

and here i was abt 2 say denial was a river in egypt 

                                                                What language are you speaking? 

gay 

girl catch up with the lingo 

                                                    Right.

Don’t shame me. Girl. 

almost got it pops

                                                                                 GIRL IM NOT THAT OLD. 

there u go ur learning fast diva

no doubt ur gay

                                                    Chris, stop harassing me, I’m your father. 

i will stop harassing u when u quit acting like ur 60

dad u r a diva idk why u acting all polite

anyway have you come out to Buck 

                                                                                                           Not yet.

take your time king but also when you do

mention ur in love w him before things w his bf get serious

and before your pining gets dire

                                                                 He and Tommy broke up, actually.

halleluja

 …

god BLESS used to pray for days like these

also damn right b4 halloween??

he couldve used him as decor

no bf AND no decorations? double homicide 😞 🤚

                                                                                                        Chris???

dad bro was mad fugly

   Was? He’s still alive.

not to me hes not

dad he dated ur man and now theyre bones

                                                                             Sure but I don’t hate him. 

maybe if u keep telling urself that u’ll believe it

                                                     And just because he dated someone I like 

                                                             doesn’t mean I can be mean about it.

well i can

sorry not sorry dad that man was a fossil

and had no personality outside his helicopter

negative aura 

no rizz

                                                                                 What does it even mean?

dont worry abt it

also thats not true what u said about not hating him

u r the biggest hater i know

embrace it

Eddie wishes he could argue that but you can’t argue with science.

anyway Buck’s choices man

he should see eye doctor bc damn he blind

                                                                                                       Chris, look.

          I understand you don’t like Tommy 

               but cmon, be nicer about Buck?

dad yk i love Buck hes like a father to me

 Hello?? Did he actually just say that?

Buck is one of the most interesting people i know 

he knows so much and he is caring and selfless and kind

idk what possessed him to date that senile

geriatric walker-from-twd-lord farquaad love-child

and to think they’ve kissed??? 

check in on buck

make sure he didn’t catch anything from the embodiment of if-tuberculosis-was-a-person 

Wow.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say he’s just–

Wow. Holy fucking shit.

He’s not sure how many wows he has left in him at this point. 

He’s flabbergasted. Left speechless by his own flesh and blood.

He thinks Chris couldn’t have used better words.

                                                                                I know that as your father

                                   I should probably scold you for using foul language  

                                                                   but as a hater, I’m gonna ignore it 

                                             because I couldn't have said it better myself :)

                                                     The guy looks like he smells like toenails.

LMAO get his ass

u r welcome btw

also never use that smiley face

it’s like it’s threatening me 

                                                                   What am I supposed to use then?

idk an emoji??? 

like any normal person???

                                                                               Who said I was normal? :)

oh yeah we r done now

(no one ever)

                                                                                   😈

night dad

                                                                                        Good night, Chris 🙂

***

140 days into Chris being gone, Eddie comes to Buck.

Buck invites himself over on their shared day off by promising to help Eddie with his Halloween costume for the themed kids’ event at the firehouse. He brings lemon bars along with him. 

“So, you know how I’ve been trying to recreate Bobby’s recipes, right?” He says in place of a greeting as he enters Eddie’s house and waits for a response, only resuming after getting a nod as the answer. “I wanted to try something new, so I figured I could try baking. I mean I’m not great at it, the only times I baked before were for Chr-” Buck clears his throat before he continues. Missing his son is easier these days but Eddie appreciates the sentiment. “- for school sales. And even then it was mostly me making cookies, but this time I wasn’t sure what to make, so I thought why not choose randomly and landed on these.” He pulls off the kitchen towel that’s been covering a tray he brought with him to show an alarming number of lemon bars.

“Did you intend to make enough to feed the entire 118 and our families?”

“Ha-ha. No, but I did accidentally make more than expected.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Accidentally’? How does one ‘accidentally’ make so many lemon bars?”

“I’m not sure but that just goes to show you - I’m better as a cook.”

“Well, you can still practice. They say it makes perfect, right?”

“Sure.”

“So, do you need my help cleaning the tray?”

“Please?”

“You are certain they are edible?”

“Fuck you.” I wish. Dios, Eddie, demisexual and horny? Pick a struggle. 

“ If you don’t want any, I’ll just take them and go somewhere I’m appreciated.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try one.”

They each grab one bar from the tray. Eddie makes a point out of scrunching his face a little, considering, before turning in Buck’s direction just to see his unamused face and taking a bite. So does Buck. 

The flavor is nice, a perfect balance of sweet and sour, with the texture soft enough for Eddie’s liking. He takes another bite, powdered sugar gets all over his now-long mustache and is about to share his review when he hears the other man chuckle to himself.

“What?” Eddie asks with his mouth still full.

“Oh, sorry, I just remembered something I read online the other day.”

“Care to share with the class?”

“It’s silly but there’s a discourse on the internet about bisexuals and lemon bars, and how, allegedly, all bisexuals love them. It’s, like, considered ‘the official bi snack’.”

“Hmm, is it bi-exclusive?”

“I don’t know, I mean, I would guess. I’m pretty sure this theory doesn’t check out, though, because I know Hen loves them and she’s definitely not bi.”

“Well, maybe it’s just an all-LGBT-inclusive official snack?” he pauses, picks up his half-eaten bar, and takes one more bite. “ I sure love them.”

The implications of the last sentence contrast loudly with the silence that drops on them. Eddie slowly goes still as he finishes chewing and swallows. The look on his face stunned, a mixture of emotions, yet somehow blank. It’s too much to read, even for Buck, who’s usually an expert interpreter of Eddie Diaz's facial expression manual. In fact, he likes to think he came up with it.

“Right.” 

There’s a pause.

“Eddie, did you just come out to me over a lemon bar?” 

Another pause that Eddie uses to stare blankly at whatever object is closest to him at that moment.

 “Oh. God. Sorry! Eddie, I’m so sorry, it’s none of my business! I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, I remember how petrified I felt when Tommy made a comment that could’ve outed me when I wasn’t ready to be out yet-”

“Buck.”

“- I really don’t care if you did just come out. Wait, no, not like that. I mean I do care if you did, I just wanted to say that this doesn’t change a thing between us but if it’s just me misunderstanding-”

“Buck.”

“-then I’m sorry. This isn’t something to joke about and I should know this. I mean, I should, right?! I’m queer myself so what does this say about me? That I may be bi but I’m definitely not a good ally?!”

“Buck!” Eddie’s voice finally reaches Buck, cutting through his intense freak-out monologue. “It’s fine… I did, I mean. I am-”

He stops and contemplates if this is really how he wants to come out to his best friend. 

“I’m gay and I did just come out to you over a lemon bar. I didn’t mean to but it happened and I’m not mad or upset at you for assuming. I’m just surprised I said what I said. I’m also demisexual. If that tells you anything.”

Buck finally lets go of the tension in his muscles and laughs.

 “Yeah, it tells me something, I may have come out in my thirties but up to date with the terms.” He looks at Eddie like he had expected him to already know that about him. Honestly, he really should’ve. “Thank you for telling me, though.” He says, and then in Eddie’s own words from months ago “This doesn’t change a thing between us.” Then, Buck drags him into a bear hug. Eddie wishes it would change more than one thing between them.

Once they release each other from the hug, they turn back to what this moment was really about and take seconds of Buck’s lemon bars. They fall into comfortable silence as they chew on dessert and Eddie takes out his phone to text Christopher about what had just happened.

                                                                                  Just came out to Buck :)

🎉

so r u 2 together now? 😏

                                     Don’t ever use that face in a conversation with me. 

              Please.

ur so boring

u didn’t answer tho

                                                                      No, Chris, we are not together.

                                        Need I remind you he just broke up with Tommy?

nah i remember ive already celebrated

mother nature really did a number on that man 

a face only a mother could love and she too didn’t

his ass-chin crack so deep Buck’s dignity got lost there 

he looks like hes was born constipated

                                                                    Language! That’s so rude, Chris.

am i wrong tho  

    …

am i wrong Edmundo

                                                                 Ew, watch who you call Edmundo.  

                                                            Can’t believe it, betrayed by own son.

some humiliation wouldn’t hurt you

i was betrayed by my dad so now we r even

  …

                                                              Who taught you to hate your father?

it’s hereditary

                       …

Touche. Eddie thinks but doesn’t type out.

so will you answer me ffs

                                                                                                      LANGUAGE!

okay okay 

just answer PLS

                                                             You aren’t wrong. Bro’s ugly as fuck.

SO NOW YOU DONT CARE ABT LANGUAGE

i agree tho

you look way better, dad 

Buck needs glasses stat

This last message kicks a laugh out of him, getting Buck’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s just a text from Chris.”

“Chris? What did he say?” Buck shifts so he can look over Eddie’s to read whatever funny thing Christopher wrote. Eddie locks the screen and hides his phone before Buck gets the chance to.

“It’s not important. Now, would you please let me finish this bar and help me with my costume?”

“Fine but at least tell Superman I said hi!” He shines a bright smile at Eddie as he turns on his heels to walk out into the living room. “Where’s the stuff for your costume, by the way? 

“Bedroom. In the dresser.”

Eddie takes out his phone once again and goes to his messages with Chris.

                                                                                                     Buck says hi.

uuuuu buck is with u RN?

what are you 2 doing?

r u smooching

                                                                                                         Bye, Chris!

love you dad

Wow.

Okay. 

He wasn’t expecting that. 

To be honest, he doesn’t think he was expecting anything at all, but the message still makes him forget what he was doing. He can feel the time and air stop around him. The colors in his kitchen are suddenly bright and as little faith as he has in signs, he swears the clouds outside are gone because the sunlight filling the room lights it up and feels warm on his skin.

Maybe after whatever this is that just happened and the church incident, he can open up to signs a little more.

His son loves him.

Even after everything between them in the past months, Chris still loves him.

And Eddie is allowed to love him back.

                                                                                             I love you too, kid.

He gets a heart reaction to his last message and lets the tears sting his eyes. There’s no need to fight them. Not right now. Not when his son loves him again.

He puts his phone back into his pants pocket at the exact moment Buck reenters the room with Eddie’s costume piling over in his arms.

“Okay, here you go.” He says as he lays out all the pieces on the table. “Some fur you got here. What is that supposed to be? Chewbacca? Don’t think Bobby’ll approve it for the Haunt Fest but at least Chris would eat this up!”

“It’s a wolfman, dumbass.”

“Weirdly enough, I think that fits.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Buck shrugs nonchalantly but the smug look on his face is an instant giveaway that he’s enjoying getting a reaction out of Eddie. The latter wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are you done bullying me? Or do you need a minute? I need assistance with this thing?”

Buck chuckles at that.

God. he’s cute. Fuck my life.

“Yeah, I’m done.”

As they proceed to fix Eddie’s atrocious wolfman skin, they also fall into comfortable chatter, talking about work and bantering about what the best Halloween candy is – Buck is certain it’s Sour Patch Kids and looks at him bewildered because everyone knows it’s Reese’s Cups.

“You said best not the most popular, man!”

“They’re most popular for that exact reason!”

Somewhere between Buck burning his finger on hot glue trying to make the fur stick and the two of them arguing over where on the vest should the chain go, a topic of what costumes they’re gonna wear for the 118 and Co. get-together on upcoming Saturday.

“Well,” Buck opens, as he sews on the chain. “I asked Tommy to do couples costumes with me this year. But we broke up and it’s not like he wanted to do them anyway. I guess I’ll just get something from the store last minute.”

“That sucks. How are you holding up, by the way?”

“Huh?”

“After the break-up?”

“Oh! Oh, I’m great! Yeah, no, the other day I was having dinner with Maddie and Chim and he told me about the time Tommy used to be with the 118. Eddie, he was awful. He made racist and sexist jokes about Chim and Hen. And when Gerrard did the same, he excused him, backed him up. I’ve never been happier to go through a break-up in my life.”

Eddie purses his lips and nods. “Good riddance.”

He takes his phone out to send Chris a sneaky text.

                                                I take everything back. I hate Tommy Kinard.

                                                           Hopes his helicopter explodes midair.

“Anyway. Back to costumes. You got nothing at home you can use?”

Eddie asks, puts his phone on the counter, and picks up his werewolf costume to see if anything else needs patching up.

“I mean, I have all the stuff for my cowboy costume for the Haunt Fest. I s’pose, I can just change the shirt and take off the mustache.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Who did you want to go as with Tommy?”

“Promise you won’t judge.”

“When have I ever?”

Buck’s eyes are bout to pop out of their sockets. The expression on his face screams “Is he for real? ”  

“Jeez. Don’t look at me like that. Fine, I promise I won’t judge.”

“Thank you.” Buck sighs only mildly annoyed. “I wanted us to go as Jack and Ennis from The Brokeback Mountain.”

Eddie’s brows furrow involuntarily. What is there to judge? He genuinely doesn’t understand what about this idea was supposed to make him judge Buck. It is, however, making him do so with Tommy for blowing his chance. He watched the movie only recently but he can confidently say that if it had been him Buck asked to do these costumes with, he would’ve agreed instantly. Not just out of the mere fact that he is undoubtedly ceaselessly in love with Buck, but because he can tell why he would want to go as these characters. Because Buck wants the kind of love that’s everlasting, loyal, evergreen, even when two people are no longer together. Even they are doomed to be apart. Because Buck would want them to get a happily ever after. That’s just who he is. If it came to, he thinks, Buck, too, would want his own ashes scattered in the place he’d been alone with with the love of his life.

And because dressing up as two of the most landmark queer characters in film is so Buck. Eddie knows, Buck had told him himself one night, that he is afraid he’s missed out on so much, on countless life-changing moments, because he came out in his thirties. Eddie assured him there was still time for that and Buck, because there was no one else in the world he believes more, took his words as gospel.

“I think it’s a beautiful idea, Buck.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Besides, you can just go as Ennis. What are the odds you’ll meet someone dressed as Jack? Maybe he’ll be your forever person.”

It’s official. Eddie Diaz has gone off the tracks into a downright insanity. He needs to tell Frank about this stat. His self-sabotaging behaviors are having a blast.

“Thanks.” His gaze floats to Eddie with a look in his eyes that’s unreadable. He clears his throat. “What about you? Who are you dressing up as?”

“No one. I usually match with Christopher but there’s no point this time. He’s in El Paso.”

“You could still do it and just video call.”

“Well, things got better for us only recently. We wouldn’t have enough time to put anything together anyway.”

“That sucks, man. You should still dress up as something.”

“Well, all I have is stuff from previous times, some black clothes, and a cowboy hat. Maybe I can try to do Zorro or something.”

“If you do, then next year you should totally do Bunny Wigglesworth.”

“Who?”

“Zorro’s gay twin brother.”

“I thought you were bi. Why are so homophobic?”

Buck’s bright laughter fills the room and, unfortunately for Eddie, is contagious. 

“Wait!” Buck suddenly exclaims. “I have a better idea. We should just go as Ennis and Jack the two of us.”

And that gets Eddie to laugh again, hysterically, unable to cover it up in time. He better be joking.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious. It works perfectly. You won’t even have to shave that thing off.” He gestures at Eddie’s face.

Cosplaying lovers with his best friend, whom he is desperately in love with, wasn’t on his 2024 itinerary. The thing is, he wants to do it. He would give so much to dress up as tragic gay cowboys with the man of his dreams. He just fears he wouldn’t handle doing that while carries the status of Buck’s best friend and co-worker. He’s been doing so much better in the emotions realm, and this might just break his streak. He can’t do it. He will not survive having to pretend to be the love of Buck’s life only for it to be a part of a Halloween costume – a one-night-and-done kind of thing. Some sick and twisted one-night-stand.

He is ready to decline the offer when he sees hope overflowing behind Buck’s eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be weird?” He asks.

“Not even for a second. If anything, it makes more sense for us to be them than it would’ve for me and Tommy.” Buck answers and Eddie, for his personal sake, doesn’t ask him on the semantics of why.

“Fine. We can do that.”

“Hell yeah!”

Guess, I’ll die is the last thought he has before he hears his phone vibrate. He checks the notifications and sees Christopher’s name pop up.

HES BACK 

in ur hater era i see

u were missed

He doesn’t reply, just leaves a smiley face emoji reaction and rolls his eyes. He loves this boy so much.

                                                      ***

On the same day Eddie comes out to Buck he also comes out to Mara.

It’s the last time they can act out the entire play together before show time rolls around next Thursday. 

This time, they’re meeting up at the Wilsons’ house. Finally, he thinks. After what felt like forever and a half, the girl was reunited with her parents and brother. Karen had called him in advance to tell him that she, Hen, and Denny would be out for the evening. Mara had insisted on that, only wanting Eddie around as they rehearsed. She wanted everything to be perfect the first time her family saw the performance and that meant making sure they didn’t get any spoilers.

When he gets there, Mara opens the door for him and takes his hand dragging him inside before he gets a chance to say hello. She’s going very fast and Eddie tries his best to catch up to her without tripping over the pile of clothes and crafting supplies on the floor.

“You are late.”

“By like five minutes, Mars.”

“By like five minutes we could’ve used to rehearse. Eddie, this time it has to be perfect!”

“I remember that but you’ve been working so hard. It’s already perfect. Plus, you’ll rehearse with everybody next Wednesday, won’t you?”

“Yeah, well it’s not perfect enough!” She raises her voice suddenly and quickly goes shamefully quiet when she realizes what has happened. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re nervous. Hell, I am too but I can only imagine how stressed you must be feeling.” He squats down to be on the same level as her and looks her directly in the eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. We’ve been doing this for months and you only got better each time.” That earns him a smile. “So now we’re gonna do this one more time and when we’re done I’m gonna order us pizza and those milkshakes from that place on Sixth St. What do you say, sounds good?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think really hard, weighing her options before laughing and rolling her eyes.

“Can we watch a movie too?”

“I was hoping you’d suggest that.”

He picks up the script Mara had prepared for them on the coffee table. At this point, they don’t need any help remembering the lines, they both would be able to recite every character’s words in their sleep in the storm on top of a snowy mountain. But he noticed a couple of rehearses in, that having a physical copy of the script appears to ground Mara in the present moment, making her less stressed.

So he opens the first page, clearing his thoughts and doing some vocal exercises, readying to give every voice actor currently employed a run for their money. Before he can say anything he ends up tripping over the pile he’d seen earlier after all.

“What is this mess?”

“It’s my Halloween costume!”

“Are going as a pile of garbage this year?”

“Ha-ha. No.   It’s obviously not ready. I’m going as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.”

That almost makes Eddie snort nervously. What are the odds?! Is his last thought before fixing his posture and shaking the script looking it pointedly to show Mara it’s go time.

Their final rehearsal ends before they even notice how much time has gone by. Eddie thinks this is their best one to date.

“I think you’re ready. You were great.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and laughs. “You were…” She squints her eyes, the tone of her voice gradually dropping. 

“Oh, c'mon!”

“Not bad. You finally nailed the voices. Though, your line delivery is still  hopeless.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a firefighter and not an actor.” He blinks at her and reaches for his phone when he feels it vibrate in the back pocket of his jeans. He gets a notification informing him that the pizza and milkshakes he had ordered during their five-minute intermission were just delivered to the front porch.

He gets off the floor and goes to pick up their food. When he comes back inside, Mara is already waiting for him on the couch cuddled up in a blanket with the remote in her hand. 

“Okay. Here’s your disgustingly sweet caramel popcorn milkshake with whipped cream, and an obnoxious amount of salted caramel drizzle on top.”

“At least it tastes good, unlike your chocolate mint.”

“Hey! I wanted to order banana but they didn’t have any. Besides, this flavor is a classic.”

“Yeah, for like people whose birth years begin with nineteen.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Oh, but I did. My milkshake tastes good. Grow up, Eddie.”

He can feel his jaw drop and his eyebrows fly to his hairline. God, this girl might just be his new favorite person.

He sets the pizza on the coffee table and takes his seat on Mara’s right.

“Anyway,” he says pointedly. “What are we watching?”

“I was thinking Coco.” She answers avoiding his gaze. No way. Does she know it’s my favorite?

“I love that movie.”

“I know. Buck told me.”

Of course, he did. He thinks.

Eddie’s heart does this thing it does every time Buck does something (more like anything, period) that shows he knows Eddie. He knows he’s blushing so he tries to cover it when he reaches for a slice of pizza.

 By the time they get to the performance of “Un Poco Loco”, their milkshakes are finished, and agreement that too much caramel does, in fact, taste nasty is reached. At some point, during one of the scenes of Miguel’s ancestors looking for him, he notices Mara looking at him from his peripheral. He turns to her with a question in his eyes. She shakes her head, moves her blanket so Eddie can have it too, even if only a tiny bit, and scooches over to rest her head against his arm. 

His heart stops before melting into a substance similar to that of the milkshakes they drank earlier. As if the plot of the movie wasn’t enough to make him want to burst out crying.

Eddie manages to stay calm, at least on the outside, for the rest of the scenes that follow, if only for Mara’s sake, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he would absolutely hate himself if she woke up because of his inability to control his reactions. So he does everything to remain as still as a pillar, summoning all his army training. 

Then they reach Héctor’s flashback. Lyrics of “Remember Me” hitting him not just too close to home, but way beyond. They storm through the kitchen where Chris blew out the candles of his birthday cakes, knocked down the trees behind which they’d play hide and seek in the backyard, broke the glass in the window Chris would look out of to wave Eddie his ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’.

He can’t help but think of a parallel experience from his own past. He recalls the time his son was younger. He remembers leaving for Afghanistan with his son’s picture in the chest pocket of his uniform and the St Christopher medallion around his neck. He can’t avoid the memories of coming back to his boy only to find out Chris barely knows who he is. He remembers all the cries, the doctor appointments, and the surgeries. He pictures helping Chris with his Spanish homework, teaching him all the ways to say I love you and telling him all the ways in which he loves him. He sees the night in the well and sees himself fighting for his life so he can make it to his son’s presentation.

He remembers Christopher telling him he misses him all the time.

God.

He misses Christopher, too.

Before he knows it, the camera app on his phone is open and he snaps a quick dark blurry picture of the screen in front of him, and as soon as he locks his phone, he starts sobbing, waking Mara up. She is confused at first, still half-asleep and in whatever dream she was dreaming. But as soon as her brain registers what’s going on, she grabs the remote and pauses the movie, and the next second her arms are around Eddie in a tight embrace.

“I got you.” She says, letting him have a moment, giving him a chance to let everything out.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry.” He breathes through a series of broken gasps and sobs.

“It’s okay.” She reassures and hugs him tighter.

They sit like that for a few more moments. At some point a silence sets in the room, Eddie’s cries no longer audible but dry. He wipes face and carefully sits up, as his breathing steadies.

He takes a deep still-broken breath and looks at the screen, that had gone black, absent-mindedly. 

“I’m so sorry, Mara.” 

“It’s okay.” She assures him, her voice soft and careful.

“No. It’s not. You’re a kid, you shouldn’t have to calm me down through my breakdown. The breakdown that shouldn’t have happened around you in the first place.”

“But you were hurting. You’ve helped me so much – I just wanted to help you, too. That’s what friends do.”

And that… That almost makes Eddie explode again, but he manages a half-sobbing-half-laughing sound and turns to smile at her.

“Oh, so, you admit that we’re friends…”

“Just this once.” She looks up at him, eyes wide with a teasing threat.

Eddie clears his throat.

“You ready to continue the movie?”

“Are you ?!”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

She looks at him like she doesn’t believe what she’s hearing for one second but politely tries to cover it up.

“Seriously. I just had to let it out of my system. I’m all good now. I promise.”

“Okay. Fine. But I swear, if you go crying on me again I’ll pull an ‘I told you so”.”

“Deal.” He reaches out his hand to her. She takes it into hers and shakes on their agreement.

They resume the watch and this time it goes smoothly. 

Eddie doesn’t say anything when it’s Mara’s turn to cry during the ending scene. Normally, he’d tease her about it but he can’t let himself do that. Not after what she’s done for him tonight.

They discuss their favorite songs from the movie as they clean up after themselves. Mara also says she really liked the colorful animals with bright patterns and Eddie tells her they are called alebrijes and that they are a part of Mexican folklore.

Then Mara says that her favorite storyline was Héctor, Imelda, and Coco’s. Eddie shares the same sentiment.

“I just think it was cute how much Héctor and Imelda loved each other, they were soulmates. And Héctor fighting to get to see Coco at least one more time was precious. Reminded me of how hard mom and mama fought to get me home.”

“I’m glad they finally did. And I agree, that was my favorite part of the story, too. It is every time I watch this movie.”

“Does it remind you of you, your wife, and son?”

“At some point it did, but only a little. Now, it makes me think of Christopher, myself, and Buck.”

“Buck? Actually, you know what, that makes sense. But if you ever remarried, would you want your wife to be someone like Imelda?”

“I doubt I’ll ever remarry.”

“Yeah, no, I know you won’t. But hypothetically?”

“Ouch?” Her being nice to him didn’t last long. The betrayal. He shakes his head as she giggles nonchalantly. He considers his next words for a moment. He’s already done this once today, he might as well do it again. 

What the hell, sure. 

“Hypothetically…” he begins, dragging it out. “If I ever remarried, I’d want it to be someone like Héctor. I– I’d want it to be a Héctor.” He turns around to face her, waiting for her response, for any reaction on the girl’s end.

She snorts. “Figures.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“I swear you and Christopher will be the death of me. Why do you guys like bullying me so much?”

“It brings us unmatched joy.”

“I noticed.” He deadpans as he turns back around to the sink to pour the leftover liquid from their milkshakes from the bottom of the cup down the drain. Then, there’s a sudden pressure around his lower back. He feels two arms around him and smiles. He hears Mara say something but the words get lost in the fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry? What was that?” He teases. “I couldn’t hear you!” He adds, raising a hand to his ear, even though he knows she won’t see him do that. 

This time, an annoyed groan comes out, rumbling against his back.

“I’m proud of you,” Mara says clearly once she moves her mouth from his shirt, quietly so she doesn’t feel embarrassed, but loud enough so that he knows it’s sincere.

“Thanks. I’m proud of myself too.” He finally half-hugs her back. “Wow! You’re real generous today! Two hugs in one day? Your new personal record!” His voice overflowing with amusement. 

“Don’t test me.” She says, still hugging him and pressing her index finger in a declaration of warning. He doesn’t respond after, just lets the moment sink in and hopes he’ll never forget it.

They don’t stay like this for long. The sound of a key turning makes Mara jolt, alarming her of reality. Eddie has a soft spot for that girl so he protects her ego and doesn’t say anything about either hug.

When it’s time for him to go home, he makes sure he has his phone, wallet, and keys, says respective goodbyes to Karen, and Denny, and promises Hen he’ll see her at work in the morning. When it’s Mara’s turn to say her goodbye to Eddie, she looks behind, over her shoulder, to make sure no one else can see or hear them.

“This is for you.” She moves her hands from behind her back and gives Eddie a purple card covered in Halloween-themed stickers. He notices a few Jack-o'-lanterns, a couple of bats, and a cartoonish white blanket ghost with a black-marker mustache hand-drawn under its eyes. He can’t believe this girl. “What’s this?” He asks.

“Can’t you read?”

He can. And he does. Thank you very much . He feels something, a piece of paper, on the other side and turns the card to read what’s written on the back. It’s an invitation to a school play with a ticket attached to the card with scotch tape.

And woah. This almost makes him cry again. 

Damn it, Diaz. How many tears can you possibly have left? I can’t cry in front of her again! Oh, Frank will be pleased to hear about this. 

“Thank you for this. I didn’t realize you’d want me there.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course, I want you there.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, avoiding looking at him, but he swears he notices a hopeful look on her face.

“Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

That finally makes her look up at him and she giggles.

“I have to go now, but I promise I’ll be there.”

“Okay. You better not be late!”

“I would never!” He exclaims fake offended.

“Sure! Okay. You can go now. Bye! Love you.”

That makes Eddie falter back and take a long look at her. Never mind, maybe he will cry in front of her for the second time after all. He manages to blink it away before it’s too late to hold it back. 

“Love you, too. Bye!” He settles for a simple, honest response and walks out the door.

He can’t believe what today was – not only did he get two love declarations today but the man he loves asked him to do couple costumes for Halloween. Not to mention Mara comforting him through a breakdown over missing his son. It feels like weeks have passed between each of these events. The entire memory-rich day feels like… like a… Fever dream, his mind helpfully suggests. And he couldn’t agree more.

Once he’s inside his car, he promises himself another cry-session the second he’s back home.

Holy shit.

                                                    ***

 On day 143 of living without Chris around but knowing he will come back home eventually, Eddie and Buck are on a walk on Sixth Street. This time, they don’t get lost on the way somewhere but find themselves walking down the street from their family’s Halloween party. 

They are both a little drunk. Actually, they are the perfect level of drunk to be giggly and loose but still in control of their actions. But their walks are still wobbly and they keep pumping shoulders as they pass shops and bars on their way to–

They’re not sure where they’re heading, too lost in the conversation to remember something so trivial.

The party was cut short when Bobby reminded them that all eleven of them had work tomorrow and needed to get a few hours of sleep in their systems. “We can’t be people’s lifeline if we don't help ourselves first.” He said. Nobody felt like arguing with facts.

“Aw, man. This is cute.” Buck comments, eyes pointed at a young woman dressed as Poison Ivy gifting her, presumably, girlfriend, dressed as Harley Quinn, an elaborate bouquet of red and green flowers. “I wish someone would give me flowers.”

“Tommy never did?”

“Nah.”

“What a jerk.” Eddie puts his five cents in. 

He looks around, trying to locate a working flower shop. Once he fails to, he decides that looking for an open one further down the street is futile and he tells Buck to wait where he is standing. He walks to the nearest cafe where in larger pots flowers are growing. He looks behind and to each side, making sure there are no people or cameras that can catch him in the act. He pulls out several flowers – pansies and snapdragons – from different pots and forms a bouquet of color clashing but still beautiful flowers. He searches for something to tie them together with. When he thinks he won’t find anything, he remembers his necklace. He reaches for the chain and finds Jee’s light blue hair ribbon next to the St Christoper medallion. 

His good luck charms.

“Here,” Eddie says, extending his arm towards Buck so he can take the flowers from him. “You deserve to be given even better bouquets but this one is pretty decent, if I do say so myself. Look, this one even has a tie that matches your eyes.” He isn’t sure if the growing blush on Buck’s cheecks is his doing or the alcohol’s. He hopes it’s the former.

“You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I did this because it’s you.” He tells him honestly.  

The smile Buck gives him, he thinks, is one that men would go into war for. The world around them pales. The saturation of LED lights, bright elaborate costumes, and eccentric decorations goes all the way down, leaving Buck the only colorful spot in Eddie’s vision. The only sound he can hear is that of his own heartbeat getting louder and louder with each inch Buck leans in closer. 

For a second – for one wild second – he thinks Buck is going to close whatever distance is left between them entirely, sealing it with a kiss. 

They are standing so close together that the brims of their hats all but bump into each other.

Eddie looks up at Buck and doesn’t stand a chance against the intense softness flaming in the man’s eyes. His ability to hold back burns down instantly and he leans in to meet Buck halfway. With how close their faces are, he can see each microscopic line of Buck’s birthmark, and it feels like he’s seeing the color pink for the first time. He knows he’ll never see it the same again.  He feels the warmth radiate off Buck, heat stronger than the one that had just reduced his composure to ashes just moments ago. In the position they are in, their forearm tattoos under the layered shirts and jackets line up perfectly. Eddie doesn’t see it but he feels and knows. His body’s developed a reaction to whenever their matching inks are in close proximity – an anchor that grounds Eddie, an invisible safety rope. No matter what their relationship is up against, whatever dead-end points they reach – the symbols on their skin will always tie them together and bring them home. 

Eddie wants to come home.

Now.

He closes his eyes and leans in.

A car drives past them with the squeaking sound of tires and the roaring thunder of the engine that makes the air around them rumble. They both shift in their spots, moving further apart the more they come back to reality.

Buck checks his watch and breaks the silence first. “Shit. It’s getting late. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you an Uber.” Eddie takes out his phone before he is even done with the sentence. 

“You should come with me, stay the night. It’s safer this way.”

“I kinda wanna walk for a bit. But it’s cute that you worry. I’ll be fine, though. I’ll text you when I’m back at my place.” He tells him, looking in the distance where Buck’s Uber is pulling up closer.

“Promise?” Buck makes sure, halfway inside the car, looking over the open door.

“I swear.” 

He does.

Buck looks at him one more time with gratitude in his eyes and relief on his face and gets into the car.

Eddie ends up walking down the street for another fifteen minutes, the alcohol in his system still numbs his thinking process enough so he doesn’t go inwards, overthinking the last however many minutes – he is not sure it couldn’t have lasted longer than three minutes and seventeen seconds – of his time with Buck earlier.

 At some point, he notices a familiar lamppost with a no less familiar street sign. Sixth Street, huh? Figures. He thinks. 

He takes out his phone and takes a photo of the sign lit up in the lamp’s light.

Eventually, he gets an Uber, too.

He texts Buck as he turns the key in his front door.

Buck’s response is short.

Sleep well🤠🩷

Eddie does.

                                                     ***

The day after comes sooner than he’d hoped. He doesn’t feel hungover, the opposite, rather, this is the most energized he’s felt in the last five months.

The realization of the events from the day before hasn’t settled in yet, so Eddie doesn’t overthink, he doesn’t panic. He makes himself breakfast, though. He eats his toast with scrambled eggs on top, drinks his coffee mostly black with the tiniest splash of milk, and when he makes enough food for just one person without breaking down, he feels hopeful. He doesn’t shave, having grown to dig his new look, washes his face, brushes his hair, and gets dressed allowing himself to just be. 

His head is blissfully (suspiciously) empty of any remnants of the night before, on some level he understands what had happened last night but feels rather calm and collected about it. That doesn’t last past walking into the firehouse and bumping face-first into Buck’s back. 

“Oh. Sorry, Eddie. Didn’t notice you. You okay?”

Well, he seems… normal. Eddie tries to calculate if that’s a good thing. Normally, he’s able to figure out the connotations and possible consequences of Buck’s behavior easily, but this time it’s different – he’s never almost kissed Buck dressed as cowboy lovers on Halloween night before, so this equation is gonna take time to solve.

“Yeah!” He says exaggeratedly loudly. “All good.” He adds before he can register Buck’s reaction and heading to the stairs leading towards the kitchen where he notices, Hen is sitting with a puzzled look on her face.

“What was that about?” She asks in a low voice once he gets upstairs.

“I’m gay and I almost kissed Buck last night.” 

Oh? Guess now I’m just saying things. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

“Didn’t you to go dressed as –”

“Yes.”

“How did that feel?”

“Don’t ask.”

“How did you survive the night?”

“Alcohol helped.”

“So, are you in love with him?” She asks in a quiet, private voice that only the two of them and the air between them can catch.

Eddie nods affirmatively.

Hen’s face goes through seven several emotions in the span of a few seconds like a catalog of expressions in a video game before finally setting on that of understanding and inviting nature.

“Ah! Tale as long as time. If this makes you feel better, we’ve all been there and the ones that came before us. Or most of us, anyway.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“The gays.” She puts it simply. “A lot of us have been in love with our best friend at some point on our journey. Some of us, more than once. Welcome to the club.” She takes his hand in hers and shakes it, getting an unamused huff out of Eddie.

“Didn’t know this came with the position. Wasn’t in my copy of the homosexual code of conduct.”

“Well, it’s not always stated in the main clauses…”

“You mean it’s in the fine print?”

“Well, yes. You always gotta read the fine print, Eddie.”

“I usually do.”

They both laugh at that which, thankfully, makes Eddie relax, tension in his body slowly dissolving.

“Does anybody else know?”

“The gay thing or the Buck thing?”

“Either.”

“The gay thing – Chris, Buck, you and Mara, my therapist, and a priest at Bobby’s church.”

“You told my daughter before you told me?”

“Oops? Oh, and I’m fairly certain Karen has me figured out at this point – she is a scientist.”

She rolls her eyes and snorts light-heartedly. “And what about the Buck thing?”

“Well, actually, other than you, the only people who know are Mara and Chris. I think they knew I was in love with him before I did. They don’t know about the almost-kissing part, though.” 

“They’re smart kids. Probably smarter than all of us combined.” 

She is not wrong. They both know their kids are witty and wise beyond their years. How are we the ones that raised them?! He wonders. Guess, we’re not that bad after all. He answers his question. Frank would be relieved their sessions finally seem to be fruitful.

“How are you feeling, though? With all that I mean.”

“Honestly? I am kinda freaked out about last night. Not in a negative way. I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I really fucking hope he’s not mad at me. Other than that, the whole ‘Eddie Diaz gay at 33’ thing is going well. It feels like my life finally makes sense and not just the present – past, too. I don’t feel like a shallow, hollow facade of a man pretending like he knows what he’s doing. I’m no longer on the verge of disintegrating at any given point.” He takes a long, steady breath. He’s got this. “I am free. I am me.”

Hen’s face softens, concern melting away, and she shines a knowing smile. Eddie is certain she can relate to his words.

“Thank you for telling me. I promise I won’t spill your tea until you are ready to tell the rest of the team.”

“Thanks. I think I will soon.”

“Okay. Oh! And I think you should talk to Buck about yesterday. Something’s telling me, he is the furthest thing from disappointed. Disappointed, maybe, that you didn’t kiss him.”

“Ugh,” he groans, face dropping into his cupped hands. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

“I am not. That boy would burn the world if that kept you warm. No one – and I mean it, Eddie – could ever compete with you in his eyes. Because there’s no competing if you are the only one for him.”

                                                    ***

For the next few days, Eddie feels. He feels the worries and the hopes, the panic that comes and goes in waves, the tide never fully overtaking him now that he knows how to regulate his nervous system. He lets the thoughts that pop into his mind be, he tells them neither to go away nor to stay. He just observes. He lets himself wonder if there’s a chance Buck feels the same way. He recalls countless instances of the two of them – at work, at their places, at Christopher’s school events. He can’t help but take a moment to admire each memory and grow further into love with Buck. 

He also can’t stop thinking about the moment they shared on Halloween – his observations on them are conflicting. On one hand, Eddie wishes he hadn’t been a coward, he wishes he’d asked Buck for a kiss. On the other hand, he’s glad the kiss never happened while they were both intoxicated. If there is a future where the two of them share these feelings for one another, he hopes he gets to be fully present for their first kiss.

Eddie is sure he wanted to kiss Buck when he was drunk. He’s no less certain he still wants to kiss him now that he’s sober.

The thing is, Eddie thinks Buck might have wanted to kiss him that night, too. He thinks Buck might still want to kiss him now. But he’s afraid his wishful thinking will always remain wishful. Whatever the reality is, he argues, he just hopes he didn’t push Buck away by crossing his boundaries. He is content with being Buck’s best friend, his co-worker, and his partner on the job for the rest of time, if he’s allowed. He is not content with losing the only person in this world who can get through to him even Eddie is defensive, whose help he’s accepted despite having his walls up at all times, and, when he thinks about what the Priest had said, the person to whom he prays – his savior. 

Maybe, there is a future where Buck calls him his but Eddie’s not sure he’s brave enough to find out. He is definitely not brave enough to bet on it.

Then, out of nowhere, the strangest idea pops into his head. It’s something he hasn’t done in a while.

But he’s been doing differently these days.

In a sweeping return to what he’s gotten unused to, Eddie asks for a sign.

                                                  ***

It is day 148 of his new life and the day of the school play.

Mara revealed to him that she had talked to the organizers to reserve Eddie a seat with the best view of the stage: the handmade decorations of paper mache moon serving background in the scenes representing outer space, the greenness of the paint covering a creation of his own – alien eyes on top of a brown cowboy hat and Mara’s acting triumph, and is also located next to her mothers and brother. There’s a seat with his name on it reserved in her family.

He puts his phone on silent as soon as he’s in his chair, takes out his camera to videotape the performance, and doesn’t hide his excitement.

When the lights go dim and the people around him start shouting in encouraging anticipation, he hits the record button on his camera. He tries to record everything – the details of the set, the lines spoken by Mara’s clubmates, but ultimately, he ends up following his niece with the lens of his camera each time she glistens in the stage light. He allows pride to rule over him when he sees her smile with nothing but her eyes the moment she notices him in the crowd, where he’d promised he’d be.

Eddie can only hope that to her this moment means a third of what it means to him.

He doesn’t know this now, but in the years that follow, she will come back to this memory time and time again to recall this day as one of her core memories precisely because he was there.

As the lights come back around the auditorium, blinding the eyes of the viewers, he wishes the play had gone for an encore.

He ends the recording, stands up from his seat, and starts clapping and wooing louder than anybody in the auditorium. That’s my girl! He thinks. He couldn’t be prouder of Mara. Actually. Scratch that. He’s pretty sure he can and will be. Their hard work paid off so well – she was incredible and he could sense the audience paying their complete attention to the act unfolding before their eyes every time she was in a scene.

When he, Hen, Karen, and Denny leave their chairs to go find Mara behind the stage curtain, Eddie doesn’t assume or wish she treats him in any way different than teasing, so when he gets chosen for the first post-performance celebratory hug of the night, he doesn’t reciprocate for a good ten seconds when the girl who’s made bullying Eddie her life’s purpose closes her arms around him. 

This is their third hug and, just like the saying goes, it’s the charm. 

                                                     ***

It is day 149 of being a new version of Eddie Diaz.

He had, for lack of anything better to do, gone on the walk down the street of which he’s become a regular, to take pictures with his Canon – his coping mechanism turned hobby.

 At some point, he doesn’t remember the hour exactly, Buck joins him under the premise of emotional support and being the ultimate inspiration in the eyes of many.

Little does he know the extent to which the statement is true.

He doesn’t know he is a muse to Eddie.

They find themselves in a place they’ve been finding themselves awfully a lot lately.

“Take a picture of me here,” Buck asks. No, not asks, tells him to because he knows Eddie will, and goes to stand right under the lamppost, under the Sixth St. sign. 

So Eddie does. He lowers himself and points the camera at Buck so that the angle seals him in this moment from the waist up. The shot is mostly tree branches, bright red leaves that contrast beautifully with the almost-pastel teal of the sunlit sky, the black outline of the lamppost, and the street sign, and underneath there’s Buck. Eddie thinks that the angle, that the shot, is beautiful, and that the sky is almost as bright as the smile Buck gives his camera. 

 The sky is almost as bright as the smile Buck gives him. 

As he stood there, radiating the gift of his delightful spirit with the nature around them, his hair shone like a honey-gold halo.

Oh.

There it is.

“How is it?” Buck asks him, still standing in the same spot.

Eddie comes closer to him and shows him the picture as certainly forms in his head and the shape of an old habit slowly starts to manifest in his core.

“Damn, Eddie, that looks good.”

“You sure do.” He says, letting his truth take control, “You look beautiful.” He adds, the fear of rejection taking a step back to gift him this moment.

“Uhm… Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie hums at that, “You look soft… Kissable too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Eddie nods. “Want me to prove it to you?”

“Mhm. Please.”

They close the distance separating them with one step of their feet and one press of their lips. The kiss is careful, with the taste of years of unspoken declarations, a shadow of yearning, and underneath that, a hint of everlasting trust. Eddie feels the rays of sunlight shining through the dry tree branches that grace his eyelids and thinks he’s never been happier to have gone out for a walk.

“God, when you were avoiding me, I thought you hated me for almost kissing you on Halloween.” These are the first words that leave Buck’s lips when they separate.

“You noticed?”

“You avoiding me? Yeah, you’re not that good at hiding stuff, Eddie.”

“It’s just you. Can’t hide shit from you, it’s like you see right through me. Though, if you actually could, you’d see that I wanted you to kiss me.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah ‘really’. I’m glad you didn’t, though. I wanted to be sober for our first kiss.”

“Did you? Does it mean you’ve been thinking of our first kiss?" There's a sly smile on his face. "Like in different scenarios? What, do you like me or something?” Buck quirks his eyebrow, which pairs up with his shit-eating smug and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“It does help to like the person you’re in love with and want to kiss.”

“You are in love with me?”

“Is that too soon? Forgive me, I don’t know when it’s appropriate to say that, it’s my first time.”

“Actually," Buck holds up his index finger, "it’s quite common for queer couples to say their first ‘I love yous’ early into or even before getting into a relationship.”

“Is that what we are? A couple? In a relationship?”

“Uhm. Well… if that’s what you want. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed?”

“I want to. I really want to. I might actually lose my mind if I don’t get to call you my boyfriend sometime soon... I mean. If it's all right with you?”

The conversation picks up speed with each line spoken and Eddie feels like a teenager equipped with negative-level vocabulary and trivial love confession he’d seen on TV in his mind.

“Woah! Slow down. I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in this relationship!” He shoots Eddie a reassuring smile that tints the conversation to a whole new shade of intimacy. "It's better than all right. It's all that I want."

With these words, the uneasiness fades as he loses the tension ounce by ounce.

He takes a moment to bask in the pleasure of being Buck’s. 

“I love you.” He tells him honestly and means it because there’s no arguing with the order of the world.

“I love you, too.” He gets in return and knows that Buck means it, too.

They crash their lips together and Eddie understands, now, after long years of kissing people out of obligation, that this is what kissing someone is supposed to feel like. 

The emotions that fill him are a kaleidoscope and he swears he can feel the colors. 

He feels so much. Feels – with every bite – like he’s swallowed the Sun and now it’s burning inside him, becoming the fuel that keeps him afloat. (He functions relatively decent on empty but feels good to have a backup to power him up). This simple act of affection makes the world around them seem like the safest place to be. With each tentative brush of their lips, he believes more and more – there’s a future for him that is happy. He feels Buck’s stubble scratch his chin, his own mustache scratching Buck’s upper lip, the rough hairs tickle his nose, making him giggle into the kiss, and the shared stinging feeling is dizzying. Any version of the world where he doesn’t get to kiss Buck every day he had claimed to be okay with is wiped out of his consciousness. There is nothing that could stop him now from building a life where this is his reality, a part of his daily routine.

He wishes he’d been quicker on the uptake, and had realized the complicated nature of his feelings sooner. He doesn’t have time for regrets, not that there are many when he thinks about it – "sometimes you see old prayers be answered years later because you needed time to grow into a version of yourself that’d accept those answers.” He’s grateful he has finally reached this point. He tip toes and Buck deepens their kiss once more, cupping Eddie’s face and knocking the air out of his lungs. Eddie, in return, commits – he has no time for the vague remnants of regret but he does have time to make a promise to listen and to love Buck with precision and determination.

There’s a vibration he feels through the blissful fogginess. He decides to ignore it, he is allowed to enjoy this moment a while longer.

But then another buzz comes. And another. And another. And one more. 

This must be important.

He breaks the kiss and apologizes to Buck with his eyes.

(Buck eats it up.)

Eddie takes out his phone and sees several texts from his son.

In the seconds between unlocking his phone and opening the Messages app, his mind goes through nearly a dozen different worrisome scenarios that could’ve motivated Chris to text him five times in a row – some that include him getting hurt, some that involve his parents in one way or another. Eddie is robotically coming up with a rescue plan for each one before he knows it, just to prepare ahead for whatever the emergency is. He makes sure to remember little details like calling 9-1-1 if that’s needed, makes a mental note to reschedule his appointment with Frank in case he’ll have to travel, and thinks of things he might need to do in case the worst comes true.

What he doesn’t account for is that life has recently gotten very good.

                       So, when he reads the first text, his heart momentarily stops before picking up an increased pace.

There’s a flight to LA tomorrow.

He hears the throbbing sound of his heart and feels the blood in his veins get colder. There’s a screenshot of an e-ticket attached with the message.

I don’t want to stay here anymore.

Bisabuela will fly with me.

I’m coming home, Dad.

If that’s all right with you.

I miss you.

He feels Buck's hand gently and carefully touching his. The feeling is grounding enough that he remembers to look at his boyfriend and show him the texts.

Next thing he knows, strong arms are wrapping his shoulders, fingertips softly stroking his back, and lips pressing to kiss his forehead. They stay like this for no longer than a minute but it’s enough for the man’s presence to bring Eddie back into the moment. Now, he hears birds chirping in the trees and cars driving by.

He looks back at his phone, the screen of which somehow hasn’t gone dark, and types a response.

                                                                        It’s more than all right, Chris.

 He turns his head to Buck and looks at him with an unspoken question in his eyes. Buck does this thing he does that shows Eddie – he understands him with no words needed to be spoken. They both nod.

                                                                           Buck and I will pick you up.

                                                                           I miss you, too. We both do.

Eddie only thinks he might die come tomorrow once.

                                                    ***

On day 150 of learning to be Eddie, his son finally comes home.

The realization of the events from the day before has settled in somewhere between checking there’s enough of Christopher’s favorite snacks in the fridge at one in the morning and hurriedly cleaning the already squicky-clean kitchen counter at six. So Eddie doesn’t allow his old habits to take control — doesn’t think he didn’t do anything to deserve his son's return home. He makes him and Buck breakfast, though. They eat their omelets with toast on the side, drink their coffee cold, and try their best to preoccupy themselves by eating up some time waiting to leave for the airport. Buck shaves, and they both wash their faces, teasingly fighting for the space by the sink, Buck picks up his toothbrush without thinking like his done countless times before except now the context is different. Eddie doesn’t fight the fire this domestic act ignites in his chest and takes in the moment. They get dressed stopping here and there mid-putting on their clothes to share menthol-flavored kisses.

They get in the car and turn on the radio. “What I Like About You” by The Romantics starts playing around five minutes into their trip and Buck adjusts the volume.

“I love this song!” Eddie tells him.

“I know,” Buck responds taking Eddie’s hand in his and moving it close to his mouth, not quite kissing but rather brushing his lips over Eddie’s knuckles.

To be loved is to be known.

And no one knows Buck and Eddie better than Eddie and Buck.

                                                      ***

They arrive at the airport with thirty minutes to spare – enough to buy and finish their second coffee of the day.

The second they throw out their empty paper cups, Eddie hears the word he’s only been called through screen and texts for the past 150 days, “Dad!” Chris shouts.

The world around him slows down and before he can stop himself, he runs up to his son to tug him into a starving hug.

This is real.

He’s hugging his son, his lifeline, his lucky charm for the first time in 150 excruciatingly long days.

This isn’t a dream. This is his life.

He holds Christopher tight, allowing himself the sentimental luxury, for just a few more moments before pulling apart for the most part and telling his boy he’s grown taller. 

Christopher lets out a shy giggle at being in the spotlight. 

He lets go of Chris fully and moves to the side to greet his abuela with a hug of her own.

When he turns his attention back to his son, he sees Buck holding Chris in a tight embrace like he used to when the boy was younger.

Eddie takes a step back to admire the view unfolding right before his eyes. He takes another quick step back, takes out his phone, and takes a picture of Buck and Chris smiling as they talk to each other.

As he adds the new memory to the pre-designated folder, he notices a pattern – some of the most life-turning events that had led him to this moment in the past five moments have all happened under the same, Sixth Street sign.

Eddie scoffs and wants to laugh.

Maybe there’s a place for signs in Eddie’s life again.

                                                 ***

Eventually, Jee’s ribbon returns to its rightful place and the picture Eddie took of Buck under the lamppost on Sixth Street finds its way to the chain of lucky charms on his neck in the form of a heart-shaped case a few weeks later.