Who's Your Daddy?

Chapter 11

On an unseasonably warm Saturday night in November, Dante arrived at Sidney's apartment panting and wiping sweat from his forehead. It reminded Sidney of how he looked after sex.

"Sorry I'm late," Dante said, as Sidney pulled him into a tight hug. "It's mad-crowded out there."

Sidney kissed Dante long, soft, and slow. Then he gave him a hard smack on the ass as they walked into the guest bedroom.

"Yeah, it's Waterfire tonight," Sidney said, leading Dante into the spare bedroom. "When I first moved here, I went all the time. I loved the primal strangeness of the whole thing, all those people mesmerized by the river on fire. But now I barely glance out the window when it's happening. I can't even tell you the last time I've been."

"I've never been," said Dante. He put his messenger bag on the floor.

Sidney stopped turning down the sheets.

"Never?" Sidney said, "I thought you grew up in Providence."

"Yeah," said Dante, "But not over this way."

Sidney nodded.

"When shit's on fire in my hood, it ain't nothing to celebrate."

Sidney laughed.

"We should go," Sidney said.

Dante stopped unzipping his jeans. "Now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sidney said. "You should experience it at least once in your life."

"And what about..." Dante pointed to his crotch.

"Later," Sidney said.

Sidney and Dante walked out of Sidney's building and down the stone steps into Providence River Park. All around were people staring at piles of wood burning in metal wire baskets in the middle of the river. They continued walking, as the path changed from cobblestones to brick and they made their way past several RISD buildings. The crowd was a mix of hand-holding couples, young and old; impassive college kids paying more attention to their phones than the fire; parents rolling children in elephantine strollers; and dewy faced teens intoxicated by being on their own in the night.

As a tide of faces rushed by, Sidney briefly feared that he would run into someone he knew. How would he explain Dante? But then Sidney realized that no explanation would be necessary. People would see an older gay gentleman with someone much younger and do the math; nothing Sidney could do or say would stop two and two from equaling four.

"It smells like Christmas," Dante said.

"What?" Sidney asked, snapping back to the moment.

"The smell in the air," Dante said. He took a deep whiff of burning pine. "It's like Christmas."

Sidney laughed. "I guess it is."

"Yeah," Dante said. "When I was a kid, we used to have a house, and we'd always have a fresh tree at Christmas."

"What happened?" Sidney asked.

"Typical hood shit," Dante said. "Dad peaced out. Mom couldn't keep up with the bills. Next thing you know, no more house."

"Sorry to hear that."

Dante shrugged.

"What does your mom do now?"

"She's on disability. I try to help her out whenever I can."

"Is that why you started..."

"Tricking? Yeah. I mean, I needed the money."

"And you obviously enjoyed it," Sidney said.

"Well, the weird thing is that tricking actually made me cool with being with guys. I always felt that maybe I wanted to experiment. But I didn't really know how to go about it, you know. So tricking, in a way, helped me get to know myself better."

Sidney nodded.

"But, more and more," Dante continued. "I'm starting to think it's time for something else."

Sidney felt a tightening in his gut.

They arrived back at Sidney's apartment, fucked madly, and afterward stayed in bed holding each other longer than they ever had before. At one point, Dante got up to piss, and when he came back to bed, he didn't get in front of Sidney as usual, but instead got behind him and curled his arm across Sidney's thick, round chest. Sidney felt a flash of indignation at first, but then he slowly gave in to a feeling that was rare for him: surrender.

The next morning, Sidney leaned against the kitchen counter dazedly watching coffee brew in his Moccamaster. The pot filled and Sidney poured the coffee into a large, white ceramic mug, added two scoops of sugar, and a healthy dose of half and half. He watched as the light brown mixture swirled around in his cup and then peacefully settled as if it had never been touched.

Dante walked in. "What's up?" he said.

"Oh nothing," said Sidney, "I just need to get myself going for work."

"It's Sunday," said Dante.

"Yeah, but my assistant just called... well, she called earlier... she emailed me last night... texted and said that she couldn't open today and–"

"Yo, if you want me to go, just tell me to go. All this made-up shit is corny."

Sidney stood up and placed his hands on Dante's bare shoulders. "I don't want you to go, but I need you to go."

"Why?" Dante said, breaking away from Sidney's grip. "We had a great time last night. That's why I want you to stop fucking paying me. I want to be with you, just you. You're the first guy I've said that to."

"That's the thing," said Sidney calmly as he sipped from his cup. "I'm not trying to be somebody's first boyfriend. The shit never works out, and I'm not gonna to put myself through all that."

"But I'm not like everybody else."

Sidney moved toward Dante and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I know you believe that, baby. But every guy who's ever done me wrong has said the same damn thing."

"I don't get it," Dante said. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Afraid?" Sidney laughed heartily. "I'm afraid of what every other motherfucker is afraid of. I'm afraid of looking like a goddamned fool."

"As long as you know what you want," Dante said, turning back toward the guest bedroom.

"I know what I can live with."