Page 8 of Antagonist

“Too much,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s not even the first time I’ve heard it.

I’ve just never heard it from a perfect stranger.

“Look, this isn’t about you—”

“Save it,” I interrupt. “I’m out of here. Stay, leave. I don’t care.”

The lie falls easily from my lips.

I do care.

I just don’t know why I care that it’s coming from Harrison.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison,” I say without looking at him before I walk out of the room.

At least this one should be easy to get over.

It’s not like we’ll ever see each other again.

3

FLETCHER

I rollthe car window down, allowing the spring breeze to brush my hair away from my face. It’s sunny and mild, and even better, it’s going to stay like this over the weekend.

Perfect adventure weather.

I stare at my paint-stained fingers. My body is still buzzing with energy after finishing the painting I’ve been working on for the last month. It's a wedding anniversary gift from Sage and his brother to their parents, and I couldn’t be happier to have been asked to create such a special memory.

Only one thing can come close to the joy of spending time with my son, and that’s the moment when everything in my head clears and I know exactly how to finish a painting. The rush of finally seeing the colors blend perfectly, the brushstrokes that seem to touch the canvas just how I want. That’s happiness right there.

A few cars park near mine and I see familiar faces stepping out. Melodie, Charlie, Theo, and Ray. I get out of my car and join them.

“Good afternoon,” I say, approaching the group. “I’m loving the school-pickup-chic look. How do you all manage to look so effortlessly glamorous?”

They laugh, and Melodie puts an arm around my waist for a quick hug before releasing me. I’ve heard many stories about the tension between parents picking up their kids from school, but that’s not my experience.

This group of parents is the best, and I’m lucky they’ve welcomed my son and me into their fold.

“You know all those compliments will get you absolutely anything,” Theo says jokingly.

“Where would I even start?” I sigh.

“I can offer some ideas,” Ray says suggestively. I’ve never met a heterosexual, cisgender man more comfortable with his sexuality than Ray. “What’s with the outfit? Are you off to the lake this weekend?”

I do a mock twirl to show off my ripped jeans and old paint-stained college sweatshirt. “I am indeed. It’s the first really good weekend this year, so I want to take George out there.”

“I hear you,” Ray says. “ My oldest has a music recital tomorrow, but we’re hoping to be out there next weekend. The youngest won’t stop asking about fishing since he saw some show on TV.”

I nod, knowing exactly what show he’s talking about.

“You know I’d happily take him with us, but my idea of fishing is using a stick to point at the fish I want to take home from the store. Now, if he’s up for tree climbing or searching for treasures, then I’m your man.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Anyway,” I say, waving my hand in front of Theo, who's the only other single parent in the group. “Why are you all dolled up? Is there an event in town I don't know about?”

They all look at each other while Ray shakes his head. “There’s a new dad in town.”