Page 45 of The Time It Takes

It was such a safe feeling to be held in his big strong arms. It always had been, but in new ways now, too. Wonderful ways.

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When we told the pack, we did it together. Well, he did most of the talking, but I stood by his side and held his hand, and met their gazes, silently daring them to make a mockery of Arlie. They didn't.

Some were surprised. Some weren't. They dealt with it. They shook our hands and congratulated us, and offered to make a special meal to celebrate our bond. I felt a little weird about that, but Arlie accepted quickly, with a big smile. He told me later that was the usual thing, if someone found a partner.

Partner. He didn't say mate, but I knew that's what he meant. And really, that was a good sign. If they took our dating as seriously as choosing a mate, that had to be good. I was taking it seriously, too.

We started looking for a place together right away. The market was tough right now, and we had to keep lowering our standards until we could find somewhere we could afford that wasn't too long of a drive to work or the pack. It was a shitty little rental, not quite big enough for two grown men. But we'd be sharing the bedroom, and really, we weren't home that much anyway. My stuff could stay in storage if it didn't fit. Or maybe I could pare down and go minimal. Whatever—we had a place, and we moved into it.

I felt so self-conscious as we moved in, like everyone could guess we were queer, everyone could judge and laugh at the two guys moving in together. I dreaded the scrutiny, the laughter, the mockery. I felt like a coward, and I hated it, but I wasn't very brave and confident in my newfound identity. Even though I loved dating Arlie, the whole "being out" thing felt like a mountain I'd never be strong enough to climb.

Being with Arlie was wonderful. We were figuring out the relationship, even the sexual aspects—and it turns out we were pretty compatible and it wasn't hard to figure out what we both liked. Our communication was good, and we always had fun, and we felt the other things, the warm and loving things, too. We even got brave enough to say it. Maybe it was rushing to say "love" so soon—but we'd both been feeling it. Keeping to some artificial timeline wasn't going to work for us. Maybe because we'd been so close for so long already.

The rest of it—facing the truth about myself, releasing the shame—that was harder.

Arlie didn't take it personally, that I could spend the night in bed with him, and enjoy the hell out of it, but feel so much internalized shame the next day, like I either shouldn't have enjoyed that, or should have known sooner that I did.

And then the shame of being closeted, when I should be brave. People half my age were braver than me, maybe braver than I could ever be. It wasn't that I thought being out was the most important thing in the world.

I just didn't want to feel ashamed, to feel like I had to hide. But I sort of did, unless we were ready to be open with the precinct.

I wasn't. Arlie said he'd rather wait for that, and the way he said it told me a lot. Like maybe he'd be fine with waiting forever. I wasn't sure he really would—or how I'd feel in the future about it—but right now, we didn't need any snide remarks from coworkers. It would be nice to think they would all be open and accepting, but I knew very well it wasn't true. Maybe we'd be ready to fight that battle someday. Right now, just surviving, getting settled, and figuring out our new relationship felt like enough to tackle.

How did regular queer folks deal with this? I mean "regular" as in people who didn't take until their freaking thirties to figure it out. I was a grown man, mature and capable and reasonably well-rounded. And I was a wreck about this—about as mature and emotionally capable as a teenager. It was like going through puberty a second time, trying to figure out everything all over again. Where I fit in the world. How to hold my head up. How open to be, who to trust, and who to stay hidden from.

Arlie found a discreet support group for LGBT people we could attend—virtually or in person. We started going, and I kept going to therapy, too.

Dr.Cavan proved to be a good resource, accepting and calm, listening as I talked things through. I was glad I'd picked him; for whatever reason, he was a good fit for me. Easy to talk to. For a long time, I'd felt like my problems were stupid and not worth talking about. But he took me seriously, and that made it easier to take myself seriously, too. Figuring out my shit was important, even if it might look like it should be easy from the outside. From the inside, it was taking a lot of work.

Some days, it was almost easy to hold my head up.

Some days, it was really hard.

The support group was excruciating at first, and then just awkward, and then a little more comfortable. In time, I started to look forward to it, to feel comfortable there, accepted and more like myself. Because I was finally starting to figure out who that was.

Through it all, by my side—Arlie.

I was so glad we were together. I could just look at him and feel grateful. Hard to believe my luck, honestly. I knew there was a world where it had gone differently—he'd ended up with Mason, or someone else who was a good match for him, I'd ended up alone, or with someone else, man or woman. We'd still have supported each other. We'd still have been partners, friends. But we wouldn't have had this. We still almost hadn't, even when we were both single, both interested—if we hadn't gotten brave enough to actually have that conversation, and that first kiss.

It was scary to think about missing out on him, on us.

We still ate with the pack sometimes. It was nice to still be part of the family. Sometimes work had us too busy to stop by as often—work and life. It wasn't the same as living there had been, but it wasn't bad.

When I saw Ellie, she didn't avoid me anymore. I was glad she'd been able to move on. Maybe it helped to know that I apparently wasn't much interested in girls lately—just Arlie.

I got my stuff out of storage. We didn't decorate the apartment much, but when we did, we both had a say. I had my gaming setup. We shared a big comfy (and sturdy) bed that had room for both of us. The neighbors weren't too loud.

All in all, it was good. Really good. Even without being the brave, confident guy I wanted to be someday, I had a good life with Arlie by my side. Living with him, loving him, was better than I could've dreamed.