Fenn Does It
Conclusion
The knock on the door made Sheridan hope it was either Mathan or Meredith. So much had been going on, and it was almost as if his friends’ tragedy had been sidelined by the rest of life. As long as Meredith had been living here, in Rossford, they had been friends. And now it seemed like she had gone off the deep end.
Really, she wasn’t over Robin Netteson, and Sheridan blamed Robin everyday. He remembered the night when he’d had sex with her to make her feel better. How strange it had been, like fucking a sister, like doing something he felt violated by. He didn’t let his mind stay there. There were so many unsafe places in his mind where he refused to go.
But it was Logan at the door, and Logan seemed to him bigger than ever. He had turned away from Logan, and he thought Logan had turned away from him.
“Can I come in?”
“You told me to get the fuck out.”
“You tried to make me feel ashamed of myself,” Logan said. “You tried to make me hate myself, because you were hating yourself.”
Sheridan just opened the door wider and let him come in.
“You got on the net, and you dug up things. You know mylife. You know everything I do. We met when you were working for Casey. How can you possibly tell me the reason you don’t want to be with me is because of what I am, and then try to make me hate myself for what I am?”
“No one’s trying to make you hate yourself.”
“You’re such bullshit, Sheridan,” Logan went on. “Total bullshit. And what would you rather have me do? Hook on the streets?”
“You could try normal work.” Logan blinked at him.
“Oh, really? Oh, don’t even!
“You know what?” Logan said. “I’m tired of apologizing to the world. You know? For years I have rationalized my work in my head. I’m always explaining to myself all of these people who would hate me if they had so much as a fucking clue as to what I did, and you know what? Fuck it.
“I hate normal work. I would rather do what I do than work behind a fucking desk all week for what I make in one film. I’m not ashamed of it, Sheridan! Even when I was a prostitute… Hell, people whore themselves out everyday! They sell their bodies for bullshit work. I fuck and get fucked by really hot guys, and I get to be a hot guy, and why should I have to explain that to anybody? Everybody would do it if they could.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Logan cocked his head, narrowed his eyes and looked at Sheridan. He could have said something withering, and Sheridan was waiting for him to. Always, in their relationship, Sheridan’s view of his own body in comparison to Logan’s had been an issue. Logan was perfect, because he had to be. Sheridan felt ordinary and insignificant next to him until Logan would run the back of his hand across his skin and, looking over him judge: “Perfect.” And then Sheridan would become perfect.
But Logan only said: “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“If we’re having sex…”
“And we are.”
“Yes! How can I say that I am having sex, behind Chay’s back, with someone who essentially is having sex, for a living, in front of my face. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s my job.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Sheridan repeated.
“What I do with other men is nothing like what I do with you. We’ve been through this before,” Logan said. “You’ve worked at the studio. You know the whole thing. What we do is so different.”
“But it isn’t,” Sheridan’s voice sounded like it was pleading. “If I… had a ten inch cock, four inches wide, and I wanted to fuck you…”
“That could not possibly happen, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you were shooting a movie it would happen, and you would take it, and I would give it to you, and it wouldn’t matter if it hurt or not, or if I cared if I was hurting you. That makes it different. You know it does.”
Sheridan moved in a half circle around the bed and sat down on the edge of it.
“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” Logan said.
“I can’t believe we’re still having it after all these years,” Sheridan told him.
“Did you think I would stop?”
“Yes!” Sheridan said. “Chay’s dad stopped for James! Paul stopped for Kirk. Or something like that. I thought you would stop. And how could it ever work with us if you didn’t? Casey never stopped for anyone. That’s why he’s still alone. It just can’t work. I though I knew you’d end it one day.”
Logan looked like he was making some decision, getting ready to say something. He was twisting his hands together. Finally he sat down and sat, “If I told you that I was going to stop. If I told you I don’t like to make promises, but I’m doing modeling so I can eventually get out of porn and escorting altogether, what then? I mean, I want to do other things. I’ve been modeling. For gay magazines, so its still raunchy. But I like it. I like myself, Sheridan. But… I would give up parts of myself. Would that change things?”
Sheridan looked miserable. His face was red, but he wasn’t crying. He was shaking his head.
“What do you want?” Logan said. “I’ll get up and leave, I swear. But just tell me if you want to be with me. Or if you want to be with Chay? I could be happy if he could be happy sharing you. But I don’t think he will.”
Sheridan’s head hung and he shook it in agreement.
“So me?” Logan asked. “Or Chay?”
“You,” Sheridan said, miserably. “I love you.”
“Um hum,” Tom said, looking distracted. “Uh huh…” and then, “Yeah.”
He hung up the phone and said nothing.
Danasia looked back at her husband, Ron, and her cousin, Mathan.
“Well?” Lee said.
“It was Fenn. From Chicago. He’s at Brendan and Kenny’s. I think he told Dylan the truth.”
Danasia raised her eyebrow for more explanation.
“You mean about you and Fenn? How you all split up? How Dylan was born?”
“He had to know sooner or later,” Tom said. “I just hoped for later. For never. In all fairness, Fenn doesn’t come off like a Boy Scout either.”
“He does come off a hell of a lot boy scoutier than you, though,” Danasia noted.
“Well, yes,” Tom said without rancor. “Yes, he does.”
“I can’t believe he just up and took Dylan,” said Mathan.
“Well, he called first. Early this morning,” Tom told him.
“He would have done it no matter what,” Danasia thought.
“Most likely,” Tom sat down at the table, becoming tired of Danasia.
“He said he needed to take Dylan away. I wonder if something happened to him. I think something’s not completely right with Dill, and Fenn hasn’t told me.”
“Hasn’t or won’t?”
Tom shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I figured I’d ask when it’s time.”
“It’s always time,” Lee said. “If you want to know. You’re his father.”
Tom nodded and then, yawning, put his hands in the air.
“Well, alright, let’s talk about something else.”
Let’s talk,” Ron Lewis said, “about what we were talking about before.”
“Which is?”
“How,” Danasia said to Mathan, “if this bitch wrote you a letter and then just left, you need to let her the fuck go.”
“But it’s my Meredith.”
“I don’t know her that well,” Ron said.
“I don’t either,” his wife admitted. “Which is why it’s easier for me to say let her go.”
“Things have just been strange between us for so long,” Mathan said, laying his large brown hands on the table. “Maybe letting her go is best.”
“Letting her go, or getting up and finding her,” Lee said. “We can do either.”
“I thought finding her was a great idea,” Mathan admitted. “At first.” He shook his head.
“Now I don’t know how I feel.”
Sheridan wondered briefly, as he shook his head, why knocks at the door always shocked him. This was the second one tonight, and as he tried to come back to life and looked at Logan, asleep beside him, he thought this was so much worse than if he got caught having sex. Sex could be written off. Sex happened all the time, and it didn’t necessarily have to mean half of what people thought it did. This falling asleep together was intimacy.
Again, the knock at the door.
“What’s that?” Logan began, running his hands over his face.
“Just look natural.” Sheridan got up and went to the door, ready for Chay. But he was surprised.
“Meredith?”
She stood there, her hair down her back, looking like the painting of Ophelia Claire Lawden kept on her wall.
“Sher—” she began, and then looked behind him to see Logan.
“Uh…”
“Just come in,” Sheridan said.
“I need to talk to you,” Meredith told him, readjusting her purse and closing the door behind her.
“We both need to talk,” Sheridan said.
“Yes,” Meredith looked at Logan, but did not ask for an explanation. “I’m starting to see that.”
