a week later, with his gallery exhibit starting in twenty minutes, daniel turned away from the door in his office and sat on the edge of his desk, listening to his mother blubber about a recent breakup. daniel cradled the phone in one hand and plucked dead blooms from his potted plant with the other.
when there was a pause, daniel said, "i thought you were seeing someone named james."
daniel's mom sniffed. "oh no. james was weeks ago. i thought things with richard were going so well."
they always did, until a few weeks passed and kery fell head over heels. surprise, surprise, it ended shortly after that. daniel had had this conversation so many times, but it still pained him that his mom was hurting. "i'm sorry."
"me, too." she blew her nose. loudly. "enough about me. how are you? are you seeing anyone? why are you calling me on a friday night?"
kery liked corbyn, but the two of them were a temporary thing, so no sense in telling her because it would only get her hopes up. they agreed to a month, and only one more week was left of their time. daniel stomach churned. he ignored it. "just checking in. i have a showing starting in a few minutes. but, since we're on the phone, i need to ask you something."
weariness weighed on his shoulders. between corbyn exhausting his after work and a sudden rash of new nightmares, sleep was not a commodity. ever since corbyn'd brought up his childhood, daniel started remembering little tidbits. google searches only brought up things he knew.
"anything, honey."
he rubbed his forehead. "where was i found after the souls of christ raid? i keep having strange flashes and can't piece it together."
daniel's mother was silent, which should've warned him something ugly was coming. kery made talk show hosts look like mutes. "honey, i..." she sighed. "when the shooting started, you and some of the other kids were locked inside one of the bunkers. some of the leaders were there hiding out, along with your parents, planning an escape. the atf kicked down the door and shots were fired from souls leaders. the authorities responded. you..."
daniel fingernails dug into his palms. "what, mom?"
daniel sniffed. "your father pushed you to the ground and told you to crawl under the bed. he died right next to you. the agents didn't know you were there until a little while later. you hadn't moved. they thought you were dead, but it was just shock."
just shock. as in daniel limbs freezing and inability to breathe. his first panic attack had come before he'd moved here.
making excuses, he hung up and stared out the window, trembling from hairline to toenails. all these years he'd thought he was a freak. turned out, he was traumatized. the claustrophobia, the panic during sex while horizontal, made sense. corbyn was right. he could handle any position but missionary. and daniel couldn't even remember the incident, yet it had forged a dark path for him all these years.
feet shuffled behind him. corbyn. daniel'd grown accustomed to his sounds, his scent, and his touch in their few weeks together. daniel could make him out from a thousand others while blindfolded. he wanted to go home, where he could bury himself deep inside his willing body and push this new knowledge from his mind. with corbyn, daniel forgot to be afraid.
His green gaze scanned the gallery below before he cupped daniel's cheek. "what is it? you're pale, baby."
daniel couldn't do this now. he had a showing. forcing a smile, he met corbyn's worried gaze. "nothing. my mother. we just hung up."
