Man on the Inside

31

Neil feels a weird sense of deja vu, sitting in front of Debbie's house. Last time he was here, it was only- what, three weeks ago?- and he'd been sitting with a fraction of this apprehension, texting Nimm desperately for help. Now Art's sitting right beside him, in person, undisguised, and he looks almost as nervous as Neil does.

"Do you think she'll be angry?" Neil asks, tapping the steering wheel anxiously. It's a big change from what the last week has been. After Art shot his mother, there was a lot of work to do, and Art spent the weekend doing it, with what help Neil could give from home with his kids. He explained very little to them, far less than he normally would. He wouldn't elaborate on why his car was in the shop, or where Ricky's new phone had come from, aside from a friend of mine bought it and no longer has a use for it. They'd been able to confirm that the tracking was in the SIM card, and so when Art had thrown that on the ground and crushed it under his heel, they knew the phone itself was safe. Neil had felt strange, watching the last remnant of Nimm disappear into the dust.

"You know her- better than I do," Art says with a blinking tic. "It's funny. I'm more nervous for this than I was for everything else we just did. Conferring with my entire criminal network to establish what hers is doing, setting these safety nets in place, contacting my brothers and risking everything to see if they'll want to help me destroy our mother from the inside- that's all fucking fine and dandy in comparison to being introduced to your family."

Neil laughs a little. "We can wait, if you want. By all accounts, we've not exactly been dating long."

Art's staring out the window. "We're different, though, aren't we?"

Neil looks at the house he lived in for fifteen years, and then the man he's been dating for- officially, days. He's only known that he's known him for weeks, and they first met only months ago. It's strange which one feels more like home, and even stranger that that feeling is reciprocated.

"Yeah," he admits with a sigh. "I promise you'll do fine, okay? There's nothing you could possibly do that would make them hate you. It's not even anything formal, I just asked if I could stop by while everyone was home, so- we can leave the moment you're uncomfortable."

Art holds the bouquet towards him. He was holding it while Neil was driving; Neil had tossed up about it, but he ultimately felt like the white tulips and the violets that were supposed to mean I'm sorry might add sincerity to that message. "You're going to go in first, right?"

"I've got to say the gay part first," Neil says. He's starting to feel more comfortable with that word in his mouth, now, because he's starting to realise, not just on the level of what's true, but what he can feel to his bones, that anyone who has a problem with it can get fucked. "So yeah. I don't know, we'll wing it."

"I don't really want to wing it. Fuck."

Neil leans over to him as he takes the flowers from Art's hand. "All you have to do is be nice when I introduce you. I promise."

He kisses him for reassurance, and Neil takes that same kiss for luck as he steps out of the car.

It's just past the time when the kids would be home from school, and with the weather just right as the sun is falling, the front door's been left open, the screen door unlocked. Neil knocks on the wood anyway as he's coming in, just to announce himself. He's hearing the giggling voices of teenagers already. "Hello?"

"Dad?" Charlie calls down the hallway, sticking her head out of her bedroom. "Why are you here?"

"Did Mum not tell you I was coming?"

She stares at the flowers in his hand for a moment, raises an eyebrow, and then turns her head the other way down the hallway. "Ricky! Did Mum tell you Dad was coming?"