“Don’t change the subject. I called you like…” She pauses and I can just see her looking at her watch. “Six hours ago.”
“It’s been a day. And night. We had three domestic disputes, one of the women coded in the bus and Salem had to resuscitate her. It was touch and go.” My story has the intended effect. Mac’s tone drops a few octaves and now she sounds normal.
“Aww, I’m sorry, Spency.” Ugh, just no. “You wanna come over? I’m alone with Gryffin because the guys have a church meeting.
I chuckle. I don’t know why it’s called church. Those guys would probably burst into flames if they ever did walk into one.
“Sure. I need me some Gryffin love.” The thought brings me joy.
“No can do, Uncle Spence. It’s way past his bedtime. but we were having too much fun in the bath.” This time I laugh outright just as I close my car door and turn the engine. She’s the worst rule-follower ever. When Gryffin was born, she’d read every expecting mother book out there and she was planning her baby’s life to the second. I bought her a pretty notebook where she kept tabs on everything. His sleep schedule, his eating schedule, his poop schedule for Christ’s sake.
Now, she’s all…bath time was too much fun. Such a Mac move.
“I’m not coming if I can’t see Gryff.”
“Spencer Holt, are you emotionally blackmailing me?”
“Yes.” She’ll cave. She always does.
“Fine, but only a kiss. It’s late.” My best friend is just too easy to manipulate with promises of love and hugs.
“Deal. Get the wine out. I’m in need of alcohol.”
It takes me twenty minutes, but I’m at her and Psycho’s home before Gryffin is asleep.
On the down side, I only get five lines read before the kid’s conked out.
“Damn, he’s like a switch. I wish I could fall asleep like that.” When I walked in, I was too concerned with getting some baby love that I washed my hands then walked straight to the back room.
Kissing Mac on the cheek, I take the wine she hands me and we both plop down onto the couch, the television running on mute whileSchitt’s Creekplays in the background.
Best. Show. Ever.
“I’m just going to say this, then we’ll move on.” Oh, fuck my life. Why do I feel like this is an intervention? Or worse, an ambush.
“If this is about what I think this is, save it. I’m not talking it out, Mac. It’s done.” Mac frowns, then takes a long…too long, sip of her wine before she places it back on the table.
The problem is that I know Mac, sometimes better than she knows herself. Everything she’s doing screams bad news, her brain working overtime to figure out how to tell me something.
“All I’m saying and then we’ll lay it to rest, is that… so what if he got a blowjob? Like four days ago he was doing a literal…” she leans in, whispering like Gryffin is going to suddenly choose this moment to wake up and start repeating cuss words. “Fuck train.”
“Cum. He called it a cum train.” Gross, I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth.
“I don’t know what’s more disturbing. The name or the fact that you just corrected me.”
Our eyes meet, and in a classic Spence and Mac move, we answer my question in unison.
“Both.”
“But seriously, it’s never bothered you before.” We’re both sitting on the couch, facing each other, the conversation about to take a serious turn.
“Well,”—it’s my turn to sip on the wine—“Parker’s different. I think they’re pretty perfect together and I don’t want to be the third, gay, wheel. Like, you know, when he needs a dick or something.” I know I’m being crass but I want to be in a relationship, not just the on-call cock to balance out his needs.
“Yeah, I get it but…he was bummed after you left.” Mac starts playing with a loose strand from the blanket that’s nicely draped over the light-brown couch. “What if…and hear me out—”
“No.”
“I said hear me out.” She’s whisper-yelling and I’m tempted to just get up and walk out because I know that whatever she’s about to say is going to suck.