The Muse's Undoing

I rub the back of my neck and lean heavily on my cane. “I mean, we’re not technically brothers,” I say.

Maggie gives me a look of disappointment. “We used to have a joke between us, that you never miss a chance to mention you were adopted. Still at it, huh?”

Matthew claps a firm hand down on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “He’s just reminding you that we’re not related.”

She stares directly at him. “Except you are.”

It was one thing—this theoretical conversation where Matthew was going to tell her about him and me, but being here to witness it—I could die of humiliation. I have never not wanted to be somewhere this badly.

Matthew takes a deep breath and lets my shoulder loose from his death grip. “Try not to make this weird, but Fischer and I—we’re—seeing each other.” He says the last three words painfully slow.

Maggie swivels her head back to me once more, her arms uncrossing until her fists are planted on her hips. “That’s not funny, Matty.”

“It’s not a joke. Either.”

She turns to glare hard at me. “What’s going on?”

“I um…” Jesus, I shouldn’t have to be here for this. “He’s not joking. Matthew and I…”

“He said you weren’t gay!” she shouts at me.

“I’m bi.”

“Since when?”

“There’s not a good answer for that,” I manage to say.

“It’s a long story, Mags. We’re not gonna get into it all right now. He’s about to burst into flames from embarrassment.”

“Well, yeah, because what the fuck!? And since when do you date men?” This time she directs the question at Matthew. “Mom is gonna fucking die.”

I clear my throat and walk away from the conversation. I might lock myself in the bathroom, or I might put on my shoes and go for a walk.

“He’s thirteen years older than us!”

“Yes. I know. What is your problem?”

“He has a little boy.”

“I’m aware of that, Maggie, and?—”

“Why are you doing this?” she bursts. “Your life’s not a big enough mess?”

“Ouch,” he replies loudly.

“I’m just saying—why the fuck can you not control yourself? He’s our brother. What is wrong with you?”

“Stop it,” Matthew snaps. “Look, I’m sorry you had to find out like this, which is why I wanted to talk to you in private, and why you should let someone know before you show up at their place at eight in the morning.”

“You think talking to me in private would have made this okay? That anything could?”

“Yes. Because in private I could have told you that I’m with the person who is it for me. And I don’t date men because no one else is him.”

“What?” she asks softly, the word shaky like she might be about to cry.

I give up and sit down on the bed, elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

“How long has this been going on?” she asks, the words dark and loaded.