taking a long drink.
“Personal experience?” Ted asked, and Fredric felt a sort of white-hot desire to unburden himself, even if this man didn’t deserve the chaos that had been his life.
“My son ran away,” he said. “He escaped all the bullshit the family put him through. He met a man, fell in love, got swept off his feet, and taken straight to Paris.”
“Literally?”
Fredric smiled again. “Literally. I don’t know if they’ll ever get married, but I don’t think they’ll ever really spend more than a day apart if they can help it. For him, the bullshit wasn’t worth anything it had accomplished.”
“That’s fair,” Ted said with a small sigh. “My family can be…performative. A big show of support, but I know what they say behind my back. My mom’s had more than her share of breakdowns about how she just wants me to be happy—and she thinks that not being trans would be easier. I stopped trying to make her get it, because she just doesn’t have the ability. I love her, but…”
Fredric nodded. “I know what you mean.” He wondered for a moment what it might have been like for him, if he’d had the opportunity to come out. His parents had never commented either way, but he had also gotten a girl pregnant at seventeen. They died long before he had the chance to live as himself, and he would probably always wonder if that was a blessing or not.
A moment later, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard Agatha make her way out, followed by the scent of food. She set down two heavy dishes, and Fredric straightened up a little, though he didn’t set his beer down.
“Can I serve?” Agatha said. “The dishes are really hot.”
Fredric bristled a little, but conceding a little pride to escape a blister was worth it. He waved his hand, and he heard her add something to his plate. “Smells wonderful.”
“I threw meat and vegetables together in a pan,” she said, her chair creaking as she sat. “And I cooked some rice. It’s nothing fancy, but it tastes good to me.”
Fredric’s fingers danced along the edge of his plate until he found his fork. “Anything I should know?”
“Rough chopped peppers and some chicken to the left,” Agatha said. “Rice on the right. I put some lemon and garlic butter on it.”
Fredric had spent years mastering his plate, subtly feeling around in a delicate, careful way so he wouldn’t embarrass his wife. And he began to move his fork around to feel the edge of his food before he realized what he was doing, and he stopped. He waited a beat, waited to see if they’d say anything, if he would notice the subtle shifts of someone embarrassed.
But none came.
And maybe it was because they were strangers, but likely they just didn’t care.
He found the edge of the chicken with his finger, then picked up his fork and dug in. Agatha wasn’t wrong—it was good. It was rich and filling—something like home, or at least, the flavor of what Fredric imagined home-cooked to be. Because he’d never had that, and with each mouthful, he felt oddly cheated out of a real experience.
“So,” Agatha said after a beat, “did I interrupt a heavy conversation?”
“Fredric was talking about his son and his son’s boyfriend,” Ted offered, and Fredric smiled around his bite. “They ran away from home.”
Fredric laughed and shook his head. “His boyfriend works as an astrophysicist in Paris. They live in a small flat, and they don’t get back here to visit very often.” He stopped and tipped his head toward his plate. “I miss him.”
“Because you’re lonely?” Agatha asked, and Fredric heard her boyfriend mutter something, but she didn’t take it back or apologize, and he loved that about her.
“I think I am,” he admitted. He grabbed his beer and took another long drink, setting his fork down. The anxiety of this dinner—of bearing even pieces of his soul to strangers—was killing his appetite, but he also didn’t want this moment to end. The experience was rich and important. “I think I was more afraid of the idea than actually feeling lonely. My son thinks I should start dating. My daughter thinks I should become a monk.”
The pair laughed, and he got a whiff of subtle perfume as Agatha leaned a little closer to him. “You’re really good looking, Fredric, you could totally date.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ted offered.
Fredric felt his cheeks heat. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. I think