Gabriel

No matter how much I complained about my orthodox parents, I loved them and I enjoyed spending time with them. Even though I didn't go to rabbinical school, they still contributed to my college education. My mother was a pediatric nurse and worked extra shifts just so I'd have the things I wanted growing up. If Juniper was a girl and Jewish, they would have loved him. He could--or would--never become either of those things.

Before I left his cabin, Juniper gave me two dozen eggs--one dozen for me to keep and another to give to my parents. He usually charged three dollars a dozen, but he refused to charge me.

I hadn't visited my parents since Passover when I was still in the midst of Cole drama. I could always hide my own drama from them. If they knew half the things I did, my mother would have had a heart attack. No kidding.

After my twelve hour shift in the hospital, I headed to Brooklyn and drove seven and a half hours, arriving at my parents' house, my childhood home, at three in the morning. By driving in the middle of the night, I avoided all the traffic. I didn't even bother to try to find a parking spot on the street. It was worse than finding off street parking in Boston. I parked in a garage several blocks away. Maybe it was more than several blocks because it took me twenty minutes to get to the house. The house was dark, but my parents' light flickered on as I made my way up the narrow stairs to my former bedroom.

Just as I was about to open my door, my parents' door crept open. In her bathrobe, and bleary-eyed with her strawberry blond hair in disarray, my mother stepped out of her room. In public, my mother never exposed her hair, always wearing a head covering. She preferred vibrant colors like purple and scarlet. While my hair was dark like my father's, my eyes were as green as my mother's.

"Hi, Mom," I said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She stared at me as though she didn't recognize me. I hadn't changed that much since April. Maybe I needed a shave and perhaps I lost a few pounds, but I still looked like myself. My eyes usually gave me away.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Mom, it's me," I said, offended she didn't recognize me. "You call me five times a day."

"Oh, hi Gabriel!" Finally, she sounded like my mother. "Come here and give your mother a hug." She gave me a big hug and a kiss when I just wanted to go to bed. "You've gotten so skinny. Don't you eat?"

"Yes, I eat. We'll talk in the morning. I need to get some sleep."

"Gabriel, is that you?" my dad shouted from inside the bedroom. Within seconds, he appeared next to my mother. I noticed he didn't have as much hair as he used to. He always said he was glad he wore a yarmulke to hide his balding head. I still had a head of thick dark hair, and I hoped it stayed that way. My dad didn't start losing his hair until his fifties, so I had a few years left. Hopefully, by then, I'd have a partner who wouldn't care if I lost my hair.

My dad was eight years older than my mother. They started dating when she was a sophomore in college when he was a young, new rabbi. He married her two months after she finished nursing school. I was born a year later. Their age difference was almost the same as me and Juniper's.

"You've gotten so skinny," my dad reiterated my mother's comments. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

"Dad, I really just want to get some sleep. I just drove almost eight hours to get here."

"You can sleep after you get something to eat. Let's go." He tugged at the sleeve of my hoodie, encouraging me to go with him. "Go to sleep, Ada. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Don't tell me what to do," she said, following us down the stairs. She was feistier than usual. I bet it had something to do with me showing up at three in the morning. She'd hoped I'd be there by eight, even though I told her I worked until seven. Unless there was such a thing as teleportation, there was no way in hell I'd make it to Brooklyn from Bangor in an hour.

"I picked you up a pastrami on rye from the deli you like," my dad said, opening the refrigerator. "Sit down."

I was hungry, but I would have preferred to sleep than eat a pastrami on rye sandwich at three in the morning. I wasn't even drunk. "Thanks, Dad," I said as he placed the sandwich in front of me. "I'll eat half and save the rest." My mother poured me a glass of milk. I hadn't drunk milk since I was in middle school. Because I didn't want her to snap at me, I accepted the glass.

For as long as I could remember, my mother had erratic moods, and they'd change within the hour. I was impulsive and prone to depressive episodes, but I wouldn't call my moods erratic, not like hers. She must have been having one of her bad mood days, and even my presence made no difference.

"It's so good to have you home," my mother said, kissing the top of my head. "How's work?"

"He's an ER physician in a trauma center. How could you ask such a question?" my dad said.

"And I'm a nurse in a rehab hospital for children and you always ask me that question."

"Work is fine," I stated. "It's not as busy as Boston, but I think I prefer it. How's work with you guys?"

"You know how it is. I'm considering retiring," my dad said.

"You always say that," my mother said.

"Maybe in a few years," my dad said. "You look happier. Maybe Maine has been a good move for you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. So far, neither parent made me feel guilty or begged me to come back home. It sounded like my dad almost accepted my move as a good thing since he called it a 'good move.'

At this time of night, I'd rather be in bed than talk about Maine or work. I finished off half the sandwich and begged my parents to let me go to sleep. I had to be up in a few hours for morning service. They reluctantly understood my need for sleep.

Everything in my room was just the way I left it. Nothing had changed since I permanently left home when I was twenty-two. My National Honor Society and other academic certificates still hung on the wall. My valedictorian medal sat on my bureau between my MVP awards in soccer and jazz band. I played trumpet and earned an MVP award when the jazz band placed second in the state competition. I also sang Nina Simone's Feeling Good because no one else volunteered to sing.

After waking my mother up, she didn't go back to sleep. Instead, she decided to cook and bake all the things that I loved. The aroma in the house was intoxicating with the scents of homemade challah and honey cake. When my mother wasn't looking, I stole a couple of dates, even before services. I looked forward to the apples dipped in honey. My mother always had enough food to feed the entire community.

As the rabbi's wife and son, my mother and I spent the entire morning at the synagogue, attending all the morning services.

Waiting for evening festivities was always the most challenging, but not as challenging as fasting during Yom Kippur. The bottles of wine just stared at me, longing for me to open them, but I couldn't open a bottle until the recitation of kiddush tonight.

The High Holidays were my favorite time of year, particularly Rosh Hashanah. There was no pressure for me to explain myself, meaning I didn't have to explain why I was still single. The two days of Rosh Hashanah were days of celebration and reflection.

I bet my parents planned on interrogating me on Thanksgiving. I always worked Christmas in exchange for Thanksgiving off. I didn't celebrate New Year's Day, either, so I didn't mind working New Year's Eve and New Year's Day.

Growing up, the house would be full of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents when they were alive. The gathering had dwindled over the years, now only consisting of my maternal aunt who lost her husband two years ago of pancreatic cancer, and a great paternal aunt who never married. My grandparents on both sides died when I was a kid. Another uncle, my mother's older brother, died three years ago when he was fifty-two years old. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease when he was only forty years old. It wasn't entirely unusual for someone to be diagnosed that young. Take Michael J. Fox, for example. He was diagnosed at twenty-nine. Anyway, my mother always struggled with accepting his death. My other uncle, her older brother, lived in Israel with his wife and five kids. She had a hard time accepting his move, too.

My mother seemed different to me. She tripped over her feet twice. All the floors were hardwood with no scatter rugs. Once she caught herself; the second time, she fell flat on her face and gave herself a black eye. She laughed about it, stating "I'm so clumsy," but she'd never been this clumsy before. At times she was distant as if her mind was somewhere else. Her affect was flat, and she repeated herself more than ever. She must have asked me how work was a hundred times. When I confronted my dad, he assured me that everything was 'fine.'

"Don't worry," he said. "She's doing okay."

"I don't think she's okay. There's something you're not telling me."

"Just go back to your quiet life in Maine and let me take care of things here. Anyway, you know how your mother is. Up one day and down the next."

If I was a psychiatrist and had to diagnose my mother, I'd say she had bipolar disorder, but she wasn't one to go to the doctors or take medication. I suspected my dad wasn't telling me something because he didn't want me to worry. At the same time, his comment about my quiet life in Maine was a dig, an intent to make me feel guilty, and I thought I was in the clear. Although I planned on returning in ten days for Yom Kippur, I promised I'd make a better effort to visit more often. There was something going on, and I planned on finding out what it was.

I didn't want to wait until after Yom Kippur to see Juniper. On the drive back to Bangor, I decided I'd make time for him. There was more to life than work. Until recently, I used to make time to swipe right or left. I didn't miss those times.

Two days after I returned to Bangor, Juniper and I got together. We considered going to the movies, but Juniper preferred more interactive dates because he was so talkative. I bet he was one of those teachers who talked incessantly and easily drifted off topic. I always loved teachers like that because students usually got away with everything.

Instead of going to the movies, we watched a movie at my place, sharing a pizza and a bottle of red wine. Pinot Noir was his favorite. He wanted to watch Deliverance or Wrong Turn., two movies I mentioned when I was shitfaced. I watched Deliverance once and refused to watch it again after it gave me nightmares. Wrong Turn was based on a graphic novel and way too over-the-top and stupid to be real. It was just another slasher flick where the killers were deranged, inbred cannibals.

Juniper removed his shoes and socks and curled up beside me on the couch. He laughed a lot during the movie, but also startled and bit his fingernails at the gory parts. When he was stressed, he made jokes. "My cabin is much cleaner than that," he said, referring to the cabin in the movie.

"I don't know about that. It gets pretty scary in there sometimes."

"Yeah, you're right. I store brains and fingers in the fridge."

Just as the credits rolled, he pounced on his knees beside me and placed a hand on the back of my neck. He kissed me once on my mouth. "I've wanted to kiss you all evening, but we can't just fuck all the time, can we?"

"Maybe we can," I said, standing up. "Come with me."

Juniper was easy to please, which made being with him all the more enjoyable. He preferred to keep the lights on so he could watch me and 'learn,' he said. He didn't need much teaching, though. He figured this out on his own. He bent his legs all the way back, his feet almost touching the headboard--which always impressed me. He reached behind him and gripped the headboard as I entered him. "Oh, my God. That's so good," he said, bursting into laughter. I didn't know what was so funny, but he urged me to continue. "I'm sorry. I'm gonna fucking come. Oh, shit."

Laughing was his coping mechanism. He was embarrassed of his premature ejaculation so he laughed to cope with his own humiliation. "It's okay," I assured him. "I'm flattered. In the future, we'll save this position for last." He continued to grip the headboard as I held his ankles together, thrusting hard. I kissed his mouth, muffling our sounds as I climaxed. 

"Stay the night," I said in between kisses. We both had to go to work in the morning, but I still hoped he'd say yes. He didn't seem to have a hard time getting up early.

"It's a good thing I packed a toothbrush and a change of clothes, huh?"

Juniper lay beside me, propped on his elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," he said, drawing invisible figure eights on my chest.

"Like what?"

"I dunno. It seems like you know an awful lot about me, and I don't know much about you."

"Okay. Well, I'm an only child. My father is a rabbi..."

"I know all that. Tell me something different."

"Wait, I'm not done. Will you let me finish?" I teased him. "You like to run your mouth. Quiet for a second... maybe more than a second. I got my bachelor's of science degree in biology from University of Pennsylvania. I liked it so much, I stayed on and got my medical degree there."

"I already know that, too."

"Quiet," I said, covering his mouth with my hand. "I did my first residency in Philadelphia, which I know I didn't tell you. I guess I was homesick because I returned to New York and did my three year residency program for emergency medicine at Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn. I have a long history of making bad decisions and dating the wrong men."

"What do you mean 'the wrong men?' How do you know the wrong man from the right man?"

"I'm desperate to be liked... to be loved. Because of that, guys have no problem taking advantage. I'd meet these guys online and I'd fall instantly in love with them and they knew that. I'm surprised I haven't declared bankruptcy yet. I'm doing much better since moving to Maine, but it was tough for awhile."

I just shared way too much information.

And it felt good... therapeutic.

"You're different. You've never asked me for anything. You bought me dinner for my birthday. Nobody's ever bought me dinner. You're just... I don't know, Juniper. I need to know what's wrong with you. Are you married?"

"No," he scoffed.

"And you don't appear to be an addict, but I went out with one and it took awhile for me to realize he had a problem. Do you have any sexually transmitted infections? I had a couple of scares in my early twenties."

"I have no infections or diseases."

"See? You're perfect."

"Lack of STIs hardly makes me perfect. Nobody's perfect, Gabriel. For one, I talk too much. I know that's a problem. And second, I'm a slob. I only cleaned up because I knew you were coming over. And third, well, I have a huge pumpkin problem."

"What are you talking about?" I laughed.

"I have a pumpkin problem. I love everything pumpkin... pumpkin seeds, pumpkin muffins and donuts, pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie... I make really good pumpkin bisque."

"That's not an imperfection. That's an obsession."

"Which is an imperfection. I always want everyone to be happy, sometimes at the expense of my own happiness. We all have our own shit, don't we?"

"Yeah, I guess. My last boyfriend nearly ruined my life and career." I sat upright, ready to disclose my drama. "I'd only been talking to Cole for a few months before I moved in with him. I moved to a city where I'd only visited once in my life. It was fucking crazy and impulsive. And the other guys I've dated... I must have a thing for bad boys. I'm used to toxic relationships. I'm just waiting for you to tell me you're poly or something and destroy all hope."

"What's poly?"

Was he for real? I kept forgetting Juniper practically lived under a rock, living a sheltered life.

"Polyamorous or polyamory," I stated.

"What's that?"

"Polyamory is a non-monogamous relationship where people mutually agree to have multiple sexual or romantic relationships. It's basically an open relationship."

"Oh... I think I'd get too tired having more than one partner."

"Yeah, I know, right? I'd been going out with this guy for three months when he said he wanted to be poly. Not only that, he'd been poly all along and thought I'd be into it. What the fuck? And now you're here with me and it makes no sense. I don't know how to be in a non toxic relationship. I'm not saying we're in a relationship, so don't freak out or anything. It just feels weird."

"Hmm... I don't know how to be in any relationships because I've never been in one. You think too much. I don't know if I could be in love with more than one person at the same time. I think I'd be jealous."

"That's one thing we agree on."

"I'm sure we agree on other things," he said, rolling on top of me.

I dug my fingers into his lower back as he ground against me. I enjoyed bottoming and hoped he'd top me, something he had yet to try. Still ashamed from earlier, he declined my invitation. It didn't matter how much I reassured him, insisting I'd enjoy it no matter what.  Before I knew it, he was riding me, gazing into my eyes as he bounced slowly up and down. After a few more nights together, I was sure Juniper would gain more than enough confidence to fuck me as his life depended on it. 

A/N Again, I apologize for any typos or inconsistencies. I just have to keep going if I want to make 50,000 words be November 30th. I'm almost at the halfway mark.