I'm getting yelled at in the comments of recent installments (not here, obviously. No one reads this) and rightfully so. I apologize to women. I apologize to people with mental health issues, myself included. I apologize to happy throuples and the polyamorous community. I apologize to therapists, mine included. I apologize to the people who wanted to read a little gay porn for a nice fun time and got trapped in a psychodrama.
For this story to work, Todd has to learn and grow. Most folks I know, and Jesse especially, are slow to notice real change in the people around them, especially if their first impression is bad. Since we never leave Jesse's POV, I've been trying to figure out (for years; I cringe to see the publication date for the first Power Plays post) how to make change clear to the reader even if Jesse's can't see it.
In a story where no one is completely honest with themselves, Todd starts out close to Jesse—who does not allow himself much introspection—and lands closer to Chrisette by the end of chapter 6. By chapter 9 Todd will have the self-awareness on par with Sasha. She's my favorite, if it isn't clear from the way I treat her character.
March
Sasha spots Chrissy before I do and waves her to our table.
“How’s our girl?” she asks as Chrissy sits. I signal our server.
“Ya girl is so fucking pregnant.”
We make sympathetic noises. Chrissy looks healthier than ever, if anything, but I don’t know how pregnancy works. She makes it sound miserable.
“Do you know what you’re having yet?”
Chrisette grins. “Guess.”
“Girl,” I say. Sasha guesses the same.
“With all the girls in my family you’d think so, but nope. We’re gonna have a little boy running around.”
“A mini Jesse.”
Sasha and Chrissy both laugh like I’m being mean, but I didn’t intend it any particular way. He’ll probably be a decent dad, actually. He seems to be most comfortable when he’s needed. Chrisette…I can’t really picture her that way. She always bragged about how she could avoid being stuck with her nieces and nephews at family events.
August
Come see me, the message reads. Then a photo of a wrinkled little baby pops up.
“She had the baby!” Sasha calls as she enters the room.
I hold my phone up. “She texted me, too.”
October
“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a mom,” Chrisette says as she walks into my apartment. Motherhood looks good on her, though. Her hair is even thicker and glossier, her breasts are full, and the extra weight from pregnancy settled into her hips. She seems pretty upset, though, so I try to stop sexualizing my friend.
I gesture her over to the island. “Can you have wine?”
“God, yes.” She puts her head on the quartz for a moment. “I swear to God, it’s a miracle I haven’t set every single person on fire.”
“That bad, huh?”
Chrissy fixes me with a stare. “I had an active daydream of walking over a bridge with that baby and throwing us both in the river. I am not okay.”
I try not to react physically, but it feels like ice is running down my spine. She's been “joking” about walking into traffic too much lately. “Yeah, that sounds pretty scary. Does Jesse know?”
She waves one hand dismissively and grabs the wineglass from me with the other. “Ugh. He’s always like, ‘Oh, did you tell Dr. Gupta? Do we need to switch medications?’”
I make some neutral noise—I’m not sure I understand her problem with that. She’d been pretty happy with him when he was doing the same exact thing during the pregnancy.
“It’s like, I don’t need a pill, I need to feel like a person. Like a woman.”
“Maybe both?” I suggest lightly.
Suddenly her expression changes. I’ve seen it before; it shows up right before she declares she’s gonna fuck some guy. “You could help.”
In all the time I thought we’d be good together, this is not how I imagined it would happen.
November
Sasha folds her arms; I can tell that she’s choosing her words carefully. “I figured you'd cheat at some point, but I just didn’t think it would be Chrisette.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because she just had a child, you moron, and that does crazy things to a woman’s hormones. You of all people—”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Sasha holds up her hands. “You know what growing up without a stable home can do. Are you going to take responsibility for the fallout? Jesse isn’t the type to let another man raise his child.”
“I know.” According to Chrissy, Jesse was excited about the baby to the point of being infuriating. She says it’s because he refuses to acknowledge that parenting sucks.
“Do you know? Or are you just using her breakdown as an opportunity to sort out this weird thing you have for her husband?”
And here I thought it wasn’t noticeable. “Do what now?”
Sasha’s foot begins to tap irritably. “Don’t play dumb, Todd. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Ugh, fine,” I groan, rubbing at the headache forming between my eyes. “But the answer is no. There may be a thing, but it’s not how you think.”
Sasha rolls her big green eyes. “Okay. Well, we’ve reached the point at which I can no longer trust the words out of your mouth, so I’m going to go.”
“Sasha, I’m not lying to you.”
“What do you think I think this ‘thing’ is?”
“I don’t—”
Sasha cuts me off. “Never mind; you’re going to be wrong. I think you don’t like Jesse because you haven’t figured out if you want to be with Chrisette, or him.”
“Be him or be with him?” I repeat, wanting to make sure Sasha hears how ridiculous that sounds.
She gestures knowingly. “I didn't quite put it that way,” she says slowly. “But it makes sense, now that I think about it.”
“You've lost me.” I don't want to hear what she thinks she knows, yet I'm rooted to the spot.
With a frustrated sigh Sasha explains, using a tone that says she thinks I already know what she's about to say. “I know you and Chrisette have had a non-thing since you met. She flat out told me that Jesse was a placeholder until you,” she points an accusatory finger at my face, “figured out that you guys were supposed to be together. But Jesse didn't know that, so he treated Chrisette like she hung the fucking moon and stars. She, like any intelligent woman, preferred that to being strung along. Is that why you started messing with him?”
I spread my arms and ask, “How do I ‘mess’ with Jesse?” Mostly because I want to know how unsubtle I've become.
Sasha doesn't fall for it. “He's not a total prick until you're around.”
“He needs to grow up. Not my problem.”
“Except his instincts are spot on, because you slept with his wife.”
I shrug. Touché. But I also slept with him, and he liked it. I didn't hate it. He’s surprisingly good in the sack. And fascinating like a puzzle box—every time I had to decipher anew what trick would get him to bend over for me.
“Sasha, I’m sorry,” I try, but she starts laughing bitterly.
“Oh, my god. You’re not, though. You’re sorry I found out, and you’re sorry that I’m not so stupid that I stay with you.”
April
“Hey,” I say to Chrissy as we lie in bed, “I think we need to be nicer to Jesse.”
She lifts her head from my chest, eyes crinkling in mirth. “What are you even talking about?”
“Seriously.” I stuff an extra pillow behind my head so I can look at her better. “Last night he was having a full panic attack when I got home.”
“Ugh,” Chrissy groans. She rolls onto her back, stretching so her lovely breasts are kissed by the sunlight. “Not our fault if he never leaves this house. I’ve told him a million times that we can hire a nanny.”
“That’s upper middle class shit,” I tease, poking her. “Us working class boys don’t think money should be used like that.”
“Mmph.”
“Seriously, thought. Push him away and eventually he’ll go.”
“Go where? I’d love to see the bitch he thinks is better.”
“Jesus.”
“What?”
“Why not let him leave? Do you want him, or do you want no one else to have him? I’m not sure you even like him, most days.”
“Mean! I may not want to fuck him right now, but I still love him. Just because it looks different—”
“Not to defend him, specifically, but if a person doesn’t read what you’re doing as love, then you might want to check and see what would be more obvious.” I’m not sure if I'm talking to her or myself.
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