12
AARON
Ezra’s fiftieth birthday hovered on the horizon, and I wracked my brain to find ways to make it special. I dreamed about taking him out for a nice dinner, to a club to where no one knew us and we could dance until hot and sweaty. A place where no one would give us the side-eye of hypocritical judgement he’d gotten at church all because I’d touched his pinkie, his elbow, then leaned in to tell him I would wait in the car.
Such utter bullshit.
It’d gotten to the point in my head that I didn’t want to attend Dad’s old church anymore. I’d been going for the freedom from my responsibilities with him, and had it not been for Ezra sitting beside me in service, the chance to have his body even the slightest bit against mine, I would have ended up in a coffee shop instead.
Long discus
