If Bryan had rung the first time he spent the weekend away, this would be a shrug. But the first week end he had taken his ‘visiting bag’ and left. He hadn’t called to say he wouldn’t be back until Sunday. That was because then he considered himself no more than a tenant or room mate who didn’t have to ‘report’ to me.
I looked back at that first weekend, realising he hadn’t come to live with me as a companion, he was living in my house, because why not? We were friendly co-workers. I was old enough to be his mother, he was gay, and so all the complications were removed.
For him to ‘report’ to me that Friday evening meant there was a complication. He felt it as much as I did.
He had blurted out his deeper feelings as we had driven home last week. Now he would have to re-examine our ‘relationship’.