John and Mace: Final

I awoke from a nap on John's shoulder. It was time for me to get dressed, get my bags from my hotel, and head to the airport. John offered to drive me. He held my hand as we drove. It was familiar and intimate and painful.

He stopped in front of the terminal, but he didn't let go of my hand. I pulled his hand to my mouth and kissed the back of it, right where the hair swirled. It was an old move.

Smiling, he asked, "Carrot, do you ever wonder how our lives would have turned out if we had just kept going?"

"No," I said, perhaps too candidly. "I'm living that life, just not with you."

"Touche, Carrot," he said. "Touche."

*****

I had always wondered what I would do if John emerged from the shadows and offered me what Juan had offered me. The trip to Denver resolved my wonder. I'd choose Juan, happily and without regret.

Still, John held sway over me. He was like a latent illness, always lurking and threatening to flare up.

Juan's guilt over Cody and my guilt over Jayesh became a wall between us. Everyday that we ignored it, another brick was added to the wall. Before we knew it, Juan was talking about moving back to Colombia, the boys were talking about going with him, and I was talking about being left behind.

"I'm not leaving you," Juan assured me when he explained he was moving to Bogota with the boys. He was going to reopen the clinic that had died with his parents, and the boys were going to go to National University. Juan had told them so many stories of Colombia, they could not wait to go.

"I'm just getting away and recalibrating," Juan continued. "And, this is something I need to do. I feel like I owe my parents and I owe my country. You know you are welcome to come along."

I knew I was. But, I also knew I wasn't. Either way, it was a hollow gesture, as Juan knew I couldn't leave my job and our life to spend four years in Colombia.

Juan bought an apartment in Bogota. The boys enrolled in school. Before I knew it, I was rattling around our house alone, my husband and children thousands of miles away with no real plan to bridge the distance. There was talk of me visiting every two months for a week, but that would be too much time away from work. There was no talk of Juan returning to San Diego. It was a given that I would travel toward him.

About a year into our separation, I was at my nadir. I felt helpless and lonely.

I was shocked and surprised when I received a letter from John that read:

Carrot:

It has been too long.

I am not a fool anymore.

I want to spend (at least) my 50th birthday with you.

Come at once.

LIAB, Tons, A&F

Josie

I pretended for awhile not to know that I would go. But, from the moment I read the letter, I knew that I would. It felt like a life raft.

I didn't tell Juan I was going. I did not know all that he was doing in Colombia, and he didn't know all that I was doing while he was in Colombia.

I was pensive as I flew south. I wondered if this was what I had always wondered about, or if it was just a every once and again fling.

I was one of the last passengers off the plane. I saw John and smiled. He rushed toward me and took me into his arms.

"Oh my God, Mace. So many people had gotten off. I thought you were not coming."

"I traded my seat. I allowed that elderly Mexican woman to take my first class seat and I took her seat, in the back of coach."

"Of course you did."

It was late when we checked into our hotel and settled into our room. It had been a long day of travel, and I was spent.

I showered and slid into bed. John kissed me. It was magic, just like it always had been.

John went to shower. I fell asleep. When I awoke, it was tomorrow.

John's hands were all over me. "Mace," he said. "Wake up, baby."

I squinted and opened my eyes. "Don't ever call me baby again," I admonished. "It's one of my pet peeves. I'm not a baby. I'm a man. I hate when lovers call each other baby. It makes me cringe."

"Is that what we are, lovers?"

"I assume that's what this is about."

"Then wake up. I want my birthday present."

I rolled onto my back and smiled at him. "I'm here. You already got your present."

He kissed me. As it had so many years ago, lightning struck and thunder rolled as our tongues lashed.

When we broke, he assured me he had never stopped loving me. I assured him the same. "That's what 'always and forever' means," I reminded him again.

We had traveled a long way to spend the week in bed, but that is basically what we did. We had a lot of time for which we had to make up.

We had both gotten much better at same-sex sex. San Blas was magical. There was little we did not do, or at least try.

Our last night, we went for a walk on the beach. We were holding hands. Not sure of the answer, I asked, "What's next?"

"I think you should divorce Juan and move to Denver."

"I'm not going to divorce Juan. And, I'm not going to move to Denver."

"You have to divorce Juan to marry me."

"Who said anything about marrying you?"

I think John was suprised at the breadth and depth of my love for Juan. I think he thought he could waltz in and steal Juan's dance partner, notwithstanding that our song had been playing for twenty years. I had popped his balloon.

Still, I didn't want to lose John again. I also like the idea of having someone while Juan was gone.

We decided I would tell Juan that we had reconnected and then leave it to him. If Juan wanted a divorce, we would decide if that was the right thing to do. If he did not, we would not, and I would continue to visit him in Colombia, unless and until Juan decided to return to the States. I would visit John in the meantime. I was not giving Juan a "no John" option.

Juan and I had extended conversations over the telephone and on my next visit to Colombia. In them, Juan made clear he did not want a divorce. He had promised me forever, and he intended to deliver it.

He put it back on me, asking me if I wanted a divorce. I admitted I did not. I loved Juan, and I was committed to him. We were attenuated, but what bound us together was stronger than what pushed us apart.

We were in bed the morning I was headed back to San Diego. He smiled at me, and his smile galvanized me. "I want you to come home," I said.

"I know, but I can't. I will, but not right now."

"I don't have to do this," I offered, hoping my purported selflessness would bring him and my sons home.

"I can't ask you not to," he answered. "I'm the one who left. There were many reasons, some bad, some good, and some neither. But, I left. I don't think it's fair if I make that decision for me and then force you to make this decision for me, too."

Neither of us said a word for the longest time. I broke the silence, "Promise me you're coming back, Puta."

"I promise. . . . But, you need to live in the meantime. If that includes John, then I'll have to be okay with it. I won't be happy about it, but I'll be okay with it. I'm no angel, so I can't expect you to be."

I unloaded about Jayesh. I don't know why, years later, I felt compelled to tell him everything, but I did.

"I knew," he said.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I almost lost you over Cody. I was unwilling to risk losing you over a fling with an Indian kid who made you feel young and sexy but who was, in the end, not a threat to us. You don't go for shiny new things."

I felt small. I had purposefully forced Juan to tell me what I didn't want to know, and he had purposefully avoided forcing me to tell him what he didn't want to know. I contemplated that I may have had our relationship backward, always thinking I was the pole and he was the flag, whipping in the wind.

If I had been better, I'd have abandoned John in the wake of Juan's admission. But, I was not as strong as I should have been. I was selfish, and I took advantage of Juan's pledge to "be okay with it."

I visited John every other weekend in Denver. John visited me the weekends I did not visit him.

I continued to travel to Bogota once every four months. For the week I was with John and the boys, there was no history of whomever or Cody or Jayesh, and there was no current of John. It was just two husbands and two sons, living as a family. In the day, we were fathers. In the night, we were lovers. Sometimes, we were rapacious. Other times, we were going through the motions.

On my third trip after John returned, Juan raised the subject of John. "What if we brought him into us?" he asked.

"How do you mean?"

"You'd be the fulcrum. He loves you, I love you, you love us both. If we insist on traditions, either he is going to get crushed or I am. I think it'll be him, but I almost lost you once. I'm not willing to risk losing you again. Until I return, I think this may be the only way to ensure that we are not too far gone by the time I return."

"How would it work?"

"Awkwardly and poorly, if at all. But, I'm not going to make you choose, because I can't bear the idea of you choosing anything other than us. . . . I have thought about this a lot, and I think it's the only way."

"I need to think about it."

I thought for a long time. While Juan was in Bogota, what he was offering meant only that John would join me on trips to Bogota. It would not affect my life in San Diego or John's life in Denver.

But, it also seemed like a bit of a capitulation, both by Juan and by me. Juan's move to Bogota certainly signaled that something was awry between us, but there was no doubt in either of our minds that - barring something unforeseen - he was coming back.

His offer to allow John into us - and my willingness to consider accepting - suggested to me that we were no longer complete with only each other. Juan told me I was overthinking it, as I usually did.

"We're almost fifty years old. We've been together over twenty-five years. We have a solid foundation, but cracks are starting to show. We just need a little repair work."

"Allowing a third person into us seems like a little more than repair work."

"Mace," Juan corrected me, "he's already in. He has been since we started. You didn't choose me over him. He wasn't offering what I was offering. You chose what I was offering. And, he never went away. He's always been lurking, and now he's back. I don't know how often you see him, and I don't want to know. But, I know it is more than 'infrequently,' and I know you want it to continue. These are the terms under which it can continue."

That was that. Juan had resolved my indecision by making a decision. I told John that Juan wanted him to come to Bogota with me on my next trip.

"Seriously?"

"He wants to see if there is a long-term solution that works for everyone."

"There is. Divorce and re-marriage."

"Not everyone gets divorced as easily as you," I chided.

"Ouch," he responded.

As the trip approached, Juan and I talked about what he meant by "the fulcrum." I wasn't sure if he meant I'd spend some nights him and some nights with John, and Juan had laughed at loud at my inquiry.

"No, Mace, I'm not talking about you going room to room. I'm talking about the three of us being together, in kind of a three headed relationship."

I laughed at my ignorance and then corrected Juan. "I think it would be six headed." We both laughed at my correction.

I didn't tell John the details, but he joined me on my next trip. I put my bags in the Master, and John's in the second bedroom. I wasn't sure when we planned to drop in on him.

After dinner, I reconfirmed with Juan that he meant what he had said. "I did," he assured me. "I think it's is the only way."

"When should we address it with John?"

He grabbed his crotch. "No time like the present."

We went to visit the guest room. When John answered our knock, I dropped the bomb. "We'd like you to join us . . . . In our bed."

"Yes, please," Juan added.

John looked dumbfounded. I thought he might pass out.

"It's the only way," I assured him.

John followed us to our room. We stripped and climbed into bed together. We took turns fucking and sucking each other. It was less awkward and worked better than I expected.

We were in Bogota a week. We spent every night and every morning like we had spent that first night.

John traveled with me to Bogota every three months for the next three years. Sometimes, we were all three co-stars, sometimes Juan and I took top billing, and sometimes John and I took top billing. Rarely, John and Juan took top billing, typically only if I insisted that I wanted to watch them.

When we were not in Bogota, I spent the weekdays working and talking with Juan and the boys via Skype. I spent the weekends with John. I was not certain how Juan spent the weekends, other than that our credit card showed weekends trips throughout Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Venezuela. I know our boys were on some of those trips, but not most of them. I also knew there was no way Juan would travel alone.

*****

Andres and Camilo graduated from the National University with degrees in biology and followed their father to UCSD's Medical School. Juan followed his sons back to the States, back to his house with me, and back to us. We never talked about how or why, but he had apparently recalibrated whilst in Bogota.

With Juan's return, I wondered whether John would recede. He did, but only a little. I stopped visiting Denver every other weekend, but John continued to visit San Diego. We blew out the second floor and added a custom bed that easily accommodated three adults, and John joined us in it when he was in town.

While John was flying in from Denver, everything worked. When he retired, things got complicated.

We wanted him in San Diego, as he had become a significant part of our lives. But, he seemed like a guest once he arrived, especially when we were not fucking. It's one thing to have three in a bed. It's a whole other thing to have three in a life, especially in the quiet moments when the only communication was through a smile or a slight touch. Those moments belonged to me and Juan. John was not part of them.

John was not ignorant. He could sense the discomfort and figured he was the odd man out. Without a word, he moved out of our room and into the guest room. Juan predicted he'd move out altogether. I knew better. I knew he could not. He was not strong enough.

John was a spectator in our life, and he sometimes joined the cast. But, it was only for limited sexual performances and only at our invitation. The rest of our lives belonged to me and Juan and our boys.

At times, I wondered what my life would have been if John had said yes to my simple question at Freddie's wedding. He should have. We all know that. But, if he had, I would never have met Juan, much less married him and raised two sons with him.

Sometimes, the best decisions are the ones we don't make. Sometimes, the best decisions are the ones others don't make.

John's cowardice or weakness or whatever it was had led me to Juan, and - for the second time in my short life - I had caught lightning in a bottle. We kept the lid on the bottle, at least enough of the time to preserve a little of the magic. We do not have a perfect life, but we have a happy life. We are friends and lovers, husbands and fathers. We try not to sin and forgive each other when we do. We both yield enough to give the other room to breathe and to live. We set each other on the path to our dreams and urge the other to keep walking, if they are not able to run.

I still love John. I always will. That's what "always and forever" means. At times, like when we were in the Sudan visiting Chet, I see what our life would have been like eventually, if I had been patient and willing to wait in the dark. It would have been a good life.

But, I'm glad it wasn't my life. I'd have been a shadow of the man I became. I was not a fungus. I could not thrive in the damp darkness of a life half hidden under fallen leaves.

I wanted John, but I needed Juan. And like the song says, sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.