Swift as a Coursing River | Ongoing

9. Forest fire

Warning: this one's really heavy on the internalised homophobia and general bigoted opinions.

***

"Have you ever thought about children, Vincent?" Caroline asks.

"Oh, dear. You're really going for it, aren't you? I have thought about it, but biology is a bitch and I doubt my odds to foster or adopt are all that great as a single man. And the little devils are only amusing if you can go home at the end of the day. Less chances to fuck up another human too." Vincent's words are careless, but Edwin wonders if he regrets that he can't have biological children. His daughters were born without years anxiously waiting for a chance to adopt someone or getting attached only to let them go back to their families. If he hadn't married a woman, that would have been his fate.

"Yeah, that's one of my biggest fears: to have this tiny person who depends on me bear the consequences for the rest of their life if I say or do something wrong." Caroline taps her glass in a rhythm of fast-fast-fast-stop.

"I guess we're cowards here compared to our master on the subject." Vincent gestures at Edwin. "Or too much childhood trauma to pass down."

"Probably the latter," Caroline jokes.

Edwin shakes his head. "Children are strong. And I love them more than I'm afraid of hurting them. If anything, that's selfish."

"But Sandra and Tamara are great, so I think you did pretty well there," Caroline reassures him.

"They are, but I did have an awesome woman at my side." He could have raised them on his own, but they were better parents together.

"No denying that. But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." Caroline puts her glass down and Edwin realises he hasn't sipped from his in a while. It gives him a few moments of respite from carrying the conversation with Vincent on his own.

However, Vincent breaks the silence first: "I knew I was right about you in May. I've got a nose for these things." Vincent taps his nose and Edwin notices a small silver piercing glinting in the light.

"Right about what?" Vincent's smug expression makes his hackles rise.

"No offence, honey, but you looked very much like a straight man who was dropped in a pride of gay lions. You said you're gay, but you have a wife and kids and you act like it." His wrist goes limp and the drop of his hand is so incredibly dismissive.

"Had." Edwin doesn't hide the ice in his voice, so cold it burns. "We divorced this year. After I came out."

Vincent's jaws move without uttering a word, his eyes wide. "That's ... Congrats." He smiles tightly. "It's easier said than done to live your truth." His muscles relax into something more genuine. The sincere answer surprises Edwin. No nicknames, no jokes, no flirting. Would Vincent truly empathise with his struggle now?

"Are you mocking me?"

"Mocking you?" Horror dawns on Vincent's face. "Of course not! Honey, I'm speaking from experience. I have my opinions, but your journey is yours and I will never invalidate that or try to tell you who you are."

"It sure feels like you're doing exactly that. You're constantly telling me I must be straight," Edwin huffs.

"No, no, you got that wrong, dear. I'm saying you look and dress and act like a cishet white man. And believe me, I know the type."

And what's that type? Normal? "Now you're just judging me because I'm not like you."

"What do you mean, not like me?" Vincent's tone turns distrusting.