from the closet. door closed. behind the winter jackets.

While the phone rang, I licked my arm. I’d just sailed into the house from my afternoon visit to the gym. Thinking of J’s note and the way things taste. His voice came through as the word salty hit the tip of my tongue. I swallowed hard and closed myself into my closet.

It was Andy who answered the phone, and I immediately had to fight the urge to ask for Paul. I think it surprised him the way I confided the information and as I talked, I heard Paul pick up and so I told them both.

I worry over people and, most of the time, making sure the ones I love are safe, happy, secure, loved . . . is my biggest priority. They agree that Jules doesn’t sound well and they promise to visit him this weekend. It’s a huge favor, but they’re the closest geographically. We’re all probably the closest thing we have to family, in lots of cases, anyway. The last time I talked to Jules’ brother he told me to, and I quote, “fuck off.” He thinks I have motivations.

We go over the details. What’s been said. Recent actions. The note from the mail. Paul and I worry about these swings in Jules’ emotions that have gotten worse over the last few years. Paul makes a reference to suicide concerns. I flinch. Andy excuses himself. I imagine Paul has waved him off. I know it’s something we have to take seriously. It’s why I made the call.

Paul and I agree that we worry too much and that it’s probably just J being J. If it had only been the note, I wouldn’t have worried. He does things like that all the time. It’s mainly the conversations we’ve been having – the fact that he’s pushed everyone away again. I don’t tell Paul how worried I am. He changes the subject.

They aren’t having much luck on the adoption front, but apparently are still trying. He hints, again, about the possibility that I might change my mind – donate an egg – be the surrogate. And I do wish I could offer up my resources and my body in these circumstances. I love Paul and Andy and I know they will make great parents. But there’s just no way I could do it. Not right now. Paul even contacted his identical twin and asked if she would be willing to help, but she apparently wasn’t very friendly. Andy’s family stopped speaking to him after he came out of the closet many many years ago. They feel hopeless and I feel wretched because they are my friends and there is something that I could do – I just won’t. Paul doesn’t try to make me feel guilty. He just sounds sad, and I tell him everything will work out. I know he doesn’t believe me.

I tell him my latest and compiled with the rest of the conversation, I being to cry. He’s furious about what is and has been going on. Screams at me over the line to get out of here. It isn’t that bad, but I understand where this is coming from. He won’t let me off the phone without directions from the airport to my house. Vows he’s getting on a flight this week and that he’s going to straighten some things out in person. I love my friends, even when they’re being unrealistic.

But then I worried when I came back out of the closet, that I was going to be in trouble for talking to Paul on the phone – and I felt foolish for having hidden myself away. I tried to ask myself what the hell I’m doing, and then got into the shower and let the hot water hit the back of my neck.