Two Doms

A week later, Nick still hadn't caved. Every night we would go to sleep stubbornly facing opposite directions, and every morning I would watch from the bleachers as he screwed around on the track with Karl. 

I didn't let it get to me. Karl was not a threat. He wasn't even that good of an athlete. Nick always easily trounced him at hurdles, and when it came to the hundred-meter dash, which I had gathered was Karl's specialty, Nick still beat him almost half the time. And Karl always made a big scene when he lost, sarcastically bowing down to Nick or shoving him around like he was mad. One time Nick and Karl spent the whole training session doing this stupid bit where they would lunge at each other like they were gonna throw a punch, to see if they could make the other guy flinch. Really funny stuff, guys. Really clever. 

Still, Nick kept his word about not doing anything physical with me. He even started putting a pillow between us when we went to sleep. So childish. Like I was really that desperate for him?

I wanted to complain about his petty behavior to Miel, but obviously that wasn't an option. Still, she was sympathetic when I told her vaguely that he was being a dick again.

“Just ignore him, Dom,” she said, “Guys are dumb.”

“They really are,” I muttered.

We were sitting up in the gnarled oak in the central quad, high in the branches. We were only a couple of meters off the ground, but we were high. 

It was Mateus who had introduced me to weed, one night when we were all working late at the studio. My father's warnings had been correct, it turned out. Artists did like drugs. Jess and Shawnee were experienced smokers, and Miel was avidly pro-legalisation (“Do you want innocent people to spend their lives rotting in prison?”). Kermit was the only one who abstained, but for a moment the thought had crossed my mind whether being an accomplice to pot-smoking would be enough to get him expelled. All it would require was selling out the rest of my friends in the process. 

I couldn't go through with it. Selling them out, that is. I did try smoking weed. The peer pressure was just too strong (Mateus offered some, and Shawnee said, “Oh, I think you would like it.”) I told myself that there would be better opportunities to take down Kermit without as much collateral damage. There was plenty of time. I could handle rooming with Nick for a little bit longer. 

Today it was just me and Miel in the tree, and the pot was making me feel warm and fuzzy. 

“So…” I said slyly, “How was your date with Kermit?”

Kermit had asked Miel over to his dorm the night before, to talk about something important. It was a very exciting development. Miel had still not ever actually told him she liked him, but we had both been hopeful that he was about to make a move. I hoped that Miel would at least get a chance to go on a date with him before he got kicked out. If he got kicked out…

Miel groaned, “Guys are so dumb, Little Dom.”

“Aw no,” I said, “It wasn't a date?”

“No,” Miel said glumly, “I mean, it was still kind of cool though. He has an idea for his next project. He didn't tell me exactly what it was, but he said it's going to be really big. And really controversial.”

She sighed dreamily, “He’s such a visionary.”

“He's not that visionary if he can't see how great you are,” I pointed out.

Miel smiled, “Actually… he did ask me to be a part of his project. He says it's top secret. If the school found out what he’s planning, he could get expelled. But he trusted me!”

“Oh my gosh,” I said. I felt a bit dizzy and clung onto the tree tightly to make sure I didn't fall out, “Should… should you be telling me that?”

“Oh…” Miel looked pensive, then she giggled. Gosh, she really was high, “Of course! He trusts me, and I trust you. Hey! Would you wanna be part of it too?”

“Uhh…” my head was swimming. This was exactly the opportunity I had been looking for. This was my way to get Kermit gone for good. 

“Come onnnn…” Miel weedled, “Help out with Kermit’s big secret project! Don't you like big secrets, Little Dom?”

My phone rang before I could answer. I fumbled it out of my back pocket (I was wearing girls’ jeans, and the front pockets were too small to fit a phone) and stared at the screen in horror.

“Who is it?” Miel asked.

“It's my father,” I said, “...’s assistant Nicole.”

“His assistant?” said Miel.

“He never calls himself!” I said, “He’s too busy! Miel, what do I do?”

“He never calls himself…” Miel mused, “I guess that makes sense. It would go straight to his own voicemail.”

“Miel, I’m too high for this,” I hissed, “She's gonna know I'm high! And then Father's gonna know! And he's going to send me to military school!”

“I think that's just for kids,” said Miel.

“Then he's gonna send me to the actual military!” I wailed, “I'm gonna be one of those jackbooted imperialists you warned me about! I don't want to expand the American empire!”

“Hey, hey,” Miel soothed, “Just by existing in a capitalist system, you're feeding the military machine.”

“What?” I said.

“I don't know, I'm high too,” Miel giggled helplessly, “Quick, we’ve been talking for like thirty minutes, answer the call!”

I couldn't help but laugh too, answering the call with a panicked giggle.

“Hi! It's Dominic Lane at your service!” I said. Miel covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. I gestured at her frantically to shut up. 

“Hi Dominic!” Nicole said brightly, “Your father’s going to be in town this week for business. Are you free on Thursday evening for a father-son catch-up?”

“Um!” I stammered, “What– what would that consist of, exactly?”

“Hmm,” Nicole mused, “I don't have an exact itinerary, but I imagine you would give him a tour of the campus, show him your dorm room, introduce him to your friends. And just tell him what you've been up to so far this semester!”

“Oh!” I said weakly, “Great!”

“I'll pencil you in for 6pm?” Said Nicole.

“That's… that's perfect Nicole,” I said, “Thank you.”

“A pleasure speaking to you, Dominic!” she chirped, “Have a lovely day!”

“Thanks Nicole, you too,” I said.

I put my phone away numbly. Miel clearly noticed the horrified expression on my face, “What happened?”

“Father is visiting,” I said. 

“Oh,” she winced. I hadn't told Miel much about my father, but she knew he was strict. And not fond of artists. “Okay, don't worry about the Kermit thing right now, okay? But take a couple days to think about it maybe.”

***

Father coming to visit meant I had to change some things. After the art showing, I had begun wearing makeup more often. Not a lot, and not always. Just when I wanted to look a little nicer, or when I thought it would go with my outfit, or I was having a bad morning and wanted a self esteem boost. Okay, it had been every day since the showing. I liked feeling pretty. Anyway, that had to stop. 

In a short-sighted moment of excitement, I had donated all of my remaining men's clothing at an ACORN clothing drive. It seemed like a good idea at the time! I hated wearing it, girl clothes were just so much cuter. And there were so many androgynous options. If I was going to wear a t-shirt and jeans, there was no reason it couldn't be a girls t-shirt and jeans. Except that the idea of Father noticing the way the waist sat a little higher on my hips, or the collar scooped a little lower to show off my delicate collarbones, and demanding to see the label… it wasn't worth thinking about. I needed proper men's clothing, and not the cheap stuff from the local mall. An evening visit meant we would likely be dining out, which meant I needed, ugh, a suit. And what if Father checked my dresser for some reason? I would need clothes to fill it. I made some frantic online purchases with expedited shipping. It was pricey, but Father's accountant wouldn't question clothing purchases. A man must have his wardrobe. 

God, he wasn't even here and I could already feel myself slipping into the rigidly proper, deferential manner he had drilled into me. As Thursday got closer I found myself walking stiffer, holding my tongue more, watching what I said. I had let myself get too comfortable. That wouldn't do when Father was here.

I knew I would have to ask Nick to clear out of the room while Father was visiting, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. After all our battles over ownership of the room, to just ask him to leave, even temporarily, felt insane. Instead I withdrew. I kept my head down and avoided conflict or drawing attention to myself. I studied quietly. I had let my grades slip while I was focusing on art practice, and I deeply regretted it now. What if Father brought it up?

I didn't dress up, even when I was home alone. I shoved my skirts and dresses to the back of the drawer and covered them up with collared shirts and trousers. I couldn't bring myself to stop wearing panties, though. I needed at least one thing to feel like myself. But I stuck to neutral black boyshorts, and made sure boxers were front and center in my dresser drawer. 

I kept to my side of the bed when we slept. If Nick had asked for a blowjob, I would've said no, for sure. He didn't, though. Still being petty.

Nick and I had done some decorating around the dorm room. After every ACORN event I took part in, I had kept a flyer for myself and stuck them to the back of the door. A little collage of memories, times I had fun or helped people or both. Those would have to go. I had some artwork from the studio, a couple pieces of my own that I was proud of, some that my friends had made for me. Those also had to go. Nick had his training calendar on the wall, a few photos of his family, and a stupid Sports Illustrated pinup poster that I was certain he only put up to annoy me. Who read Sports Illustrated these days? Anyway, Father had paid specifically for me to have my own room. So that meant all of Nick’s stuff had to go, too. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding,” said Nick.

“It's just for one night!” I said.

Admittedly, I probably could've broken the news better. I had put the conversation off until the absolute last second, so Nick came back to the room on Thursday afternoon to find me hurriedly cramming the last of his things into a cardboard box, and I had to frantically explain myself before he started throwing things.

“This is fucking low, dude,” Nick shook his head, “This better not be some kind of trick.”

“It's not, I swear,” I said miserably, “My father's on his way to campus and he can't find out I've been living like this. I can't … he just can't, Nick.”

Nick grimaced. He knew a bit about my father too. I reached for the tape, to seal the box shut. Nick snatched it away.

“Is this why you’ve been acting all…” he gestured at me vaguely with the tape, searching for the right way to say it, “Creepy?”

A flicker of annoyance cut through my gloomy mood. “Creepy?”

“You know,” said Nick, “Dressing like a weird old guy, walking around like a robot…”

“I do not walk like a robot!” I said hotly, “And I haven't been acting creepy!”

“Yeah, see, that's you,” Nick pointed at me. I snatched for the tape but he yanked it away. “That's Nick Lane right there. That shrill little bratty voice. Why you been talking so deep, dude?”

“I'm not shrill!” I said shrilly. Crap. I hadn't realized how high I had let my speaking voice drift over the past few months. I forced my voice back into a more masculine range, “Look, my father expects me to behave a certain way, okay? I'm just preparing for when he gets here.” 

Nick shook his head, “You worry about this stuff too much, Nick. Just be yourself. I'm sure your dad won't mind.”

I scoffed, “Don't act like you know my father. And give me that tape already.”

Nick sighed and twirled the tape around his finger petulantly. 

“So what am I supposed to do?” he said, “Where do I go?”

“Okay, I did plan this,” I said nervously. I wasn't sure Nick would love the plan. “So… you know the campus library is open twenty-four hours…”

“You want me to pull an all-nighter in the fucking library?” said Nick.

“There are beanbags on the ground floor!” I said.

“I'm not sleeping in the fucking library, Nick!” said Nick, “I'm not homeless!”

“Hey!” I glared up at him. I had helped out at enough ACORN events to know a little something about homelessness. The reality was a long way from what Father had always said. “Don't say that like it's disgusting. There are lots of reasons people might be unhoused, it's not a moral failing. You're not too good to be homeless.”

“Yeah,” Nick muttered, “I'm aware.”

There was a dark tone to his voice, and I realized again how little I really knew about Nick’s life before college. I opened my mouth to say something and Nick flashed me a look that very clearly said to drop it. 

I sighed, “Look, I know this is really shitty and unfair for me to ask, but… I need this, Nick. Please? It's my father.”

Nick groaned and tossed me the tape, “Fuck. Okay. Fine.”

“Yes! Oh my god, thank you,” I beamed and began taping the box shut, “I put all your books and stuff in this box, and you can just grab some clothes from the dresser and I'll cover the rest with my stuff.”

“You think your dad is gonna check the dresser?” Nick said incredulously.

I shook my head, “Not risking it.”

I finished sealing the box and wrote DOMINIC LANE on it with a marker. Hmm. Not really specific enough. I reluctantly added (THE BIG ONE).

“Thanks for doing this,” I smiled up at Nick from the floor. Oh, this was a familiar angle. I batted my eyelashes flirtatiously, “You know, I'm gonna owe you a huuuuge favor for this.”

Nick winced, “Ah, dude, things with Karl are kinda…”

Oh my god, he was still doing this? Not that the rejection bothered me (like I was so desperate to owe Nick a favor, sexual or otherwise?) but the way he said it, so sincere, like I actually cared about whatever stupid crap he was getting up to with Karl… it made my blood boil.

“Fine!” I said, “Whatever! Maybe go stay with Karl if he’s so fucking great!”

“Maybe I fucking will!” Nick spat.

“Good!” I said, “I hope you do! See how much he likes you when he has to share a room with you!”

“Fuck off, Nick!” he snapped.

“You fuck off Nick!” I yelled. Shrilly. Damn it!

Nick gathered up his stuff and left, slamming the door behind him as always. Idiot! 

I did a last double-check of the room, making sure there were no signs of any queer or subversive activities. When I was done, I sat at my desk and waited for Father to arrive. 

He didn't.

Six o’clock came and went with me still sitting anxiously at my desk. I knew better than to call. My father was a busy man, and couldn’t be expected to be precisely on time for me on every occasion. At 6:38 Nicole called to let me know Father had been unavoidably detained and would reschedule our meeting for tomorrow. I thanked her stiffly and reevaluated things.

I couldn't bring myself to tell Nick. After our conversation I really didn't want him back in my room anyway.  

I wore men's pajamas to bed that night. It was my first night with the room all to myself, but I didn't feel triumphant. I just felt cold.

***

I slept in the next morning. I had gotten used to Nick waking me up for training. I ended up missing it entirely, which I wasn't too upset about. I could do without seeing Nick and Karl goofing around together first thing in the morning.

I told Nick what had happened during our microeconomics lecture.

“He just bailed last minute?” Nick asked, “Shows where you got your manners, I guess.”

“His schedule is constantly changing,” I said, “He’s the chief executive of one of the largest holdings companies in America. He can't be expected to prioritize a college student.”

Nick shrugged, “Can't blame him. I’d prefer to work than get dinner with you too.”

“Could you possibly stay out of the room again tonight?” I asked, “Please?”

“Ugh,” Nick sighed, “Fuck it, sure. Karl said I can hang the whole weekend, actually.*

“That shouldn't be necessary,” I said, ignoring the Karl reference that was clearly only meant to annoy me, “He should be here tonight.”

“If he doesn't bail again,” said Nick.

“I'm sure he won't,” I said. 

He did. At least I found out earlier this time. I got a call from Nicole at 5:55, while I was again sitting anxiously at my desk. 

I spent another night alone in men's pajamas.