That’s all very well, thought Esmé, but how can I trust you? Both of you? Either of you?
All right, Keith was bi. And maybe if he hadn’t had to live on the streets he would never have found out about his gay side. And maybe not. Maybe he was always going to find out he was attracted to men. She knew he loved her, well, for some meaning of ‘love’. She was very mistrustful of the glittery shimmering artefact which everybody proclaimed as romantic love. White wedding dresses and soppy romantic kissing and lurve. But at the same time, she needed it, desperately, because it somehow showed her that her own life was worth something, that she was worth something. As Jason—he was lovely. He had a kind smile, and a beaut hunky muscular body, and his eyes were alive and interesting. Does he love Keith? she thought. Really and truly? Will he just fuck off later when he’s sick of us all and leave us in the lurch? Part of her rejoiced at this intriguing prospect, but then she squashed it mercilessly. Keith would be terribly hurt if Jason went away. Keith loved him. And though Jason loved Brent, he was obviously fond—very fond—of Keith.
And yet, they were also friends. Could you have friends if you were also having sex with them? Keith had taught her how to make love without pain. He was kind, like Jason was kind, and that was worth something. Anyway, what did it matter? She was in love with Keith and that was a simple fact and spending some time with him was far better than not having him in her life at all. It was enough for now. She must be glad and not greedy. She was happier now than she’d been for years.