It's a Saturday afternoon and Edwin came over early so he and Ellen could cook an elaborate dinner together. They're cleaning out a pumpkin and cutting vegetables for fresh soup, but that's just an excuse to hang out and catch up. It's a well-worn routine, warm and familiar, something they've kept up on occasional Saturdays even after he moved out. Edwin loves being here, in the house he's lived for 3 decades, with the woman he's known and loved even longer. It might be bittersweet now, but the bitterness is seeping out. And maybe it's okay, that bitter aftertaste. He's always liked grapefruit.

Edwin is grateful for their extra private time today, without Sandra or Tamara around to pounce on his every word. He'd asked Ellen on Wednesday if she had time for a long afternoon of cooking, so she probably suspects he wants to talk about something. He's always done better at emotional conversations when he had to devote half his brain to what his hands were doing. He thinks too much sometimes.

He's thought a lot this past week. About Vincent, and attraction, and how oblivious he can be about what he feels. It's such a mess of thoughts and feelings. If every thought or feeling was a tree, he'd be lost in the woods without a trail. It's hard to figure out where to even start.

"Did you hear that Clara and Johan have become grandparents?" Ellen asks.

"Oh, no, I didn't know. That's nice. Whose baby is it? Laura's?"

"Yeah. She married her boyfriend in June. You haven't kept up with any of our friends?"

"Ah, not really. They were always more your friends."

Ellen frowns and stops dicing. "Don't say that. They like you!"

"Yeah, but as your husband. Not as a friend in my own right. None of them reached out to me after the divorce. Except Caroline, but she was my friend before she was yours."

"Really? No one? I talked to all of them and they were very nice about it."

Edwin shrugs and dumps the contents of his cutting board in the big soup pot. "They're your friends. Of course they supported you. I'm not saying they are homophobic, just that they care more about you than me. But I've been making new friends of my own. Gay friends."

"Yeah, you told me. Is that still going well? They've been supporting you?"

Emotional support might not be the right word for Patrick and the other guys, but they've kept the loneliness at bay. Accepted and included him. Made him feel welcome, like he belonged and had friends he could fall back on. "Yeah, they're fine. Fun. It's nice to know they're like me. Not like Benjamin."

"Fuck Benjamin." Edwin laughs. Ellen doesn't swear often, but he loves her protective streak.

"I'm a little annoyed at the guys now," Ellen says. "They should have acted like proper friends. Or at least said something."

"It's okay. I know I'm the reason for the divorce and you needed the support more."

"Don't be like that. We were both hurting."

"I know, but ... I feel I really hurt you. I wish I didn't hurt you like that. Something that big. You're the most important person in my life, after Sandra and Tamara."

"Aw, Edwin." Ellen walks around the table to awkwardly hug him with her elbows, because her hands are wet and sticky from the vegetables. "I already cut the onions. Don't make me cry again. It's okay. I was hurt, but I hurt you too. I know you were hurt. You told me, and I was too hurt to listen to your hurt, to realise that you were hurting equally."

"I ... Yeah, but I understand. I'm not upset now."

"But you were. I acted as if you deliberately deceived me." You're such a good actor that I can't trust you any more.

"That's ... I wouldn't say that." It wasn't deliberate. Even he himself believed that he was genuinely, truly in love with Ellen.

"I said I couldn't trust you, and I know that hurt you. Because you were trying to do right by me."

"I did lie to you, though. I didn't tell you immediately." It had taken him more than a month to be fully, 100% sure he was gay and to decide what he should do with that knowledge, what to say.

"Because you were processing, Ed." Ellen swats the air with her knife and Edwin dodges, even though he isn't even within reach. "I know how you are. As if you were ever going to tell me about complicated feelings without chewing in circles first."

"Ellen!" Edwin huffs, but it's true. Isn't that why he's here right now? Because he's walking in circles and he needs Ellen to make him stop and think where the actual trail is. Even literally, when they went hiking, he is prone to trust his sense of direction, but it's more like a faulty GPS. Ellen would always carry an actual map and call him back before he went down a wrong trail.

"I considered not telling you," he confesses. "Because I didn't want to lose my life with you. But I knew that was unfair to you."

Ellen seems a little taken aback, but then she's smiling again. "Yeah, that would have been. I'm glad you told me. Being here now is not so bad, is it?"

Edwin smiles at her. Still having Ellen as his best friend is more than he could have asked for. "I'm glad we're here. Despite how awful I am at recognising my feelings. Or talking about them."

Ellen chuckles. "You are. A little. But I don't mind."

"Even though you wasted the best years of your life on me?"

"Not wasted." At Edwin's silence, her tone changes. "I said that, didn't I? Shit, Ed, I'm sorry. I don't really believe that."

"You're being very different than in August."

"Two months can create some perspective. I'm not saying I'm all happy, but that's just mourning the life we could have had. I'm not mad at you. For anything."

Edwin can only hold her gaze for a moment, so he focuses on cutting the pumpkin. "I feel stupid for not realising earlier. It's so obvious now. Everyone I know knew when they were young. There's a guy in the basketball team who doesn't know if he's attracted to women, but he always knew he liked men. And Caroline still knew when she was 30."

"I don't know much about sexuality, but everyone's different. I bet you're not the only one. Anyway, you know what your parents are like. I don't think it's a surprise." Ellen shoots him a wry smile.

"There's plenty of people who knew when their parents were homophobic, too."

"That's just uniquely you. Don't be so hard on yourself. You didn't know. You've always had a bit of tunnel vision. The whole chewing in circles. It is what it is."

Edwin diligently cuts the pumpkin into smaller and smaller cubes. "You'd think I'd learn from my mistakes. I never consider a new way to look at things until I'm tripping over it." He never thought to question his opinions about make-up until Vincent and his family said something. He might be learning now, but it's really a matter of time until he makes another mistake like that. He doesn't want to, but he can't see how he might ever avoid that. He'll make a fool of himself in front of Vincent.

"Is that what you've been sitting on?" Ellen takes the cutting board out from under his hands. "Let's put that soup on to boil, yeah? You want to get the potatoes?"

For a moment, they busy themselves with cooking tasks. Edwin deliberates what he wants to say. Just about attraction? Does he talk about Vincent now? About his attraction to Vincent? It seems insensitive to talk about that with Ellen when he only came out in March. Is that too soon to move on, after three decades of marriage? Is he moving on? He can't help attraction. Maybe he should talk about this with Caroline.

"So why all the thoughts about not realising sooner?" Ellen asks. "I didn't think you were that bothered about it when you came out."

"I don't know. I was, a little. But more ... I didn't want to be gay. I didn't want to destroy the life I'd built. And if I had realised earlier, I wouldn't have hurt you as much. Given you more opportunities for your own life. Even if I still only realised during our relationship."

"I don't think that would have made much of a difference. And divorcing when Sandra and Tamara still lived at home would have been so much harder." Ellen drops a long potato peel on their little heap of vegetable waste and stops peeling. "I'm making peace with how it happened. You can't change what already happened, so I don't think you should keep focusing on that."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just ... It took me fifty years to realise I was attracted to men and even then, I didn't realise when I was actually attracted to a guy I met."

"You met someone?" Edwin can't parse Ellen's tone. Is she upset? Excited?

"Not like that. He's a friend of Caroline." After a second, he adds: "The guy I argued with. About make-up."

"That guy?!" Ellen blurts out. She laughs. "That's perfect. Sparks were flying, huh."

Is that why they clashed so much? "I don't know. It's hard. I didn't realise I was attracted to him. He's ... He flirts a lot. And I know now that I'm attracted to men and not women, and then I wonder if I really do. It's easier when it's famous people because it doesn't mean anything. I don't know if — this — means anything."

"Sounds like a big tangled knot inside of you," Ellen says. Edwin snorts and nods. "I don't know if I can help, if you want advice. I've always just ... known I was attracted to men. But I think you can just ... go with the flow?" She chuckles. "You don't have to do something about it if you don't want to. Just letting yourself be attracted to men is also part of the experience. Because I don't think you've done that while we were married. Is there no one else you've liked?"

"I ... don't know." Patrick? No, not really. He's a good friend, but Edwin isn't really into the biker, leather look, or the very broad muscles. Robert, maybe. Robert has very nice arms. There's no one else among his new friends, no one else he's met. Leo is nice, but two decades younger and even the possibility that he'd see one of his married friends in that light makes him cringe. "Not really. Maybe one guy. But Vincent is ... He makes me feel — I don't know — tense. Anxious."

"Vincent is the make-up guy? And he makes you anxious and tense? That's not a good thing, Ed. Is it because you argued with him? You apologised, right?"

"Yeah, and I asked him to teach me things and we've met up a few times now. Got his number." Edwin huffs out a laugh. "But he's ... I don't even know how to describe what he's like. Bigger than life. Intimidating. I didn't like him, but maybe that was because I actually liked him? I know what I'm feeling, but I don't know if it's a good or a bad feeling." Or why he's feeling all of that. Why is he so anxious? Why does Vincent affect him so much? Why Vincent? Why couldn't the first available guy he liked be someone uncomplicated?

"I see. Does Caroline like him?"

"Everyone likes him." Even to Edwin's own ears, that sounds sullen. "He knows everyone. Even if I want it to mean anything, he must have his pick of whoever he wants. Not some guy who insulted him. I don't know anything about all the things he cares about. The LGBT history, all the new words and concepts." Nothing except what Vincent taught him. And who would be interested in a guy they're teaching? "He says I 'look straight'. I feel like I keep saying the wrong thing, but I don't know if that's me or if he thinks that too. Sometimes I don't know if he's teasing or if he's serious." He understands Vincent better now, but a conversation with him is still like quicksand; even when he thinks he's on steady ground, he might be seconds away from sinking.

"He said that, that you look straight?" Ellen's eyebrows rise up. "Isn't that, you know, homophobic? I don't think you're supposed to say someone 'looks gay', so why would 'looking straight' be okay? You look just fine. You know you don't need to change how you look to be gay, right?"

"I know, but he ... I don't know, he makes me doubt myself. Question why I'm doing or thinking things. But yeah, I ... That's really what bothers me. I was wrong about make-up and I'm trying to stop making the same mistakes, but he makes me feel like I'm not gay enough. That I should be better, different. But then he says things that are very nice and understanding and he answers my questions and he toned down his flirting and teasing and I don't know what to feel. Maybe I just needed to get used to what he's like." When Ellen doesn't immediately say something, Edwin keeps talking. "We went running on Monday and it was really nice. We talked about gender stuff, but he also told me fun stories, asked questions, really listened. Like we were friends. A friend like Caroline. He told me how some of what he does is just for show." But there was very little show during their run. Without it, a conversation with Vincent is intimate. Vincent stripped bare, but Edwin felt naked. "I think he's had a lot of bad experiences and that's why he's like that."

"Bad experiences are no excuse for making you feel bad. Your other friends don't do that, I hope."

"No, no, they're great. Some of them are just ... they have the same opinions that I did before you set me straight. About feminine men. But there's others who think like Vincent. He has this friend, Kim, and ... they are non-binary and I like — them. They're like Vincent, but it didn't feel like an attack." Edwin pauses. "Do you think ... Maybe that's the attraction, that rush? Maybe I'm not at ease because I want to impress him."

Ellen nods thoughtfully. "You might be right. Remember that time before we were together, when we all went out drinking and I spilled drinks all over you?" That evening, Edwin had gone out with some people from his dorm and the others had brought friends. He'd met Ellen a few times before, in the living quarters with other people around. Mostly he'd smiled at her and asked about her studies. His friends would tease him about his crush and he hadn't considered that before — Ellen was just a nice girl, who happened to be pretty — but maybe he did have a crush. It's really laughably ironic now. Of course he didn't have a crush. He just liked a girl as a friend, but because he was a guy and she was a girl, their friends thought he had a crush. And he accepted it because he'd never had a crush before. And his friends had, so they must know what it felt like and they must be right.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"I was always so nervous when I was talking to you. That's why I dropped all the drinks I was holding right on you. I had such sweaty hands." Ellen laughs. She had been terribly apologetic then. She hadn't seemed nervous. It's hard to imagine she could have ever been nervous because even then, she was very independent and knew what she wanted. They had gone to the bathroom together to clean up and she had flirted with him. He had awkwardly flirted back because he did get that hint, but she'd still had to ask if he was going to kiss her, before he'd gotten on with that. He'd been a little nervous, sure, about doing it right, treating her right, but not that rush. Ellen had always been terribly easy.

He's never had a real crush before, been truly in love with someone. Or did he have one without realising? On one of his classmates? He remembers looking, but carefully not looking, appreciating, in locker rooms. That might have been sexual attraction. But it was passable. Not something that uprooted him. Do crushes have to be like that?

"Is that how you know that it actually means something? Beyond 'I could probably sleep with that person but I won't because I don't know them'?"

"I think so? I don't actually have that much more experience than you." Ellen laughs. "I'm not counting my boyfriend in primary school who lasted for all of 2 hours."

Edwin shakes his head, smiling. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna help me with Vincent."

"Does that mean you want to consider doing something about him? Doesn't have to be a relationship. Maybe just some flirting and fun."

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't want to jump at the chance with the first guy I like, just because I have no experience."

"Yeah, don't write off anyone else. Or at least talk to him about how he's making you feel. The anxiety, that you're not gay enough. He doesn't have the right, no matter how ... 'gay' he is." Ellen's stern tone soothes that wound inside him. Vincent really never had the right to judge him, no more than Edwin shouldn't have judged him. "I've never met him, so I can't say if you're projecting your self-doubt from a lifetime of not knowing you're gay, or if he's judgy and close-minded, but it's not teasing if you're not in on it."

"I don't think he's close-minded." If anyone is close-minded, it's Edwin. Vincent is just ... used to being surrounded by people like him. "He apologised too, when I apologised for judging him and said he should apologise to me as well. But I will talk to him. 'Always talk about your feelings'." He glances sideways at Ellen, who chuckles and swats at him with the potato in her hand.

"Exactly. I've taught you well."