A Kind of Romance (13 page)

“Uh.” Benny opened his mouth and then closed it like a fish out of water.

I chuckled softly and moved a little closer. It seemed silly to deny the obvious. I wanted him. Maybe I’d been thinking about this the wrong way. Why couldn’t we fool around? We didn’t have to pretend there was any chance of forever. We were too different to even entertain the possibility. However, we were grown men. A consensual arrangement of some sort might be a good idea, I mused.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” I pointed toward my Dad, who was still engaged in conversation near the front of the store. “He’s gonna grill me for details about bowling and—”

“Are you going to tell him I kicked your ass?”

“Most definitely not. He won’t really want to know anything more than when I’m seeing you next. So….”

“So you’re asking me out for your dad’s sake? Or because you want to finger my—”

“Hey now! Keep it clean, mister. This is a family joint. Watch your fuckin’ language.”

Benny busted up laughing. “Oops. Sorry. I’m working tonight.”

“Oh. How about tomorrow night?”

“I’m busy, but we could always meet for coffee.”

“Huh?”

Whoa. There’s no way I was the only one feeling this incredible electric vibe. How did we go from nearly fucking in the backseat of my car to setting an innocent date to meet for coffee? Was this a subtle way of letting me know
he
wasn’t interested? I couldn’t explain my genius idea about exploring mutual physical attraction with my father standing a few feet away. But I’d been pretty sure until a second ago Benny would agree it was brilliant.

He smiled and glanced toward the growing line of customers. “I’m free Sunday or—”

“Wait! What
are
you doing tomorrow night?”

“I have a date.”

“A what?”

“You heard me. A date.”

“With who?”

“A guy I used to go to school with. His name’s Eric. It was kind of random but he’s sweet and—”

“Hang on. Why didn’t you mention this the other night when we—?”

“Shh!”

I scowled, and though I knew it was ridiculous, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Did you dye your hair back to normal for him?”

“Normal?” His steely tone combined with a scathing head-to-toe once-over told me I’d taken a wrong turn.

“You know what I mean,” I huffed, pushing my right hand through my hair in frustration. What the hell was I doing?

“Unfortunately, I do. Let me assure you, Mr. Gulden… if a guy isn’t man enough to deal with a little color, then he isn’t man enough for me.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I furrowed my brow and pursed my lips thoughtfully. “Where are you going? Bowling?”

Benny gave me a funny look but then shook his head. “I doubt it. We’ll probably just grab a drink at Gypsy. He mentioned he liked that bar. I don’t know him very well but—”

“Then why are you going out with him?”

“That is the point of a date, moron. To get to know someone. Geesh! What’s the matter with you? You sound jealous.” He glowered.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I snorted in disbelief and started to turn for the door. “Why Gypsy? That place is so—” My forehead wrinkled in distaste as I searched for the proper word. “—schmaltzy.”

“You aren’t going, so it shouldn’t matter to you.” He waited half a beat, then cocked his head and asked, “Are we having coffee or not?”

“Sure.” I tried for nonchalant, but Benny was right. I did sound jealous.

“I’ll see you at the Starbucks on Houston Sunday at ten.” He squeezed my hand absently before stepping behind the counter to greet a customer.

I shouldn’t have been surprised by my acute sense of awareness at the slightest bit of contact, but I was. And I didn’t get it. I moved toward the door, thinking my best bet was to head back to the office and bury my head in high finance.

Dad waved good-bye to one of his regulars and then turned to me with a bright smile. “Are you off to work?”

“Yeah, I just came by to see how you’re doing.”

He winked and gave me an indulgent grin to let me know he wasn’t fooled. “I have something to show you before you go. I found some old photos to add to the collage wall. There’s a terrific one of you and your mother. Come with me.”

I closed my eyes briefly. This harmless detour had spiraled into a seriously bad idea. A sure sign I’d been thinking with my dick, I mused as I followed my father down the short hall behind the counter to the break room. He grabbed his blue jacket from a hook and rummaged through the pockets.

“It’s in here somewhere. I think it’s important to keep the pictures fresh. Sprinkle in the old with the new. Benjamin said he didn’t mind sprucing the wall up a bit and—ah! Here they are!” he exclaimed, waving a plain white envelope over his head excitedly.

A wary sense of foreboding made me hesitate. I didn’t want to look at old family photos. I hated sentimental bullshit at the best of times, but on a morning when everything felt off kilter, I knew a few innocent pictures could potentially ruin my whole fucking day. Dad seemed perfectly oblivious. As I opened the envelope, I listened with half an ear to his happy recounting of his first full week back to work.

There were ten or so photos from about fifteen years ago. The first few were of my brothers and me in our Bowery Bagel shirts with our arms slung over each other’s shoulders, hamming it up with big, toothy grins. We looked so young. Carefree. I flipped through them quickly. Most of them were of the four of us, and a few were with long-standing customers. They were sweet. Harmless even. But the last one almost brought me to my knees.

I took a seat at the small, round table and stared at an old photo of my mom and me. We were standing in front of the store counter. She had a huge smile and was hugging me tightly around my waist. I traced her dark hair in the picture and marveled at how tiny she seemed next to my adolescent self. The photo captured an everyday moment. Nothing special had happened. No particular occasion had been commemorated. It was a spontaneous pose on an ordinary day. A throwaway fragment of time. The kind you’d give your left nut to get back if you had the chance. One more smile. One more embrace. One more word.

I set the photo aside and took a deep breath, willing the sting of tears to subside so I could return to some semblance of normal. I couldn’t help thinking it was somewhat ironic that Benny hated that word while I clung to it with an almost desperate fervor. I stood abruptly and paced toward the sink to wash my hands.

Normal was balance. It was peace in a storm. It was the measure of justice that didn’t require a revolution. It was simply what was supposed to be. I craved normality. However, my turbulent mind buzzed with the realization that my definition might be out of date and out of whack. I had a premonition it was about to be tested. Again. A photo of my mother and me at one of the bumpier times in my life was a strong reminder that change was the only constant. And it was incompatible to any notion of normal. On the surface the harmless photo was of a doting mother and her gawky teenage son. I couldn’t look at the picture without remembering how fucking afraid I’d been back then. Every day. I may have towered above my tiny mother in height, but I was the one leaning on her. Her sunny smile and encouraging countenance made survival possible.

“What’s wrong, Ezekiel? I thought you might like these.” Dad picked up the envelope from the table and smiled kindly.

“I do. I—it’s just weird.” I cleared my throat as I reached in my pocket for my cell. It was time to return to reality. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you later, Pops.”

“All right. Did you have a nice chat with Benjamin?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

“When will you see him again?”

“Dad…. Look, don’t get excited about Benny and me. We went out and it was nice, but he has a date tomorrow and—”

“With another man?” Pop’s incredulous expression made me smile and went a long way toward dispelling my melancholy mood. He had the ability to make his jaw drop in a way that made the tired turn of phrase come to life.

I shrugged and glanced distractedly at my phone. I had enough time to get back to the office to prepare for my next round of conference calls. I began typing a quick text to Gina, only to have my father smack my hand and yank my cell away.

“What are you doing?”

“What are
you
doing? That’s the question!” he yelled before shoving my phone back at me and throwing his hands in the air. “You’re wasting time. Don’t you see? Benjamin is the one! I can see it plain as the nose on your face. Why can’t you?”

It was my turn to stare at him incredulously. “Because that’s crazy talk! I like Benny, but come on! I barely know him and—”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know him. You know. And don’t tell me you don’t like him. I can tell. I’m old, but I’m not blind!”

I averted my gaze before rolling my eyes, knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to smack me upside the head if he thought I was being disrespectful. I glanced back at him and pasted a plastic smile on my face before trying to figure out which line of insanity I should cross first. The one about Benny being “the one,” or the insinuation I was a moron for not catching on after two measly dates that my formerly homophobic father might know what he was talking about.

After brief consideration, I took the coward’s way out.

“I’m seeing him for coffee Sunday morning.”

“Good! Ask him out again. And do something nice for him. Flowers or something. Is that okay to do—you know?”

I blew out a stream of air and shook my head in a combination of defeat and ire. “Yeah, Dad. It’s okay to for a man to buy flowers for another man. But just like with a guy and a girl… it isn’t always appropriate. Sometimes it’s just plain awkward. This would be one of those times because… and please listen here…. Benny and I aren’t going to be more than friends.”

He stared at me for a long moment before reaching over to smack me upside the head.

“What the heck?” I rubbed at my head theatrically like I had when I was a kid hoping my mom would enter the room at any second to defend me.

“I didn’t raise a fool. Don’t act like one.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. I heaved an exasperated sigh and turned to leave. It was time to get back to my version of normal.

CARTER AND
I agreed to meet at Shaughnessy’s in Greenwich Village the following night. Shaughnessy’s was a gay-friendly sports bar that catered to anyone interested in watching a game or ten on the endless ribbon of flat-screen televisions placed strategically above the bar and throughout the large space. The ultramodern tube pendant lighting and lovingly framed portraits of sports greats were nice, but they gave an aura of sophistication that robbed the bar of its claim of being an authentic Irish pub. I was no designer, but the previous green billiard pendant lights and the haphazardly hung posters and sports memorabilia had screamed legit.

It was a Saturday night in late spring. Pro basketball and baseball games were being simultaneously televised, and the eye candy was off the charts. Surely there was more than enough stimuli here to keep my mind off my troubles. I took a quick glance around me from my perch at the sleek wood bar and quickly looked away from the tall, dark, handsome man standing near the end. I couldn’t even pretend to be interested. Add that to the list of weird.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh? Nothing. Just watchin’ the game.”

Carter cocked his head curiously. “No, you’re watching the door. You’re ready to go and we’re only one beer into the night. Why are we here?”

“You like it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t suggest it. What’s up?”

I shook my head and started to deny my head was elsewhere, but something stopped me. I felt more tired and worn-out than usual. Sure, it had been a long, grueling week, but my exhaustion was compounded with a heaviness I couldn’t shake. I filled Carter in on my week, including my run-in with Clay Brenner at the bowling alley and his visit to my office the next morning.

“Poor Zeke. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”

Carter studied me over the rim of his beer mug and then raised one brow and took a sip. He looked good, but then again, he always did. He was wearing a short-sleeved designer shirt that made his blue eyes pop. It had been years since we’d been a couple, but every once in a while I felt a pang of longing for what might have been. Carter and I were easy friends, but being in a relationship had been taxing. We’d never have been able to hang out sipping beers now if we’d stayed together any longer than we had. Maybe being with an old friend who was a former lover made me realize what I really wanted was both. A lover I considered a friend. Something like what my parents had had. Maybe I’d eventually meet that guy, but I knew without a doubt, it wasn’t Benny.

The second his name popped into my head, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’d vowed to move on and treat this weirdass week like the anomaly it surely was, but I was having a harder time maintaining perspective than usual.

“George is right about Benny. You like him. And you’re jealous.”

I turned on my barstool and took a deep breath, preparing to blast him with the twenty ways he seemed to purposefully be missing the point. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The simple truth was I did like Benny, and yeah, I was irked he was going out with someone else tonight. Stupid.

I shrugged instead and turned back to face the bar. “Maybe.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

I gave Carter a sideways eye roll. “Get drunk? I don’t know why I’m being so weird about this. Between Benny, my old man, my ex, and his married lover… I’m going fucking nuts.”

“Leave your idiot ex and his loser lover out of it. They aren’t your business anymore. And do yourself a favor… stop worrying about what your dad thinks. Do what makes you happy. You’re quick to say other people’s opinions don’t matter, but actions speak louder than words, Zeke.”

“Are you saying I’m spineless?”

“Hardly. I’m saying you have a tendency to fight the wrong battles. Your dad, your ex… forget about them. If you weren’t sitting here with me drinking overpriced beer, where would you be?”