Femme (6 page)

“See something you like?”

I blushed and he chuckled.
Screw it
, I thought. “Yeah, I do see something I like. Something I like a lot.”

Crap. I was being stupid, worrying about the other people in the restaurant. Worrying about what they thought. I’d been out in public with guys before. Lots of times. I’d just never been out in public with someone like Lionel, someone so obviously gay. But even that shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with being gay. I really didn’t. So, if Lionel was obviously gay, that shouldn’t be a big deal.

No,
I
didn’t think there was anything wrong with being gay, but I was all too aware that other people did. Lots of other people.

Chapter Six

I was absolutely terrified we were going Dutch. I mean, Dog had made a point of saying he was “taking” me to dinner. Usually that would mean he’d be paying. Of course, for some people it might just mean they were going to drive. I didn’t know Dog well enough to be a hundred percent sure which he meant. Unfortunately, I’d barely brought enough cash for my half—I’d been expecting someplace cheaper—and even that was cash I’d set aside for my rent.

I probably shouldn’t have ordered a martini. Worse! I ordered top shelf gin. There weren’t any prices on the menu for a mixed drink, so I had to guess how much it would be. My guess was about twelve dollars. Obviously, I could only have one. Not that I
should
have more than one martini on a date, but I at least liked to have the option.

Trevin floated back with our drinks. He set a frosted mug in front of Dog and poured beer into it. I reminded myself I needed to get Dog’s last name and phone number before the evening was finished. I couldn’t go on forever calling him just Dog. I really should know if it’s Dog Smith or Dog Jones. You’re never truly intimate with a person until you know their last name.

“Would you boys like to order?”

I would have been fine just enjoying our drinks for a few minutes, but Dog jumped on the opportunity to order.

“What do you want?” he asked.

I ordered a twenty-five dollar piece of chicken. It came with a truffle cream sauce. I knew that truffles were a sort of mushroom, so basically a twenty-five dollar chicken breast with cream of mushroom soup on it. Between the entrée, the drink, tax and tip, I’d have been able to eat all week on what I, he, someone, was spending on me. Well, almost a week.

Dog ordered salmon in a fancy sauce then handed his menu to the waiter. I gave mine up as well. Trevin smiled and walked away. I took a sip of my martini. It was perfect.

Oh Gawd
, I thought,
I have to think up something to say
.

I was not fond of dating. In fact, I hadn’t done much of it. I’d had entire relationships that hadn’t included anything remotely like a date. In fact, I probably would have been more comfortable with Dog if he’d just wanted to fuck again. If he’d asked nicely once or twice, I probably would have given in. But, no, he wanted to talk to me. That seemed kind of perverted.

“So tell me about losing your virginity?” I asked. It seemed like a good date question. Not that I had time to write Miss Manners and ask.

“Boy or girl?”

“Oh Gawd! Boy! I hope you’ve blocked sex with a girl from your mind. Memories like that can be so scarring.”

“It wasn’t
that
bad,” he said.

“Obviously, it wasn’t that good either.”

“No, I guess not.”

I couldn’t help smiling at him. He was fun to tease. I hoped he didn’t mind being teased. “So, boy. Tell me.”

“I played football in high school. Linebacker. At an away game we stayed in a hotel, I shared a room with the center.”

“Football is a foreign language to me. Get to the sex.”

He blushed a bit. I like a man with good circulation.

“Um, well, we shared a room and in the middle of the night he crawled into my bed. The next day he acted like he hated my guts. It was weird.”

“Hmmmm…first of all, I’ve seen that in a porno. Second of all, you represented his forbidden desires,” I said, somewhat dramatically. “You had to be destroyed.”

“He didn’t actually—”

“Metaphorically. I bet he’s married with at least two children by now.”

“Three. The first one was senior year.”

“She’s got something to prove.”

“She? No, I was talking about—”

“I mean she in the queer he’s-a-she kind of way.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard people do that.” He frowned suggesting it wasn’t something he agreed with. “So, what about you? When did you…”

“Tenth grade. My English teacher.”

“You—that’s not, it’s not legal.”

“Oh, did you mean the first time I had legal sex?”

“No, I just, um, wow…I’m sorry about that.”

I’d gotten this reaction before. I did not enjoy it. “I was sixteen. And I seduced him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, I understand the whole consent thing. And the whole violation of trust thing. But I wanted it and I enjoyed it. I don’t like people deciding that I’m a victim. I told this one guy I was seeing and he was like, ‘Holy shit! You were raped.’ I was not raped. The age of consent in most states is actually sixteen. If I’d had sex with my English teacher in Nevada, it would have been completely legal. Just because it was illegal in California doesn’t mean I was traumatized.” I realized I was getting sort of passionate about the whole thing. “Sorry…soapbox.”

He glanced around uncomfortably to see if people were looking at us. I guess they were. Still, he was nice enough to say, “It’s okay. It happened to you. You get to decide how to feel about it.”

“Thank you.” We were quiet. Sipped our drinks.
I should probably stop telling that story
, I thought. It didn’t make for good first date conversation.

“So, boyfriends?” I asked, plunging onward.

“One. It lasted almost a year.”

I was tempted to ask what happened, but ex boyfriends were terrible first date topics, as well. Of course, then we’d be even. But there was no guarantee he’d even had a terrible breakup, so maybe we wouldn’t be even.

Before I could move on he asked, “And you? Boyfriends?”

“Depends on how we define boyfriend. A month, too many to count. Six months, zero. But, I’m only twenty-three. I’m still sowing my wild oats.” Oh Gawd, I’d just made myself sound like a committed slut. I scrambled to think of something to say that was a little bit more relationship-y. “It might be time to harvest my oats and make oatmeal.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. He had a frightened look on his face. And who can blame him? He asked about boyfriends and I talked about oatmeal. Gawd, he probably thinks I’m a freak.

Trevin brought out our dinners on an excessively large tray, set them on a stand and laid them in front of us with a bit of flare. Then he asked if we might like a glass of wine with dinner. We both shook our heads. It was tempting, but not only could I not afford a ten-dollar glass of wine, I’d already said plenty of stupid things. Alcohol only made my tendency for stupidity worse.

Dog looked like he might be sick. I wondered if he’d changed his mind about the fish.

“Excuse me,” he said, getting up and walking—not to the men’s room, which looked to be on the side of the restaurant with the kitchen—no, he walked out of the restaurant entirely. Into the building’s lobby and then out onto the street. I watched as he walked toward the parking garage where we’d left his truck.

His face turned away, as though he didn’t want to risk looking at me.

###

Lionel was saying something about oatmeal that didn’t make a lot of sense, when I looked over and saw the host seating my parents on the other side of Massie’s. I wanted to throw up. They couldn’t see me there with Lionel. I mean, I could have lied about who Lionel was, but I couldn’t think of a believable lie. I couldn’t say he was a friend; they’d grill me on why I even had a friend like Lionel. I couldn’t say he was someone I worked with; I didn’t have the sort of job where I needed to socialize with my fellow workers. I could say he was on the softball team; but they didn’t even know about the
gay
softball team. There was just no logical reason I would be with someone like Lionel…except the truth.

And they couldn’t find out the truth. It would kill my dad. So I got up, turned my face away from my parents and walked out of the restaurant.

When I got to my truck, I decided to call Lionel and try to explain. Except we’d never traded numbers. And I didn’t know his last name. None of my friends knew his full name either. They just called him the queeny waiter at The Bird, or the faggy waiter, or the girly waiter. I doubted directory assistance would be able to look him up under any of those names. I could call The Bird and ask, or I could go to his apartment and see if his last name was on the mailbox.

Except, he was going to hate me no matter what.

Crap. Abandoning him in the middle of dinner. What a shitty thing to do. What would I even say to him if I did have his phone number? I mean, when I told him I wasn’t out to my parents he hadn’t been exactly understanding. He’d made that joke about CPR. Like it would be okay to give my dad a heart attack because I could save him. It was never good to have a heart attack, and even though I knew CPR there wasn’t any guarantee I could save my dad. And what did Lionel think I was going to do, go over to my parents house with a defibrillator and say, ‘Hi, Dad, there’s something I have to tell you. Let me plug this in first.” No, the thing with Lionel was over. There wasn’t anything I could do about that. At least not at that particular moment. And probably never. Yeah, definitely never.

I started my truck and drove out of the garage.

And what were my parents doing at Massie’s? Their anniversary was a long time ago and they weren’t the kind of people who’d treat themselves to a nice dinner just because. Something must have happened. Something good.

I pressed the phone button on my steering wheel and told the system to “CALL MADISON.” I hated talking to my dashboard, but it did make more sense than scrolling through my contacts one by one. The phone rang a couple of times and my sister picked up.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Not bad. The kids are going to bed in about twenty minutes. You want to call me back then?”

“Oh that’s okay. I just have a quick question. Is something going on with mom and dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re having dinner at Massie’s. Are they celebrating something?”

“Mom got accepted at Cal State to do her master’s.” My mom was an RN at Memorial. Had been since I was a kid. She’d gotten me my first hospital job as an orderly when I was eighteen. I kind of remembered her telling me she was thinking of going back for her master’s. Which was great. For her.

“She didn’t tell you?” Maddy asked.

“Maybe.”

“Men. You never remember anything. I bet you don’t remember giving them a gift card to Massie’s either.”

“Wait? They hadn’t used that yet?” I’d given them dinner at Massie’s for their last anniversary. Eight, nine months before.

“It was about to expire.”

That meant they were at Massie’s because of me. Without even trying I’d sabotaged my own date. Great.

“What were you doing at Massie’s?”

“Oh, I wasn’t there. I mean, I was driving by and saw them going in.”

“Oh. Okay. So, you’re not going to call me back in twenty minutes.”

“That was all I needed. I mean, we can hang out on the weekend, if you want.”

“No. You’re having dinner with us tomorrow. Remember? I have a surprise for you.”

Another fix-up. That’s why I’d forgotten it. I was trying to.

“Maddy, I told you no more blind dates.”

“It’s not a date. How can it be a date with Arthur and I staring at the two of you?”

“You know I don’t like being fixed up.” We’d been round and round about this. Unfortunately, I kept losing and having to spend the occasional evening making small talk with Maddy’s co-workers, friends, and friends of friends.

“I’ve already promised,” she said. “Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock.”

And then she hung up.

Of course, I could just tell Maddy I was gay.
She
wasn’t going to have a heart attack. But I was afraid she’d tell Mom, and if they both knew, it was only a matter of time until one of them slipped and told my dad.

I was home. I parked the truck in my space and just sat for a bit. My ex-boyfriend Daniel crossed my mind. The fact that I wasn’t out to my family had been a huge deal for him. He wanted to meet them and go for holidays and do all the things we did with his family. And we did tons of things with his family, weekends in Palm Springs, Dodgers games, monthly potlucks.

So, Daniel, and his whole extended family, had a lot of trouble understanding why I wasn’t out to my family. He started a lot of sentences with, “In this day and age…” and, “This isn’t the nineteen-seventies…” It took a toll on the relationship and we finally called it quits.

Not that I thought Lionel would be any more confortable with my not being out to my family. Or out at work. No, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would put up with that. So, it was probably just as well that I’d screwed things up. I was bound to do it eventually.

Crap. I felt horrible about leaving him that way, though. That’s when I realized there was something I could do that would make it at least a little bit better.

Chapter Seven

I had absolutely no fucking idea what I was going to do. Dog had just gotten up and left. Vanished. At first, I wondered if maybe he’d left something important in his truck. Like he forgot some medication he needed to take with food. That would explain the nauseated look on his face. But when he didn’t come back after ten minutes. I said, “Fuck it,” and ate my dinner. It was a little chilled but still tasty. Not twenty-five dollars worth of tasty, but tasty.

Oh my Gawd. How would I get out of there? I had nowhere near enough money in my pocket to cover the entire dinner. And I didn’t have a credit card. I’d screwed up pretty badly with that kind of thing when I was nineteen, and twenty, and twenty-one, so my life was now on a strictly cash basis. I didn’t even have a debit card. This was going to be horrible. Really horrible.

I could call Carlos, but he didn’t have any money either. And even if he did have enough cash lying around, I’d have to pay him back immediately. Which meant I’d be short for my rent. And that was going to be a problem. The only way to pay it on time would be to open my CD, which meant I’d make absolutely no money on my tiny investment—and I’d probably end up spending more than just what I needed and never get a car—so I hated that idea.

Of course, I did know guys with money who’d give me a loan. Some I’d dated, some I hadn’t. Yet. But no matter. If I called any of them, they’d expect a little something for bailing me out. And I wasn’t in the mood for that. Something about telling Dog that I was ready for oatmeal made sowing more oats—even at a small profit—less appealing.

But that was ridiculous. What kind of person would walk out of a restaurant in the middle of a date? It felt shitty. Not so much because he’d done it to me. I knew there were assholes in the world. That lesson had been driven home a few times. No, the part that felt so shitty was that I hadn’t thought he was one of them. I thought he was a good guy. And I was wrong.

Trevin came over to the table and asked if I was finished.

“I am, thank you.” I wanted to think of a way to stall but I’d cleaned the plate so well it really didn’t even need to go through the dishwasher.

“Is your friend coming back?” he asked, far too sympathetically.

“I’m sure he is. He had to go to his truck to get something. Something important.”

“Should I take his dinner back and keep it warm?”

“Um. Not yet. He might be a little bit longer.” Or he might never come back.

“Well, would you like another martini while you wait?”

It was tempting but it wasn’t a good idea to make matters worse. When I said no Trevin offered me cappuccino.

“How about regular coffee?” I asked. That would only add three bucks to the check. Three bucks was not the end of the world. Plus I needed to stall. I needed time to think of something. Anything.

When Trevin walked away I started to do math in my head. This was rarely a good idea but I had no choice. Our drinks came to about twenty dollars. The two entrées were around sixty. That added up to eighty. Plus the three or four dollars for my coffee. And, of course, a generous tip. That put me at roughly a hundred dollars. I had fifty-six in my pocket. So, I had to find someone to borrow fifty dollars from. I’d be a hundred dollars short for my rent, but I could deal with that problem later.

Of course, the whole situation wasn’t improved by the fact that I may or may not even have a job. No, I had a job. It was Tuesday, after all. Chuckie Cooper had had two days to get me fired.
If
he were going to do it, it would have happened already. Plus Bob liked me. He wasn’t going to fire me. No matter how important Chuckie Cooper thought he was. Everything was going to be fine. I just needed to beg someone for a shift or two in order to make my rent. I might be able to pick something up in the dining room. Hell, I’d bus tables if they’d let me.

Still, I didn’t get on the phone to call around for the money I needed. I decided to give Dog a few more minutes to come back. With a really good explanation. A really amazing explanation. Like the most amazing explanation anyone had ever given to anything.

Suddenly, I had the eerie feeling I’d seen this movie before. My life had turned into some kind of cable channel thriller about a woman whose date vanishes and then when she tries to find him no one remembers seeing him. Like he never existed. Is she crazy? Or is she trapped in the middle of a conspiracy?

Trevin was back with my coffee. He set it down in front of me. Next to the coffee he set down a square plate with a creamer and bowl of sugar.

“First date?” he asked. Okay, so Trevin remembered Dog. Which meant I wasn’t in a thriller. No, I was in some stupid sitcom where the main character is constantly humiliated.

“Yeah. First and last.”

“I have to say, I have seen this happen before. Though I’ve never seen it happen to anyone as cute as you.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, smiling weakly. Being a waiter myself, I knew not to trust the flirtation. In all likelihood he was working me for a better tip. That’s what I would do. I mean, it’s almost rude not to flirt with customers.

Trevin winked and walked away.

Sipping my coffee, I tried to think what would make a good excuse for Dog’s disappearance. Looking on the bright side, he might have gotten really sick. Too sick to actually say he was sick. Hell, he could be sitting in his truck, dead. I was almost certain I could forgive him if he died. I tried to think of other situations I would find forgivable. I supposed if aliens had shone an invisible tractor beam on him and pulled him out of the restaurant as a prelude to abducting him, that would be forgivable. What else? Early onset dementia; if he suddenly forgot who I was, or better yet, who he was. Well, that would be forgivable, too. Other than those three not-very-possible possibilities I didn’t think there was any good reason to do what he’d done.

I decided it was time to bite the bullet and call Carlos to see if there was any remote possibility he could bring me fifty dollars and then drive me home so I could replace his fifty with fifty from the Häagen-Dazs container in my freezer that was not a Häagen-Dazs container but was actually my checking account.

Oh Gawd
, I thought,
What a disaster!

Just then Trevin came over and leaned over discretely. “Your friend just called. He paid the check over the phone.”

“Did he? So he’s definitely not coming back?” I’d already figured that out, but pretending surprise was not a bad idea.

“Apparently not.”

“Could you box that up?” I asked, pointing at Dog’s dinner. There was no reason to let good food go to waste. “And then, could you bring me everything on the dessert menu?”

“Everything?”

“You still have his credit card number, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. How about an aperitif?”

“How about two?”

###

My sister, her husband, Arthur, and their two toddlers live in a three-bedroom ranch in Bellflower about a twenty-minute drive from my apartment. I arrived the next night ten minutes early for dinner. I was not looking forward to the evening and was already dreaming up excuses to leave early. Headache, stomachache, mild fever. It probably wouldn’t work, since our mom was a nurse and she had her own two kids, Maddy was very suspicious of convenient illnesses.

Unfortunately, Arthur answered the door and I hadn’t had time to settle on a really good escape strategy. “Hey Dougie, come on in.”

I stepped into the house and we did the straight guy pat/punch each other in the shoulder thing. He was a pretty good guy. I’d always liked him. My sister, though, had mixed feelings. She often complained that he was too safe, too boring, too ordinary. I don’t know how she had time to think about these things. Two kids under five, a house and a husband. And she longed for excitement. I think I’d long for sleep.

Their place looked the way places looked when people had kids: clean but chaotic. Nothing stayed where it was supposed to for long. The living room was still baby-proofed, so there were plastic corners on the coffee tables, special latches on the entertainment center drawers, and interlocking plastic dividers to turn large chunks of the living room into an impromptu play pen, since actual playpens were out of fashion.

My two-and-a-half-year-old nephew Leland held up one of his books and said, “Truck.” The book was clearly about trucks. His four-year-old sister, Leanne, was sitting on the couch, dressed entirely in pink watching some kids’ show with talking ponies.

“There you are,” Maddy said. “Come into the kitchen. Jen’s here already.

Jen? Jen who? My stomach rumbled. I would have preferred to read Leland’s book about trucks to him and then watch a story about talking ponies with Leanne. But it was not to be. I walked into the large eat-in kitchen and my jaw dropped.

Standing there was my ex-fiancée, Jennifer Berri, who I hadn’t seen in probably six years and yet she somehow managed to look just the same. Tall, thin, freckled and blond.

“Hey Dougie, it’s good to see you.” She stepped over and kissed me on the cheek. Then in a low voice said, “Sorry about this. Maddy didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“It’s nice to see you.” It was awful to see her. When I broke off the engagement I’d told her I was gay. She hadn’t believed me.

“I ran into Jen at Whole Foods. I thought it would be nice if we all caught up.”

I glared at her. She was violating the unwritten rule, that if you break up with someone your family breaks up with them, too.

“Can I get you a beer, Dougie?” Maddy asked.

“Sure.”

I turned to see that Arthur hadn’t followed me into the kitchen. Instead, he was on the floor reading to his son. Lucky man.

“So, how have you been?” Jennifer asked.

“Great.”

“Maddy says you’re some kind of medical tech at Harbor?”

“Yeah.”

Handing me a PBR, Maddy was back saying, “Jen’s a pharmaceutical rep now.” Jennifer was the type they liked to hire. She’d look great in a business suit. “Her territory is the South Bay,”

I had a horrible feeling I knew where this was going.

“She was telling me about an interesting lunch she had a few months back. A doctor named Keller. Daniel Keller.” Yup, that was the place I thought this was going. My exes had met. They’ve had lunch. Crap.

Jennifer made a face. “I’m so sorry. I assumed, I mean, I always knew you and Maddy were close—” She tried to smile. “It was a relief, actually. When we broke up you said… but I didn’t believe you. I never believed you. Until I met Daniel.”

“Can we talk?” Maddy asked, nodding her head toward the door that led to the attached garage.

“We’re talking.”

“In private.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the kitchen. As I passed her Jennifer mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

Maddy closed the door to the main house and stared me down. I backed up against one of Maddy and Arthur’s matching minivans.

“You’re gay?”

“Yes.” Okay, that felt better than I thought it would. In fact, it felt pretty good. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so—

She punched me in the shoulder. “How can you be gay? You played football in high school.”

“Lots of gay guys like sports.”

“Oh I know they say things like that, I just never thought they were true. You’re really gay?”

“Yes. I’m really gay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m okay with gay people. Did you think I’d be weird about it?” She
was
being weird about it.

“I didn’t tell you because you’ll tell Mom and then she’ll slip up and tell Dad.”

“You can’t tell Dad.”

“I know that.”

“You used to date girls. Dad isn’t going to live forever. Can’t you just fudge it?”

“Do you fudge it with Arthur?”

“All the time.” Then she looked at me closely and said, “Oh my God, are you one of the ones who likes to wear leather?”

“No, I like T-shirts, beer and softball.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to think about you having all that kinky sex.”

“I don’t know that it’s all that—”

“Please, I’m married to Mr. Missionary-Position. Almost anything is kinky by comparison. I don’t want to think about you having all that kinky sex because I’ll be jealous as shit.”

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.”

She crossed her arms and asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing. We’re just going to go on like no one knows. Except, you’ll stop fixing me up with girls. Okay?”

“I hope you don’t expect me to fix you up with guys.”

“Please don’t.” I had the feeling that would be every bit as mortifying as when she fixed me up with girls.

“I don’t meet many gay guys driving the kids to preschool. Actually, I don’t meet many adults. How am I
not
going to tell Mom? She’s the only adult I talk to.”

“You have Arthur to talk to.”

“Like I said, Mom is the only adult I talk to.”

I shrugged. “Can you think of a reason to have your jaw wired shut?”

She punched me in the shoulder again.

“Don’t joke about this. Asshole.”

I was serious.