Kiss and Tell 2 (3 page)

“Sounds good,” London said, grinning from ear to ear. “But I have to ask…what exactly do you have in mind? Why do
you
need a beard?”

When I decided to go over to London’s, I went there to try and talk things out with him, maybe work things out, and maybe even work out some of my frustrations. I’d had absolutely no intention of discussing my love life at large, and hadn’t even fathomed mentioning Anthony. But, clearly, things didn’t go as planned, so I decided to pull an audible, and we were now playing a very different ball game.

“I don’t know
exactly
what I have in mind,” I admitted, “but you need a beard to cover up the fact that you’re gay, and I need a beard to distract my mom and buy me some time while I figure out things in my own life. We both need the heat off of us.”

“Does this have anything to do with that old guy from last night?” London asked. He’d hit the nail on the head, but I didn’t like the way he phrased it.

“Kind of,” I said, “but it’s a long story.”

“Well, I’ve got time, if you need someone to listen,” London replied. When he said that, I realized that since I knew a big secret about him, it was probably safe to tell him my big secret—surely he wouldn’t spill my beans unless he wanted his spilt right alongside them.

“Remember that day I left with Mom, to go job hunting?” I asked. I hoped I wouldn’t have to refresh London’s memory by reminding him that that was also the day we’d hooked up.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking away from me. I could tell he made the connection.

“Well, that day, when I was applying for a job at the coffeehouse, I met a handsome, older man,” I began, and I went on to tell him every detail, no matter how intimate, of what happened between me and Anthony from that point forward.

By the time I was done recounting my story, both London and Willard were sitting there in front of me with dropped jaws, and they each remained silent.

“Hmm,” London eventually hummed, right before the silence became unsettling. “So, what? You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend so that you can secretly date your dad’s billionaire boss?”

Hearing it put that way made it sound absurd, and it wasn’t 100 percent accurate.

“I don’t know
what
I want at this point, London,” I said. “All I know right now is that I need time. I want Mom to get off of my back about finding a boyfriend—and about finding a job. Maybe if she thinks you and I are dating, she’ll leave me alone…and maybe if she leaves me alone, I’ll be able to see where things stand with Anthony.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I spent all night thinking about him last night, after the party, going back and forth about what I should do. This morning, I decided—”

I stopped myself before I admitted to London that I’d resolved to give up on Anthony and give him his second chance. I didn’t want to feel foolish for choosing a gay man over an older one.

“This morning I decided to give up on Anthony,” I went on, after taking a pause to reorganize my thoughts. “But now, maybe I don’t have to. Having you as my beard could give me a chance to see if there’s really anything between us.”

London leaned forward over his knees and contemplated what I’d just said. It looked as if he was having a hard time comprehending at least some part of it.

“I don’t get it,” London said, scratching his head like an oaf. “I’ll be your beard, no problem. But are you sure you know what
you’re
doing?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I want a chance to try and do
something
. That night, when I told Anthony that I couldn’t see him again, I only said it because I didn’t think I had any other options. If I started seeing him in any way, I knew my parents would ask what I was up to, and they’d want to know who I was dating.

“But now with this whole beard arrangement, I finally have more options. If we let our parents believe we’re dating, we can tell them we’re spending time together. But, in reality, you can be off having all the gay lovins’ you want, and I can be off doing something with Anthony, even if it’s just talking this shit through and seeing if it’s worth all the effort.”

“Do you really think he’s gonna want anything to do with you now that he knows your dad works for him, though?” London asked, asking an obvious question.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe, maybe not. But there’s definitely some type of chemistry between us. I could tell from the way we talked to each other in the kitchen last night. It’s still there. We both felt it. It really complicates things now that we know we’re connected. But that chemistry is still there, no less, and with a proper beard in place—with someone there to take the eyes off of me and Anthony—maybe we can explore it and determine, once and for all, whether it’s enough for a one-time thing, something more, or nothing.”

“Chemistry?” Willard asked. It was the first time he’d spoken up during this chapter of our conversation. “Sounds to me like you’re messing with fire…and you know what they say about messing with fire. There’s a lot of ways you can get burnt here.”

“I realize that,” I said, “but I’m tired of just sitting back and letting life happen. I’m 22, and I’ve already given in so much and let so many things pass me by. This could be a big mistake, or it could be the best decision I’ve ever made. Either way, I need time to figure it out.”

“Let’s face it,” I continued, moving closer to London and redirecting my comments to him. “At some point, you’re going to have to tell your parents you’re gay. And at some point, I’m going to have to decide exactly what to do about Anthony. Either I give up on him completely and move, now or later, or if there’s anything between us, I’ll have to have a difficult conversation with my parents, too. But until we reach that point, let’s do what we can to help each other. Let’s buy each other as much time as we can.”

“Alright,” London said, despite the way Willard was shaking his head. “Count me in.”

London and I went on to lay the groundwork for our “beard arrangement.” It was still in the beta stage, and remained a work in progress, but we’d agreed upon the essential elements. We’d both tell our parents we’d been talking and hanging out since I got back home, and we’d tell them that my parents’ party was the critical turning point, after which we started dating. From there, we’d play it all by ear.

Willard just sat back and listened while London and I went over the details. He seemed like he wasn’t into the whole thing as much as we were—but why should he be? He wasn’t getting a beard out of the deal, and every second I remained in the pool house was another second longer he had to wait until he and London could finish what they’d started before I unexpectedly showed up that morning.

When I finally decided to head back to my house, it was nearly 10 a.m., and I was almost completely sober. I knew my parents would be up and active, and as I made my way from the pool house to my kitchen door, I went over my story again and again. It’s not that the details were
that
complicated, it’s just that I wasn’t used to blatantly lying.

As soon as I walked into my house, I saw Mom and Dad sitting in the kitchen, having coffee at the table. They both looked shocked to see me, but quickly covered that shock with pleasant smiles.

“Where were you?” Mom asked in an inquisitive voice. “I thought you were still upstairs in bed, sleeping.”

“I was over at the Gallaghers’ pool house,” I said, trying to feign embarrassment. I couldn’t turn my face red, but I tried my best to look bashful. “I went over there early this morning…to hang out with London.”

“Reeeaaally?” Mom asked. The way she asked her one-word question made her one word sound like it had way more than two syllables.

“Yeah,” I said, maintaining my shy front. “We’ve been hanging out every now and then over the past couple of weeks, since I got home, and last night, something really clicked between us. I don’t know what it was…. Maybe it was seeing each other all dressed up in fancy clothes, or celebrating your union.”

The smile that flashed across Mom’s face was priceless. She was caught up in my story, hook, line, and sinker.

“So are you guys an item then?” she asked eagerly. In her mind, she was probably already planning our wedding.

“I don’t know if we’re an
item
,” I said, forcing another coy smile, “but we’re dating, and we’re gonna see how things go. He still has another year of school left and everything, so I’m not sure if he’s in it 100 percent.”

“Oh, honey!” Mom exclaimed exuberantly, as if she hadn’t even heard that last part. “This is fabulous. I knew you and London would hit it off. How exciting!” She turned to look at Dad, to share this special moment.

Dad was still just sitting there, reading the newspaper. Although he heard every word Mom had just heard, he wasn’t nearly as excited, and his response carried the conversation in a different direction.

“That boy’s a wild one, from what I’ve seen,” Dad said, countering Mom’s positive feedback. “I hope you’re being careful…and being…ah…
safe
.”

“Ew, Dad!” I shouted. I knew that “safe” comment referred to sex. Dad was being mature and realistic about it, but it still felt gross to graze the topic with him.

“Oh, Paul, Kirby is 22,” Mom said. “She and I had that talk years ago.”

“Mom!” I shouted. Sex-related comments didn’t sound any better coming from her. But at least they both were buying it all. They not only believed London and I were dating, but also believed that we were fucking.

“I’m not going to talk about
this
kinda stuff with you guys,” I asserted. Mom giggled and smiled, and Dad returned to reading his newspaper. I played my part a little while longer and fumbled through the fridge, which was filled with leftovers from the party the night before. I was pleased to see food that actually contained sugar and fat. Though, to be honest, I was a little overwhelmed by the selection.

In the end, I settled on a few slices of cheese and cured meat. I just wanted something simple, and didn’t want to deal with anything that required any type of plating or reheating.

I ate my snack while still standing, rather than sitting down and joining my parents. Really, I wanted to go straight to my room and sleep off what was left of my hangover, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well with them and figured standing there would be a good compromise.

Mom and Dad didn’t have much else to say after I told them I didn’t want to talk about sex or dating, but nonetheless, they seemed to appreciate my civility. My civility, however, only lasted for a moment. As soon as I was done eating, I wiped my dirty hands across the front of my shorts, smacked them on my ass, and told my parents I was going to go get a shower, then catch up on social networking and e-mail. They both nodded and hummed to signal their approval, while remaining preoccupied with their own business.

I’d already lied to my parents once that morning, so it really didn’t bother me that I’d just lied to them again. Although, come to think of it, maybe it should have bothered me that I was quickly becoming comfortable with lying.

In any event, instead of showering and going online, I did exactly what I’d wanted to do in the first place. I went straight to my room, crawled into my bed, shut my eyes, and tried to hide from my thoughts so that sleep could somehow find me.

Sunday is the Lord’s Day for religious folks. For my family, it was just a day of rest. We used to go to church and whatnot back in the day, but as time passed, our lives got more complicated, and we ultimately abandoned the practice, except on major Christian holidays and for major life events, like baptisms, weddings, and funerals.

So I guess the fact that it was Sunday played heavily on my parents’ minds that afternoon, because they actually allowed me to rest freely. The “little nap” I wanted to take after my snack turned out to be a six-hour snooze fest, and the sun was already a little low in the sky by the time I sat up in bed.

As soon as I sat up, I noticed my tablet. It was still sitting on my nightstand from the night before, and I decided to do part of what I’d told my parents I was going to do—catch up on my social networking and e-mail.

I logged in to my various accounts, and, as usual, there really wasn’t anything interesting waiting for me. I had a few game requests from friends, and some invites to events that weren’t anywhere near me. What few e-mails I had were mostly from stores, websites, and other group mailing lists, most of which I hadn’t knowingly signed up for.

In other words, I did not have any personal messages from my friends. Why? Well, I hate to admit it, but I really didn’t have any friends—not anymore.

One of the biggest problems with dating a guy for three years, throughout the brunt of college, is that your social circle shrinks significantly. Some girls—like me—end up spending almost all of their time with their boyfriend, at the cost of not having many other friends, and whatever “other friends” they do have are usually friends they share with their boyfriend, and they’re usually other couples.

When a couple breaks up, their friendships are like property, and they end up being divided accordingly. You can usually take with you whatever friends you came into the relationship with when you leave, but those you acquired along the way are divided by a different set of standards, or, in some instances, are allowed to choose which side to take in your battle.

When Jeremy dumped me the moment he found out he got into law school, we pretty much abided by these principles when it came to our “friends.” I didn’t come into the relationship with any, so I had none that left right along with me…and when given the choice of who to side with, those who we’d befriended together opted to go with the outgoing future lawyer rather than the somewhat backward, unemployed chick who was headed home to mooch off of her parents.

Not having friends isn’t something that’s easy to deal with, especially when it’s just another thing on the list of things you don’t have. I graduated college with no job lined up, no apartment, no plans for my future, no boyfriend...
and
no friends. That’s enough to make anyone feel like a failure, and it was enough to make me realize how much I’d really missed out on in life. Like I’d told London and Willard, I’d given in so much and let so many things pass me by.

It was time for something different.

Doing nothing had gotten me nowhere. I had nothing to show for the 22 years I’d spent on this planet. I hadn’t experienced a lot, or experienced a lot of people (and I mean that in both an innocent and a carnal sense). I wanted more. I deserved it, and owed it to myself.

My shift in thinking came before I met Anthony, and it actually had nothing to do with him. I’d decided earlier that I needed things to change, but I was kind of waiting for change to happen and didn’t do anything about it. It just so happened that Anthony was the first new face—and first new challenge—I encountered in my new mindset. The situation with him pitted me against myself and made me want to revert back to my old ways, where I’d leave well enough alone, give up, and go on.

But I didn’t want to be the girl who stood in line for 45 minutes just to chicken out and pass on the roller coaster, or the young woman who begrudgingly went to the sports bar with her boyfriend to catch the Thursday night game when she really wanted to be at home watching the season finale of her favorite reality show.

I didn’t want to be the girl I’d been so many times before. I wanted to finally go after what
I
wanted…and right now, what I wanted was Anthony.

As I’d explained to London (and to the fly on his wall, Willard), I didn’t know exactly what I expected to happen with Anthony, but I didn’t want to pass on seeing whether something could happen. Maybe I’d end up having a great one-night stand. Or maybe it’d be disappointing. Perhaps we would fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. Or perhaps we’d find that whatever we had hadn’t really been anything, that we’d been blinded by the beauty of the moment. Who knew? Not me…and I wasn’t willing to take anything for granted.

When Anthony left me in the kitchen in the party on Saturday night, he said he’d be in touch with me to discuss things further. I knew, for certain, that he’d stand by his word and contact me soon, and when he did, I planned to tell him about all of the conclusions I’d reached, my curiosities, and the desires I was having.

Yes. I knew for certain that he’d contact me soon, but I certainly didn’t expect him to contact me as soon as he did.