In the Middle of Somewhere (21 page)

He doesn’t sound judgmental about it at all, which is pretty uncommon among professors. Most think going to community college is embarrassing. My advisor told me I shouldn’t list it on my CV.

“It did, yeah,” I say. “At CCP—the community college—people were there because they wanted to be. They were mostly older, or they were going part-time while working to pay for it. And some of the professors were really great. But a lot of the classes were easy. I mean, the English classes were good because the teachers would always talk about other books than were on the syllabus, so I could go find those and read them. But, yeah, they weren’t very challenging.

“I could only afford to take a few classes a semester, but I went during the summers too, so when I transferred to Temple to finish out my degree, I only had a year’s worth of credits left. That was all I could afford there. I mean, honestly, I wouldn’t even have done it except I knew I could never get into grad school straight from a community college, so my degree needed to be from Temple. It’s shitty, but that’s how it is.”

Jay nods, his attention intense.

“Anyway, I was really lucky because one of the professors I had for an English class was an adjunct at Temple. I would go to her office hours and we’d talk about books and stuff. She gave me a lot of good recommendations. She’s the one who told me that if I was thinking of grad school, I’d need to transfer. I really didn’t have a clue about how academia worked back then.”

“I was on the hiring committee; I’ve seen your trajectory. It’s very impressive, Daniel. Really.”

I’m embarrassed, so I change the subject. We talk about the trip to New York that Jay’s just returned from. He’s trying to get an international Latino/Latina literature and theory conference started, which sounds great, and he was schmoozing with some folks he knows. We slip into the topic of other conferences and Jay realizes that he went to grad school with one of my professors, whom I’ll see at the conference in Detroit. I swear to god, the academic world is frighteningly small.

I’m just describing my conference paper to Jay when Rex walks in and comes over to our table.

“Hi,” I say. “Sorry, am I late?” I fumble for my phone to see the time, but it’s only 8:40.

“No,” Rex says. “I was early and I saw you guys, so I thought I’d come over. That okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Rex, this is Jay Santiago. Jay, Rex Vale.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jay says, standing to offer his hand, and he seems to wince the slightest bit at Rex’s handshake. Rex nods at him.

“You too.”

We’re all standing when the check comes, so I shrug on my jacket and grab my wallet.

“I’ve got it,” Jay says.

“No,” I say. “You were doing me a favor. I’ve got it, please.”

“No, no,” Jay says. “You’re the new hire; consider it a welcome to the department.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” Jay says. “I’ve got it.” And he hands the waiter his credit card without looking at the check.

“Wow, okay, well, thanks, Jay,” I say, feeling a little awkward. “I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” he says, pulling on a black wool overcoat and leather driving gloves.

We start to walk out, Rex keeping pace with me.

“Enjoy the conference,” Jay says. “Give Wendy my regards.”

“Will do,” I say.

“And the paper sounds wonderful, Daniel, really.” He claps me on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Nice to meet you,” he says again to Rex, and Rex nods.

I
NSIDE
MY
apartment, Rex pushes me against the door and kisses me aggressively. My head bangs against the wood and Rex pulls back, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

Is he still pissed from last night? If it were Ginger I’d tease her. Say, “What, are you jealous?” But something tells me Rex wouldn’t appreciate that.

“Nothing,” he says. “Did you finish your paper?”

“I did, yeah. It all came together. You were right; it’s going to be fine.”

He smiles and looks a little sheepish.

“Listen,” he says. “I didn’t mean to be unfriendly. It was just harder than I thought to see you out with another guy.”

“Well, you weren’t so much unfriendly as you were totally menacing. And he’s not ‘another guy.’ He’s a colleague.” I pat his chest and walk to my closet, grabbing my duffel bag and starting to toss things into it.

“But he likes you,” Rex says, as if it’s a fact.

“I mean, as a friend, maybe,” I say. Wow, I guess he really is jealous. It’s not a great look on him.

“No,” Rex says. “More than a friend. I could tell by how he was looking at you.”

“And how was he looking at me?” I ask.

“Like… like he was… appreciating you,” Rex says, slowly, looking at the floor. I stop.

“I don’t even know if Jay’s gay,” I say. “I hope he isn’t, what with the easy rhyme and the cruelty of children.”

“He is,” Rex says.

“How do you know?”

“Um….”

“Oh my god, did you date him?” I ask. It would make sense. It’s not like there are that many gay guys around here. At the thought, my stomach goes all funny.

“What? No,” Rex says. “I just met him. But, when you first moved here, I overheard….”

“You overheard,” I encourage.

“Just some idiots talking about the town being overrun by gay snobs.”

I shake my head. I’m not that surprised.

“Anyway,” Rex continues, the set of his shoulders stiff, “we haven’t really talked about any of that. I mean, if you were to go out with him as more than friends, I… well, I guess that’d be your prerogative.”

“Well, I better get to be Bobby Brown and not Britney Spears,” I say, to cover the fact that my head is now spinning. He’s talking about us dating other people. How it’s okay if I date other people. Is that what he wants? Does that mean
he’s
dating other people? My stomach feels sour. The idea of Rex with someone else… it makes me feel sick, and… sad.

I walk into the bathroom, grabbing the jacket I hung on the shower door in the hopes of steaming the wrinkles out while I showered this morning. It looks passable.

Then there’s a crash from the kitchen.

Rex is kneeling next to what was—until, say, about ten seconds ago—my kitchen table.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says, standing. “Shit, Daniel, I just leaned against the thing and it totally collapsed. Sorry,” he says. But he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds embarrassed, and maybe a little pissed.

“Oh, it’s not your fault,” I assure him, walking over. “It kind of bit it the other day and I just, like, propped it back up. Haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet. I should’ve warned you.”

“Well, why didn’t you ask me to fix it for you?” Rex asks, sounding irritated.

“Um. I didn’t think about it,” I say.

“But it’s what I do for a living,” Rex says, his hands out in confusion.

“Well, okay, I’m sure you’d do a better job than me, Rex, but I’m not some pathetic idiot who can’t fix a goddamned table.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he says, sounding exasperated. “I just don’t understand why you won’t ever accept my help.”

“What are you talking about? You fixed my wall and my light—”

“That actually was my job,” he interrupts.

“You rescued me from a snowstorm. You’ve cooked me whole meals.”

“Because I wanted to! I like to cook for you.”

“You just think I can’t do simple adult things,” I mutter. I’m not sure where that came from, but I’m pretty sure I believe it. Rex’s mouth drops open and at first he looks like he’s going to shake it off. Then he looks around at my apartment and kicks at a leg of my kitchen table, splayed like a broken dancer on the floor.

“You live on coffee and bagels unless I cook for you,” he says. “Your car is a deathtrap that you’ve held together with a wire hanger. You won’t talk to your landlord about making your apartment safe to actually live in. You moved to Michigan and you don’t have a winter coat! It’s like you don’t even care about what happens to you.”

“No! You just think you need to rescue me. Even the night we met, you rescued me—me
and
Marilyn. That’s all you’ve done is rescue me, like I’m some damsel in distress. Well, I don’t need to be rescued! I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Rex growls, advancing on me. “I’m not so sure.”

“What the fuck!” My hands are fisted at my sides. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Do you know how long I’ve taken care of myself? How many times I’ve been jumped or mugged or gotten my ass kicked? And I’ve
handled
it. I’ve handled
myself
just fine. You know how many times I’ve gone to lectures for the cheese cubes and stale crackers at the reception because I can’t afford to buy food? Huh?”

I’m shouting now, so furious that Rex apparently thinks I’m just as weak and pathetic as my brothers do that my heart is pounding.

“I—I didn’t mean—”

“Anyway, if you think I’m such a pathetic fucking mess then why are you even here?” I shove Rex’s shoulder. Not hard, just in frustration, but it’s like pushing up against a mountain.

Rex freezes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, and then just shakes his head, hands on his hips.

“Have a safe trip, Daniel,” he says evenly. Then he walks out, closing the door gently behind him. His truck starts outside.

“Fuck!” I yell, punching the door. “Shit, ouch.” I always forget how much that hurts.

I turn around and lean back against the door where Rex was kissing me a few minutes ago. My kitchen looks like a crime scene. The table is slumped onto the peeling linoleum, and the light over what used to be the kitchen table is swinging a little, casting eerie shadows. My duffel bag gapes open on the bed, my jacket on the floor. The whole place looks dingy and sad. It smells like ramen noodles and Band-Aids even though I haven’t made ramen noodles lately and I couldn’t tell you the last time I actually owned a Band-Aid.

Goddammit, this is why I don’t date.

October

I
DIDN
’
T
sleep well at all last night. Rex’s face kept drifting into my head—that expression he got when I yelled at him. As if he were holding out something to share with me and I knocked it into the dirt like a bully with an ice cream cone.

I mean, is it, like, a requirement that just because he builds things professionally I’m not allowed to fix my own table? God, I can only imagine my brothers or my dad if they saw me calling my boyfriend for help because I couldn’t even fix a simple table.

Wait. Did I just think of Rex as my boyfriend? How do you know if someone’s your boyfriend? Oh Christ.
This
is why I don’t date.

I just need to have a quick meeting with a student and then I can get the hell out of here. I can’t wait to be gone. I definitely need a break. And a huge coffee.

“H
I
,” I
say to Marjorie at the counter of Sludge. “Can I get—?”

“Don’t you want to look at the board before you order?” she cuts me off, smiling a little too wide.

“Uh, no. I know what I want.”

“Come on, just a peek?” She’s twisting her hands together in a way that makes her look like a twelve-year-old girl, not a grown-ass woman.

I look at the board so she’ll leave me the hell alone.

“What am I supposed to be—oh shit.”

“Language, dear,” Marjorie giggles.

On the Specials board, in bright green chalk, it says “The Daniel: 3 shots of expresso in a large coffee.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s…. Wow. I’m honored. It’s
espresso
, though, just so you know; no
x
.”

Oh Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Ginger is going to laugh her face off when she hears this. Marjorie looks a little pissed that I pointed out the spelling mistake, but she fixes it with the chalk. Then she looks back at me.

“Well,” I say, trying to move things along. “Thanks again. So, I guess you know what I want, then.”

Marjorie still says nothing, just looks at me expectantly.

“Uh….” I smile, like maybe that’s the magic sign she’s waiting for.

“Order it!” she says.

“I… did?”

“No, order it by name.”

“You want me to order my own drink—the one you already know I want because you named it after me?”

“Well, no one
else
is ever going to order it,” she says, clearly exasperated.

“Then why did you—Oh Jesus. Okay, I would like one ‘Daniel’ to go, please.”

“Coming right up, Daniel,” Marjorie says sweetly.

J
AY
S
ANTIAGO
steps through my door just seconds after my student leaves.

“Hey, Daniel,” Jay says with a smile.

“Morning,” I say.

“You leaving soon?”

“Yep. On my way out.”

“Listen,” Jay says, sliding easily into the seat my student just vacated. “I really enjoyed our conversation last night. It was lovely getting to know you a bit better.”

“Me too, Jay. I mean, you too.”

Jay smiles warmly, then leans across the desk toward me.

“Look, Daniel, I don’t know what your situation is, but would you be interested in doing it again?”

“Again, like, dinner again?” I say stupidly.

“Yes. I wonder if you’d like to have dinner with me again. If we enjoyed one another’s company, that is, and it seems like we did.”

Oh crap, crap, crap. I can’t believe it. Rex was right.

“Like, as… friends?” I try, in a last ditch effort.

“No, as in on a date,” Jay says.

“Oh wow,” I say. “Um, well, thanks, Jay. I’m really flattered, I just—um, I’m seeing someone, though. Sorry.”

“The man I met last night?” Jay asks, seeming unperturbed.

“Yeah. Rex.” God, even saying Rex’s name almost makes me smile, even though I’m still mad at him.