In the Middle of Somewhere (34 page)

“So, what’s the occasion?” Leo asks.

“No occasion. He just did something nice and I want to say thank you.” Jesus, it sounds like I’m describing National Secretaries Day or something.

“That’s nice of you. What did he do?”

Leo seems to have no clue that certain things are none of his business, but the kid is growing on me, and it’s not like it’s particularly personal.

Last night, Rex came over carrying something that looked like the beautiful piece of wood I’d seen him working on in his woodshop a few days before.

“What’s this?” I asked him.

“You needed a new kitchen table,” he said. His posture was comfortable and commanding like usual, but I could see uncertainty in his face, no doubt because of my totally ungrateful response to his previous efforts regarding my table.

I took a deep breath. No one had ever
made
anything for me before, and I couldn’t even imagine how many hours it must have taken Rex to craft this piece. Rex doing that—showing up like that—was a test. Not that Rex engineered it as one; he’s not manipulative like that. But it was a test of whether or not this could be okay between us and I knew it. This was Rex showing me that he cared.

I smiled and stepped aside. Rex fitted in the legs and skimmed the wood with a tender hand. The table reminded me of him: sturdy and comfortable and welcoming.

“It’s amazing,” I said, and Rex’s smile told me I’d passed the test for sure.

So, now, here I am at Mr. Zoo’s because I wanted to get Rex a record or something to say thank you.

“He made me a new kitchen table,” I say. “Mine broke.”

“Whoa! That’s amazing.”

Yeah, it really is. Leo looks at me and then down at Emmylou and gets a weird look on his face.

“What?”

“Um, no offense or anything,” he says, “and I’m sure it’s a good album and all, but that’s kind of a lame present for someone who, like,
carved
you something out of a tree with his bare hands.”

Shit. Shit, he’s totally right.

“Sorry!” he says.

“No, you’re fucking right,” I say, letting out a breath.

“You swear a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry.” He just smiles. “So, you got any better ideas?” I ask. “And if you insinuate anything to do with sexual favors, so help me….”

“Well, what have you already done for him?”

“Done?”

“Yeah, like, what nice things, so I don’t repeat them.”

Nice things. What nice things have I done for Rex? Fuck all, that’s what. Better question: what nice things has Rex done for me? Rescued me after a car accident and given me a place to stay for the night even though I was a total stranger. Saved the dog I hit with my car. Fixed the desk in my office when he barely even knew me. Warned me about the weather. Come to pick me up in the middle of a snowstorm when my car died. Cooked for me. Taken me to dinner. Given me a massage. Gotten the Internet at his house for me even though he doesn’t use it himself. Made me a kitchen table even after I yelled at him the last time he brought it up.

And me? I took his fucking dog for a walk when he had a debilitating fucking migraine. I fucking disgust myself.

I drop my head down onto my arms on the counter and groan.

“Shit, Leo!” I say.

“What? What’s wrong?” Now I’ve scared the kid.

“What’s wrong is that I’m a shit boyfriend. Absolute shit. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no fucking clue.”

Leo is wide-eyed, staring at me with his mouth half open. God knows why he liked me in the first place, but whatever hero worship he had is, I’m sure, dying a writhing death on the counter between us as we speak. I’m a grown man and I have no idea how to date someone. No idea at all.

“Um,” Leo starts, with a mommy-and-daddy-are-fighting expression. “Well, my sister always says she’ll forgive a guy anything if he buys her flowers.”

“Uh-huh, and how old is your sister?”

“Sixteen.”

“Yeah. Well, you should tell your sister that’s a crap policy.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you take him on a really nice date? My sister says—”

“No offense, Leo, but I’m going to go ahead and say I don’t care what your little sister thinks about dating.”

“No, no, this is a good one. She says a well-conceived date shows that you pay attention to the person. That you know what they like to do and you want to show them a good time.”

That makes sense. I was probably supposed to ask Rex out on a date after he took me to dinner, so things were equal. I’ve never asked someone on a date before. Never planned one. But I know what Rex likes. Old movies and good food. This will be fine.

“Right, okay.” I tell Leo. “A date. I can do that.”

But he doesn’t look totally convinced.

O
N
F
RIDAY
,
I pick Rex up at his house because it seems a date-like thing to do. He looks amazing in tight black jeans that mold to his muscular thighs and round ass and one of those thick oatmeal-colored sweaters that I associate with ski lodges and Irish whiskey ads. The thick sweater makes him look even larger than usual, like if he held me I’d be warm and safe forever.

“Wow,” I say. “You look amazing.”

Rex’s smile is brilliant. Against the light sweater, his skin looks tan and luminous, his reddish brown stubble darker than usual. His hair falls in his face as he leans down to kiss me and I can’t help but push one hand into the soft strands and pull him closer with the other, feeling the incredible warmth he always gives off. Now there’s a light scent of wool and cedar added to his usual pine and wood smoke smell.

“You wouldn’t say where we were going,” he says, “so I went with something versatile.”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing too exciting, so—”

“I don’t care what we do,” Rex says, elbowing me gently like I should know better.

“No, I know. I just wanted to take you out on a real date. I’ve never really done that before. Anyway, should we go?”

I’m actually really pleased with myself for finding anything to do in this town that Rex might like. I’m taking Rex to dinner and then to see
The Phantom of Liberty
, which, according to the chair of my department, is a classic of Surrealist French cinema from the 1970s, and he can’t believe I didn’t know that there’s a film series on campus. I figure with his love for classic movies, Rex will be totally into it, and since it’s French, he’s less likely to have already seen it.

Rex is in a great mood. At dinner, in a cozy round booth, Rex tells me about custom furniture pieces he’s seen that he’d like to try making and teases me about things he’s heard people saying about me around town. Apparently, Carrie and Naomi, the high-school-age waiters at the diner, talk about my clothes, my hair, and—Rex elbows me—how cute I am. I get the feeling that, since Rex barely talks to anyone when he’s out, he overhears a lot. Probably even a lot that he isn’t telling me.

When I tell him about Marjorie and The Daniel, he lets out a low, rolling laugh I haven’t heard before.

As we’re eating our entrées, Rex says, “How much of you asking me on a date is because of Will?” He doesn’t sound mad or disappointed or anything, just curious.

“What? None of it.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not judging. God knows I got jealous enough of that guy Jay, even if he wasn’t actually after you.”

I squirm.

“Oh, um, well, you were right, it turns out. About Jay. I forgot to tell you before because of Will showing up, but he sort of asked me out on Friday, before I left for Detroit. Last Friday, I mean.”

“What did you say?” Rex asks evenly.

“I said no,” I say, studying his face for a reaction. But he looks as calm as ever.

“How come?”

His voice is casual but his expression is intense. Like he’s trying very hard not to lead me in answering.

“I—because I… we—I guess I thought we—I mean, I don’t know… maybe we’re not….”

“You said no because we’re dating?”

I wouldn’t have necessarily put it like that.
Rex is not Richard
, I repeat over and over in my head, as if Ginger were yelling it at me. I nod miserably, but a warm smile spreads across his face.

Rex speaks slowly, like he’s considering his words very carefully.

“Because you don’t want to date anyone else? Or you do, but you’re just not interested in Jay?”

I grab my wine and swallow a few gulps.

“Both. I mean, no. The first one. And I’m not interested in Jay. But, I mean, you can—date other people. Like, because we haven’t had that conversation, I know.”

“I think we’re having it right now,” Rex says. He scoots closer to me in the booth, so our knees are touching. I look down at his thighs, let them take over my whole field of vision. There is no conversation. There is nothing but Rex’s powerful thighs.

“I don’t want to date anyone else, Daniel,” Rex says. His voice is low and possessive, his hand covering my thigh. My head jerks up. He’s looking at me tenderly and my heart starts to pound. I swallow again, my throat dry.

“Neither do I.” It comes out like a whisper.

“Lucky me,” Rex drawls, smiling.

I grin at him and start to laugh, totally relieved.

After that, we don’t have time for dessert if I want to get us to the movie in time, so Rex says we’ll go back to his house later and he’ll show me how to bake something. Just the idea of watching his big hands and powerful body as he bakes sends a flush of arousal through me. I picture him peeling off that heavy sweater and doing it shirtless in those tight jeans.

Rex throws an easy arm over my shoulder as we walk to the movie, pulling me into his warmth. Suddenly, I can’t believe that this is my life. I have a… there’s no other word for it: boyfriend. I have a boyfriend and we’re out on a date, and he has his arm around my shoulder. I don’t even have a frame of reference for this feeling.

The theater is in the basement of a building on campus that I’ve never been in before.

“It’s an old movie from the seventies. A film series,” I tell Rex as we walk downstairs. As soon as the words are out of my mouth all the stupid self-satisfaction I felt at picking something Rex would like fades away. It’s just a movie. And we went to dinner. I took Rex to dinner and a movie. It’s literally the most clichéd date of all time. “I just thought you might like it,” I finish lamely.

Rex just smiles at me. A soft, intimate smile. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me in.

“Thank you,” he says softly, and kisses my ear.

Oh. Well, that’s okay, then.

Once we’re seated, Rex takes my hand. There are only about ten people here and I’m relieved to see that none of them are my students.

“Am I allowed to know what movie it is?” Rex asks.

“
The Phantom of Liberty
,” I say. “Have you seen it?”

He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair.

“Thank you for tonight.”

“It’s kind of the least I can do,” I say. “I mean, you carved me something out of a tree with your bare hands.”

“Not really,” Rex says with a warm smile.

“Seriously, Rex. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you before. I just, you know, I’ve
never
asked someone out on a date before. I mean, obviously, I know that’s what you’re supposed to do, but it’s never been part of my life at all, so.”

“I know that,” he says, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. “There are no rules for relationships, Daniel. There’s no one way things are supposed to go. You know that, right?”

I nod. But… aren’t there? I mean, not like Leo’s sister’s dumb kind of rules, but aren’t there things you’re supposed to do, like take your boyfriend out to dinner? There’s that word again.

“None?” I ask.

Rex looks at me intently and I can see him really thinking about it. He shrugs.

“If you care about someone then you look out for them, right? You’re careful with them. But it’s the same as with friends or family. Those are just people rules, though. There are no rules for me, no. I mean, no rules like: you have to buy me flowers or cook me breakfast in bed. No greeting card rules.”

“Fuck!” I say exaggeratedly. “Was I supposed to bring you flowers?”

Rex smirks and puts his hand on my thigh. He touches me all the time. It’s almost like he doesn’t notice it. Like I’m just an extension of his body and so of course he would touch me. But, no, that makes it sound thoughtless. It’s like when I’m near him he decides that it’s his right to touch me. It makes me feel so connected to him. At first, every time we touched I wondered if it might be the last time. I felt greedy about those touches because I wasn’t sure when the next one was coming. Now, it’s like whenever he’s touching me he’s telling me that I’m his. That he’s taking me on as something within his purview.

“We can make our own rules, cowboy,” he drawls as the lights dim.

I laugh at the French translation of the title,
Le Fantôme de la liberté
, realizing it’s a play on the line, “a spectre is haunting Europe—the spectre of communism,” from
The Communist Manifesto
,
fantôme
being the French for spectre. That makes me start thinking about the chapter I’ve been working on and I make an effort to clear my mind so I can pay attention. There may not be greeting card rules to dating Rex, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be writing your book in your head while you’re on a date.

The movie begins and Rex’s hand tightens on my thigh. I glance at him and see that his jaw’s clenched.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he says, and pats my leg.

The movie is definitely weird, but it’s interesting. I have no background in film. Like I told Rex, I never even watched many popular movies as a kid. Superheroes and some horror movies and that’s about it. But I’m glad Rex likes them because I’ll be happy to get an unofficial education.

After a half hour or so, I notice Rex glancing over at me more and more often. At first it was sweet; he seemed like he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Now, though, it seems like he may just hate the movie.