Marie Sexton - Coda 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (3 page)

“How long ago was that?”
“It ended ten years ago. Why do you ask?”

He smiled at me apologetically. “I was only making conversation, actually. But it was a terrible topic to choose, wasn’t it? I guess what I really wanted to know is, are you seeing anybody?”

“Obviously not, if I’m here with you.”

“Does that make it obvious? I have to admit, I’ve met plenty of men who felt it was acceptable to be vague about their relationship status.”
16

He had a point. “No, I’m not seeing anyone, in any capacity.” Occasionally I would go to clubs to pick somebody up, or go to the bathhouse, but I hadn’t actually dated anyone in months. “Are you?”

“I have many friends, but no commitment of any kind.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It seems that
you’re
one of those men who chooses to be vague.”

 

He smiled back, just barely. “Suffice it to say, I haven’t had dinner with anybody in a very long time.”

We were interrupted then by a familiar voice saying, “Jonathan!” I looked up to find Julia beaming down at me. Julia was my next-door neighbor. She was a few years older than me. Her husband Bill was in real estate, and Julia spent most of her days shuttling their three kids around town.

“Hey, Julia.”

She turned to Cole meaningfully. I was about to introduce them, but my phone rang again. At least with the ringer off, the only people who noticed were Cole and Julia.

It turned out Cole didn’t need me to introduce him anyway. He had already stood up from the table and was shaking her hand. I actually thought for a moment he was going to kiss it. I was on the phone with Sarah again, talking her through another software glitch, so I didn’t hear their conversation, but I watched them. Something about Cole’s manner was respectful yet still flirtatious, and Julia was eating it up.

I was just ending the call when Julia’s husband appeared. “Looks like our table is ready,” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Cole.” She looked pointedly at me. “I’ll talk to
you
later, Jonathan.”

She left and Cole sat back down, watching me with a sly smile on his face.

“What?” I asked, although I couldn’t help but smile back. “I get the feeling my ears will be burning later.”
I had to laugh. “I have a feeling you’re right.”
“How do you know her?”
17

“She’s my neighbor. She takes care of my house whenever I’m away on business. She feeds my fish and brings in my mail. And I dated her brother Tony for a couple of years before he moved to California.”

“Are you and she close?”

“I guess so. I don’t know. We have been known to drink a bottle of wine together. Or two.” He looked even more amused now, and I asked again, “
What
?”

“Nothing
really
, darling—”
“It’s
Jonathan
.”

“—I was just thinking: it’s terribly cliché, isn’t it? For a gay man to be friends with a straight woman?”

 

“Would it be
less
of a cliché if
all
of my friends were gay men?”

He smiled at me, and it was a genuine smile. For only the second time all night, I didn’t feel like he was mocking me. “I suppose you have a point.”

Next to me, my phone started buzzing again on the table. “Shit!”

“Is it always like this, darling?” he asked, and this time, the irritation in his voice was obvious.

“Not always. Just—”
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“I’m sorry. I really have to get this.” He looked away but flicked his hand at me in a way that seemed to indicate I should answer. “This is Jonathan.”

“Jonathan!” Marcus again. “That Clifton woman will be the death of me. Forget about Sunday. I want you on a plane tonight.” “Tonight? Marcus, I’ve been home for less than four hours.”

“I know that. But if she’s not taking the weekend off, neither are you. You may as well work there, where you can actually do some good.”

I counted to five, then said, “I can leave at six tomorrow morning. Will that be good enough?” Please God, just let me sleep in my own bed tonight!
18

He sighed. “It will have to be.”

“Thank you, sir.” I was already apologizing to Cole again as I hung up. “I’m really sorry—” I started to say, but then I looked over to find him pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Are you leaving?” I asked in surprise. He didn’t answer, but took four one-hundred dollar bills out of it and tucked them under the candle holder on the table between us. “You don’t have to—” I was going to say he didn’t have to pay for my dinner, and he certainly didn’t have to leave such a giant tip, but he interrupted me.

“Listen, darling, you’re completely adorable, really. But the truth is I rather like being the center of attention.
Especially
when I’m on a date.”

“You don’t have to go—”

“I’d like to try this again sometime though.” He handed me a business card. It was completely blank except for his name and a phone number. He let his hair fall in his eyes and batted his eyelashes at me. “Call me. Preferably some night when you can leave the phone
at home
.”

He walked away, and I was left to finish my dinner alone.

My phone didn’t ring once the rest of the night. It didn’t ring again until five-thirteen the next morning. I was already back at the airport.
19

Date: April 17
From: Cole
To: Jared

Oh Sweets, I have such a bone to pick with you! I called Jonathan like you suggested, and he obviously had no clue who I was. If you’re going to set me up, at least give the poor fool my name first, won’t you love? I suppose I’ll have to forgive you. I would say that you owe me, but I know your big bad boyfriend will never allow you to make it up to me properly. Such a shame, too….

So Jonathan and I met for dinner, and honey, it was a disaster. I’m quite sure that I’m not his type. And although he is terribly cute, he’s also uptight, has no sense of humor, and is completely obsessed with his career. Just for the record Sweets, those are things that should be mentioned when you’re setting up the blind date. I’m afraid I didn’t handle it well, and suffice it to say, things in Phoenix are still depressingly dry. I gave him my number, but I suspect it will be a rather cold day in hell before he calls. Good thing I’m loaded, because the way things look at the moment, I may have to fly all the way back to Paris just to get laid.

T
HE
next weekend, my father took me to a Diamondbacks game. I wasn’t much of a baseball fan, but he insisted that we go together a few times a year. We would buy overpriced hotdogs and cheap-ass, massproduced beer that still cost eight dollars a cup. My father would talk about RBIs and the batting lineup, and I would pretend to care, even though we both knew I didn’t. Likewise, I would spend half of the game fielding phone calls from my office, and he would pretend he didn’t care, even though we both knew he did. It was a ridiculous arrangement, but it kept the peace.
20

It was early in the second inning, and I had just finished a call with my boss when my dad asked suddenly, “How was your date?”

My mind was still on the phone call—Marcus had informed me I would be leaving for LA again on Monday—and my response was to ask stupidly, “My what?”

My dad gave me the
father
look—it was the same look I used to get from him when I failed to do my chores. “You know,” he said sarcastically. “
A date
: dinner, drinks, small talk. With another person.”

I hated it when I gave him an opportunity to throw my own attitude back in my face, and I knew my cheeks were turning red. “It didn’t go well.”

“Why not?”

I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. He was always scolding me for letting my work run my life. I wished I could lie. But I’d never been able to come up with untruths in a timely manner, and he would have been able to see it on my face anyway, so I braced myself and admitted the truth, although I couldn’t look him in the eyes while I did it. I looked out at the field instead. “I was getting a lot of phone calls that night, and it annoyed him. So he left.”

I expected him to start haranguing me right away, but he didn’t. He was silent, and when I looked over, I found him watching me with a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, with feigned nonchalance, because it did still bother me a little that he had walked out on me. “He wasn’t my type anyway.”

“Are you seeing anyone else?”

 

“No, not at the moment.” Not for a depressingly long time, in fact.

He was quiet for a minute, and when I looked over at him, I saw that his ghosts were with him. Not literal ghosts. Not like in the movies. These were only in his mind. But I had learned to identify when he was being haunted by his past.

I had a sister once. I had no memory of her—only hazy images 21

that I probably formed afterward by looking at her picture. She was six years old when she died, and I wasn’t even two. She drowned in our swimming pool one day while my mother and I were napping and my father was on the phone with the air conditioning company. My dad had the pool filled in after that, and anytime her name was spoken in our house, it was in hushed tones. More than thirty years later, the guilt of her death still followed him around like a shadow. It wasn’t always visible, but when the situation was right, you would see it there in his eyes.

And then there was my mother. I knew he still missed her all the time. She had died nine years earlier of pancreatic cancer. My dad and I hadn’t spoken much in the years leading up to her death. He was uncomfortable with my sexuality, and I was young and unaware of the fact that my family wouldn’t always be there. Her death hit us both hard. We realized then that, although we may not have been close, we were all each other had. That was when I left Colorado and moved back to Phoenix.

I was still waiting for him to speak. I knew he had something he wanted to say. He was just trying to decide how to say it. “Jon,” he said hesitantly, “there’s a girl at the office—”

“No.”
“I know how you feel—”
“Then why bring it up?”

“What could it hurt, Jon? You’re not seeing anybody right now. Why not meet her? Why not see where it goes?”

 

“No.”

“I just….” He trailed off, and I could see the weight of the ghosts upon him. His shoulders slumped. His face was sad. I thought maybe he was fighting back tears. “Families should grow, Jon,” he said quietly. “Not shrink.”

And that was the true heart of the matter. It wasn’t that he disapproved of me being gay. It was simply that he longed for more. He longed for the family that had been taken from him and for the grandchildren he would never have. I couldn’t blame him for that. 22

“I know, Dad,” I said softly. I looked back out at the field so he could wipe his eyes without being embarrassed.

 

We didn’t talk again until the bottom of the fifth, and although we stayed until the very end, I had no idea who won the game.

I
CARRIED
Cole’s number around with me for the next two weeks. It took me a while to admit to myself that I wanted to see him again. He was arrogant and obnoxious and flamboyant and most definitely not my type. On the other hand, he was also smart and funny and cute and undeniably intriguing. Plus, there was the simple fact that he had shown interest and I had absolutely no other prospects at the moment. In the end, I told myself that if nothing else, I really did owe him an apology.

When I called, he answered the phone in French. “
Allô
?” “Hello, Cole. It’s Jonathan.”

“Well
hello
, sugar. What a pleasant surprise. How have you been?”

For half a second, I considered reminding him of my name, but then decided against it. I had a feeling I would have to get used to the pet names. “I wanted to apologize—”

“Don’t worry about it a bit, sugar. I think it’s fair to say neither of us was on our best behavior. Just water under the bridge, really.”

“I wondered if you would like to try again.”
“I would love to. Will it be just the two of us this time?”

“I can’t
not
bring my phone. But none of my clients are in crisis mode right now, so it shouldn’t be as bad as last time.”

 

“I suppose that will have to suffice then,” he said with obvious amusement. “Were you thinking of tonight?”

 

“No. I’m actually in LA at the moment.”

 

“Well, that would make it more difficult, wouldn’t it? When do you get home?”

 

23

“Tuesday afternoon.”
“Your timing is dreadful, sugar. I leave for Paris on Wednesday.” “Really? Are you going on vacation?”

“No,” he said in an off-hand manner that made me curious. “So are we on for Tuesday then?”

“Sure.”
“What time does your flight get in?”

“At four, but I have to go straight to the office and meet with my boss. I should be home a little before six.”

 

“That’s perfect, sugar. I’ll see you then.”

“Wait—what?” But I was too slow. The line was already dead. I debated calling him back, but figured I would only end up looking like a fool.

M
Y FLIGHT
home was delayed by an hour, and I had to rush to get to my meeting with Marcus Barry on time.

Marcus was in his forties, and although I wouldn’t quite have called him a friend, he was fair and easy to work with. He was the type of man who could be expected to drop dead of a heart attack long before he reached sixty. He was overweight and overworked. He smoked too much, drank too much, and lived off of fast food. He was also incredibly successful. He reported directly to the CEO of the company, made more than five hundred thousand dollars a year, and drove a Porsche. I hoped to follow in his footsteps, minus the trans-fat and imminent cardiac arrest.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Marcus,” I said as I rushed into his office and closed the door behind me.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

“My plane was late—”

 

24

 

“I’ve been trying to call.”

“You have?” I pulled out my phone and looked at it. “Shit. I’m sorry, sir. I guess I forgot to turn it back on when I got off the plane. I was in such a hurry.”

“Never mind,” he said. “Leave it off so we’re not interrupted.” “Do you want to hear about California?”