The First Day
He was blond. Stocky, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He wore a thin grey shirt, a nametag that read ‘Cliff’, and black track pants. He stared intently into his computer screen as he looked up a customer’s information. I walked closer to the reception desk, and scanned the bar code on my membership card. With a beep, his eyes met mine. Luke warm blue, and bewilderingly deep. He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Then it was back to the computer screen, and I was on my way downstairs into the locker room. Another dreary encounter with a stranger, the type that seemed to become only more dreary as they became commonplace. A gay boy. A closet case. I admired men from afar, would look, but dare not touch. Sick of hiding, but even sicker at the thought of people finding out. A locked vault case, for now
I’d been trying to get myself into shape for a new role that I had accepted at a major theatre company in town, La Grande Geste. I wasn’t the most physically intimidating twenty year old in town at six feet, 160 pounds, but I kept fit. Now, I would need to begin gaining real muscle mass, instead of sticking to the cardio that I’d learned to love. I went to the gym late at night, about an hour before closing, because the other stragglers that were around were either old men, or young women in college; neither of whom cared to glance at how much weight I was actually able to lift. I would keep up this routine until I was able to lift at least double what I could now. Then it would be appropriate to show off in front of other guys my age.
I changed, and then returned upstairs, passing by the front desk again. He was gone. Cardio was cut in half, because my stomach hurt, so I moved on to legs, abs, chest, and finally arms. Tonight, there was nobody in the gym. All three televisions were on, but silent, and the radio played songs from the 90’s. I was lifting more than I probably should have been when I heard his voice, gently resonant and far reaching—
Do you need a spot?
I managed a grunt as the weight heaved on my chest. He was suddenly above me, lifting the bar off of my chest, helping, but not finishing the set for me, his arms flexing, his mouth grinning. Blonde hair swept messily over his forehead. The bar was back on the stand, and I sat up.
Thanks.
You sure you can handle that much?
I thought so, I laughed. I’m trying to gain some amount of muscle mass.
Go with lighter weight. I don’t even go with this much, but if you do 20 reps instead of 10, you’ll get more growth.
Oh. Okay, sounds good. Thanks again.
No problem.
He turned and began to clean the window.
How long are you guys open until?
He turned to face me again, and paused.
Um. Eleven. So take your time.
Oh okay, great.
I was done my workout, but something made me stay. It was another chance encounter with a stranger, but I was sick of chance encounters. This became what I could make it, and I felt determined to make it the best it could be. I made my way to the sitting bike, and started pedalling. I kept an eye on him as he cleaned the window, and eventually caught his glance in the reflection of the window. He stopped, and stepped towards me on the bike.
So, I recognize you from school.
Oh yeah? I answered.
Yeah, are you an engineering major?
Nope, taking political science and theatre right now.
Oh, well that makes sense, I think I have some classes in the West building.
Cool.
We began to talk about school, non-stop. I pedalled the whole time, but could barely pay attention to how my legs felt, my eyes glued to him, and my nervous focus on what to say next. But my nervousness faded immediately as our conversation began to flow. We traded stories about work, school, and family, realizing that we had a couple mutual friends, and we both played basketball when we could. It felt as though we’d known each other forever, innately comfortable and at once intimate. He began to tell me about his father.
He’s a jackass, actually. He owns this business down town, Agrimax? You probably haven’t heard of it. They do farming equipment and stuff. He keeps pushing for me to work for him. Which is ridiculous, really. He wasn’t there for me, ever. We barely talked while I was growing up. He would miss dinners and stuff, when my mom would have everything ready for him. It was just…inconsiderate. Most boys want to grow up to be just like their fathers, but it would kill me to know that a part of me is even similar to that man. I feel like I’m working harder and harder to not become like him as I grow up. But something about it seems inevitable to me. I mean, I’m an engineering major. That was his choice, he’s paying for it. It sucks.
He choked on these last words.
Sorry, I’m probably putting you to sleep with these stupid stories.
No…no not at all. I’m actually kind of in the same boat, really.
Oh yeah?
Yeah, I guess.
The timer on my bike went off, and I slowed my pedalling. We nodded goodbye to one another, as he made his way out of the room and back towards reception. I went downstairs, changed, and soon returned to the front desk where he was wiping down the front counters.
Well I’ll see you later. Thanks for your help again.
Hey no problem. Listen, did you want to play basketball sometime, maybe?
Yeah, that would be great. Here, let me give you my number.
He pulled out a piece of paper, and we exchanged phone numbers, agreeing to meet the next day and play basketball. A new friend if nothing else. With another smile, I left out the front doors, turning back once I was outside in the darkness, to see him one last time. A part of me felt like I was setting myself up for more failure, another crush that I would do nothing about, that would end up passing, and with it the friendship. I wanted to keep myself separated from this man, but something about him kept me drawn in. I watched him through the glass as he fumbled around with something in a drawer, finishing his closing duties. This burly man, definitively straight, making me fall for him with his every move. My eyes pulled away, and a sign on the door caught my eye. The hours to the gym. Tonight, it closed at 10:00, the reason nobody had come in for so long. I looked back at him, now at the computer, frantically rushing to shut everything down so his boss wouldn’t know that he kept the place open another hour. I smiled all the way home, heavily breathing myself to sleep in anticipation of seeing him the next day.
The Second Day
He called me. Hot sun blazed down on the court. It was hidden behind a local High School, which was recently empty for summer. The school backed onto an enormous park, with paths that weaved around a lake in the middle, trees everywhere that provided some shade from the stark light. I went to this court as often as I could, because it was always empty, and allowed me to be what I wanted to be; a man. I would play at regular courts, but I didn’t have a group of friends that played. The University athletes were a click, unbreakable and intimidating. Here I was the strongest. I wasn’t the gay guy playing basketball, I was the man shooting hoops. Nowhere else could I feel more included. Nobody had been to this court with me before. Until today.
He wore a white t-shirt, and blue shorts with two white stripes down the side, black sneakers. His hair was a perfect mess again, somehow arranged. He strode towards me from his parked car at the High School lot. He was smiling as he waved to me, getting ever closer. I smiled back,
You found it okay?
It took a few tries! Sorry I’m late.
Don’t worry about it.
I bounced the ball a couple times, then passed it to him.
Shall we?
Of course, he responded. Stakes?
Stakes?
Well we can’t play one on one for nothing.
Alright…loser buys the winner a drink after.
Sounds like a plan.
Check.
He passed me the ball with force. But I caught it firmly against my chest, smiling, and passed it back.
Check.
We played for twenty minutes in the glow of the ever persistent sun. We were pretty evenly matched, point for point. We weaved into one another as we swept down the paved court, like a dance. As time passed we grew more comfortable playing with the other, a mix of competition and passionate energy jolting between us as we defended against the other. It felt endlessly good to compete with him. I imagined him winning as we played, and felt the same endless happiness for his triumph. Blissfully we played on.
Sweat began to mark both of our shirts down the back, as we slipped them off and over our heads to continue playing. His chest was well powerfully well defined, and his abdominal muscles were gently shaped on his torso. Two lines ran symmetrically down from the top of his hips, in towards the line of his shorts. A black underwear band with white writing. Our play slowed, as he took a final free throw at the net, narrowly missing, and running his fingers back through his sweat tipped hair. He smiled in exhaustion, then breathlessly—
Well, your game.
Not really…I think we stopped counting about half way through.
Well you deserve the drink. You held your own out there!
You say that as though you’re surprised, I smiled and tossed him his shirt.
The sun was beginning to go down, and his eyes looked up at the sky.
Well it’s getting dark. Where did you want to grab a drink?
Done, I’ll just put the ball in my car.
We proceeded to pick a path towards the lake, and strolled down it as we talked, covering what seemed to be every topic we hadn’t covered the earlier day, but somehow never a moment of silence.
So do you cook? I asked.
Actually, I do. Before my father decided that I was going to be an engineer, I was enrolled in culinary school in Hennington.
But?
But…he decided that since he was paying, he got to choose…and the rest is history. I stayed in this shit town.
Well, it’s not that bad.
Nah you’re right. It’s not. Everything happens for a reason.
He smiled, looked away. Dashing.
So if you didn’t go to culinary school, how do you know how to cook?
y friend Sal is a Chef at Dante’s, and I used to work nights there my first semester. Mostly Italian stuff.
I love Italian!
Our talked continued, like best friends, brothers. I’d never had one, but I felt like if I did, he would be it. As familial as our relationship felt, I also still felt the ever-present lurking of sexual desire for Cliff. We got sodas at Lakeside, and found a bench near the lake where we sat and stared out at the water, the sun now almost set in the distance. I glanced up at him from where we sat, as he talked about his classes. Something about his eyes, a softness, drew me in like nobody had before. I couldn’t blink, for fear of missing an insignificant nuance of his expression. Insignificant for anyone else, but riddled with meaning for me. He caught me looking, and I laughed away, my eyes back to the water. And then finally and unmistakably…silence. He breathed a sigh.
I felt his pinky touch mine on the bench, and I looked down to my right. He was looking out at the water, his hand inching its way closer to mine. He lifted it, and placed it on top of mine, clasping it gently in his. His hand was bigger than mine, his fingers soft and powerful. His skin was warmth that spread through my arm. My eyes remained glued to our hands, as my heart raced. His right hand rose up and gently touched my chin, raising my head, my eyes meeting his now turned to face me. Our lips met, gently pressing against each other, his warmth on my face, a comfort in my soul. My eyes closed, and I gave myself up to this man. The kiss broke.
What are you doing? I asked.
Have dinner with me. Tomorrow.
Okay.
We made plans silently on the bench, and eventually walked back to the car, continuing conversation, both acutely aware of what had happened, and both very at ease with it. Tomorrow, at Crown Lounge, the most upper class restaurant on this side of town, eight o’clock.
I got into my vehicle, my head spinning with a frenzied passion that was foreign, and welcome. I drove home, looking at the clock, counting hours, counting minutes. I’d taken a jump, and the fall felt amazing.
The Third Day
I did laundry that day, to make sure that I had my best clothes on for him. Anything to impress. I don’t iron, but that day I ironed my grey pinstripe slacks. I also ironed my black sweater, and white button-down shirt. Cologne, deodorant, aftershave, gel. It seemed that there weren’t enough hours in the day to make myself good enough for him. Something deep inside me longed to see him smile. Longed for his brotherly approval.
]I drove to the restaurant, careful not to be early. I’d dated before, but it was always a girl, and I was always to some degree aware that it would end the same way; “This isn’t working…I don’t know what I’m looking for…I still want to be your friend.” Somehow “I’m gay”, didn’t seem to cut it with girls. I couldn’t believe that I was nervous. Three times with this man, and when we were together all nerves were lost. But the lead up to that moment, when I’d forgotten the softness of his eyes, the welcome in his voice, I was a bundle of wires. The front door of the restaurant was heavy as I pulled it open, a waterfall at the front of the building, a maître D at a desk, smiling patiently.
Can I help you?
Yes. I’m here to meet someone…Clifford? It should be under his name.
Oh…yes he’s arrived. This way.
I smiled at him, checking my hair in a mirror we passed, fixing my collar under my sweater. I was proud of how I’d looked, and excited to see him. And there he was, at a table, immaculate with his messy hair and tailored dark green dress shirt. And a girl.
She sat across from him at a table for two. I checked the table, slowing my walk as the waiter carried on. Two place settings. She had wine, he had water. My eyes caught his, and I saw his eyes widen, and hold my stare for a moment too long. A panic in his face that I hadn’t seen, his teeth clenched. A cold, unfeeling presence in his eyes. His eyes returned to the girl, trying to cover his panic. I choked a breath—
Wait.
The maître D stopped, and turned back to me. A few yards from the table.
Yes sir?
I must be early. I don’t see who I’m supposed to meet.
Are you sure, sir? The table for—
Yes. I’m sure. I’ll just…go outside. And wait. Thank you.
He nodded as my eyes returned to Cliff at the table in the distance. His eyebrows raised in a delicate attempt at forgiveness. Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me cry, as I turned and fled the restaurant through a winding path of tables, maintaining a non suspicious pace.
I was distraught when I arrived home, taking off my sweater and collapsing onto my bed, a rush of hot tears crawling down my face. A girlfriend. He hadn’t told me. And what’s more, he told me to meet at that restaurant? Was it a joke? I was suddenly terrified as I paced through the possibilities in my head. Maybe he was straight, and his friends knew about me, and put him up to this. Maybe they had been watching. The whole time. The kiss. He kissed me.
An hour passed as I stopped weeping in my bed. It began to rain outside, and I turned on music, my eyes not able to close even in the darkness. I felt sick, hollow. Back to being alone, back to longing for men I would never get, back to dating women I would never marry, back to lying. The phone rang.
And again.
My eyes closed. Ring. Answering machine.
Adam. It’s Cliff.
His voice was weak.
Please answer the phone. I fucked up. I fucked everything up, and I just want you to know that I want to start over. I’ll explain everyth—
The machine cut him off. Silence, the sound of rain again, gentle music. The phone rang again. I picked it up next to me. Silence on the receiver for a long moment, and then—
I don’t know what to say.
Silence. His voice began to soften me again, and I felt the need to keep reminding myself of what he’d done, for the chance that I’d forgive him and all would be forgotten. I couldn’t forget this.
I don’t expect you forgive me, you just need to know the real story. What’s really happening.
Another silence. I answered, my voice cracking from crying.
She’s beautiful.
I’m so sorry, he sighed.
Yeah, well.
Can I come over?
Fuck you. Fuck off.
I winced back tears again, sick of crying. I felt myself wanting him again, wanting to invite him over, wanting to forgive him. But I would remind myself of the hurt, remind myself of how I felt at the restaurant. Hot embarrassment. I hung up the phone, and began to cry again. An eternity of twenty minutes passed, as I began to long for him again. Then there was a soft knock at my door. This time I didn’t hesitate.
He stood at a patio door at the back of my home, soaked from the rain, his dress shirt, hair matted to his head, somehow even better than when he’d done it. Somehow still perfect in this misery. His hand which was on the glass, slid down and now hung beside him with the other. Like a wounded puppy. I laughed silently to myself at this sight, and he smiled pathetically. I opened the door, and he stepped in, dripping wet. I threw him a towel from the hamper nearby.
What are you doing, Cliff?
Please give me a chance to explain.
Explain what? Explain your girlfriend? Explain befriending me? Explain kissing me? You kissed me Cliff, is what I don’t get. You kissed me. Fuck, I don’t even know if you’re really an engineering major. I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid for falling for you. Like I always do…I should have known. That it was too good to be true. That’s so lame. You’re too good. To be true.
Adam I don’t know what to say to you. I want to explain, but I don’t even know where to start. She’s my girlfriend. I was scared of telling you. I want you, but I don’t know why. I don’t know how to explain it, I’ve never felt this before. I wanted to meet you for dinner but it was our anniversary…I already had reservations there with her that I’d forgotten about. So I guess you’re right. I’m a shitty person.
I never said—
I am. I’m not here to self-loathe, but I can’t even describe what I feel right now. My chest hurts. She took the car so I ran here. I just needed to see you. I needed to be near you. And I’ve never felt that before. You make me happier than I’ve ever felt before. I forget about my family, and my dad, and my girlfriend, and my job, and my future when I’m with you. And it’s just you and I, and the rest of the world…blurs.
Another silence between us. The second silence. Intensity. I feel myself stop blinking to see him stand there, wet in his dress clothes, desperation. I broke the silence.
What have we jumped into?
I don’t know. And for now, I don’t care. I just want to jump.
Me too.
I smiled at him. He smiled back. He had left his girlfriend at their dinner, and she had his car. She was mad, confused. I went upstairs to get him new clothes, and he waited downstairs silently, dripping from the rain. I returned, handed him the clothes, and returned upstairs without saying a word. He put on the sweat pants and t-shirt, shut off the lights, and made his way upstairs. In the darkness of my bedroom, I heard him open the door. The weight of him in the bed beside me, crawling up to meet me at my pillow. His breath on my neck. I sat up, and took off my shirt. He did the same, throwing it at the foot of the bed, and lying back down, his hands behind his head. He breathed a sigh of nervous relief, knowing what tomorrow would have in store for he and his girlfriend. I curled over onto my left side, and he ran his fingers along my back as my eyes closed. His arm over my body, hugged close to his. His chest on my back, breathing with me, falling asleep. Falling quickly back in love. He spoke—
I’ve never told anyone about my dad.
Oh yeah?
My eyes were closed, a smile on my face, listening to this man's cello voice in the darkness. I sighed—
So.
So?
What happens tomorrow.
I leave Lindsey.
You’re sure.
More than ever. I need to do this…for me. And then we’ll restart.
I’d like to restart.
Maybe I’ll take you back to the Crown Lounge for the dinner I owe you.
I turned back to face him, our heads on the pillow inches apart in the darkness.
Or. We stay here. And you cook me some of your Italian.
He laughed.
Deal?
Deal.
A silence again. He wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss him. But for now, his girlfriend was at home, hugging her pillow, and we both knew. I rolled back over to my left, reaching behind me for his hand. I clasped it in mine, our fingers intertwined, and held it to my chest, his body shifting closer, pulling towards me. And we slept, fearing and anticipating tomorrow with absolute certainty.
Blake
