by Pat Henshaw
He got up and walked to the wall of windows. His back was toward me as he stared out over Old Town.
“Here’s what I think.” He didn’t turn around but planted one hand on the bricks between two sets of windows. “I think you should do it.”
“What about—?”
He turned and glared at me. “Lemme finish. Let’s say in a month or two, you decide he’s changed into an asshole. No problem. You’re clear and free. Let’s say you two get close, then he drops your ass or you discover he’s back on the juice again. What happens? Yeah, okay, you’re sad, but so what? You’ve got a bunch of backup now you didn’t have before.
“Everybody in the room last night’s your friend, your good friend. You feel like shit? Need advice or help? You come hang with me and Jimmy. Or Fredi and Max. Any of us. You got more shoulders than you got tears.” He ran his hand over his scalp. “I say go for it. You’ll kick yourself forever if you don’t. Go see what you’re gonna see.”
He made sense. Jason and I’d been friends and lovers long ago. We’d been so close we’d practically been one person. But we’d been kids. Then he started using and changed into someone I didn’t know at all. In the end, it was this other person who’d driven a knife through our relationship. It wasn’t really me. Or him.
I’d had five years to cleanse my palate and banish my sorrow. Even though Pretty Boy was dead to me, so was druggie Jason. I’d done a phoenix. Jason had told me he’d done a more thorough one. Now was the time to let him step up and prove it.
“You’re right.” I stood and walked up to Stone at the window. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, what are you going to do about your restaurant? You know the assholes here in town don’t want you, right?”
We sat back down and drank the rest of the coffee and ate the scones. I explained how I was going to meet with Fredi and see if he could come up with a concept I could live with. Stone and I hashed out a plan. Life was back on track.
6
I SPENT the rest of the day making lists of what I needed to get done, from closing the Bistro to opening the new place. I tried not to think about Jason, but he slipped into my thoughts whenever I wasn’t watching.
I called LJ and told him until the roads were safe, he had paid time off. He agreed that since it was supposed to snow off and on for the next few days, we wouldn’t be able to get much done about the new place. The roads would be a mess.
He told me he’d leave a winter closing message on the Bistro phone. I asked him if he could make a list of contact information of Bistro customers so we could tell them when the Stone Acres kitchen opened. Things were starting to come together.
When I got hold of Abe, he said his crew had a few finishing touches he wanted in place before he’d take me on a walk-through. Since the forecast was for more snow, I agreed to wait. Besides, while I fucking wanted to move into my new place and out of Stone’s, I figured Abe was the boss on when this would happen.
I called Jason last since I wanted everything else decided before I talked to him. We agreed to meet when the weather let us.
TWO DAYS and two snowfalls later, he and I met at Jimmy’s downtown coffee shop, this time in the public area, not upstairs where Stone and I’d talked earlier. I’d spent the time both thinking about what I wanted to say to Jason and creating menus. Now I was running a little late. The snow that I walked through was mushy, as if it were deciding whether to melt or turn to ice sculptures. It was time to winterize and close up the Bistro and get serious about starting in Old Town. My plate ran over with worries.
Jason was sitting in a corner next to the high windows looking out on Main Street. Like before, he was dressed in expensive clothes and shone like a million bucks. Which I guess he should since he was worth millions. Before he turned away from the windows and saw me, I studied him. He was still pretty, but in an adult way now. The innocence had rubbed off him. He appeared sad, almost lonely and lost like I hadn’t seen him since junior high when we first became friends.
As I walked toward him, feeling just a little underdressed in my jeans, navy T-shirt, and peacoat, he rose and smiled. There was the Pretty Boy smile. Or was it? This smile was more adult, more nuanced than I remembered. This smile was a Guatemalan Fiambre as compared to a simple house salad. It promised something deep and satisfying instead of superficial.
“Hi, Adam. I’m David.” He held out his hand to shake mine.
I stopped, startled.
“David?”
He wiggled his hand at me, and I clasped it. He shook like someone meeting me for the first time.
What the fuck? Now I was totally confused.
As he dropped my hand, I stood staring at him, gaping like a stunned catfish.
He gestured to the chair at an angle to his with a coffee table in front of us.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“Yeah. I think they have a jasmine-like coffee that’s not on the board.”
Jason—no, this guy who said he was David—smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
He strode to the order counter, more agilely than I’d seen Jason move in years.
David. Jason’s middle name was Jason. David Jason. DJ and AS forever. Adam Sean, me. How many desks had I carved those initials in? How many trees? How many pocketknives had I worn out? I sighed and shook my head.
He returned and put a mug in front of me on the table. Then he swung around. “Be right back.”
I picked up the cup and took a deep breath. Oh, yeah. This was the good stuff. It was subtle and tantalizing, adding a hint of the exotic to the air around me. It cleared my head and centered me, propped me up for the discussion to come.
I watched Jason—no, I reminded myself, he’d said his name was David—walk back to our table with a mug in one hand and a stack of napkins in the other. He put the cup in front of himself and the napkins in the center of the table and sat.
“Okay. I think we’re good. Now how about I tell you a little more about what happened to me and what it all means? Okay?” His bright cheery face and clear eyes were so good to see. I could feel myself turning to mush.
I grunted and nodded because speech, even a casual “Fine,” was too much.
“Okay. What you don’t know is, I’d decided to kick the junk before you left. I’d been failing you, us, for so long, I was ashamed. I tried to go cold turkey by myself with no help from anyone, but I’d dug myself in so far I couldn’t quite do it. So I tried weaning myself instead. Unsuccessfully, I admit. But I was trying.” He stopped.
To himself, he muttered, “Oh, yeah, I forgot to ask. I don’t know if you take sugar anymore. Yes? No?”
I shook my head and ducked to look into my cup. This shit was good enough to drink commando. I was on edge, impatient to get to what he had to say. I felt stronger today. Maybe the “call me David” shit was helping. I wasn’t talking to Jason now. I was talking to someone new. Whatever it was, I decided to let him bring it on.
“So I was more schizoid than usual. There at the end.” He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “Yeah, good stuff,” he muttered, then took another sip. “I looked like shit and felt like shit and treated you like shit. I’m sorry. I know. I already said it.” He put up a hand to stop me from talking, but I had nothing. “In the rehab program, I met this guy who was one of the mentors. He seemed the most stable of the group, so I mined him for hints and strategies. You know, a lot of programs have more failures than successes. I wanted to know how he’d come out on top.”
He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.
“So here it is. He explained he died and was reborn, and it was the only way to go.” He held up his hand again. “I know. Sounds idiotic, but listen. His point was to consider my past self gone, dead, and reinvent myself into whatever I wanted to be. He told me I had to start with a new name to go with my new habits. So I became David. See? Nothing about churches or religion or any other crap you were thinking.”
I shook my head. I hadn’t
been thinking anything. I’d been listening. What he said made sense. It’d be fucking hard to do, but in a way, I admired him for the strength to try.
“The problem was, he told me, since the old Jason was dead and I was now David, I had to find out who David was and what he wanted out of life. Every time I started to do something without thinking, something run-of-the-mill for Jason, I had to stop and ask myself, ‘Is this something David would do?’ Like you do when you train a puppy or raise a child, I had to guide myself away from the behaviors that pulled Jason down into drugs.”
“Sounds like hell.” I wondered if I could have done it. I was pretty set in my ways.
“It was god-awful and still is sometimes.” He and I took sips from our cups, our eyes averted. My admiration was growing, but I was still doubtful. Could I take this as truth? If David was completely different from Jason, it was possible I wouldn’t even like him, much less love him. Somehow the thought made my heart break a little. All I’d ever wanted in life was to love and be loved by Jason. If he was to be believed, wasn’t my dream dead? Damn.
“Anyway, here’s the thing. I’ve known where you are and what you’ve been doing for years, but I couldn’t get in touch until I was confident my new self was someone I wanted you to know. Now I am.”
His smile was radiant. He didn’t seem worried or upset, even when I didn’t return his grin.
“I asked you to meet me not only to explain all this to you, but also to tell you about something big I discovered.” He looked at me over his cup. “Drink up. This is incredibly good coffee.”
I’d been sitting like a bird on a fence, letting his words pour over me. I had my misgivings and was a little confused, yet in a way I was excited too. A new Jason? A new David? Okay, maybe my old dreams of us together as Jason and Adam were done, but could my dreams of us together forever come true? Or was he operating under a behavior modification scam that would turn to dust?
“I want to apply for a job in your new restaurant.”
Oh hell no! my mind screamed. No way!
He held up a hand, which seemed to be one of his new behaviors, and shook his head. “I can see your reply, but give me a second. I realized when I was becoming David that I didn’t like being a sous chef. I’d done it and for a while done a good job at it because you wanted us to be together in the kitchen.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question burst out.
“Well, for one thing, I’d never really thought about it. Also, I never wanted to disappoint you. I did whatever you told me to do. I’m not complaining. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted us to be together forever.” He shook his head, his eyes focused somewhere other than the present. “I saw myself in a supporting role. But the reality was you didn’t need me in the kitchen.”
What the fuck? Wasn’t I the one who was always rolling over? Wasn’t I the one who was doing everything he wanted? I ran my hand down my face and shook my head. “No….”
“Listen a little bit more. Please, Adam. Just a few more seconds.” His eyes pleaded with me.
See? Wasn’t this what I was thinking? I was the one doing what he wanted. But I nodded once, quickly and sharply.
“I discovered what I really like is organizing the front of the house—hiring the waitstaff, making the work schedules, cutting the paychecks. I like deciding on the rules and training new people. I like to walk through the dining room and make sure diners are having a good time, eating food they enjoy with a happy, peaceful setting around them. I like being the liaison with the kitchen and chef, but not working there. That’s what I want to apply for—manager, not sous. I’d like you to consider me for your new restaurant.” Before I could say anything else, he added, “I have experience and references from the Bay Area. Some top-notch places. Please. I want a chance to show you the new me.”
“But you don’t fucking need a job. You told me yourself.” I was stunned in the face of his pleading.
“Neither do you,” he countered. “But we’d both die with absolutely nothing to do with ourselves.” His sympathetic smile understood how pathetic we were to be drawn to hard work when we didn’t need the money.
“Aren’t you afraid to work for me in my restaurant again?” I sputtered.
“Scared shitless.” He hung his head, then looked up at me. His eyes blazed. “But it’s the only way I can think of to prove to both of us how much I’ve changed and give us another chance. I want us to be together.”
Well, fuck, I needed to think. I wanted so badly to say shit yeah, yes. I got where he was going with his plea. This was a chance to start over, this time as adults with separate responsibilities. I’d always thought of us as equals, but now we really would be. His suggestion glowed like a promise of hope at the end of five years of darkness.
I didn’t promise David anything, but I told him to e-mail me his resume and references. Then I gave him a test.
“Okay, this is what I want you to do.” He leaned toward me, so eager to please that it about broke my heart. I wasn’t a savior, for God’s sake. I’d already proven I couldn’t magically make things better. I took a deep breath and continued. “Go take a look at the space and see if you can come up with a concept for the restaurant. You might want to call Fredi Zimmer and get his input, see what he’d recommend. You want to be part of this fuckfest, then great. I need some ideas. So far I’ve come up blank. Whatdaya think?”
He accepted the challenge like a kid with a new cookbook and apron.
For days I’d been thinking about everything David had said, and I realized I owed him something. Five years ago, he’d needed me, and I’d selfishly bailed. Actually, I owed both of us something: a chance. This seemed to be a good place to start if he truly wanted to be part of the downtown restaurant. If he wanted to start over again.
A COUPLE days later, when I phoned Abe Behr about doing a preliminary walk-through and inspection, he agreed to meet me at the building. I was hoping to move into my new apartment above the restaurant and out of Stone and Jimmy’s house ASAP.
Abe handed me a set of keys as I met him at the back door.
“We had to change all the locks again,” he said. “My guys found the place looking like squatters had broken in after we finished our work, so we got new hardware and a security system. You should be all right now.”
The stench that greeted us lingered from whoever’d gotten in. If Abe’s group had tried to clean it up, they hadn’t done a very good job. As we walked around, Abe found a few places that had been damaged. Fortunately the vagrants hadn’t gone upstairs into my apartment.
“Sorry about the smell. We’ll fix the problems and clean up right this time,” Abe assured me. “Then we’ll call the inspectors for final sign-off. By the way, the town council’s gonna want to talk to you.” He stopped and turned to me. “The council’s gonna be a problem.”
“Yeah? How so?” Stone had mentioned gays weren’t wanted downtown, but I hadn’t really listened. I’d been too caught up about Jason, uh, David. I had to make the switch in my mind. Besides, mine wasn’t a “gay” business. I was a celebrity chef, a hometown kid. I was more than just any other gay guy.
Running his hand over his face, his frown pulling down with his hand, Abe brought me back to the present.
“They don’t want newcomers, particularly gay newcomers, moving in.”
“I’m not a newcomer,” I protested. “Hell, everyone knows I grew up in this town. I slept in the back of Stonewall during high school. They can’t pull any newcomer crap on me.”
Abe shrugged like he was merely the messenger and not the one to blame. But dammit, I’d been kicked around as a kid growing up here. No way was I going to let them kick me around now.
“They won’t like that you and Jason are back after being big names in the Bay Area. You know how it goes around here. You started down, so they want you to stay down.” He looked unhappy. “Are you and him still a couple?”
I had to laugh. Only Abe Behr would be oblivious to all that had h
appened between me and Jason. He probably hadn’t read any of the tabloids or watched any of the celebrity news shows.
The story was too complicated to get into in detail, but I had to answer him. “Long story short: I dumped him when he was taking drugs. He says he’s cleaned up. I don’t know if I believe him or not.”
Abe sighed. “Don’t know if I’d ever trust anybody who was once a user,” he intoned mournfully. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen anyone completely turn around.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m giving him a chance.”
He shrugged again. “Okay. Hope it works out for you.” Then he paused and looked at me. “The council knows about this?”
I shrugged. Anyone who read the tabloids would.
“Well, that’s not going to make it easier for you.”
As we walked toward the back door, he reminded me about the security system and my codes.
He stood for a minute in the doorway staring at me. He shook his head. “Good luck,” he muttered.
7
THREE DAYS later, when the roads were soup and the sky radiated fall, Jason… I mean, David called back all excited to give me his ideas. I had him meet me and Fredi at the building with Abe.
The place looked only marginally better than it had when Abe and I toured it. The rubble was gone, but now two of the high windows in the back were broken, and the back door had been roughed up like someone had tried to break in but couldn’t.
As Abe and I inspected the damage, finding the bricks that had been tossed through the windows and the cut wires for the security system and the power, Fredi and David were having a furious discussion in whispers.
Since Abe was a certified electrician, he promised to get on the wiring that day and call an inspector to okay it. He stopped to say good-bye to Fredi and David before he left to get his tools and rearrange his day.
As I walked Abe out and shut the door behind him, I studied the tiny piles of melting snow. The storms were gone and now the sun glared down, making a fine steam rise from the streets and sidewalks. I wondered fleetingly if the whole idea of buying this building and setting up a new restaurant was what I was supposed to be doing. My life was complicated enough without adding to it. Were my dreams as fragile as the melting snow?