by Chase Connor
Lucas just eyed me, sipping at his wine.
“So, to answer your question…yeah. I want to settle down.” I took another gulp of wine and started to make a cheese and cracker sandwich. “Find a nice guy, do the whole domesticated thing. Not sure about kids, though. But also, I want to make him travel all over the world with me. But just for fun, of course. I just want someone to love me for me.”
We both sat there, sipping at our wine, taking a bite sporadically, uncomfortable at how real the discussion became so quickly and easily. There was something about Lucas that made me just be open and honest. Or maybe it was the Riesling. Yeah, it was probably the Riesling. Or perhaps it was just having someone real to talk to for the first time in a long time. Someone who didn’t curse and scream at me, nor want something, nor judge me. Lucas made me feel comfortable just being myself.
“Riesling sure is a lubricant, isn’t?” Lucas mumbled.
“I don’t know if I would have used that phrasing.” I laughed loudly.
Lucas blushed until he looked like a tomato but couldn’t keep himself from laughing as well.
“This is really good wine.” I pretended to slur.
“Five buck chuck.” He shrugged.
“Best tasting five bucks ever.”
“Do you like red wine?” He grinned sheepishly and stood from his stool before heading over to the cabinet.
He opened the cabinet over his sink to show that he had three more bottles hiding out of sight.
“You naughty little bastard.”
He chewed at his lip as he held onto the cabinet door, looking down at his feet.
“These bottles would last me forever.” He said lowly. “I never drink much because after one glass with dinner, I’m done. I never have any…friends to enjoy them with. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable anyway. But…we’re best friends now, right?”
“If there’s a peppery merlot up there, yes.” I teased. “Hell, even if there’s not, you’re my new best buddy.”
Lucas laughed, a little drunkenly, and pulled a bottle down from the cabinet. He popped the cork like an expert and sat back down on his stool across from me again.
“Oma will be pissed when I show up…well…pissed.” I giggled like a girl as I drained the last of my Riesling to make room for the Merlot.
“Shhhhhh.” Lucas held a finger to his lips. “We just won’t tell her.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t get me cursed out.” I laughed.
Lucas poured me a healthy serving of wine and then filled his glass in the same fashion. We lifted our glasses and clinked them together.
“To new best friends.” I smiled.
“Absolutely.” He smiled back.
Wine was drunk, food was eaten, secrets and dreams and desires were shared, and I lost track of how much was eaten, drunk, and how much time went by. But hours later, I found myself having driven myself home completely drunk, stumbling in the front door of Oma’s house. I managed to not swing the door in so violently that it struck the wall, but that was mostly because I was holding onto it to stay upright.
Once inside the door, I steadied myself, collected all of my faculties, trying not to giggle at how loopy I was, then gently closed the door behind myself. Thinking about taking off my coat in the foyer and hanging it neatly by the door seemed like a tall order, so I decided I would just take it off in my bedroom. As steadily as my feet and legs could manage, I made my way to the stairs and started my ascent.
Lucas and I had spent hours talking about our lives, what we did in our free time, why we couldn’t find our “person,” and how we were obviously the best friends there ever were. When you have good wine, good food, and good company, friendship is never far behind. And life never seems all that awful. When I had left, he had insisted that I sleep it off on his couch, but I promised him that I would be just fine going home. Of course, trying to navigate the stairs made me realize that I wasn’t nearly as well off as I thought. In fact, driving home had been completely irresponsible.
I promised myself quietly, as I scaled the stairs, that there would be no more driving even after a single drink. I would prepare to stay wherever I was when I drank. At least the house was dark and quiet at such a late hour, so I didn’t have to worry about Oma waking up and cursing me out, or worse, just staring at me in disappointment. When I finally crested the top of the stairs, I crept past her door, probably a lot less stealthily than I felt I did in my drunken state and went down to the room I was staying in while at Oma’s.
Inside my room, once I had shut the door, I began to strip. The coat got tossed on the couch, my shoes got kicked off haphazardly at the end of the bed. My jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped, and shimmied out of, left to lay on the floor a few feet from the shoes. Then my shirt was stripped off and tossed in the direction of the couch. It fluttered to the floor in a heap, which made me giggle for some reason. I chuckled drunkenly to myself as I stumbled over to the couch and picked up my shirt, somehow managing to not tumble forward myself. Once I rose, my head swam, and I giggled again as I worked to balance myself. I finally dropped the shirt on the couch, and I blinked drunkenly, trying to assess whether or not a trip to the bathroom to puke was in order or not.
Blurrily, I gazed out of the window that looked down on the backyard. Someone was in the garden. They were shrouded in a hooded cloak of some kind, hands aloft, towards the sky. Several shadowy creatures were circled around them. My head swam again as I stared down at what obviously had to be a hallucination in Oma’s garden. Next thing I knew, my head was on my pillow in bed.
Chapter 10
My dreams were filled with shadowy, scurrying creatures once again. I slept like a log, however, never once waking up from sounds or thoughts of my room or bed being invaded. Even when my mind was telling me that something was curled up by my feet, I continued to sleep. When I woke in the morning, I felt well-rested, but my head was not entirely happy with me. I sat on the edge of my bed for quite a while after taking my Paxil, then slid out of bed to start my day. The room only moved a little. Surely Oma was already at the breakfast table, waiting on me, but I figured getting bathed and washing up was important before showing my face. She would know that I had been out very late, but I didn’t need to give her another reason to worry, such as looking hungover.
So, I bathed. I washed my hair thoroughly. I dried myself off, styled my hair, shaved my face, put on fresh, clean clothes. I picked up my room and made everything presentable, hiding all evidence that I had come in drunk and disorderly. When I finally got down to the kitchen thirty minutes later, I looked bushy-tailed and alert. First and foremost, I was an actor, after all. I’d had plenty of practice looking ready when I was anything but. Oma was sitting at the table, a half-finished plate of food in front of her, and mine was sitting in my spot, ready to be eaten.
Eggs, bacon, hash browns.
My stomach only churned a little.
Oma eyed me stoically, looking up from her phone every now and then as I got a glass of water and a mug of coffee and joined her at the table. As I sat, she set her phone down and looked up at me.
“Good morning.” I smiled.
“You may be a good actor, but you ain’t foolin’ me.”
“I’m sorry?” I picked up my fork.
“Lucas done texted to ask if you got home safe because you forgot to text him yourself, ya’ dumbass.” She swatted at my arm. “What are you doing driving home drunk?”
“I was totally fine.” I waved her off.
My stomach churned, and I had to shut my mouth to make sure nothing came up.
“You’re so fuckin’ stupid.” She rolled her eyes.
“Okay.” I sighed. “Maybe I had a little too much wine. But I’m here, and I’m fine. Let’s not fight.”
“Got a headache?” She pursed her lips.
“Not anymore.” I burped slightly.
“Mmhm.”
“We were just having a good time, and I lost track of time and how much I dra
nk…and, look, let’s just drop it.”
“Fine.” She said. “Make sure you text Lucas.”
“Okay.”
We sat in silence for several minutes, eating our food, Oma happily, me forcing it down. I drank my water slowly but steadily, hoping it would help everything going on with my body. Luckily, I was only in my mid-twenties. I hadn’t been drunk in a very long time, but I knew I would bounce back by lunchtime. And, apparently, Lucas had already bounced back.
“Snitch,” I muttered between mouthfuls.
“Who?!”
“Lucas.”
“He was just making sure you were fine, ya’ asshole.” She swatted my arm again. “So…did you two have fun? Like I need to ask.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Lucas is a really nice guy. I think we’re blood brothers now or formed a gang or something.”
Oma couldn’t help but laugh.
“Lucas is…nice.”
“He’s more than nice.” She snorted. “He’s a wonderful kid, and…”
“He’s older than me.” I eyed her. “I don’t think ‘kid’ is the appropriate term for what he is.”
She waved me off.
“Regardless, I’m glad you enjoy each other’s company.”
“Can I ask you a favor?” I asked with an evil grin before shoving eggs into my mouth, suddenly feeling better.
“I suppose.” She pursed her lips again. “I mean, I guess I owe you for not dying on your way home last night, huh?”
“Oma.”
She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to continue.
“I think Lucas needs a girlfriend.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “And I know a certain busybody who might be able to help with that. So, what do you say?”
She stood brusquely from the table and took her plate to the sink.
“Whoa.” I sat back in my chair. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. The busybody thing was just a joke. Don’t get all testy, Oma.”
“I ain’t mad.” She grumbled over her shoulder.
“Seems like it…”
“Well, I’m not helping you find him a girlfriend, and that’s that.”
“Why not?” I frowned. “I don’t know anyone around here, and he’s not so keen on Jill at the café, and…”
“There’s not a girl around here for Lucas.” She turned and glared at me.
I held my hands up defensively.
“Okay,” I said. “I get it. You’re protective of Lucas. Jeez.”
“And don’t you dare even suggest to him that I’m going to set him up on no dates.” Oma glared at me. “You hear me, ya’ asshole?”
“How drunk did you get last night?” I snorted.
“Just don’t.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes.
“Good!” She growled, then calmed down. “I tried to set him up once, and it blew up in my face, and he got kinda perturbed with me, and I promised I wouldn’t do it anymore.”
“That’s all you had to say, crazy.” I shoved hash browns into my mouth. “Well, if he got mad at you…I guess me doing it would be worse.”
She smiled slightly.
“Well, you are blood brothers and all now.” She teased.
I chuckled.
“Worry about yourself.” She waved me off. “You didn’t forget you’re going out with Andrew tonight did you?”
“Shit.” I lowered my head to the table.
“Shouldn’t’ve got so drunk last night, you sot.” She chastised me.
I sat there, my head laid against the table, wondering if there was a way to diplomatically get out of the date with Andrew. But I knew it would offend him no matter what and Oma would absolutely disown me—if not outright kill me. There was no way that I wasn’t going to be taking Andrew out for dinner, at his place of choice, probably in Toledo, but he might even insist that we drive into Cleveland.
Getting stuck in a car with Andrew for an hour or more, one way, was just too much for me to consider with the state I was in at breakfast. Maybe I could convince him to let me meet him wherever it was that we were going to meet. I considered that as an option to limiting one-on-one time with the eye-fucker but thought that might be considered rude. This wasn’t a blind date, after all. We’d been properly introduced and manners most likely dictated that we ride together to wherever it was we were going to eat.
“Does Andrew live in Point Worth?” I asked Oma as I lifted my head and she cleared my plate away.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Well, I wasn’t going to be able to reason that it was ridiculous for him to drive to Point Worth from Toledo to just pick me up. Oma washed up the dishes as I sat there and rehydrated and sipped my coffee. After she had placed the plates and cutlery and pants in the draining tray, she turned and looked across the kitchen, out of the window. She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a minute before turning to me.
“I have a confession.”
I looked up at her with a cocked eyebrow, coffee mug held to my lips.
“I done texted Andrew and told him to be here by five to pick you up.” She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s going to take you into Toledo for Indian food.”
She rolled her eyes.
“That way he can get you home before dark tonight.” She added.
“Um, okay?”
I didn’t know if I was pissed off or relieved.
“You were out too late last night anyway, so tonight you should be home and in bed at a decent time. That’s all!” She said.
“I didn’t say anything.” I snorted.
“Well, anyway, he’ll be here at five.”
“So…you didn’t mind me going to dinner at Lucas’ near dark and getting drunk…but you’re worried about me being out after dark with Andrew?” I grinned widely. “Are you worried about my virtue?”
“Lucas is a good ki—young man.” She said. “Andrew…well, I don’t spend a lot of time with him away from the center except for an occasional coffee or something. I don’t want him to think you’re…ya’ know.”
“Easy?” I smiled sweetly.
“Sure. Let’s go with that.” She nodded. “I just don’t know him as well as Lucas by a long bit, so it’s different.”
“You’re too cute for words, Oma.”
“Look—it’s just—tonight—just make sure you’re home before dark, damnit.” She stammered.
“Calm down, crazy.” I laughed. “I didn’t want to go on the date anyway. This was all your crazy idea.”
“Maybe we could reschedule…”
“What?” I was so confused but amused as well. “Why would I reschedule? If I’m going to go on this damn date, I want to just get it out of the way. Maybe he won’t be so bad? I mean, he seemed a little pervy and all—but what man isn’t to some extent, right?”
“Degrading your own gender.”
“Well, I mean, it’s true.” I shrugged. “Most guys have a little pervert in them. Some just control it better than others.”
“I guess so.” She chewed at her lip. “Well, anyway, be ready at five.”
“Okay.” I shrugged and stood from the table. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“Get the Hell out of here.” She waved me off violently.
As I left the kitchen, she was typing away on her phone like her life depended upon it. I just said a silent prayer to myself that she would find whatever help she needed for her mental health issues. First, she wanted me to go out with someone, then she didn’t. She talked to herself and slammed doors and acted crazy every time I turned around. Oma was definitely in need of a prescription for an SSRI herself, as far as I could tell. Possibly an antipsychotic.
Chapter 11
The drive to Toledo with Andrew had not been as bad as I had thought that it would be. Andrew had picked me up at Oma’s house a few minutes until five and was perfectly respectable towards me and even more polite with Oma. He hadn’t leered at me lasciviously when I had answered the door, n
or had he made any inappropriate comments about my outfit or how I looked. I mean, he had said that I looked “very handsome” but he had done it with an appropriate tone and look in his eyes, so no harm, no foul.
On the ride into Toledo, he kept to his side of the car as he drove us down the highway, making small talk about his work. I made sure to steer every question and answer back to him and what he did as to avoid admitting that I was a famous actor who he just hadn’t recognized yet. Andrew informed me that he was a financial manager at a corporation in downtown Cleveland, and I quickly lost interest. Not that it didn’t sound exciting in its own right, but he started talking numbers and cost estimation and financial statements and cash-flow statements and profit projections and my eyes glazed over. I had never been one to think that business and accounting was an exciting career to consider, mostly because I hated numbers. I tried to remind myself that many people found the business world to be fast-paced and exciting, but I just couldn’t make myself get incredibly interested in what he had to say about his job. Did that make me an asshole? Probably. But I tried and failed to show much genuine interest in what Andrew did for a living.
When we got to the restaurant, valet service parked Andrew’s car, and we entered, Andrew making a big show of opening the door for me. I did my best to look impressed by his manners. We were seated without incident, though the host of the restaurant did a double take when he saw me. It was almost a look of recognition, but it quickly disappeared as the host seemed to convince himself that he was just being ridiculous in thinking that I was who I am. Once we were seated, Andrew ordered a beer, and I asked simply for water as I was trying to get over my hangover still. It wasn’t bad, but it was lingering.
Immediately, I picked up my menu, giving it a glance before realizing that the Indian food offered was pretty standard. Andrew leaned in, using his finger bowl to wash his hands. I disregarded the finger bowls as I planned to eat with my cutlery. Andrew noticed that I didn’t wash my hands and gave me a five-minute lecture about how all Indians eat with their hands and what the purpose of the bowl was. He also told me that traditionally, we would be sitting on the floor on comfortable mats to eat if we were eating like real Indians. I had asked him if he had ever traveled to India and he confessed that he had not, but he hoped to go one day.