by Jenn Cooksey
He responded by opening his eyes outrageously wide and placing the fingertips of his hands—both hands, mind you—over his mouth. Then, bubbly and practically bouncing, he silently clapped and over-annunciated his unspoken words of, “Oh my God! She’s so pretty!”
I texted back, “Really? Like I don’t already know? I’m freaking out here. And btw, the fuck, man? Stop checking out her ass. You like dick now, remember? And trust me, she has an innie, not an outie.”
Then from across the room still, he read the text and while flipping me off, he shot me a rather masculine look that said, ‘Cheap shot, dude.’
My next correspondence was, “Can we get back to the FML and I’m freaking out part of this convo., please? Seriously, I need to get the fuck out of here before I say or do something I’ll regret. Like inviting her to sit down, because if I do I just know I’ll offer her my face instead of a barstool.”
His eyebrows soared up and disappeared into his hair.
“Not even kidding,” I typed back, consciously realizing as I hit send that my mouth was already watering at the thought of going down on Erica again, and that’s when the girly-man strolled up and, in person, finally met the girl that the guy who saved his life once was and still is in love with.
“I’m gonna start marinating the filets and seeing if I can make the lightest meringue your mouth has ever had the pleasure of, and you should start straightening up,” he commands, giving a condemnatory look around my living room and the mess it is from being smack-dab in the middle of moving into my new house, “And get rid of these boxes…either toss ‘em in a closet or break ‘em down and stack ‘em in the garage or something. We have about four hours before Erica gets here, so that should give you plenty of time to do that in addition to washing the stink off you and getting that paint out of your hair.”
I’m pretty sure I heard him correctly, but I don’t have words, and all I seem able to do is rapidly blink in trying to understand what he means by saying I have four hours until Erica gets here.
“You look confused…”
“No shit, I’m confused. What in the actual hell are you talking about?”
“I ran into Erica at the market and invited her over for dinner.”
“Y—Bu—And she accepted?”
“Of course. Well, after I talked her into it she did. She was a little hesitant at first, but she was no match for my charming self.”
My mouth falls open. “Payton, if her first instinct was to decline, then there’s my answer. She’s not interested in me the way I am in her.”
“Oh, would you shut up. It wasn’t that kind of hesitation. Seemed like she felt she’d be intruding or something like that, so I faked a phone call to you in front of her to ‘make sure you were cool with her coming over’,” he tells me, using air quotes, “And after hanging up, she was more than happy to accept our invitation. She even insisted on bringing something, but since I already have everything taken care of, I told her that all she needs to bring is herself.”
“Oh my God, Payton, you don’t understand! Insisting to bring something is Erica speak for doing the polite, socially expected thing to do,” I explain and then sigh when he just gives me a look that essentially says, ‘Duh. That’s what everyone does, so what?’ So shaking my head, I enlighten him further on what The Great Big Book of Erica that I spent a lifetime reading says in regard to her and social niceties. “If I were still special to her and she actually wanted to come here or see me for any reason, she would’ve just shown up with a homemade apple cobbler or a fucking book of coupons declaring her to be the bearer’s personal chef for a month or something else adorably saccharin like that!”
“She makes special people coupons?” he asks, like he’s impressed and possibly considering adding that to his dating repertoire.
“Yeah. With stickers, glitter glue, and all kinds of other cute shit.”
“Huh. Well, I didn’t know and it’s beside the point now. And, one would think you’d be tickled about the fact that she’s coming in the first place.”
“Yeah…because she feels obligated. I mean, you felt you had to fake a goddamned phone call which means she was obviously uncomfortable, so why the hell would you force her hand like that?”
He starts shaking his head in exasperation. “Fine. You really wanna know why I’ve been pushing and conniving?”
“Yeah, I do. Explain it to me, because having Erica here in what basically amounts to as her being under duress is gonna suck beyond the telling of it for me.”
“Because I owe you. I’ve known you about six years now and in that time, we’ve shared a lot of really personal things with each other, and we’ve been through some even more fucked up shit than anyone would wanna hear or even know about. You gave me my life back in more than one way, man, and I’m not gonna stand by and watch you blow this chance at living yours the way you deserve to live it…because I know what you want out of life. I know you want a love that consumes you wholly and the only person you’ll ever have it with is her.”
“How can you know that? How can you be so sure she’s the person for me? You don’t even know her…”
“Bullshit, I don’t. Through you, I got to know her years ago and quite well at that. I might not have known about coupon books, but even so. I honestly thought you’d made her up because no one person could ever possibly live up to being the veritable paragon you made her out to be.
“However, meeting her in person, watching her and listening, I believe you now. I mean I remember every conversation we ever had, and I clearly remember you describing in detail a girl who has every quality you could ever hope to find in a single individual, a girl who has no equal in your mind and because of that one thing, she will forever hold your entire heart under lock and key, brother. Even through the anger and bitter words, you practically radiated unadulterated love for her, and I could see what was going on inside you when you’d just think of or talk about her.
“I don’t think you even realize the effect she has on you, but…you glow, Cole. From the inside out, you glow. You being actually with her, though, the light coming from within you is blinding. You were incandescent Friday night and I’ve never witnessed a transformation like that in my life. That’s how I know she will always be your lifetime’s one epic love. And I will not sit idly by and allow you to let fear or uncertainty paralyze either of you and keep you from experiencing the kind of joyous life that only she can bring you.
“You had a shot and royally blew it, but for your sacrifices and several acts of profound valor throughout these last years, it’s my opinion that God has deemed you worthy of a second chance. And from where I sit, you’re turning your nose up at His offer…this gift, Cole. You’re sabotaging yourself. I can’t have you doing that. Not when you had a hand in me receiving my second chance.
“So this time, you need to fight for it, and I’m going to see to it that you have ample opportunity to suit up. No more of this pussy footing around, waiting for the right moment. Fuck that. Make your moment or I’ll make it for you. I know you’re concerned about timing and aspects of your life as it is now, and whether she’ll be able to accept being a part of it, and sure, there’s a possibility you two aren’t meant to be, but regardless, what do you have to lose in trying to find out? Because if you even want a peek at any of the answers to your questions, you have to stop teetering on the edge of speculation and just dive in head first.”
While he ultimately went Air Force, Payton was blessed with a talent few have naturally and he was actually sought out by his local Marine Corps recruiter and encouraged to go for sniper school, so it’s no surprise really that every word coming from his mouth hits its mark; and as each are aimed with the utmost precision befitting a master marksman, I find myself ill-equipped to argue with the clear truth of every one of his solidly made points. Everything he said—absolutely all of it—is undeniable fact. To have needed someone to put it into words for me, though, just to be able to accept it as such, l
eaves me shaken. She’s had me heart and soul since day one and finding out that we’re not meant for one another—that I’ve been deluding myself my entire life—scares the shit out of me so I’ve been protecting myself from that possibly with cowardice and by not taking even a small step, let alone the biggest of leaps. Well, I’m tired of this incessant vacillation and I’m done being a shrinking violet when it comes to Erica as well.
Meeting his eyes, I blow out a steadying breath and nod. “Okay, I don’t think I have any idea of what I’m getting into for real, but I’ll do it. Head first, I’ll dive in.”
“Good, you stubborn ass. Now get this house in order…this mess won’t aid a long overdue courtship and it disturbs my innate gay aesthetics.”
I chuckle at him and take a good look around my house; the clutter, boxes, and general disarray fades away and is replaced with overwhelming pride in myself, the feeling coming from having accomplished the feat of designing and building it myself. My eyes then travel over just a few of the pictures that have made it onto the walls and I pull up short. Pride is bulldozed to the ground by extreme panic as I twist and turn, my gaze hitting books, movies, and all sorts of questionable things that will no doubt doom a courtship with Erica before it even gets a chance to begin.
“Tick-tock, dude, I want this place spic and span before Erica gets here.”
“Oh my God, Payton, we have to cancel.”
“No, we do not have to cancel, and we won’t! You literally just told me you’re going in regardless! These filets are fresh, and they cost a pretty penny too, dammit, so get your shit together and clean your goddamned house!”
“Are you out of your ever-loving homosexual mind?! I don’t care about the damned steak! Take a look around, you jackass! Erica can’t come here!” I holler and swing my arms around wildly, demanding he comprehend my predicament here.
“Oh. Holy shit…” he mutters to himself, his eyes growing round now that he’s finally cognizant of the issue, “Um…shit. Shit.” He finishes sealing the meat in a bag to marinate, washes his hands, and then wiping them on the damned apron that has a cartoon depiction of a man’s naked chest on it, he looks at the empty boxes, then me, and decidedly nods. “We’re not canceling. We’ll just pack up the outwardly suggestive things and take it all back to your dad’s until you’re ready to tell her. And that I will let you choose your moment for…after all, you didn’t shove me out of the closet so I won’t push you either.”
I blow out another breath, hastily grab a box and start yanking pictures off and nails out of the walls while Payton grabs a box of his own. “You know, it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier and faster if you classified your books and movies by genre instead of alphabetically,” he complains and then holds up a Blu-ray disc, “Oh, hey, I haven’t seen this one. Can I hide it so I can watch it after she leaves?”
I look at the movie in question and my mouth falls open yet again. “Absolutely not! None of them can be in this house when Erica gets here, man! Jesus Christ, use your head…I mean how would I explain having that without lying to her?”
“Yeah, I know, you’re right,” the movie slips from his fingers and lands in the box already halfway full.
Two hours later we’re trudging down the road to my dad’s house for the second time; Payton pulling a wagon and me pushing a wheelbarrow; both filled with bones belonging to a skeleton that is entirely more alive than dead…one that Erica will likely view as so fearsome, it definitely needs to be kept hidden in a crypt until I’m either certain she can handle coming face to face with it, or, until the hourglass runs out of sand and forces my hand. Whichever form the inevitability of Erica being told takes, I’m still diving in. And actually, I can’t wait to get in over my head now that I’ve made the decision, regardless of where I’m left when all is said and done. Although once I’ve taken the plunge and gone deep enough to unveil the secrets I’ve kept from her, both new and old, I can only hope and pray to God that she’ll be understanding.
“I never thought I’d be so flaming as to wear feathers in public but, I am just loving this thing,” Payton enthuses, running the fingers of his free hand through the electric blue boa around his neck, “It’s a tad on the frilly side of course, but it’s so soft…I must get one.”
“Of course you must…” I mutter and chuckle at him as he continues to nuzzle the feathers.
The last load of things we’d already carted to my house from my dad’s only one day ago is safely stowed away again, and upon shutting my front door, the lingering odor of fresh paint wafts up from a room downstairs and has both of us sniffing the air and staring horrified at each other.
“She’s definitely gonna want a tour of the house you built with your own two hands, isn’t she?”
I nod in stupefied answer. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Payton…what do I do? I’m totally fucked. I mean unless we go down there and p—”
“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence. I worked my ass off on that room.”
I nod. “I know and it’s perfect.” A thought occurs to me, but a glance at the time has me squeezing my eyes shut tight and swallowing a highly aggravated shout.
“What?”
“Well, I was thinking I could run to the hardware store and buy a doorknob that locks and replace the one already on there for the time being, but I think all they have in right now are levered handles or deadbolts, like for a front door, and I don’t have enough time to run into Blue Jay or Arrowhead.” Then an adapted lightbulb goes off in my head. “Although, I could swap the knob from the downstairs bathroom door with that one…”
“Yeah, but how do you explain why the door is locked and why you won’t unlock it to show her when she asks, because you know she will…I mean I would.”
“So, I just say…what? That you mistakenly put the wrong knob on because we were in a hurry to finish, and you locked it to make sure it was all lined up correctly, but in the mess of moving and unpacking, we can’t find any of those little keys to unlock it and because the room isn’t really being used for anything right now and is more or less empty, it hasn’t been a priority to go get a key from the store.”
“Brother, I don’t know if I should be proud or disturbed. ‘Cause I mean, aside from blaming me, you’re an exceptional liar, you know that?”
I shrug. “Well, I figure having spent more than two decades perfecting my craft by lying to myself, I would hope to be at least a little adept at lying to everyone else by now.”
“Proud it is then.”
The doorknob is exchanged, the room is locked up tight, relieved sighs are heaved, and I’m able to take a quick shower while Payton straightens up the rest of the house and starts on dinner. Emerging from my bathroom all sparkly clean, I have to laugh at myself for feeling like a ridiculously eager teenage girl who’s getting ready for her first formal dance, anticipating it to be the best night of her life. When my mouth starts watering as I look at the clock and take in the aroma of cow being broiled to melt-in-your-mouth perfection, though, I stop laughing and I shrug, not caring in the least anymore that a single impending dinner with a woman has turned me into an even bigger girly-man than my gay best friend.
I climb the stairs while pondering what game face I should wear this evening, although rounding the corner into my living room and seeing Payton sprawled on my couch watching Monday Night Football in his comfy sweats and with a beer in his hand, my face loses all trace of any game whatsoever and becomes a confused blank. I mean he’s even got a TV tray in front of him that has a piping hot plate of dinner and a lit candle on it.
“Um…I don’t even know what it is about this scene that’s the most confusing…that you’re wearing stained sweat pants, that you went ahead and dished up your food before Erica is even here, and seriously, a TV tray? Is that even allowed by your kind?”
“She had to cancel, dude,” he tells me over his shoulder, “Your dinner is keeping hot in the microwave, though.” Then he reaches down and pulls out a beer from the cool
er at his feet and tosses it to me, patting the cushion next to him in invitation. “You want me to light a candle for your tray too?”
Openmouthed, I struggle for words and just shake my head, not knowing what else to say or do. “She cancelled? You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re just playing a really mean joke or trying to one up me on the lying thing.”
“Wish I were, bro. She sent me a text when you were in the show—”
“Wait, she sent you a text? What the hell?”
“Hey, calm down, would ya? I had to give her your address somehow you know, and neither of us had anything to write with while we were standing in the bread aisle for Christ’s sake, so I got her number and texted it to her. It’s not a big deal, and just so you know, I heard your phone go off when mine did. I didn’t snoop, but I’m guessing it was her.”
I stalk over to the alcove adjacent to the living room that’s serving as my office for the time being and grab my phone from the desk. Sure enough, I have a text and a missed call from Erica. She hadn’t left a message so I don’t even get to hear her voice. Her text simply explains that her job interview got pushed back and she won’t be able to make it tonight.
Utterly deflated and irked, I toss my phone back on the desk as I collapse dejected into the rolling chair. “So, did you text her back already or what?”
“Yep, and you’ll be happy to hear that I took what you said earlier under advisement and left the ball in her court.”
Oh, Jesus Christ…
“Meaning…?”
“I told her we understood, and to let us know when would be good for her as far as rescheduling. So, there…now when she comes over, it won’t be because she feels obligated to accept an impromptu invitation. You’re welcome. Now, quit moping and go eat before it gets cold.”