by Xavier Mayne
“When did I say I didn’t need friends? I still have friends.”
“But we’re not friends like we used to be.”
“Life is change, bro. We grew up together, and we’ll always be friends. But people grow up and get on with their lives. We can’t live like we’re still all crammed into that old house Jake inherited from his grandma. We’re adults now, and adults get married and stop hanging out every night with their buddies.”
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we didn’t stop hanging out every night. We stopped hanging out. The last time we had breakfast at this diner was the week before you married Mia. We get a drink once in a while, but it’s never ‘let’s just hang,’ it’s always ‘I can give you two hours before I have to go to this thing at Mia’s sister’s house.’ We hardly see each other.”
“We video chat the morning after every date,” Chad reminded him.
“Yeah, we do. From your bed, with your wife right next to you. Like I’m going to tell you what I really think of the woman I had dinner with while she’s there.”
Chad set his fork down for a moment. “So, let me get this straight. The reason you’ve stopped going on dates is that you don’t want to end up married and never seeing your friends again. But now you’re saying we never see each other as it is. I don’t get this at all. I still don’t see what’s changed.”
Fox stared into his coffee cup. “Drew,” he said softly.
“What? What was that?” Chad asked, leaning closer.
“What’s changed is that I met Drew.”
Chad nodded slowly. “And what happened then?”
Fox shook his head. He hadn’t figured out how to explain to himself what had happened then. “We met, and we… we’re friends.”
“And being friends with this guy you met a week ago is more important to you than trying to find a woman you can spend your life with.”
“That’s not it—”
“That seems like exactly it from where I’m sitting,” Chad said flatly.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand,” Chad said, eyebrows peaked imploringly.
Fox was so struck by the warmth in his voice that all he could do at first was take a deep breath and try to figure out how to start.
“I don’t think…” was as far as he got before his train of thought left the tracks and his voice failed him.
“I know,” Chad said. “You don’t think you can tell me. But you can. I got you, Foxy.”
Fox smiled despite his internal turmoil. “Thanks, Chaddy, but that isn’t what I was trying to say. I meant I don’t think that it was a mistake that the computer matched us up.”
Chad lowered his fork hand slowly toward the table. “What does that mean?”
“It means that we sort of… clicked. Q*pid’s AI thing failed spectacularly setting us up with women—we were too much alike, which made it creepy—but it seems like it hit its stride with matching up friends.”
“So he’s basically another you? Super driven, successful, fully funded retirement portfolio, brilliantly white teeth, and never misses a day at the gym?”
Fox frowned. “Actually, he’s getting a PhD in economic history. He cooks lentils and lives for free in a not-great part of town because he takes care of the place for the owner. He doesn’t own a car, and a cloud of white liberal guilt practically swirls around him. So he’s kind of nothing like me. But at the same time we’re, like, completely compatible.”
Chad nodded and gave a kind of squint, like he was working large sums in his head. He did not, however, offer an opinion.
“Dinner last week really surprised me. I thought we’d have a drink, laugh about how ridiculous it was that the computer thought we’d have anything in common, and go our separate ways. But it didn’t work out that way.”
“Okay, I get that. You made a new friend. But how did you end up deciding to give him your ‘best prospects’ dinner experience at Table? You never even asked me to go with you.”
“What was I supposed to do, go home and sit and ponder eternal bachelorhood? Sounds like a great time. Dinner seemed like a better plan.”
“But you didn’t just have dinner, did you? The Jeffs came and did their ‘very good, Mr. Kincade, sir,’ act, and the maître d’ greeted you like a long-lost brother and the sommelier brought you your bottle of house champagne and—”
“Actually,” Fox broke in, “he brought us a bottle of something sparkling and French.”
“You are fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
Chad seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then he frowned and nodded. “So this is love.”
“It’s not love. We’re friends.”
“Friends can love each other. I love you, and I hope you still love me even though I’ve apparently abandoned you by getting married. But you’ve never taken me to Table, and you’ve never used your ‘something sparkling and French’ bit on anyone but a ninety-plus looker with a great rack and an even better brain. Can you sit there and tell me there is no part of you, even down really deep where you can’t even think clearly about it, that thinks about this guy in some way that’s more than friendly?”
“He’s a friend. We’re friends.”
“You keep saying that. And yet you decided, for the first time in fucking years, not to go on a date for the next fucking week.”
Fox shrugged.
“So what did you do last night?”
“Drew invited me over for dinner.”
“And why didn’t he have a date?”
“He said his queue was as bleak as mine.”
Chad shook his head. “I saw your queue. It’s a bumper crop of hotties.” Then he took in a sharp breath and nodded. “Oh, I get it. He probably had his share of babes in his queue too. You both said you had no one to date so you could let yourself off the hook—so you could spend Saturday night together.”
“Interesting theory,” Fox grumbled. “Meanwhile, back in reality, we had dinner at his place.”
“Mm-hmm. Did he order Thai takeout or something?”
“No, he made this Peruvian stew thing, and it was incredible.”
“So he’s a good cook?”
“More than good. I was a little worried when I saw the utter destruction of his kitchen, but as soon as he stuck that spoon in my mouth I knew it was going to be good.”
“He stuck what where?”
Fox glared across the table. “He let me taste the stew while he was finishing it up.”
“No, you said he stuck a spoon in your mouth. Did he put a bib on you before feeding you?”
“Shut up, asshole. It wasn’t like that. He was excited about sharing it with me.”
“I see.” Chad offered no more commentary on the spoon-feeding. “So the food was good, and I’m sure the company was scintillating. Why did you wake up so crunchy this morning?”
Fox sighed. “Because we got a little shit-faced and basically passed out on his couch.”
Chad nodded. “Sounds like your perfect friendship is one where you recreate our college days. Eat cheap, drink too much, pass out. Are you sure this is a good thing?”
“Fuck you,” Fox spat. “It wasn’t like that at all. He made an amazing dinner, and it took a lot of work to make it. I brought some bourbon for after dinner, and we both drank a little too much. But it wasn’t like we were lying in a pool of our own sick or something. We were kind of relaxing on the couch, talking, and then we drifted off.”
“Together, on the couch.”
“Shut up. We weren’t together. We were on opposite ends.” They hadn’t been. When Fox awoke he was pressed so closely to Drew he could feel his heart beat in his own chest, could smell the herbal fragrance of his hair. “So when I woke up, I kind of stumbled out and headed home. And this morning I had a hangover, not an existential crisis. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, is there?” Chad asked ironically.
“If you want to believe th
at somehow this guy I’ve known for a week has turned my life completely fucking upside down, then you go ahead.”
Chad pursed his lips and nodded seriously. “So, my good friend with the right-side-up life, tell me about the woman you’re having dinner with tonight.”
“Who?”
“It’s Sunday. Since your life is completely devoid of existential crisis, surely you have a Sunday date planned. Which of the lucky lovelies in your queue will it be?”
Fox picked up his phone, determined to tap on the first profile that came up out of pure fucking spite. He had to find a way to shut Chad up.
But….
On his phone was a notification. New Message from Drew, it said.
There was a long silence where his heartbeat should be.
“Who died, man?” Chad asked, looking from Fox’s phone to his face and back again.
“It’s nothing.” He opened the Q*pid app and tapped on his queue. That’s when a second notification popped up. Another message. From Drew.
“Hang on—work thing,” Fox said as he got up from the booth. “I gotta take care of this. Be right back.”
He felt Chad’s eyes burning into his back as he walked the length of the diner toward the restrooms. Once he’d turned the corner and was safely out of view, he tapped on the message.
Hey, you okay? Sorry about crashing on you.
Fox smiled and typed back, No worries. I think I crashed on you first.
He stared at the message window, desperate to see the flashing icon that told him Drew was typing back. It started to throb, and he started to breathe again.
Haha. That was some strong stuff.
Fox smiled. Or maybe we’re lightweights.
That’s gotta be it, Drew answered. Hey, there’s a concert on campus tonight that seems like it might be cool. Want to go?
Fox froze, holding his phone with his fingertips like it was a ticking time bomb. Where the adrenaline rush came from—and what possible function it could serve—he had no idea, but he knew what his answer would be.
Hell yeah. What time?
Concert’s at 7. It’s like 5 mins from my place.
I’ll come at 6 and bring dinner.
Fox stared at the words, horror dawning on him. He had just turned this into a date.
Drew wasn’t typing. Fox wasn’t breathing. Then finally, the icon flashed again. Fox winced, terrified to read what would come next.
That sounds awesome! See you at 6. :)
The breath Fox drew in that moment was the kind normally experienced only by those fished from under the ice of a frozen lake. It was sharp and fresh and painful and life-giving all at once.
And in place of all of the anxiety over his conversation with Chad, he felt happiness surge into his chest. Happiness that he knew he could never hope to describe to Chad, but it was real nonetheless. He stuck his phone into his pocket and walked back to the table.
“Everything okay?” Chad asked as Fox slid back into the booth.
“Yeah, everything’s good.”
“Is this what work is like for you all of a sudden? Getting paged on the weekend? That kind of sucks.”
“It’s not that bad,” Fox replied, as dismissively as he could. “Now, where were we?”
“Don’t you have people on your team who are on call on the weekends? I thought that was something you didn’t have to do anymore.”
“It was something that they needed me to….” Fox’s mouth ran dry with lying, and he knew he had to give up on the charade. “Look. It wasn’t work that messaged me.”
Chad nodded. His bullshit detector was as finely honed as it had ever been. “It was him, wasn’t it? He woke up and wondered where you’d gone?” A knowing grin began to emerge.
“No, it wasn’t like that. He wanted to be sure I was okay, since when I left he was still sleeping.”
Chad’s smile widened. “That’s really sweet. I’m happy for you.”
“Why are you happy for me?”
“You found a good one. A guy who calls the next day even if you’ve only spooned on the couch with him.”
“I never said we spooned on the couch,” Fox objected.
Chad fixed him with a searing glare. “I know you, Foxy. I know what you’re telling me and what you aren’t.”
Fox returned to his default posture of wronged glowering.
“Tell me what last night was like. Paint me a picture of this new friendship.”
Though he felt mocked by Chad’s supercilious skepticism, Fox considered for a moment whether it might not be helpful to have his perspective on the entire evening. He decided to take a leap and tell the story.
“He messaged me on Friday and said he didn’t have any good prospects in his queue, and I said I didn’t either—”
“Which we’ve established is a lie,” Chad interrupted. “Just so we’re clear.”
“We’ve established that we have different views of the quality of the women in my queue. That’s as far as I’ll go.” Fox casually scooped up the last bite of sweet-potato hash to clearly convey that he would entertain no more objections. “So I go to his place, and it’s in that kind of rough area between the campus and the barren stretch that runs all the way downtown. Where all the co-ops are.”
“Ugh, I can smell the patchouli still.”
“His building is a newer one—probably the newest on the block. And it’s decent, small but in okay shape. And like I said, he gets his rent comped by taking care of the place. So I park in his parking spot, since he doesn’t have a car, and then I walk to his front door carrying twelve bottles of beer and two whites and two reds because I don’t know what he’s making for dinner, and then the bottle of barrel-strength bourbon I had someone I worked with in Kentucky last year FedEx me—”
“You’ve never put half that much effort into dinner with me,” Chad objected. “I’m kind of jealous now.”
“Shut up. It was really nice of him to invite me, and he’s obviously dirt poor, so I wanted to bring him something nice.”
“A metric fuck-ton of something nice, it sounds like.” Chad’s face was all sunny cheer, so clearly he didn’t feel genuinely slighted.
“I got to his place and held out the drinks I’d brought. He, uh… thought I was, like, going for a hug or something, and all of a sudden his arms are around me.”
“Oh, awkward,” Chad said, wincing.
“Yeah,” Fox said, staring hard into his coffee cup. He took an uneasy breath. “No, it wasn’t awkward. It was… nice.”
“Nice?”
Fox’s heart was pounding. “It was sweet. And it was genuine. And it made me feel… nice.”
“And did you hug him back? Nicely?”
Fox took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did.”
“And how was it? Nice?”
Fox swallowed hard to keep his pancakes in place. “Yes. It was nice.”
Chad nodded. “What happened next?”
“We drank a couple of beers, had his amazing Peruvian stew for dinner, and then drank too much bourbon after that. The next thing I knew I was waking up basically on top of—” He stopped short with a sharp breath.
“On top of… Drew?”
Fox was furious with himself, but could think of no stratagem to unwind his having said too much. He slumped, defeated. “We sort of crashed out on his couch, I guess. Didn’t really take account of the bourbon being barrel strength. Stuff is like 140 proof.”
“So you sat on his couch and drank yourselves unconscious?”
“No, that’s not what it was like. We talked about a ton of stuff. The more I get to know him, the more I think Q*pid had it right. I would never have imagined I’d have so much in common with a PhD student in history who cooks authentic South American peasant cuisine and feels personally wounded by our country’s lack of action on climate change. But being with him is this constant process of discovering things I like about him. And that’s kind of… nice.” Fox poked at the last triangle of pancake o
n his plate. “It reminds me of freshman year when we’d stay up all night talking about all kinds of shit, pretending we didn’t have to get up for calculus at eight.”
“Don’t really have the stamina for all-nighters anymore, do we?” Chad said with a laugh. “Getting old sucks, man.”
Fox nodded, but he honestly didn’t feel old—in fact, spending time with Drew had made him feel younger than he had in a long time.
“So, you going to see him again?” Chad asked.
“‘See’ him again? You keep trying to make it sound like we’re dating. We’re not dating. As the T-shirt will shortly proclaim, I’m Still Not Gay.”
“That proves it. You’re seeing him again. When?”
Fox cast a weary look out the window, hoping for a dumpster fire or other happy event that could arrest the unrelenting downward slide of this entire conversation. Unfortunately, nothing was currently burning in the diner’s parking lot, so he turned back to Chad. “Tonight, it so happens.”
Chad’s eyebrows danced up. “Tonight? And when were you going to mention that? Did you make plans before getting plowed on high-proof Kentucky moonshine last night?”
“No, he asked me a few minutes ago. There’s a concert on campus that he thought I might want to go to.”
“And you said yes.”
Fox gave a half shrug, half nod that he hoped looked like very casual interest.
“Because you love music.”
“I listen to music,” Fox retorted in his own defense.
“And this concert—what kind of music will it be? Is it someone I’ve heard of?”
Fox very deliberately set his coffee mug at the edge of the table where the waitress would be able to see that what he needed right now was more coffee, because why else does one come to a damn diner for breakfast?
“You have no idea what kind of a concert you’ve signed on for, do you?”
Fox gave a kind of twitching shake of his head to show how little Chad’s prosecutorial question flustered him.