It was very like the last time we met. There was this strange gap in communication, which didn’t bother me exactly, but I wondered if it was the way Matt always dealt with things. He didn’t need to check in with me, it was clear. He knew I was eager to come.
This would be different. It wasn’t a hotel. It was his home.
But it was still essentially about sex, I reminded myself. He wanted to have sex with me. I couldn’t have any illusions about that. I wanted it too.
My thighs tightened, thinking of his warm body atop mine, his rough hair against my cheek. Surrendering to him. That moment when I’d had to will myself to do it. It had been worth it, I thought. He was worth it.
A touch on my shoulder made me jump. Vic had come up behind me. He swung himself up on the wall. His eyes were merry, his face unusually relaxed.
“Hey!” he announced.
“What’s up?” I said, facing him. I could have sworn he was tipsy, but he didn’t drink, as far as I knew.
“Just went out to lunch with Mike and Wendy,” he said with a grin. “Guess what? We’re getting married—Elena and me.”
“Oh. Oh, cool,” I said, trying to look less surprised and more pleased. “Congratulations.”
“You’re invited to the wedding. If you’ll come,” he added. “It’ll be a big, crazy family thing in June. Daly City.”
“Uh, yeah. Absolutely.”
“You can bring... Aaron, is it? Or, you know, whoever.”
He shot me a funny look and for some reason a blush tinged my cheek. He couldn’t know about Matt. But he had always had weird timing, and perhaps a sixth sense.
“I’ll bring a date,” I said, clearing my throat. “Probably male.”
This tickled him and he burst out laughing. Asians laughed in an endearing way, I thought. I must have been looking at him fondly because he leaned forward and said, “I like you, man.”
It was my turn to laugh. “OK, Vic, you need to go find Elena. You’re horny.” I’d never been that free with him, but on this day it seemed all right.
He swung down off the wall, gazing up at me for a moment. “It was time to get married,” he said. “Mike and Wendy were so nice about it. Maybe you’ll get married too one day?”
“I doubt it,” I said without thinking. I flushed then.
“Problems with Aaron?” he asked quietly, leaning against the wall near me.
“Yep. Some stuff.” I tried to keep it as vague as possible.
“That always happens,” he declared, waving his hand. “You hang tight and you get through it.”
It had worked for him, if “working” meant he’d kept his relationship.
“You really sure about this, Vic?” I said suddenly.
He sighed, looking at me.
“Yeah, Dave. Trust me, it’s OK, you know.”
There was no point in telling him what Janine had seen in Mike’s office. He knew it all, it was clear, and I didn’t understand how he could be happy, but maybe for him it was a turning of the page, a way of making everything neat and tidy, a before and after instead of a continuous, muddied present.
I was old enough to know that life didn’t work like that. That what had happened with Mike and Wendy would leak into their relationship. Of course it would.
“Are you staying on here, Vic?” I asked.
He smiled up at me almost shyly, bumping my leg with his fist in a clumsy gesture of affection.
“Yeah, I’ve got no plans to leave. Don’t worry about that.”
“No, it was more that... maybe it would be good for both of you to get away.”
“You think?” he said inscrutably. His poker face was returning, but he seemed amused by me.
“Well, it’s what I’d do. But don’t mind me.”
“I don’t have your issues,” he said. I looked down at him in shock. I could barely hear him.
“My issues?”
“Your anger,” he clarified. “You’re even angry with them on my behalf. But why bother?”
Our eyes met.
“It’s all good,” he added with finality.
“Got it. Right,” I said, nodding.
“Elena feels the same.” He had a faint smile on his face as he said this. “I’ll see you back in there.”
I nodded again, watching him walk back across the road to the Court of Honor, past Rodin’s Thinker, whose dark, hunched-over body I glanced at every day.
The golf balls thwacked away behind me.
Maybe Vic wasn’t going to leave. But I was restless. I’m literally on the fence, I thought, looking down at my pale hands. These agile hands, which for so many years had pulled drinks for people, wiped counters, given change, seemed too idle in this job.
Hang tight, Vic had said. The problem is that I wanted to keep it all: the sweet place on Elsie Street, Aaron’s constant love, and Matt’s ongoing desire. This job too, but without Mike’s and Wendy’s ambiguous presences, just the simple, beautiful space of the Museum day in and day out, filling up and emptying. But you couldn’t have that, I thought, you had to face down the dark stuff as well. Looking at the sculpture again, I wondered if that was exactly what its creator had meant to imply.
I heard my name shouted from a distance. Glancing up, I saw Wendy’s trim form from about forty feet away, standing with a key fob in her hand. She gave me a smile and a wave.
I raised my arm stiffly in response.
She ducked into the car and pulled out. As she did so, I thought I glimpsed Mike in the passenger seat, a bland smile on his face.
Well, good. They were gone for the day. And soon I’d see Matt.
***
The trip over the Golden Gate was interesting, as the fog had rolled in and I could barely see the water on either side of the bridge. I liked it. It was a combination of harsh and gentle that you really couldn’t find anywhere else, I thought. My thoughts were spacey and I was anxious, but there was a strange peace underlying it all because I trusted my connection with Matt. It had lasted this long, I thought, and surely there was a reason for it. I just couldn’t see where this was going. Not yet.
The foghorn sounded.
On the other side of the bridge, the air cleared quickly, and I felt even better as I took the Spencer Avenue exit.
I’d bypassed the town and the commuter traffic. The hills rose around me, and I felt safe, though the car sputtered and protested.
I stopped the car near his house. My throat was tight with mingled panic and anticipation.
I got out, stretched.
I could see his house now, and the dark bay beyond. It was deliciously silent up here, just the wind in the trees, a faint tapping sound as the drizzle hit wet leaves. It smelt good, fresh.
I walked slowly toward his door. The houses here were spaced comfortably apart, with large driveways that could accommodate two vehicles. There were two cars in the driveway. Two Subarus, one an SUV with a roof rack. I smiled. Matt and his mom both drove them. That was endearing.
At the frosted-glass door, I hesitated. I checked my watch. 6:55. I was five minutes early.
My throat tightening, I pressed the buzzer.
A figure was at the door then. A woman in her early sixties, elegant and well-preserved, in a coat. She had weary brown eyes.
“You must be Dave, oh yes, I remember. I’m Elaine Cohen.”
I smiled. “Hello, yes. Good to...” I was about to say “meet you,” but I had met her ten years ago. I faltered.
Behind her was Matt. She turned to give him a peck on the cheek and then said, “I’ll be back much later on.”
“Take your time, Mom,” Matt said easily.
She nodded and slipped past me, giving me a polite smile. I wouldn’t have said she was cold, yet it wasn’t the warmest greeting either, and I wondered what she knew.
Matt looked thinner than he had at the hotel, and different somehow. Subdued. Our eyes were locked together and I barely heard Mrs. Cohen’s car drive off.
“Come in. You mustn�
�t mind Mom. She’s shy.”
Shy wasn’t the word I would have used, but the house was filled with a delicious smell and I entered. Matt closed the door, his body near mine. His clothes were casual yet expensive, a thin wool sweater, dark pants.
We hugged silently.
“You hungry?” he asked. “We’ll eat first.”
I followed him to the kitchen. There was lasagna and green salad and Matt poured us both a glass of wine.
“Sit,” Matt said, smiling faintly. “This is weird...”
“No, it looks the same.” I forced myself to speak. It was a comfortable house, a family home, and I looked around as much as I needed to, to get my bearings, which wasn’t much. I mostly focused on Matt, who was serving me with precise care. I remembered the hotel room, the little bottles of wine. It was different from Aaron’s ways; he had always given so much, even on the first night we met. I thought about Aaron without even a pang.
Matt sat beside me, close enough to reach out and touch.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his crystal wine glass against mine.
I just nodded, swallowing the inky liquid. This was so strange. Perhaps he would tell me that Taylor and he were about to get back together.
“The house used to be more cheerful,” Matt mused. “Do you remember it that way?”
“I remember it being filled with light, which is strange, cuz it was November.”
“It was a pretty fall that year,” Matt said.
November of 2000, when we had first kissed, touched. I smiled, looking down at my plate.
“Do you like it?” Matt asked. “I made it, actually.”
“You cook.” I looked at him. “Wow, I thought your mom...”
“No, she’s stopped cooking dinner most nights. That was one of the rules when I came back home. I had to shop and fend for myself. That’s fine, it’s good experience.”
He savored the wine.
“The wine’s amazing,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a pinot noir from Sonoma, we have about a hundred of them in the cellar. My dad loved this wine and stocked up like crazy sometime in the late ’90s. He got ten cases and then...” Matt’s voice trailed off.
“It’s good you appreciate it,” he added. “Mom and I don’t drink much, but I do think of him every time I open a bottle.”
“It’s aged well,” I murmured.
Silence. Our forks tinkled against the plates.
“I’m dying to have a smoke, to be honest with you,” Matt said, pushing his food around the plate. “I didn’t smoke all day because I wanted to get the food right. How was your day?”
“You had the day off?” I asked, puzzled.
He nodded.
“It was good, I guess. A co-worker, kind of my supervisor, told me he was getting married, so that was a shock.”
“Why shocking?” Matt asked. His eyes didn’t leave my face.
“Oh, well, it’s complicated, but I found out his fiancée has been sleeping with my boss, Mike. Mike Malone.”
Matt let out a slow breath.
“Huh. I remember that name. Mike and Wendy, right? They used to be friends with my parents back in the day.”
I nodded dumbly. His lips were distracting me, and just his nearness was hard to take.
“They weren’t good friends of ours; I just saw them socially a few times when I was about ten, twelve. Mike always seemed kind of creepy.”
“You picked that up?” I said with a smile. “He is. It’s a long story, but he was also briefly involved with my ex. Janine. Before she and I split.”
I wasn’t even sure I’d ever mentioned Janine’s name to him. But now was the time for names, I thought. This wasn’t the time to be secretive or hold back.
“Talking about splitting,” Matt said, glancing at me, his fingers busy with a dinner roll, “Taylor and I are officially over.”
I said nothing.
“Not divorced yet, of course. But we both told the therapist last week that we’re done, we want out.”
“You want to talk about it?” I asked.
“Not really.” Matt quirked a smile. “I’d rather do other stuff. But I had to tell you.”
I looked down, steeling myself.
“Aaron and I are having problems too,” I said. “I think it’s my fault. Mostly. He confessed an infidelity—but I was unfaithful first.”
“With me?” Matt’s eyes were huge and serious.
“Yeah. Only with you.” I had to force the words out. “But, you know—we were OK for a while after that. I don’t really understand why things started to go wrong. I told him I wanted to see Janine again. He was fine with it. He said it was OK if I saw you as well. But he’s been dabbling in prescription meds more and more. To the point where...”
“You’re scared,” Matt said quickly.
“I am, because everything he does seems connected to what I’m doing, yet the drugs freak me out so much, I can’t handle it.”
I was clenching my knife. I dropped it with a self-conscious laugh.
“No, drugs are nothing to play around with,” Matt said slowly. “But I realize the hypocrisy of saying that.”
“You smoke weed. It’s different.”
“Taylor didn’t think so. I make it look OK, but I do need it.”
I nodded. “I drink too much...”
Suddenly we were laughing and the tension was broken. I’d only eaten half my meal.
“It’s delicious, honestly, but...”
“We can come back to it later,” Matt said gently. “I have to smoke outside now, Mom’s rules. Bring your wine.”
His orders were reassuring, if anything. I nodded.
***
We stood outside looking at the covered pool, where we had swum together once. I remembered Matt’s lithe brown body in the water. God, he’d been gorgeous.
The solar lights were on, and there were comfortable chairs. Matt turned on some sort of brazier-type thing. I noticed his joint, ashtray, and lighter lying on a table under a canopy. We sat down at the table. I sipped my wine, watching him light up. I felt peaceful at last, content to go with the flow.
“You look good,” Matt said in a low voice. “Of course you always do, to me.”
“Likewise,” I said airily.
Pause.
He drew in a deep breath and offered me the joint as he exhaled.
I shook my head. “A contact high will be enough.”
His eyes crinkled but he said nothing.
“Yeah, the honeymoon was a disappointment,” he mused. “I just didn’t enjoy being alone with Taylor, and the way we’d been with each other before, the rapport we had—it was gone. Being married made her really demanding. And I’d met her mother, so I recognized that attitude, where it came from. She’s spoilt. I mean, I knew it before. She just always made me feel like I was in on the joke when we were dating. But when she started being obnoxious with me, it didn’t sit well.”
I thought about Aaron, how good he was, how I still loved him despite everything.
And yet.
Matt and I were facing each other now, and the difference in intensity was notable. He was relaxed, his hazel eyes searching mine.
“So, yeah, I haven’t gotten laid for a while,” he joked.
“I’ll be happy to help,” I said quietly. He froze and we stared at each other.
“Dave, I don’t want to do it here.”
I just looked at him.
“Not because—”
“It’s your mom coming back,” I said. “I get it.”
“No,” he said carefully, “she’s always very discreet and sleeps on the ground floor now. But more that... I don’t want to rush it.”
“Oh,” I said, biting my lip.
“Don’t be pissed with me. It’s just, I rushed it when we met at the hotel and I kind of hate thinking about that.”
“Why?” I asked. “I don’t hate thinking about it. It was great!”
He winced. “I felt like I used you
. I mean, it felt wrong later. It’s hard to explain.”
There was silence as we listened to the crickets, the trees.
He seemed emotional, and that scared me. I felt like I was doing a good job of balancing it all, but he had somehow decided how it was going to be. I wondered how he could do that, so soon, but he had always been ahead of me in that respect.
He reached out and clasped my hand. My belly fluttered. I closed my eyes for a moment.
“Don’t get me wrong, we can hang out in my bedroom, and stuff. I just would prefer to take it a little slower.”
I couldn’t let go of his hand. Feelings were washing over me. I glanced up at him, looked down. It was too intense.
“Maybe I should have taken you out to dinner tonight,” Matt said.
“Matt, we aren’t dating.” My words came out rough. “I’m in a relationship. You’re not; I understand that. But I am.”
“And?” Matt asked.
I gulped. “We can get physical, but no dates. I just can’t do that to Aaron.”
“Get physical,” he mused. He was smiling slightly. “I totally blew it with you, didn’t I?”
“No.”
He took another drag of his joint, still holding my hand, his olive skin meshing with my paler one. His warm hand felt good, steady.
“I did,” Matt said. “I wanted to be your first. And I should have been.”
It was super-quiet. The smoke must have reached my lungs as well, because I felt relaxed, sensual. The words lingered on my tongue and came out slowly.
“You were.”
He did a double take, staring at me.
“At the hotel. Aaron’s the only other man I’d ever been with, and he’s a bottom, so...”
I grinned, perversely enjoying his reaction. He let my hand drop.
“Oh, Dave.”
“It’s all right. I just didn’t say it because... it was embarrassing. Here I was, 28... And I thought it didn’t really...”
“You thought it didn’t matter to me.” Matt was staring at me. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”
“I guess,” I said, shrugging. “You seemed pretty convincingly about to get married, you know. To a woman.”
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