Andy's Song

by Beth Burnett

  She’s smiling, but I can’t tell if she’s really happy with the idea or if she has just decided not to argue about it. That’s the problem with women. Sometimes, you have to struggle to figure out what the hell they’re thinking. I reach over and take her hand as I drive toward Lakewood.

  “It will be fun,” I promise. “You’ll see.”

  Steve, Erik, and Maggie are sitting at a table near the window when we walk into the bar. Steve stands up as we approach and kisses Heather on the cheek. Erik gives her a hug and Maggie shakes her hand. I pull out Heather’s chair for her and seat her next to Steve. I’m sitting between her and Maggie. Maggie reaches over as I sit and touches my hand.

  “You’re positively glowing today, Andy.” Her tone is flirtatious.

  “Well, we’ve had a great day.” I smile at Heather. She smiles back.

  “We’ve had a great day, too,” Steve adds. “We went to Roy Johnson’s house.”

  “Who is Roy Johnson?” Heather asks.

  “The richest fag in Cleveland,” Erik grins. “Lives in a huge mansion on the lake. Ginormous swimming pool with a swim up bar. He even has house boys in bikinis.”

  House boys in bikinis. “Maggie, that must have been thrilling for you.”

  She chuckles. “I don’t mind firm young bodies wandering around nearly naked, no matter what gender they are.

  Heather agrees. “Though I think anyone should be celebrated, whether they have young firm bodies, old soft bodies or anything in between.”

  “Ah, you’re an idealist,” Maggie says. “In real life, no one wants to see an old fat woman wandering around in a bikini.”

  “In real life, people who judge others for being comfortable in their own skin are the ones who have the problem.”

  “Please,” Maggie scoffs. “You’re telling me that if some overweight ninety-year-old came walking in here right now in a bikini, it wouldn’t faze you?”

  “Anyone walking into a restaurant in a bikini would make me pause. Not because of how the person looks, but because it isn’t common practice in a restaurant. On a beach, however, I see all kinds of bodies in every kind of outfit imaginable and none of them bother me.”

  Putting my hand over Heather’s, I lean over and kiss her cheek. “I wish I could be so non-judgmental.”

  “You can be,” Heather insists. “It’s simply a matter of stopping yourself every time you catch yourself judging someone by their looks.”

  Steve shakes his head. “In an ideal world, we would all be like that. In real life, it’s hard. What about child molesters? What about rapists? How do you not judge them?”

  Heather looks serious. “I still do. I know it’s not my place to judge them, but when I read a story about something like that, I am still judging the criminal. Maybe that’s something I need to work on within myself, but in the meantime, at least I cannot unfairly judge people by something as superficial and shallow as the way they look.”

  Maggie reaches around me to pat Heather on the hand. “That’s very sweet, child. Noble, even.”

  “Maggie,” I warn.

  “What?” She gives me a look of exaggerated innocence. “I do think it is a noble trait.”

  Heather shrugs. “One of the worst things we do to each other is judge each other for the way we look. Women are the most vicious perpetrators.”

  Erik interjects. “I don’t know about that. Gay men are horrible to each other. You should hear the catty comments I was hearing at the pool party today.”

  Steve nods. “It’s true. Gay men are pretty hard on each other, too. Thank God I’m married to a man who loves me the way I am.”

  “I do,” Erik says, taking Steve’s hand. “But it helps that you’re incredibly gorgeous.”

  “With a pot belly,” Steve answers.

  “I love your belly.”

  “Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. “Stop with the mushy stuff already.”

  “Oh, Andy, don’t be such a cynic. You were pretty mushy yourself back in the day.”

  Heather smiles. “She’s pretty mushy now, too. She just doesn’t tend to do it in public.”

  “I guess some things never change,” Maggie answers.

  Time to step in. “So, I’m thinking of getting mozzarella sticks. Who wants to share them?”

  Maggie shakes her head. “We ate at the party. Besides, I don’t eat that processed and deep fried shit.”

  “I’ll share some with you, Andy,” Heather says. “I’d like to get the Portobello mushroom burger, too.”

  “That’s good here,” Steve says. “So are the sweet potato fries.”

  “Done.”

  The waitress comes over to take our order and bring another round of drinks. Heather and Steve are giggling over a dirty joke that Erik just told. Maggie touches my hand again.

  “I’m not trying to be an asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

  “I know you’re not.”

  Heather reaches for my hand and I entwine my fingers into hers.

  “Maggie,” Heather says. “I understand that you consider yourself a spiritual searcher.”

  Maggie shrugs. “No, I consider myself a spiritual person. I’ve already found my beliefs. I don’t need to search for them.”

  Heather nods. “I always refer to myself as a searcher because I feel I’m constantly learning. Recently, I’ve been spending a lot of time reading up on vibrational healing and energy manipulation.”

  Erik smiles. “I saw that movie about positive thinking and changing your vibrations, but I just couldn’t get into it. If that was the case, wouldn’t we all be perfectly healthy?”

  “Not if you don’t practice guiding your thoughts toward health every day,” Heather responds.

  “It all sounds a little hokey to me,” Steve says. “I don’t want to discount your beliefs. But the idea that we can draw whatever we want into our lives just by thinking about it is pretty difficult to swallow. I’ve fantasized about being a millionaire almost every day of my life, and I’m still broke.”

  “You’re broke because you work for a non-profit, Steve,” I note. “You should be happy that you’re saving lives.”

  “I am happy about that. I just wouldn’t mind saving lives and being wealthy.”

  Erik smiles fondly. “If you were wealthy, you might not still be saving lives.”

  “I might be saving more lives,” Steve says.

  The waitress brings our food, and I lean back in my chair to make room for her. Heather picks up a mozzarella stick. I grab a couple of her sweet potato fries.

  I’ve been trying to stay out of this conversation because I am one of the least qualified people in the world to address spirituality. But here goes. “I’m not sure what I believe in. I believe that energy never ceases. That’s a scientific fact. I believe that humans consist of energy. I believe there is a strong possibility that we have souls. The rotting hunks of flesh that comprise our bodies cannot be all there is to us. But whether there is a god or multiple gods or super-intelligent alien beings that created us in a test tube, I don’t know. I don’t think any of us really know. And frankly, I don’t think we’ll ever know, at least not until we’re dead, and by then, it’s too late to tell anyone.”

  Steve nods. “I completely agree with you.”

  Heather looks upset. “So you think there’s no point in even trying to find out?”

  “No. Quite the contrary. I think as humans, it is our natural state to want to find things out. I think we want to know why we’re here and what our purpose is and whether or not all of this has a deeper meaning.”

  Maggie shakes her head. “Yes, but you can’t sacrifice the now in the search for the after. I believe in experiencing life as it is right now. I am grateful for waking up this morning and being able to draw in a breath. I do believe in the creator, but I don’t believe that the creator needs for us to understand our purpose in this life in order for us to fulfill it.”

  Erik grins at Maggie. “So, the whole purpose of life is to
have a good time?”

  “Not necessarily. You just need to live every day with the knowledge that it could be your last and just enjoy it to the fullest. Don’t waste your time trying to figure out what it all means.”

  Heather gives her a steady look. “I don’t consider it a waste of time to work at understanding what it all means. I think the more we learn in this lifetime, the more evolved we’ll be in the next.”

  Steve takes a long swallow of his cocktail. “Now, don’t start talking about reincarnation. I have a hard enough time with this life.”

  Heather smiles at him. “I’ll leave it alone. I just think it’s important to keep looking. How will you know what to believe if you don’t spend time looking for the truth?”

  Maggie reaches over to my plate and takes my dill pickle. “I already know the truth. We need to love one another.”

  “That doesn’t jive with what you were saying earlier about fat women in bikinis.” Heather still has an even tone to her voice, but I can tell she’s irritated.

  “My whole point,” I say calmly, “is that it doesn’t matter what you believe. It just matters that you do what feels right to you. If your thing is to search, then search. If your thing is to go to church, then go to church. I think Leah would consider herself a spiritual searcher, and she’s one of the most loving people I know.”

  Steve nods. “I love her.”

  “Me, too.” Heather and Erik respond at once and then laugh at each other.

  “She is a treasure,” I say.

  “She’s a Scorpio,” Maggie says, dryly. “She had no choice but to be interesting.”

  Heather laughs. “As am I.”

  “I was just wondering about that,” I say. “When is your birthday?”

  “November thirteenth,” Heather answers.

  “Andy, please don’t tell me you’re getting into this whole astrology thing.” Steve is rolling his eyes.

  “Not at all. You just can’t grow up around Leah without learning a thing or two about it.”

  I stand up to go to the bathroom, detouring over to our server to drop off my credit card. I don’t want Heather to get the check while I’m gone. I hear the bathroom door open as I go into my stall.

  “It’s just me,” Maggie calls.

  I don’t answer. I’ve never understood that female compulsion to join each other in the bathroom. I don’t consider it a social room. I consider it a place to do your business and get out. I’m washing my hands when Maggie comes out of the stall.

  “Your girlfriend seems very nice,” she says.

  Holding my hands over the hot air, I ignore her.

  “Oh, come on, Andy,” Maggie cajoles. “I was just playing with her.”

  “You were being condescending.”

  “I didn’t mean to be.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She smiles softly. “I’m sorry. I meant to be nice. It was just kind of hard to see you being so sweet and loving with someone that isn’t me.”

  “You have always been sweet and loving with everyone that wasn’t me.”

  “I was sweet and loving with you, too.”

  “Maggie, that was so long ago, it barely counts as having happened.”

  “Really?” She raises her eyebrow. “I disagree. Some days, it seems so clear, I’m sure it was just yesterday.”

  “If it was just yesterday, these wrinkles sure popped up overnight.”

  She laughs. “You’ve barely aged a minute.”

  “Maggie, just be nice to Heather. I like her a lot.”

  “Yeah, she seems like a good kid.”

  We walk toward the door, and I reach over her head to open it for her. She glances up at me before walking out.

  “Just be careful. She might be gunning for a ring already.”

  “She’s actually a really nice person.”

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t.” She laughs. “I remember when I was young and idealistic, too.”

  “And now you’re old and bitter?”

  “Old, yes. Bitter, not at all. Though I have been wondering lately if there’s more to life than pursuing my own pleasure.”

  “I hope not. You’ve been on that path your whole life.”

  “I’ve never lied to anyone. I’ve never tried to be something I’m not.”

  I shrug. “That’s what I always tell myself, too.”

  “Then it must be true.”

  I grin. “We need to get together soon.”

  She trails her hand across my waist as she slips past me. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Maybe.”

  The waitress intercepts me on my way by, so I stop to sign the receipt and leave a tip. Watching Maggie as she makes her way through the room and back to our table, I’m struck by how gracefully she moves. She has aged some in twenty years-- there is no denying that. But somehow, her gray hair and the lines on her face just serve to make her look even more beautiful. I had forgotten how tiny she is. Standing next to her makes me feel tall and strong. I grab the receipt and move toward the table.

  Maggie smiles up at me as I approach. “We were just trying to convince Heather that you two need to come out dancing with us.”

  Heather shakes her head. “I explained that we have other plans, but they won’t let it go.”

  Steve grins. “Come on. It’s Friday night. It’s too early to go home and watch TV.”

  “Watching TV wasn’t in my plans,” I respond.

  Erik giggles. “You can have sex later. Let’s go to Dick’s and dance.”

  Heather shrugs. “It isn’t often that I get invited to places with male genitalia in the name.”

  Maggie lays a hand on my arm. “Come on, Andy. Don’t be so boring. You know it will be packed.”

  Heather looks half-convinced. I run my hand across her face to brush a piece of hair out of her eyes. “What do you think?”

  She smiles. “I did enjoy dancing with you at the ball.”

  “It won’t be that kind of dancing tonight,” I say, smiling. Turning to Steve and Erik, I nod. “Okay, we’ll see you guys over there.”

  Heather slips her hand into mine as we go out the door. In the car, I turn to her. “Are you sure you want to go? I can text them and tell them we changed our minds.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I do want to go. It will be fun to dance with you. Plus, I love watching sweaty gay guys get their groove on.”

  “You can put it in your next book.”

  She laughs. “Since my next book is a look at classic literature through the lens of various literary theories, I highly doubt it.”

  “I don’t know. Sweaty gay men might fall into post-colonialism.”

  “Only if they’re ethnic.”

  “Those wild-eyed French theorists might like the idea of looking at literature through the lens of sweaty dancing gay men.”

  “Foucault would be proud. I may have a new lean for my book.”

  We drive into a gritty part of town. The bar is in a converted warehouse. It’s gorgeous and huge with several floors. The dance floor takes up most of the entire first floor, with an elevated balcony where people can sit and watch the shenanigans. I’ve seen more public gay sex on that dance floor than I care to remember. Still, it will be fun to get down with Heather. When we danced together at the ball, she moved well and responded easily to my lead. Though I don’t think we’ll be doing any ballroom dancing at Dick’s, I have no doubt that we’ll find an easy rhythm with each other.

  There aren’t any parking places near the building, so I swing down a side street and tell Heather to keep an eye out. We pass a couple of smallish places near the curb. I’m a pretty fair hand at parallel parking, but I don’t think I can get this monster into those tiny spaces. We turn down another street and there’s a wide open stretch of curb parking. Pulling up to the curb, I take off my seat belt and lean over to kiss Heather. She turns into the kiss, reaching her hands up to my face. Her hair is soft and my fingers brush through it easily. I lean back a bit to look at
her.

  “Have I told you that you look amazing tonight?”

  She shakes her head. “You most certainly have not.”

  “Heather?” I’m dead serious.

  “Yes?” She looks into my eyes. The light green looks darker in the glare from the street lights. I’m mesmerized.

  “You look amazing tonight.”

  She kisses me gently on the mouth. “Let’s go dance for a little while before you take me home and show me how amazing you think I look.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  We’ve been at Dick’s for a couple of hours, and we’re ready to go. When we got here, Maggie had already found a woman with whom to dance and she was wrapped around her on the dance floor. Steve and Erik were drinking with a big group of guys. They made room for us at their table, but most of the men were already pretty trashed. The conversation was a rowdy one about gay sex. I can hang with the guys most of the time, but I wanted to go home and make love with Heather, and I doubted that listening to detailed descriptions of anal sex and blow jobs would get her in the mood.

  I took her out to the dance floor a couple of times, and as I suspected, she moves like a dream. Her body glided around mine in a mist. I felt as if I barely had to move and she was on me, swirling around me, gyrating her hips against mine. When I pressed my hand into the small of her back, she would thrust against me in time to the music. I knew I wouldn’t last more than a couple of songs before I had to get her out of here.

  Interrupting one of Steve’s friends while he was telling a story about some man he fucked in a porta-potty at Pride last year, I stand up, taking Heather’s hand.

  “Gentlemen, we’re out of here.”

  Heather kisses and hugs the guys. I look around for Maggie to wave goodbye, but I can’t find her. Heather puts her arm around me as we walk out the door.

  “That was a fun night.”

  “Obviously you and I have different definitions of fun.”

  She laughs. “Come on, Andy. I liked dancing with you. The guys were nice. The drinks were good. It was a nice night.”

  The night has gotten cooler. It will be a perfect night to open the windows and let the breeze fill Heather’s apartment. My house is nice on a night like this, too. Though I don’t have much food in my house.