by Liz Wolfe
“Then have dinner with me,” Max suggested.
“We just ate pizza.”
“No, I mean some other time.”
“I think I need to be really up front with you. Max, I’m not sure I’m ready to date.”
Max smiled and nodded. “I know. You’ve mentioned that before. I told you, it’s not a problem for me.”
“Right, I forgot.”
He held up a hand. “That’s not what I meant. I like you, Skye. I enjoy spending time with you. And I’m a patient man. I can wait until you’re ready. But we can still hang out until then, can’t we?”
I hoped he really meant that. Max was easy to be around. He was fun. He was a friend. I needed that. “In that case, come over here for dinner next Saturday night.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’ll be moved in by then.”
“You need help moving?”
“No. Even if I did, you’ve done more than enough. But the furniture is being delivered. All I have to move are a few things from Bobbi Jo’s and some stuff from Craig’s house.” That was the first time I’d thought of it as Craig’s house and somehow it didn’t even feel weird.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you Saturday night. About seven?” Max kissed me on the cheek and opened the door.
“Sounds good.” I waved as he got on the elevator and closed the door wondering why I was disappointed at the kiss. I refused to think about it and turned back to the loft.
I had my own place. My very own place. The thought was astounding to me. I’d never lived on my own. I’d lived with my parents, then in the dorm at college until Craig and I got married. Of course, Sheridan would be with me most of the time, but I wouldn’t be living with a man who took care of me. I’d be on my own. That thought was a little scary and a little exciting. I decided to go with exciting. I’d decorate it the way I liked, I’d have food that I wanted, when I wanted it. No more meals on a schedule for me. I’d pay my own bills.
My bubble of excitement burst. I’d be paying them with Craig’s money. He’d been very generous in the divorce settlement. He’d bought my half of the house and given me more than enough alimony. Not that I wasn’t grateful, but I really wanted to be on my own. I wanted to make my own money. Pay my own way. I’d given up my independence before I’d ever really had it. Now I had an immense hunger for it. I even wanted the hardships that came with it.
But a temp job as a receptionist at little more than minimum wage wouldn’t cut it. I needed more. I needed to go back to school and learn something more useful than art history and design theory. I locked up the loft and drove to Bobbi Jo’s. I was almost too tired to think and could only hope that I’d wake up bursting with job ideas and the energy to follow through on them.
The next morning I slipped out of the house after Lily left for her shop and before Bobbi Jo got up. At Portland Community College, I picked up several brochures and a registration packet and drove to a small coffeehouse to peruse them. After two lattes and a minimum of soul searching, I drove back to the college and enrolled in three courses. A business computer course that taught the popular word processing and spreadsheet programs, a course that promised to give me the skills I needed to reenter the workforce, and a photography course. The first two would hopefully prepare me for a real job and the photography course would give me something to do that I really enjoyed.
I paid the registration fee and drove to Craig’s house. He’d offered to help me move, but I’d finally convinced him that all I needed to do was box up some things and have the movers pick them up. Sheridan was already there, packing some of her own things.
“Hey, Mom. I’m almost finished here.” Sheridan stood in the middle of her room. There were still a few posters of some pop rock groups on the walls. Her bed and furniture was white French provincial. The ruffled yellow curtains matched the bedspread, and there were stuffed animals on a high shelf along one wall.
“I can’t believe we never redecorated your room. It hasn’t really changed since you were thirteen.”
“That’s okay. It’s good to have a room the same for a while. Gives you a sense of security, you know.”
“Do you want to move the furniture to the loft?” I asked. I hadn’t even considered that she might want the security of her own furnishings.
“Are you kidding? No way. I want the new stuff we ordered.” She looked at the small nightstand. “Besides, condoms would look so out of place on this nightstand. I need something more sophisticated.”
“I am not ready for this.”
Sheridan laughed. “Just kidding, Mom.” She turned back to the box she was packing. “I never use condoms. They’re a hassle.”
“Sheridan!”
“It’s a joke, Mom. Relax.” She sat on the bed. “I’m sorry you and Dad broke up, but this is kind of exciting, you know?”
“I know. And don’t be sorry. It was just something that had to happen.”
“Are you really okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” I assured her.
“You don’t hate Dad, do you?”
“Oh, honey, no. It’s not your dad’s fault he’s gay. It’s not even a choice. Although there are times I wish he’d been honest with himself before we got married.”
“No kidding.”
“Still, I think he’s going through something much harder than I am.”
“You’re really cool, Mom.”
“You aren’t just saying that because you want something, are you?”
“That only works on Dad.”
I laughed and swatted her hand. “Finish up in here and then come to the kitchen and help me.”
“Okay.” Sheridan turned back to packing and I walked to the kitchen.
There really wasn’t much I wanted. I opened a lower cabinet and removed my cast-iron skillet and Dutch oven. Craig had set the silver serving platters on the counter. He knew how attached I was to them. He knew a lot about me. I knew a lot about him. But I thought maybe we’d never known the right things about each other.
“Hey, you need any help?”
I turned at the sound of Craig’s voice. “You’re okay with me taking the platters?”
“Sure. I figured you’d want them.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I packed up the rest of your clothes and put them in the garage. And there were some boxes of stuff I thought you’d want.”
“Like what?”
“Really old boxes. Your stuff from college. A couple of boxes of photos that you took.”
“I’d forgotten they were even there.”
I followed Craig through the kitchen to the garage. One of the boxes was opened and I pulled back the cardboard flap to look inside.
“Oh, look.” I pulled out a photograph. “This is from that white-water rafting trip we took before I got pregnant with Sheridan.”
Craig took the photo from me and looked at it. “Damn, you were a feisty thing back then.”
“I’m still a little feisty,” I argued.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it at all. That was a fun trip. Remember when Mike got up to take a leak in the middle of the night?”
“And he thought a bear was chasing him.”
“God, he was a funny sight. Running through the camp with his shorts around his ankles. And it turned out to be a raccoon.”
“A baby raccoon at that!” We both laughed at the memory and it felt good. We’d always been friends, and I liked that we weren’t going to lose that part of our relationship.
“He was so embarrassed when he stopped and everyone was staring at him standing there with his dick hanging out.”
“Well, that’s understandable.”
“You know, Mike is gay. He e-mailed me a couple of years ago. He’s living in San Francisco with a partner.”
“Did you know back then?”
“About Mike? No.” Craig shook his head. “But he did. He told me he only dated stupid girls because they were easier to fool. After college, he married
one of them. But it didn’t last even a year.”
I put the photo back in the box and closed the flap. Craig ripped off a strip of tape and handed it to me.
“Did you know you were gay back then?” I asked.
“I’m not gay.”
“What?” I was surprised that he’d deny it.
“I consider myself bisexual,” Craig explained.
“You do?”
“I’m equally attracted to men and women.”
“So, our marriage wasn’t a sham for you?”
“Absolutely not. Skye, I loved you very much. I still do.” Craig sat down on a box and looked up at me. “When we married, I thought we’d be together forever.”
“What happened?”
He laced his fingers together and lowered his gaze to the floor. I recognized the movement. It’s what he always did when he talked about something he was uncomfortable with.
“I’m not sure myself. Maybe I should have experimented more when I was younger. I knew I was attracted to men, but I just pushed it aside. Maybe if I’d dealt with it then, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You never had sex with a man when you were younger?”
“Oh, I had a few encounters from the time I was a teen. But I really wanted a family. I wanted a normal life.”
“So you married me.”
“No.” He looked up at me again. “I married you because I loved you. I thought that part of my life was just a phase. I thought it was gone forever. I can’t explain it. It just happened. Suddenly I was more attracted to men than to women. Sexually.”
“I see.”
“I tried to deny it. But the more I tried, the stronger the urge became.”
“That’s when you started going online to meet men?”
“I thought if I just played around with it, the urge would go away. I thought I could do that and still keep you and our life.”
“I think it happened for a reason. I think it’s something you need to experience or deal with or whatever.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Skye.” He stood up and put his arms around me and rested his chin on my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
I put my arms around his back, and we settled into a familiar stance. Just two people who had been friends forever. So close in some ways that words were unnecessary. While a part of me was sorry that our marriage had ended, I didn’t have any regrets about leaving that life and starting a new one. Standing there, holding each other was like a memorial service for our marriage.
Talking with Craig made me think about a lot of things. I knew this was difficult for him, but I hadn’t considered just how much he was really going through. Somehow, that brief conversation with him had made me realize that if he could face his future with strength, then I could do the same. He had to deal with his sexuality and how the people he knew would react to it. All I had to do was get a job and learn to date. That opened up the possibility that maybe Max and I could be more than just friends. Lily was right. I had to take charge and orchestrate my own life changes.
“Hey, Mom, you’re taking the business skills course?” Sheridan held up my class schedule.
“Yes, why?”
“Oh, I’m taking it, too. Tuesdays at ten.”
“My class is Thursday, so you’re safe.” I’d had a little trepidation about how Sheridan would feel about me attending the same college, but she’d been fine with it.
“Too bad. It would have been fun taking a class together.” Sheridan slung her backpack over a shoulder. “I’m outta here. You and Max have fun tonight.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“You sure you don’t want to stick around for dinner?”
“Mom, you don’t want me here for your date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s just a couple of friends having dinner.”
“You might get lucky,” she suggested. “Besides, Donna and I are going to see a late movie tonight, so I might as well stay at her place. And I’m going shopping tomorrow afternoon. But I’ll be home before that.”
“Did your father give you money?”
“Of course. I convinced him I couldn’t possibly go back to college with old clothes.” She opened the door and looked back. “I think he’s beginning to get over the guilt thing though. He didn’t give me nearly what I asked for. I think that’s a good sign.”
“Have fun and be safe.”
Sheridan dug a hand into the side pocket of her backpack and pressed something into my palm. “You be safe, too.” She darted out the door, leaving me standing there, staring at a condom packet in my hand.
I’d kind of been hoping that Sheridan would hang around for dinner. I still wasn’t sure about how far I wanted to go with Max. Surely not far enough to need a condom. Or did I? I took the condom packet into the bathroom and tucked it in a drawer. I wanted something more than friendship with Max but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what that would be. Was there a middle ground between friendship and sex with a man?
I took a shower and found myself shaving my legs and underarms, although I’d just shaved the day before. Did I subconsciously want something to happen? Just the idea of making love both terrified and titillated me. It had been a long time since Craig and I had been intimate. And even before that our love life had never been passionate. What would it feel like to make love to a truly passionate man?
We were having a last blast of summer heat so I pulled a loose cotton dress on over my lacy bikini panties and matching bra. Who was I kidding? No one wears panties like that unless she wants them to be seen. I twirled around in front of the full-length mirror. The dress floated and swirled around my calves. One of those dresses that make you feel pretty and feminine. Every woman should have at least one.
By the time Max rang the doorbell, I had the chicken Florentine simmering and water boiling for the fresh pasta. I buzzed him in through the front door and took a quick glance around the loft. I still got a thrill from having my own place. I’d given Sheridan the room next to the darkroom and had a second bedroom built next to the bathroom. Even with that addition the loft was still airy and spacious.
Max knocked at the door and I opened it.
He was holding a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine and he looked better than ever. I felt a hum of energy run through my body when he leaned over and brushed his lips across mine.
“The flowers are beautiful.” The arrangement included birds-of-paradise, orange and yellow daylilies, and purple hydrangeas. I took the flowers from him and carried them into the kitchen. I hadn’t thought to buy a flower vase so I put the flowers in a glass pitcher and filled it with water.
“Thanks. They’re from my yard. And I brought some sauvignon blanc for dinner.”
“One of my favorites. You want to open it now?” I handed him a corkscrew. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes.”
“You look nice,” Max said. “Smell good, too.”
“Thank you.” I dumped the fresh pasta into the boiling water and stirred it. Max poured two glasses of wine and took them to the small table I had set. I drained the pasta, poured the chicken Florentine over it, and carried the platter to the table.
“Would you get the bread from the counter?” I asked.
“Sure.” Max came back with the bread and an envelope of photos. “Are these the photos you took at Jasmine’s wedding?”
I nodded. “I keep forgetting to take them to Lily.”
“Can I look?”
“Sure.” I opened the envelope and pulled out the black and whites I’d done. “I took some color shots, too, but I like the black and whites better.”
Max leafed through the photos and whistled. “These are great, Skye. I had no idea you were such a good photographer.”
“It’s been a hobby for years.”
“This one is amazing.” He held up a shot of Grant and Jasmine. Grant pressed his lips to Jasmine’s forehead and a single tear trickled down his cheek. “It captures how he must have been feeling.”
&
nbsp; “Thanks.”
“You know, I have a friend who’s a photographer. He just told me he’s looking for an assistant.”
“Really?” My breath caught.
“Would you be interested?”
“Oh, yes!”
Max grinned. “He’ll work you to death, though. Ben is known for going through assistants.”
“That’s okay. Does he have his own studio? What kind of photography does he do?”
“Yeah. Steinhart Photography. He does lot of advertising, publicity, some events. Then there’s the artsy stuff.” Max put the photos back in the envelope and set them on the counter. “I’ll call him tomorrow and set up an interview for you.”
“Benjamin Steinhart?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“I know of him. He’s considered one of the best photographers in the Northwest.”
“Ah. That explains his ego, then.”
“I didn’t know he did commercial photography. I only know about his art photography.”
“He enjoys an extravagant lifestyle,” Max said. “The commercial photography pays better than the art.”
I didn’t hold out much hope. My only experience was as an amateur photographer. Steinhart was probably looking for someone who’d done the job before. Still, it was nice to think about.
When we finished dinner, Max insisted on doing the dishes.
“You don’t have to,” I objected.
“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes to wake up to a sink full of dirty dishes.” Max ran water in the sink and added a squirt of detergent. “You can dry, if it’ll make you feel better.”
We did the dishes in silence and somehow it felt all right. I was a little surprised how at ease I felt with Max. Another sign that I was ready? Max drained the sink, rinsed it, and put the sponge in the dish I’d bought for it.
“Are you always so neat in the kitchen?”
“Not really, but it looks like you are. Just trying to be a good guest.”
“You want some coffee?”
“No way, there’s still wine left.” Max picked up the bottle and filled our glasses.
“That’s because you got the big bottle.”