Happy

by Chris Scully

  “Ugh, that’s creepy,” Peter protested, but he was too drunk to resist the pull for long. At least that’s what he told himself as he let Joe’s warmth lull him. “Adam’s trying to sell you to the highest bidder, you know.”

  “He’s just mad because now that he finally got up the nerve to propose, he has to wait.”

  Peter jerked upright. Joe’s arm fell from his shoulder. “Propose?” He felt like someone had just kicked him in the balls.

  “Don’t say anything,” Adam cautioned. “We’re not telling anyone until after Maria’s wedding. We don’t want to take away from her celebration.”

  “Yeah. That’s… that’s great,” he said weakly. “I’m happy for you.” For a second his vision blurred.

  “Doesn’t really sound like it,” Joe commented.

  Peter pretended not to see Adam elbow Joe in the ribs. That was it, then. Peter had never felt more alone. “Ever wish you could go back and change your life?” he asked suddenly.

  “All the time.”

  Joe answered so quickly Peter swung his head around in surprise. “What would you do?”

  “Not wait eighteen years to tell Adam how I felt.”

  There it was again. That unwanted stab of jealousy. Peter swallowed hard when Adam rested his hand affectionately on Joe’s knee. Joe covered it with his own and twined their fingers. Peter looked away. This was not helping his situation.

  “Why?” Joe prompted. “What would you do over?”

  “Christ, where do I start?” he muttered under his breath. Stop talking, Peter. Just shut the fuck up. “You know what? Ignore me. I’m wasted. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” He tried to stand up but Joe grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled him back down.

  “Spill,” he ordered. But Peter remained stubbornly tight-lipped.

  “This is about Elena, isn’t it?”

  “Huh?” Peter started at the mention of his ex-fiancée. “Where did that come from?”

  “You’re the one talking about do-overs….”

  “It’s been two years since she got married. Almost four since we broke up.”

  Joe rubbed the back of Peter’s neck affectionately. “It’s okay to have regrets, Pete, but you can’t let them control your life. You keep waiting for everything to come to you. Once in a while you’ve got to go out and get it yourself.”

  “Oh my God, you’re unreal. I am not still hung up on Elena,” he insisted. But maybe it did all come back to Elena. She’d been the last good thing in his life, and he’d let her go. He shook off the uncomfortable thought. “Hey, no offense, but I’m not taking life advice from either of you. May I remind you how long it took you to figure out you wanted each other?” He rose unsteadily to his feet and fumbled in his front pocket for his phone. “I should go. Will you let Julian and Sara know I left?”

  “Why don’t you crash here tonight?”

  Peter’s heart jumped in alarm. That’s all he needed. More time with Adam and Joe. “Nah, I’ve got church in the morning, and then I’m working the lunch shift.”

  “Then I’ll drive you home,” Adam offered. “Or we can call you a cab.”

  He waved aside both suggestions. What was the point of a girlfriend if you couldn’t count on her to help you out? Besides, maybe Joe was right. He needed to make more of an effort. “I’ll see if Demetra’s feeling better. She can pick me up.” Peter had his phone out and the number dialed before Adam could talk him out of it.

  It took her a long time to answer. When she did, she sounded none too pleased. He hoped she hadn’t been trying to sleep. “Peter? Hey. I thought you were at that party.”

  “I am.” Joe and Adam were watching him carefully. He stumbled to the far end of the porch and lowered his voice. “How’s the headache?”

  “Oh. It’s a little better.”

  “Good.” Peter heard a man’s voice in the background and frowned. “Is someone there with you?”

  “It’s just Louie.” Right. Demetra’s older brother had returned to the city and was staying with her and her parents until he found a place of his own. He’d briefly met the man last week. “Why are you calling?”

  “I, uh, wondered if you could pick me up.”

  “Peter,” she sighed. “Are you drunk?”

  “I’m trapped. My ride’s not ready to leave.” Silence. Peter struggled to stave off the sudden pressure behind his eyes. “Please, Demetra.”

  He heard the sound of muffled voices in the background as Demetra covered the phone speaker. “Fine,” she relented. “Give me a few minutes, okay? And send me the address.”

  “Great. Thanks, I—” She hung up before he could finish. He turned back to Adam and Joe, who still sat on the step, and forced his lips into a smile. “Looks like you’ll get to meet Demetra after all.”

  TWO

  LOUIE PAPADAKIS sprawled face first across his childhood twin bed and contemplated the sorry state of his life. It was Saturday night. He should be out having fun, not sitting around here alone, with only the Internet for company. But he’d lost touch with his Toronto friends when he moved to Vancouver right after high school, and now that he was back in Toronto twelve years later, he didn’t know who to call.

  You could go out, his horny self suggested. Check out a club or two. But Louie wasn’t ready to get back into the bar scene yet. Thanks to Aaron, he’d become a bit of a recluse, sticking close to home in case Aaron dropped by; when he did, they rarely ventured out.

  He rolled to his back and stared at the stack of cardboard boxes piled in the corner, awaiting a new home. Pitiful to think that’s all that was left of his life. But he’d sold his car, his furniture, and anything of note when he left Vancouver; the rest—what would fit in boxes—had been shipped here to the house he’d grown up in.

  Somehow he’d thought that coming home would help mend his broken heart, but he felt lonelier than ever. Like a guest in someone else’s home. He’d quickly learned that once you’d left, you couldn’t go back, no matter how much you might want to.

  The house seemed particularly quiet and empty with his parents away in Greece for the summer and his sister out with her boyfriend. He couldn’t wait to start work on Monday, just so he would have something to do. He needed to keep busy or the regrets might start creeping in.

  Zelda, his four-year-old tabby, jumped up on the bed as if sensing his thoughts. She immediately curled up on his chest and began purring as Louie dug his fingers into her soft striped fur. “Did I make a mistake, Zelda?” In response she rubbed her face on his knuckles and purred even louder. She had never liked Aaron, scratching him whenever he got too close. That should have been his first clue things wouldn’t last.

  It had been seven months since he’d given Aaron the ultimatum that broke them up. At first Louie had been hopeful he would see reason and change his mind. After their years together he thought he deserved something. He needed to see Aaron was as invested as he was. But after a few months of waiting around in vain, it was clear Aaron had made his choice. By April, Louie knew there was nothing left for him in Vancouver. If he stayed, he would only be tempted to run back to Aaron.

  Once he’d made the decision, swinging the transfer from Vancouver to Toronto had been simple; the travel agency he worked for was nationwide, and openings were always popping up. He’d only had to cover the cost of relocation himself. And while he’d left Vancouver with a heavy heart, he knew he couldn’t stay there anymore. Not when he might run into Aaron at any time or see his picture in the newspaper with yet another blonde model on his arm.

  Fuck that. Louie raised up on his elbows, dislodging Zelda. He had the house to himself. Why was he moping when somewhere online there was a hot video calling his name? His long-neglected dick perked up at the thought, and he gave a halfhearted laugh. Ah, porn. Last refuge of the lonely.

  Louie hopped up and set a disgruntled Zelda outside the bedroom door. He stripped off his clothes and had just rearranged himself back on the bed with his laptop open and re
ady to go, when his phone rang. He hesitated, undecided. Porn or phone?

  When he saw the caller was his sister, Demetra, the last of his libido died. He knew he had to answer. “Can you go pick Peter up?” she asked without preamble. “He’s drunk.”

  “I thought you were with Peter.” She had been all dressed up when she left the house earlier, so he had assumed they had a date. Louie hit the Pause button on the computer screen so Demetra wouldn’t hear anything she shouldn’t.

  “Um. I’m not with Peter tonight.”

  He had a bad feeling about this. He sighed. If there was one thing he hated, it was lies. “What are you up to, Dee?”

  “I’ll explain later, okay? Just do this for me, please?”

  Louie gave his drooping penis an apologetic glance. Looks like no action for you tonight after all.

  “Please, Louie,” Demetra begged.

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll text you the address. Oh, and if he asks, I’m in bed with a migraine.”

  “What the hell, Dee? You don’t get… migraines,” he finished, even though she’d already hung up on him. A minute later a text came through with an address. He would demand an explanation in the morning. In the meantime he had a drunk boyfriend to pick up.

  Despite his initial annoyance, excitement fluttered in Louie’s chest as he quickly got dressed and grabbed Demetra’s car keys off the table in the foyer, and it had nothing to do with the reprieve from his temporary boredom.

  It had been twelve years since he’d seen Peter Georgiou, not counting that brief encounter last week when Demetra had introduced him as her new boyfriend. Louie hadn’t recognized him at first, but as soon as he made the connection, he’d become almost as tongue-tied as he had been as a teenager. All those jumbled feelings he’d struggled with then had come pouring back and left him shaken. He hadn’t made the best impression. Peter had given his hand a quick shake and then left with Demetra without a single sign of recognition. Not that Louie had expected recognition. Peter had certainly never noticed him all those years ago.

  They had grown up only blocks apart in the predominantly Greek neighborhood, and gone to the same church, the same Greek language classes, the same schools. Peter had been the hottest boy in high school and well aware of his status. Two years younger, Louie had been his constant shadow, only Louie doubted Peter ever saw it. They never ran in the same social circles. Louie chuckled now at the thought of how often he had staked out the restaurant where Peter worked after school and on weekends.

  He couldn’t deny he was the slightest bit jealous of his sister. His grin faded as he drove. Finding out his sister was dating his first boy crush only cemented his certainty that returning home after all this time had been a mistake.

  The address Demetra had given him wasn’t that far away, and at this time of night, the drive didn’t take long. He slowed, searching for house numbers in the dark as the GPS signaled his imminent arrival. Bingo. The house was small and quaint. Cars lined the driveway and the front porch light was on. Peter waited in the company of two men: one solidly built and dark-haired, the other fair and on the slender side.

  He parked across the driveway and left the car idling as he hopped out and walked over. “Someone need a taxi?”

  “Uh, Pete, your girlfriend’s not quite what I expected,” the fair-haired man said with a touch of amusement.

  “That’s her brother. What are you doing here?” Peter grumbled belligerently as he tottered toward him. “Where’s Demetra?”

  “Dee sent me. I guess she’s not feeling well enough to drive,” he lied. Louie added a sardonic bow. “Your carriage awaits, milord.”

  Peter brushed past him and climbed into the passenger seat without a word. Louie followed, looking back to see Peter’s two friends still standing on the porch with their arms around each other. He gave them a wave to say he could handle it from here and slid behind the wheel.

  Peter was quiet, his head propped against the window and his eyes closed as Louie pulled out and headed home. The overpowering smell of beer and cologne filled the small car, and Louie quickly lowered the window to let in some fresh air. He cast a quick glance at his passenger. Alone with Peter Georgiou. He willed his hammering heart to slow down. It wasn’t fair. He should have outgrown this. He was nearly thirty, dammit, not some horny teenager with a crush, and Peter was certainly no longer the hot high school senior.

  “Good party?” he finally asked just to break the silence.

  Peter grunted noncommittally. “They’re getting married,” he mumbled a few minutes later.

  “Who?”

  “Joe and Adam.”

  “Like, to each other?” Louie could only surmise Peter was referring to the two men who had seen them off.

  Peter swung his head in Louie’s direction. “You got a problem with that?”

  Louie laughed. “God no. I think it’s great. I hope to do the same one day. I just didn’t think you’d….” He stopped himself before he said something offensive. In high school, Peter had seemed so macho, so quintessentially Greek; Louie couldn’t quite imagine him mixing with his crowd. Then again, were any of them the same people they’d been in high school?

  He stopped at a traffic light and checked on his companion. Peter’s face looked drawn, his eyes pools of darkness. He’d always had sad eyes—fringed with thick black lashes. Soulful eyes, Louie used to call them. “You okay?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  “Probably because you look like shit. You’re not going to hurl are you? Do you need me to pull over? Demetra will be furious if you puke in her car.”

  “No. You’re safe.”

  The thick mullet Louie had once fantasized running his fingers through was gone, replaced by a severe shave that did nothing to hide Peter’s creeping hairline; the athletic build Louie had secretly ogled in the locker room was a little more solid now. Still, while the years might not have been entirely kind to Peter, Louie couldn’t deny the man still did something for him.

  Peter turned his head and caught him looking. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “How tanked are you? I’m Demetra’s brother, remember?”

  “I know that. I mean I have this feeling like I’ve seen you before.”

  Louie put his eyes back on the road when the car behind them honked to alert him the light had changed. “I was two years behind you at Eastdale. You were on the football team. I was on the pep squad.”

  Peter was quiet for several seconds. Then he swung around in his seat. “Oh my God, that was you? Cheerboy?”

  The old nickname sent a chill up Louie’s spine. As the only male member on the six-person squad, he’d received his share of jokes and name-calling. Somewhere along the line, “cheerboy” had become “queerboy.” That had been the worst. “Don’t call me that. And we were the pep squad, not cheerleaders,” Louie corrected. “Go Goliaths,” he cheered weakly.

  Peter’s deep laugh rumbled in the confines of the tiny car. “Ah, the good old days when I had all my hair.” He rubbed his shaved scalp self-consciously. “We gave you a pretty hard time, didn’t we?”

  Louie shrugged. Kids could be vicious. But at least he couldn’t recall Peter ever taking part in the teasing. That would have felt like a betrayal.

  “I think we were just jealous of you,” he continued. “Getting to put your hands up all those girls’ skirts.”

  “Not really my thing. And what are you talking about? You’re the one who kept breaking hearts. I was the one whose shoulder they cried on.”

  “Why wasn’t it your thing?”

  “Um, because I wasn’t into girls.” He smiled to himself. “Still not into girls.”

  Peter’s silence was damning. Louie risked a glance, and although Peter’s face was in shadows, there was a tenseness about him that hadn’t been there earlier. “Is that going to be a problem?” He repeated Peter’s question from earlier.

  “No. No, of course not. It’s just Demetra never said
anything….”

  Louie supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. “I’m the family secret. We don’t really talk about it.”

  “Is that why you moved to Vancouver? That’s where you were living, right?”

  Louie was a little startled that Peter knew that much about him. “Partly,” he replied. “It was best for everyone. Then after college I found work out there.” And Aaron, he added silently.

  Peter went back to staring out his window. Louie realized he’d been driving without confirming his destination. “You still live with your parents, right? On Durant?”

  Peter snorted. “Yeah.”

  “Demetra says you’re working at your parents’ restaurant.”

  Another snort. “Yeah. Pop had a heart attack a couple of years ago. I quit my job to help out. Good thing I spent all that time on my MBA.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Oh yeah, he’s fine now.”

  Peter leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes. Louie couldn’t tell if he was sleeping, or if he just wanted to be left alone. Either way, Louie stopped talking, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

  He didn’t even need to ask Peter the house number—he recognized it straightaway from all the times he’d oh-so-casually strolled by as a teenager, hoping to catch Peter out front. A plain, brown-brick two-story perched above a single-car garage. Even the old basketball net still hung above the garage door—in tatters now and the hoop rusted, but still there. And in the sloped driveway, Mr. Georgiou’s hulking white Cadillac sat rusting away next to an almost-as-ancient black Impala. Peter had driven one just like it in high school. Wow. Some things really never did change.

  He waited for Peter to get out, but he didn’t stir. Louie tapped him on the shoulder, and Peter bolted upright with a comical “Huh?”

  “You’re home, sleeping beauty.”

  “Oh.” Peter rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He stared out the window but didn’t move.

  “Do you need help?”