by N. R. Walker
I wondered if he could leave me. I wondered if he should. And as that thought unsettled me, I tried to get out of bed, but Cooper’s hold tightened on me. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.
I rolled so I faced him instead and wrapped him up in my arms. Even in his sleep he needed me. How could I ever leave him? I hoped to God it wouldn’t come to that. Instead, we could prove to them that we were serious. It wouldn’t be easy, it would take patience and understanding, and it could very well take years.
But he was worth it. We were worth it.
I kissed the side of his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
* * * *
In the morning, I woke up to find Cooper sitting on the bed with his phone in his hand. “Hey,” I said, my voice still sleepy. “Everything okay?”
“Just got a message from Mom and Dad,” he said quietly. “They’re coming to see us before we go back to New York.”
Chapter Ten
It was a very different meeting this time. Andrew and Paula Jones walked into the café at the hotel, looking more nervous than anything. Cooper’s mother looked like she’d barely slept.
I knew how she felt.
Cooper was stoic, his jaw was set and his chin was raised defiantly. I’d told him earlier, if he wanted to, he could listen to what they had to say and if it didn’t go well, the power was his to end the meeting.
If they didn’t meet him halfway, at least.
He’d told me he’d hear them out, but he wouldn’t wear any bullshit about me coercing him into bed. He wouldn’t cop being told he was just a kid, and that I had no right to take advantage of him. He was hurt and angry, and I didn’t blame him.
As tough as he tried to make himself out to be, he wanted their approval. He wanted his parents in his life, without any disagreements, without any tension. He wanted them to be happy for him.
Thankfully the waiter followed them in and took orders for coffee, which was an ice breaker for all of us.
His mother started first. “Cooper, honey, I’m sorry yesterday ended up the way it did,” she said. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“I don’t want to fight with you either,” he said quietly.
Then Paula stared at her husband, prompting him to speak.
“Look, son, we might not agree with everything you do,” he said cautiously. He sighed and started again, “But it’s not our choice. We know that.”
I half expected him to say ‘it’s not our mistake to make’ but thankfully, he didn’t.
“No, it’s not your choice,” Cooper said. He wasn’t letting them off easily. “It’s my choice, and I’ve made it.”
“We can see that,” his mother said, trying to smile.
Just then, the waiter returned with our coffees and asked if we were ready to order breakfast.
Cooper looked at his parents. “Will you be eating with us?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t really a question of food, it was a question of tolerance. If they stayed and ate with us, it meant they wanted to try to accept us.
“Yes,” his mother said. “If that’s okay with you?”
Cooper looked at his very-quiet father. “Dad?”
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. He looked to the waiter. “We’re ready to order.”
Cooper smiled and finally exhaled. He looked at me. “I’m starving. What are you having?”
It was hard not to smile back at him, even with his death-grip on my hand under the table. “Eggs Benedict, I think.”
Cooper looked up at the waiter. “One pancakes with maple syrup and bacon, and one eggs Benedict, with ham not salmon, sauce on the side, thanks.”
The fact he ordered for me, knowing exactly how I liked my eggs done made me smile. It wasn’t lost on his parents either.
It was pretty clear it was Paula, Cooper’s mother, who had insisted on this visit. His father was still standoffish, obviously not pleased with the idea of his son dating an older guy. But they were making an effort.
“Where’s Max?” Cooper asked.
“Still in bed,” Paula replied.
“He won’t surface until lunch time,” his father mumbled.
Cooper looked up thoughtfully and sighed. “Ah, the good old days.”
His mother smiled at him. “You should invite him to New York for a weekend,” she said. “He’d love that.”
“That’d be great,” Cooper said. “I’m pretty busy with work, but we could line it up with a concert or something he wants to see.” He looked at me, and smiled. “Max loves thrash death-metal.”
“Oh, excellent,” I said sarcastically. “Another concert.”
Cooper laughed. “You went to one, and you liked it.”
“You went to one of his concerts?” Paula asked, surprised.
Cooper answered for me. “Of course he did. He takes me to those boring art exhibition openings, so it’s only fair.”
“You went to one,” I countered, trying not to smile. “And you liked it.”
Paula and Andrew looked on, not very sure what to make of our banter. Cooper smiled as he sipped his coffee. “You guys should come to New York,” he said to his parents. “We could spend the weekend, I could show you where I work, we could go to Broadway or something equally as boring.”
They agreed, but didn’t commit to anything, and conversation turned to Cooper’s work, a subject he could talk about for hours. I just loved his enthusiasm for what he did, for what we did. He asked me a question or two, trying to drag me into the discussion, but I was happy for him to have this time with his parents. It didn’t have to involve me at every turn.
I wanted them to see he was still the same person.
I answered him, of course, but let him take centre stage. Not that I minded. I could listen to him talk about architecture all day long.
Cooper’s parents might have caught me smiling at him a few times, but I didn’t care. Let them see how much I admired him. I wasn’t about to deny it.
Breakfast arrived and as we ate, Paula directed her questions at me. She asked about my work, how I found New York and she even made small talk about the Yankees.
But Andrew barely said a word.
When it was time to go, I told Cooper I’d give him a few minutes with his parents while I checked us out of the hotel and organised the car. When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I met them in the lobby.
Cooper gave me a tight smile and quickly took my hand. After we’d said goodbye and were in the car on our way to the airport, I asked him what was said in my absence.
“Well, they’re still not exactly happy about us,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
“Don’t you apologise,” he said quickly. “For anything.”
“Still, I’m sorry it didn’t go how you’d hoped.”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “they’re prepared to put up with it, so I guess that’s all I could hope for.” He looked at me as I drove, and gave me a sad smile. “Last night, I really thought they weren’t going to accept it all, so I guess tolerance is good.”
“Coop, sweetheart, they’re still a part of your life,” I said. “They’re talking of coming to New York to visit you. They might not ‘accept’ us being together, but they’re trying. Give them time.”
“I just wish they could see us, ya know?” he said, slowly shaking his head. “If they could see us, the way we are together, the way we talk and laugh…”
“I think they saw how happy you were, how serious we were,” I told him, “and I think that’s what scared them.”
“Why would it scare them?” he asked. “Shouldn’t they be happy for me?”
“Give them time,” I said again. “I know it’s a Gen Y thing to want everything yesterday, but some things take time.”
He sighed and was quiet for a little while. Then he looked at me curiously. “What generation are you anyway?” he asked.
“Generation X,” I answered.
“You had to Google that, didn’t
you?”
“Yes,” I admitted with a laugh.
“So if I’m Gen Y and you’re X, then together we are the chromosome code for male,” he mused.
“Yes, I am X marks the spot, and you are the dear God, why, why, why.”
“Fucking hell, Tom,” he deadpanned. “We need to work on your jokes.”
* * * *
Cooper and I got back to New York and slipped easily into our routine. He was busy with work, and it was something I understood well. I actually condoned it. If he wanted to be the best—and he could be with his talent—he needed to put in the hours.
It was what I’d done. It was what had got me where I was today.
So if he had to work late, I didn’t mind. If he brought work over to my place, I did my work alongside him.
It was what we did.
We worked, we talked, we laughed, we made out then we’d work some more. He didn’t stay over every night that week, but almost. “It really would be easier if you moved in here,” I told him.
Cooper was standing near the dining table, packing some papers into his satchel. He dropped his hand. “Really, Tom?” he asked, not too happily. “Easier? It’d be easier?”
“Well, it’s a pain you always having to come here, or me going to your place,” I said, but my words lost steam with the look on his face. “Easier was the wrong word, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it really was.”
“I’m sorry,” I started to apologise.
Cooper finished stuffing his belongings into his satchel and walked over to me, kissing me with smiling lips. “You keep getting the whole move-in-with-me speech wrong.”
“Can I try again?”
“Not tonight.”
Damn, he was a demanding little punk. “Let me call you a cab.”
“I can call my own cab,” he said with a smile. “Well, Lionel will call one for me.”
“Lionel hails you a cab?”
“Yep,” he answered with a grin. “I told you he loves me.”
“Did you bring him a jar of peanut butter?” I asked with a smirk. “Did you flatter him, the way you flattered me?”
“No, I bought him struffoli from the Italian bakery on East fifty-third,” he said simply. “Well, technically I bought them for his wife who’s from Naples, so he was in her good books, and I’m in his.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” I said, shaking my head. “Wait. Wait, you gave him fine Italian pastries and all I got was peanut butter?”
Cooper laughed. “I bought you peanut butter because I wanted a sandwich. The coffee was to win you over.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know,” he answered simply. “Coffee and sass. I bought you coffee and sass.”
I chuckled as he got to the door. “Cooper?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you bought me coffee.”
He grinned and walked out. I heard him yell from the hall. “And sass.”
I nodded and grinned to myself. “And sass.”
* * * *
I spoke to Cooper every day, on the phone or via text, but didn’t see him for the rest of the week.
I missed him.
So on Friday night when I was supposed to be meeting some business friends of mine, I called and asked Cooper if he’d like to come.
“They’re your friends,” he said. “They’ve known you for twenty years. Is that a good idea?”
“Of course it is,” I told him. “I want them to meet you.”
I heard him switch his phone to his other ear. “But it’s Chaney, Hilderbrandt and Myer.”
“So?”
“Jesus, Tom,” he whispered into the phone. “They’re like the holy trinity of architecture.”
I laughed. “Really, Cooper? They’re just friends of mine.”
“They’re just friends of mine,” he repeated sarcastically. “God, I keep forgetting you’re in the same league as them.”
“Thanks,” I scoffed.
“You know what I mean,” he tried to explain. “I studied their work in college. They’re like legends.”
“Did you study my work in college?”
“Enough of the ego, Elkin.”
I laughed into the phone. “You did study my work!” I cried, but all he did was mumble some noncommittal response. I took a deep breath and tried not to smile. “Will you please come to dinner with me?” I asked. Then I whispered, “I’ve missed you.”
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll be nervous, and probably say something to embarrass you and they’ll laugh at me and I’ll never work in the industry again, but I’ll go because you asked.”
“You’ll be fine,” I told him. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you.”
* * * *
Well, he was a little late, but that gave me enough time to tell the three men I met there I was expecting my date.
My boyfriend.
They’d known I’d split from Sofia, although I hadn’t really found the courage to tell them the real reason until almost a year after. The three of them were what Cooper would call old school, but they were also my friends. They’d said they didn’t care that I was gay, and I’d met with them many times since and things between us were the same as they’d always been. Granted, I’d also never brought a date.
The restaurant was on Madison and Fifth, fine dining and strict dress code. I wondered briefly if I should have elaborated that fact to Cooper earlier, but when he walked in, he was still wearing his suit.
I stood when the maître d’ escorted him over, and gave him a reassuring smile. He was nervous. “Sorry I’m late,” he said quietly. “Louisa has me working on the Philly project.”
Cooper took off his jacket, revealing his charcoal waistcoat and grey shirt and tie, and looked expectantly, nervously, around the table. I made introductions and Cooper smiled politely and said quiet hellos. I’d never seen him so anxious. I didn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable with public displays of affection, Cooper included, but I wanted to reassure him. So under the table, I slid my foot alongside Cooper’s, silently telling him I was there. He gave me a small, appreciative smile.
Hal Meyers spoke first. “Tom says you’re working with Louisa Arlington?”
“Yes,” Cooper said. “She’s great. I’m working on a project at the moment that we’re taking to the Green Exhibition in Philly next week. It’s amazing.”
And so conversation turned to architecture, but with five architects at the table, it was inevitable. I kind of hoped it would, knowing it was a safe topic of conversation for Cooper. And I also wanted them to see how switched on he was.
He was quiet at first, but as conversation opened up, he spoke animatedly, reining himself in every now and then. I think the others asked him questions to test him, but he spoke about new design concepts, and how air flow principals and insulation should co-exist to reduce energy output, and how sustainability was the responsibility of his generation of designers.
I was sure Cooper would start on a tangent, then remind himself just who he was sitting at the table with. Whether it was his nerves or his blatant love for what he did, I wasn’t sure.
After we’d eaten and when he excused himself to go to the bathroom, the three men watched him leave. Lloyd Chaney raised his eyebrows. “He’s certainly on his way in the world, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s very passionate about what he does.”
“He’s very young,” Ro Hilderbrandt said. He wasn’t talking about Cooper’s age for his profession. He was talking about his relationship with me.
“He is,” I conceded. “But I assure you, he has twice the talent than what any of us did when we were his age.”
“Are you hoping he’ll tutor you?” Hal joked.
“I shouldn’t laugh,” I said with a smile. “Because I promise you, new design principles will leave us old fogeys for dead. He probably could teach me a thing or two about where our industry’s going.”
“O
ld fogeys?” Ro scoffed. “We’re not that old. You might feel it because you’ve scored yourself someone half your age.”
I ignored his jibe about us. “He’s really nervous about being here tonight.”
Lloyd turned his wine glass in his fingertips. “You must be serious about him, if you’ve brought him to meet us.”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“How did you meet?” Hal asked.
“He’s a friend of Ryan’s,” I said, deliberately not telling them about Cooper’s internship. It was a discussion I didn’t want to have knowing Cooper would be back any second. So I changed the subject. “When I told him who we’d be having dinner with tonight, he called you three the holy trinity of architecture.”
Cooper came back to his seat, as the three of them were still chuckling, and looked at me nervously. “I just told them how they’d be known as the holy trinity of architecture from now on.”
Cooper groaned. “Yeah, thanks. I was going to make the Godfather analogy but figured I didn’t want to give you ideas about young architects offending his mentors,” he said, looking at me pointedly. “Besides, I hear horse heads are hard to come by this time of year.”
Ro, Hal and Lloyd all laughed at his joke, and I slipped my hand on Cooper’s leg under the table.
Hal said, “Well, if we’re the holy trinity, what’s the great Thomas Elkin?”
Cooper looked at me and shrugged. “He’s just Tom.”
They all laughed again, but Ro laughed the loudest. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard Thomas Elkin be called ‘just Tom’,” he said.
Lloyd nodded. “I like you, son,” he said to Cooper. “It’s about time Tom here had some ego checks.”
Cooper looked to the table, a little embarrassed, so I gave his leg a squeeze. “Gentlemen, on that note, before I’m the punchline to any more of your jokes, we’ll bid you goodnight,” I said with a smile. I knew they meant no harm. It was just how they were.
“Yes, I must be getting home too,” Hal said. “Sue’s had one of her book club meetings on, so I think it’ll be safe to go home by now.”
We paid our bill and walked out, shook hands and agreed we’d do it again in another month or so, like we always did.