And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

  Ohmygodthisthingisgoingrightoverandwe’reallgoingtodrown.

  I grabbed the side of the boat, petrified. I thought for sure this was it.

  Nobody else seemed worried, so I resisted the impulse to scream at the top of my lungs. Could be embarrassing.

  I tried to smile, while my grip on the railing was like steel. The water was like Right! There! Just inches away. Did nobody else see this???

  I tried to keep calm. I tried humming something from Unsinkable Molly Brown, but all I could think was that that ocean looked like it would be really cold. Really cold, while we clung to the wreckage, drifting, waiting for a rescue that wasn’t coming, saying brave and funny things to each other until our hands grew so numb from the icy waters that we would, one by one, slip quietly under the surface, just like Leo Di—

  “You okay?” Jeff whispered in my ear, and put his arm around me. “You don’t look very happy. Seasick?”

  “No, I’m good. It’s just—” My whole body was a knot. Jeff didn’t seem worried. Was I being a big baby? I didn’t want to be a big baby.

  “You should have told me you were afraid of the water!”

  “I’m not!” I said, still whispering. “I’m not afraid of anything! Okay, I’m not crazy about snakes, but aside from that…”

  Had I known I was going to die on this boat today, I’d probably have done a couple things differently.

  Like not gotten on this boat.

  “What’s wrong then?”

  “It’s a little tilty, is all,” I whispered back. “Is it supposed to be all tilty like this?”

  He pulled me closer.

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Sailboats lean, but they have really deep keels. The boat is built for this—all tilty.”

  “Okay. Good to know.” That helped. I tried breathing again.

  “You can’t swim?”

  “No I can swim. I swim great. In a pool. In a lake, that you’d probably call a pond, yeah I can swim. Maybe not in the Atlantic Ocean though.”

  “It’s Long Island Sound.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Hey Michael,” he said. “Don’t capsize today, okay?”

  “Promise,” said our stalwart captain, without taking his eyes from the horizon.

  “See?” said Jeff.

  “So Theo,” said Dave. “We all know Jeffrey is this incredibly boring lawyer defending laxatives or tampons or whatever, but what about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m a songwriter,” I said. Like it’s any of your business, slime-licker.

  “Really?” said Michael, eyes still looking out ahead of us. “That’s way more interesting than being a lawyer. What kind of songs do you write?”

  “Musical theatre.”

  “Even more interesting!” He actually looked at me. “Are you serious? I adore musicals!”

  “Oh of course! It was your vinyl collection I was pawing through last night!”

  “You found the library, I take it. I’m so glad. So tell me, what’s your favorite show of all time.”

  No hesitation.

  “Sunday in the Park.”

  “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

  And we were off, swapping names of shows, songwriters, hits, flops, and our mutual admiration for all things Sondheim. I’d only been in New York a couple years, but Michael had seen a lot. I totally forgot to be scared. I even forgot about awful Dave for a while.

  “There was actually a musical Dracula?” asked Jeff, when he heard Michael mention it.

  “Godawful as it was, yes!”

  “There were three vampire musicals that season,” I pointed out.

  “Each one worse than the last. Although my all-time favorite terrible-idea-for-a-musical has to be Anna Karenina,” said Michael.

  “You didn’t see it, did you?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course I did! It was the worst! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  Poor Jeff and Dave, I thought. And I looked across at Dave, sitting on the bench opposite us. He didn’t look bored at all. He was staring back at me, and you know how you hear about somebody undressing you with his eyes? Dave was way past that.

  I gave Jeff an elbow.

  “If you don’t make him stop,” I whispered, “I will.”

  Jeff leaned forward.

  “Dave—a word?” and he gestured with his head toward the front of the boat. “I’ll be right back,” he said, giving me a kiss on the side of the head. I’ll admit it, I was kinda digging this whole fake-boyfriend thing, and I missed that big warm arm as soon as he pulled it away.

  I watched the two of them clamber up and around toward the front of the boat. I’ll tell you something else about Jeff—he wears a nice pair of jeans.

  “So my pick was Sunday,” I said, as I realized that I wasn’t scared about the boat any more. “What’s your favorite then?” I asked Michael.

  “Chorus Line. It was also my first. I was fifteen years old, it was a rainy Saturday, it was a matinee—and I never wanted to leave.”

  I’ll spare you the rest of the musical-theatre-queen stuff.

  Chapter 37

  You Know that Road-to-Damascus Thing You’re Always Hearing About…?

  Jeffrey

  Listening to Michael and Theo go on and on about musicals, something I knew absolutely zip about, should have been annoying as holy hell, but it wasn’t. They were so excited about it. Listening to them was one of those times when I wondered if I was really gay after all. These two were rabid. Passionate! Can you imagine? What was I passionate about, I asked myself. The Knicks? Not even.

  In the middle of listening to their raptures, and starting to think that I should really get to the theatre more often than I did, which was never, Theo sort of nudged me. I glanced across to my old frat brother sitting opposite us—and I’ll be damned if he wasn’t still staring at Theo like a cartoon wolf.

  “If you don’t make him stop,” said Theo, “I will.”

  I had to do something. Like break his nose.

  “Dave—a word?” and I nodded toward the bow. “I’ll be right back,” I said, and quickly pressed my lips against his curls.

  Dave and I climbed up around the cabin to the front of the boat, leaving Michael and Theo still swapping stories.

  “’Sup, bro?”

  “So Dave,” I said quietly, as we were in the front of the sailboat. “What the fuck?”

  “What?”

  “Did you invite us out on the orgy cruise or something? Because if I’d known that’s what you had in mind, I’d have said no.”

  “Hey, it’s potluck. I thought you’d brought a dish to pass.” He looked back toward the stern. “And Theo is definitely a dish!”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “What?”

  “Look, if that’s what you guys have planned, turn this thing right around and drop us back on the dock. I did not bring Theo to be your dessert.”

  “Chill, dude. We didn’t plan anything. I just thought—when you brought the pretty little pastry along…and after all, you do owe me one.”

  “Let me put it this way, Dave. You will get your eyes off of Theo, or I will rip your dick off, just for the fun of watching the gulls fight over it. Is that clear enough?”

  “Hey! Since when did you get so uptight? You never had a problem sharing before!”

  “This is different!”

  “What?” He was laughing. “Are you and the little redhead really a thing?”

  “Yeah!” I said. “Yeah, we are!”

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Until that second, I absolutely knew that we weren’t ‘a thing,’ as my articulate asshole friend had put it. Theo was just this guy, my best friend’s kid brother. He was mostly a total pain in the backside who could, I�
��ll admit, sometimes be kinda fun to hang around with. And then I had to ask myself, when was the last time I’d actually had fun—before Theo I mean. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything, did it?

  And you’re probably thinking: Well duh!

  So, yeah, maybe I should have figured out that the ringing in my ears was the clue phone, and I should probably pick up—but I hadn’t. I hadn’t articulated any of this in my head. In my version of things, we were still just a couple guys. Anyway that’s what I’d thought, right up until that totally unexpected Yeah-We-Are had come bounding out of its hiding place like a great big mutt puppy with oversized paws. And once it was spoken, I had to wonder.

  Were we really—maybe—becoming something? I looked back to Theo. He had pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, his hair ruffling in the wind, the sun was shining for a bit and he was laughing at something Michael had said. He looked—dazzling. Fabulous. Transformed somehow from the oh-so snotty boy I’d met at lunch one day into this preposterously good-looking guy, this thing, this Theo.

  So I answered Dave again, a little more thoughtfully.

  “Yeah,” I said finally. “I think maybe we are becoming something. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop trying to lick my boyfriend, okay?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Just—go sit with your husband.” Yeah, I know. Husband. But I used it deliberately here to remind him of his status. “Forsaking all others, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Dave, as we climbed back around the cabin. “You forget, we left that bit out.”

  As soon as I sat down next to Theo, he worked his way back under my arm. Maybe he liked me a little too.

  “So Theo,” said Michael. “How did an interesting person like you ever get hooked up with this old stuffed shirt?”

  “We slept together,” said Theo dead serious.

  “Like so many couples we know,” said Dave.

  “I was staying at Rebecca’s,” I clarified, “because of my apartment—”

  “And I was too,” said Theo.

  “Theo is Rebecca’s little brother.”

  “Oh,” said our hosts in unison.

  “And we had to share the fold-out couch,” Theo finished.

  “That must have been all cozy—and convenient,” said Dave.

  “Wasn’t at all like what you’re thinking,” I said.

  “We fought every night,” said Theo.

  “Cold feet? Blanket hog?” said Michael.

  “Somebody eating crackers?”

  “I don’t even remember what the fights were about,” said Theo. “Do you?”

  “No, but it was something, every night—”

  “And sometimes more than one fight per night—”

  “And Rebecca would always come stumbling out in the most ridiculous pajamas, and she would break us up—”

  “Or we’d still be yelling.”

  “So,” said Dave. “Rebecca’s little brother. Have you two known each other for years then?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Only since I was meeting my sister for lunch one day and instead…” said Theo, looking over his shoulder to me. “Not very long at all, when you think about it.”

  “No, not long at all,” I agreed, looking back at him.

  “That’s so sweet,” said Michael. “Must have been love at first sight.”

  Theo and I burst into laughter.

  “Two minutes into our first conversation, Theo threatened to castrate me. In the middle of Café Un Deux Trois. With a table knife.”

  “Ouch,” said Michael.

  “He totally had it coming.”

  “I’m sure he did,” said Michael.

  “And you’ve been together since…?” Dave trailed off.

  I looked at Theo and he looked back to me. What should we say? When did our pretend relationship start?

  “It’s very new.” It was the best answer I could think of.

  “Ah,” said Michael. “Explains everything.”

  Theo was still looking at me. His eyes were so close, I could see the different colors in the irises—the blues, the greens, even flecks of amber. It’s a stupid cliché to describe somebody’s eyes by saying they’re blue as the sea or some such crap. I wasn’t poetic, I wasn’t all that sensitive or artistic or anything. I only knew this—Theo’s eyes were suddenly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. No ocean even came close.

  We were still staring at each other when Dave finally spoke up.

  “Hey, you two. You guys want to go sit up on the bow? It’s fun up there in the wind.”

  I looked at Theo, who nodded.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  “And if you don’t like it, we can come back here, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I led him along the cabin—with him holding the arm I held out behind me—and he followed me out to the deck in front of the sail.

  “Here,” I said, and I settled down and leaned back against the front of the cabin, and spread my legs. “Sit here.” And he carefully lowered himself until he finally just had to plop down in front of me between my knees. Dave’s text that morning had said it might get cool out on the water, so I’d worn a windbreaker and Theo had grabbed a sweater. Both of these were miserably inadequate for the day, and I knew Theo had to be freezing. I pulled him to me, unzipped my jacket so he could lean against me a little closer for warmth, and I put my arms around him tightly.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Not scared?”

  “No, not a bit. I feel stupid now.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Dave clambered out to us.

  “Here,” and he handed us each a glass of wine. “Enjoy!” And he climbed back to Michael.

  “What did you say to him to make him behave?”

  “I told him if he didn’t, I’d rip his arm out and beat him with it.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Seriously, what did you guys talk about?”

  “Seriously? Aside from the threats of physical violence?” I looked at him. I could have told him—but I was a coward and I totally chickened out. “It’s a secret.”

  “Wow, you’re no fun.”

  “Tell you later, maybe.”

  We looked out at the waves for a while, quiet, close.

  “Hey, speaking of telling things,” said Theo, “I didn’t tell you—I had a job interview yesterday.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I told you I was sending my resume in for an office job at Lincoln Center Theatre. Nothing will come of it, but I was totally surprised when they called.”

  “So, are you excited?”

  “You kidding me? I mean it’s just office work, but at least it’s in the theatre. It would be hugely helpful making some professional connections.”

  “And bags and bags of money, I hope?”

  “Ha! Welcome to not-for-profits. If I get the job, I’ll probably have to apply for food stamps. But I’m sure there were mobs of applicants. I’ll never get it.”

  “But you got the interview.”

  “True. I got the interview. Who knows how many others they talked to.”

  “I’ll miss you ’round the office.”

  “Nothing’ll come of it.”

  I looked down at his face a bit, as much as I could see from behind and above—just the outline, really, as he stared out at the water. Some freckles, the eyelashes.

  “Hey, pretend boyfriend,” I said finally.

  “Hey,” he said, nestling a little closer in my arms. “This is nice.”

  “It is. Even just pretend.”

  “Because we can’t be real boyfriends.”r />
  “Nooooo,” I said.

  “Nooooo,” Theo agreed.

  “There’s still Madison, after all.”

  “Actually…I may have given Madison the boot,” he said. “Or he me. I’m not sure which.”

  I pulled myself around so I could look at his face a little better.

  “You guys are…”

  “Totally splitsville, man.”

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. Week ago.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  He shrugged.

  “Madison’s a jerk,” I said.

  “True. He didn’t like you much either.”

  “Screw him.”

  “Funny thing is—I don’t think he liked me much either.”

  “He didn’t really know you.”

  “No?”

  “Too self-absorbed to know anybody.”

  “Probably. Same could be said of me though.”

  “True.”

  He pinched me really hard.

  “But you’re much better looking!” I howled.

  “That’s better.”

  And so we sat, pretend boyfriends, smiling and content, cuddled together and looking out at the sea, the Connecticut shore, the gulls, the white caps. I leaned my cheek against his ear on the windy side, to shield it. The sea was getting pretty rough, and Theo clung to my arms even tighter.

  And I wanted nothing more in life than that, to hold him, to take care of him.

  Why? I wondered. Why this impulse to look after him? Because he was young? He was twenty-four, he just looked younger. And innocent? Don’t make me laugh. Judging from his skill and deportment in the bedroom?—Theo had clearly been playing sword-in-the-stone for a while now.

  He might seem small and frail, but I knew what an illusion that was. He was about as delicate and fragile as a lynx.

  Still, under all the snarl and the snark, I’d also heard some carefully hidden soft spots. That night when he was so angry because I’d picked him up—like he was nothing. He was terrified of that, of being dismissed, overlooked, discounted. And lord knows, Theo was definitely something.