by Marie Sexton
The question was, could I do it again now? And would I need to?
I might have felt better about it if it wasnt for the fact that I was suddenly more worried about my relationship with Angelo than I had been in a very long time. Although on the surface nothing had changed, doubts had begun to plague me. Several times Id walked in to find him on the computer, only to have him quickly close the window. Every time, he said it was nothing, but it was obvious he was keeping some kind of secret from me.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I asked the third time it happened.
“I know.”
“But you wont.” It wasnt even a question.
“No.”
“Is it something you think will make me mad?”
“No.”
“Should I be worried? Have you met somebody else?”
“Its nothin like that.”
“But you still dont want to tell me?”
His eyes closed for a minute while he thought about that, but then he opened them and said, “I will, Zach. I promise. Eventually.”
“But not yet?”
His cheeks turned red, but he didnt look away. “Not yet.”
I dropped it, not because I didnt care, but because I knew it would do me no good to push him. I told myself to be patient—he would tell me when he was ready.
And yet, I couldnt stop dread from growing in my chest.
I began to contemplate all of the things he could be doing online. The most obvious was porn. But once again, I could see no reason he would feel compelled to hide that from me. The second most obvious, despite his denial, was that he had met somebody online and was having a cyber-relationship. It seemed unlikely to me, given Angelos distrust of all people in general. And yet, it wasnt an impossibility.
I wracked my brain for other things he might be doing.
It had been nearly three years since Id first hired Angelo to work at A to Z. And if I thought hed worked a lot back in Arvada, it was nothing compared to the hours he put in now. Maybe he was tired of it. Maybe he was looking for a new job, but was afraid to tell me.
Hot on the tail of those thoughts came a more disturbing thought: maybe he was looking for a new place to live. Maybe he was planning on leaving me, but just hadnt found a place to go yet.
I knew I was probably being ridiculous, but I couldnt stop myself from wondering. It might have helped if Id been able to talk to somebody about it, but I didnt know who. I suspected Matt didnt know any more than I did, and if he did, he wouldnt tell me. I didnt feel I could talk to Jared about it. He and Angelo had mended fences after our Vegas trip. Still, I knew that Jared often thought that Angelo was immature. He never could understand that Angelos behavior with me had nothing to do with his physical age and everything in the world to do with his complete lack of experience in relationships. Regardless, I didnt want to give him any new reason to think less of the man I loved.
It ended up being Lizzy I talked to. It wasnt that Lizzy and I were particularly close, but she helped out at the shop several hours each week, along with Jareds and Matts mothers, and we would make small talk.
“Zach,” she said one day as she came into A to Z, “can I use the computer in your office to check my e-mail?”
“Help yourself.”
“Our computers down right now. Its driving me crazy. I normally play around online while James naps. I havent known what to do with myself the last few days.”
She tossed her purse under the counter and headed for the door to the back room. “Lizzy,” I said, “what do you do online? Besides check email?”
She stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at me, pushing her wavy blonde hair out of her face. “Lots of things. I check the balance on my checking account, or the weather. I look at Twitter or Facebook, or I shop.” She shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
I felt a little bit ridiculous, but it had been weighing so heavily on my mind. I found the words tumbling out of me all in a rush. “Angelos been online a lot lately, and I dont think hes just checking e-mail. And I dont think hes having an affair or anything like that. But hes being secretive about it, and I just cant figure out what he could be doing.” I stopped, and felt my cheeks turning red. I didnt blush often, but I was definitely doing it now.
She leaned against the doorframe and grinned playfully at me. “Zach, what do all men do online?” She moved her fist in front of her groin in the classic jerking-off pantomime, and I laughed.
“I thought of that,” I said, “but I dont think thats it.”
“What about Facebook?” she asked. “Its easy to get sucked in there. Finding old friends, playing games, taking quizzes.” Although I rarely spent time on the computer (except in the pursuit of that which Lizzy had just alluded to) I did know what Facebook was.
“Maybe,” I said, skeptical.
“Think about it, Zach,” she said. She was obviously warming to her idea. “Its exactly the type of mundane social moré that Angelo would make fun of. Hed never admit to it. But hes probably just catching up with old classmates.”
“Hes a dropout.”
“That doesnt matter. Ive had people friend me on there who I havent seen since grade school. And people I used to work with too.” She shrugged. “I bet hes just getting in touch with people he knew back in Denver, and he doesnt want you to laugh at him.”
She seemed pretty sure of her opinion, and I knew better than to try to argue with her. “Im sure youre right,” I said. Although I wasnt sure at all.
THE last few nights leading up to our trip were a blur. We had to make sure the store was covered for the week we were in Paris. We had to pack. We had to make arrangements for Geisha. I made haphazard lists on receipts and napkins, which Angelo invariably threw away.
The night before we left, I had ridiculous, frantic dreams: leaving only to find out that Id left the store locked with the keys inside so nobody could get in, and running around an unknown hotel in France while Cole complained about the bill. At two in the morning, I woke with a start. Angelo slept peacefully next to me.
I lay awake for close to two hours, and when finally I slept, it was only to return to that insane dreamland. Jon and Coles ceremony was about to start, and in the way of all dreams, I couldnt find my pants. I begged Angelo to stay in the room with me, and he said that I needed to hurry. Everybody was waiting on me. To top it off, I really needed to pee. The door to every stall in our hotel room (yes, our hotel room had stalls, as well as a snack bar) was locked, and I couldnt very well use the plant in the corner because somehow everyone would know, and Angelo was yelling at me—
“Wake up, Zach!”
My eyes didnt open, but I rose up, out of the hotel room with stalls where I wore no pants. I connected to my body, which was also without pants and very much in my bed. And I really did have to pee.
“Go away,” I said. Or tried to say. I didnt think it came out that way.
“Get up!” I felt the bed shift as Angelo crawled onto it, and then he was pushing me, shaking me, practically jumping on me. “Wake the fuck up!”
“No.” I tried to grab him and pull him close to me. We still made love in the morning more often than not, and I was already anticipating the feel of having him underneath me and the pleasure of sliding into him as he arched against me.
“No time for that,” he said, like he could read my mind—at this point, he probably could—and then his weight was gone, and the cool air hit my flesh as he yanked the comforter off of the bed. “Matt and Jared are gonna be here in less than fifteen minutes, Zach. Unless you want us to drag your ass to the airport in your underwear you better get dressed.”
I rolled over onto my back and cracked my eyes open. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. And then I sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “Its already seven oclock? Why didnt you wake me up earlier?” I asked.
“I tried!”
“When?”
“Twice now. You said you were gettin up—”
&nb
sp; I was out of bed now, trying to find some clean pants, trying not to be irritated. “You could have tried harder—”
“Fuck, Zach! Why the hells it my fuckin problem anyway? How fuckin old are you? You cant set the goddamn alarm clock yourself? Dont bitch at me bout it, man. I been tellin you to get up for the last two fuckin hours—”
Of course he was right, but it didnt stop me from being annoyed. Id had too little sleep, and I was facing a ridiculously long day of travel with an estranged ex waiting for me like the grim reaper at the end of it. And I still had to pee.
The phone rang—probably Matt or Jared calling to say they were on their way. It was a relief because it meant Angelo quit throwing F-bombs at me long enough to go answer it. And I finally got to go to the bathroom.
A few minutes later I was dressed and tucking the last of my toiletries into my suitcase. The good news was, our bags were mostly packed. In addition to our suitcase, we had one carry-on with some puzzle books for me, a book and Paris A to Z for Angelo, plus both mp3 players. One of which was dead.
“Did you grab a charger?” I asked Angelo, who was still annoyed enough that he wouldnt look at me.
“No. Didnt know that was my fuckin problem too.”
Shit. Ten minutes from now hed have forgotten all about it, but until then, hed be completely unbearable. “Can you tell me where it is?”
“In the second bedroom.”
“Can you get it?”
“Why the fuck cant you get it?”
“Because Im not allowed in your room, remember?”
His head snapped up to look at me. He looked puzzled. I was expecting him to snap back. We rarely argued like this, but when we did, we tended to not pull our punches. But this time, he just stared at me, completely mute. Then he walked over to me. He took my hand in his and led me to the closed door of his room. He opened it and led me in.
I hadnt been past the doorway since wed moved his furniture in more than two years before. There wasnt much in the room. A dresser where he still kept his clothes. The twin-size bed was made, but I knew it hadnt been slept in for weeks. Months. Maybe, I realized at that moment, as much as a year. It was covered with books and laundry and boxed puzzles wed worked over the last few months.
He grabbed the charger off of his dresser and pressed it into my hand, stepping up close to me and looking up into my eyes. “Hasnt been my room in a long time,” he said quietly. “I thought you knew that.”
It was such a tiny thing, and yet it touched me. Hed kept himself apart from me at first, and Id accepted his rules, even when they broke my heart. For nearly two and a half years now, Id loved him, and lived with him. Id worked with him and cooked for him and made a home for him. And all that time, I hadnt quite realized that all the barriers were coming down.
I brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Thank you,” I said.
“Dont thank me yet, Zach,” he said, grinning up at me. He put his arms around my neck, pulling me down as he stood on his toes to meet me. His lips were soft but insistent against my own. His thin body pushed against mine. “Ive had this bed six years now,” he said, “and it never has been used properly.” I knew hed never let a man into his apartment back in Arvada, let alone into his bed. Just the thought of what he was suggesting made me moan, and he laughed, grinding harder against me. “Think we have enough time?” he asked.
But before I could even answer, Matt pounded on the door—and of course we could always tell it was him because anybody else wouldve just rung the damn bell—and I sighed. Matt didnt bother waiting for us to answer. We heard the door open, and he yelled out, “You two ready to go?”
“Sure are,” Angelo said, although only loud enough for me to hear, and the glint in his eyes told me he meant something very different than Matt did. But he kissed me quickly on the chin and let me go. He turned and walked out, leaving me standing alone in his room.
Except it wasnt his room anymore.
THERE were apparently no direct flights from Denver to Paris. Between the layover and the twelve-hour flight and the time change, wed arrive in Paris around nine-thirty the following morning. Twelve hours on a plane would normally have been hell, but it turned out Cole had booked us all in first class.
“I cant believe this!” Angelo said. “Must have cost him a fortune!” “He can afford it,” Jared said.
Matt, being so tall, was especially happy to have the extra leg room.
Hed lightened up a lot about the whole Super Bowl thing, but I could tell he was still apprehensive about facing the man whod spent so many nights in Jareds bed. It was a feeling I could relate to well. The thought of seeing Jon again had my stomach in knots. I felt I could have faced him on my own, but the idea of dealing with him and Angelo together was enough to make me sick. I felt like Id barely eaten in weeks.
I turned to look at Angelo, sitting next to me, reading. His long black hair hid his face from me, and I resisted the urge to reach out and brush it aside. He didnt look at me, but he seemed to sense my eyes on him. He reached over and put his hand on mine, squeezing my fingers briefly before letting go to turn the page.
The two years since Vegas had changed us. More importantly, theyd changed him. He was stronger now, and far more secure in our relationship than he had been back then. Still, I wasnt sure what to expect once we got to Paris. In Vegas, wed only had to see Jon once, at dinner, and then those few minutes the next day when he showed up to apologize. In Paris, wed be spending a week with him. I hoped Angelo would handle it better than last time.
I hoped I would as well.
“Matt, look at this,” Angelo suddenly said, handing his book across the aisle to Matt. “Its about your amazed moments! This guy had em too!”
Matt looked down at the page, and his eyes widened in surprise. He flipped the book closed to look at the cover, and then looked over at Angelo, one eyebrow up. “Youre reading poetry?”
“Yeah. So what?” Ang asked, although he didnt look as confident about it as he sounded.
“Its poetry!”
Angelo sighed. “I know, man, but see, a few weeks ago, I was in that used book store in Boulder, and the guy had all his poetry books on sale for a dollar cause he said no one buys em—”
“Theres a reason for that you know,” Matt said, but Ang ignored him.
“And I never read any poetry before, so I thought, why the fuck not? So I asked the guy which one I should buy, cause I didnt want it to be too hard to understand, and he said this one.” He was talking faster now, and his cheeks were turning red. He and Matt were like brothers—they liked more than anything to give each other a hard time. But on some level, I knew Angelo longed for Matts approval too. “Just read the fuckin poem, Matt.”
Matt looked skeptical, but he opened the book to where his finger had marked the page. It must not have been very long because it only took him a minute to read it. He looked over at Angelo in confusion. “Youre saying Jareds a wild rose?”
“Im sayin hes your wild rose.”
Matt shook his head. “Angelo,” he said as he handed the book back across the aisle, “as soon as we get to Paris, Im buying you some porn.”
Angelo laughed as he took the book back. “As long as theres no chicks in it this time.”
“Amen to that,” Jared said from the other side of Matt.
I was as surprised as Matt to learn what Angelo was reading. And yet, it didnt surprise me a bit that he would decide to try something, simply because he never had before. “Do you like the poetry?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Some of it, I guess. I mean, some of it I still dont get. And this guy writes a lot bout God, so I dont like those so much. Theres some bout farmers, and theyre kinda lame. But Im startin to see why people dig it, too, cause sometimes you find ones that say things that maybe you want to say but cant, you know? Like, they say what your hearts thinkin.”
“Like the poem about Matts amazed moments?”
He nodded. “I found our poem, too, Zach.” He was blu
shing again, and I could see that look in his eyes asking me not to laugh at him. “Wanna see it?”
“Of course.”
He flipped to a page he had dog-eared and handed me the book. It was a poem called “The Country of Marriage.” I tried not to look dismayed at how long it was, and like he was reading my mind, Angelo said, “Not the whole thing. Just the part I marked.” He pointed to the fifth stanza, where he had highlighted the first several lines. “Thats what I would say to you, Zach,” he said quietly. “If I knew how.”
The first few lines made no sense to me—something about funds and being in the dark—but the part in the middle was clear. “„You are the known place to which the unknown is always leading me back,” I read, looking up at him. “She was his north too.”
I could see that he was relieved, both that I hadnt laughed and that I understood. “That parts you,” he said. “This part at the end is me, see? „I possess nothing worthy to give you.” He shrugged. “Theres only me.”
He said it as if it was an insufficient offering. I could not have disagreed more. I put down the book and took his hand, turning it over so I could kiss his palm. “Angel,” I told him, “youre all I ever wanted anyway.”
IF THERE was anything magical about Paris, it sure wasnt evident in the airport. Underneath the warm smell of fresh-baked bread was the unmistakable odor of urine and stale smoke. After the recycled air on the plane, it was a bit overwhelming, and whatever appetite Id had was suddenly gone.
Cole had a car waiting for us, and Angelo wasnt the only one staring out the window with wide eyes as we made our way to the hotel, which turned out to be located in a wide open plaza that Angelo told me was called the Place Vendôme.