by Marie Sexton
Angelo sat next to Matt, and I found myself next to Jon once again. “Do you still run?” he asked me as he poured coffee for me.
“Most mornings,” I said.
“Me too,” he said. “You should join me.”
I wasnt sure how I felt about that. Once upon a time, jogging together had been routine for us. After Jon, I hadnt had a running partner again until Coda, where Matt joined me once or twice a week. Still, most of the time, I ran alone. I looked over at Angelo, who was watching Jon warily. I was pretty sure he wanted me to say no.
“Oh, honey, Zach doesnt want to jog while hes on vacation!” Cole said, coming to my rescue. “And if todays any indication, Angelo will be keeping him a bit too busy in the mornings anyway.” He grinned over at Angelo, who grinned right back. They really were way too much alike.
“Ill go with you,” Matt said to Jon, and the surprise I felt was mirrored on Jons face. But he also looked pleased.
“Great!” he said. “Its less of a chore when I have company.”
We were halfway through our meal when George arrived. I was almost as nervous about seeing him as I had been about seeing Jon. He pulled up a chair between Angelo and Matt while Cole called out to the waiter. I hardly recognized George, and yet, looking at him, he wasnt so different than he had been. His waist was a little thicker, and his hair a bit more gray. But those were superficial things. There was something else very different about him that I couldnt quite put my finger on. And then he turned to me.
“Zach!” he said, smiling. “What the hell are you doing here?”
And that was when it hit me. He was smiling. I wasnt sure Id ever seen him smile before.
“Im not sure, to tell you the truth,” I said, and he laughed.
“Zach and Jared are friends,” Jon explained, “and Cole and Jared have known each other since college, which is how Cole and I met.”
George looked like he was still trying to unravel that when Matt said, “George, youre a Cardinals fan?” George turned to him in surprise. I wondered how Matt had known. It took me a second to realize the little logo on Georges polo shirt was a red bird head.
“I am!”
“Tough break in that divisional playoff,” Matt said.
“Everybody knows the Rams cheat,” George said, obviously delighted to have somebody he could complain to about it. “Now the bastards are in the damn Super Bowl.” He raised his eyebrows at Matt. “Not a Rams fan, are you?”
“No, sir. Im a Chiefs fan.”
“So am I, this week,” George said, grinning.
Jared jumped in then, saying something about pass rushing that went right over my head, and the three of them quickly devolved into footballspeak.
“Well,” Jon said under his breath, “at least I dont have to worry about him having nobody to talk to.”
That day we saw the Sacré Coeur Basilica. It sat on Montmartre, the highest point in the city. It was a huge white building, monstrously elaborate. It had one giant dome—too long to be called onion-shaped, but too curved to be called conical—and two smaller domes on each side. There were several smaller ones on spires around it and arched windows absolutely everywhere. Inside were more arches than I could count and an elaborately painted ceiling showing Christ surrounded by what appeared to be hoards of angels.
“The guy that wrote A to Z didnt like this place,” Angelo said. “The only thing he liked bout it was the view from the terrace.”
“What do you think?” I asked him.
He turned to me, his eyes full of excitement. “I think its amazing.”
“I find it rather garish, myself,” Cole said to him. “Ill take you to Sainte-Chapelle tomorrow.”
“Really?” Angelo asked, with his usual wide-eyed enthusiasm. “Thats one of the places I marked in the book. It said Sainte-Chapelle had the best stained glass windows in Paris. Maybe all of Europe.”
“Thats true, doll. When you get inside, youll wonder how it even stands.”
After that, we wandered around the streets of Montmartre for a while. We saw the Moulin Rouge and the Chat Noir, and visited the small vineyard on the Rue Saint Vincent. Angelo was amazed by it all, but to me, everything looked the same. Flat-faced white buildings, gray brick sidewalks and narrow streets. It was like a maze. I never knew which way to turn, and I found it terribly disconcerting.
Cole took us to another fantastic restaurant for lunch, which once again took nearly three hours and left me with a pretty spectacular buzz. “Cole,” Matt said as we were finishing our meal, “is there any chance of finding a place to watch the Super Bowl on Sunday night?” He, Jared, and George had obviously been discussing this possibility all morning because they leaned forward on the table and looked over at Cole expectantly.
“Im sure I dont know, buttercup.”
Matts smile was a bit too tightlipped to be genuine. “You might at least know where to check, which is more than any of the rest of us know. Vanderbilt.”
“Thats not my name.”
Matts grin became a bit more smart-assed. “I know. But since you wont call any of us by our names—”
“Thats not true at all,” Cole said. “I call George by his name.”
“And Zach,” Angelo said.
Every single person at the table turned to look at him, and he seemed uncomfortable to suddenly find himself the center of attention. “What?” he asked. “Its true.”
Now everybodys gaze swung back to Cole. Cole was grinning at Angelo as if Ang had just discovered some deep dark secret.
It hadnt occurred to me that Cole referred to me by name, when everybody else had pet names. It apparently hadnt occurred to Jon either. “Angelos right,” Jon said. “You dont even call me by my name half the time. Whys Zach so special?”
Cole turned to Jon with wide-eyed mock innocence. “I dont know, love,” he said. “Does it bother you?”
It took Jon a second to digest that. At first I thought he was going to be angry, but then he sighed and shook his head in exasperation.
Jared was looking at Jon with obvious sympathy. “Youre either a saint or a glutton for punishment,” he said.
Jon laughed. “It does feel like a fine line sometimes.”
Cole didnt respond at all, but after everybody else had looked away, going back to their own meals and their own conversations, I saw him look over at Jon. He put his hand on Jons thigh. He looked up at Jon through his bangs and smiled.
Jon practically melted. He put his hand on top of Coles and smiled at him. He leaned over to kiss him, although Cole turned away at the last moment, and Jons kiss landed on his temple. Jon didnt seem to mind a bit.
I told myself the twinge I felt had nothing to do with jealousy.
Once we finished eating, Cole took us to the Eiffel Tower. We spent a couple of hours wandering through the displays and shops on the second floor before heading to the top. Down on the ground, it was easy for me to remember where we were, especially when we were in the older part of the city, but from the height of the tower, the spell was broken. Especially when we looked south, where smog hovered and modern-day skyscrapers rose up out of the trees.
“Isnt it amazing?” Angelo asked.
“It looks like any other city to me,” I said.
“Come on, Zach! Are you kiddin me? Think about how long some of those buildings have been around. Longer than anything in America. Think about where were standin right now. This tower was built more than a hundred years ago. Think about how many other people have stood here. Parents and kids, and other couples who were in love.” He took my hand and looked up at me, excitement shining in his eyes. “Doesnt it make you feel like youre part of somethin? Somethin big and magical that stretches all the way back through time? Like youre part of history?”
“It makes me feel like just another tourist.”
It was the truth, but I regretted saying it immediately because it made his smile a little less brilliant. He shook his head at me. “You have no sense of romanticism.”
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After nearly an hour at the top, we went back down and stood in the Champ-de-Mars to see the tower fully illuminated. It was kind of pretty. But in my mind, even the Eiffel Tower couldnt compare to the beauty and awe on Angelos face when he saw it.
COLE arrived at our room early the next morning to take Angelo to Sainte-Chapelle, after which they planned to tour several of the smaller art museums (smaller meaning only that they werent the Louvre). I was invited, too, of course, but I chose to sleep late instead.
I arrived downstairs to find George just sitting down in the dining room. “Zach!” he said, waving me over. “Join me. Dont make me eat alone.”
Although I had initially been nervous about seeing George again, Id discovered the previous day how easy he was to get along with, and I was happy to have somebody to sit with.
“I didnt realize you and Jon stayed in touch all these years,” he said, after wed ordered.
“We didnt,” I said. “But two years ago, Angelo and I were in Vegas with Matt and Jared, and we ran into him there. Thats when Jared met him and gave him Coles number.” Or maybe he gave Cole Jons number. It didnt matter.
George thought for a second, his eyes shifting away from me as he thought back, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “I remember that trip,” he said. “Who punched him?”
“Angelo.”
He nodded, chuckling a little. “I should have known.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Im betting Jon tried to win you back.”
That didnt seem to require an answer. I had no desire to talk about that trip with him. Instead I said, “Are you pleased theyre getting married?”
“Extremely. Im happy for Jon.”
“You like Cole?”
“Im glad Jon found him,” he said. “Dont get me wrong—that boys a fruitcake—but Im actually pretty fond of him.” He grinned at me. “Dont you dare tell him I said that though. Ill deny it.”
“I wont,” I said, laughing. “Your secrets safe with me.”
“The thing is, Zach, hes good for Jonny. And he makes him happy.” And I thought it was funny that George apparently called him Jonny now too. “If hes happy, Im happy.” He glanced at me warily. “Im sorry I couldnt think like that when it was you.”
I shrugged, trying to ignore that weight in my chest, trying not to think about the fact that if his father had been more accepting all those years ago, Jon might not have felt the need to prove himself. He might not have felt the need to push me to do more with my life, and we might have gone on being happy together forever. “It doesnt matter now,” I said to myself as much as to George. Luckily, our food came then, which saved me from having to say more.
“You know, Zach, Jon had a couple of serious relationships between you and Cole.”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “I didnt know that,” I said, although I certainly would have assumed so. It had been ten years, after all.
“None of them ever lived up to you.”
That I definitely didnt expect.
“How could they not measure up?” I asked. “I wasnt good enough. Thats why he left me.”
“Thats just it, Zach. You werent good enough, and yet, you were the standard he held every other man up to. And they all came up short.”
“It doesnt make any sense,” I said.
“It does, when you think about it. Until Cole, his relationships always ended for the same reason: because he didnt really want them for who they were. He wanted them for who he thought they could be.” I didnt know about the others of course, but for myself, it fit.
“What about Cole?” I asked.
“Cole was different. Cole was so flighty, and Jon didnt take him seriously at all. He didnt look at what they had as a real relationship. But Cole snuck up on him, and when things started to get serious, Jon did what he always does and started expecting Cole to change. And Cole told him quite clearly exactly where he could stick those expectations, too.”
I couldnt help but laugh. “I can imagine.”
“For the first time ever, Jon quit worrying about making his partner a better man, and started looking at himself. And he realized then that the best way to make himself happy was to make Cole happy first. Thats why Coles so good for him,” he said. He looked over at me with a question in his eyes. “I think maybe thats why your Angelos good for you.”
I was surprised at how much he seemed to know already. “I think youre right,” I said.
“I told Jonny that, too, but he didnt understand,” he said. “He never is as impressed by my brilliance as he should be.” He looked up, past me to the door and smiled. “Speak of the devil.”
“Talking about me, Dad?” Jon asked as he sat down. His tone was half-joking, but his eyes on George were serious.
“We were, but well stop now that youre here,” George said, without a hint of embarrassment. “Whats everybody doing today?”
“Cole and Angelo already left,” I said.
“So did Matt and Jared,” Jon said.
“Really?” I was surprised and a bit dismayed. Served me right for sleeping so late.
“Matt and I went running early this morning, and he said they were doing one of the day trips to Versailles.”
“Oh.” I hoped my discomfort over being left alone with Jon for the day wasnt too obvious. “What are you doing, George?”
“I dont know yet,” he said, “but Im here for three weeks, so dont worry about me. I might just spend the day catching up on my sleep.”
I contemplated my options: trying to find my own way around Paris, sitting alone in my room all day, or spending it with Jon. Maybe I could sit in the bar and get unbelievably drunk. But as it turned out, the choice had been made for me.
“Zach, I booked us on a vineyard tour,” Jon said, and I wondered if the feeling in my chest was joy or fear. “I know it was a bit presumptuous, but you were sleeping, and there wasnt much time. Its a private tour of three Provence vineyards. It leaves in about an hour, and well be back just before dinner.”
My breakfast was suddenly not sitting so well in my stomach, but I did my level best to smile. “That sounds great.” At least Id have a perfectly good excuse to get drunk.
THEtour with Jon was simultaneously better and worse than Id expected. Jon and I had always been able to talk easily, and once I managed to
relax a bit, conversation flowed smoothly. He asked about my family and about Coda. He talked about his moms death and the way his relationship with George had grown.
We never talked about Angelo. We never talked about Cole.
By the time we were halfway through the first vineyard, I felt like we were almost back to normal. Whatever “normal” meant. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into old routines, and yet there were subtle changes that emphasized how different things were. He still opened every door for me, but I never felt his hand on the small of my back as he entered behind me. He still leaned toward me as we talked, and yet, he stood just a bit too far away. And he still seemed to reach for me when he wanted to get my attention, but he always stopped just short of making contact.
The worst part was, I found myself missing it. Id always liked that he touched me in public, although in somewhat casual ways. Id liked the way he leaned closer when we talked, making every conversation feel intimate.
We were served a light lunch at the second vineyard, but it wasnt enough to counteract the many wines wed sampled. The alcohol made the boundaries fade. It blurred the lines between now and then. I found myself wanting to bridge the gap that had formed between us. I wanted to step closer. I caught myself wanting to reach for him. I had to fight the urge to do the things I had done when wed been together, like putting my hand on his wrist as it rested on the table between us, or intentionally nudging his knee with mine when he sat next to me at the bar.
And in fighting those urges, sometimes I lost. By the third vineyard, I felt like I was flirting with disaster.
We were st
anding at the bar in the tasting room. We were the only people there, not counting the young woman pouring our samples. It was cold and gray and rainy outside, but inside, it was warm and comfortable. The room was small and intimate. There was a fireplace in the corner, crackling away, and wed stripped off our coats and scarves.
Jon leaned on the bar next to me. “I think the Chardonnays overrated,” he said. “What do you think?”
I knew I was standing too close. I knew I was looking at him a bit too much. Part of me knew it was wrong, but I liked the fact that I saw appreciation in his eyes when I did it. Even after all these years, I wanted his approval. I wanted to make him happy. “I think Im drunk enough, I cant tell the difference.”
He laughed, and I looked over to see him watching me, his eyes intense. And then, he did move closer. He did put his hand on the small of my back, and he leaned dangerously close. “Thank you for coming with me today, Zach.”
My heart was suddenly racing, and I felt a bit giddy. “It was a good idea.”
“We were always going to do this,” he said, and his hand moved higher on my back. Did I lean closer to him as he did it, or was that just the wine? “We talked a lot about touring the vineyards in California,” he said.
“I wish we had.” And at that moment, I meant it. It wasnt that I wished we were still together. I just wished I had more good memories in my head than bad.
He was watching me, looking into my eyes. It would have been so easy to kiss him. It would have been easy to lose myself to him again. Not because I still loved him, but because I suddenly remembered so clearly how good it had felt when I had.
And then I thought about Angelo, and I immediately felt guilty. I loved Angelo beyond all reason. The last thing in the world Id want to do is hurt him. And when I looked at Jon, I saw my guilt mirrored back at me. There wasnt a doubt in my mind he was thinking of Cole.
We both looked down at the ground, as if we could see the yawning chasm of lost years between us.