The Boyfriend Swap

by Meredith Schorr

  Interrupting my thoughts, Anne Marie said, “What’s Will like? The way Sidney talks about him, I bet he’s hot. I can’t believe you grew up with him. What a small world.”

  “Crazy, right?” I said into my coffee cup. I was desperate to confide my puppy love for Will to Anne Marie, but I couldn’t do it in front of Perry. I also felt guilty given her relationship with Sidney.

  Perry stood up and stretched his arms in the air. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me,” he said with a wink before walking out of the kitchen.

  Anne Marie stared after him. “His parents must have fed him a lot of milk as a child.”

  “They certainly fed his ego,” I said with a laugh.

  “You gonna join him?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

  “No,” I yelped, horrified. It was one thing to have sex with Perry behind closed doors in my bedroom, but I would never shower with him while Anne Marie was home.

  Anne Marie giggled. “Not sure I’d have the same restraint.”

  “Obviously, I’m the more considerate roommate,” I said, before sticking my tongue out at her. I stood up and patted my belly. “Thanks so much for breakfast. Just what I needed to fortify myself for some research. I’ll do the dishes, kick Perry out, and spend the next few hours with my nose in the internet.” I had told Anne Marie what Lynn had said about the music program, and even though I was afraid of what I might find, I wanted to see if other schools in the metropolitan area had suffered a similar fate. I’d considered commiserating with Lance, but thought better of it. If he hadn’t heard the rumors, I didn’t want to stress him out before I verified whether there was any truth to them.

  Waving me away, Anne Marie said, “Leave the dishes. You can do mine tomorrow.”

  I smiled wide. “I take back what I said. You are the best roomie ever.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  A few minutes later, I jolted from my desk chair as drops of water landed on my arm. “What the…” I looked up to find Perry, naked aside from an eggplant-colored terrycloth towel wrapped low around his hips, grinning at me. Wiping the wetness from my arm with my hand, I said, “You startled me.”

  “I know. You looked so serious hovering over your computer like that.” He stood behind me and placed a hand on each of my shoulders. “What are you reading?”

  I sighed. “Did you know eighty percent of schools nationwide have been affected by budget cuts since 2008, and fewer schools offer art programs than a decade ago?”

  “Isn’t that good news?” he asked, squeezing my shoulders.

  I whipped around to face him. “In what way?”

  “You teach music, not art,” he said matter-of-factly.

  My eyes bugged out. “Seriously? First of all, ‘art’ includes visual arts and performing arts, and second of all, I don’t want Miss Cassidy to lose her job either. Besides, don’t children deserve a well-rounded education? There’s more to learning than reading and math.” My heart slammed against my chest at both the unfairness of it all and Perry’s nonchalance.

  He knelt so we were eye to eye. “Whoa, sweetie. Relax. You’re getting riled up over nothing.” He paused and I watched as his eyes scrolled the piece. “The article mentions Chicago, D.C., Los Angeles, and Philadelphia, but there’s no mention of New York.”

  I didn’t respond. What if the Board of Education decided my school should be the guinea pig for these budget cuts in New York?

  “What can I do to make you feel better?” he asked, snaking two fingers under the top of his towel suggestively.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. I was more concerned than ever about the future of my school and in no mood for sexy time. Perry wasn’t the type to dwell, and I mostly took my cues from him to maintain perspective. But sometimes, like now, I wished he’d take things more seriously.

  “I have an idea. We’re not leaving for your folks until Wednesday. We should go to BOB Bar on Tuesday night.”

  “Dancing to old-school hip hop would definitely help loosen me up, but aren’t you working Tuesday night?”

  Perry frowned. “Yeah, you’re right.” He glanced around my room with a pensive expression for a moment before tapping a finger to his head. “Got it. I have my casting director workshop tomorrow afternoon, but I’m free after. Let’s go to the Birdland cast party.”

  One of Perry’s regular hangouts for years, the Open Mic Night at Birdland brought together superstars in theater with up-and-comers, but after he snagged his first commercial—a teeth-whitening bit that aired mostly during late-night television and infomercials—he’d been less interested in the Broadway crowd and hungry for more screen work. Perry’s manager, Wilson, encouraged him to keep a toe in all aspects of performing arts, claiming if Matthew Morrison could do it, so could he. I didn’t often agree with Wilson, but I did in this instance. “Really?” I glanced up at Perry hopefully.

  He nodded. “Anything to get you to smile.”

  I grinned at him. It was a bandage, not a solution, but it would lift my mood temporarily. “Mission accomplished.” I tugged at the bottom of his towel until it fell to the ground. “What were you saying before about making me feel better?”

  Sidney

  I sat on my crème-colored English roll-arm sofa and rolled my eyes up to the high ceiling of my living room while my father droned on about work over the phone. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I need to head out soon.” After Will finished his shower, we were going for a late brunch at one of the many trendy tapas places in my Lower East Side neighborhood.

  “I promised Scott we’d sit down with him at Christmas to discuss the rampant infringement of their assets in the Pacific Rim. Are you caught up?”

  “Almost.” I leaned over and straightened out the pile of industry-related magazines I kept on my leather-upholstered ottoman coffee table. “Do you think Christmas dinner is the best time to discuss business? Maybe we can, you know, eat, drink, and be merry for a while?”

  My dad harrumphed. “The client comes first, Sidney. If this is your way of saying you’re behind in your research, get to it.”

  “I’m not behind. I’m merely trying to enjoy what’s left of my weekend and encourage some semblance of holiday cheer at the party.” The shower turned off, which meant Will would be ready to go in less than twenty minutes. I preferred to use that time admiring Will’s fresh-out-of-the-shower body over discussing clients with my dad. “I really need to get out of here. I’m meeting some friends for lunch.” If my dad knew the “friend” I was joining was already in my apartment, he’d never let me off the phone. His time was more valuable than anyone else’s.

  “Your mother created a Word document with the guest list and included a column to indicate if they were family, clients, or potential clients.” He paused. “It probably wasn’t necessary to include family, but better to be overly inclusive than miss someone important, right? I’m emailing it to you now so you can familiarize yourself with anyone new. I just sent it. Did you get it?”

  I buried my head between my legs. “I’m offline. I’m on my way out to eat, remember?”

  “Can’t you bring it to the restaurant? You can read it between courses.”

  With a dejected sigh, I rose from the couch and leaned my hips from side to side in a stretch. When my fitted white sweater rose over my belly, I pulled up my low-rise jeans. “Great idea, Dad. I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up before he could respond and walked to my bedroom with a renewed sense of dread for the upcoming holiday. The night before, Will had adamantly refused to take part in the boyfriend swap. He said he wasn’t comfortable with it and that his boyfriend services weren’t on the auction block. My reference to Perry as a “blond god” didn’t help things. When I realized Will was jealous, I promised he had nothing to worry about. Perry was gorgeous, but from what I’d witnessed, he didn’t have much else going f
or him. But Will wouldn’t back down from his firm refusal, and I’d promised to drop the subject. It wasn’t worth risking our burgeoning relationship to argue.

  I’d tried to keep my vow, but I was afraid bringing Will with me to Christmas would have disastrous consequences. Will purposely chose an employer that embraced the work/life balance. Subjecting Will to my father, whose motto was, “Work/life balance? What’s that?” would be cruel. Even worse, my mother had been burying me with texts about Perry: How did we meet? Was it serious? Did he drink wine, beer, or hard alcohol? Did I want to invite his parents too? Was he a leftie or a righty? At some point, I’d come up with a way to explain Perry’s sudden name change to Will, but I wished it wouldn’t come to that. I shuddered at how much time I’d lost scrolling through her multiple messages and ignoring her questions. She was going to suffocate me to the point where I’d want to be holed away from everyone, including Will. For both of our sakes, I had to convince him to change his mind about the swap.

  As I heard his footsteps approach my bedroom from the bathroom, I brought my phone to my mouth and said, “Yes, he’s a lawyer.” While silently counting to ten, I peered out my bedroom window and down eight flights at the pre-war buildings across the street. My newly constructed complex was one of the few high-rise apartments among century-old tenement buildings.

  “A third year at Kensworth and Associates,” I said. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe. Four, five, six. “Good memory. They were opposing counsel on the Russell case.” I let my head fall back and groaned. “Yes, he’s intelligent, Dad. It’s a good firm.” I turned around and feigned a shocked expression when I saw Will leaning against my bedroom door. My father’s inability to take a hint had made me too late to admire Will’s freshly showered naked body. He was already fully clothed in blue jeans and an olive-colored sweater that brought out the green in his eyes. Placing my hand over the phone, I whispered, “Sorry.”

  Will raised and lowered his shoulders in a shrug before sitting on the edge of my bed and lacing up his Jack Purcell Signature sneakers.

  “No, I’m not going to ask him to do research for one of our cases during Christmas. Have you heard of it? The one day a year almost everyone besides movie-theater and Chinese-restaurant employees gets the day off? He doesn’t work for you.” A tear lodged in my eye as I became more fully invested in my manipulation.

  “Is Mom there?” I asked no one. “Well, Aaron Davenport will have to find his own date because I’m spoken for.” I rolled my eyes at Will. “Okay, tell her I called. Yes. Bye.”

  I placed the phone on the windowsill and stared out the window. My hands were shaking and my stomach felt heavy. I wasn’t sure if it was a result of guilt or desperation.

  “You all right, Sid?”

  I turned away from the window and joined Will on the bed. Wiping my eye, I said, “I’ve been better.” I hated lying to him, but the more I allowed an idea to fester in my brain, the more determined I became to make it a reality—no matter what.

  Will smiled sheepishly. “You weren’t kidding about your dad, huh?”

  I sighed and rested my head against his shoulder. With my eyes closed, I said, “I wish I was.”

  “I only heard your end of the conversation, but I can see how this might be equally painful for both of us.” He stroked my hair. “Do you honestly think bringing Perry instead of me is a good idea?”

  “I do. Crazy as it sounds,” I said without opening my eyes. “I know you think I’m being a drama queen, but I only want to protect you. Your first introduction to my family should be during a shorter dose of time, not Christmas.”

  “It’s only for one day, right?”

  Finally opening my eyes, I turned to face him. He was so close to bending, I could feel it. “My family expects me from the twenty-third to the twenty-sixth. Since Robyn’s from out of state, I assume she’s planning a longer stay too.”

  Will stood up and whistled through his teeth. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll reach out to some of my old friends from high school and if any of them are heading to Bala Cynwyd for the holidays, I’ll go with Robyn. At least I’ll have extra incentive.”

  I jumped off the bed and hurled myself into his arms. “Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said as I hugged him.

  “We’ll need ground rules,” Will said, separating from me.

  “I don’t think we need to create a handbook. We’re all grownups. Be as convincing as possible without actually getting naked and it should be fine, but we can talk about it later.” I wanted to bask in my victory for a while before ironing out the details.

  Will chuckled. “So anything goes as long as Robyn and I are clothed?”

  “Don’t sass me, Brady,” I instructed, but a visual of Robyn and Will naked together appeared before me, and a ping of jealousy stabbed me in the gut. The emotion exited as swiftly as it arrived. Even if Will found Robyn attractive—he was a man after all—Robyn wasn’t the type. Despite only meeting her on two occasions, and notwithstanding Perry’s comments about her purity score, I’d bet my quarterly bonus Robyn would never screw someone else’s boyfriend. I wouldn’t either, and I was fairly certain Will would take the moral high ground as well. Just the same, I reiterated, “No rule book is necessary, but trust your gut. If it strikes you as inappropriate, it probably is.”

  “And the same applies to you and the ‘blond god,’ right?” Will asked with a serious tone.

  “Of course.” With any luck, I’d spend just enough time with Perry to introduce him as my boyfriend and then cut him loose to wear out the piano keys or serenade the kitchen staff.

  Will cocked his head to the side. “How will you explain bringing home an actor after just telling your dad your boyfriend is a lawyer?”

  My stomach clenched. If I told Will the truth—that my folks had no idea what my boyfriend did for a living—how could I explain the telephone conversation with my father he’d just overheard? My sprightly mind coming to the rescue, I said, “I purposely keep my family guessing when it comes to my relationships. They’ll be surprised for a minute but will move on quickly.” I breathed a sigh of relief and gave mental thanks to the god of quick thinking for being so generous with me.

  My belly grumbled in hunger, but first things first. “Can you call your friends before lunch?” I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my egg-white frittata until I was certain it was a done deal.

  Robyn

  “Ms. Lane?”

  I stopped humming along to “Jingle Bell Rock” and followed the sound of the high-pitched but soft voice to where Aimee, one of my star fifth-grade students, was leaning against the classroom door. I glanced at my wall clock. “Hi there. I’m surprised you’re still here.” I’d stayed after school to remove the December decorations from my classroom wall. Then I remembered Aimee was part of the after-school program.

  Aimee chewed on her lip. “I have to go to the doctor for my throat over winter break.”

  Her face was hidden by her curly red hair, but I could tell from the tremor in her voice she was on the verge of tears. I pulled out a chair and said, “Here, sit,” before planting myself in a chair too. I pushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “What’s the matter with your throat, sweetie?” Her voice did have a distinctively hoarse quality to it.

  “It’s sore,” she responded before staring at her shoes.

  “Do you have a cold?” My first telltale sign I was coming down with something was a sore throat.

  “I don’t think so,” Aimee replied as a fat tear dropped down her cheek.

  I scooted my chair closer to her and studied her face. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s hurt for a long time.” Aimee averted eye contact, now focusing on my currently empty walls rather than her shoes.

  “What’s a long time?” To kids, three days was an eternity.

  “Since the beginning of the scho
ol year. I didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sing in the concert,” she said quickly before inhaling a huge gulp of air.

  Even as I burst with pride at how much value Aimee placed on the school performances, my heart wrenched that she felt she needed to keep her pain a secret. And if she was fearful of missing one concert, how would she react if the entire music program was abolished? Don’t go there. I brushed the thought to the side. “Did you tell your parents?”

  Aimee nodded, her teeth threatening to leave a permanent dent in her lips. “Yesterday.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I have to go to the EMT.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I repeated, “EMT?”

  “Uh-huh. The throat doctor.”

  “Oh.” I smiled in amusement. “The ENT—ear, nose, and throat.”

  Aimee frowned. “That’s what I said.”

  There was no point in correcting her, so I nodded. “I understand you’re worried. Doctors are yucky, but they also have the power to make you feel better. I’m glad it’s out in the open.”

  “What if he tells me I can never sing again?” she asked, her chin quivering.

  I pushed my lips together. “I bet you overdid it with all the solos I gave you and your voice needs to rest a little. What better timing for a nap than winter vacation?”

  Aimee looked at me with cautious hope. “You think?”

  Nodding eagerly, I said, “Sure. So go easy on the Christmas carols, okay?”

  Her face brightened. “Okay.”

  I beamed at her. “Because I need you good and rested for the spring concert.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Promise?” I extended my pinky toward her.

  “Promise,” she said, entwining her pinky with mine.

  I let go and stood up. “It’s settled then. Let’s get you to the auditorium with the others. Do you want me to walk you back?”