by Pat Henshaw
“They told me we had to wait. You need to explain that we’re taking your reserved table next door,” he spit at Mitch.
Mitch shook his head.
“It’s already been claimed by someone who had been waiting in here. It’ll be your turn soon. Sit down and have something to drink. Chill out, Glen.” Mitch gave an unpleasant grin. “Besides, I thought you said a few years back that I needed to move on. You can’t suddenly decide to follow me around. We’re done. Remember?”
Glen’s eyes lit up. Hope bloomed in his gaze. “I was wrong. That was then, baby. This is now.” His hand came up like he was going to touch Mitch’s cheek.
If I thought the drama was thick last night or earlier tonight, none of it was as intense as Glen’s interest in his ex at that moment.
Suddenly, I felt Mitch’s hand grab mine and lift it. “This is now, Glen. You are then.”
Mitch kissed the back of my hand and tugged me toward the door.
Me? I was now? Wait. What? Wow. Did I want to be Mitch’s now?
“It’s time we left, baby,” he murmured, running his thumb across my hand.
Baby? I turned to him, excited and a little confused. Was he for real? Did I really want this? Him?
When I glanced back at Glen, his eyes were filled with venom.
“I hate you.” He sounded angry in a childish, pissy way. Like someone had stolen his toy.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” I mumbled, but I wondered why he was so upset. They both agreed it had been years ago for them.
Besides, on a different level, couldn’t he see that Mitch was so far out of my league that we could be on different planets? Sure, I might hope we could get together and be happy for longer than a few months. But was there a chance for that, truthfully?
Out in Rita, I said, “I’ve got two questions. One I’d like an honest answer to. The other you can answer if you’re comfortable doing it.”
I needed to clear my head with some truth.
“Shoot,” he said and started the car.
“Which is your favorite club?” I figured that would be the answer to what kind of person he was besides an astute businessman who knew how to sum up people and give them what they wanted.
“Oh, that’s easy. Hey Jude! Raven’s voice makes me remember my heart. I’m mostly a guy who wants to be a family man, going out on a weekend to relax and hear some smooth jazz and have a stiff drink. My club days are definitely in the rearview mirror.” He pulled into traffic. “What’s the other question? I’m guessing it’s the one I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to.”
“Yeah. Are you using me to make Glen angry?”
For a moment the car was quiet except for the road noises around us. Then…
“What? No! I’m not using you. I like you. I thought we were, I don’t know, dating, getting closer. I’m not using you. Glen and I are finished. We have been for years.”
This was the most flustered I’d ever heard him.
“Look, here’s the thing, Mitch. I’m really confused. It’s just that I don’t know what endgame you’re looking for.” Well, actually I was relieved that he felt a little more than friendship for me. I was starting to believe he seriously wanted more.
“I swear I don’t ever want to get Glen back. You can bank on that. If nothing else, I can see a lot more clearly what an asshole he really is—and probably always was.”
Then he was quiet for a few blocks of stop-and-go before he continued. “This weekend I wanted to show you my world and see my life through your eyes. You’ve made me realize through the last two days and all the rallies and card games and other things we’ve been doing together what I’m missing.”
At the next stop light, he turned to me. “I used to think the Bay Area was the whole world, and if I could make my mark here, I could control the world and really be living. But seeing my life through your eyes, I realize I’ve put myself in a narrow box, and I don’t like the box at all. My life revolves around business deals, and my friends turn out to be associates. You’ve opened up the real world of friendship and fun for fun’s sake to me.”
Yeah, well, in a crazy way, I could understand what he meant. I’d now seen more of the city than the rodeo at the Cow Palace, country music festivals at Golden Gate Park, and ball games at Levi’s Stadium, O.co Coliseum, or AT&T Park. Who knew places like Billie Jean, Hey Jude!, Fresnel, or Hêlo existed? Not me. He’d shown me his side of the city.
In a crazy way, we’d both crawled out of our boxes and were making our way through new territory.
The drive back to his brownstone passed quickly. We were parked by the time I realized I still had no clue what was going on with me or what I wanted.
As I put my hand on the latch to open the door, he pulled me back toward the console between our bucket seats. Then he leaned in and really kissed me.
“Don’t you get it, Ben? What I’ve been trying to do is wine and dine you. I want us to really get to know each other. I want to erase your first impression of me as a big-city idiot.”
He kissed me again, more gently this time.
I thought I was confused before, when I’d gotten aroused by a couple of simple kisses. Now?
I was rock hard and totally and thoroughly at sea. I didn’t know who I was anymore.
10
INSIDE, I mumbled something about “Thanks for tonight and last night” and stumbled off to my bedroom where, after jacking off, I slept through some strange dreams. I got up even more confused than I’d been the night before.
Nothing had been settled, but I now knew where Mitch was coming from and his intentions. But what was I going to do about it?
Breakfast started off with too much stuff rolling around in my brain.
“Why me? Why not my brother Con?” I blurted out at one point.
Mitch looked over, away from the patio door he’d been staring at. He seemed as up in the air as I felt.
He sighed. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.” He sighed again. “All I know is the day I found the space for my restaurant, I looked up and there you were. And you were—I don’t know—perfect. You were everything I was missing in life, and everything I needed to be totally happy. It was like half of me had been walking around searching for the other half. And there you were. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.”
There was a long pause, and then he whispered, “I felt it, but evidently you didn’t.”
“Oh no, you’re wrong. I felt… feel something. I just… uh… I just didn’t… don’t….” I gave up trying to explain and shrugged.
His gaze drifted away and stopped at the patio doors again. After a couple more sighs, he asked, “We’re still going camping, aren’t we, Ben? We’re at least doing that together, right?”
The question sounded forlorn, like he’d missed a ride out of town and was now stuck in the city. His question was so out of the blue that it took me a minute to readjust.
“Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t we?”
Here I was worrying about one thing—did I really like Mitch even though I didn’t think I was gay?—and he was upset about another.
His lips turned up in a sad little smile.
“You got freaked out last night. I don’t blame you. So I thought you might want to go home and never see me again.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, that sounds melodramatic enough, but you’re a Behr client, and we’re contracted to build you the restaurant of your dreams. So we’re kinda stuck together for the next few months.” I took a breath. Might as well talk about the large mammal in the room. “About you wining and dining me, and me being attracted to you. Yeah, if I’m honest, I am. But, see, you gotta realize that I’ve never kissed a guy before. I never wanted to. I need time to figure out who I am. Maybe other guys embrace their gay without a struggle, but I’m not one of them. Sorry.”
I meant it. I was sorry I couldn’t figure out what was what in the blink of an eye. I needed to talk to Con and Abe. Looking back on my life, I realized I rarely did any
thing big without talking to them. Now it made perfect sense. They both knew how it felt to have your whole idea about yourself change. I didn’t know if this was something they could help me with, but I hoped so.
OUR DRIVE back to Stone Acres rolled by in silence. Neither of us wanted music or talk. We were lost in the depths of our thoughts.
I’d offered to take a bus back, but Mitch said he wanted to check in with Abe about the building. Since Mitch’s project was my brother’s baby, I’d pretty much stayed out of it, what with the rallies and all. Now I was glad that I had no part in the transformation of the steak house into a family restaurant. If Mitch and I didn’t work out, Behr Construction wouldn’t be affected.
After Mitch talked to Abe and walked around the building with him, he drove back to the Bay Area, Glen, and the clubs. I didn’t envy him the coming week. Seemed to me that Raven, the singer who I thought was his friend, would be his only bit of peace and quiet. Maybe listening to her croon would go a long way toward soothing him.
“You wanna talk?” Abe asked when he got back to the office after seeing Mitch off.
“Yeah.”
The nice thing about talking to Abe was that we knew our roles. I slouched down in my chair and put my feet on his desk. We’d written our bro script so long ago that it was comforting when he growled at me to get my damned shoes off his shit. The warmth of brotherly love made me smile.
“So what’s up? Besides your stinky feet?” he asked.
Where to start? I let my head fall back and looked at the ceiling, hoping the right words would drop into my brain.
“How’d you know you were gay?” I asked. All I knew was bluntness, so that’s what I went with.
He shrugged. “I dunno, Ben. There’s a guy, and you can’t not like him. And you just know.”
Yeah, I got that part. I’d gotten his attention, though.
“Why? Who’s yanked your crank, little brother?”
I told him the whole story about Mitch, starting with seeing him in the empty steak house and through the first weekend we went on the rally together. I told him about poker nights and drinking at the saloon together. I ended with our weekend in the city. I added that I’d promised to take him camping this coming weekend.
One of the things I love best about Abe is how patient he is. The guy can listen for hours and hardly blink an eye, no matter how horrible the story is—and this one wasn’t.
After my tale of woe, Abe sighed like he always does. Like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and everyone is waiting for him to make a big decision. He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair.
“Look. Here’s the deal, Ben. Love is love. It has no color, no sexual preference, no nothing. It just is. Labels don’t count with love. If they do, then what you’ve got isn’t love. You can call yourselves apeshit for all love matters.”
He stopped and swatted at my boots. He growled. I settled myself more comfortably, my boots staying on the desk. It was a little dance we played.
“Okay, so I came out, saying I love a man,” he explained. “What I was actually saying to all the assholes in town was we’re tight, we’re together forever, and yeah, meatheads, we’re having sex. The asses didn’t get it. They didn’t get that the sex part doesn’t really have anything to do with the love part. Yeah, they’re nice together, but one of us loses his dick, God forbid, I’ll still love him.”
He drank his coffee until his grimace eased up. I’d instinctively put my hands in my lap, covering my groin. Sometimes Abe was a little too graphic.
“What I’m saying here is don’t worry about the sex part. What you should worry about is the can-I-live-without-this-guy part. The sex stuff’ll get there if you’ve got the love part together.” He looked down and flipped through a couple of papers on his desk. “Oh yeah, also don’t worry about time. Don’t worry if you haven’t known him very long. Time doesn’t have anything to do with love either. Just figure out who you are with him and what you and he need—not want, but need. That’s it.”
He held up his hands and shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t give you a better answer.”
“No. No, you’re wrong. You gave me the perfect answer.” I took my boots off his desk and stretched. “Thanks, man. I kinda get it now. Yeah, thanks.”
Before I left his office, he handed me a set of keys to his cabin on the lake, not that I needed them since I had a copy of the door key and knew where the others were scattered around inside.
“In case you need a quiet place to think, Ben. There’s Wi-Fi now. If you got any more questions, you know where to find me.”
What could be better than a big brother like that?
I rode home eager to see Mitch again.
Abe was right. I didn’t have to kiss him or hug him or anything if I didn’t want to. The most important thing was whether or not I plain old wanted to be with him. And I did.
Did that make me gay? Maybe. Whatever. It did mean I was interested, and we had something between us. Unlike Mitch, who seemed to make his mind up quickly, I was okay now with taking my time to figure out what was going on in my head. I was okay exploring this new me.
AS THE week went by, I planned our camping trip. A few of my friends commented that I seemed happier that week, less touchy. I guess I was since I was back to being good old Ben Behr. Nothing bothers him, and he’ll shoot the shit with you whenever and wherever.
My buddy Stone, bartender at Stonewall Saloon, gave me a long, assessing look when I went in there for a beer and poker after a shitass day.
“Glad to see you’re back with us,” he said, sliding me a brew from the tap.
“It’s good to be back,” I answered.
He nodded.
“I like your boyfriend,” he told me, and I didn’t even panic.
“Yeah.” I took a long draw. “He might be a keeper. We’ll see.”
He nodded again and gave me an approving smile.
“Go have some fun,” he said, dismissing me.
After explaining to the guys that Mitch was in the Bay Area working, I played poker at the endless game that seemed to reside at the back corner table. All was right with my world.
WHEN MITCH showed up at my house Friday evening, he was as nervous as I’ve ever seen him.
“What’s up?” I asked as he shyly entered my front room.
“I still can’t get over that this is where you live. Not a bachelor pad or one of the new condos near the mall. But in a real house. With land.”
I guess being a good old boy didn’t fit with his idea of a single guy who owned a home and a yard.
“Yeah, I told you. This is where Abe, me, and Con grew up. I kinda got it by default after college.” I couldn’t explain it better than that. I had no idea how the house had fallen into my care.
He glanced around quickly and then his eyes hit me again.
“You went to college?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, graduated with a small business degree from Sacramento State University. You didn’t?”
He mimicked my shrug. “Nope. Didn’t even graduate from high school.” He looked away.
What? How’d he get to be a club owner? I had to know more, but we needed to get going if we were going to set up camp before sundown.
I led the way to the kitchen, where I’d stacked everything we’d need for the couple of nights we’d be away.
“So are we taking my truck, or do you think Rita’d be too lonely parked in my garage?” I asked him.
He looked startled, like he hadn’t given it much thought. “Uh, is there a reason we can’t take Rita?”
“Nope.”
“Then if it’s okay….” His voice slid away.
I loaded him up with a crate of supplies and hoisted two sleeping bags on top. We packed Rita, and I held my personal questions. We had all weekend to get to them.
We made it out of town in good time. Our destination: idyllic Lake Rafi.
11
THE DRIVE to the campsite had been quiet, compa
nionably silent. We were both coming off hard weeks at work and had agreed without saying as much that we needed space to decompress and ease into the weekend.
I drove us to a piece of communal land shared by all the cabin owners around the lake, not too far from Abe’s rustic place. The group lot had been cleared for camping and a permanent fire circle built. Everyone around the tiny lake loved this spot because it was far enough away from civilization that you could be loud or quiet, whatever you wanted. And you didn’t have to fight the public to camp there.
By the time we got the truck unloaded and our campsite set up, we were hot and sweaty.
“You know, you could get a newer, lighter tent.” Mitch stood up, stretching his back after we’d pounded in the pegs. He couldn’t really believe a newer one didn’t need to be battened down, did he?
“Yeah, but you probably wouldn’t be able to stand up inside it.”
My old Coleman supposedly slept six, but it’d been a strain to get my brothers and me in it when we were teens. The new, lighter models that I’d looked at never had the height I wanted, especially vital at night when I went outside to take a leak.
I let the topic drop. If Mitch was as enthralled by camping when we got back as he’d started out, I knew he’d be researching the hell out of tents and probably convincing himself he needed a Rita-sized tent as much as he did the car. Until then, he could relax in my sturdy older model.
With the tent up and the campfire started, we had nothing to do but sit, drink beer, and watch the sun go down.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
I’d heard his stomach rumbling while we put up the tent.
“What do you mean? You didn’t catch any fish?”
He gave me a startled, woeful look, and I laughed.
“No. Wait. That’s tomorrow night.” I grinned at him, sure he was about to throw his beer at me. “I brought steaks for tonight. Nothing like carnivore food out in the wilderness, I always say.”