“So,” Jav said. “Not to get too personal on the first phone call…”
“If it gets weird, I’ll just hang up,” Stef said.
“You were married?”
“I was. It’s not one of my finer moments.”
“What happened?”
“We met in grad school. We were young and liberal and had a lot of the same ideas about gender roles and societal roles and free love and open marriage.”
“What could possibly go wrong?”
“Everything.”
“Was she bisexual as well?”
“No, actually. Strictly dickly, as girls like to say.”
“They do?”
“I’ve heard it.”
“Did she know you were bi?”
“When I say we were an open book, we were an open book. So transparent we were invisible. Anyway.” Stef ran a hand through his hair. “Trying to find the quick and dirty version that doesn’t make me look like an asshole.”
“Trying not to make a joke with quick, dirty and asshole.”
Stef laughed. Jesus, even if nothing physical panned out with this guy, Stef wanted to keep him around for conversation.
“We got into the swing scene, which was the beginning of the end.”
“Oh boy.”
“We started hanging more and more exclusively with this one other couple. Straight swapping of spouses. Then me and the guy started hanging out. Just as friends, the way these things always start out. But then one thing led to another. Much to his surprise. And his wife’s.”
“This is making me feel better about one of my disasters.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. But go on.”
“Not much else to tell. We got busted. It was ugly and they disconnected from us. They circled the wagons and managed to save their marriage while ours just…”
“Blew up?”
“You know, if it blew up it would be sort of noble. It really lay down and died without a fight. I look back now and, man, I’m appalled at how easily we gave up and walked away. Like the whole thing had been a game we got bored with.”
“Do you still talk to her? What’s her name?”
“Courtney. We call on birthdays. Text on the anniversary of the divorce because we’re weird like that. Certainly if she had cancer or something, I’d want to know. But she’s not what I’d call a friend. Not anymore.”
“I see.”
“Right on the heels of our separation came my parents’ divorce. I’d say it was the hardest time of my life. In terms of growing up.”
“Huh.”
“How about you?”
“Can you be more specific?”
“When did you know you were bi?”
“That’s hard to answer. It’s tangled up with the reasons why I got thrown out of my home when I was seventeen. And tangled up with whole lot of denial. Until recently, I’ve used cutesy expressions like bi-cautious and bi-curious.”
“So…” Stef cleared his throat. “Not to get too personal on the first call, but have you actually been with a guy?”
“Two, but been with is generous. I haven’t done much past kissing.”
“I see.”
“So I think the appropriate term is bi-clueless.”
“Nice,” Stef said. “Who were the guys?”
“One was… It ended before it started and it ended really sadly. I’ll tell you about it another time. The other guy is more in line with your disaster. He was a friend. I guess he still is a friend but it’s kind of awkward at the moment. Anyway, he and his wife were the closest friends I’d had in years. Alex, especially. If finding Ari was like finding a little brother, finding Alex was like reuniting with a twin or something. So I took the natural next step of falling in love with him.”
“Because, why not?”
“Last thing I expected was for him to feel the same way.”
“Mutual bi-curiosity?”
Jav laughed. “What was I supposed to do? The right thing?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“How’d that bit of growing up feel?”
“I’ve had root canals that were more relaxing. But anyway, that’s my experience with bisexuality. I’ve honestly always known it was part of me. Two times I tried to do something about it and both ended disastrously. So besides being clueless still, I’m kind of…skittish. Love’s really never been a friend of mine.”
“Oh?”
“Then again, I didn’t give it much of a chance. Hence, this is the new me. Or the old me with not so many parts hidden.”
“Have you had any serious relationships?”
“No.”
“None? No girlfriend ever?”
“Well.” Jav chuckled. “I had a lot of girlfriends.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Paid girlfriends.”
Stef blinked. “Say again?”
“I was an escort for twenty-three years.”
A cool, prickling wave passed over Stef’s face and his heart felt slightly too big for his chest. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Twenty-three years.”
“Yeah.”
“But only for women.”
“Only for women.”
“And on your own? Not like with an agency or a…”
“Pimp?”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
“On my own.”
“What did you make? No, don’t answer that. Never mind. Wow.”
An uncomfortable pause.
“You texted the other day that it’s better to be honest from the get-go,” Jav said.
“Definitely. I mean, I appreciate you told me, I’m just…processing.”
“I get it.”
A lightning-fast slideshow whirred past Stef’s closed eyes. A montage of Jav with different women. Out to dinner. In bed. Dressed up. Dressed down. At a party. The opera. Taking women’s clothes off. Picking his clothes up from the floor. Collecting his money.
Sex for money.
No doubt the world of a high-end, highly-paid male escort was a far cry from a heroin addict turning tricks, or a slave under the control of a domineering madam or sadistic pimp. Still, prostituting yourself for two decades, no matter the wages or perks, had to take a psychological toll. Because, in Stef’s experience, voluntarily becoming a sex worker stemmed from a belief you weren’t good enough for anything else.
When they were out for beers, Jav said he left home when he was seventeen and had been estranged from his family since. But really he’d been thrown out. Evicted as a high schooler onto the city streets.
Was that when it started? The devaluing of his own currency?
“Did I lose you?” Jav said.
“No, I’m here. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“You know I work with survivors of sex trafficking, so my knee-jerk reaction is to make you a victim.” And frankly, he thought, I don’t need another person to save. I save people all day long. If you turn out to have a lot of baggage…
“Well, I can think of some other ways I was a victim,” Jav said. “But the work was a choice and I was good at it and I liked it.”
His tone wasn’t defensive or challenging. His self-awareness was refreshingly obvious. Stef rolled on his side, curling more into the phone. “What made you stop?” he asked.
“I was tired,” Jav said slowly. “And lonely. And admitting a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like admitting that as much as I thought love was my enemy, I wanted it to be my friend. I wanted somebody to love.”
Silence ticked by as Stef recalled a couple of male bedfellows who hinted they wanted as much, and how quickly he’d put the kibosh on going to bed again. Fucking guys was one thing. Boyfriends were something else.
Yet here I am, he thought. Interested in his thoughts about love.
“So do you want me to call you again?” Jav said.
“Hell yeah. I have about five thousand questions now.”
“Write them down.”
“I will.”
“All right.”
Silence again. But softer this time. Almost coy.
“I have to get to a thing.” Jav’s voice rose up into a more vertical timbre, and Stef realized all this time, Jav had been lying down. His hand reached, closed around the back of an invisible shirt and yanked Jav back.
Don’t go. Stay. Five more minutes.
“Go do your thing,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He let Jav end the call. For five minutes he lay on the couch, the phone still pressed to his ear, listening to nothing.
“This is gonna be a long three weeks,” he said, sighing.