Chapter Fourteen
When Tim pulled up to Eric’s house on Tuesday, another car waited in the driveway. Parking next to the old Honda Civic, he wondered if someone would be joining them for dinner. He was halfway up the front walk when a middle-aged woman with brown curly hair and a plump frame left the house. She appeared distracted as she dug in her purse for keys, a manila folder stuffed with papers pinned beneath one arm.
“Hi,” Tim said, mostly so she wouldn’t run into him.
“Oh! Hello!” She looked him over once, her face flushing slightly before she continued on her way.
Tim looked back while waiting for Eric to answer the door, nodding at her as she pulled out of the driveway.
“I thought she would never leave!” Eric said. “Come in, come in. I’m running late because she never stops chatting.”
“Friend or family?” Tim asked.
“Neither.”
Eric led Tim to a grand kitchen. Pots and pans hung everywhere like decorations, all gleaming as if they were polished every morning. Tim noted a pair of ovens, an electric grill, and a refrigerator so tall and wide that a small family could live inside.
Leaning against the island in the room’s center, Tim whistled in appreciation. “You like to entertain?”
“Ask me that again next week. I’ll be right back. I have to run upstairs and get changed. Help yourself to a drink, if you’d like.”
Tim checked the refrigerator, mostly just to waste time. Every shelf was crammed with food. How many people lived here? Eric was about Ben’s size, so it was hard to imagine him packing away all these munchies. Closing the refrigerator, he strolled around the room, running his hands along the marble countertop. When Eric came back downstairs, he wore a maroon dress shirt and gray slacks the same color as his hair. A fresh puff of cologne followed in his wake. Tim was wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he had thrown on in the morning.
“Are we going somewhere fancy?” he asked self-consciously.
“Yes,” Eric said, “but don’t worry. The restaurant is so expensive that it’s actually comfortable.” He laughed at his own joke before adding, “Would you mind driving?”
“No problem.”
They made small talk on the way to the restaurant, Eric just as curious about Tim as he had been the night before. Between asking about his car, what classes he was taking, and anything else that came to mind, Eric gave directions, leading them to a corner of downtown Austin that looked run-down. They pulled in behind a building where a small parking lot held expensive cars. Tim never would have guessed a restaurant was here. Aside from stenciling on a tinted glass door, it had no outside sign.
“What is this?” Tim asked.
“A place where a master works his magic.”
The door swung open for them as they neared the entrance. A stiffly dressed maître d’ invited them inside, his tidy little mustache wiggling. “Mr. Conroy, Mr. Wyman, please, right this way.” The only thing missing was the French accent.
The inside of the restaurant wasn’t at all what Tim expected. Eric was right about the comfort. Instead of starched white tablecloths and confusing cutlery, rustic tables were surrounded by plush chairs. Only six tables were visible in the low lighting, each separated by plants or dressing screens to provide privacy.
“How did he know my name?” Tim asked as soon as the maître d’ seated them and glided away.
“He asked when I made the reservation.”
“How did you know?”
“Your last name? I found it on the fraternity’s website.”
Tim stared at him.
“Are you surprised an old man can use a computer,” Eric asked, “or are you disturbed that I stalked you?”
“A little of both,” Tim said before laughing.
“Champagne?” The maître d’ had reappeared, popping open a bottle with flair, the cork blasting away into the shadowy restaurant. People were lucky not to lose an eye here! Tim would have to remember to duck if anyone else was offered champagne. Golden bubbles filled their glasses before the maître d’ bustled away. Apparently he would be their waiter as well. Hell, he could even be the chef, as small as this place was.
“Here’s to new friendships,” Eric said, raising a glass.
Tim toasted him, feeling a little overwhelmed. He wondered if that was the intention. As nice as Eric seemed, gay was gay, and Tim hadn’t met a gay guy yet who didn’t find him attractive. “So, uh, where are the menus?”
“There aren’t any.” Eric took another swig, gave a satisfied smack, and set down his glass. “Whatever Jeffery cooks is what we get. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?”
“No.”
“That’s the one exception he’ll make. Trust me, we’re in good hands.” Eric, elbows on the table, rested his chin on his hands. “So, how are you and Travis doing?”
“Oh no you don’t!” Tim said. “This dinner was supposed to make up for me blabbering about my problems. It’s my turn to ask you questions.”
“Oh, I’m boring.”
“I doubt that!”
“Very well.” Eric smiled. “I can’t promise you honest answers, but give it your best shot.”
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
“But your house is huge!”
“It didn’t feel that way five years ago.”
“So there was someone else?”
Eric coughed, taking another sip of champagne to soothe his throat. “Excuse me. Yes, there was someone else. Gabriel, the love of my life. I built that home for the both of us. He left all the details to me, happy with how I threw myself into it. I had just decided to retire, and I think he worried I would become a different person, but I attacked the project with just as much gusto as I did our work.”
“You guys worked together?”
“Mm-hm. Our relationship was very much career-based. We were both stockbrokers. Gabriel had the connections and clients, and I had the foresight to invest in little-known technology companies that have now become household names.”
“Microsoft?” Tim guessed.
“Among others. We got rich and made our clients even richer. I was happy to become independently wealthy, but Gabriel—” Eric shrugged. “We lived in that house together for six years, and it was one of the happiest times of my life. That’s all that matters.”
The first course appeared—an appetizer that looked more like modern art than food. Delicately arranged cubes were decorated with sprigs and savory syrups. Tim couldn’t tell exactly what they’d been served, but as soon as the first bite was in his mouth, the food was so delicious he decided he didn’t care if he was eating poodle.
“So what happened?” Tim asked.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Eric teased. “My life is twice as long as yours.” He peered at Tim. “Oh god, maybe even three times!”
Tim grinned. “With you and Gabriel. Did he run off with the pool boy?”
“The pool boy, yes.”
“Dude! Sorry! I was trying to be funny.”
“So was I.” Eric winked. “It wasn’t the pool boy, but it was a much younger man. Gabriel didn’t take to retirement. He kept working as a broker, only from home, which isn’t the same as being in the thick of it on Wall Street. Myself, I didn’t see the point. Once you’re rich, what’s the sense in getting richer? But what I failed to understand was Gabriel’s need for a challenge. Eventually he met someone who became that challenge.”
“That sucks.”
Eric shrugged but then nodded. “At least the young man was stunningly handsome. Somehow that made it almost forgivable. Why, he could have given you a run for your money.”
“Impossible!” Tim said mockingly. This made Eric laugh, which was good, but he felt bad for the guy. “Sounds really shitty. How long were you together?”
“Seventeen years. It was a good run. And yes, for the first few years apart, it was shitty, but I’ve made my peace. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eric gave a brave smile and tackled his food.
Tim joined him, considering the similarities of their stories. More than once, Tim had given himself the same pep talks—saying it was for the best that he had split up with Ben, because Tim couldn’t give him what he needed. Ben had surely found his Prince Charming out there, someone who could be as bold and open and as wonderful as Ben was. Someone better.
Just the thought made his stomach tight. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“What?”
“That you’re happy with how things turned out.”
“I do,” Eric said firmly. Then his cheeks grew red. “Most of the time. Maybe I’m kidding myself. I mean, I still carry his photo around with me.”
“Really? Let me see!”
Eric shook his head ruefully and pulled out his wallet. In the plastic envelop that people usually stuffed with pictures of their kids was a black and white photo folded at the bottom. Eric handed it to Tim, and he discovered it was from one of those novelty photo booths. Unfolding the strip of photos, he saw the same two faces repeating. Eric’s hair was darker, his face tighter. Next to him was a handsome black man with a pencil-thin mustache. Their expressions changed slightly from each photo, all of them happy, except in one where Eric appeared slightly surprised. Tim wondered if that’s the way he looked when finding out about Gabriel’s new lover.
“You guys made a cute couple,” he said, handing back the photos.
“Thank you.” Eric carefully folded the strip and returned it to his wallet. “Even though the relationship ended on a sour note, I don’t regret a thing. Do you?”
“You mean Ben? Absolutely not. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
Their empty appetizer plates were replaced by an entrée. Tim was happy to see this wasn’t so dainty. A drumstick sat on one side of the plate, poultry of some sort but too big to be chicken. Something like mashed potatoes—which Eric soon identified as a parsnip and truffle purée—accompanied by a side salad with so many ingredients that Tim didn’t think any of them were repeated twice.
“So,” Eric said between bites, “do you carry a photo of Ben in your wallet?”
Tim snorted. “Are you kidding? I was way too careful to have something like that. I don’t have a single photo of him anywhere.” He frowned at his plate. “I kind of regret that. His face gets a little fuzzier in my mind every year that goes by. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget it completely.”
“You won’t,” Eric said. “You may not remember every detail, but most of it stays with you. Have you ever tried looking him up?”
“No.” Tim shook his head. “What if I found him? Nothing has changed, at least not for me, so I wouldn’t have anything to offer.”
“Nothing’s stopping you from coming out,” Eric said carefully. “You aren’t living with your parents anymore.”
Oh, yes. Eric had quite a few things in common with Ben. Tim sunk his teeth into the drumstick. Goose, he guessed as his mouth came alive with heavenly seasonings. How could he ever return to eating normal food again? “It’s not my parents I worry about. At least not as much as I used to.”
“The fraternity?”
“Yeah.”
Eric cocked his head. “Which you joined because—”
“Because my dad offered me five hundred bucks if I got in.”
Eric smiled. “I’ll give you a thousand if you leave.”
Tim laughed. “I don’t want your money. How is the topic back on me again? Tell me about you. When did you come out?”
“Ages ago. And just yesterday to you. Coming out is something you never stop doing. You start by telling your friends and family. Then you tell new acquaintances or coworkers who invite you out for a drink. Even the telemarketers who call and ask if my wife is home. You don’t have to tell everyone you meet, of course, but coming out is something that accompanies your entire life.” Eric carefully cut the meat off the bone with his fork and knife. “I’ve known I was gay since I was fifteen. I told my best friend that same year, and have been coming out ever since. When did you first know?”
“That I was gay?” Tim’s laugh was hollow. “The very moment I broke up with Ben.”
Eric raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know all those times you slept together?”
“Well, I wondered, but Ben was always going on about how straight guys experiment and stay straight, but what really makes a person gay is who they love.” Tim took a swig of champagne. “When we broke up, it hurt bad enough that I knew it had to be love.”
Silence followed this statement, and Tim knew the question Eric wasn’t asking. Once he realized it was love, why didn’t he go back? Tim was glad for the silence because he wasn’t proud of the answer.
“I think Ben has it half-right,” Eric said eventually. “Who we love is definitely a strong indicator of our preference, but by no means a definitive answer. Have you heard of the Kinsey scale?”
Tim shook his head.
“Basically you choose a number from zero to six. Zero means you’re straight. Six means you’re gay. All the numbers in between are the varying degrees. A number one might be a straight guy who experimented as a horny teenager or got a little too drunk one night. Likewise, a five would be someone who mostly identifies as gay, but might have given girls a try while figuring that out. A three, right down the middle, is what we call bisexual.”
Tim mulled that over, wishing he could have more champagne, but his head was already a little light and he still had to drive them home. “I would be a four, I guess. Honestly, there are probably more girls who catch my eye than guys, but I never connect with them emotionally.”
“Fair enough.” Eric moved his plate aside, the food half-eaten. “I suppose I would be a five. I had a girlfriend once, and I enjoyed sex with her. But once I discovered guys, I never looked back.”
“Then why don’t we call ourselves bisexual?” Tim asked, eyeing Eric’s leftovers. When Eric gestured he should help himself, Tim nearly tackled the food.
“I suppose it’s easier to simply say you’re gay, especially if you plan on mostly being with guys. Otherwise there’s a lot of explaining to do, or the misconception that bisexuals need to be with both genders to be satisfied. Personally I don’t believe anyone is completely gay or straight. There’s always an exception to the rule, be it the right person or the right situation. In the future, I doubt we’ll use any of these terms at all.”
“Nhr-mrr?” Tim asked with a mouth full of goose.
“Never. You’ll simply ask out the person you’re interested in, and they’ll say yes or no. Preferring guys won’t be any more controversial than favoring blonde hair or dark skin. We already use the right term when we say sexual preference, but for now people treat it like an identity.” Eric sipped at his water. “Of course, that’s only if gay people still exist by then.”
“Huh?”
Eric chuckled, as if embarrassed. “It’s all this genetic research. What if they find a gene that controls sexual orientation? If parents are allowed to genetically design their children—which seems inevitable—then of course they’ll want children who can give them grandchildren.”
“How is that inevitable? Won’t people say it’s—I don’t know—immoral?”
“Ah, but what a slippery slope! Imagine a pre-birth health scan that checks for diseases and corrects potential defects. If infertility is among them, couldn’t a preference for the same sex be grouped in with that? Then—boop!—the doctor flips a switch and the kid comes out straight as an arrow.”
Tim blinked. “You’re freaking me out.”
Eric laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I think we’ll be okay as long as technology doesn’t develop faster than human rights.”
“And you made all your money from technology,” Tim said with exaggerated disapproval. “You’re to blame for the future being heterosexual.”
“My money is also about to buy a dessert that will blow your mind. How does that sound?”
Mother-fucking glorious!
Tim managed to contain this reaction and civilly nod his approval. The sugar-laced dessert and a coffee made Tim sober enough to drive Eric home. Dropping him off seemed too cold, especially since dinner had been so expensive. Eric did his best to hide the bill, but Tim saw the triple digits. So he walked Eric to his door, which made it feel like a date.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Tim said.
Eric turned and smiled. “Believe me, the pleasure was all mine. There’s nothing more valuable in life than companionship.”
Hokey but true, and something Tim had learned the hard way. “I was scared,” he blurted out. “That’s why I never went back to Ben. I was too afraid of what everyone would think. And that he wouldn’t want me anymore.”
Eric considered him, house keys in hand. “The more we love, the more we fear. Rejection, or what others might think, these are just the beginning. In a perfectly happy relationship, we fear losing the other person to disease or chance.”
“Or letting the other person down. Or them realizing that you aren’t good enough.” Tim laughed. “Fear and I are old friends. I could stand here all night listing off its different guises. Ben only made it through my barriers because of those first few weeks we spent together. I wasn’t in school and my parents were away, so I felt safe. If only I could do the same for Travis.”
“Why don’t you take him on a trip?”
Tim paused, surprised by the simplicity of the idea. “Maybe I should on the next break. I don’t have any money, though.”
“I can—”
“No!” Tim said, not wanting Eric to think he liked him for that. No doubt countless people had hit him up for cash over the years. Tim was determined not to be one of them, although that’s exactly what he’d done the first time they met. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll get a job or something. Really.”
Eric’s response was cut off by a coughing fit. He waved at Tim when asked if he was okay, like he should simply leave. “Just an old smoker’s cough,” Eric insisted. “I need to get inside and have a drink.”
“Okay. Thanks again for dinner!”
Tim walked back to his car, thinking about Eric’s idea. A trip somewhere with Travis could be just the thing. A place for the two of them, far away from it all, where Tim could show Travis the potential they had together.