17

Ella

I got off work and went straight for my neighbor. He was the only other person I knew in the building that had plans to buy back his home, and I had to tell him what was happening. Mr. Fienster had no family, no friends, and nowhere to turn to. He deserved a heads-up if something like this was going down. I couldn’t keep this from him knowing he needed more time than any of us to find arrangements.

“Ella! How nice of you to come by. You look upset.”

“Mr. Fienster, I’ve got some news for you,” I said.

“Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk about it?” he asked.

I stepped into his home and took a look around. Some of his furniture was wrapped with this saran-like plastic. His apartment was void of many things someone would use to decorate: there weren’t many pictures, no gifts from family that decorated any useless tables. His apartment smelled of disinfectant and pills. I felt his hand come up between my shoulder blades, edging me towards his kitchen chair.

“Mr. Fienster, I can make us something to drink.”

“You’re my guest, Ella,” he said. “Sit down and let me make you something.”

“Mr. F, I’m here all the time. I’m hardly a guest.”

“When you’re as distraught as you are, you will be treated with the respect a guest should have. Now, what seems to be troubling you? Those eyes are too pretty to be as dark and stormy as they are.”

“You remember those original numbers for all the updating they were going to do to this place?” I asked.

“Ah, yes. The renovations. Did you know that Mr. Dobson was kind enough to offer handicap assistance as one of my renovations? That man really is astounding, I tell you. The media doesn’t paint him in the right light.”

“They actually might,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“The new numbers are going to be higher. Probably double what we were originally quoted,” I said.

“Double, huh? What makes you think that?”

“A conversation I overheard Mr. Dobson having with someone.”

“And where were you with Mr. Dobson?” Mr. Fienster sat down a hot cup of tea he’d made along with some sweet cream. I stared at the steam wafting up from the glass and I felt tears rimming the bags underneath my eyes. I missed him. Even with everything that was going on and the heartless way he’d dismissed me the last time I saw him, I missed him.

My heart ached for him, and it wasn’t until Mr. Fienster sat down beside me with his tea that I was ripped from my trance.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning and fill me in, hm?”

“The first time I met Foster, it was actually at the new club I was singing at.”

“Foster?”

“Sorry, Mr. Dobson,” I said.

“Ah, so his name is Foster. Alright. Continue. You met him at the club and I presume you were taken with him?”

“A bit. He simply held himself with a great deal of confidence.”

“And he’s not too easy on the eyes, either.”

“Mr. F!”

“What?! I was young once. Gay men existed well before this generation started their revolutions and such. So, what happened?” he asked.

“Well, he just assumed I’d simply hop into bed with him, so I left to perform. I didn’t run into him again until he was knocking on my door wanting to talk about the renovations to the apartments,” I said.

“Ah, what a twist. Did he ask you out?”

“He did, and I accepted. We’ve gone out on a couple of occasions. Indulged in some… things with one another,” I said, blushing.

“You can keep those private details to yourself. I’ve never been one to allow kissing and telling in my presence.”

“I assume this phone call took place at some point in time while you were with him?”

“Yeah. I went to his office to meet him and we spent some time together. He took me to his home and I got to lay up against his body all night. Mr. Fienster, it felt so good to be beside him. I’ve always taken pride in being able to protect myself and not need anyone, but I didn’t even realize how much I wanted someone like him until I had him right next to me,” I said.

“Sounds like he treats you well, which is exactly what you deserve. When did this phone call take place? Can you remember what was said?”

“It was just after we’d had dinner and indulged in more… things,” I said, giggling.

“Ah, to experience that giggle again. Love looks good on you, Ella.”

“Love? Yikes, no. Not even close. Infatuation, maybe. But not love,” I said.

“Anyway,” Mr. Fienster smirked, “what happened on the phone?”

“He got up to take a phone call and I heard him talking with someone. A David or Deigo-- I don’t know, he said a lot of names. But, I heard him throwing around prices. Sixty thousand and offering us the option of having lesser quality products installed in order to chip away at the price.”

“Was he angry?”

“What?” I asked.

“His demeanor on the phone? Was he businesslike? Upset? Happy? What did he sound like?”

“I don’t know, really. He… sort of sounded annoyed. Frustrated. Maybe stressed? It’s a big project he’s taking on,” I said.

“So, it could be he doesn’t approve of the figures he was being given.”

“Does that matter?”

“It does when I ask you why you’re so upset,” he said.

“I’m upset because of these prices! Mr. Fienster, I wanted to come warn you. I won’t be able to afford those prices, and neither will you. We’ll need all the time we can get in order to make other arrangements.”

“Besides the fact that I have faith in Mr. Dobson, I want to address why you’re so upset.”

“The prices, Mr. F. The prices,” I said.

“See, I don’t believe you. I think you’re upset because you were living in this fantastical bubble with this handsome man who simply happened upon your doorstep, and now reality is beginning to set in. I think you’re worried because you do care for him. Maybe not love him, but you do care. You’ve opened yourself up to him and now you’re concerned about something. What is it, child?”

Mr. Fienster reached out for my hand, and the moment he curled his aged fingers around mine I broke down. I began to cry into my cup of tea, cooling it with my tears while he squeezed my hand in reassurance. He was right. I felt like I was being ripped between worlds. I felt like my life was a tease. One night, I was in bed with this phenomenal man without a care in the world and the next I was climbing the steps of a rundown apartment complex with a broken elevator and stepping through the doors of a home I probably wouldn’t be able to afford in the coming months.

“What am I going to do?” I asked, sobbing.

“How do you feel about him, Ella?”

“I like him. So much. He’s absolutely wonderful when he’s not trying to fucking take my home from me. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry for harsh language in this home. You should hear me when I slip around on these floors,” he said, grinning.

“You really need to be careful, Mr. F. I’m not always here to check in on you.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Ella. But, your heart is. Would you like some friendly advice from a man who’s been there a few times in his life?” he asked.

“I’ll take anything at this point.”

“Call him. Tell him you want to talk, but make him do it in person. Sit that son of a bitch down and tell him exactly what you think. You only do a detriment to yourself by censoring your own voice. We live in a country where censoring is not something that’s allowed. Use your voice and tell him how you fucking feel, Ella.”

“Wow. Such language,” I said, grinning.

“The only words you’ll ever regret are the ones you don’t say. Call him. Entice him with those legs of yours. Tell him you want to talk, then say what you have to say. Get the answers you need to give yourself closure with whatever it is that’s bothering you, then come back around to me. We’ll figure out a plan of action together once the official numbers get back around to us.”

“I’ll help you find somewhere to stay, alright, Mr. F?”

“I’m counting on it,” he said, winking.

We finished our tea before I gave him a hug and left. I walked into my apartment and breathed in deep, allowing the reality to wash over me without overwhelming me. Mr. F was right. I had a right to say everything I wanted to say to him, and I wasn’t going to hold back. I wasn’t going to allow him to string me along. I wasn’t going to allow the likes of Foster Dobson to have my heart if I was nothing but a fun little game to him.

I knew I could do this. I deserved to do this.

But, before I could pick up the phone and call him, my phone lit up with his name.

Foster was calling me.