Chapter 2

Logan

 

First the verdict, then Andrew Patterson, and now Matt… what is going on today? Is there a full moon tonight… or is Venus in retrograde?

Not that I have the slightest fucking idea what that means, but I’ve heard people ask it when they are bewildered, and it sounds as good an explanation as any.

Right now, though, I need to put all of this out of my mind, as I have other things to think about. I need to get back to the office to do research for my next case, before going home and getting ready to meet Matt.

I decide at the last minute to hail a cab, because the thought of getting on the subway in this nasty, late Indian summer heat doesn’t sound like the most appealing thing to do. I’m already sweating profusely underneath my suit and tie.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in my office trying to be productive, but find I’m not able to concentrate on much. My mind is too busy going over the trial and what I could have done differently. Was I too hard on the defendant… or too soft? Did I forget something in my closing argument?

Sometimes I think I’m way too passionate about putting these crooks in jail.

At other times, it all feels like a big joke. Is there any real justice in a rigged system that favors the rich? My mother always thought I was way too idealistic for my own good and needed to face the true realities of life. But someone has to fight the good fight.

I just need to keep my spirits up. At least if I had a personal life… as in relationship… then perhaps I’d have something else to focus on, other than my work.

Sometimes I envy Matt and his five year relationship with his boyfriend Gage. When Gage travels for his job, I like it, because I get the benefit of spending more time with my best friend. But when Gage is back in town, at least Matt has someone to go home to.

I decide to leave work early so I can go home to eat and shower before meeting Matt. On the way home, I get a call from my mom.

“Hi Darling,” she cheerfully says, in her usual sing-songy tone of voice. “Paul and I are coming to the city next weekend and we would like to see you.”

My mom divorced my dad when I was seventeen and she’s now living with this guy Paul, who’s much younger than her, possibly by twenty years. I personally think Paul is a deadbeat, but I suppose at her age, she’s just happy to have a companion.

“What are you coming here for, Mom?” I ask.

It’s unusual for her to visit Manhattan. I’m usually the one who has to schlep to Long Island in bumper to bumper traffic to visit her on weekends or holidays.

“It’s our anniversary. We’d like to celebrate by meeting you for an early dinner and then see a show. We have tickets to Hamilton!” She says excitedly. 

Then she goes back to her normal melodic voice. “Isn’t it nice of Paul to think of that?”

And finally, she has a sudden and more serious shift in tone when she states, “It’s something your father never did for me.”

Yes, unlike my father, Paul may have thought of it, and he may actually be taking her, but guess who’s paying for it?

Not that it’s any of my business, nor that it even makes that much of a difference. Money-wise, my mom is loaded from divorcing my father and she seems like she’s happy with this Paul guy.

So, who am I to judge her? Older men keep younger girls all the time, yet when it’s the reverse, people get all holier-than-thou and sanctimonious about it. Still, sometimes the whole thing annoys me just a bit.

“Yeah Mom, sounds good,” I tell her. “Let me know if your plans change and you can’t make it.”

“Okay, honey, I love you.”

We hang up.

Having come from a divorced family, I’ve been somewhat leery of relationships. I’m not always the best judge when it comes to picking guys.

My two previous boyfriends were stuck in a perpetual state of prolonged adolescence. Neither had any tangible goals, but drifted from job to job. Yet, at the same time, they were very materialistic and constantly talked about buying useless shit.

I’d like to find someone who’s already achieved success, yet doesn’t let money be their sole purpose of existence. They should have a purpose in life and feel passionate about what they do.

There goes my idealistic self again… does my dream man even fucking exist?

Just then my text message alert goes off, jarring me out of my thoughts. It’s Matt and he tells me he’s getting to the bar early, so I tell him I’ll be there within the hour. But I still have to shower and change, so I do that quickly.

 Finally, I arrive at Therapy, which is in the trendy Hell’s Kitchen area. Tonight, they’re having a DJ and a special on Vodka drinks, although it’s probably cheap booze, so I’ll pass. I’d rather pay more and not risk throwing up and having a hangover tomorrow morning.

It’s relatively crowded, considering how early it is. I don’t immediately see Matt when I walk in, so I go up to the bar and order a Stoli Sunset, one of my favorite drinks due to its delicious mix of cranberry, grapefruit and lemon vodka.

With drink in hand, I wander further into the bar and notice Matt sitting on a stool at a large table by himself. He looks deep in thought and doesn’t notice me at first, but as I approach him, he looks up. It looks as though he’s been crying.

“Hey cookie,” Matt says.

He’s called me that since high school. I don’t exactly know why or how he made it up, but I’ve become so used to it, I don’t question it.

I put my drink on the table and stand still for a moment, studying Matt’s face. It’s obvious that something terrible has happened and I’m almost afraid to find out. I walk around the table and lay my arm on his neck.

“What’s wrong, baby?” That’s when I see a tear fall from his eye. He doesn’t speak up immediately though, so I gently ask again. “What’s happened?”

Finally, he goes from staring out into oblivion to looking me in the eye. “It’s Gage,” he starts out. “I have to break up with him.”

Instead of asking again what happened, I pull up a stool and sit close to him, then begin to rub his back. I can tell he doesn’t need to be pestered with a billion questions right now so I try to just lend him silent support.

After a minute or so passes, he clears his throat and begins to explain. “Before he left for San Jose yesterday on business, I was on the computer paying some bills and I noticed that an unfamiliar email account was open in another window. My interest was piqued, and I couldn’t help but be curious as to what this account was doing there.

I realized quickly that it was set up by Gage, and since he was in the shower, I started scrolling through the emails and was struck by what was written in some of the subject lines. I couldn’t help but open one of them up. As I began reading it, I realized the letter was from a guy named Ben, written to Gage.”

He raises his voice louder. “They were love letters!”

Now more resigned, Matt leans his head against my shoulder and I stroke his blond curls. I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but I sit there in silence waiting for him to continue.

“And that’s not even the worst of it. There were literally dozens and dozens of these letters, dating as far back as 2012.”

Now I can’t hold back any longer.

“2012?” I say in disbelief. “That was before you started dating him!”

Matt nods his head. “Yep!” Then he continues. “These letters go all the way up to last week!”

I kiss Matt on his head and try to comfort him. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry,” I say, and then I give him a hug. Now Matt is full on crying.

I stand beside him, completely dumbfounded and in shock. It was only hours earlier that I was envying his and Gage’s relationship and wishing I had what they had.

Matt continues. “You want to hear what happened next? I confronted him about it after he got out of the shower. He began crying and confessing to me that he never stopped seeing this guy. All throughout our relationship!”

Matt looks at me in disbelief. “As if all those emails didn’t already tell me that, I had to hear it from the horse’s mouth!”

Just then, a tall, bare-chested waiter in skimpy shorts comes by our table and asks if we’d like more drinks. Matt says yes, as do I. It’s going to be one of those nights.

I move my chair and sit down across from Matt and reach over to take his hands in mine. I ask in the most compassionate way possible, “What are you going to do?”

Matt puts his head down for a moment, then lifts it back up.

“I want to move out. I see no other option. Before Gage left, he begged my forgiveness. But how can I ever trust him again?”

He shakes his head and tears up again. “Isn’t trust supposed to be the foundation of a good relationship?”

I nod and begin thinking about asking Matt if he wants to move in with me. My loft is big enough, even though there isn’t a separate bedroom. But there is enough space to separate an area somehow and put another bed in the new area. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to ask him, but I decide to wait before bringing it up.

Instead, I want to feel him out a little more and ask, “Are you still in love with Gage?”

But Matt won’t answer right away. The drinks have arrived, and he gulps down about half the glass of his cocktail and wipes his mouth.

“I don’t even know anymore,” he finally says. “I thought I was. How am I supposed to continue a relationship with someone if at its very core, it was built on a lie?”

I tread lightly when I ask him next, “Do you know who this guy is… what was his name… Ben?”

I hope I’m being delicate and not broaching on too sensitive a topic. Matt is the sort though that would let me know if he didn’t want to answer something like that.

He nods. “They used to date in San Francisco, before Gage moved here.”

Ouch. It’s bad enough he’s seeing someone else, but an ex to boot?

“Gage goes to San Jose a lot on business and apparently they see each other every time he goes. Their relationship never really ended.”

Suddenly, my problems about work and losing the trial today seem trivial in comparison. I just don’t understand how someone can do that to another person. I liked Gage enough and thought he was a decent guy, but I guess you never really know what another person is capable of, until you find out.

I think it’s time that I pop the question about his immediate plans as far as a living situation. “Do you need a place to stay, honey? I’m not trying to persuade you what to do; it’s your decision. Just know that I’d be more than happy for you to move into my place until you figure out what you’re doing.”

Matt gulps down the last half of his drink and begins looking around the bar, while tapping his fingers on the wooden table. “Thank you, cookie. I’ll think about it. I need some time to digest all of this. I think I’m still in shock.”

He turns his attention to the next table over and is eyeing a cute guy who appears to be flirting back at us.

Then he turns to me sporting a subtle, mischievous grin. “Fuck it, I’m single now right? Let’s order another drink.”

“Fuck yeah,” I agree.

After the day I’ve had… or I should say, we’ve had, I can’t think of a better idea.