Thinking of You

by Rachel Kane

  “Allllll right,” says Wendy, affecting a cowboy drawl. “Let’s go herd them cattle.”

  Before they can leave the break room, though, she catches Charlie’s sleeve.

  “Listen, I was thinking. Do you want to catch a movie tonight?”

  He looks out over the elves who have just finished lunch and are now returning to their posts. “Is everyone going?”

  “No, silly,” she says, giving his arm a swat. “I mean, just us. You and me.”

  So this is it. Somehow, in the few seconds it takes to walk from here to Santa’s Village, he’s got to have The Talk with her.

  “Wendy, I have to be upfront with you, okay?”

  Her face is suddenly guarded. “What’s wrong?”

  “You know I’m gay, right? I mean, I know you know, but…like, it’s not a joke or something, it’s the way I actually am.”

  She rolls her eyes and puffs her cheeks and makes all the signs that he’s being ridiculous. “Damn, you’re stuck on yourself! I was inviting you as a friend, you big ‘mo. Or are you like, so exclusively gay you can’t be friends with women? Are you like, one of those super-misogynist gay guys?”

  “What? No, no, I—”

  She laughs and gives him a shove. “If you don’t want to see a movie with me, just say so, you don’t have to let me down gently or whatever. Jesus, Charlie!”

  She’s still laughing when she goes to her post, but Charlie isn’t sure what just happened.

  Surely I didn’t read that wrong. I’m pretty sure she likes me.

  Unless…well, unless I just missed something. Maybe she’s touchy-feely with everybody?

  He’s still thinking about it an hour later, when there’s a tap on his shoulder. For a split-second he thinks it might be her again. Hey, Charlie, I just wanted to invite you to my naked hot-tub party, it’s totally platonic. He feels the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  But when he turns, he’s even more surprised.

  “Val?”

  The man from last night nods, as though Charlie guessed correctly. “Hello, yes, it’s me. Look, I’m not cutting in line.”

  “I see that. Good for you. I still don’t know where scarves are.”

  That makes Val laugh. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safely. I worried about you biking in the dark.”

  Charlie realizes it’s kind of nice having all these people concerned about him. It has been a while since anyone expressed concern…probably not since he left home a couple years ago.

  Things are busy, just as Mr. Rumson predicted, and he doesn’t have a lot of time for conversation. “Yup, I was fine, just like I told you I would be.”

  Look, over there, where the line turns: Wendy is staring. She’s not paying attention to the parents and the kids, just watching Charlie. He has the weirdest feeling that she’s trying to read their lips, trying to figure out what they’re saying to one another.

  The plan comes to his mind almost instantly, fully formed, as though it had been hiding in plain sight all this time. It’s risky, and it’s based on nothing but instinct, a feeling he has about Val, not even a feeling exactly, more like a hint.

  “Listen, I’m really busy at the moment,” he says, “but do you want to get a coffee after work?”

  Val spends a second too long thinking about this, looking up at the mezzanine, before saying, “I don’t like coffee that I haven’t made myself.”

  Charlie laughs. He doesn’t know how, but he knew Val would say something like that. “I need a favor from you,” he says.

  But that makes Val’s face fall. “A…favor.”

  Suddenly he’s wondering if he said the wrong thing.

  “A small one,” he assures him. “Not like, money or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “No, look, don’t worry about it, it’s a dumb idea.”

  Val nods, and starts to turn away, and really Charlie should welcome that, there are so many parents to greet, so many kids to guide up onto the stage, he doesn’t have time to talk, he really doesn’t, but when Val turns back, he feels a sense of relief.

  “I’m sorry,” says Val. “I’m not good at subtlety and nuance, so I may be missing something. Was going to get coffee the favor?”

  “Meeting me after work is the favor. It doesn’t have to be coffee. I just… I need to get out of something, and I could use your help.”

  His brow scrunches. Val’s got this wonderfully transparent face. He can’t hide anything. He thinks about everything really hard.

  It’s nice to meet someone who isn’t full of secret motivations.

  “I’ll explain it all later, I promise,” Charlie tells him.

  Val nods. He’s the sort of guy who likes explanations. Charlie can tell. Explanations are better than coffee, to Val.

  “I will be here,” Val says, his voice serious like they’ve just set up an important business meeting.

  The first half of the day had sped by, but the second half dragged. Wendy kept shooting him looks, making questioning shapes with her eyebrows and shoulders, but he just smiled and shrugged at her: I can’t tell what you mean, sorry.

  It made him feel a little guilty. Charlie’s not a schemer. Ideally he would just say, Look, no, I can’t go to the movies with you, because even though you act like you’re fine with me being gay, I worry you’re going to hit on me the second the lights go down.

  Charlie wonders if it’s something to do with his size. People have always treated him like a doll, someone they can move around at will. He’s dated some big guys, guys who liked to try to dominate him because they were over six feet. Like he’d naturally assume a submissive position just because they were a head or more taller than him.

  (Like Val, he thinks. Val is pretty tall.)

  It’s not something he worries about, for himself. He’s not troubled at all by his body. He likes it. It gets the job done. When he’s doing chin-ups in the doorway of the bus, or handstand push-ups in the grass outside, or even just racing down the road on his bike, he’s pleased with the way his body moves, with its strength and stamina. He doesn’t feel small.

  But guys and girls both will tell him, I wish I could put you in my pocket!

  Wendy was exactly like that. Treating him like a doll, like something she owned.

  Maybe it was dumb to feel guilty. After all, she was always touching him without asking, just assuming he didn’t mind. If she wouldn’t come out and say what she wanted, maybe it was okay for him to be a little sneaky. Even to lie…if it was a little lie. Not his favorite thing to do at all. But maybe this one was okay.

  “I’ll meet you after we change,” she tells him. “You can pick out the movie if you like.”

  “About that,” he says.

  He doesn’t like the way she stiffens up.

  “You are going, aren’t you?”

  “It’s just, something’s come up.”

  “You’ve been standing there at work all this time, how could anything—oh. Oh, Charlie, seriously, come on. Him? I mean, yes, he’s cute in that weird nerd way, but…he’s strange.”

  “I mean, it’s not—”

  “Did you go home last night? Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him already. Oh god, Charlie, did you sleep with him? Is he like your sugar daddy now?”

  “Whoa, whoa!” he says, halfway between laughter and horror, raising his hands to ward off all her assumptions. “Nobody said anything about all that. We’re just getting coffee. Or something. Not coffee. Whatever the opposite of coffee is.”

  Her arms are crossed. “Fine. I’m telling you though, he’s a freak. He’s going to hurt you, Charlie.”

  “I’m not— He’s not—”

  “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when it happens.”

  He remembers that old saying, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. It sounds a little sexist really, but sure enough, there’s anger simmering in her eyes. He’s disappointed her. And it shou
ld make him happy, because now she’ll leave him alone, he’s getting what he wants, except he didn’t want her to hate him, either, that wasn’t the point at all.

  “Hello,” says the familiar voice behind him. “I found the scarves!”

  “Well, here’s your boyfriend,” she says, scowling at Val.

  Charlie turns just in time to see Val puzzling over that one.

  “I’m afraid there’s been some mistake,” Val says.

  “Don’t listen to Wendy, she’s just making a joke at my expense.”

  She huffs off.

  “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” asks Val.

  “Just the opposite. Can you give me a few minutes to get changed?”

  Out on the street Val had changed his mind and said, “I am willing to try coffee somewhere. I’ve always disliked it when other people make it, as they usually don’t take proper care of the roast and the grind, but then, I always disliked alcohol, until Herman’s discovery.”

  Before Charlie has a chance to make suggestions for a place nearby, a big car pulls up to the sidewalk, not a limo, really, but the sort of car you only rode in if you were important. A man in a black suit gets out and nods at Val; before Charlie knows what’s happening, his backpack and bike are placed carefully in the trunk, and the back door of the car is opened for him. He slides into soft leather seats, muted lighting, and quiet music. When the door closes, every single sound from the outside world ceases.

  “This is…really nice,” he says. “I feel underdressed.”

  “Morris,” says Val to the driver, “find us the best coffee shop in town.”

  Morris glances at the rearview mirror, looking from Val to Charlie. “Coffee?”

  “I feel a little guilty,” says Charlie, “like I might have brought you out under false pretenses.”

  Val looks alarmed. They’ve come to the Cafe Viennoise, a place Charlie has never even heard of, but it’s quiet and very upmarket, with an enormous copper espresso machine with an eagle sitting atop it. Val isn’t looking at Charlie now, he’s looking at the eagle, like maybe this is all a trap.

  “No, no, it’s nothing bad,” Charlie insists. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it probably isn’t that. Wait…what are you thinking?”

  “I suppose a murder or extortion plot, something outlandish like that.”

  “You had that horrified look on your face.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it’s nothing so drastic. So what are the false pretenses?”

  Charlie sighs. “It’s this girl, Wendy, you met her.”

  “Very angry.”

  “So angry. And I’m pretty sure she has a thing for me, and I don’t know how to get out of it, and there you were, so… Well, I guess I used you. And I’m really sorry about that. It was selfish of me.”

  A waiter brings them espressos in tiny cups. Charlie usually doesn’t have the money for coffee; he has seen the millions of big paper cups people carry around the mall, their gallons and gallons of coffee, and when he saw the price of the espresso, he thought he’d get something in a similar size, not this tiny white thimble.

  Far from looking offended, Val is beaming. “Did you feel very awkward about it?”

  “You just don’t even know.”

  Val nods, then lifts the cup, first smelling the aroma of the coffee, then putting the cup to his lips. Just then, his face smooths out. He takes a contemplative sip.

  Charlie’s never seen anybody think about the coffee they were drinking before. Is that strange? Everybody drinks it, but nobody considers it like this. It makes him lift his own cup and give it a tentative taste, to see if he can experience it the way Val does.

  “I don’t normally enjoy coffee other people make,” explains Val. “Especially espresso. People roast the beans too long, the roast is too dark. They think it gives the coffee more flexibility, so you don’t have to be as stringent with the timing of your water. It makes for a good mass-produced product, and I suppose cuts down significantly on labor costs, but you miss so much. Taste it. The lightness of the roast allows a more complex flavor, but you have to get the timing exactly right.”

  It tingles against Charlie’s lips and tongue, in a way he couldn’t describe. It’s not like coffee is new to him, but experiencing it is new. He suddenly pictures the mountains where the beans grew, the clouds overhead, the rain, the rich soil. Like the coffee is communicating with him.

  “That is almost spiritual,” he says.

  Val cocks his head at Charlie, as though looking for a hidden slight. Content that there isn’t one, he nods. “Correct manufacturing processes have a kind of magic to them,” he says. “I’m sorry Wendy is giving you trouble. I don’t have any advice for you. My brother tells me I don’t really understand human relationships. I suppose that’s true.”

  “It’ll be okay,” says Charlie. He finds himself unwilling to set the cup down. The china is so smooth to his fingertips. “She just needs to accept that I’m not interested in her, not like that.”

  “See, people don’t believe you when you say that,” Val says, his eyes suddenly alight. Maybe it was the caffeine. Or maybe he’s just happy to have someone listening to him; Charlie can’t tell. “I think the moment you say you’re not interested in something, everyone assumes you’re lying, that you’re secretly obsessed with it. That’s how my brother is. I tried to explain to him that I wasn’t interested in you as a potential partner—”

  Charlie sputters. “You…I’m sorry, what?”

  Val raises a finger. “Don’t take that personally. I’m not interested in anyone. Those kind of things…it’s all a little beyond me.”

  Of all the things Charlie has prepared himself for, this was not one of them, and he can’t help but laugh. Val’s so damned transparent. Everything he thinks, everything he feels, he’s going to end up telling you, and it’s refreshing compared to how bound up everyone usually is, how everyone’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out. Ask the right question, or they won’t tell you what’s on their mind. Say the right thing, or they’ll suddenly shut down.

  The biggest risk of this whole scheme was that he’d get here, and Val would make some awkward proposition to him, that he’d then have to turn down, and here Val was, completely exploding that worry.

  Because I’d have to turn him down, right?

  I mean…that would be the right thing to do.

  Charlie’s not in the market for relationships, although his reasons are pretty different from Val’s. So naturally, if Val had made a move, he would have had to think of the polite way to turn him down (and then figure out another way to put Wendy off).

  It’s not a matter of looks. Val is actually really handsome in an angular, old-fashioned way, his hair parted to the side, his jaw strong and clean-shaved. He could be in a black and white movie. His suit is well-cut as well, tapering in at the waist, but broad around the shoulders. Charlie gets the sense that someone else bought the suit for him; maybe his brother. Val probably doesn’t pay a lot of attention to clothes, unless someone makes him, but once he has them on, they make him look like a formidable businessman, even just sitting here getting coffee.

  But now that Val has put himself out of reach, it’s just human nature that Charlie is suddenly curious.

  “So you’re not seeing anyone,” he says. Tentative. A baited hook.

  “No, no. People used to say I was married to the company. It’s not a phrase I enjoyed hearing.”

  “Do you ever? See anyone, I mean? Maybe that’s too personal a question, I’m sorry.”

  Val looks away, and at first Charlie thinks he’s offended him, but then he realizes Val is thinking. There’s a look on his face when he’s putting together an answer; he can picture Val looking like this in a board room, just before he explains a new strategy. There’s a curious power to the gesture, putting you in your place, making you wait until he’s ready to speak. Val might think he doesn’t know anything about relationships, but Charlie thinks he knows more tha
n he realizes.

  “I lacked many of the social advantages growing up,” Val says finally. “We had the financial advantages, certainly. Early on, I took an interest in my father’s work. It was much more gripping and vital than the things I was learning at school. When time came for college, I had plans to go, but asked my father if I could spend a year working for the company instead, learning it, so that I’d have a good grounding in business before taking classes. One year turned into two, then four…and then my father died.”

  “Oh no,” says Charlie. “Val, I’m sorry.”

  “People said that the sensible thing was to go to college. By this time, my brother was old enough to go as well. People said that others should run the company for us, in our names. It didn’t make sense. Who knew the company better than me? Even then, though, I realized I didn’t have all the people skills I needed. I assumed I could learn them later. I brought my brother on board, made him cancel his plans for school, so that he could be the public face of the company, while I worked behind the scenes. And then… Well, here we are.”

  Charlie’s thumbs are treating the espresso cup like a worry stone, making little circles in its smooth side. “There’s a lot of room between then and now,” he says.

  Val lifts his left shoulder, a half-shrug conceding the point. “Theo would say I hid in work, so I wouldn’t have to face people. But people are difficult to understand. I watch Theo with his boyfriend, and I don’t get it. They have a secret language, not just words, but glances, expressions. They always know what the other means. It seems like a tremendous amount of work. And how do you know if you’ve formed a relationship with the right person? What are the criteria? What is the exit strategy, if things go wrong?”

  “I don’t think people put that much thought into it,” Charlie says. “They go with their feelings.”

  “Then you get situations like with your Wendy. Is she thinking, or is she feeling, when she pursues you?”

  A laugh. “I don’t know what she’s doing.”

  “Does it happen often?” Val asks. “People pursuing you, when you’re not interested?”