by Andrew Grey
“Because it wouldn’t be right.” Jonathon turned away. “I think you should go.” He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he almost brushed it off, but instead he hugged his arms around himself.
“Why wouldn’t it be right?” Fabian asked, and Jonathon could feel him, knew exactly where he was like he could see him. His skin seemed to want to reach out to him, and that scared Jonathon. “There isn’t someone else, is there?”
Jonathon didn’t know how to answer that question. How could he tell Fabian that there was, sort of, but that he was dead? Even in his mind it sounded creepy. “No, at least not in the way you mean.”
The hand slipped off his shoulder. “Okay, I’ll go, but will you do something for me? Will you have dinner with me?”
“Why?” Jonathon whispered to the wall. “Why would you want to have dinner with me? I’m old and brokenhearted. What could I have that could interest you?”
“Your heart is not broken, Jonathon,” Fabian breathed softly behind him. “It’s kind and gentle and beautiful, just like the rest of you.” He felt the light touch of what he thought were Fabian’s lips on his neck, so softly he couldn’t really be sure it had happened.
Jonathon whirled around, locking eyes with Fabian. “Do you know how that sounds?” Challenging Fabian to see if he was being handed a line, all Jonathon saw was a sincere softness in those sparkling eyes, and an unexpected innocence. It would have been easy to dismiss Fabian as a player, with his big eyes, movie-star looks, and shining raven hair that almost screamed for Jonathon to run his fingers through it, but he couldn’t. This man surprised him, and he’d like to think that was hard to do, particularly after his youth, but… that was a long time ago.
“I have tickets for the opera on Thursday. We could get dinner before if you want.” God, Jonathon sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. He’d have to make sure he didn’t regret it. They’d have dinner, see the opera, and that was all. Afterwards, he’d come back to his apartment, and Fabian would go home as well. It was that simple.
At least it seemed that way until Fabian smiled and leaned forward, touching his lips ever so softly. “Then I’ll leave you until Thursday.” With a smoldering smile, Fabian turned and walked toward the stairs, descending until just his torso could be seen. He saw Fabian stop and felt the heated gaze as it traveled up his body, and Jonathon felt a small shiver run up his spine. Then Fabian stepped lower, and Jonathon watched as he disappeared and continued watching the stairs where he’d disappeared until he heard the door thud closed.
Gasping for breath, he stood immobile for a long while, wondering what had just happened, and more importantly, how he could have let it happen. He knew it was stupid for him to feel as though having dinner with Fabian was somehow being unfaithful to Greg, but that was it, and he knew it. Walking up the stairs, he found himself looking at the photograph by the bed. He knew exactly what Greg would say and scoffed at himself. “You’d kick my ass if you knew how I was acting, wouldn’t you?” Greg would want him to move on, and he’d definitely want him to be happy. Jonathon didn’t know exactly what would make him happy, but there was one thing he knew: sitting on his balcony for the next two months reading books while the world went by wasn’t going to do it. And neither was pining for a lover, friend, and partner who was gone. It was time to live again.
As Jonathon put the picture back on the nightstand, his phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket, smiling when he saw the caller. “Jeana, how are you? Where are you?”
He heard a carefree laugh. “We’re in Innsbruck, and we’ll be heading to Vienna in a few days so we can see our families before pressing on. How are you? Is the apartment nice? Are you meeting people?” She peppered him with questions, and Jonathon tried to answer them.
“I’m fine. The apartment’s really nice, perfect for me, as a matter of fact, and yes, I’ve met Inge’s family, they’re very nice.” He left out the part about the day’s earlier excitement.
“Have you met anyone else?” she asked, and Jonathon could hear the expectation in her voice.
“Jeana.” He resorted to his teacher voice.
“Okay. Inge and I will be there Thursday afternoon, and we can go to dinner.”
Jonathon swallowed. “Um, I already have plans for Thursday evening.” He knew there was no way she was going to let that slide.
“What kind of plans? Is he cute?”
“Jeana.” Damn it, even the teacher voice was failing him. “I’m going to dinner with Fabian, Inge’s cousin, and then we’re going to the opera.” He held the phone at arm’s length as a squeal shot through the phone. “That’s quite enough, young lady,” he scolded when he was sure she wouldn’t split his eardrums.
“Inge showed me pictures of her cousins—you sure know how to pick them, Dad. He’s hot,” she said, before clarifying, “for a guy.”
Jonathon couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “It’s just dinner and the opera. So don’t go picking out the wedding invitations or designing the floral arrangements just yet.”
“Dad, I’m a lesbian. We didn’t get the flower arrangement or etiquette genes, we got the Harley genes, remember?” She made a “sheesh” sound, and Jonathon doubled over with laughter, since neither of them fit either stereotype. “Well, if Thursday’s out, then we can go to lunch on Friday and see some things. Inge’s told me all about the Schönbrunn Palace. We’re just spending a couple of days, and then we’re off to Venice.”
“Will you be back before classes start?”
“Yeah, we figure we’ll be back in Vienna just before you leave for home.” She sounded so excited, and Jonathon let himself soak up part of what came through the phone. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
They said their good-byes and Jonathon hung up, feeling a little excited about Thursday. Putting the phone next to Greg’s picture, he opened the wardrobe, looking at the clothes he’d brought along.
Plain and boring—that was how he’d describe everything he had. Closing the wardrobe door, he looked around, scooping up his phone and wallet before grabbing his keys—it looked as though it was time to do a little shopping.
JONATHON heard Jeana before he saw her, but it wasn’t long before his daughter’s body caught up with her voice and he heard a knock on his door. Opening it, Jonathon was immediately engulfed in a hug that nearly knocked him off his feet amid squeals that made him wonder if he’d actually be able to hear the opera later that evening. Then she stood back, looking him over. “You look good, Dad.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Jonathon kissed her on the cheek. “So do you. Love must agree with you.” Jonathon stepped back so Jeana could enter, and he closed the door before leading her up the stairs.
“Ooh, this place is really cozy. And even nicer than Inge told me,” Jeana said as she sat in one of the chairs. “So tell me about this date you have tonight.”
“It’s not a date. Fabian and I are going to dinner and the opera. That’s all.”
Jeana’s eyes widened. “So have you decided what you’re wearing, or do I need to take you shopping?”
Jonathon couldn’t help smiling. “I went shopping earlier in the week.”
“I knew it.” Jeana jumped to her feet. “This isn’t a date, but you bought new clothes and look as though you’re about ready to jump out of your skin. You keep telling yourself this isn’t a date and maybe you’ll start to believe it, because I sure as shit don’t.”
“Jeana, language.”
“You’re not going to distract me that easily. I’m not five anymore. Let’s go see these clothes. Is the bedroom up there?” Jonathon nodded his response and Jeana was off like a shot, up the stairs before Jonathon had a chance to stand up. “You coming?” she called down. “Or do I get to find them myself?”
“I’m coming.” Jonathon began climbing the stairs. “You’re just like your father.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing,” she responded, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. “Now let’
s see them.”
Jonathon opened the wardrobe, taking out the pants and shirt, still wrapped in tissue paper, opening them before laying the clothes on the bed. “I wasn’t sure where to go, but I found a really nice shopping area.” He ran his hands over the soft shirt.
Jeana picked up the shirt, holding it in front of him. “I’ll say you did.” She grinned. “This is incredible silk, and the pants”—she picked them up, stroking the fabric—“are perfect for you.” She handed them to him. “Go try them on, I want to see.”
“Jeana, I’m not a child.”
“When it comes to fashion, you are. So go try them on.”
He could never tell her no, especially when she looked at him with that huge grin on her face. “Just turn around.” She did, and Jonathon slipped off his shoes and lowered his pants before stepping into the new ones, the luxurious fabric sliding sensually along his legs. Slipping off his shirt, he pulled on the new silk shirt, buttoning it before tucking the tails into his pants. “So, what do you think?”
Jeana stood back. “Turn around.” She made a little twirly motion with her hands, and Jonathon obediently turned around so she could see the back.
“I didn’t want anything too flashy. I figured we were going to the opera, so I went rather traditional.”
“You look stunning, Dad. And you made a good choice. The dark-gray slacks and white shirt are perfect.”
Jonathon padded to the wardrobe in his stocking feet. “The lady at the shop also helped me pick out a belt and socks.”
“I’ll bet she did,” Jeana said with a grin. “You probably made her sales week. Seriously, Dad, does this mean when we’re back in New York, you’ll let me take you shopping? These are expensive clothes, and they look so good on you.” She fingered the silk of the shirt, adjusting his collar. “You deserve to wear clothes like this. I’m surprised Dad didn’t buy them for you.”
“Your father would have bought me wardrobes full of clothes if I’d let him. But I didn’t, and now I wish I had.” Jonathon sat on the edge of the bed. “Not that I wanted them, but because it would have made him happy.”
“What made Daddy happy was what made you happy. That man loved you more than anything or anyone on earth, including us.” Jonathon hurried to her, hugging Jeana tight as she began tearing up. “I’m not upset or jealous, because he should have. You were his other half, and with the way I feel about Inge, I’m really starting to understand just what you and Daddy had, and I want that too.”
“You deserve it.” Jonathon held her, and to his surprise, he found that his eyes were dry and he was able to smile. “Everyone deserves to find that kind of love once in their life. I’m lucky I had it with your father. I didn’t get to keep him as long as I’d hoped, but I wouldn’t trade a minute for anything in the world.” Jonathon could feel Greg’s love warming him from the inside.
“So you’re going to have fun on your date tonight?” Jeana asked as she wiped her eyes, pulling out of the embrace.
“Yeah, I am.” Jonathon felt his cheeks heat. “I haven’t been out with anyone since Greg, and I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Jeana reassured him. “Just do what you told me when I went on my first date, remember?”
Jonathon smiled at the memory. “Be yourself, and if the boy tries anything”—Jonathon grinned—“go for the jewels,” they finished together, laughing like idiots.
“So what time is your date?”
Jonathon checked his watch. “We’re supposed to meet in an hour.”
“Then you’d better get ready.” Jeana walked toward the stairs. “I’m going to find Inge, but I’ll be back in forty-five minutes to check you out before he gets here.” She started down the stairs, and Jonathon shook his head, stripping off his clothes and laying them on the bed before heading to the bathroom.
After cleaning up and dressing, Jonathon found himself pacing the living area nervously, a million questions racing through his mind. What if Fabian didn’t really like opera and was bored through the whole thing? Were they coming back here afterwards? He’d made sure everything was clean just in case. Would Fabian kiss him again? That was the one question he kind of hoped would be a yes. It had felt nice when Fabian kissed him, and it made him feel desired again. But that led to the next question: what if Fabian wanted more? That one really got his heart pounding, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. He’d been alone for the last two years, and he hadn’t even looked at another man, feeling as though he was being unfaithful to Greg. He was still young, well, relatively young anyway, and the thought of seeing that rich skin again, wondering what it would feel like to touch and be touched, had his body racing.
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know what to do, and Greg was gone, he knew that. And he needed to move on. But he hadn’t been with anyone other than Greg in almost two decades. He’d gotten a good look at himself in the mirror, and in the immortal words of Dolly Parton, “Time marches on, and eventually you find it’s marching across your face.” And in his case, the rest of him as well. You’re worrying about something that probably won’t happen anyway.
A knock sounded from the door, and Jonathon had never been so grateful for the interruption. He let Jeana inside, and she immediately looked him over. “Nice, Dad, very nice,” she said with a smile.
“Thank you.” Jonathon peered outside before closing the door. “I’m so nervous.”
“Don’t be, Dad. It’s dinner and the opera, just like you said. I know I was teasing you earlier, but just be yourself and have a good time.” She reached up and adjusted his collar. “If it’s any consolation, he’s just as nervous as you are.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Oh yeah.” Jeana’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “He’s been running around upstairs and has changed his clothes at least three times.” Jeana began to chuckle. “And all under the eye of his grandmother, who watches him like a hawk. That woman is a real piece of work. Inge’s Aunt Hanna seems like a lot of fun, I just love her. But the grandmother is one old-fashioned woman with old-fashioned notions and bigotries.”
“I was forewarned by Hanna when I moved in.” Jonathon looked toward the main house, and Jeana turned him around, making sure his collar and shirt were perfect all around before pronouncing him presentable.
“I don’t know what Fabian did to piss off his grandmother, but whatever it was, she hasn’t forgiven him. She keeps trying to keep an eye on him, and Hanna keeps giving her things to keep her busy in another part of the house. Add in Hans scowling at his brother because he told him he couldn’t come along and it’s like a sitcom in there.”
Jonathon sat in one of the chairs. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”
Jeana looked horrified. “Not on your life. So feel free to bring Fabian back here and have your way with him.”
“Jeana! Do you know how icky it is to think of your parents having sex?” Jeana nodded with a mock-shiver. “Well, it’s just as icky talking about your sex life with your kids.”
“Okay, I’m going to find Inge so she and I can paint the town red.” She hugged him tightly. “You have a great time, and don’t order anything drippy or messy during dinner.” With those parting words she was gone, and Jonathon grinned, watching her as she walked past the window. Checking his watch, Jonathon hurried upstairs, going to the wardrobe and getting his light jacket before returning to the living room level to wait.
As he did, voices traveled through the open window, and Jonathon wandered out onto the balcony. He saw Fabian and Jeana standing together in the unusually empty courtyard, their voices drifting. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they parted, and Jeana walked toward the main house. Jonathon headed downstairs, walking to the door as Fabian knocked. “Right on time,” Jonathon commented with a wide smile.
“I would have been here earlier, but Jeana caught me on my way over.”
“I can just imagine,” Jonathon replied. “Shall we go?”
“I thought we’d walk, if that’s okay. The restaurant is between here and the opera house. It’s just a few blocks.”
“Lead the way.” Jonathon expected them to leave, but he found himself engulfed in a pair of strong arms and saw Fabian tilt his head just before their lips touched in a kiss that nearly made his knees buckle, not from the heat, but from the caged desire he could feel being held at bay. That those feelings seemed to be for him was heady, and when the kiss deepened slightly, Jonathon let Fabian carry them where he wanted to go.
Footsteps in the courtyard seemed to startle Fabian, and he ended the kiss, stepping away before smiling. Fabian motioned to the door. Jonathon picked up his jacket from the floor, where he’d dropped it during the kiss, and stepped outside, seeing Oma walking their way. Jonathon waved to her innocently, smiling at the old woman as he walked toward the street. She waved back at him but stared at Fabian as they opened the iron gate and stepped onto the nearly deserted sidewalk, the gate clanging closed behind them. “The restaurant is this way. You’ve probably walked past a few times already. It’s not very big, but the food….” He kissed his fingers dramatically. “And it’s owned by a friend of mine.”
They walked side by side, with Fabian’s hand brushing against his every few seconds, the touch seeming illicitly naughty. Approaching the restaurant, Jonathon saw a few tables on the sidewalk surrounded by fencing draped with fairy lights. He hoped they were going to sit there, but Fabian led them inside, speaking to the hostess in German. She left and returned with a man who greeted Fabian warmly. “This is the man you were telling me about.” He extended his hand.
“Jonathon, this is Heinrich, he’s the owner and the best chef in all of Vienna,” Fabian replied, and they shook hands. Then Heinrich led them toward the back and to a secluded table. He and Fabian spoke in German very briefly, and then Heinrich left with a smile. “We were young together.”
