by John Inman
My mother’s eyes were so accusing, I had to look away. I stared through her kitchen window instead. “How did you—”
“You like living with Beth, Malcolm. You’re going through a rough patch right now because you’re confused about a certain someone. But it will get better, dear. You just have to trust me. Besides, only a man would be dumb enough to run from love.”
“Who said anything about love?”
She tapped the crystal ball with a fingernail. “This did.”
“If you really believe that, then you’re crazier than I thought you were.”
She gave me an indulgent smile. “You know I’m right, Malcolm. I see more in you than you can see in yourself. And I could have done it without the crystal ball too. I could have done it just by reading those wounded eyes of yours.”
“My eyes aren’t wounded,” I tried to say, but the words sort of caught in my throat, which made my mother smile all the wider.
She gave me a pout and patted my hand.
“Great,” I said. “Now I’ll get what you’ve got. You’ve infected me with your cooties.”
Her eyes were kind. “No, I haven’t.”
“I’ll die miserable and alone, hacking up snot balls.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’ll be lying on my deathbed never knowing what it’s like to fall in love.”
At that, my mother’s smile returned. This time it was a big fat one that spread from ear to ear. She reached across the table and patted my hand again, spreading a few more germs.
“It’s too late for that, I think. You’re already in love. You’re just too shell-shocked to know it.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Nobody knows love like I do.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So is love. It always is. Love is the most impossible thing ever.”
“I’d better go,” I said.
She nodded. “Perhaps you should. Good luck with your audition.”
“How did you—”
She tapped the ball.
I sighed.
“Other people have normal mothers,” I said, trying not to return her smile with one of my own.
“I know,” she said. “Poor deprived bastards.”
On my way out the door, she hooked a finger in the waistband of my running shorts and dragged me to a halt.
“One other thing, my love,” she said.
“Good lord, what now?”
“You’re in for a surprise. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“What sort of surprise? What sort of stupid?”
She giggled and closed the door in my face. God, my mother is strange.
CORY WAS such a nervous wreck over the audition scheduled for the following day, he pleaded with his boss at the grocery store for the night off. Beth was working the night shift at Jack in the Box, manning the takeout window, which she hated with the same fervor as she hated the KKK, organized religion, and brussels sprouts.
To my amazement, as the day wound to an end, Cory sought me out, although he tried not to show it overtly. I was sitting on the balcony, enjoying the sunset and reading the newspaper because I thought I was making him nervous, continually bumping into him in the apartment. Which I guess explains why I was astounded by the first words out of his mouth in days that were directed at me.
Rosemary was softly snoring at my feet. I didn’t know where the snake was and didn’t care.
“Oh, there you are,” he said.
“Here I am,” I answered back, glancing up from my paper. Barely.
He looked stricken by my cavalier response. He moved to the railing in front of me and leaned his butt against it, facing me, crossing his arms over his chest while looking worriedly down at his feet.
I kept my eyes on my paper, as if I were really enthralled with what I was reading when actually I could have been staring at anything from the stock quotes to “Dear Abby” and I wouldn’t have known it. Every ounce of my attention was centered on Cory, even if I was too frightened to look up into his face.
He cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice was low and rumbly. He sounded sad. “I know you’re avoiding me, Malcolm. But I don’t know what I did to make you mad.”
That made me realize it might just be possible I was acting like a dick. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. But he had been ignoring me lately, hadn’t he? I hadn’t imagined it, had I? I finally gave Cory the courtesy of tearing myself away from the paper and gazing into his face.
“I thought you were avoiding me,” I said. “Plus I’ve been a little stressed out. Dressing like a gorilla every day is sucking the fun out of me. I’m dehydrated. I have a rash on the back of my neck. I crave bananas all the time, and I think I’ve grown allergic to fake hair.”
He smiled at me for the first time in days. I felt the back of my neck heat up at the sight of his dimples making a return engagement. I had missed them.
“Wearing a gorilla suit every day would suck the fun out of anybody,” he said around a grin.
“How is your job at the grocery store?”
“It’s a lot like working in a gorilla suit. A real fun-sucker.”
I chuckled and let my paper fall to the floor at the side of my chair, half covering the dog, who proceeded to flip over on her back and playfully tear the paper to shreds. Like I cared.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” my mother had said. I thrashed around in my head for something mundane to say. Something that wouldn’t make me sound like a twit. Something that wasn’t stupid. I had a spark of an idea and snatched it desperately out of thin air. “Are you excited about the audition tomorrow?”
His dimples disappeared in the blink of an eye. “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.
I leaned back in my chair and stared up at him standing there in front of me in the orange glow of a setting California sun. I wondered if he knew what a knockout he was with his narrow hips and broad shoulders and deep chest. But even I had to admit, it was his face that really blew me away. That kind, kind face and those incredibly gentle green eyes. His beard was shadowing his cheeks again since he hadn’t shaved since morning, and the thought of dragging my fingertips over that sandpapery roughness made my heart clench inside my chest. His hair was still too long. It raged across his head like storm-tossed waves. I ached to bury my hands in it, to feel the weight and sturdiness of his head against my palms, to see his eyes close as I gently stroked his temples while breathing in his heated cinnamony scent.
I gave myself a shake. Good grief, I’d tumbled into perv territory again. No wonder I made him nervous.
To my surprise, he asked, “What were you thinking just now? You seemed so… far away.”
I tried not to look guilty as I watched his eyes. They had gone sleepy all of a sudden. Bedroom eyes. Jesus, that’s what they were. Bedroom eyes.
That was another thought I had to push away.
Desperate to pull myself together, I asked the first question that came to mind while purposely ignoring his. “Have you met any girls since you’ve been here? Anybody you’d want to date?”
The worry returned to his eyes as he gazed down at his feet for the umpteenth time. The moment he started blushing, he turned away and stared out over the railing, once again eyeing the orange sunset shimmering on the horizon. Streaks of clouds in the western sky were tinged in apricot now, glowing warm against the deepening blue. The sun was just on the verge of slipping out of view, ushering in the night. The moon, loitering in the wings, hung high in the sky above our heads, a ghostly pale crescent, waiting for its cue to come onstage.
“Look at that sunset,” he said.
I rose and moved to the railing to stand beside him, making sure our shoulders didn’t touch. Making sure I didn’t insert myself into his private space. Instead of studying the sky, I surreptitiously gazed down at his big hands resting on the rail, only inches from my own.
“Beautiful,” I said, and for some reason, I could suddenly hear
the thudding of my heart. It was so loud I wondered if Cory could hear it too.
He turned his head and studied me. “I’d like to be friends again,” he said. “I mean, if it’s all right.”
I returned his gaze, infinitely aware of how close we stood to each other. “We’ve been friends all along,” I said. “Life just intervened, I guess.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. He seemed to be staring at my mouth. “Then I think life needs to stop being such a pain in the ass,” he said, his lips softening into a gentle crescent of their own, just like the moon.
Mesmerized by his easy smile, I ached to take a step forward and fold myself against him. To lay my head upon his chest. To feel his strong arms close around me, holding me tight. The urge was so strong it startled me. Gathering together every ounce of willpower I possessed, I took a step back instead. Once again I stared out toward the western horizon. The clouds had gone from apricot to a fiery pink, and the sun had all but vanished. The very air around us cooled in an instant as nighttime began to settle in.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow,” I said. “If Beth and I can do it, anybody can. I’m almost embarrassed to let you see how inept we are when it comes to auditioning.”
“I don’t believe that. I think you guys are… great. It takes a lot of guts to attempt it at all.”
That brought forth a wry chortle, and this from a man who doesn’t chortle often. Me. “A lot of guts or a lot of stupidity.”
He didn’t laugh. “Will you stick with me tomorrow? Help me through it?”
I turned and stared into his wide, green eyes. To my surprise, I saw fear there. True fear. Good grief, the guy really was a nervous wreck.
“I won’t leave your side,” I said. “I promise.”
He slid his hand along the rail and laid it over mine. The warmth of his palm against my skin surged through me like a jolt of electricity. He was so close I could smell his clean scent. It was the scent of Sea Breeze, which he used in place of aftershave. I breathed it in like nectar. I could also smell the fabric softener on his clothes, like they had just come out of the dryer.
He gave my fingers a quick squeeze, then pulled his hand away and looked uncomfortable.
While I wondered what had just happened, if anything, Cory hesitated for just a moment, then asked quietly, “You wanna have a beer?”
Thank God, I thought. Mundanity.
“God, yes,” I said. “Let’s have two.”
Always up for social interaction, Rosemary thumped her tail against the floor, spit out a wad of soggy newsprint, and followed us into the kitchen.
MUSIC PLAYED softly on Beth’s boom box. She would kill me for changing it from her favorite radio channel, but this was not the time for rockabilly, which she loved. It must have been a Missouri roots thing. Personally, I needed easy listening at the moment. Something to match my mood. Whatever that indefinable mood was. I wasn’t quite sure.
Beth’s thrift-shop sofa sucked, what with a bunch of loose springs poking up here and there, so Cory sat beside me on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living room. We were sipping quietly at our beers and watching Rosemary snarl and snap at Leonard, who was lounging in his new terrarium by the picture window, draped over his branch of driftwood and haughtily ignoring the dog.
I was at the point now where I could look at the boa constrictor without collapsing into a screaming fit of heebie-jeebies, but I still didn’t like the idea of sharing my living space with a snake. Ever since the matter of the disappearing rats, Cory didn’t let me know when it was Leonard’s feeding time or when he’d been rat shopping. I think he suspected I’d had something to do with their breakout, but he was kind enough not to mention it. I must say, though, I felt a little guilty about it now. Rats aren’t cheap. And it’s not like you can fetch a Quarter Pounder with cheese for a frigging boa constrictor, since they prefer their meals wiggling and with a pulse.
The windows were dark now. The sun down. Another night beginning. Cory sat beside me in sweat pants and a muscle shirt that, while fresh out of the laundry, looked like it had been strafed a few times by enemy gunfire at the Battle of the Bulge. The shirt might have been a rag, but it didn’t detract from Cory one little bit. He was still the handsomest man I had ever seen in my life.
“So no new girlfriends, huh?” I asked. I delivered the line like I was teasing, but deep down inside I really wanted to know. Just so I could eat my heart out with jealousy, I suppose.
There was the briefest flash of dimples. I had a horrible suspicion he knew exactly what I was thinking. “No, Malcolm. No new girlfriends. In fact, I think I’m through with girlfriends for a while.”
“Why’s that?” (Yes, it’s true. My nosiness knows no bounds. It’s shameless, really.)
Cory sipped his beer, dimples still flashing, a secret smile turning his lips up at the ends. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”
Julio Iglesias sang something romantic on the radio. Or he might have been singing about hemorrhoids. I don’t know. I don’t speak Spanish.
“How’s your mom?” he asked. “Any new boyfriends?”
I studied the ceiling for a minute, wondering if I should tell him about our visit.
“She has something in her head,” I said. “She imagines romance everywhere she looks. This time it centers on me. Crazy old bat.”
He laughed. “Then I hope she’s right,” he said. “Romance is a good thing.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t seem sure.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know. Like I told you, I’ve never had one.”
He stared at me. “I find that so hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Because, Malcolm, you’re, you know, you. I think maybe you were made for romance.”
I stared at him. “Why would you say that?”
It was time for his hourly blush, and I almost smiled watching his ears turn red as if on cue.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess because you’re a nice guy. You should be with somebody you care about. Unless you like being alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I said. “I’ve got Beth. I’ve got you. I’ve got Rosemary.”
“You’ve got Leonard.”
I glanced at the snake. “Hmmph.”
Silence settled in again, but it didn’t last long. “Admit it, Malcolm. It was you who freed the rats.”
“Rats? What rats?”
He let it go, but he had a little smile playing at his lips that told me he wasn’t fooled.
“Okay,” I said. “I admit it. I let them go. I’ll pay you back the next time I get paid.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want your money. I want….” But his voice trailed away before he could tell me what it was.
“What?” I asked. “What do you want? You’ll have to tell me if you want me to know. I can’t read minds. My mother’s the only psychic in the family.”
“Nothing,” he said, all humor falling from his face. “I don’t want anything.”
He took a long pull from his beer, which killed it dead. He groaned his way to his feet and took off for the kitchen. Thirty seconds later he was back with two more. He placed both bottles on the coffee table and once again plopped down on the floor in front of me, cross-legged like I was, only this time he was much closer. He was so close our knees touched. He was so close my heart started hammering, and I felt a tightening in my boxer shorts. Uh-oh.
We jabbered back and forth for a while about inconsequential things, each of us making beer runs now and then. After some time had passed and the night grew later, I suddenly realized Cory and I had ten beer bottles sitting on the table in front of us. Eight of them were empty, the other two were doomed to follow suit shortly.
Cory cleared his throat and turned his emerald eyes to me. His eyes were so beautiful that I stopped breathing for a moment. I finally caught my breath, but when I heard what he said next, I stopped breathing again.
“My girlfrien
d,” he said, picking at the label on his beer, avoiding my gaze now. “Susan. She wanted more than I was willing to give.”
After hemming around for three weeks and not wanting to talk about it, apparently Cory had finally decided to bare his soul. While I might not be breathing very well, I was certainly all ears.
“What did she want?” I asked. “A commitment?”
Rosemary had stopped pestering the snake by now and was sleeping at Cory’s hip. Cory was idly twiddling her ear, still avoiding my eyes. “No. She wanted to take our relationship to the next level.”
“Love?”
“No.”
“What? She wanted to move in together?”
“No.”
“Well, Jesus, Cory, what did she want? A kidney?”
“She… she wanted sex.”
He was still avoiding my gaze, so I leaned over and tucked my finger under his chin, dragging his face to where he had to look at me. It took five beers for me to do it, but I finally did it. I touched him. When our eyes connected, I was astonished to see the sadness in his. The embarrassment.
“You went with her for over a year,” I said. “You must have already had sex.”
“No.”
“Well, jeez, Cory. What were you trying to do? Did you want to save it until after you were married?”
“I never wanted to marry her.”
“So what was the point of not having sex? I don’t understand.”
He drained his last beer and gazed at me with almost a look of defiance. “I didn’t want to have sex with her because I didn’t want to. She just never… excited me.”
“Then why did you date her?”
“I had to date somebody.”
I placed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I’ve got a headache. You’ve lost me, son. What are you trying to say? You dated her because she was convenient?”
Oddly enough, his face lit up at that. “Yes,” he said, more chipper than he had been in the last twenty minutes. “I think that was exactly it. She was convenient. My friends expected me to date somebody. Susan was handy.”
“Handy? Good grief, Cory. Hookers are handy. Kissing cousins are handy. I gotta tell you, I’m feeling a little sorry for Susan right now. She must have liked you a lot to put up with all that waiting.”
