"I could show you around. It may be nice… you know? Me and you."
"Where would we stay?" Curtis asked, his eyes on the floor.
"My parents. I sometimes tell them about you. About school."
Curtis's stomach dropped. They were just hooking up. Just hooking up. This was not a meet-the-parents affair. Curtis just couldn't do that. Even his mother didn't know he sometimes made out with guys. He was going to get married and have kids anyway, so why did they need to know? All paths still led to the same ending. So why bother breaking his poor mother's heart?
"I…I don't think I can come."
"Oh?" Adrian's face fell. Curtis tried not to see.
"Yeah, I have a math exam to get ready for that week and I shouldn't be gone at a show for more than a night."
"Right, I remember," Adrian said. Curtis didn't know how Adrian could remember the math exam, especially since he had made it up.
"Maybe later?" Curtis offered, knowing it was false. "Some show in the city?"
Adrian squeezed his leg, before moving towards the door. "Yeah, maybe later."
There were another couple of furtive glances and false promises, before Adrian eventually left. On that break, Curtis had met Darcy for the first time, when she had been talking about Jawbreaker at a house party of a friend of a friend. She had taken him aside and made crude jokes with him, then listened to Curtis as he discussed the merits of Jello Biafra's new spoken word projects after The Dead Kennedys and everything else he had half-formed opinions on. She hadn't been afraid to call him out when she disagreed. It had all happened so fast, but Curtis knew he was head over heels for her. This was the girl he would stop fucking around for and start paying attention in school again. This was the woman he wanted to impress, and no longer just bullshit his way through assignments—or conversations over beer at a house party. Life took on a serious tone, one he couldn't shake, even as Adrian came back from the break.
When the two had met up again, this time in a coffee house just by Curtis's dorm, Adrian had been in a foul mood. He slammed all the doors and bitched about the cafeteria's coffee, when Curtis knew that Adrian would drink day old mugs he found in his apartment, so long as it had caffeine.
"What's wrong?" Curtis asked. "Because it's clearly not the weather or the coffee. Tell me, man."
"Ah, nothing. Just the shows I went to sucked. The bands didn't know how to play—but not in the good way. Plus, I took the bus by myself and got in at three am, so I got mugged. I needed you around for protection, I guess." Adrian laughed, but it was stifled.
"Aw, man. I'm so sorry."
Adrian waved the concern away and started to talk about something else while Curtis did his best to listen. They even fucked around once more—just jerking off—but Curtis didn't really kiss him. He was too focused on trying to get Darcy alone to kiss her. Once Curtis did, and he managed to get her to go on a real date with him, that had been it. They were an item and had been ever since. Curtis and Adrian fell out of touch as they graduated and moved on with their lives and got jobs. They both stayed in the Toronto area because they liked the shows there, and thanks to Facebook, had become friends again, this time with wives and kids.
For a long time, Curtis thought that had been the end of the story. But now, with the hum of Friends in the background, Curtis sat in the dark and wondered about his life with Adrian again. He thought of the show they had met at, the first time they had kissed. He remembered the same way he and Darcy had kissed, too. Curtis rubbed his hands over his face with a long, extended sigh. He knew he loved his wife. No question, no doubt.
But he worried he may also love his best friend, too.
Chapter Nine
Hard Luck Bar's door was broken. A big cardboard sign—clearly taken off a shipment of beer—declared in scrawled Sharpie that the times for The Tourists had been changed from seven to eight at night.
"Eight?" Curtis huffed. He held his hands in front of his mouth, blowing on them as he rubbed them together. His hoodie—and Adrian's jean jacket—did nothing for the sudden temperature drop at the end of March. "The one time we're on time and everyone else is late."
"I know, right?" Adrian gave Curtis a wide smile and placed his hand gently on the shoulder. "I think I saw a coffee place a few paces back. Do you want to go there and warm up?"
Considering their car was over in Chinatown, a couple blocks away in the cheap parking, it sounded like a good idea. Even if he hated the idea of going to a well-lit place and making small talk over coffee. He was worried every word he said to Adrian now was hinged with double meaning or stilted with anger. The two hadn't been texting much at all anymore, aside from quick I'm on my way now or something similar. Even Adrian being exactly on time to Curtis's place was more indicative of the tension between them than anything else. When they were late, Curtis knew it was because they were comfortable together—and usually because their kids got in the way. Lateness was nice, and Curtis knew that now. Sometime being late reaffirmed just how much you wanted it in the first place. But warmth was also nice, especially since Curtis was sure he saw a few flakes of snow fall from the already dark sky.
"Sure. Coffee would be nice."
"Good. My treat."
Adrian bought them two medium coffees as Curtis scouted out the seat in the corner. Once he sat down, Curtis was surprised when Adrian went right into talking about Radiohead and Thom York's solo work.
"You heard it yet?"
"Nah. I've fallen behind catching up with new band CDs. I've mostly been reliving old ones as of lately."
"I'll burn you something, then. But I was looking on YouTube for this band, and it looks like they're opening with 'Street Spirit.' Which is totally the wrong move. I mean..."
Adrian went on and on. He spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly, and barely sipping at his coffee. Curtis felt bad feeling bored or un-amused. Especially because normally, hearing the inspiration behind songs was half the reason he read liner notes and band interviews. After a few sips of coffee, Curtis began to tune into what Adrian was saying more. Just focus on his words, he told himself, and you won't have to worry about your own fucking thoughts. As it turned out, 'Street Sprit (Fade Out)' was supposed to be about facing the devil and having him laugh in your face.
"The devil always wins. He never honours bargains. You ever read Faustus?"
Curtis shook his head.
"Figures they'd only make lawyers read it. But yeah, it's basically about the same thing: don't make deals with the devil. He will never honour your bargains. I could have just listened to this Thom York interview instead of reading it my law philosophy class. Would have been a lot easier." Adrian paused, but barely for a breath. "You know, Radiohead is so depressing—but they always try to have something in the middle of their songs. Some branch of hope. But Thom says that 'Street Spirit' is one of the only ones that can't have that, because it's the devil you're working with. No one ever wins. That's why it's a terrible opening song. If they open with it, I may have to heckle them."
"I can't see you heckling anything. Not even the shitty bands we saw in…" Curtis trailed off, not wanting to finish. Adrian, still talking quickly, didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah, you're right. I probably won't heckle. What good is public shaming?"
When Adrian finally took a sip of coffee after another spiel about Thom York's writing process, Curtis spoke up. "So. As much as I like hearing your Behind The Music analysis, can we talk for a while?"
"I thought that's what we were doing, Curtis." Adrian said. He smiled—but Curtis recognized that off-kilter grin. Adrian was nervous, and that gave Curtis hope.
"Well, you're talking mostly. I've been quiet."
Adrian nodded, pressing his lips tightly together to keep from speaking. Curtis took a sip of his coffee, before he finally dared to ask what had been on his mind all week.
"So... I was wondering more about what you told me on Saturday. You and Simone okay?"
Adrian looked down. "Yeah, w
e're fine. Really."
"So what's going on then?"
"It's uhhh. It's hard to explain. I don't even have all the words yet."
"Try me."
Adrian sighed. He looked around the coffee house, as if he expected the tired shift workers to really care about his sex life. When he leaned in closer Curtis, Curtis had to fight a sudden belly flop of desire. He shut his eyes tight and tried to push his thoughts away. He tilted his head so Adrian could whisper, and they didn't have to make complete eye contact all the time. Adrian seemed to appreciate it.
"You know what I've been going through, right? I've told you a couple times I've missed guys. Simone could tell. She sat me down and it suddenly came out. So we talked and talked about it. And she said she was okay with me seeing other people. An open marriage—but not really, you know?"
"But that is an open marriage," Curtis said. "You're no longer monogamous. That's what seeing other people means."
"Yeah..." Adrian's face fell. He seemed to stutter slightly as he attempted to explain, his hands brushing the edge of his cup. "I know that's what it means. But it's not as gross as media makes open marriage sound. This isn't like Big Love or one of those guys who gets bored halfway through and wants to fuck around. I'm not like that—neither is she. We're still married. That's never changing. We're partners in work and in life, you know?"
"So what has changed?"
"I can go out now. Every once in a while. Just to bars. To meet guys. There are rules for it."
"And what are they?"
"Protection. Always have protection."
" Obviously."
"Obviously. And just guys. Just as hook-ups, too. Not relationships."
"Ah, okay." Curtis shifted, sinking a little into his seat. He let all the details roll out in his mind, but couldn't stop seeing them in contract terms. He didn't know if that was good or bad. "I see."
"Yeah, it sounds more complicated than it is. But lots of couples do this, especially as they get older. We're going to keep talking about it and checking in with one another to see if we're comfortable."
"What does Simone get out of all of this?" Curtis asked. "Is that something you discussed, too?"
Adrian nodded thoughtfully and drank his coffee. "It was one of my first concerns. I actually wondered if she missed women."
"And did she?"
Adrian shook his head. "But we decided that she gets more weekends away."
"That's... it? Just weekends away?"
"Yeah. She wanted time and space to pretend to be twenty-four again, if I got to be in my twenties, too. While I go out and find some guys to be with every so often, she can go back to Montreal, pretend to be an artist."
"You're always you. You'll still like guys, whether or not you're married. And she'll always be an artist, even if she doesn't always have time to paint." Curtis felt his voice rising suddenly, so balled his fists under the table instead and spoke evenly. "Just because time changes, doesn't mean you two do. Right?"
Adrian's face fell a bit, as if he had already dealt with this dead-end reasoning. When he went to run his hand through his hair, his fingers abruptly stopped. He had gotten a haircut this past week, Curtis could tell, and now he could no longer distract himself. "Yes, of course we're still the same. But that doesn't mean we still can't have what we want. These choices are not mutually exclusive. It's not like we want to go back to being twenty-four or that we're scared of staying together. We talked about that the most—we're excited for our future. But the future's always heavy, right? It's sometimes nice to just stop for a while and forget we're barrelling forward. Just to paint or to…Fuck around for a bit, I guess."
"I guess," Curtis said. He tried to give Adriana a smile, but it came out crooked. Adrian didn't seem to notice—or dwell. He moved on, explaining some of the parameters and how the conversation came up. Curtis could still tell he was being evasive about some things, but he was articulate with others. And really, the arrangement sounded better the more Adrian explained it. Curtis had to admit, forgetting his own feelings and the way in which he wanted to be a part of Adrian's life, Curtis didn't want Adrian and Simone to break up. He hated that idea—it was almost as bad as thinking he caused it. But if she was getting something out of the deal, and so was Adrian, what was the harm? They were adults, and Curtis needed to be happy for them. Even if he felt a little betrayed, he was sure it would pass. What else could he really do? Adrian was only out for hook-ups. Not a love story. So Curtis swallowed down whatever impulse emerged deep inside of him. "So, have you gone out yet?"
When Adrian grinned, Curtis almost forgot his own jealousy. Almost. Adrian just looked so happy again—almost the way he had been when they met at the bus stop ten years ago, and they had started to talk about music together.
"So tell me! What's your story? What happened?"
"Here?"
"Why not?" Curtis looked around and leaned closer to Adrian. Now that they were no longer avoiding one another's eyes, Curtis felt his excitement come back. They had never... been face to face discussing sex like this. Or in public. The sudden thought only titillated Curtis more. "No one really cares about us, Adrian. Just tell me."
"Well, I've only been out twice. The same guy—Dave—since he was okay with the parameters, but I probably won't see him again."
"Why not?"
"Because," Adrian said, waving a hand away. Curtis noted the wedding ring on his finger, and felt good to see it there. "He was a good kid, but these are just hook-ups. He knows I have a wife and was okay with it. Seemed to excite him, actually. After he brought me to his place, we talked, and then he just went at it." Adrian paused, shook his head. "I should probably start the scene better, shouldn't I? Well, he found me at the bar because apparently, to him, I looked like a gay dad after a divorce. His favourite kind, he said. But I also had on my Killers T-shirt, and well, things were pretty easy from there."
Though Curtis nodded along, the same bleak feeling from before came back as Adrian tried to describe what the kid—Dave—looked like and how his place smelled like meat and weed. A stoner, a student, and … someone who was just like them ten years ago. Only now, when hooking up was fun and a lot easier. Curtis tried not to be sad, but the only other option here seemed to be anger. And that wasn't right, either.
"He was actually really, really talented. He gave such good blowjobs. I wasn't expecting that... I think half the reason I let him take me somewhere was because I figured he'd be as inexperienced as I was. So wrong. So, so wrong." Adrian laughed a little. "Grindr, man. Changing the world for the next generation of gay youth. He told me he learned how to suck cock from meeting guys on there."
Curtis recognized the gay dating app from all the comedy sketches or late night shows that had mentioned it alongside Tinder. It seemed easier to focus on than anything else Adrian was saying. "Why don't you use it?"
Adrian shrugged. "I considered it. But I think I just prefer the personal touch. You know, like locking eyes from across the room. I like that sudden excitement of—oh, did he look at me? Oh, yes, he looked at me. It's even better when that happens a couple times, and then you meet and realize you were going to the same place all along. It feels… better that way. Especially when you start to talk to the guy and realize he saw you too, and that thing—whatever it was—really did occur between you. I don't believe in love at first sight, obviously, but I do like that sudden and instant connection. And bars make that easier, I guess."
"Yeah, I get that," Curtis said, trying to keep his voice even. He closed his eyes and saw a brief flash of the concert where he and Adrian had met for the first time. Their eyes connecting across the room, recognizing the other from the bus stop, and then their talk on the way back to the stop to begin with. Not fate, not love, but… connection. Curtis understood that far too well. He opened his eyes as quickly as he had closed them. "I…hope you have good luck, then. With the next guy. Whoever he may be."
"Mhhm. Thanks…I haven't even really finished telling
you about this guy, though."
"Right. Dave." Curtis bit his lip, feeling suddenly foolish. "I'm sorry I cut in."
"No, it's okay. We got distracted. I can tell you now, if you want. Or we can wait?" Adrian's skin was slightly pink as he took a drink. Curtis could hear the empty hollow of his coffee cup as he placed it down on the table again. Curtis's skin prickled with excitement, but his stomach was still full of dread. He pulled out his phone to check the time, and noticed it was only about ten to eight.
"Let's wait on that. The door's are going to be open soon."
"If they're on time. But sure, let's go. Probably better I finish the story later, anyway. Stretch this out just in case those days are over," Adrian added. "Sometimes I really do worry youth is behind us. Bars aren't really the best scene to navigate for me."
"You'll figure it out."
"Yeah. I guess I'll have to." Adrian
As they both headed out into the cold March air, Adrian flipped his collar up and Curtis drew his hands into his sleeves.
"Is that snow?" Adrian scoffed.
"Yeah," Curtis laughed. "I think it is."
*~*~*
Curtis stared at the ground as The Tourists continued to fuck up Radiohead's classics. He and Adrian were at the back of the bar, on high stools, half-perched on the counter. Adrian bought an imported beer, but Curtis decided it was probably best to stay sober. He had too many questions inside his head right now that he worried about alcohol making them rush to the surface. In the coffee place, Adrian's open relationship had seemed to make sense. But now, Curtis didn't know. Did Adrian really plan on going out again? What about Simone—did she ask, the same way Curtis asked, what Adrian and the men did afterwards? Did she want to know or care? Curtis still couldn't figure out why or how they had started this huge change in their relationship.
Most of all, it didn't really seem fair. Like it tainted something that had been really good. Curtis felt ashamed for that thought, because he knew that wasn't true. Adrian and Simone were perfect for one another. They were adults and happy. So what if this was part of their relationship now? Why did it matter to Curtis?
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