Sara's Dilemma

by Erica Michaels

  No, Sara, she thinks, this man is probably gay and is just extending some kindness to you because you seem like a lonely overworked woman.

  She moves her hands into her lap, but the tingle in her stomach lingers.

  Erik seems taken aback and clears his throat.

  “I’m sorry if I…” he starts.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she interrupts. “You’re very kind, a very kind…man. I just…why did you invite me over here anyway?”

  Erik’s face shifts into a half-grin, already seeming recovered from her rejecting the hand brush.

  “Well, I’ve never seen a woman quite like you in here,” he says.

  Sara sighs. “I know…the pencil skirt, panty hose, this buttoned up blouse and stiff heels…”

  “The amber in your hair when it hit the sun, the way you walked so gracefully to the bar…” Erik fills in.

  Sara pauses and looks at him. Is he…flirting? she wonders. Maybe gay men are just supportive?

  “That’s…very kind of you,” she responds, not really sure what else to say.

  Erik leans back in his chair, seeming perhaps a little uneasy himself.

  Sara runs her hands over her thighs, as if straightening her skirt, though it doesn’t move much while she’s seated.

  “I apologize if I’ve come across cold,” she says, somewhat formally, “I’m just not used to a man being so kind or taking such notice of me. You have to understand, it’s a little peculiar to be hearing this from a stranger.”

  “And you’re suspicious?” Erik fills in.

  “No, not suspicious,” Sara responds. “I guess it’s just…unfamiliar. So, I stutter and backtrack and…maybe it’s because there’s no script. I mean, I’m at a gay bar, for God’s sake! At a gay bar with this…man who is complimenting me, but it probably doesn’t mean anything because you barely know me and…well…What am I supposed to say?”

  Sara stops speaking suddenly, realizing that she started going on with no filter, thankful she’d kept the filter on enough to leave “handsome” out of her description of the man she’d met at a gay bar.

  “Thank you, I guess?” Erik offers, leaning in a little, his expression easy again.

  His job makes him guarded, but this makes him delighted, she notices, seeing his eyes glimmer again.

  “Why did you buy my drink? Why are you even talking to me?” Sara asks, a little exasperated.

  “I’m not gay, Sara.”

  She looks at him again, raising an eyebrow and then begins to laugh, a full-bellied laugh that brings tears to her eyes. Erik seems unsure at first, and then lets out a laugh too.

  “Is it funny because you’re not gay either, or…” he asks after a few moments.

  “It’s unreal, Erik, really,” Sara says, her laughter fading away. “Just this whole day, this whole month, this whole year. I spent five nights in a hotel room talking to no one but my coworkers and sitting through corporate bank meetings, spending each night alone getting to bed as fast as I can just to avoid thinking about my life. Then for whatever reason, something possesses me to switch up the routine and walk into a gay bar, because obviously I’m not looking for anything since I wouldn’t find it in a gay bar, and then this handsome man buys my drink while his friends nearly make-out in front of me and you’re telling me this man isn’t gay and invited me over here because he was interested? It’s just unreal, Erik!” She almost laughs again, but Erik looks so still and serious, she just lets out a breath.

  “It’s real, Sara,” he says with a calm smile.

  When she doesn’t respond right away, he reaches out a hand and places it over hers. She doesn’t move back this time.

  “Come for a ride with me tonight, Sara,” he says.

  “On your…motorcycle?” she asks.

  “Yes, a night ride. I’ll take you to the top of South Mountain, we’ll see the city lights, you don’t have to think about work or anything. You don’t even have to pretend you like me, just let me take you there — let show you how beautiful the Phoenix lights are.”

  She can’t help but smile back at him, at the kindness that she feels in his words alone.

  “I can’t, Erik,” she says. “I have to write pages of programming code before tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ve been working so hard…” Erik begins.

  “Lovely to see you two getting along!”

  Louis’ voice interrupts their conversation as he comes strutting back to the table, his gold-painted nails shimmering off the patio lights that have begun to flicker on. Sara flinches backwards, taking her hands out from under Erik’s and placing them in her lap.

  “You two were gone for a long time,” Erik says smoothly, sitting back in his chair as if everything was completely normal and the woman sitting across from him was an old friend.

  “Gay bar bathrooms are pretty happening places,” Jasper says, winking.

  “Come on lovelies, let’s get home where we can make drinks that aren’t watered down,” Louis says, raising his voice on the last words with a hand cupped around his mouth, as if the bartenders were listening. He puts out a hand to Sara and says, “Darling, you have to come to our condo — Jasper can make such a mean Manhattan.”

  Sara smiles back at him but doesn’t take his hand. “That’s a kind offer, but I have work in the morning.”

  “Please, Sara,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Our condo is just around the corner and you can work when you’re dead.”

  “Louis, honey, I don’t think that actually…” Jasper starts.

  “Pish, posh, Jasper, you know my drunk brain doesn’t operate under Capitalist logic,” Louis interrupts with a dramatic sigh. He smiles a moment later, giving Sara that look like she’s in on his joke. She can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Please, my darling Sara, I know we just met, and I probably terrify you, but what other night is there than tonight?”

  Sara wavers for a moment, and glances at Erik, who shrugs back at her.

  “Just for one drink,” she says, and takes Louis’ hand.

  Going to the Condo

  Louis and Jasper’s condo is a ten-minute walk away. As they walk, Louis and Jasper make friendly conversation, sometimes asking Sara things, but mostly carrying on with their banter. Sara doesn’t mind stepping back in the conversation, and in some ways feels relieved that they seem to be acting their normal selves around her, that in the span of a couple hours, they’ve already considered her a kind of friend.

  They approach a 4-story building, red brown on the outside, and walk up a flight of stairs. Louis opens the door extravagantly, gesturing with his hands to lead them inside. Sara nods with a smile on her face, realizing she hasn’t smiled like this in a long time.

  Inside, Sara encounters a beautiful living room, a glass table sits in the center of the room with a sculpture underneath of blown glass, twisting like clouds around purple and white swirls of color. Around the table sits a couch and two armchairs, upholstered with matching off-white-lavender fabric.

  “Take a seat,” Jasper says, already heading to the kitchen just beyond the living room.

  Louis sighs, falling into one of the armchairs, and Sara takes a seat next to Erik on the couch.

  “What a Sunday,” Louis says, grinning at both Jasper and Erik.

  “No work today, huh Louis?” Erik responds.

  Louis shakes his head slowly, grinning like a fool. “Just a day to meet an old friend I love with the man I love in the city I love…not too bad I’d say.” He looks to the kitchen where Jasper is busy mixing drinks, then looks back to Sara with an almost piercing gaze, his dark brown eyes looking black in the dim lighting of the living room. “And what about you darling?”

  “What about me?” Sara says, more assertive now that she’s starting to understand how Louis speaks.

  “Did you live in a city you love?”

  “Well, I live in a couple different places, and I don’t know if I love either…maybe I could love Phoenix, if I wasn’t working all the ti
me,” Sara responds.

  Louis nods slowly. “And do you end your days with a man you love?”

  Sara pauses for a moment. She doesn’t end her most days with any sort of man, but the days she does…?

  “No,” she answers easily, but takes care not to glance at Erik sitting on her right.

  Jasper careens into the room holding two glasses of brown liquid with a hint of yellow lemon at the top.

  “A Manhattan for our longest friend,” Jasper says, passing the drink to Erik. “And to our newest friend.”

  Sara takes the drink from Jasper’s hand, nodding as a thank you.

  “What about a drink your sexiest friend?” Louis demands, indignant.

  “My sexiest friend has had quite a bit to drink and if he drinks much more, he might not be the sexiest friend later,” Jasper says in a sing-songy voice, kissing the top of Louis’ head.

  Louis pouts in response, his lower lip thick and pitiful.

  “Alright, I’ll let you choose — a drink like this?” Jasper points towards the glass in Erik’s hand. “Or a something…sweeter?” He leans over and speaks the last bit in Louis’ ear, but loud enough that Sara still hears. She blushes as she sees Jasper brush his fingers down the center of Louis’ ribs and tighten his hand around Louis’ right thigh. Louis’ blank pants are tight enough that Sara can see a bulge between his legs and averts her eyes before anyone notices her staring.

  “Mm…something sweeter?” Louis responds dreamily, his hands traveling dangerously up Jasper’s thigh.

  “Guys, please,” Erik interrupts.

  Louis sighs. “Straight boys are no fun.”

  So, he really is straight, Sara thinks, her head spinning a bit.

  Jasper kisses Louis innocently on the head.

  “My apologies, I forgot we had a rather new guest,” Jasper says, somewhat cordially, as he turns back towards Sara and Erik.

  “No…problem,” Sara says, coughing a bit and covering up her blush with a sip of her drink.

  “You should come to one of our parties sometime, darling, they’re much, much worse,” Louis says, sitting up now and leaning towards the table to pick up a glass of water.

  Erik nods in agreement, “It’s true.”

  “You’re probably the only straight man that braves it,” Jasper comments.

  Erik shrugs, “I like spending time with my good friends.”

  Sara eyes Erik peculiarly. How did a straight man become so close to these men? Sara wonders, or maybe, what kind of a straight man goes to gay parties? She can only imagine what happens at these parties, or why Erik would want to go. There must be some element of socializing, she figures. She takes another drink of the Manhattan in her hand.

  “This is really quite excellent,” she says with a bit of awe. She hadn’t processed earlier how good the drink was because of her embarrassment.

  “He makes the best,” Erik agrees, taking a sip.

  A moment of silence passes, and Sara wonders if she should leave, but half her Manhattan is left, and she actually thinks she’s enjoying herself.

  “Alright, but you have to hear about one of the first parties Erik came to,” Jasper says, leaning in with a glimmer of comedy on his face.

  “I don’t…maybe that’s not the best story to tell,” Erik says, looking a little nervous.

  “Of course, it is!” Louis squeals. “You’d known us for almost six months, and we were having a housewarming.”

  “We warned you not to come,” Jasper says.

  “Saying it’d be real, real gay…” Louis adds.

  “But you insisted, saying you needed to support your clients.”

  “Always so, so courteous,” Louis grins.

  “Anyway, then you brought a date with you,” Jasper goes on. “She seemed nice enough, but pretty reserved, hair all pinned up and dressed too formal for a party…”

  Sara squirmed in her seat for a moment, wondering if that’s how she looked right now, in her pencil squirt and blouse.

  “Nothing like Sara darling over here,” Louis interjects.

  Why nothing like me? Sara wonders. Perhaps they do think I’m fun-loving…I guess I took the risk to come to a stranger’s house. Then a second thought comes into Sara’s head, they’re talking about Erik’s date…and comparing me to her. Do they think I’m Erik’s date?

  “Your date was so uncomfortable,” Jasper says, beginning to laugh.

  “We weren’t even doing anything that gay! I think it was just the environment of barely dressed men, and of course, the gay lissssp.” Louis draws out the “s” in lisp with a “th,” exaggerating it.

  Erik begins to laugh too, “The look on her face was just…wow I realized right away I had made a mistake.”

  Sara wants to laugh with them but is still thinking about the concept of a date with Erik. I can’t be on a date; I’m married, she thinks, glancing down at her left hand. The ring isn’t there, but the skin is still smooth around the place it used to be, like a worry stone worn down from rubbing it too much. She’d stopped wearing her ring months ago, saying it was going to get too beat up while she was traveling and that she was afraid of losing it. Her husband didn’t seem to think much of it, but she wonders now if that was the real reason she took it off.

  “What ended up happening that night?” Jasper asks, in the levity of laughter. “Did you take her right home or what?”

  “I think she might have started saying she was getting a stomachache, so I drove her home and said good-night and came back to the party,” Erik says.

  “Never called you again, right?” Jasper clarifies.

  Erik shakes his head in affirmation, a grin still wide on his face.

  “Good riddance! Can’t handle a few Queens in a room? Not worth the time of Erik Bondar,” Louis says, snapping his fingers.

  Erik Bondar, Sara repeats in her head. It felt familiar somehow.

  The conversation drifts into other stories of their past, and Sara soon finds herself listening with gusto, even laughing, starting to get this image of who these men are, of who Erik Bondar is — both serious and playful, conscientious and adventurous, and always kind.

  Eventually, as the Manhattan drinks drain, Louis turns his head over to Jasper with a fat, pouting pink lip.

  “You’ve been very patient over there,” Jasper comments.

  “I knooow,” Louis says with a hint of whining, “And I didn’t even have a drink.”

  “A boy should be rewarded for that, hmm?”

  Louis offers out his hand, wrist twisted effeminately and nails gleaming. Jasper takes his hand and they wander down the hallway, enter a room, and latch the door behind them. Immediately, a hard thump is heard on the door followed by rushed kissing noises in-between gasps of pleasure.

  A deep moan comes from the other side of the condo, and Sara finds herself blushing. When she looks at Erik, he too has some red in his cheeks. They giggle.

  “Is this…normal?” Sara asks.

  “Not really with new people…” Erik responds. “I don’t think they’ve had much to drink tonight, maybe they just feel comfortable around you?” Erik shrugs.

  Sara nods slowly. “Maybe a bit too comfortable.”

  “I have to thank you, Sara,” Erik says. Sara notices how the pink in his cheeks makes him look a little younger, almost boyish and innocent. “If you hadn’t come, I would have had to endure this alone!”

  “Even after ten years, you don’t want to sit in their living room while they have sex? Erik Bondar, what kind of a friend are you?” she jokes.

  Erik laughs, shaking his head. “A straight friend,” he answers, then adds, “Not necessarily my idea of a fun Sunday evening, and believe me, most evenings with them do not end this way. They’re usually very polite.”

  “They’re fun people,” Sara says, thinking about the number of times Louis has made her laugh tonight. A loud slapping sound comes from the other room, and Sara recognizes the squeal of pleasure as Louis’.

  “Yes, perha
ps a bit too fun,” Erik agrees.

  Sara pulls out her phone for the first time all evening, checking the time. 10:49pm.

  “Oh, I really must be going,” she says, thinking of all the code she needs to write for the bank client before tomorrow.

  “Probably my cue to leave too,” says Erik.

  “Should we…say good-bye?” Sara asks, looking towards the bedroom door down the hall. “I’d like to at least say thank you.”

  As she stands up, another series of intense slapping sounds come from room, followed by a deeper moan of pleasure.

  “I’ll pass along your message,” Erik says, putting a hand to Sara’s shoulder, gently leading her to the front door.

  Instead of a jolt of tingling, like she felt earlier when Erik touched her hand, his touch feels more like a calm warmth. She closes her eyes, trying to memorize the feeling.

  You’re married, she thinks as her eyes open suddenly, as if scolding herself. Maybe the warmth is just alcohol…

  Erik walks her down the stairs.

  “I’m headed back towards the bar,” she says.

  “Me too.”

  They walk in comfortable silence at first. Sara is glad to have him with her. She isn’t ordinarily scared at night, but she isn’t as used to Phoenix as much as she is to Flagstaff.

  “I’m very glad to have met you tonight,” Erik says as they walk.

  “Why is that?” Sara asks.

  Erik’s pace slows a bit as he gazes at her. She doesn’t look back — her left thumb traces the place where her wedding ring used to sit.

  “You seem like an interesting woman,” he says.

  “At least one who doesn’t get all uptight at a gay man’s house?”

  He laughs, “Yes.” Then, after a moment, “And maybe…well, it just seems like I’m supposed to know you in some way.”

  “You just met me,” she responds dryly.

  “Yes, but something feels…comfortable about you. Like I’ve known you a long time.”

  Sara thinks back to her little outburst in the bar, where she expressed how overworked she was. Was that familiarity or stress? She couldn’t tell, but she’s glad it didn’t scare Erik away.