Landslide (35 page)

I blow out another breath, hastily grab a box and start yanking pictures off and nails out of the walls while Payton grabs a box of his own. “You know, it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier and faster if you classified your books and movies by genre instead of alphabetically,” he complains and then holds up a Blu-ray disc, “Oh, hey, I haven’t seen this one. Can I hide it so I can watch it after she leaves?”

I look at the movie in question and my mouth falls open yet again. “Absolutely not! None of them can be in this house when Erica gets here, man! Jesus Christ, use your head…I mean how would I explain having that without lying to her?”

“Yeah, I know, you’re right,” the movie slips from his fingers and lands in the box already halfway full.

Two hours later we’re trudging down the road to my dad’s house for the second time; Payton pulling a wagon and me pushing a wheelbarrow; both filled with bones belonging to a skeleton that is entirely more alive than dead…one that Erica will likely view as so fearsome, it definitely needs to be kept hidden in a crypt until I’m either certain she can handle coming face to face with it, or, until the hourglass runs out of sand and forces my hand. Whichever form the inevitability of Erica being told takes, I’m still diving in. And actually, I can’t wait to get in over my head now that I’ve made the decision, regardless of where I’m left when all is said and done. Although once I’ve taken the plunge and gone deep enough to unveil the secrets I’ve kept from her, both new and old, I can only hope and pray to God that she’ll be understanding.

“I never thought I’d be so flaming as to wear feathers in public but, I am just
loving
this thing,” Payton enthuses, running the fingers of his free hand through the electric blue boa around his neck, “It’s a tad on the frilly side of course, but it’s so soft…I
must
get one.”

“Of course you must…” I mutter and chuckle at him as he continues to nuzzle the feathers.

The last load of things we’d already carted to my house from my dad’s only one day ago is safely stowed away again, and upon shutting my front door, the lingering odor of fresh paint wafts up from a room downstairs and has both of us sniffing the air and staring horrified at each other.

 
“She’s definitely gonna want a tour of the house you built with your own two hands, isn’t she?”

I nod in stupefied answer. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Payton…what do I do? I’m totally fucked. I mean unless we go down there and p—”

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence. I worked my ass off on that room.”

I nod. “I know and it’s perfect.” A thought occurs to me, but a glance at the time has me squeezing my eyes shut tight and swallowing a highly aggravated shout.

“What?”

“Well, I was thinking I could run to the hardware store and buy a doorknob that locks and replace the one already on there for the time being, but I think all they have in right now are levered handles or deadbolts, like for a front door, and I don’t have enough time to run into Blue Jay or Arrowhead.” Then an adapted lightbulb goes off in my head. “
Although
, I could swap the knob from the downstairs bathroom door with that one…”

“Yeah, but how do you explain why the door is locked and why you won’t unlock it to show her when she asks, because you
know
she will…I mean I would.”

“So, I just say…what? That you mistakenly put the wrong knob on because we were in a hurry to finish, and you locked it to make sure it was all lined up correctly, but in the mess of moving and unpacking, we can’t find any of those little keys to unlock it and because the room isn’t really being used for anything right now and is more or less empty, it hasn’t been a priority to go get a key from the store.”

“Brother, I don’t know if I should be proud or disturbed. ‘Cause I mean, aside from blaming me, you’re an exceptional liar, you know that?”

I shrug. “Well, I figure having spent more than two decades perfecting my craft by lying to myself, I would hope to be at least a
little
adept at lying to everyone else by now.”

“Proud it is then.”

The doorknob is exchanged, the room is locked up tight, relieved sighs are heaved, and I’m able to take a quick shower while Payton straightens up the rest of the house and starts on dinner. Emerging from my bathroom all sparkly clean, I have to laugh at myself for feeling like a ridiculously eager teenage girl who’s getting ready for her first formal dance, anticipating it to be the best night of her life. When my mouth starts watering as I look at the clock and take in the aroma of cow being broiled to melt-in-your-mouth perfection, though, I stop laughing and I shrug, not caring in the least anymore that a single impending dinner with a woman has turned me into an even bigger girly-man than my gay best friend.
 

I climb the stairs while pondering what game face I should wear this evening, although rounding the corner into my living room and seeing Payton sprawled on my couch watching Monday Night Football in his comfy sweats and with a beer in his hand, my face loses all trace of any game whatsoever and becomes a confused blank. I mean he’s even got a TV tray in front of him that has a piping hot plate of dinner and a lit candle on it.

“Um…I don’t even know what it is about this scene that’s the most confusing…that you’re wearing stained sweat pants, that you went ahead and dished up your food before Erica is even here, and seriously, a TV tray? Is that even allowed by your kind?”

“She had to cancel, dude,” he tells me over his shoulder, “Your dinner is keeping hot in the microwave, though.” Then he reaches down and pulls out a beer from the cooler at his feet and tosses it to me, patting the cushion next to him in invitation. “You want me to light a candle for your tray too?”
 

Openmouthed, I struggle for words and just shake my head, not knowing what else to say or do. “She cancelled? You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re just playing a really mean joke or trying to one up me on the lying thing.”

“Wish I were, bro. She sent me a text when you were in the show—”

“Wait, she sent
you
a text? What the hell?”

“Hey, calm down, would ya? I had to give her your address somehow you know, and neither of us had anything to write with while we were standing in the bread aisle for Christ’s sake, so I got her number and texted it to her. It’s not a big deal, and just so you know, I heard your phone go off when mine did. I didn’t snoop, but I’m guessing it was her.”

I stalk over to the alcove adjacent to the living room that’s serving as my office for the time being and grab my phone from the desk. Sure enough, I have a text
and
a missed call from Erica. She hadn’t left a message so I don’t even get to hear her voice. Her text simply explains that her job interview got pushed back and she won’t be able to make it tonight.

Utterly deflated and irked, I toss my phone back on the desk as I collapse dejected into the rolling chair. “So, did you text her back already or what?”

“Yep, and you’ll be happy to hear that I took what you said earlier under advisement and left the ball in her court.”

Oh, Jesus Christ…

“Meaning…?”

“I told her we understood, and to let us know when would be good for her as far as rescheduling. So, there…now when she comes over, it won’t be because she feels obligated to accept an impromptu invitation. You’re welcome. Now, quit moping and go eat before it gets cold.”

“I’m not hungry,” I spit out in ill temper, spinning in my chair a few times to keep Payton from seeing my pouty face clearly enough to ridicule me about it.

It doesn’t work.

“Oh my God, you’re being such a girl. Are you sure
you
don’t have an innie instead of an outie?” he laughs at me.

I glare at him and when he looks back at the TV in time to catch a touchdown, I grab my Nerf dart gun and take careful aim.

“I can see you. Don’t even
think
about pulling the trigg—OUCH! You fucker!” he hollers, the dart hitting the dead center of his ear.

He retaliates by hurling a bottle cap at me, and with that, war is declared. He scrambles behind the couch and pulls the cooler filled with his chosen ammunition closer to him, and I take cover behind my desk chair. As bottle caps and darts fly through the air, eating an elegant dinner by candlelight is forgotten, as is professional football.

But even as distracting as war can certainly be, and try as I might to employ it for such a purpose, it’s never been enough to keep Erica from my mind. Thus, when the battle is over and we go to bed, I envy Payton peacefully dreaming in my bed, because sleep doesn’t come as easily to me. The last week or so, I’ve slept surprising well on my couch, but not tonight. Tonight I find myself tossing and turning, inhaling letdown and exhaling disappointment with every washed-out breath I take. Sink or swim, all I wanted with my entire being was to fling myself into waters vast and uncertain; knowing that once I do, there’s no going back and I’ll either drown in heartbreak, or be lifted high enough to grab a handful of stardust. Instead I’m left standing on the shore, waiting—yet again.

No, sleep won’t come easy until I’m finally able to just…dive.

32

“Traveling Soldier”

—Erica—

Precariously balancing a homemade hot milk sponge cake in one hand and grabbing the handrail of the wet porch steps with the other, I take a deep breath and swallow. The journey to Cole’s front door seems to be fraught with palpable suspicion and even intangible hazards to my health as I look up at the light glowing warm from a window. My uncertain foot finds purchase on the first step and I try to once again convince myself that’s there’s nothing to fear within those walls. Nothing that is except what facing a man, his boyfriend, and my own regrets will do to me.

Payton has been nothing but wonderfully kind to me since I met him six days ago—even when I was up front with him about my unintentional indiscretion of kissing Cole; he was so gracious in understanding, and then when I had to cancel on them last minute, making all his efforts and preparation a complete waste of time and money, Payton was still more than willing to reschedule for tonight, but… I just don’t know if I can handle seeing him and Cole together in their home yet. When he invited me to dinner on Monday, I’ll admit, I was hesitant. Not that I didn’t want to see Cole again; quite the opposite actually. Although seeing him with Payton while knowing what the two of them are to each other and how that now affects me wasn’t something I was keen on putting myself through so soon. I felt like I could’ve used a little more time to accept their relationship and what that relationship means for the possible future of Cole’s and mine. Or rather, what it doesn’t mean.

Ever since I wandered into that redneck haven and ran smack into my past, I can’t deny the attraction I felt towards him years ago, swallowed by grief and unbeknownst to me as it was, and I can’t pretend I don’t still feel it now that I’m able to recognize that same magnetic pull for what it is. Nor can I stop feeling as though I took a misstep somewhere way back when. That I missed the boat. The boat I didn’t know I’d ever even consider boarding. Now though, that ship has left the harbor and I’m here standing on the dock futilely wondering what sailing into the sunset with Cole would’ve been like.

Incredible is my guess. Knowing what kind of partner he was that summer, how responsible, compassionate, and generous in every way he always was, I’m willing to bet happily ever after with Cole would’ve been more than happy; I bet it would’ve been glorious. And let’s not forget what else he most likely has to bring to the table. Even though my personal experience with him on an intimate level is limited, I’d be willing to wager that he’s an outstanding lover.
 

With a sigh, I breathe wistfulness to life in the quickly lowering temperature and I take another step, my mind drifting back to Greg and what I passed up there as well. A life spent with him wouldn’t have been the same as one spent with Cole, of course. Although, in thinking about both men and what my life might’ve been like with either of them, I remind myself of the reason I consciously forewent the opportunity to know what one of those lives would’ve been like. It’s sort of a mute point considering the reality, but Cole was never terribly fond of children so even if he wasn’t gay, he might not have ever wanted any of his own. Greg on the other hand definitely wanted a family, and a life spent tied to the responsibility of being a homemaker and an eventual mother isn’t what I want anymore. I used to, but I was young and idealistic; I know myself better now. It might sound selfish of me, however, I know I’m just not cut out to be the kind of person who can consistently put others before myself and do it with a joyful heart, and ultimately, that’s what it means to be a wife and even more so, a mom.

The truth of those musings gives me courage and helps me to realize that there really isn’t anything I have to worry about, be jealous of, or lose by reconnecting with an old friend while getting to know his life partner better as well. After all, it’s said that gay men make the best allies and friends for women, so if there is actually something to support that belief, wouldn’t having two gay men as BFFs be like hitting the jackpot?

Confidence surges through me in reaching the front door and finally coming to the conclusion that most of the past two days, the whole drive over here, and the last few minutes it’s taken me to climb the damned porch steps have been spent by me being
wholly
ridiculous for over thinking every single thing to tumble through my mind, and, making mountains out of what is in truth, completely flat ground.
 

I go ahead and ring the bell, and I’m trying to not laugh at myself out loud when Cole answers the door…inexplicably covered in a glistening sheen and wearing nothing but surprise on his face and a starfish patterned towel around his waist. Obnoxiously sexy and gratuitously male is the only way I can describe him, and as my body heats while still standing outside in the evening’s darkening chill, I can’t do anything but absorb the changes his body has undergone since the last time I saw it without clothing to hinder my vision.