Moments of Julian (12 page)

“
I think maybe I should
hold you down so you don’t float off,” Julian says as we come to
the end of the 1900’s. From here we naturally flow into a room that
covers the nineteenth century. “You look like you’re in
heaven.”

“
Thank you, Julian,” I say
as I meet his eyes. “I really needed something like this. Something
that isn’t business, something that is just fun. I really
appreciate the effort.”

“
You’re very welcome,” he
says with a small nod of his head. “I hate to even bring it up, but
I felt like I had some apologizing to do and to make up
for.”

I shake my head and mindlessly start
wandering along the closest display. “It’s not really your fault. I
was letting things get too far that night too. You aren’t the only
one who doesn’t always know when to stop.”

“
Even so, I apologize. I’m
not normally so presumptuous,” he says, keeping his voice low, so
as to not be overheard. Not that there are many other people here
on this Friday afternoon. “You could say I’m a little rusty. It’s
been a while since I’ve been on even a single date.”

One more personal bit of
information.

But considering the sweet gesture
Julian extended by bringing me to the one kind of museum I would
enjoy, I find I’m glad he’s sharing.

“
To be honest, it’s been
quite a while since I’ve been on one either,” I admit. I don’t meet
his eyes when I do it, but I’m glad for his close proximity when he
brushes my arm with his anyway.

“
So, can we call this a do
over, from here on out?” Julian asks as we come to the end of the
nineteenth century. I turn and face him and he puts his hand on my
arm. “Sage McCain. Would you do the honor of being my date today,
to see the great city of Toronto?”

I smile and Julian’s hand slides down
my arm until his fingers catch mine. “I would be happy to be your
date, Julian Dohring.”

Julian crooks his arm and I slide mine
through his, and arm-in-arm, we make our way toward the eighteenth
century room.

This is probably my favorite room.
Here we find men’s shoes with heels as high as the women’s. Some
have pointy toes, some have curled tips. There is even one pair
that has a plaque beneath it saying it is made of solid
gold.

“
How could they even walk
in those?” I say as I observe a pair of armor shoes. The point of
them extends a good eight inches past where the toes would
end.

“
That’s a good question,”
Julian comments as he leans in close to observe them. “But I would
not want to be kicked by someone wearing them.”

Through the rest of the museum, we see
pairs of moccasins, detailed and beaded and colorful. We see jester
shoes, curled and huge and a riotous rainbow. We see war shoes,
with blades hidden in them and spikes attached to the
soles.

And I feel like I am on cloud nine
when we finally reach the end of the museum.

“
Are you ready for some
lunch?” Julian asks when we step out the front doors. The rain has
picked up a bit since we walked inside. He lifts the umbrella and
we stand close to stay under cover.

“
I’m still a bit full from
breakfast, but I’d like something to drink,” I say.

Julian is looking at the map on his
phone. “There’s a café just two blocks this way.” He points his
thumb to our left.

I enjoy the excuse to be attached to
Julian so close. I once again hook my arm through his and hug to
his side to avoid the rain. Something about the moisture in the air
makes that signature scent of Julian’s stronger. I am sure that
scent will be locked in my head for a very long time.

Julian orders a sandwich and I get a
green smoothie. We pick a seat by the window so we can watch the
people and the rain.

“
So, how long has it
really been since you’ve been on a date?” I ask as I sip on my
smoothie.

Julian finishes chewing and swallows.
“Um…it’s the middle of June now, and I think the last date I went
on was just before Christmas. So, five and a half
months?”

I laugh and shake my head. “I guess it
would have been four weeks ago if your date for the Digit banquet
hadn’t gotten sick.”

“
True,” he says with a
hesitant smile.

“
That’s really not that
bad though,” I say with shame in my voice. “It’s been since October
of last year for me.”

“
Seriously?” Julian says,
his eyes widening. “What is wrong with the men in your
life?”

I cross my legs under the table and
don’t move my foot when it brushes the side of his leg. “Well, the
last date I went on, as soon as the guy found out who I work for,
obviously expected me to pay for the entire night. Which was fine.
But then things took a turn for the worse and by the end of the
night he called me butch.”

“
Ouch. What a wad,” Julian
says with a disdainful expression.

“
It was worse than it
sounds,” I say, my eyes drifting to the window. Every minute of
that date had gotten worse and worse and so as the night drew on,
so did my attitude. After dinner, I insisted I’d walk myself home.
The pompous jerk was apparently expecting some after dark action,
despite how terribly the date had been going, and said I obviously
must be a lesbian.

“
Needless to say, I was
done for a while,” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest.
“What’s your excuse?”

Julian doesn’t answer right away. He
takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly. His eyes dart up to
my face and I can see indecision in them.

“
We’re on an actual date
now, right? So it’s okay for us to share personal information?” His
expression is hesitant.

“
I just shared something
pretty personal,” I say, not being mean about it. “And I think
that’s one of the things you’re supposed to do when you’re on a
date, yes.”

He sets his sandwich down and brushes
the crumbs off his hands. He then leans forward and crosses his
arms on the table. “My parents died in a carbon monoxide leak New
Year’s Day,” he says, his eyes growing distant and distracted. “The
housekeeper found them the next day and they called me then. I’m an
only child, so everything fell to me to arrange the funeral, deal
with their belongings, sell the house.”

“
Oh, Julian,” I say. I
instantly feel sorry for everything I’ve said in the past five
minutes. My reasons for not dating recently are nothing compared to
his. “I’m so sorry.”

“
Thanks,” he says, his
eyes focusing on mine again. “So, yeah, I ended up staying in New
Mexico for over a month dealing with everything.”

“
Is that where you grew up
then?” I ask.

Julian nods. “My parents adopted me
just after I was born. They’d tried for fifteen years to get
pregnant themselves. Never happened so they decided to adopt and
got me. I guess my birth mother was only like sixteen years old and
the sperm donor wasn’t much older. But things were good with my
parents. It was pretty horrible to hear they died. Takes a while to
get over something like that.”

“
Of course,” I say,
placing a hand on his arm.

Julian suddenly gives a chuckle and a
smile curls on his lips. “See what happens when you go on a real
date with someone? You get the sad story dump.”

I smile back and wrap my hands around
my cup. “It’s kind of nice, actually. It’s been a while since
I…connected with anyone.”

“
What about you, any sad
stories you’d like to share?”

My body locks up in certain places: my
face, my chest, my stomach. But hopefully none of that
shows.

Because my sad story isn’t one that I
will ever share.

“
Nope,” I lie. “I’m just
the daughter of a plumber slash football coach and a stay at home
mom. I’ve got three brothers, one who’s married, one who will be
coming home on leave from the Marine’s in two weeks, and one who’s
a model and lives with me.”

Julian chuckles and shakes his head.
“Well, knowing you’ve got a brother that lives with you is good to
know if we’re going to be dating.”

“
Let’s not get ahead of
ourselves here,” I tease. “I only agreed to one date today. Let’s
not go saying we’re dating.”

Julian winks and bites into his
sandwich again.

Once we are done eating lunch, we head
for what is called The Path. This is an underground shopping mall.
We spend four hours wandering the shops and talking, easy and
relaxed. While we shop, I observe Julian, trying to get a sense for
who he is as a person.

What I learn is that he has impeccable
taste in clothes. He looks through a rack of similar dress coats to
the one he is wearing, his eyes light up at the sight of a suit,
and he buys three ties. But he also likes to dress down in jeans
and a soft t-shirt.

He also seems to love music. Several
times I catch him humming to the music that plays overhead. We pass
a vinyl shop and I can see the longing in his eyes. I ask him
multiple times if he wants to go in, but he just shakes his head
and says it’s okay. He does, however, buy a Nirvana t-shirt from a
shop.

“
So,” I say as we pass by
another vendor trying get us to try out the latest skin care
product. “Did you always know you were adopted?”

It’s a personal question and I’ve
tried to avoid those kind until this point. Maybe it’s the relaxed
day we’ve had, maybe it’s the way I’m enjoying his closeness, but
for some reason I find myself wondering.

Julian nods. “I don’t think I really
understood what it meant or the significance of it until I was at
least twelve, but yeah. I always knew. My parents were always open
about it.”

“
Have you ever met your
birth parents?” I ask as I look over at him. “You said they were
very young.”

“
I’ve never actually
talked to them,” he says. His eyes are distant, contemplative. He
looks beautiful. “But I did look them up my senior year of high
school. My biological dad worked at a water treatment plant. As far
as I could tell, he didn’t have a family or a wife or
anything.”

“
And your mom?” I
encourage when he hesitates. I instantly regret asking. This is
getting too personal and it’s obviously a sensitive topic for
Julian.

“
I looked her up too. She
was married and had two little kids. A boy and a girl,” he says
with a hint of a smile. “They seemed happy.”

I’m not sure what to say. Julian
doesn’t seem sad or regretful, but his countenance is serious,
something I don’t see him as genuinely very often. Do I comfort him
or tell him he was still better off being with his adoptive family?
I’m honestly not sure how to handle this intensely personal
situation.

“
It’s weird to think I
technically have two half siblings out there somewhere when I grew
up as an only child,” he says and suddenly he has a smile on his
face. “Not that I minded. I was spoiled.”

He chuckles and I am relieved when the
mood lightens.

“
I’ve got one more stop
I’d like to make now that it is getting dark,” Julian says as we
head back up to street level. We catch a cab and drive a few
minutes.

The air has grown cool and moist when
we step out. The moon is full and looms huge and bright in the
sky.

I look up and up, to the top of the CN
tower.

“
Up we go,” Julian says as
he offers me his arm once again. I take it and together we go
inside.

Despite the fact that it is a Friday
night, it is fairly quiet. As we step into the glass elevator, we
are the only ones. We start the ascent to the observation
deck.

“
This is beautiful,” I say
as we rise. I look out over the city. Lights glitter in every
direction, except the darkness of Lake Ontario. I have the slight
feeling that I am drifting out into space through the darkness,
with only the twinkle of the stars to light the way.

Julian’s hands touch my sides, and
hesitantly, giving me the option to step away, slides them around
until his arms are wrapped around my waist.

But I don’t step away. I smile to the
glass in front of me and place my hands over his.

When the doors finally open, we turn
to leave, and I slide my hand into Julian’s.

We wander slowly, taking in the view,
my hand in his. Finally, we come to an area that is devoid of any
other life. Julian circles me to stand in front of him, keeping my
right hand in his left. He slips his other hand to my back and
guides my hand to his shoulder.

“
Would you dance with me?”
he whispers quietly in my ear. Without waiting for my response, he
slides his left foot forward, leading my right back.

Julian holds me close as he leads me
through a rumba basic step, and then an underarm turn. His hand
comes once again to my back, and hugs me tight. My chest brushes
his and the scuff of his face scratches my cheek.

It is a feeling that I
like.

Julian does a turn, and suddenly he is
behind me. He places a hand on my stomach, the other still holding
my hand out to the side. His feet lead me to step forward and then
side, side, my steps mirroring his.