Chapter 7
7
A pattern began to form over the next few weeks as spring gave way to the humid, sultry months of summer. Peter and I rarely crossed paths at work. He traveled a lot, and my new project kept me busy. During the week, we usually found a way to spend time together. But more and more often we began to see each other at least one day over the weekend as well.
Most of the time it was a Friday night. We would have dinner together, sleep together, and spend Saturday morning doing something. Usually it was exercise of some sort. A trip to the gym or a game of tennis. We even went back out to the river to try kayaking again, and I managed to pull my weight paddling without injuring my partner and capsizing our boat.
Peter always seemed to have new ideas of things to do. One morning, he decided I needed to make amends for my atrocious coffee-making, though he hadn’t had a sip of my less than savory brew in a while. I knew it was a ruse to get me to do something he knew I probably wasn’t excited to try.
“I’ll let you make it up to me.”
“Oh really? What did you have in mind?
“Something physical.” His eyes were twinkling playfully. “But not what your dirty mind is thinking.”
“And what is my dirty mind thinking?”
“Sex, sex, sex. Am I wrong?”
I put on my best “let me think about it” face as though I were quietly considering his question.
“No, you’re correct,” I conceded.
Peter laughed out loud. He stood suddenly and pulled me to my feet in one graceful motion. I stepped into his arms, holding him in a light embrace around his middle. He sighed heavily before wrapping his arms around me tightly, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. I pushed away from him and gave him an evil glare.
“Have you ever gone rock climbing?” he asked conversationally.
“Huh?”
“Rock climbing. You know, like at a gym that’s specifically for that purpose.”
“And that purpose would be for… rock climbing?”
“Yeah!”
We considered each other quietly while I wordlessly told him I had never done such a thing nor was I particularly interested.
“It’s fun.” He gave me a lopsided grin, which should have warned me that a challenge was about to be issued.
“I’m sure. Well, have fun, then.” I turned away from him and headed back toward my kitchen, making a big production of washing my hands.
“We will. Come on, chicken. You can do it,” he taunted.
“Chicken? Did you really just call me a chicken?” He nodded, still grinning like a madman. “How old are you again?”
“Hmm. Classic sign of avoidance is changing the topic. I guess that’s my answer,” he singsonged.
“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m simply pointing out that name calling is a tad immature.”
“I apologize. I’ll rephrase my subtle inquiry into a direct inquiry. Better?”
“What’s with you and your fixation with all things grammatical?” I put my hand on my hip indignantly.
“Evasive. See? But let me address your point quickly. Grammar and flow are important when you are trying to convey a message. Particularly when said message is attached to eight-digit dollar signs. Capisce ?”
“So you’re saying I don’t get my point across clearly?”
“Not at all. I’m just asking if you’d like to go rock climbing.”
We’d come full circle. At least I thought we had. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what our verbal sparring had accomplished other than me agreeing to do something I’d never tried outside of my seven-year-old nephew’s birthday party at one of those bouncy warehouse places with the miniature wall for the super beginner set. I had an uneasy feeling the wall would be a fuck of a lot taller where Peter wanted us to go.
Of course I went, and it was scary at first but more than anything, it was fun. We laughed the entire afternoon. I looked ridiculous in the safety gear get-up and even more ridiculous when I fell time and time again. Thank goodness the walls were padded because I wouldn’t have survived climbing actual rocks out in the open.
On the drive back to my place later that day I stole a glance at my smiling companion. He was wearing a silly grin on his sinfully handsome face. It was the same grin he’d sported all day. He caught me staring and asked what was on my mind.
“That was fun. Thanks.”
Peter’s eyes twinkled, and his smile widened. He was obviously quite pleased with my admission. He didn’t say anything at first. He just picked up my hand and kissed my palm before twining our fingers together, resting them between our seats. We held hands all the way home. That was when I knew my fall was imminent.
My friends began to notice something was up. They would throw out the occasional teasing word or two about wanting to meet my new beau, but Aaron was the one who delved a little deeper. He was worried, and he had no qualms letting me know how he felt.
Aaron was at my place early one Sunday morning trying to drag me out for a run before the heat made outdoor exercise close to unbearable. My cell phone rang just as I finished tying my shoes. It was Peter.
We had spent Friday night and most of the day Saturday together. It was unexpected for him to call again so soon… but not unwelcome. I know I had a stupid smile on my face when I answered my phone. And it was probably even bigger and more idiotic-looking when I hung up. He was just calling to say hello and let me know he was leaving on a business trip that afternoon. He said he’d call me when he got home midweek.
“I’m ready!” I set my phone down and flashed a bright grin at my friend.
Aaron leaned against the island with his arms crossed over his chest. He obviously had something to say.
“Let’s go. I know you’re dying to grill me. We may as well get our run in while you’re at it.”
My normally chatty friend didn’t say a word, which should have alerted me that trouble was brewing. As we stood outside stretching, I filled the silence with silly observances about the weather and my neighbors’ flowerbeds. I began to go on about the lack of parking on my street as we started a slow pace in the direction of Rock Creek Park, but Aaron took over.
“Cool it, Jaybird. I don’t give a shit about the parking. Tell me what’s going on with your part-time lover.”
“You care plenty when you can’t find a place to park!” I stalled, hoping to infuse the discussion with a dose of levity.
Aaron shot me his best “quit the bullshit” look, and I felt more than a little sorry for the worry I saw there too. He was my closest friend and confidant. I had plenty of other friends, many I’d known a lot longer than Aaron. But he was special to me.
We looked out for each other and seemed to understand the other seamlessly. He didn’t get this arrangement or quasi-relationship I had with Peter, though. I knew his eyes were clouded with concern under his classic Ray-Ban sunglasses.
“What do you want to know?” I sighed deeply and vowed to concentrate on my breathing. Aaron was a true runner, not a “sometimes for exercise if I don’t feel like going to the gym” type like me. That meant he could talk, run, and not be winded in the slightest. If he really felt the need to lecture me, I’d be in trouble.
“Just tell me what’s going on. I saw your sappy smile when he called you this morning, and I’ve noticed some… I don’t know… changes since you’ve started seeing him, and I?—”
“What do you mean? What kind of changes?” I interrupted. I tried to think if I’d been acting peculiar lately.
“You’re falling for him, Jay. And that worries me.”
I sputtered and started to deny it, but what was the point? He was right. I was falling for Peter Morgan.
“Look… Jay, I’m your best friend and I care that…. I don’t want to see you get hurt, honey. That’s all.”
“I know. I… I really like him. He’s got this carefree fun side that no one we work with would have the slightest clue about. And I….”
“That’s just it. Honey, you work together, whether or not you’re physically working on a project. And let me clarify that I mean in the office not the bedroom.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Jay, it was one thing when it was sex only, but this is turning into more than that. At least on your side. Where do you see this going?”
It was a good question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, which was unusual for me. The truth was that I had gotten used to letting Peter set the pace. I’d been going along with what he was comfortable giving, possibly to the extent that I hadn’t thought about my own concerns. That was not like me in the slightest. No wonder Aaron was worried. I cast a look in his direction as we continued jogging along L Street toward the park.
“I don’t know, A. But I don’t think I’m ready to confront him about his intentions either.”
“Intentions? Jay, at the risk of pissing you off, I’m going to be frank here. His intentions are to get laid on a regular basis. Period. He is smokin’ hot, and if you’re out for the same thing… namely sex, then there is no problem. But you’re starting to get all moony about how he’s showing you a side he doesn’t show anyone else, and that’s?—”
He stopped abruptly and pulled gently at my arm so I would do the same.
“Jay, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to be a downer. I want you to enjoy your hunky boss, but I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I took a deep breath and looked away from him for a moment. When I turned back he’d pulled his sunglasses down to give me a goofy-eyed stare and break the tension. I chuckled at his antics as we both slipped back into running mode, leaving unpleasant thoughts behind. But the seed was sown. He was right and I knew it. Peter wasn’t boyfriend material. He seemed perfectly capable of filling that role, but something was stopping him.
Peter was away on business that entire following week. At the last minute he was called to assist on another project based on the West Coast. He sounded down when he called to tell me about it and asked if I was free Sunday. He was flying in on a red-eye and would land early that morning.
I remembered Aaron’s words of warning, but I shrugged them aside and told Peter to call me when he got in. When I hung up the phone I vacillated between being excited to see my lover and a little worried at my reaction. Aaron was right. I had it bad.
When I opened my door to him Sunday morning, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted. I was sure the fact that he made an effort to come see me right away had to be promising. I set aside my inner turmoil and lunged into his arms. I wanted to play it cool, but I couldn’t seem to do it. Peter squeezed me in a tight embrace before nudging my nose and licking my lips in request for entry. His kiss was passionate and hungry.
“Upstairs. I need you, baby.”
I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. What more was there to say really? Our lovemaking was passionate and charged with an energy I couldn’t quite place. As though we were speaking through the physical connection we shared. I didn’t know the language, but I sensed the meaning was important.
He entered me slowly and stared longingly into my eyes, breaking the contact only when his struggle for control made him tremble as he held himself above me. When he came, it was with a force that shook us both. He held on to me, shaking in my arms as though I were his lifeline. Something was shifting and changing here. There’s no way I was the only one to feel it.
Peter fell asleep in my bed. I watched him lying there peacefully for a while. The lines of stress and tension from his never-ending travels seemed to have melted away, leaving him relaxed in an almost childlike slumber. He was always extraordinarily handsome, but he carried a mantle of responsibility and authority that set him apart, making him inaccessible to the rest of us lowly beings. In sleep he was just a man. A beautiful man, but one with the same worries, hopes, and dreams as the rest of us.
Or was that wishful thinking on my part? Deciding psychoanalysis really wasn’t my forte, I rolled out of bed quietly and left him in my bed to rest.
An hour and a half later I heard the tread of bare feet on stairs. I was tucked into my favorite comfy armchair, reading a book with my long legs curled under me. I looked up to find Peter standing in the doorway, sleep still in his eyes and a crease on his cheek from the pillow. He looked adorable. For the second time in one day, I would have said there was a boyish quality about him. I offered him a smile in greeting and held out a hand for him.
“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep.” He wore a look of chagrin as he entwined his fingers in mine for a moment before perching his hot self on the coffee table near my chair.
“Well, you were obviously exhausted. And I didn’t mind.”
I turned it over in my head to see if I was being honest and decided I really didn’t mind him falling asleep on me even though we hadn’t spent time together in a week. If anything, there was a part of me that enjoyed the unspoken intimacy of Peter feeling safe enough to fall asleep in a bed that wasn’t his own. It was a dangerous train of thought and surely one that was bound to disappoint, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Are you hungry? I’d offer to make you coffee but….”
“Please don’t.” Peter gave me a sweet, teasing smile. “I am hungry, though. I think it’s my turn to make you something. Want to go back over to my place? I’ll make you dinner.”
There was an almost bashful look in his eye as though my answer mattered more than he was letting on.
“Yes. That sounds great, but it’s barely ten in the morning. Isn’t it a little early to think about dinner?”
“Maybe. But I’m thinking authentic Italiano. Homemade pasta, the works. To do it right, I’ll need fresh ingredients.” He stood up as he warmed to his topic. “Let’s go over to the farmers’ market. We’ll grab some fresh produce, cheeses, and whatnot, and a cup of coffee for me. What do you say?”
What could I say? Peter was brimming with enthusiasm over the very idea of making me dinner. I was charmed.
The farmers’ market was an easy walk from my house in Dupont. I grilled him all the way there about his culinary aptitude. I was an unrepentant foodie. My coffee-making skills might be questionable, but I enjoyed food. Cooking was something I loved to do, but it went beyond the time I spent in the kitchen. I enjoyed the full experience. I like to know where my ingredients are from, what regions offer better produce and meats, and how different people view food from a cultural standpoint. Once I was able to set aside my excitement that Peter wanted to cook for me, I was curious about his interest.
“When did you learn how to cook? Did your mom teach you? You said she’s a great cook. Does she bake too? Do you bake? What’s your favorite dish?”
Peter humored me good-naturedly. In fact, I noticed him visibly relax as he told me about growing up with an Italian mother who spent every free moment in the kitchen.
“My sister and I both learned to cook early… I have memories of being five or six, peeling onions and learning to chop peppers. I think for my mom it was her connection to her home in Italy. Cooking kept her from being homesick.” Peter had a faraway look in his eyes as though he’d traveled back in time in his head thinking about his childhood. The moment passed and he flashed me a heart-stopping grin. “I have to warn you, I’m nowhere near as skilled in the kitchen as my mother or my sister… or you probably, but I have a couple of signature dishes that are pretty damn tasty if I do say so myself. No baking, though. The last time I tried that I was nine.”
He regaled me with a story from his childhood when his sister Maggie and he begged his mother to make their favorite cannoli. She was busy but promised she would do it later. They wouldn’t take no for an answer and told her they would start the recipe for her.
“I asked her what I needed, and when she told me, I ran back to the kitchen to tell Maggie, who then set it out for her on the counter. I went back and forth at least five times and on my last trip Maggie had pulled out the bin of flour too fast and it fell. The floor, the counter, well… everything looked like a snowstorm had hit. She burst into tears and I got mad at her. Naturally, that’s when Mom came to see what had happened.”
Peter stopped on the street corner in front of the farmers’ market and pulled his sunglasses down so I could see the glint of humor in his dark eyes.
“The look on her face when she saw the mess we’d made was priceless. She yelled at us in Italian to clean it up and gave us five minutes to make it perfect. She walked out of the kitchen, I grabbed the flour bin and tried to take the top off, but it had never been sealed properly after Maggie dropped it the first time. Plus I’d done it so fast that the whole thing exploded all over me. It was in my hair, in my eyes… everywhere. My mom ran back in the room, and by then I was in tears, thinking I was in for it. I heard this huge gasp and then nothing. Then I opened my eyes and saw my mom crying. I was freaked out for a minute… and I mean freaked out… until I realized she was laughing. Hysterically laughing.”
He set his glasses back on his nose and looked out into the market area, indicating that the story was over.
“I loved to hear her laugh. I hated it when she was unhappy.”
Peter must have heard the wistfulness in his own voice at his last statement. He gave me a lopsided grin and all at once the boyish sweet quality was back. I felt as though I had gotten my strongest glimpse yet of the real Peter Morgan. I wondered about his relationship with his parents and his mother in particular.
It was clear that his family was important to him, but I got the feeling things were, in his words, complicated. I wondered if it had something to do with his sexuality or what the true story was. But I wasn’t going to rock the boat this morning. He was happy, and I didn’t want to bring up anything that might upset the sunny Sunday morning mood. I returned his smile and gestured for him to lead the way into the market area.
The farmers’ market was packed. It was always a popular destination, so when I planned on going I would usually make a point of getting there early to beat the crowds. There were people everywhere taking in a gorgeous, albeit humid, summer morning. Fresh produce, flowers, meats, and breads from various local farms were piled high for as far as the eye could see.
As an avid shopper, I was in instant heaven. The beautiful displays and brightly colored fresh goods seemed to call my name. I pulled Peter from table to table like an overly excited child until he finally stopped me and gave me a basket and a list of very specific items he needed for his recipe.
Armed with a purpose, I was soon in danger of dislocating my shoulder due to the weight of the basket I was carting. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Hey! If you buy more than we’ll use, it will just go to waste. There’s just the two of us, babe.”
“I know, but I can’t hel—” I stopped abruptly when I saw a familiar face amongst my fellow produce shoppers. “Isn’t that your friend Kelly?”
It was a rhetorical question. Kelly was in fact walking in our direction with another man, but it wasn’t her husband. This guy was tall, dark, and to die for. He was extraordinarily handsome, on par with the man I was standing next to. When they faced us straight on, I knew he had to be related to Kelly. They shared the same coloring and fine bone structure. Even something in the way they moved pegged them as somehow belonging together. Siblings? Cousins?
I turned to Peter to ask that very question, but something in his expression had changed. He was guarded now. Weird. I thought Kelly was his best friend.
Kelly spotted us first. Her whole face lit up in a welcoming smile as she made her way over to greet us.
“Well hello, strangers! Have you dried out yet, boys?” She kissed Peter on the cheek first and then gave me a teasing wink.
“Ha-ha. I’ll have you know I’ve been practicing like a madman. I vow never to entertain you by falling in the river again! I’ll find a less uncomfortable way, I’m sure.”
Kelly threw her head back and laughed out loud. She was lovely. There really wasn’t another word for it. Her raven hair was tied back in a casual ponytail that she managed to make look like high fashion. She was dressed in shorts and a tank top in deference to the weather, but she had tied a fashionable scarf around her designer wicker handbag, and her sunglasses and even flip-flops were Prada. However, it was her kind smile and friendly manner that made her truly beautiful.
My eyes wandered to the hunky man standing next to her. I was practically vibrating with curiosity. He was my height easily but much broader across his shoulders and chest than I was. His dark hair was longish and wavy. It looked good on him.
He was dressed in shorts and a tank T-shirt, which emphasized his generous muscles and showed off the gorgeous tattoos on his left bicep. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses. Maybe the glare from the sun would make it a little less obvious that I was staring shamelessly.
“So… what are you two up to today? Jack and I were just…. Oh shoot! Jay, I’m sorry! Let me introduce you to my brother, Jack. Jack, this is Peter’s friend, Jay.”
Jack.
So this was Jack. Jack was Kelly’s brother? Jack was Peter’s former long-term lover? Jack must also be his business partner. I remembered Peter saying he owned the club with Kelly, her husband, and her brother. And Jack was… well, gorgeous. Peter hadn’t mentioned that.
Jack held out his hand, and I took it, remembering my social graces at the very last second. He was older than me for sure, and I would bet he was a few years older than Peter as well. Jack turned his attention directly to Peter.
“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a while. Still traveling a ton?”
“Yes. How’s Shane?” Peter’s voice was coolly friendly, like he cared but didn’t want too much information.
“Good. We were hoping you’d come to our barbecue a few weeks ago….”
“Next time.” Peter gave him a smile that I knew didn’t reach his eyes. Of course I couldn’t tell with his sunglasses on, but I’d bet money I was right.
“Right. You know the sale is due to be finalized in the next couple of weeks, and I was?—”
“Later, Jack,” Peter interrupted him. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Jack stared at Peter for a strained moment. I had no idea what was passing between them. It wasn’t unfriendly per se, but it was private, and it was frustrating to know I was the only one of the four of us standing in the crowded market who was completely in the dark. I felt like an interloper… awkward but unable to get out of the way gracefully even if I were inclined to do so.
“It was great to see you again, Jay. Let’s try another outing again soon. Bungee jumping, rock climbing? Your pick.” Kelly’s smile was kind and contagious in spite of her outrageous teasing. I appreciated that she made the effort to move past the odd mood her brother and Peter had imposed.
“Yes, let’s definitely go for something a little more challenging. If I don’t end up flattened or impaled on a rock, we’ll call it a success.”
Kelly laughed at my attempt at humor and kissed my cheek.
“Come on, Jack. I told Kev I’d be back by noon. I need to get a move on.” She hugged Peter and whispered something in his ear.
“Good to meet you, Jay. Bye, Peter.” Jack ran a familiar hand down Peter’s arm, squeezing his hand as he turned to walk away.
Peter and I both stood staring after them for a moment longer than normal, before I lightly nudged him in the stomach with my elbow. I gave him a weak grin, hoping to find him in a decent frame of mind. He gave me a reciprocal upturn of the lips and gestured for me to follow him. So much for our pleasant Sunday morning market experience. I didn’t know Jack, but already I was sure I didn’t like him.
It is a well-known fact among those who know me that I am a nervous talker. I have always hated stilted uncomfortable silences and over the years, I’d become a master at filling the void, as it were. Peter listened patiently to me as I launched into a story about buying bad fish years ago and the unfortunate results. I embellished the tale a little, thinking for a moment that Rebecca would appreciate my story, because I could tell it was falling a little short with my companion.
His gorgeous self may have been walking beside me, nodding every once in a while in acknowledgment, but his head was obviously elsewhere. Probably with Jack. I fought back the crushing wave of disappointment I could feel trying to envelop me. I could make it to my house without breaking down. In the meantime, I would talk.
“So then I said to the guy who sold me….”
Peter stopped suddenly on the street in front of my place and put his hand over my mouth. He looked into my eyes intently without speaking and then removed his hand before lightly brushing his lips over mine. I swallowed hard, not sure what he was trying to convey. Hello? Good-bye? My inability to read him now that he was back in a controlled mode frustrated me to no end.
“I can tell you have questions….”
“Really? How?”
Peter chuckled softly and looked away from me at some unknown point in the distance.
“Let’s get your stuff together and head over to my house. If I’m going to make homemade pasta, we need to get a move on.”
“You sure you want me to come? I mean, it’s cool if you need….”
“Jay. Nothing changed because we ran into Jack and Kelly. Nothing. And I want”—he shook his head in frustration before turning back to me—“a lot of things, I guess. Look, I’ll answer whatever questions you have.” He shrugged as if that really was all there was to say. The rest was up to me.
I nodded in agreement and led the way toward my front door.
We were at Peter’s house within fifteen minutes, schlepping our fresh produce, meats, and cheese purchases into his awesome kitchen. Peter let me do the bulk of the talking as usual, but his head seemed back with me now as he answered my questions about what type of noodle he wanted to make and whether or not his pasta was made with egg or just olive oil. He warmed to the topic at hand, which I figured meant he really was interested in doing a little cooking with me on a scorching sunny day in the middle of summer.
“Do you want to put everything away for now and go do something outdoors? I mean, it’s a beautiful day and….”
Peter just smiled, and this time it reached it his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Jay? You think I’m all talk, don’t you? You’re probably thinking I can barely boil water for store-bought pasta let alone make it from scratch. Admit it,” he teased.
“Well….” I loved his playful side and was so relieved to see it back that I abandoned any inane suggestions I was thinking about doing something that would just leave us hot and sweaty in a less than fun, sexy way.
“Just follow the master’s instruction, Padawan. You’ll soon learn to make fresh pasta too.” He winked and lunged away from my attack.
“I never would have pegged you for a Star Wars geek,” I observed as I set out the ingredients he said he required for his recipe.
“I am.” Peter’s eyes lit with unabashed humor. He obviously was a big fan. “I’m a Trekkie too.”
“Oh boy.” I rolled my eyes and neatly dodged the carrot he threw at my head. “It’s got to be the uniforms. Is that it? Did you lust after Captain Kirk as a boy?”
“I know I’m older than you, but I’m not that old,” he countered as he placed flour, eggs, and olive oil on his massive kitchen island. He used the small island sink to wash his hands and looked up to give me a bashful grin as he continued his Trekkie conversation.
“I loved The Next Generation . I don’t think ‘lust after’ is quite the right phrase, but I definitely thought Captain Picard was hot.”
“Wasn’t he the old bald guy?” I sat down on the kitchen stool across from him as I tried to even remember the old television episodes. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn Peter blushed.
“He was hot.”
I laughed out loud, thoroughly charmed by Peter’s boyhood crush on the much older Star Trek captain and the fact that he was sharing it at all with me.
“So basically you’re into older guys?” I teased.
“At one point in my life… yes. I was.”
I looked up at him and cocked my head to the side in question, hoping he would continue. His tone had changed. I wondered if he was ready to start talking about Jack, who I could tell from our earlier meeting was older than Peter. I wondered if it was something I should bring up at all or let him share in his own time.
“Jack was older than you, right?”
Damn it! I did it again. I felt my cheeks redden and hoped I hadn’t killed our easygoing vibe. A chance look up a Peter told me he was amused, not angry or worse… sad.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to get him to talk about his past. I’d been warned about shit like this, though. If you have a present lover who never got over a past lover, forget about him. It’s not healthy to compete with other people’s ghosts. It made complete sense. There was something more here than Peter not being over Jack, though. In fact, I didn’t think that was true at all. He hadn’t seemed melancholy when we ran into him earlier. It was something else I couldn’t quite place.
“You’re doing that thing where you’re thinking so hard I can practically hear you.” Peter had a mound of flour in front of him. He was in the process of making a second one when he motioned for me to join him. “Wash your hands and then come get dirty with me. I promise you that there really isn’t much to tell, but I’ll answer whatever it is you want to know about the elephant in the room.”
I rinsed my hands, thinking to myself that “elephant in the room” was an interesting choice of words.
“Okay, tell me about him. About you both. He is damn hot by the way. I totally get it. Where did you meet? How old were you? Is he way older? He looks older but not significantly so, you know?”
Peter’s hands were full of the flour, egg white, and olive oil mess when he looked at me sideways. His hair had grown a little longer recently, and it fell into his dark, piercing eyes. He sighed deeply and turned his gaze back to the pasta mixture. He spoke quickly with a somewhat bored tone as though the story he was going to tell was not interesting in the slightest.
“Jay, honestly it was a lifetime ago, but you are nothing if not persistent.” He sighed. “Kelly and I met in junior high. I think I told you that. We were just friends. She was the prettiest girl in the class by far, and all the boys were after her. We were at that awkward age when you give a shit about what everyone else thinks. You want to be cool or at the very least, you want to stay under the radar to avoid getting bullied. Anyway, I decided that since she was pretty and everyone agreed that she was, we should ‘go out.’ Remember this was junior high.” Peter chuckled at the memory. “I really don’t think I was truly aware that I preferred guys at that point. I was slow in that sense, but Kelly wouldn’t have anything to do with me anyway, so I had to get more aggressive in my tactics. I called her house all the time. I followed her home from school. She blew me off. This went on for a month or so, until one day I called and a male voice answered and told me Kelly was expecting me and I should come on by after school the next day. I smiled at her extra hard the next day, but she ignored me as usual. I tried to walk her home, but she ran away. I would have truly given up if I hadn’t basically been invited to her house. So I went as promised.”
Peter set his dough aside and took mine from me.
“Wash your hands and open us a bottle of something cold, babe. All this talkin’ is making me thirsty.”
I did as he asked, noticing his strong southern drawl was back. Wisely, I refrained from saying anything.
“I knocked on the door and her big brother, Jack, opened it. Jack was five years older than us, so at eighteen he was pretty damn intimidating to my thirteen-year-old self. Not to mention the fact that he was fully grown while I had yet to fully hit puberty. He probably had me by eighteen inches. He looked down at me and told me to stay the fuck away from his baby sister or he’d kick my ass. I was surprised. No one had ever talked to me like that before, and I didn’t think I was harassing her but his size alone made me reconsider doing anything but exactly what he said. I turned tail and ran like a jackrabbit. The next day at school, I asked Kelly as politely as possible why her brother threatened me, and she told me ‘Peter, you’re a bully, and you won’t leave me alone.’ I was shocked. I apologized and asked if we could be friends. We have been ever since.”
The room fell silent as I waited for him to continue to the part about Jack and their relationship. I took a sip of the chardonnay I’d poured for us and waited patiently. Peter laughed at the expression on my face. I guessed my attempt at patience wasn’t what I hoped.
“Jack left for college soon after, and I honestly never saw much of him during our high school years. When I came home from college after my first semester away, I knew I wasn’t the same guy I was when I left. I had been with men… sexually and knew that’s who I was. I didn’t know how to come out really, but I couldn’t keep it to myself either. So I told my best friend who shrugged her shoulders like it was no big fuckin’ deal because didn’t I know her brother Jack was gay too, as if that alone made my own revelation somewhat anticlimactic. Of course I didn’t know Jack was gay. I couldn’t believe it. Jack was so masculine, and I admit I was young and dumb enough to stereotype what I thought other gay men were like. I was an athlete. I was masculine. Hell, no one knew from looking at me that I preferred men. But I was sure I was an anomaly. And Jack was… well, I had steered clear of him since he’d warned me away from Kelly all those years before. The next time I saw him, I….” Peter chuckled at a long ago memory, his gaze fixed on the dough in front of him. “I basically came on to him and once again, he put me in my place. I was a puppy, a baby, and he was not interested. I had a crush on him all through college. I rarely saw him, but I never stopped thinking of him.
“During my college years, I began to figure out that the gay part of me was absolutely the real part and I stopped even pretending to be interested in girls. But I didn’t come out to my family until I was about to leave Georgia for good and move here.”
Peter moved to the sink to wash his hands. He paused to take a sip of the wine I’d poured him earlier and sighed. He bit his bottom lip thoughtfully before he moved away from the island and pulled a pasta cutter from a nearby cabinet.
“My mother is Italian and Roman Catholic. Let’s just say that my coming out wasn’t met with a ‘good for you, son’ pat on the back. My parents were surprised. My dad asked a couple of ‘are you sure?’ questions.” Peter stopped to wink at me, letting me know he thought it was interesting that had been one of my questions for him. “But he was relatively cool about it. My mom, on the other hand… she was upset.” He gave a humorless half laugh. “Actually, it’s more accurate to say she went ballistic. She said I had to be confused. She was sure Kelly was the girl for me. We were perfect for each other. I was always with her and maybe I needed to tell Kel my feelings to move things along. I tried to calmly tell her that she was wrong. Kelly and I were friends only. I assured her I wasn’t confused and that this wasn’t something that was going away. Her response was—” Peter paused and looked over at me. “—that I was no longer welcome in her home.”
“Fuck. Peter, I’m sorry.” I set my wineglass down wanting to offer comfort, but the man in front of me didn’t want or need my sympathy. His eyes were hard; however, I understood that it wasn’t me he was angry at. It was a painful memory. One he visibly tried to shake off, if I was reading his body language correctly.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. But I won’t deny it was a difficult time. I can’t tell you all the bullshit I’ve had to hear over the years about my despicable behavior and how I could no longer be a part of the church so my soul was damned. The worst part about all of the coming out to my family bullshit was that… it fractured us. We’ve never been the same as a family since.” He shrugged helplessly.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and I wasn’t sure if I should prod him to continue or leave it be. I had asked him months ago about his coming out, and he made it sound like a nonevent. Obviously that wasn’t true. The water was murky and ran deep here.
“The church was such a large part of our lives growing up. When my mom left Italy to come to the States, she always said it didn’t matter where she lived because she had the Lord.”
“Huh?”
“Well, it made more sense in Italian maybe but the gist was that her God and her church come first. Even before family.” Peter stepped back and turned away to rinse his hands again. When he faced me, he leaned against the counter drying his hands methodically. He must have seen the sadness in my eyes. “Hey. Don’t feel sorry for me. It was a long time ago, and I’ll never be close to my parents again. It is what it is. Over the years, we’ve learned how to dance around who I am. My mom asks me about work and brags about her son the lobbyist to her friends. She even occasionally tries to set me up with nice young women she knows from church too,” Peter said wryly.
“So she doesn’t acknowledge that you’re gay.”
“Bingo. It’s easier to leave it for the sake of peace. And that’s why Jack and I were never going to make it.”
He picked up his glass, took a sip, and moved back over to the dough declaring it was time to shape the dough into noodles.
“Hold on. What about Jack?”
Those were two separate stories, right? Was he seriously going to stop there? I saw his eyes twinkle with humor as he lightly floured the pasta machine.
“Geez, Jay! Fine…. The story in a nutshell is that Jack and I were together roughly from the time I was twenty-two till I turned twenty-seven. We’ve been over for five years. We are friends still. Shane is his partner now, and I think they’re happy. The end.”
That was not all. I knew it. Just as I knew that somehow the real story had to have something to do with the one he’d just told about his fractured relationship with his parents and his mom in particular. A small voice warned me to let it go, but of course, I couldn’t.
“You said, ‘That’s why Jack and I were never going to make it.’ What did you mean by that? I swear I won’t ask any more questions. I get that’s your past and you’ve moved on, but….”
“You’re curious,” he finished for me with a half-grin. I nodded, passing the dough through the pasta machine, hoping he would answer. Peter sighed dramatically and cocked an eyebrow at me. He was back to being playful, and I was inordinately pleased in spite of a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Jack and I weren’t exclusive. Ever. In the beginning, that’s how he wanted it. At the end, that’s how I wanted it. Basically, he hit thirty-two and decided it was time to settle down. He wanted me to travel less and for us to make an effort at having a more traditional relationship.” He paused as if looking for the right words. “I didn’t want that. I still don’t.”
I gave a wan smile in response, though my heart sank a little at his words. I wanted to ask why, but I was too afraid of what his answer meant for me. I thought again of Aaron’s warning to me. I was in too deep. Peter obviously didn’t reciprocate my feelings. We were having sex. That’s all. That’s what we agreed to. For my own sanity, I bit the inside of my cheek hard and sternly told myself to cease and desist all lines of questioning and take what was on offer. If I asked for more, I would only be setting myself up for disappointment.
However, in that moment, standing side by side in Peter’s kitchen with the ghost of his mother’s rejection and his old lover’s unrequited hopes for a future, I felt cheated. Unfairly so. I knew there was more between Peter and I than he credited. I felt a wave of anger, helplessness, and sadness at the forces that would seemingly always keep him from true happiness, whether it was with me or Jack or whomever.
Peter was a quandary. He was a passionate lover and a fierce competitor in and away from the office. But he was also funny with a sweet boyish side that few people saw. I knew I was one of the few, and it seemed unfair that my status in his life was “friend with benefits” or more crudely put “his fuck buddy.” Was I really okay with that?
No wonder I had decided I didn’t like Jack. I had a sinking feeling we had a lot in common. And if a guy like Jack, who shared a history with Peter, couldn’t break through the walls he’d erected, why would I ever assume I could?