Chapter 6 #2
“Tell me again why we’re doing this.” Josh grinned, but beneath the grin, I bet there was a little annoyance lurking.
We’d been together now for several months.
I could honestly say all had been going well.
I was thrilled to have someone to snuggle up next to as the nights grew colder.
Fall was here and winter was nipping at its heels.
But the one thing I grew a little tired of was the fact that it was always just us.
Josh seemed to have no friends. He occasionally mentioned an acquaintance from work or a college roommate he’d connected with on social media, but in all our time together, I’d yet to meet even one single friend of his.
I thought that was odd, but I’d never admit that to him.
I didn’t want to shame or embarrass him.
The fact that he was pressuring me to move in with him made me even more on edge.
“Because it’ll be good, maybe, to have another couple to hang out with and they seemed nice.”
I had to practically drag Josh out last weekend to Big Chicks.
He initially agreed to go on Saturday afternoon, but as the evening wore on, I noticed he was dragging his feet—pouring me a third glass of red wine after we’d finished our Giordano’s stuffed pizza, starting a movie he said was his favorite on Prime.
“Really? Fatal Attraction?” I’d asked. “I’ve seen it before and I know you have. ”
He was agonizingly slow getting dressed.
We ended up not getting on the L at Jarvis until after ten.
By then, I was feeling frustrated, yet determined to not let him control this narrative.
I didn’t say it, but thought we were spending too much time alone together.
He was wonderful, thoughtful, kind, and sexy as hell, but I wanted us to know other people, to have conversations about things outside Josh’s and my little bubble.
The memory of Zoom meetings and isolation during COVID were still fresh; I never wanted to experience that kind of separation again, even if I felt that Josh wouldn’t mind.
Once we’d gotten to Big Chicks, he at last relaxed, after a beer. They played a lot of his favorite music that night, alternative stuff from the 1990s, like Liz Phair, REM, the Cranberries, and Radiohead. The crowd was lively, but chill.
We sat at the bar.
It was around midnight when we met Michael and Dan.
The seats next to us vacated and they slid right in, all smiles.
Michael was the more outgoing of the pair and he and I clicked pretty much immediately.
He had prematurely gray hair, hazel eyes, and a lean build.
He could have been the love child of Richard Gere and Anderson Cooper.
I admit I was attracted, not just to his looks, but also to his friendly demeanor.
“Hope you guys don’t mind us crowding you a little.” Michael grinned and raised a hand to the bartender. He ordered for both of them—a gin and tonic for him and a Stella for Dan, who lurked silently beside him. Dan was stocky, with brownish-blond hair, brown eyes, and a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“Not at all,” I hastened to say. Josh stared resolutely away from them, as though he’d just noticed the Diane Arbus photograph of the stripper on the wall for the first time.
This was the first time, believe it or not, Josh and I had interacted with another couple.
I could have taken the cues Josh sent me and simply turned back to him, giving him all my attention (which I believe is what he would have liked).
But, even though I didn’t know if this would be a few casual words between strangers or the beginnings of a friendship, I was determined to try to at least be sociable.
I yearned for company other than our own little bubble.
So, I grabbed Josh’s arm, smiling, and introduced us both to them.
“We’re a couple,” Josh felt compelled to add after we’d exchanged names.
“Okay, us too.” Michael took a sip of beer. “We just moved to Chicago a few months ago from Columbus. Loving it so far.”
To my surprise, we ended up deep in conversation for the next hour or so. Michael was gregarious to the point of being annoying, but I kind of appreciated his talkativeness because Josh, while friendly, was quieter than he’d been earlier when it was only me.
We shared our backgrounds, schools attended, music we loved and hated, films we adored, and more.
I told them all about Chicago’s ethnic diversity and the hidden gems of restaurants it would take newcomers years to discover—places like the Vietnamese Hai Yen on Argyle, or just a stone’s throw away, Ethiopian Diamond on Broadway.
In the end, I proposed the dinner that was about to happen in fewer than two hours. Michael and Dan were thrilled. I think they were just as desperate for friends as I was, even if they had different reasons.
All the way home on the L, though, Josh was quiet.
I attributed it to being tired.
The only thing that seemed off was that he asked me if I realized how obvious it was to Dan and him how attractive I found Michael.
I laughed and he didn’t. “You’re not serious?”
“I’m surprised you could keep your tongue in your mouth.”
I laughed again and pretended I thought he was joking.
*
Josh and I stood on my balcony, waving at Michael and Dan. They were on the street below, heading toward the L, a block away on Jarvis. They lived only about three or four stops away in the Edgewater neighborhood, very close to where Josh lived.
The evening had actually gone better than I expected.
It was a little past midnight and I was happy with the meal (the roast chicken was my best ever) and with their company.
We sat around the dining room table until just a few minutes ago, laughing and exchanging stories. They already felt like old friends.
There was lots of hugging and promises to see each other again soon at the door as they prepared to leave.
Josh and I stepped out onto the balcony, into the chilly fall air, and watched them from above. After they’d disappeared around the corner at Ashland Avenue, I turned to Josh. “I think that went very well.”
“I suppose so.” His lips were a thin line and his arms were crossed.
“What?” I asked. He’d been so affable all evening. The iciness of his response and his body language mystified me. “Weren’t they great? I hope they make good on their promise to have us over next.”
Josh didn’t say anything. He stared out at the night.
A few leaves whispered in the big maple in front of the building.
An L train passed by, cackling and sending off sparks from the tracks.
Over on Ashland, people talked and laughed.
Like Josh, the wind had taken on a chill and I wondered how long it would be before the first snowflakes fell.
“Josh?” I touched his arm and he shrugged my hand away.
“I didn’t really care for them.”
I was genuinely puzzled and disheartened. All evening, Josh had been outgoing and charming, cracking jokes, keeping wineglasses filled, and making sure everyone was satisfied and comfortable. This was the last thing I expected.
To my eyes, we’d all gotten along superbly.
The four of us were similar ages and worked in jobs that put us at about the same income level.
They got my sense of humor, which can be a little quirky, more Little Britain and AbFab than How I Met Your Mother or Parks and Recreation.
Dan shared the same taste in books that Josh did—tearjerkers from the likes of Jodi Picoult and Nicholas Sparks.
Michael and I exchanged a glance when talked turned to books, since he and I were, um, on the same page when it came to reading material.
We both loved thrillers from writers like Michael Robotham, Dennis Lehane, and Laura Lippman. We also loved true crime.
Now, looking back, I remember how Josh had abruptly changed the subject when I brought up the true crime genre by asking, “What are you guys streaming these days? Anything we should watch?”
Deflecting? I couldn’t help but wonder.
My spirit deflated like a popped balloon.
I headed toward the door to go back inside.
Josh followed. Silently, I moved to the kitchen, where I began scraping and rinsing plates.
It was silly, but I wanted to cry. I’d banked so much on this dinner—the hopes that we’d perhaps find another couple to hang out with.
Despite enjoying my time with Josh, I’d learned a long time ago that, no matter how much one wants it, no one person can ever be the be-all and end-all to another.
“So what? You’re mad at me now because I didn’t like them?”
I closed my eyes, irritated with him. I didn’t say a word as I loaded the dishwasher.
Finally, when I finished, I took my time rinsing my hands off and drying them.
I looked at Josh, leaning against the arch that led into the kitchen.
In that moment, I just wanted to be away from him, to lick my wounds.
I edged by him and went into the living room and plopped down on the couch.
He sat next to me, waiting.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. “I’m not mad, not really. I’m just disappointed. These seemed like perfectly nice guys—and you have to admit, we had a lot in common. We had good conversation. We made each other laugh. What more do you want?”
Unbidden, a thought came to me as though I’d pulled it from Josh’s mind—what I want is you, all to myself.
He stared straight ahead and then said something I couldn’t believe, something that never even occurred to me. “I don’t like the way Michael looks at you.”
“What are you talking about?” I hissed. “He looks at me like he looks at you. I admit, I think he’s cute, but he’s with Dan and I’m with you. I certainly saw nothing inappropriate.”
Josh snorted. “He looked at you, like fat Dan stared at that chicken when you brought it out—ready to devour some meat. Practically drooling.” He laughed.