Chapter 8
Nic
Loretta couldn’t be more the opposite of Lois—soft-spoken and every fiber of her being exuding self-discipline, to the point of uptightness—but I try to enjoy our double date nonetheless.
“Is post-queer even a thing?” I ask, kind of out of the blue. Avery’s had me thinking about it. I glance at Ben because he’s the youngest of our foursome—although he’s also a firefighter and, according to him, queerness isn’t much discussed in those circles.
“You’re asking me?” Derek clearly thinks I was looking at him.
“You are an interesting person to ask the question to,” I say.
“As a formerly closeted Hollywood A-lister, you mean?”
“Yeah. Now that even Ida Burton is married to a woman, it would seem post-queer is a thing.” I take a sip from the excellent wine Ben and Derek always serve.
“In my opinion,” Loretta interjects, “if you’re lucky enough to live in a liberal bubble like Hollywood, it may seem like it, but most gay people are not so lucky. So my answer would be a definite no.”
“Hollywood wasn’t always like that,” Derek says.
Loretta just nods.
“Have you experienced much homophobia on your way to making captain?” I ask. I can see why Derek wanted to set me up with Ben’s new boss. She’s definitely attractive with that strong jawline, those bright, intelligent eyes, and the short gray hair she wears really well.
“Yes,” Loretta says. “Of course.” It’s been like this a few times over the course of the evening—like drawing blood from a stone. I have reticent clients who are easier to talk to than her. Or, maybe, she’s just not that into me.
“It’s always different for women in such a male-dominated environment,” Ben says, coming to his captain’s rescue.
“Time for dessert,” Derek announces. “Nic.” He nods toward the kitchen as though I will quickly whip something up. “Give me a hand?”
I follow him into the smaller back kitchen off the main cooking area, solely for privacy reasons.
“I’m not feeling it,” he says. “Between you and Loretta. Please, tell me I’m just a dumb gay with no sensitivity toward my lesbian sisters.”
I shake my head. “I’m not feeling it either, and I’m sure neither is Loretta.”
“She’s very dashing, though.” Derek actually fans himself.
I chuckle while I nod. “She is, but… the vibe just isn’t there.”
“You’d make such a great-looking couple.” He juts out his bottom lip.
“I’m not sure Loretta likes me very much. Did Ben tell her this was a double date?”
“You know my husband. He surely spelled it out so there was no room for misunderstanding.” He scratches the stubble on his chin. “He might have misjudged her personality outside of work. I agree that she’s… not very forthcoming.”
“It’s okay. We can still have a good time. We have a lovely bottle of wine and I hear dessert is coming up. What did you make, darling?”
“I made for you…” Derek grins at me as he opens the fridge—because we both know he didn’t prepare any of tonight’s dishes. “Elderflower panna cotta with grapefruit coulis. Please lend me one of your gorgeous hands to bring these out.”
Loretta is actually smiling when I return to the dining area and present her with dessert.
Maybe Ben does have that effect on her. While Derek is right and I shouldn’t go looking for a second Lois, the woman I might, eventually, fall for will need to be a bit closer in personality to my late wife than Loretta is.
At my age, being attractive doesn’t cut it.
And maybe I’d like to be swept off my feet one more time in the second part of my life.
Lois sure had that effect on me when we met, although I was an impressionable twenty-nine-year-old then, which I’m decidedly not anymore.
Loretta isn’t the type to stay late and help us polish off another bottle of wine either. After she’s said her polite goodbyes, with a kiss on the cheek so light it barely registered, the three of us go out onto the deck with our generously refilled glasses.
“No date for me at my sister’s sixtieth birthday party.” I sound a lot more dramatic than I feel. Five years is a long time to get used to going to events alone.
“The captain’s hard to read,” Ben tries, but I can tell his heart’s not in it anymore.
“Ida’s preparing a big speech for Leslie,” Derek says. “I’ve heard some snippets. It’s going to be… very Ida.”
Maybe it’s the wine, but my mind drifts to Avery coming to my sister’s party next Saturday.
Over the years, I’ve counseled quite a few of my sister’s clients.
If they’re at the party, some will nod at me, others will pretend not to know me.
A few may come up to me and tell me all about their lives since we parted ways.
But I’ve always kept all relationships strictly professional and thirty years of experience has made the setting of those boundaries second nature.
Yet I can’t help but wonder how Avery will react when she spots me at the party.
“Oh, Ida,” I groan, more to humor Derek than anything else. “Our timing was just wrong.”
“She could only come out of that closet for Faye Fleming,” Derek says.
I didn’t know Derek personally when he was Ida Burton’s fake husband.
We only became close when he busted out of the closet, leaving Ida with some explaining to do.
Even in private, Derek never once hinted at Ida being gay before she was ready to come out herself, which was quite a few years after Derek.
This all happened less than ten years ago, which makes me think we are still extremely far from being post-queer. But Avery belongs to a younger generation for whom being queer is very different.
“Still, to be the ham in that sandwich,” I say, very much channeling Lois, because it’s very much something she would have said.
“As far as I know,” Derek says, “and I know more than most.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Ida and Faye don’t put anything in their sandwiches.”
“They also don’t eat bread,” Ben deadpans, leaving us in stitches and it feels so good to have a silly giggle with my friends. So much so, that it’s easy to forget all about my failed first foray back into dating.