XX CJ
XX
CJ
When I tell Stuart about my resistance to Jack coming over, he scoffs at me.
“You have a handsome, kind, movie-star boyfriend who adores you,” he says, voice oozing sarcasm. “Why would you want to let him meet your friends and family?”
I give him my angstiest scowl, and he softens. “Listen, honey, you do a wonderful job protecting Agnes; you really do. But Jack is an important person in your life at this point, and he can’t know you without knowing her and—if I can be so bold—knowing me . I’m not suggesting you tell her that you’re fucking him—”
“ Stuart. ”
“But having a ‘friend’ for dinner... surely this is something we all can handle.”
It’s hard to make a case against this, so I give up trying. I invite Jack over for Chinese food and Movie Club the following Thursday. The entire week leading up to it, I walk around feeling like I’ve left the oven on or all my kitchen cabinet doors open.
I’m setting the table for the third time in twenty minutes when Jack rings the doorbell. He smiles boyishly as I let him in, a bottle of red wine in his hands.
“Sorry I’m a few minutes late. The Lyft driver got turned around,” Jack says quickly, nervously. It puts me at ease knowing it’s not just me who’s been reeling.
He crosses through the threshold, and we try to hug casually, but I feel the press of his nose into my hair. I watch his eyes take in Agnes, hiding behind my legs, then Stuart, then the details of my house: the framed vintage posters of Cabaret and Paper Moon on the buttermilk walls; the blown-up black-and-white photograph of my mother, taken by Stuart the year before I was born; the dark-green velvet couch, a reupholstered Rose Bowl flea find. I’m relieved that despite the presence of a four-year-old, my house is as neat as my office is messy.
“Wow, this home,” Jack says, and it’s like I exhale for the first time all day. “I’m Jack,” he says, extending his hand to Stuart.
The hand goes ignored in favor of an embrace. “Please,” Stuart says. “And thank you, CJ, for passing along my wine preferences and, Jack, for obliging. The record has been updated to reflect your ass-kissing.”
“Permanent record, I hope,” Jack says earnestly, and Stuart gives him a full-throated cackle as I beam. But Stuart isn’t the difficult customer.
Jack bends down now, addressing Agnes at her level. “Hi, Agnes. I’m Jack. It’s nice to meet you.”
Agnes doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t bolt either. For her, it’s a start. When he asked about bringing her a gift, I told him not to, but now that we’re here, I’m not sure if I was right.
I clap my hands. “Time for dinner!” Calm down , I remind myself.
As I unbox our lo mein and string beans, Jack opens the wine, and Stuart pours water. Agnes hops into her chair, and we all do the same.
“So, Jack, CJ tells me you’re from London,” Stuart says, reaching for the fried rice. “Well, I should say, first, your Wikipedia page told me that you were from London. But then CJ did too.”
“Stuart,” I chide. I could’ve timed how long it would take him to bring up Jack’s celebrity to the minute.
“I am from London.”
“Not one of the posh parts, I hope,” Stuart continues.
“No, not one of the posh parts. One of the deeply average parts.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear. I’m a Leeds man myself.”
“He was a Leeds man,” I clarify. “He hasn’t lived there in fifty years.” I glance over at Agnes, who is more focused on her sesame chicken than Jack’s presence.
“Left when I was eighteen and never looked back.”
“That accent?” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Basically fake.”
“You take that back!” Stuart says with Shakespearean flair.
Jack laughs. Then I laugh. Then Stuart laughs. My whole body relaxes all at once.
“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “I already knew that too. Because I also read your Wikipedia page.”
“Is that right?” Stuart asks, intrigued and charmed.
“It is. I’m a big fan. You should have seen me carry on about Wheels of Steel when CJ told me her Stuart was Stuart Blitz.”
I had kept Stuart in the dark about Jack’s love of his movies, wanting Jack to have the opportunity to tell him himself.
Stuart winks at me. “He’s a keeper.”
Jack and I lock eyes and smile, and Stuart refills our wineglasses. “OK, Jack, what other movies do you love?”
Jack casts a look at Agnes, who is making her way through a mound of white rice. “Well, Fantasia is one of my all-time favorites.”
Agnes looks up, and her eyes go wide. “Mine too,” she says quietly.
“Yours too?!” Jack says, incredulous. “Maybe we could watch that tonight?”
“Can we, Mommy? Please? ” She clasps her hands together in desperation.
“I don’t know... we just watched it yesterday,” I say.
“Come on, I really want to watch it too,” Jack chimes in. “And I didn’t see it yesterday.”
“Oh, alright .” I fake relent.
“Yes!!!” Agnes cries out, grinning at Jack, her coconspirator.
“Smooth,” I mouth to Jack, knowing he’s been cramming for this like a final exam, turning to his friend Tom, who has a three-year-old, for coaching and advice. I’m touched by his effort and also by their friendship.
“Now that that’s settled, Jack,” Stuart chimes in. “Talk to me about what you love about Wheels of Steel .”