Chapter 1 #2
He gave me a funny look, but after a second, he nodded. “Yeah. It’s that old building behind the co-op; I rented the apartment on the top floor.”
I kept my expression neutral but was surprised. That place catered more to students than faculty. He didn’t look very excited about the apartment, and I didn’t blame him.
“I signed the lease months ago, but they’ve been delaying the move-in date for weeks now.
” He scowled, obviously frustrated, an interesting departure for someone who always seemed unfazed by what was going on around him.
When he spoke, it was clear he wasn’t happy about the situation.
“They seem to have some issues with the building. I’m starting to think I may need to look for something else.
But housing here is such a hassle. I’m not sure I’ll be able to find something close to campus this late in the game. Classes already started.”
I should have left it alone, but the temptation was too strong and before I knew it, I was blurting it out.
“Landlords in Ithaca can be a pain in the ass. If you do want to look for other options, let me know.” This time I was the one clearing my throat and feeling awkward, but I pushed through.
“My building has a couple of units open.”
He perked up at that but almost immediately went back to his calm, cool, and collected demeanor. I could tell he was interested though. He’d been to my place a few times last summer and knew it was in a nice location and that the apartments were pristine. Still, I braced for him to turn me down.
In the interest of not coming off like a full-on creep, I decided not to offer up the fact that I owned the building.
I fidgeted with the kale I had in my cart as I figured out how to proceed.
It wasn’t like “my money” was a secret. Patrice and I had talked about my family’s vineyard when we met, he’d seemed interested but not exactly impressed by my status within the one percent.
I didn’t want to give Patrice another reason to run in the opposite direction by reminding him about that, so I kept my mouth shut while he considered my offer.
He thought about it for another minute and then nodded. “I might call you up to ask for the landlord’s info. If I can’t move in this week, I’m going to start looking for another place.”
“Sounds good. Listen—”
I was about to take my shamelessness to the next level and ask him out for a drink or something when I saw him jump and then pull his phone out of his pocket. He smiled when he looked at the screen and spoke before I could.
“It’s my mom. We’re supposed to Facetime tonight. I should get going,” he said, giving me another smile, but this one was not at all inviting. “It was good seeing you, Easton,” he said, as he hurried away without giving me a chance to say goodbye.
I stood there wondering if I really could read people as well as I thought.
Because from the first moment with Patrice, I thought we’d shared something big, something worth exploring.
I could lie to myself about how it had been the same for him when he was a few hundred miles away, but with him here, maybe it was time for me to accept I was probably the only one who’d felt that way.
Patrice
“Well look who finally made it into town.”
I heard Nesto call out as I walked into his restaurant.
It was 8:00 a.m. on Monday, and he’d run out of the house at 7:00 a.m. so he could be here to receive an order.
He’d left Jude, his partner, and me home to take our time before we each headed to work.
But he’d forgotten his iPad, which he apparently needed.
So I stopped by on my way up to campus to drop it off.
“Did you drive in, P?” Nesto asked, looking a little too amused at my expense. I was not fond of driving and had only bought the black Audi SUV I now owned after much prodding from my friends.
“Yes,” I said with a groan, making Nesto laugh with my very unenthusiastic answer.
“I assume you got my man to work in one piece.” His humorous tone almost, but not quite, masked the fact that he actually wanted to know if I’d safely delivered his lover to work.
“He’s safe and sound at the library.” Nesto grinned, as he always did whenever his boyfriend was the topic of conversation.
“See you’re getting a hang of this driving thing, bro.” He clapped me on the shoulder, still grinning. I slapped his hand away which made him laugh harder.
I’d lived most of my life in New York City and never had a need for a car.
It was a big milestone to now be someone who needed to drive everywhere.
Only my friend Camilo was sympathetic to my dilemma, but even he told me to face the fact I would need one if I was living in Ithaca.
Juan Pablo and Nesto just told me to get over it.
My mom, on the other hand, had been very reluctant about the car purchase.
She was usually all for the flex, but me driving a car upstate was not sitting well with her.
She kept saying it made her nervous. I tried to temper her uneasiness by reminding her that I wasn’t going to be driving in the city and would most likely not get into a head-on collision with a yellow cab going eighty on the wrong side of a one-way street, as one would on any given day in Manhattan.
She acquiesced, begging me to be careful, but still not fully at ease.
I usually joked around with her whenever she got overprotective—I was her only child and sometimes that meant she was a bit more in my business than necessary.
But this time I didn’t push, because I knew what she worried about was not me getting into a fender bender.
She worried about what the mother of every black man who got behind a wheel of a car in this country worried about.
Hell, I worried about it, too, and it pissed me off, because I refused to live in fear.
But I wasn’t delusional either so I still spent the night before I picked up my car watching YouTube videos on what to do if you got stopped by the police.
I also made sure I kept my license and registration on the visor above the driver’s seat where it was fully visible and easy to get.
I hated having to do that, and how paranoid it made me feel, but I wasn’t a fool.
I was pretty good at avoiding things I didn’t want to deal with, but some things you ignored at your own peril.
“Dude, you look mad emo right now.” Nesto’s reproachful tone finally pulled me out of my fretting. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes waiting for you to talk. The fuck, Patrice?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Just got distracted. Jude needs one of us to drive him back home.” Nesto’s face lit again.
“Good, he’s been on a carpool kick lately. He’s been taking the bus, trying to be more mindful of the environment.”
Jude had changed Nesto in so many ways. He and I had always been the intense ones in our foursome. Nesto, Camilo, Juanpa, and me.
Like me, Nesto had never made time for romance or indulged in situations that could end up messy.
He’d taken huge chances when he’d left the city to come here.
Put it all on the line with his business and his heart, but it had paid off.
Here he was, living with the man he loved, his whole life on a different track.
I wanted to talk with Nesto about seeing Easton. I knew I needed some advice but still couldn’t make myself open my mouth. Why was it so hard for me to talk about this stuff? Nesto was like my brother; we’d seen each other through everything.
Why couldn’t I open up to him about this?
Before I talked myself out of it, I did it.
“I ran into Easton last night.” As soon as I mentioned it, an image of how he’d looked filled my head.
He’d just been in jeans, a sweater, and sandals, but as always, it all looked like it was tailor-made for his lean body.
The only little bit of imperfection had been his adorably ruffled hair.
His dark brown, almost black, hair was usually perfectly styled, but last night it had been messy, which only made him that much more appealing to me.
Those green eyes flashing with want. But also surprise and apprehension.
Like he’d expected me to be an ass to him.
I knew I’d run into him eventually. This was a small town and we knew a lot of the same people.
And no matter how many times I told myself I was here because no one could say no to a tenure track position at an Ivy League school, I couldn’t lie to myself.
The fact that Easton lived here had been on my mind in a big way while I was deciding to take this job.
He was so fucking fine and seeing him last night had been sobering. Everything inside me seemed to realign when I was around him. Easton made me feel like I was the center of the universe, like I could be however I wanted and he’d be into it.
Being myself in front of people I didn’t know was not easy for me.
Even with my friends, I was closed off and guarded at times.
I was always on the lookout for what was going on around me, mindful of the space I was taking up.
Aware of all the different ways people were looking at me.
How I was coming off, and the assumptions people were making about me.
A black man had to always think about the space he was in.
Most of the time, it seemed like people were looking right through me. Not Easton.
He looked at me like my friends and my mother looked at me.
Like he could see all of me. The me on the outside and the me on the inside, and that fucking scared me.
There was too much I didn’t want seen so clearly.
That the Zen thing I tried to go for—the slow movements and the soft voice—were just my way of keeping the almost overpowering frustration I constantly felt from spilling out.