3. Miller
Miller
While Collie was off trying to bond with the wild animal that shared my home, I tidied up a bit. Then I collected some spare bedding and brought it to the office.
After maybe twenty minutes, I went in search of my houseguest. I figured his mission would have ended in heartbreak by now. Instead, I found Collie curled up in the largest of the pet beds with my traitorous cat in his arms. She was purring contentedly as he scratched her neck.
When he noticed me standing in the doorway, he announced, “I’ve named her Hecate Persephone Inkblot van der Void. Kate for short.”
“So, you changed her name from Cat to Kate. That’s barely different.”
“It’s completely different! For one thing, it’s an actual name. You should call your vet’s office and give them her new information, so they can stop thinking of you as the guy who couldn’t be bothered to name his cat.”
“They’re closed.”
“On Monday, then.”
“Remind me.”
“Oh, I will.”
I took a seat on the floor and leaned against the wall facing him as I asked, “What did you do to get her to like you?”
He raised a brow at that. “What kind of answer are you expecting here, that I slipped her a twenty? I just sat down and waited, and after about four minutes she climbed into my lap.”
“So it’s just me that she hates.”
“Apparently.” He brushed his hair back and said, “Quick question. Why are there so damn many pet beds in here?”
“I keep trying to find one she likes. I’ve tried firmer ones, fluffier ones, enclosed, wide open. But whenever I give her a new one, she makes a point of sitting down right outside it and staring at me accusingly.”
“This Doberman-sized dog bed is very comfortable, but did you really think she’d go for it?”
“I clicked the wrong size when I was shopping online.”
“If she hates all these beds, where does she sleep?” I pointed at an empty box across the room, and Collie chuckled.
To make conversation, I said, “So, tell me. Now that you’ve moved to San Francisco, what’s the plan?”
“Step one, find a job.”
“What type of work were you doing back home?”
“I worked at a thrift shop, which was pretty great. I started as a cashier in high school, and I was the assistant manager when I left.”
I asked, “What did you like about it?”
“Getting first crack at all the cool stuff that came in. I also used to love working with my best friend Jeannie back in the day. But then she married Brad and got preggo and quit.”
I had to grin at the way he said his name. “Not a fan, I take it.”
“He’s a douche. I hate the way he always seems indifferent to Jeannie and their kids.
Like, he’ll spend time with them, but only if none of his buddies are available to watch a game or drink some brewskis.
He’s one of those guys that peaked in high school, and now all he can talk about are his former glory days playing football.
Like, dude, seriously, it’s been a decade.
Nobody cares that you scored a touchdown against the Lincoln High Cornfuckers. ”
“Do you mean Cornhuskers?”
“Whatever. I’ve always thought athletes were an odd lot in general. Like, how much external validation do you need, exactly?”
I smirked and told him, “We need tons.”
“You’re an athlete?”
“I was. Now, not so much.”
“What was your sport?”
“Baseball, from the time I was four years old. I actually went to college on a baseball scholarship before blowing out my shoulder during my junior year.”
“Were you a pitcher?” I nodded, and he asked, “Did you dream of playing professionally?”
“That was my dad’s dream for me. When I tore up my shoulder, I don’t want to say it was a relief…”
“But it kind of was?”
“I really did enjoy playing baseball, but my entire future was mapped out by the time I was seven. I randomly chose computer science as a major, but I never really asked myself what I wanted to do with my life, because that had been decided for me.”
Collie nodded. “Now your midlife crisis at thirty totally makes sense.”
I picked at a rough edge on one of my fingernails and admitted, “I’m not a hundred percent sure I made the right choice by becoming a digital artist. I love it, but sometimes I question whether I’m creative enough for this job.”
“I think it’s awesome that you went for it. Most people only dream of doing something like that, but you actually made it happen.”
I didn’t love talking about myself, so I redirected the conversation by asking, “What about you? What’s your dream job?”
“I know I should have an answer to that at my age,” he said, “but honestly, I have no clue. My dream was to get the hell out of my small town and move here. That’s pretty much it. I never thought very far beyond that.”
“Well, one thing at a time. Congrats on reaching your lifelong goal, and welcome to San Francisco.”
His face lit up in a bright smile. “Thanks, I’m damn glad to be here. And making a friend on day one has been like finding five bucks in an old pair of jeans.” I must have looked confused, because he added, “You were a nice surprise, Miller.”
The cat finally had enough of her new BFF. She climbed off Collie’s lap and walked about three feet away before sitting down, throwing her leg in the air, and licking herself, all while staring at me. I muttered, “Does she really have to maintain eye contact while doing that?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He changed the subject with, “You said something about a baseball game tomorrow. Are you watching or playing?”
“Playing. I’m on a team with a bunch of people from work.”
“Do you have a punny name?”
“Of course. We’re the Artful Dodgers. Get it? Because we’re a bunch of artists, and the Dodgers are a—”
“Major league baseball team. Dude, I get it, right down to the random Dickens reference.” He shifted around so he was curled up on his side in the dog bed, with one hand propping up his head. “You can still play, even after messing up your shoulder?”
“Yeah. We’re not exactly going for major league pitching speeds here. Plus, even if I get sore, there’s plenty of time to recover between games.”
“Can I come along?”
“Didn’t you tell me all of five minutes ago that you hate sports?”
“That’s not exactly what I said. I don’t like attention-seeking high school athletes, and that’s because the jocks at my school were such a stereotype. They always went out of their way to pick on the scrawny gay kid. How was I even worth the effort?”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. But for the record, not all of us jocks were bullies.”
“Well no, not you, because you were also the only out gay kid at your school. You would have had to beat yourself up. It’d be like, Fight Club, the early years.” I grinned at that, and he asked, “When did you come out?”
“When I was sixteen.”
“That’s bold, especially in a small town.”
“What about you, when did you come out?”
“I never had to. People started calling me gay when I was five. I didn’t even know what it meant at that point, and once I found out I was like, is that supposed to be an insult? All you’re doing is accurately describing me.”
“To circle back around to your original question, if you really want to come along to the baseball game tomorrow, you’re more than welcome. I guess I’m just surprised that that’s how you want to spend your first Saturday in the city.”
“If I go, I’ll get to meet a few people and see you in action,” he said. “That sounds way better than wandering around aimlessly without my van.”
“Then it’s a plan. You can come out with us afterwards, too. We go to this cool pub with darts, and axe throwing.”
“I’ll pass on hurling projectiles, but I’d love to go for drinks with you and your friends.”
We sat in the cat room talking about the most random stuff for the next hour or so. Finally, I stood up and stretched as I said, “I think I need to head to bed, or I’m going to be pretty useless at the game tomorrow.”
He got up too, smiling at me flirtatiously as he asked, “Want some company?”
It was tempting. He was very cute, but I found myself saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we should just keep this as a friendship.”
He looked so dejected that I felt like an asshole. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I knew it was a long shot. You’re way out of my league. I get that.”
“That’s not it at all! I think you’re adorable, and if I was going to hook up with anyone, it’d be you.”
“It’s okay, Miller. I’m used to rejection.”
“But I’m not rejecting you. The truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since my ex and I broke up, and I’m not ready to jump back in the saddle, so to speak.” I hadn’t planned on confessing that, but I couldn’t let Collie think this was about him.
“You don’t mean the ex from eleven months ago, do you? The plastic surgeon? There must have been one or two exes since then.”
“No. Just him.”
“Holy crap, what did that man do to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
Collie said, “Give me the short version.”
“He dumped me two days before our wedding.”
“Fucker!”
I nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eight years.”
“Double fucker!” I grinned at that, and he said, “I don’t get it. After eight years with a douche canoe, why aren’t you out screwing all of gay San Francisco, instead of punishing yourself in this self-imposed sex desert?”
It was self-protection, not punishment. But I didn’t want to try to explain that, so I went with, “It’s better this way.”
“Is it?”
“He really hurt me, Collie, and I never want to go through that again. I’m done with relationships, and one-night stands and random hookups were never my thing...”
“So, where does that leave you?”
I broke eye contact and muttered, “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you decide to give the whole friends with benefits thing a try, you know where to find me.” He gave me a hug, which I returned awkwardly. “Good night, Miller.”
“Good night, Collie.”
Once he was gone, I looked at the cat, who was staring at me with wide, unblinking yellow eyes. “I know,” I whispered. “I have issues. Quit judging me.”
We stared each other down for a long moment, and then she got up and hurried after her new best friend. I was tempted to go chasing after him, too.
Instead, I went to bed alone and tried to convince myself this was the right call.
Sex always brought complications with it, and it always made me feel vulnerable. I didn’t want to deal with that, not when I was still trying to piece myself back together.
I’d been telling myself versions of this for almost a year now. Somehow though, it had made a lot more sense before Collie crashed into my life.