Better Than Friends (22 page)

When our drink order was placed, Jack gave me his full attention, leaning his forearms on the table and fixing me with an expectant stare.

“So….”

“Yes?”

“What are we supposed to talk about?”

I had to laugh. “Gee, Jack, I don’t know. I’ll throw out a couple of suggestions, and you tell me if any sound interesting. Work?” Jack shook his head in the negative. “That leaves the following: friends, family, movies, current events, or sports. We could go into religion or politics, but I’d prefer a relaxing dinner myself. Anything sound interesting?”

“So we’re treating this a little like a
Jeopardy
category, eh?” His devilish grin lit his eyes. I had a sudden urge to touch the crinkled marks of time at their corners. God, I hope I looked half as good as Jack at his age. The lines were subtle and served only to enhance his strong features. I bit my cheek and raised my glass in agreement.

“Okay. Since this is technically your ‘date’….”

“No. It’s ours,” I insisted.

“No, the next one is my choice of venue or whatever. You said dinner or a movie, right?”

I smiled and took a sip of wine. “Sure, Jack. I don’t think I’ll be up for a movie tonight, though. Does that mean I get a part two?”

Jack sighed heavily, picked up his wineglass, and made a big show of draining half the contents before setting the goblet down and giving me a theatrical eye roll. “Fine. You can have a part two.”

I burst out laughing. I had caught on over the past couple of months that teasing and light bantering were communication tools Jack used liberally. When things were tense or uncomfortable or in danger of becoming so, he would say or do something ranging from silly to provocative to ease the mood. Whatever he said might get me riled about something completely off topic, but it worked to diffuse my anxiety. I didn’t know if it was just a skill he had honed over the years or if he understood me. Jack was one of the most intimidating-looking people I’d ever met, but his wicked sense of humor and his innate kindness kept me from backing away even when I starting thinking I was in over my head.

“Gee thanks. So I choose the category, eh? Um, I never ever would go there usually, but I’m curious about your family. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Jack groaned. “God, let’s keep this short, please. Basic need to know… I have one sister, Kelly, who you know. She’s married to Kevin, and they have Petra and Blake. Our mother lives in Florida. Whew. That’s over. Wanna talk about yours, or should we discuss what movie we’re going to next time?”

“Not so fast.” I held up a hand and waited until his gaze met mine. “What about your dad or stepdad? Didn’t you tell me you—”

“He left.” Jack picked up his wineglass, but it was a nervous gesture, more about having something to do with his hands than because he wanted a drink. If smoking weren’t prohibited in the restaurant I had a strong feeling he would have lit a cigarette right then.

“Oh. Was it a long time ago?” Jack remained silent. “Sorry… we don’t have to talk ab—”

Jack set the glass back down and leaned forward. “Yeah. It was a long time ago. I don’t care if we talk about it, but the story is boring. No doubt the same shit millions of kids across our fair land experience all the time.” He turned his head toward the street as if distracted. “I’m five years older than Kel. We’re technically half siblings. Same mom, different dads. Our dear ole mom is on husband number… damn, I think it’s number five now. She’s a mess. Always was, really. I never knew my biological father, but he was hubby number one. Story is that he left us when I was two.” He shrugged as if that type of thing was expected. “Number two was Kelly’s father. I barely remember him. He was killed in a car wreck when she was a baby. I think she was one. I was six, and fuck… that was rough. All the crying and…. Anyway, Hal was number three. He’s the only one I knew well and he was….” Jack paused and swallowed hard. “He was a great dad.”

“Did they divorce?” I prodded gently, hoping he’d continue.

“Eventually. But Kel and I lucked out. Or maybe only I did. They got married when I was ten and divorced just about when I turned eighteen. He was a good man. He took his responsibility as father to two rug rats who weren’t even his very seriously. He cared about schoolwork and discipline. Shit my mom couldn’t be bothered with. And best of all, in the mind of a ten-year-old kid, he cared about baseball.”

Jack smiled weakly. I returned the gesture and again waited silently for him to gather his thoughts.

“I’d always loved baseball but I’d never played anything organized. My mom didn’t really pay attention and, well, Hal bought me my first bat and glove. He signed me up for Little League and coached three of the teams I was on. I was this skinny little kid, constantly talking back and getting into trouble. It’s crazy he even bothered, you know? But he did. He was patient, sometimes hard on me, but he was consistent.”

“What happened?”

“My mom was a fucking drunk. She let Hal raise us, while she drank his money away. The shit hit the fan when I was eighteen. She had an affair and was less than discreet about it. Everything fell apart at the seams. He left. I was devastated. Probably more so than anyone else.” Jack gave a humorless half-chuckle as if laughing at his younger self’s naïveté. “I had just graduated from high school and had formulated this grand plan in my head about taking a cross-country motorcycle journey to celebrate and then maybe come back and enroll in some college courses. It didn’t quite work out like I’d hoped. We needed the money I made to help support us as she began this crazy downhill spiral. I was angry and she was verbally abusive. It was horrible. One night we got into it. God only knows what it was about but I’d had it. I thought, fuck it. She takes and takes and nothing is ever enough. In the heat of the moment, I came out. She didn’t believe me at first, but when I didn’t back down, she realized I might be telling the truth. So she kicked me out. She wanted nothing to do with me. She said it was my fault Hal left. Who’d want to be around my kind? Blah, blah, blah. Except she changed her tune when it became apparent he wasn’t coming back and she needed any measly bit of money I could send home. Fucking bitch.”

“So you never saw him again?”

“No, I did. He actually would send me a little money for groceries, things for Kelly. We kept in touch or tried to for a while, but eventually he met someone else and started a new life. Grown stepkids of no relation are hard to neatly weave into a new start. I didn’t blame him, but… whatever.” He shrugged like it was inconsequential. Unimportant. Obviously the opposite was true.

“What about Kelly? You didn’t hang around ’til she was eighteen, right?”

“No. My aunt swooped in to take over and helped get my mom sorted out. I moved out, took college courses nearby, and worked at a dive bar serving drinks to gay leather daddy motorcycle-types. I sent my ‘dirty gay money’ home to help out with expenses until she got back on her feet and met the next sucker. Thankfully, husband number four was financially comfortable, which allowed me to cut the apron strings so to speak and get the fuck out of the state. I kept moving north until I landed as far as Baltimore. Then I backtracked to DC when Kelly and Peter came to join me. The rest is history.”

We let the conversations of our fellow diners fill in the silence at our table. After a moment or two, Jack made a quirky face and crossed his eyes. I chuckled and allowed the present to take over and chase away ancient ghosts. Talking about old family crap didn’t have to bring us down. We didn’t have to let it.

“You and Kelly seem close. You’re lucky.”

“Yeah. I know. She’s incredible. She may be tiny, but she’s tough. She had to be, dealing with our mother. Kel always had this gift for seeing through bullshit. If you aren’t real, you don’t stand a chance with her. She’s… special.”

When our waiter came to deliver our dinners, I watched Jack, surreptitiously wondering if he realized how much he’d shared. We hadn’t been overly talkative about our pasts in general, but I’d certainly been more forthcoming than him. Maybe that was because he asked. I wanted to know more about him, but I always assumed hard topics were off the table. Maybe that wasn’t the case.

“What? You’re looking at me funny,” Jack accused, picking up his fork to spear some lettuce.

“It’s nothing. I was thinking about family.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

I gave a half-chuckle at the apt expression. “For me it was more curse than blessing, but hey, you can choose your friends, but not your family, right?”

“True. What about your brother? Are you close? Were you ever?”

“No. Cary’s three years older than me. He was the golden child to my black sheep. He was great at everything he tried, gregarious, funny… and straight.”

Jack cocked his head and gave me a long stare. “You know, other than the straight part, it seems to me you’re describing yourself.”

I blushed at the compliment and though I hate it when people don’t accept them gracefully, I felt the need to tell him why he was wrong.

“I don’t think so.”

“Someone’s fishin’,” he singsonged, his blue eyes twinkling playfully.

“No, I’m not. But I’m not Cary.” I stopped, thinking that statement alone should explain everything.

“Good. I like you. You’re intelligent, friendly, funny, you’re fucking hot, and you like baseball. Enough said.”

Fucking hot? I couldn’t even begin to process that particular compliment, so I let it be.

“Baseball, eh? It all comes back to baseball.”

“Of course. Let me ask you something…. what does your brother have that you don’t that you think somehow makes you seem lacking?”

“Um….”

“I’m not talking about who you fuck, either. I’m talking about your traits as human beings.” He sat back in his chair, waiting.

“Cary was always more… willing to please than I was. There was enough of an age difference between us when we were younger that we didn’t compete directly. You know, as far as things like who was a better athlete or a better student were concerned. But….”

“Who was the better athlete and student?”

“Me actually.” I paused and shook my head ruefully. Jack gave me one of his “stop stalling, keep your story rolling” hand gestures.

“But Cary just… he’s more amiable, more….”

“You’re amiable.”

“Yeah, okay, but he’s….”

“A kiss ass?” Jack supplied.

I laughed outright. There was something very satisfying about having Jack in my corner.

“Maybe a little bit. He went into the family business and—”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but once again it sounds like you’re both smart men whose only glaring difference is your sexuality.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe our sexuality is our biggest difference. Personality wise, I’m friendly, sure, but I’m not willing to back down to please anyone. Even my father, so maybe you’re correct on that score too. Whatever. I think everyone assumed I’d come back with my tail between my legs begging for… forgiveness? I don’t know. My parents, my father especially is all about mind over matter. I think he believed I could beat my compulsion to be homosexual if I really tried. He didn’t understand it wasn’t a choice I made, that I was in fact born this way, like having boring brown hair and brown eyes. He saw it as stubbornness on my part. How do you even talk to someone like that? Communication is impossible.”

“You don’t. You’re never going to change how some people think, nor is it your job to do so. You can only do your best to be the most excellent human you can be and live a good life. What others think is just that, their opinion.”

“I know. I do. It took me time and distance to fully accept it, but in my heart, I always knew I was okay. It’s just… it’s hard being… orphaned with family sometimes. That’s all.” I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

Jack didn’t say anything at first. I looked away, wishing we had our usual distraction of a game on the television. No wonder Jack didn’t like “dating.” Face-to-face conversations over dinner made evasion and retreat practically impossible without a degree of awkwardness.

“I know how you feel. I have Kelly and we’re close, but she’s five years younger than me, so I spent a great deal of my formative years going it alone. I think I’m guilty of building my stepdad up to being bigger and better than reality because there was nothing like him before then. And just like him, everyone of significance after didn’t stick around. So yeah, I’m grateful for the family I have in Kel, because otherwise I am and always have been alone. Not orphaned per se, but alone.”

“So we’re together in being alone?” I smiled weakly, hoping to shift to a more uplifting line of conversation. Jack grinned and picked up his glass. He clinked it noisily with mine.

“It seems to me… if we’re together, we aren’t alone.” He pitched his voice low but spoke in a loud whisper, as though he were telling an exaggerated secret. It was classic Jack making a joke out of something that had the potential for turning uncomfortably serious.

The sounds of other diners and random passersby faded to a hum in the background. His words sounded symbolic and meaningful in spite of his playful tone, but I didn’t want to misinterpret. Regardless of intent, I recognized a current of depth and a connection between us.

By unspoken agreement we shifted away from talk of family to easier “categories.” In fact, we jokingly tackled every
Jeopardy
topic we’d thought up earlier, ending with a lively discussion about movies. We both loved action-adventure flicks, but Jack couldn’t understand my passion for classic films.

“Like black and white? The old movies where they didn’t even talk? Damn, might as well see a foreign film,” he snidely remarked.

“Yes, black and white. Silent films aren’t my favorite, though there are some great ones. I like classic old Hollywood movies with Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Katharine Hepburn, and the dreamiest of all, Cary Grant.”

“Wow. You really are gay. I think I see rainbow sparks and fairy dust in your aura. I bet you were jealous your brother got his name,” he teased.

I grinned widely, nonplussed by his observation. “Yeah, but liking the classics isn’t indicative of gayness, honey.”