“You’re not going
in
to the diner today?” Mattie replied, ever so quietly, a look of hurt ill-concealed.
“I’ve been sitting across the street like a coward, trying to think of something to say. And I didn’t want to make it difficult for you to work.”
Mattie nodded, looking to the ground with a sniff. Meeting Mattie’s gaze once again, the writer was relieved to see that the sniff hadn’t been caused by tears. He stood closer, one shoulder lifting unconsciously in apology. “Mattie,” he said quietly, “I barely know you, but I know I’ve upset you, and I’m sorry.”
Those gorgeous hazel eyes that looked so sad regarded him, and Simon felt such a compulsion to protect, to take away the upset he saw there. “Can I please buy you a coffee? Can we talk?”
Mattie’s brows drew up sadly, and he looked away to the side before quickly shaking his head. “You said sorry, Simon, that’s enough. You don’t gotta spend time with me or avoid the diner. It’s fine.”
He’s a sweet guy. There can’t be a bad bone in his body, despite how he may make his money.
“Then will you let me buy you a coffee just because I want to?”
Mattie’s gaze was wary, not leaving his even when someone shouldered past, knocking into him. “I don’t want pity, Simon, or your disapproval. Even if I deserve both.”
“Just coffee, coffee and talking. I liked talking to you last night,” he pointed out.
That got him a hesitant smile, and Simon felt himself smiling back. “That a yes? Café Latte on me?”
Mattie bit his lip, hesitant, but then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Great.”
T
HEY
’
D
found a secluded booth in the back of a Starbucks, and Mattie unfolded and folded his hands restlessly on top of the table, watching as Simon walked over slowly with a tray. He’d wanted to sink into the ground when he heard Simon call his name on the street, but was glad that it appeared Simon was kind enough to approach him after the incident at the gallery.
He’d told his boss he was sick and left work early. As time’d ticked by with no appearance from Simon, he’d steadily begun to hate himself more by the minute. But this,
this
was promising. Perhaps it wouldn’t have to be awkward at work, and he could go back to just looking.
“Here we go.” Simon set the tray down and placed a small saucer in front of Mattie. “I got you a lemon square.”
He smiled sadly. Despite the encounter at the gallery, Simon seemed to be a stand-up guy. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”
“And a Cinnamon Dolce Latte.” He placed the mug next to the saucer. “It looked so good I got myself one too.”
He broke a corner off the lemon square and watched Simon take a sip of his drink, mumbling something about it being good before an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Mattie ran his hand over his hair and sighed.
“This is so awkward.”
“It is a little, yes,” Simon agreed.
“I’m guessing that… I mean, you’re either a really decent fella or you’re not all… you know, disgusted by me.”
Simon shook his head. “No, no, I’m sorry, I must apologize for my uh… my rather
harsh
reaction last night.”
Mattie snorted. “That wasn’t harsh, believe me. Don’t get me wrong. It was humiliating and kind of crushing, but it wasn’t harsh.” He took a sip of his drink. It was cinnamon-y.
Simon’s voice was strangled. “I don’t want to make you feel that way.
Christ
,” he sighed. “I don’t even know you. I’ve got no right passing judgment on you.”
“That’s true,” he said quietly, “but… I don’t know. I wish I could have kept that from you. It was nice getting to know you.”
“It’s not like we can’t ever talk again.”
Mattie watched him, swallowed. “You forget that I asked you out? All right, not very
smoothly
, but….” He trailed off with a shrug.
“No, I remember.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I guess I, ah, I guess I don’t really know what you… what—”
Mattie’s eyes widened, and he turned his head away with a grimace. “You thought I was trying to make a deal?”
Simon said nothing in response, and Mattie let out a small, sad laugh. “I think you’re handsome, okay?” He kept his eyes on the drink. “I think you’re good-looking and a nice guy. I didn’t want your money. I wanted to date you.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s….” Simon looked down at his drink, frowning.
Mattie winced and pushed the plate away, starting to stand. “Chalk it up to a simple mistake, but I’m heading off now. You’re a nice guy, but I don’t need to put myself through this.” He paused when Simon grasped his wrist.
“Please don’t. Please?”
Mattie sighed and slowly sat back down. He held no animosity toward him. Hell, Simon was being a gentleman right now, but he didn’t want any more apologies. He wanted to pretend that the entire exchange last night never happened; he wanted to go home and paint.
“I’m so—”
“
Don’t
,” Mattie bit out and closed his eyes to calm himself. “You don’t gotta do that. Don’t apologize, and please don’t feel bad for me. Just
—
just treat me normal-like, okay? I know you’re not going to want to date me, but you can look at me like a normal person, can’t you? I’m no different. No different at all. I just have financial problems. I’m a little stuck, and I have to dig myself out sometimes, but I’m not what you’re picturing. I don’t do drugs, I don’t… I don’t hang out in any gangs, I just… I struggle, that’s all.”
“Well,” Simon said quietly, “that’s one thing I certainly can understand.”
“Struggling?”
“Yes, but not in the same way, I think. I have financial security, but, well… the rest of my life is very complicated. I’m bound to it, to my son. I love him to death. I would never give him up, but that freedom I used to have is gone. My life revolves around his routine. Whereas you… you’re young, you could do anything, but money—well, it can cripple a person, can’t it?”
“That it can.” Mattie leaned closer over the table. “I want you to understand that I don’t… I don’t
enjoy
it. It means nothing.” He shook his head. “This is hard to talk about. I don’t even know you, but I feel like I’ve dared to try and do something normal, like ask you out, and now I almost…
owe
you the details.”
Simon shook his head. “You owe me nothing. But if you want to talk to me about it….” He sat back, wiped his hand over his mouth and chin. “Well, we’re here, talking. You’re not working, and I’ve got the time.” He smiled. “And for some reason, it is inexplicably easy to talk to you.”
Mattie leaned back, and they eyed each other. It felt neither unfriendly nor cautious, merely curious. “Do you want to know?”
“Know why you do it? I think so, though you’ve kind of alluded to that already. But we can just as easily sit here and talk about the weather if you want. It doesn’t have to be about that.”
Mattie watched him, took a deep breath, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “There’s never a good reason to get into it—hooking. I just need the extra money.”
“Your job?”
“Minimum wage. I make sandwiches, for crying out loud.”
“Family, friends?”
Mattie shook his head. “Family is a no-go. Friends….” He tilted his head and wet his lips. “There’s a few, and sometimes I can accept a little help when I can’t stand the alternative, but I don’t want to be a burden. Friends—good ones—are important, and I want to keep them, not sponge off of them.”
“Why the diner? Why not an office or somewhere that pays a little better?”
“I… ugh, I’m not really qualified.”
“You’re inexperienced? Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“No.” Mattie controlled the urge to whimper and looked away. “God, as if you don’t have a low enough opinion of me already.”
“Mattie…,” Simon encouraged softly.
“I kind of….” He shook his head. “Okay, here’s the thing. My mom took off early, my dad took to the bottle, and my teachers never really noticed that I never quite learned how to read.” He sat back, trying to gauge Simon’s expression, which appeared, ironically, to be unreadable. “I just fell on through the cracks, dropped out of school, and here I am.”
“That seems so unfair.”
“That’s how the cookie crumbles, I guess.”
“So… manual labor is pretty much…?”
“All I’m qualified for? Yes. Although….” He shrugged, self-conscious. “I’m, uh, I’m putting myself through this adult reading and writing course at the central library, over at 820 E Street?”
Simon had been leaning forward, his chin resting in his hand, but at that revelation his brows rose and his arm splayed down across the table with a thunk. “Mattie, that is entirely admirable.”
Mattie bit his lip, raised his eyebrow. “How do you think I pay for that course?”
Simon’s expression froze, and he leaned back against the booth with a quiet “Oh.”
“Still think I’m admirable, mister writer?”
Simon frowned. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do admire a person who’s trying turn their life around for the better.”
“Well… as long as you know it’s not a career choice—hooking, that is.”
Simon contemplated his next words, as if anxious they might cause upset. “Andrew, he… he said some things.”
Mattie immediately pulled himself up straight, something in his eyes shuttering closed. “And what was that?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I want to know what he said.”
“He said… he said you’d only do… certain things?”
Mattie cleared his throat, glancing away and clenching his jaw. “And you want to know this why, exactly?”
Simon blanched. “I didn’t—no, forget it, I should never of—”
“Oral only. I
cannot
let someone fuck me, and I can’t fuck any of them. That sort of thing has to stay intimate, you know? Just the thought turns my stomach. Don’t kiss ’em either. I figure I have to keep those things away from johns if I ever want them to feel good in a real relationship. And yes, I am always,
always
careful.”
Simon nodded, looking down at his mug and turning it slowly. Mattie’s brows drew together sadly, and he fought the urge to reach forward and touch the writer’s hand.
“Simon, it’s… how do I explain?” He huffed in frustration. “It’s casual. I can get by on casual. It’s important that it be just…
un
important. I can’t let that sort of thing mean anything to me. I mean, of course I crave something more… you know,
real
. But I have to keep it easy. I have to keep it casual. Do you—
can
you understand that?”
S
IMON
was surprised by the outpouring of emotion and the sharing of such infinitely personal feelings, the pity he’d felt for Mattie slowly being replaced by grudging respect. He still didn’t like it. He didn’t like that anyone would have to resort to that way of life to get by. It seemed infuriatingly unfair. But he couldn’t in all truth say that he never wanted to speak to Mattie again. There was a great deal of strength in the man sitting opposite him. It was merely smothered in some sort of guilt or self-hatred. It didn’t seem right.
“I think I understand. In fact, yes, the casual thing? Yeah, I get that.”
Mattie smiled. “Yeah?”
Simon smiled, rolled his eyes, and leaned forward with his hands clasped together on the table. “I find myself in a similar predicament.
Not
—”
Mattie let out a gentle laugh. “I know you don’t hook. Mister good-looking, sophisticated writer guy.”
Simon felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he shook his head and continued. “Seeing as we’re sharing and all… I, uh, I had a relationship. The permanent kind with a guy I was head over heels for, but then Carol-Ann—that’s my sister—she passed, and I was suddenly a father. He couldn’t take it. He stayed long enough to become important to Jamie and then cracked under the pressure.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “That’s the kind of thing that makes ‘casual’ seem like a lifesaver, doesn’t it? For us it’s different reasons, but….”
“You understand,” Mattie said quietly, his voice sounding almost relieved. “You actually get it.”
Simon lifted one shoulder slowly, an “I don’t know” gesture. “I will never risk my son being upset like that again, so if I do ever decide to date again….” He trailed off with a sigh. “Any future relationship for me would have to be totally on my terms, which sounds wholly unrealistic and unfair. What’s the male equivalent of spinsterhood?”
Mattie laughed softly and shrugged.
“Well, that’s what I’ve got coming, I think.” Simon laughed.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“That’s kind of you to say. Naive, but kind.”
“No way, man. I hope it’s okay for me to say this, but the guy that let you go? The guy that let your
kid
go? Out of his mind. Out of his ever-loving
mind
to let something like that slip through his fingers.”
Simon smiled. Fuck it. It was good to talk to Mattie. Whether it was just friendship or kinship manifested from understanding of their individual struggles, he liked him. He was a
good
guy, and it felt good being in his company. He noticed Mattie checking his watch and felt disappointed that he probably had somewhere else to be. On the heels of that thought was a question of where it was he had to be.
“I suppose you have to pick up Jamie soon, huh?”
Simon blinked in surprise, pleased that Mattie didn’t appear to making an excuse to leave and touched that his thoughts and concerns had been for his schedule and son. “Actually, I have someone taking care of him this afternoon.”
“Oh? You… you want to go for a stroll or something, then? Seeing as our drinks have gone cold, and all.”
Simon let out an amused huff, looking down at his Cinnamon Dolce Latte that was practically untouched and had gone stone-cold some time ago. “That sounds good.”
“I’
VE
never seen him upset. He’s always seemed perfectly content at the diner.” Mattie sidestepped an empty McDonald’s bag that had been left on the park pathway. They were walking aimlessly, just following the concrete path through the trees, passing the now-deserted swing sets and monkey bars as the sun went down.