Moments of Julian by Keary Taylor

his anyway.
    “ So, can we call this a do
over, from here on out?” Julian asks as we come to the end of the
nineteenth century. I turn and face him and he puts his hand on my
arm. “Sage McCain. Would you do the honor of being my date today,
to see the great city of Toronto?”
    I smile and Julian’s hand slides down
my arm until his fingers catch mine. “I would be happy to be your
date, Julian Dohring.”
    Julian crooks his arm and I slide mine
through his, and arm-in-arm, we make our way toward the eighteenth
century room.
    This is probably my favorite room.
Here we find men’s shoes with heels as high as the women’s. Some
have pointy toes, some have curled tips. There is even one pair
that has a plaque beneath it saying it is made of solid
gold.
    “ How could they even walk
in those?” I say as I observe a pair of armor shoes. The point of
them extends a good eight inches past where the toes would
end.
    “ That’s a good question,”
Julian comments as he leans in close to observe them. “But I would
not want to be kicked by someone wearing them.”
    Through the rest of the museum, we see
pairs of moccasins, detailed and beaded and colorful. We see jester
shoes, curled and huge and a riotous rainbow. We see war shoes,
with blades hidden in them and spikes attached to the
soles.
    And I feel like I am on cloud nine
when we finally reach the end of the museum.
    “ Are you ready for some
lunch?” Julian asks when we step out the front doors. The rain has
picked up a bit since we walked inside. He lifts the umbrella and
we stand close to stay under cover.
    “ I’m still a bit full from
breakfast, but I’d like something to drink,” I say.
    Julian is looking at the map on his
phone. “There’s a café just two blocks this way.” He points his
thumb to our left.
    I enjoy the excuse to be attached to
Julian so close. I once again hook my arm through his and hug to
his side to avoid the rain. Something about the moisture in the air
makes that signature scent of Julian’s stronger. I am sure that
scent will be locked in my head for a very long time.
    Julian orders a sandwich and I get a
green smoothie. We pick a seat by the window so we can watch the
people and the rain.
    “ So, how long has it
really been since you’ve been on a date?” I ask as I sip on my
smoothie.
    Julian finishes chewing and swallows.
“Um…it’s the middle of June now, and I think the last date I went
on was just before Christmas. So, five and a half
months?”
    I laugh and shake my head. “I guess it
would have been four weeks ago if your date for the Digit banquet
hadn’t gotten sick.”
    “ True,” he says with a
hesitant smile.
    “ That’s really not that
bad though,” I say with shame in my voice. “It’s been since October
of last year for me.”
    “ Seriously?” Julian says,
his eyes widening. “What is wrong with the men in your
life?”
    I cross my legs under the table and
don’t move my foot when it brushes the side of his leg. “Well, the
last date I went on, as soon as the guy found out who I work for,
obviously expected me to pay for the entire night. Which was fine.
But then things took a turn for the worse and by the end of the
night he called me butch.”
    “ Ouch. What a wad,” Julian
says with a disdainful expression.
    “ It was worse than it
sounds,” I say, my eyes drifting to the window. Every minute of
that date had gotten worse and worse and so as the night drew on,
so did my attitude. After dinner, I insisted I’d walk myself home.
The pompous jerk was apparently expecting some after dark action,
despite how terribly the date had been going, and said I obviously
must be a lesbian.
    “ Needless to say, I was
done for a while,” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest.
“What’s your excuse?”
    Julian doesn’t answer right away. He
takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly. His eyes dart up to
my face and I can see indecision in them.
    “ We’re on an actual date
now, right?