So Much for My Happy Ending by Kyra Davis

stereotype.”
    Worse, I was stereotypical. I did want to go shopping. Even though I rarely shopped the Castro when I was a neighborhood resident, I missed the stores now that they were so much farther out of my way. “I really need more information. What do your friends do?”
    â€œMy friend’s a DJ and his, um…”
    â€œDomestic partner?”
    â€œRight, his domestic partner’s a property manager.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t think that helps me.” I chewed gently on my bottom lip. “How did they meet?”
    â€œIn a photography class. They’re both really into taking pictures.”
    I slapped the side of his arm. “I know the perfect thing!” I stuck a few bills under my glass, grabbed his sleeve and dragged him out of the bar and across the street to a New and Used Bookstore. “It has to still be here,” I murmured as I scanned the display tables. “It’s always here.”
    â€œWhat’s always—”
    â€œThat!” I pointed proudly at the coffee-table book that I had salivated over every time I came to browse. “A book of photographs by Annie Leibovitz. It’s contemporary, unique and it speaks to a shared interest. It’s the perfect wedding gift.”
    Jeremiah flipped through the pages. “Jesus, these are great.”
    â€œOf course they’re great. Do you think I would get all excited if the book was filled with crap?” I pressed my lips together self-consciously. My language had deteriorated in the short time I’d spent with Jeremiah.
    Jeremiah didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t know you well enough to be able to gauge what gets you excited.”
    â€œYou really are obscene, aren’t you?”
    â€œHey, we’re just friends, so it’s all good.”
    We were friends? When had that happened?
    He turned the book over and blinked at the price tag. “This book is thirty-three bucks.”
    â€œThat book is a work of art. Stop being a miser and buy it already.”
    Jeremiah made a noise of distaste but he tucked the book under his arm and brought it to the cash register. I stood behind him and looked longingly at the Swiss chocolates that they had featured on the counter.
    â€œHey, can I take you out for an early supper as a way of thanking you for helping me?”
    â€œIt’s barely five.”
    â€œI did say early, didn’t I? Come on, I’m hungry and I hate eating alone.”
    Going home was the right thing to do. I still had some boxes to unpack, thank-you notes to write for last month’s holiday gifts, bills to pay….
    â€œApril?”
    â€œYeah, I’ll get some food with you.”
    Since the weather was unseasonably warm, we went to Café Flore, which has outdoor seating. It was nicely fenced, so it was easier to pretend that we were in a countryside café rather than a restaurant that was bound to eventually be demolished by a runaway Muni bus. Once we had ordered and picked up our food and beverages at the counter and found a table I asked the question that had been killing me since I met Jeremiah. “Did you really go to college?”
    â€œI did indeed,” Jeremiah said as he scooted his chair in.
    â€œSo at what point did you unlearn the English language?”
    He made a show of wincing although it was obvious that I hadn’t hurt his seemingly impenetrable self-esteem. “April, did you take a foreign language in college?”
    â€œFrench.”
    â€œWere you any good at it?”
    â€œI was good enough to get Bs in my classes but I’m hardly fluent. If pressed I could probably still manage to give a Parisian tourist directions.”
    â€œAnd if pressed I can speak proper English,” he said with what I think was supposed to be an upper-crust accent but sounded more like a bad John Cleese impersonation. “I was even able to produce the very few grammatically correct term