when I found out she was seeing you -- I mean, I had hoped it was you, because how many Emory James speech therapists can there be?"
I shook my head, confounded by the question, among other things. "I don't know, I could check?" I said, ludicrous and wheeling off in some distant universe where this wasn't actually happening.
"I really didn't think I'd ever see you again. But then there you were. And I said to myself, 'Self,'" Nate said, the restiveness on his face giving way to something softer as he tentatively held my gaze, "'if you don't invite him out for coffee you'll regret it forever.' So I did."
The rules of conversation, curse whoever invented them, required that I respond in some fashion, though what that fashion was I had no clue.
"I'm glad you did," I said, surprising myself. To prevent the conversation taking a mawkish turn, I barreled on with a jaunty, "So, if not to stalk me, then what made you decide to move here?"
"Well, with the divorce and all, Julie's got her hands really full, so I thought I'd come and help out, especially since I can make my own schedule. I've been wanting a change for a while anyway; I wasn't that happy in San Francisco."
Oh, San Francisco, that's where he was from. Cross that off the checklist.
"You guys are close, huh?"
He nodded, smiling. "She gets me. She, uh..." he said, trailing off with a little reticence in his voice, not entirely sure he wanted to say what he'd been about to say. He looked at me for a moment, deciding. "I came out to my parents when I was sixteen. They were pretty... not okay with it, but Julie was always on my side. She got me through a tough time. So now it's my turn to get her through."
It was a hard fight not to reach out and touch him then, to ease some of the tightness out of his shoulders.
Coming out to your parents. What was that like? Not a barrel of monkeys, I'd imagine.
"So, yeah," Nate said, rallying. "Here I am."
"You liking it here so far?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah, it's cool. I really like my neighborhood; it's up north a bit, in Edgewater, and I'm pretty close to the lake," he said, "right on Granville and Kenmore."
I stared into the placid surface of my black coffee, and my gently undulating reflection showed me a face fixed in incredulity. "I live four blocks from there," I said.
Was this fate? If so, fate really needed to tone it down a notch or four thousand.
Nate's eyebrows knitted together. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "This is weird."
Nate agreed. "I guess maybe we're destined to be friends, huh?"
It wouldn't be the most terrible thing in the world. Take away the hot sex, and he was still someone whose company I enjoyed, assuming the Nate I had met on vacation was the same Nate whose real world had just collided with mine. I wouldn't judge; I had been a different Emory down there, too.
Well, I'd probably judge a little.
"I think I'd be okay with that," I said after a while.
"Cool," Nate said, and we shared a little grin of understanding.
We were starting over, starting at the point we would have before, had we been normal people who'd met under normal circumstances. Being friends would be fine; it'd be great. And if that turned into something different as we went along, well, I'd panic at that bridge when I came to it.
We talked about him moving his business up here, and about places around our neighborhood that were recommended and not, all wide, open spaces of impersonal dialogue we could just as easily have had with someone we'd never met before. It was odd doing this with him. We'd pretty much skipped this part before; it felt like I had checked out the ending of a book first to see if I liked it before starting on Chapter One -- which some people consider cheating, going straight to the end first, but sometimes it's nice knowing in which general direction you're headed. There are so few circumstances that even allow it.
"So, um," Nate said, after a brief lull in our conversation, one finger describing the smooth, ceramic rim of his
I shook my head, confounded by the question, among other things. "I don't know, I could check?" I said, ludicrous and wheeling off in some distant universe where this wasn't actually happening.
"I really didn't think I'd ever see you again. But then there you were. And I said to myself, 'Self,'" Nate said, the restiveness on his face giving way to something softer as he tentatively held my gaze, "'if you don't invite him out for coffee you'll regret it forever.' So I did."
The rules of conversation, curse whoever invented them, required that I respond in some fashion, though what that fashion was I had no clue.
"I'm glad you did," I said, surprising myself. To prevent the conversation taking a mawkish turn, I barreled on with a jaunty, "So, if not to stalk me, then what made you decide to move here?"
"Well, with the divorce and all, Julie's got her hands really full, so I thought I'd come and help out, especially since I can make my own schedule. I've been wanting a change for a while anyway; I wasn't that happy in San Francisco."
Oh, San Francisco, that's where he was from. Cross that off the checklist.
"You guys are close, huh?"
He nodded, smiling. "She gets me. She, uh..." he said, trailing off with a little reticence in his voice, not entirely sure he wanted to say what he'd been about to say. He looked at me for a moment, deciding. "I came out to my parents when I was sixteen. They were pretty... not okay with it, but Julie was always on my side. She got me through a tough time. So now it's my turn to get her through."
It was a hard fight not to reach out and touch him then, to ease some of the tightness out of his shoulders.
Coming out to your parents. What was that like? Not a barrel of monkeys, I'd imagine.
"So, yeah," Nate said, rallying. "Here I am."
"You liking it here so far?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah, it's cool. I really like my neighborhood; it's up north a bit, in Edgewater, and I'm pretty close to the lake," he said, "right on Granville and Kenmore."
I stared into the placid surface of my black coffee, and my gently undulating reflection showed me a face fixed in incredulity. "I live four blocks from there," I said.
Was this fate? If so, fate really needed to tone it down a notch or four thousand.
Nate's eyebrows knitted together. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said. "This is weird."
Nate agreed. "I guess maybe we're destined to be friends, huh?"
It wouldn't be the most terrible thing in the world. Take away the hot sex, and he was still someone whose company I enjoyed, assuming the Nate I had met on vacation was the same Nate whose real world had just collided with mine. I wouldn't judge; I had been a different Emory down there, too.
Well, I'd probably judge a little.
"I think I'd be okay with that," I said after a while.
"Cool," Nate said, and we shared a little grin of understanding.
We were starting over, starting at the point we would have before, had we been normal people who'd met under normal circumstances. Being friends would be fine; it'd be great. And if that turned into something different as we went along, well, I'd panic at that bridge when I came to it.
We talked about him moving his business up here, and about places around our neighborhood that were recommended and not, all wide, open spaces of impersonal dialogue we could just as easily have had with someone we'd never met before. It was odd doing this with him. We'd pretty much skipped this part before; it felt like I had checked out the ending of a book first to see if I liked it before starting on Chapter One -- which some people consider cheating, going straight to the end first, but sometimes it's nice knowing in which general direction you're headed. There are so few circumstances that even allow it.
"So, um," Nate said, after a brief lull in our conversation, one finger describing the smooth, ceramic rim of his
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