John Campbell

I preferred the solitude of my cubicle to the open work area that my employer offered as an alternative. I found the noise and movement to be not only distracting but sometimes uncomfortable almost to the point of painful, although just this side of that point. I avoided all social gatherings whenever possible. That seemed to irritate my direct supervisor, Emily Holliman. She told me earlier in the day that she needed to speak to me. Other than giving me assignments, the only time she talked to me was to try to convince me to come to some social event.

I got through my morning with no disruptions. For lunch, I headed to the roof. A small bench with an overhang for shade was a favorite hiding spot for me. I ate my chicken salad and drank my Ozarka water with no one to nod at me. After finishing, I hoped to make it back to my station without being hassled. Luck was not on my side, and she trapped me as I walked past the vending machine area.

“Zack, Zack, I’m glad I ran into you.”

“It’s Zachariah, Emily.” I hated being called Zack.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Look, my cousin Roger is having a cook-out this Saturday. Someone is coming who I want you to meet.”

“Whom.”

She rolled her eyes. “I won’t take no for an answer. Don’t bother telling me you have plans because I don’t care about your pretend plans. I’ve already emailed you the address and time.”

I was already pissed. Not only was she being pushy about my attending, but she was trying to fix me up. I decided to put her in her place. “It’s very nice of you to be so concerned about my personal life, but I don’t date women.”

“What? Well, everyone knows that. You’re gay for goodness sakes. Did you think I had a woman for you to meet? It’s a guy, and he’s cute. So, be there.” She turned and walked away.

I went back to my desk. I wasn’t sure whether I was more upset at the way she ordered me to be there or that she knew I was gay. I had told no one at work. It was none of their business. I opened my email program. The address and time were there as promised. I decided to go and make sure that no one ever wanted me to attend another.

Even with my plan, I dreaded the approaching weekend. I began to doubt whether I should act in a way that would guarantee I’d never be invited to another event. After all, it wasn’t Roger’s fault that I was harassed. I’d be the one who looked like an asshole. I decided to make the best of things, and I emailed a question about the appropriate attire for the cook-out.

Arriving about twenty minutes late because I had picked a route with a road that was closed for repairs, I walked up to the house in cargo shorts and a loose t-shirt. I was told to bring a suit if I wanted to swim, but I had decided to smile, mingle, eat, and go home. Sorry, but the guy you want to fix me with is just not my type. I took a deep breath and knocked.

A giggly young woman named Yvette answered the door. She told me that everyone was out at the pool; she pointed to a well-stocked bar. “Make yourself something and then come out.” She disappeared down a hallway.

I noticed a young man on a couch; he was pretty attractive, so I assumed he was the man Emily was talking about. I went over and introduced myself. “Hi. I’m Zachary Edwards.”

He looked up at me. He didn’t smile. He didn’t get up, but he extended his hand. “John Campbell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I shook his hand; it was a firm grip. I got a good look at his face as I released his hand and sat in a chair that was oriented at a ninety-degree angle to the sofa in which he sat. His eyes were greyish-blue and large. He had paler than average skin, average-sized forehead, and short bangs. His hair was black with a little bit of grey at his temples. That seemed strange to me, as his face was youthful and I assessed his age about mid to late twenties.

I noticed that he didn’t have a drink. “Oh, can I get you something to drink? That girl, Yvette was her name, said I should fix myself something. I don’t usually drink, so I think I’ll just have a Coke with a touch of rum.” I stood up. “What can I get you?”

“Same thing you’re having. Thanks.”

I smiled at him, and he gave me a quick glimpse of a smile back. I glanced out to the patio, and I saw several people out there. They were laughing and smiling; they appeared to be enjoying themselves. I was glad I wasn’t out there with them. Most were wearing light-colored tops and shorts; some of them were in bathing suits. When I turned back around, I noticed that John was in jeans and a dark green polo shirt. He had on tan work boots, which looked out of place. I glanced down at my legs and sandals as I walked back to my chair.

Handing him his glass as I sat down, I said, “Cheers.”

He lifted the glass. “To your health.”

“To yours,” I nodded. The sip tasted good. The two of us sat without talking. The silence lasted several minutes.

“I’m not much of a talker,” said John.

I smiled again and looked at him. “I’m not either. I don’t like parties.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never liked groups of people. It’s difficult enough when I’m just with one.”

“Are you a loner, then?” he asked.

I looked down at the floor. “Yeah, I guess I am.” I looked back at him. I hadn’t noticed his strong jawline when I first sat down. I guess it was the angle. He was a truly attractive man.

“There you are, Zachary,” shrieked Emily. “I thought I’d have to fire you for not showing up to this meeting.” She laughed; it was more like a cackle. “Here’s the man I wanted you to meet.”

She presented a man who looked like a magazine model. From his dirty blonde perfect haircut down to his broad muscular shoulders. He was just the right amount of hair on his chest, his abs, his arms, and his legs. I had the sense by his posture that he combed his pubic hair every day. His smile revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. “Evan Rivers,” he said as he put out his hand.

I stood and shook it. I was a bit confused as I thought John was the man she wanted me to meet.

“You have a drink already, I see. So, are you ready for a party?” He leaned in and whispered. “You’re cute; we can slip into one of the bedrooms later and check each other out. I’m versatile.” He stepped back and grinned and then gave me a wink.

I wondered what Emily had told him about me, but he had already rubbed me the wrong way.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t fuck on the first date.”

Emily coughed.

Evan’s face had an angry look.

John smiled.

“That’s not what I was told,” he looked over at Emily.

I sat back down.

Evan looked back at me. “You’re staying in here with him?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You’re welcome to have a seat and join us.”

“No. I got enough of Mr. Doesn’t Talk or Walk the last time I was here. Sorry, Emily. This is a bust, just like the setup with the soup man.” Evan headed for the door.

“Wait a minute, Evan,” I said. “Let me get this straight. You were told I’d be willing to fuck you today. And, you’ll stay if I go with you into the other room to fuck, but you won’t sit here with us and have a conversation to get to know each other better?”

“Fuck you, Edwards.” With that, he walked out.

Emily turned to me. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Did what? Refuse to fuck him?” I asked.

“At least gone with him to talk,” she snapped.

“I think I’ll go to HR on Monday and report you. You have harassed me for the last time. Today, you tried to get me to go with someone who just wants a fuck partner.”

“That’s not what…”

“That’s how I see it,” I said.

“It sure looked like that to me,” said John.

I relaxed back in my chair. “Thanks,” I said.

John smiled again. I liked him, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Emily.

Another man came in from the patio. “Hey, John. Cheeseburger and a hot dog, like last time?”

“Yeah, thanks,” replied John. “Hey, where’s Eric?”

“He left to get his girlfriend. Why? Are you ready to leave?”

“No. I’m fine. Just asking, he’s usually a mother hen. Hey, could you bring something for Zachary?”

“Of course,” answered Roger.

Emily huffed and went onto the patio.

“What can I get you, Zachary?”

“Same thing that John’s having, thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Roger headed back out.

I turned back to John. “He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, both him and his brother Eric are really good people.”

The grammar mistake grated on my ear, but I said nothing. “I like you, John. Are you a nice guy, too?” I smiled.

“Not always.” A cloud of sadness came over him. “I’ve been a real bastard to people who’ve just tried to help me, including Eric.”

“Well, you've been nicer to me in the past thirty minutes than anyone I can think of in the past ten years.”

“You didn’t deserve what she did. She tried to fix me up with him last month. He’s an asshole. I’m glad you didn’t leave with him.”

Something made me want to tell him things that I’d kept secret from everyone. “I’m a virgin, John. I’ve never had a second date. I don’t like most people, and they don’t seem to like me either.”

“I like you,” said John. “You’re not looking for a hook-up. Sounds like you’re not looking for anything, but I think you may have found a friend. At least I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

Roger came in with some huge burgers with a hot dog on the side. I wondered whether the dogs were kosher, but for the second time that day, I didn’t say anything. My high school counselor would have been proud of me.

When we finished the main course, Roger brought us some homemade ice cream. It was good, but I’ve never been an ice cream lover. Pastries and pies were more my thing. John ate his ice cream with neither a positive nor a negative comment. I liked his quiet, his calm. I wondered if he’d like to spend time with me, do the things friends do, the kind of things I never liked to do with people. I wanted to tell him what I was thinking, but I was embarrassed.

“What are you thinking?” John asked.

Crap, I thought, can he tell what I’m thinking?

“You guys need anything,” asked Roger.

I jumped a little; I hadn’t noticed that he had come back in.

“Eric texted me, he wants to come to get you and take you home. I’m sure it has something to do with that bitch Sandy. Oh, you didn’t hear me say that,” Roger chuckled.

“I don’t want to go home, yet,” said John. He looked over at me.

“I can take you home when you’re ready,” I told him.

Roger got a funny look on his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I looked over at John; I had a puzzled look on my face. “I don’t understand. Why is it not a good idea?”

“I can take you home when you’re ready,” said Roger. He turned and went back outside.

“John?”

John looked at me; I saw a tenseness in his face. “I still have trouble walking.”

Recovering from a broken leg or a torn muscle or ligament? That shouldn’t be a big deal. “So? I can’t help you with that?”

John looked away from me. “I’m sure you could. It’s just that…” He shook his head a little.

“What the hell, John? I thought we were becoming friends. You were making my heart skip a few beats, as it were. And now you don’t want me to take you home because you have trouble walking?” I stood up.

“I guess I wanted to get to know you better before I told you,” said John. “I… I don’t have legs.”

The reality behind what he said just didn’t register with me, and I started to speak without putting any thought into my words. “So those pants are empty? And your shoes, are there no feet in there either?” I reached down and squeezed his pant leg. I felt a metal rod. Shit.

I sat down next to him, and my eyes misted. “Oh, John.” I realized that I had just fucked up any chance I had with this guy. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I like you so much, and now I’ve fucked everything up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re never going to want to go out with a dickhead like me.” Tears filled my eyes. I felt like an idiot, and I felt like a big baby for crying.

“That’s not true. Now I want to go out with you even more than I did ten minutes ago.” John smiled at me.

I continued to look at him.

“Don’t you get it?” asked John. “You care about things; you’re not just a guy looking for a hole or looking for a dick for your hole. You’re upset because you think you’ve offended me. You haven’t. Maybe I should have told you, but that’s not something I can change now. All I know is that I really need to piss, and I need you to help me to the bathroom.” He smiled at me.

“Of course,” I smiled back, and I wiped my cheeks. How could I be such a pussy? And how could he be so forgiving? “What do I need to do?”

“First, I need my crutches. They’re under the couch.”

I reached under and pulled two crutches and several dust bunnies from below our seat.

“Let me get my arms into them. I’m terrible at getting up from a seated position. My therapist says I’ll get better when I figure out my center of gravity and how to use it. Put your arm under my armpit so it doesn’t interfere with my crutch, and as I lean forward, help me get momentum so I can stand.”

I positioned myself; John adjusted his crutches. As he moved forward, I pivoted. It didn’t seem that I had to do much to help him up. He wobbled slightly and then stood in front of me.

“Just walk with me to the bathroom in case I get unsteady. Getting on and off the toilet has also been inconsistent for me. I’m not sure why.”

“I’m here if you need help.”

“There’s something else that I need to tell you.”

“Do you need me to help you undo your pants?” I asked.

“Well, honestly, that would make it easier for me, but I can usually get them myself,” he said as he fought a slight smile from becoming a laugh.

“I’d be thrilled to help you. Or is that I’d get a thrill from helping you.”

We were at the bathroom door. I stood close to him. “John, I do like you. You’ll let me know if I do anything that upsets or offends you, won’t you?”

“Just be yourself, Zack. Don’t tiptoe around me.” John began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t tiptoe around you.” He laughed. “I mean, I really can’t.”

“OK. If you… Oh. I get it. You’re quite witty, Twinkle Toes.”

John stopped laughing. He pushed his face against mine and kissed me.

I kissed back, and a song popped into my head. In a low voice, I semi sang, “Then I walked him home that night; all the stars were shining bright, and then he kissed me.”

John whispered back, “He kissed me in a way that I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Kissed me in a way that I want to be kissed forevermore.” I reached up and ran my fingers across his temple.

“Before we go in, I want you to know that I had some other injuries besides losing my legs.”

“Are you worried that they’ll make me change my mind about you?”

“Honestly, Zack, no. I think you’ve judged me based on my character not on my physical attributes. I just don’t want you to be surprised.”

“So tell me.”

“I have a big scar across one of my ass cheeks. The left one.”

I already knew him well enough to know that the ass scar was just leading up to a bigger announcement.

“Shrapnel pierced my scrotum and damaged one of my testicles…” He paused. There was more.

I didn’t react. Lots of men have only one ball. Many men behave as though they have no balls. My mind raced. I told myself to wait until he said it, but I imagined that I was falling in love with a man with no penis.