His Roommate's Friend

I sat on my new bed and stared at my new TV. I thought about turning it on, but I wasn’t interested in watching anything. The only books I had were textbooks; I did have a few in my kindle app, but I didn’t want to get my computer and I didn’t want to read on my phone. I closed my eyes, but sleep did not come. I grabbed my phone and signed up for a Grindr account. I took several selfies, but I wasn’t happy with any of them. I looked like a tall, skinny grump.

Getting up, I decided to take a shower. Some relaxation would help. I thought about taking pictures of myself while still wet. The hot water felt great, and I did feel more relaxed. I took some more selfies, toweled myself dry, took some more, put my underwear on, and took some more.

I stepped out into my combination living/dining/kitchen/bedroom still in just my underwear. I decided to pour a small bowl of cereal and have a small bite to eat while I decided which picture to use in my profile. I sat down and started flipping through my pictures. There were two that I knew that Andrew would have loved. Maybe I should send them to him.

No. No. No. He was only interested in my hole and my dick. Friends with benefits. Fucking and getting fucked. It was good sex, but maybe it was good for me because of how I cared about him. He liked it because I knew what I was doing.

My phone dinged. The message was from Andrew. “We arrived safely. My father surprised me; he’s already bought me a small condo in Manhattan not too far from my job. Let me know when you can come to visit.”

I sent him one of the pictures I took while I was still wet from the shower. Then I turned my phone off. I crawled under the covers and daydreamed that I met a wonderfully handsome man at work.

On Saturday, I walked around my neighborhood as I got my bearings in my new neighborhood. On Sunday, I stopped in at the local Half-Priced Books. I decided to search for a hobby. I spent a few hours in that store, but nothing really grabbed me. I bought a discounted copy of “Singing in the Rain.” I walked into a MacDonald’s on my way back home and ordered some fries and a Coke.

I inserted the disc into my computer when I got home. I broadcast it to my TV. I got comfortable in the bed, and before I hit play, I was asleep. I was glad I’d already set the alarm on the stove and my phone. No one wants to be late on the first day of work, and I walked up to the door fifteen minutes early. I went inside and up to the fourth floor. Eight hours later I was walking out with a laptop and a stack of papers to review and sign. I met two members of my department. Weekly meetings were on Tuesday at ten a.m. Unless we had emergency meetings, I could work from home as long as my assignments were completed on time and I attended the weekly meeting. I spent my evening going over the paperwork and making sure I understood my first assignment. I was still able to go to bed at my designated eleven o’clock time.

The next day, I turned in my paperwork and was busy reading through the prospectus on the project my team had already begun to work on. The conversion of a database system maintained by programs written in COBOL was changing to an SQL database where off-site clients would have secure access through browsers. The team had done it before, but each case had its quirks that could spell disaster if things were handled correctly.

During the meeting, after the introductions, the team leader, a woman who was probably in her early forties, apologized for handing me the mundane tasks of writing methods that would verify that all dates were correctly formatted and produce a log of any which would need to be individually examined. I was also assigned to write a routine that properly formatted names according to the company's newest protocols. While the team leader may have found them to be mundane, I certainly didn’t.

As team members verbally reported their current progress, I took the time to evaluate everyone at the table. I figured that my co-workers would either be colleagues, friends, or potential romantic interests. Only two people in the room struck me as having the potential to interest me romantically.

One of them, a rather striking man with blonde hair who appeared to be in his late twenties to early thirties had a deep, sexy voice when he spoke. He also had a wedding band that I hadn’t noticed until he got up to write something on the whiteboard.

The other, a man named Sydney, had been hired that January. He appeared to be just a little older than I was, and he smiled a lot. He knew a lot of security terms, and I didn’t understand his two-sentence update. I thought asking him to explain it would allow me to find out whether he might be date-worthy. I didn’t find him attractive, but personality and intelligence are also factors.

When the meeting concluded, I walked over to Sydney. I planned to ask for an explanation of what he was doing, find out how friendly he was, and possibly ask him to join me for lunch.

“Hi, Sydney. Joseph Harkess. I had a few questions for you.”

“Hi, Joseph.” He stood up, all five feet two inches of him. “Welcome to the team.” He put out his hand and I put out mine. It felt as if I were shaking hands with a ten-year-old.

“I wasn’t clear on what you’re doing. I thought that at some point in the future, when you have the time, that you might fill me in.”

“I’ll tell you what. I have a book in my cubicle. Promise to bring it back when you’ve read it, and I’ll loan it to you.”

“I’d love to read it,” I told him.

Sydney walked over to his desk and retrieved it. There would be no problem remembering that it was his book. His name was written on the top, bottom, and outside edges of the book as well as the cover, the back, and several pages inside. Grommet must have been his last name. I put the book in my bag. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” He turned and walked away, and I was actually glad that he did.

I stopped for a mushroom and swiss burger at What-a-Burger, and as I munched on the French fries, I reminded myself that I should only stop at one of the fast-food places on Tuesday. I needed to make myself a simple lunch and supper on the days I worked from home. I didn’t need to gain a lot of weight from laziness.

That afternoon, I examined the protocols I needed to use. I wrote things out as I anticipated doing them, I read a chapter of the book Sydney Grommet had loaned me. I prepped a piece of chicken for my dinner, and as I made some tea, I read a note from Andrew.

The text came in just before the water had come to a boil.

“How’s work? Mine’s not what I expected. Everyone keeps saying how tall I am. I spent today trying to fix a photocopier. I’m not allowed to say Xerox machine. When can you come to visit?”

“Everyone at work is nice. I only go into the office one day a week. So far I like it.” I hit send and ate my chicken.

On Friday, Stuart came over, and we went to the Aransas, a fancy seafood restaurant. He had Chilean bass, and I had sauteed scallops with asparagus. We did a lot of small talk and he wanted to hear about my job. I kept thinking that I could make the scallops myself for a whole lot less.

After dinner, we went back to my place and sipped on some white wine that he’d brought with him. He admitted that Janet was trying to get him to commit to marriage, but he thought he’d be happier with Roger. Then he laughed.

“I’ve tried the gay thing, you know, and I’ve tried the straight thing. I just want to have what I thought you had with Andrew.”

“Which is nothing but friendship with some sex,” I said.

“He knew I was having dinner with you, you know. He asked me to ask you why you haven’t told him when you’re going to see him. I think he’s lonely.”

“He should have stayed here where he has friends,” I said.

“You know that he couldn’t do that, right? He had to go work for his father; otherwise, he would have lost his trust fund.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And he would have had to pay back all the money spent while he was here at school. Didn’t he tell you any of this?”

“Not a word.”

“Go see him, Joseph. Why not go next weekend? You can fly up on Friday and come back Sunday night.”

I knew Stuart would not let this go, so I agreed. We logged on and made reservations. I didn’t have a credit card yet, so Stuart used his and I wrote him a check. I figured that I’d at least get a nice evening of fucking out of it.

“You know, Joseph. I think I might need to take an Uber home. I’ve had too much wine.”

“Don’t waste your money. The bed’s big enough for both of us,” I laughed; I’m not sure why.

“Finally inviting me into your bed after living together for a year,” Stuart giggled.

“Don’t get any ideas. We’re both drunk, and you know I’m in love with Andrew.” It was the first time I’d said it aloud and knew that I meant it. “Fuck!”

“You’ll tell him when you see him,” Stuart was nodding like a bobblehead.

“He’s only interested in friendship.”

“That’s what you’ve said. That’s what he’s said.”

“Well, fuck him.” I swallowed the last of the wine.

“You’ve done that, and I think you know it’s more than just fucking. I’ve seen you two when you were wrapped around each other while studying. I didn’t see two guys who just enjoyed fucking one another.”

I looked Stuart straight in the eyes. “Yeah? Well…” I started to cry.

Stuart wrapped his arms around me. “Let’s sleep. Come on. You get on the bed; I’ll turn out the lights.”

In the morning, actually, it was fifteen after twelve, I woke up. I tried to check my phone, but I hadn’t recharged it. I plugged it in and went into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and showered. My head was throbbing. One bottle of wine can really mess up one’s head. I wasn’t used to it. My phone began to bing as I prepared a chicken salad sandwich.

From Stuart: “I let you sleep. Thanks for the great evening. Let me know if you want me to take you to the airport. I gave Andrew your flight info. He’s excited.”

From Andrew: “Got info from Stu. Excited. Will be at baggage claim. Can’t wait.

As for me, I didn’t want to wait either. I wanted it over with. Each day brought a bigger knot in my stomach. I kept telling myself that I was nervous about flying. I’d never flown before, so Friday, when Stuart dropped me off, I gave him a big kiss goodbye as though I were never going to see him again. I followed the signs, checked my bag, and got through security quickly. I couldn’t believe the number of bags people took with them as carry-on.

At the gate, I was amazed at the size of the airplanes when they were right in front of me. They didn’t seem that big in the sky. My row was called and I boarded the plane. I had a window seat because Stuart said that would give me the best experience, plus, no one would expect me to get up on the way to the bathroom. I read the safety card, located my closest exit, and waited.

And waited.

I took out a bag of pine nuts I’d brought along as a snack and ate a couple. A woman across the aisle began to shriek and point at me. Flight attendants rushed over to her, and then one of them demanded that they had to confiscate my bag.

“What?”

“Sir, please, her child is allergic to peanuts.” The skinny flight attendant named Ellen shouted. “Hand over the bag.”

Phones were up all over as people began to video what was happening.

“These are pine nuts; they aren’t peanuts.”

“They’re fucking nuts,” screamed the woman.

“Don’t make me call security,” growled the flight attendant.

“Are you talking to me?” I paused. “Any high school biology student can tell you that there’s no correlation between peanuts and pine nuts. Peanuts aren’t even a nut.”

The phones continued to record.

“Give them the fucking nuts so we can get going,” shouted someone in the rear.

I handed the bag to the flight attendant.

I sat in my seat and seethed with anger. I kept taking deep breaths. This was my first time on a plane. The plane bounced out to the end of the runway. It was worse than the roller coaster ride that was set up each year in the Dollar General parking lot. I was surprised at how loud the engines got and how the plane seemed to shudder as it moved down the runway. I sank back in my seat, and I was amazed by the feeling as the plane’s nose moved up and we left the ground. The plane tilted from side to side as we moved farther from the ground. I had almost forgotten the earlier incident when a man in an airline uniform asked me if I wanted any pretzel sticks.

“I had a wonderfully nutritious snack that was confiscated by the SS officer,” I told him. “And now you want to offer me a bag of dry sticks? No, thank you. And thank her for making an indelible impression of your airline on my first airplane trip.”

“You know,” the man behind me said, “they were just looking out for the interests of that child.”

“That child’s safety was never endangered, unlike my rights to have a nice, peaceful trip.”

I looked out the window and stewed. This plane might as well have been filled with clones of my parents--people who wanted to control others because they could.

The plane landed on time at LaGuardia; we were early, so I let everyone get off the plane first. I walked up to the front. Ellen was standing next to one of the pilots and saying goodbye to the passengers as they deplaned. I walked up. She said nothing. I said, “You should be apologizing to me for the way you treated me, but I can tell by the look in your eye that you’ve already bragged to your friends about the incident.”

I waited a few seconds to give her a chance to respond. Her silence told me what kind of person she was. As I turned to leave, I said, “I’ll pray for your soul.”

I found my way to the baggage department. There weren’t that many people picking up bags. I guess most had taken them on the plane. I found my bag easily. I had also scanned the group on the other side of the barrier. I didn’t see Andrew. I knew he’d make me feel better about the experience on the plane. I found my way to an empty seat and waited.

And waited.

I texted him that I had arrived.

An hour later, I texted Stuart that I had arrived and hadn’t heard from Andrew.

I called his phone, and it went to voicemail.

Stuart texted back that he had tried to contact Andrew; he heard from Andrew as he left the office to come to get me.

Three hours later, with Andrew still not there and no message from him, I realized that he had chickened out. This wasn’t an example of crossed signals. I went to the ticket counter to find out about going back home. Fighting back the tears, I gave the ticket agent my ticket home and asked him if he could help me.

When he asked whether I was OK, I told him that I had flown here and had been stood up by the man I thought I wanted to marry.

“Men can be such children.” He whispered to me, “My boyfriend is an idiot, but I love him so much. Are you sure you want to go home?”

I nodded my head. He got me a ride on the next plane going home. I headed to the gate and gave Stuart my information. The flight home was uneventful. I texted Stuart after deplaning, and I made my way to the baggage area. After retrieving the bag, I walked outside to find him within easy walking distance from the door.

Darkness was beginning to settle on the area. “I cannot believe you didn’t stay.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stay in the airport all night?” I couldn’t believe that he wanted me to stay in New York with fifty dollars and no credit cards.

“I don’t understand what happened.”

“He broke my heart again is what happened. Fuck, Stuart. I love the guy. I want to live the rest of my life with him. How could he do this? Did you tell him that I was in love with him?”

Silence.

“You told him. He’s a fucking chicken.”

“No,” said Stuart.

“So when you told him, did he profess his undying love to me? He didn’t, did he.”

“No. He didn’t. He didn’t reply.” I heard Stuart take a deep breath and blow it out hard. We drove the rest of the way to my home without talking.

“I’ll come up and stay with you,” he said as he pulled into the apartment complex.”

“No, I need to be alone. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not worried about that. I just…”

“I’m going to have something to eat and watch a movie and maybe get a jump on my next assignment. I said goodbye and headed up the stairs, and once inside, I ordered two pizzas so I’d have something for breakfast. I took a hot shower and contemplated opening the door for the pizza man in just a towel. It seemed to work in the porn video I’d watched the week before. With my luck, I’d get an old lady as a delivery driver.

I put on some running shorts and poured myself an iced tea. When the doorbell rang, I realized I wasn’t wearing a t-shirt, but I figured it didn’t matter. I opened the door. The man in the doorway was smartly dressed, over six feet tall, and began to cry the moment I locked eyes with him.

“Jojo, I’m sorry. The subway broke down, and my phone died, and then I threw it down in frustration, and now it won’t work. I’ve missed you so much.” He continued to stand there. “Oh, Jojo, I love you.”

I grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him. “That was all you had to say, Tigerman.”

Sometimes admitting love is the most difficult part of a relationship, but it can also be the most rewarding. Joseph moved in with Andrew and flew back for his weekly meetings. Andrew fulfilled his obligations for his trust fund (which he would receive when he was 35). Together they developed cyber security software that they sold for $40 million when they were 29. Joseph because an award winning author, while Andrew wrote gay erotica that he posted on a website called gaydemon. They hope to adopt greyhounds when they settle down.