Next Time I Fall

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“How fun!” Eric waved both hands outward, palms up, gesturing toward his friend. “It’s very cute and summery.”

“You like?” Kathleen twirled in place as she pulled the fabric of her skirt away from her body then took a couple of runway model steps across the kitchen.

Eric stepped up to her and kissed her on the side of the mouth, a quick, chaste, just-to-be-social display of affection. “Thank you for doing this.” He blinked a couple times and frowned. “I’m so not looking forward to this dinner party.”

“Oh honey, it’s my pleasure, but since when did you dread Richard and Gary’s dinner parties? I thought you always enjoyed dishing with the guys…I mean, girls.”

“I do, I do. It’s just…well, there’s gonna be a million questions. You know how they are. They’re all going to ask about Max, and I don’t know what to say.” He stepped back and self-consciously smoothed out the fabric of his shirt he’d just finished ironing.

“Don’t be silly. Everybody loves you, and the only reason any of them ever said a single thing about Max was because they all were insanely jealous.”

“Exactly! And now that he’s gone, they’ll hardly be able to contain their glee. Gay men can be such f*****g bitches. Every one of them used to flirt with him right in front of me. Especially Paul.”

“Oh, Paul’s an ass. Jaded—very jaded. He’s just a jealous old queen.”

“He’s the same age as me.”

“And looks at least one or two decades older. Trust me.”

Eric smiled then leaned in to kiss her once more, this time on the cheek but with more affection. “You always know just what to say.”

Kathleen was probably Eric’s closet friend. She’d certainly been in his life longer than anyone else and felt more like a sister to him than a companion. Though he’d never use the term to describe her, he knew she was his fag hag. She also was full of s**t. Paul was a strikingly handsome man and he knew it. Only his conceit and overconfidence made him seem ugly. He had a way of stating things in a condescending manner but with just enough sarcasm to give him deniability if anyone became offended.

Truth be told, the guys in Richard and Gary’s circle of friends had all been intrigued by Eric’s relationship with Max. There was no question that this young man who refused to label himself gay appealed to each of their wildest fantasies. It undoubtedly irritated them all to a degree that he “belonged to” Eric. Max would often attend gay functions and gatherings as Eric’s guest, and he neither confirmed nor denied their assumptions that he and Eric were a couple. He just did what he did—very Max in his behavior. He flirted. He teased. He tormented.

“It’s none of their business anyway, and you don’t even have to tell them Max left.” Kathleen opened the refrigerator. “You can just tell them he’s out of town…or that he had other plans. Oh God, you made cheesecake!” She removed the dish from the shelf, peeling back the overlay to smell it.

“I can’t keep it a secret forever. They’ll eventually find out. Please don’t put your finger in—” Eric sighed then rushed over to the silverware drawer for a knife.

“Oh, this is so good!” Kathleen licked her finger.

“Give that to me!” He snatched the cheesecake from her grasp and expertly smoothed out the molested section with his knife. After carefully re-covering it, he licked the knife on both sides and placed it in the sink. “I’m just going to bite the bullet and tell them. I mean, seriously, why should I lie? We all knew he’d leave one day.”

“Honey, you deserve someone so much better than Max. You deserve someone who loves you the same way you love him.” She took the pie plate from him and placed it on the counter, then pulled him into a hug. “And he’s out there. I know he is…just waiting for you.” She pulled back, holding Eric at shoulder length as she looked him in the eye. She then turned slightly to look down at the pooch who stared up, probably hoping for a bite of cheesecake. “Isn’t that right, Drake?”

The Labrador wagged his tail and stared up at Eric. “No,” Eric said, then laughed. “She didn’t say you could have cheesecake. But I guess you can have a treat before we leave you alone for the next three hours.”

“Does he need to go out before we leave?” Kathleen stepped over toward the front door.

“I just took him out before you got here.”

Drake, excited by the words “treat” and “out” practically in the same sentence, began to prance.

“What’s this? You’re going to church now?” Kathleen reached down and picked up the vacation Bible school flyer from the console table by the front door.

Eric laughed. “Yeah right. No, these guys were here earlier from that church—going door-to-door.”

“You mean like Mormons?”

Eric shrugged, then retrieved the dog biscuits from atop the fridge. “I guess. They weren’t Mormons, though. They were Baptists. They invited me to their services, and Drake really liked the one guy. Didn’t ya, Drake? You liked the one with the cute little butt.”

Kathleen giggled. “Well, were they missionaries or something? Would that mean if you did it with them, you’d only be able to use the missionary position?”

Eric cracked up. “Shut up! You really are trying to get God to strike you dead with a lightning bolt, aren’t you? They were preachers.”

“You’re the one who said the one had a sweet ass.”

“Uh, no. That’s not what I said. I said Drake liked him.” He held out the dog treat, and Drake snatched it from his hand. He looked up at the kitchen wall clock just as he heard the sound of a car horn outside. “Oh s**t! That’s our Uber! Grab that bottle of wine from the counter, and I’ll get the cheesecake. s**t, where’s my phone? And my wallet!”

Kathleen picked up the wine and the cheesecake while Eric scurried around finding his wallet and phone. “Drake, I’m not putting you in the kennel because I know you’re going to be good. Right? Drake! I’m talking to you. You’re gonna be good, right? No chewing the sofa cushions.” He leaned down and kissed his pooch on the head. “And no potty on the floor. You just went out so you should be fine.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Steve’s tiny two-bedroom, single-story home belonged to the church and was located right next door to the senior pastor’s much nicer split-level, Tudor style home, also owned by the church. With his modest salary, Steve genuinely appreciated the free room and board, and to be honest, it was about the nicest house he’d ever lived in, in spite of its size.

His folks had both worked hard all their lives, but they weren’t exactly what you’d call upper middle class. He wasn’t even sure if they were even middle class. His dad worked as a mechanic, and his mother mostly focused on raising four boys and worked occasional housekeeping jobs for extra money. Steve was the baby of the family, very close to his mom, and deeply religious his entire life.

He’d accepted Christ as his savior back in pre-school during vacation Bible school at his mom’s church. She, being a woman of faith, required her sons attend Sunday school and church every week up until the kids each reached their age of accountability. Once they started middle school, she let them choose for themselves. With her first three, they all quit attending as soon as it no longer was mandatory, but Steve never quit. He’d known he was going to be a pastor since the first grade when his teacher had each student draw a picture of what they wanted to be when they grew up.

As he sat at his small, round kitchen table, preparing Sunday school lesson plans and re-reading his evening-worship sermon, his bulldog Felix lay at his feet. He and Felix had been together since Steve’s teenage years. Though it nearly killed Steve to leave the dog behind when he went away to Bible college, Felix had fared well in the loving environment of Steve’s parents’ home. As soon as Steve graduated and moved back home, he and Felix were reunited, and it felt almost as if they’d never been apart.

“You smell that other dog on me, don’t ya.” He reached down to pet Felix as he sniffed Steve’s pant leg. “I bet you two would become fast friends. Drake’s very friendly. Doesn’t seem as lazy as you, though.” Felix didn’t seem the least bit insulted and, in fact, rose on his hind legs, resting his paws against Steve’s outer thigh. “His owner seems friendly too, but I didn’t catch his name. He’s tall and slender with medium-brown hair…and rather broad shoulders…” He sighed as he continued to pet Felix. “And has about the most striking smile I’ve ever seen. And he has very dark, almost like milk chocolate, brown eyes.”

Felix stared up at him as if hanging on every word.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. This is different. It’s not like with Barry. And, by the way, there’s nothing wrong with a man noticing that another man is decent looking. It’s not like…you know…sinful or anything. I just noticed, and that’s all. Like if I’m watching TV or looking at a magazine and I see someone who dresses sharp or has a certain look I find interesting, there’s nothing wrong with me noticing. Right?”

As Felix opened his mouth to pant, he seemed to be smiling. Steve took it as an expression of agreement.

“Exactly. And as for that other stuff…the feelings and stuff, well, God and me are working on it. That’s between him and me. It’s probably just a test, like Jesus was tempted in the wilderness.”

Felix’s expression grew somber as he stared up into his master’s face. Slowly he pulled away, lowering himself back to Steve’s feet where he repositioned himself prostrate.

“It’s not my fault, Felix! I tried to help him. I even went to the dean of students on Barry’s behalf, but they wouldn’t listen. And…and if I’d pushed it any further, you know what would’ve happened. They’d have kicked me out, too. I’d have lost everything, all that I’ve worked for my whole life.”

Felix now looked away, not even willing to make eye contact.

“It’s like the dean told me. They had to make an example of Barry for the sake of the school. They had to stand up for what was right, for God’s word. Even though it seemed at the time like they were not showing any love to Barry, they were showing tremendous love to God and to the ministry…and that’s what’s important.”

He took another deep breath before pulling his Bible closer to him. “Sometimes things just don’t make sense, and you’ve just got to trust the Lord.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Salt-baked leg of lamb with olive oil potatoes and prosciutto wrapped asparagus comprised the dish before Eric. Alongside him, Kathleen dined on her vegan alternative plate of celery root and mushroom lasagna. Each was served with an extra helping of pretentiousness that wasn’t lost on any of the eight upscale guests gathered at Richard and Gary’s “summer cottage”.

To Eric, it was anything but a cottage. More like a mansion, but they called it a cottage to denote that it wasn’t their primary residence. It was one of their go-to places, a summer getaway they used mainly to entertain friends and colleagues. Eric had been included in the guest list for two reasons. One: Gary and Richard were his clients—he was one of their accountants—and Two: he was gay. Though he’d done okay for himself and by no means struggled financially, his three-story condo within one of the suburb’s more prestigious property associations, was quite modest compared to the homes of his peers.

After the meal, some of the guests sipped from their cocktails of Usquaebach scotch and Beluga Russian vodka, chit-chatting about recent events while a few indulged in dessert, including the homemade cheesecake Eric had prepared. Eric elected to have coffee and dessert.

“Whatever happened to your young man, the artist…I forget his name?” Paul sat directly across the table, tilting his head slightly to the right as he offered a smug grin.

“Max,” Eric said while plunging his fork into his wedge of cheesecake. “He just left for California.”

“Ah…a vacation. What part of the state? I have some property in Point Loma.”

“No, I believe he’s in San Francisco, and it’s not a vacation. He moved there…to pursue a new life.”

Paul’s smug grin broadened into a smile, just briefly, then his expression sobered. “Oh, what a pity. You must be just devastated.”

“Did he get a job offer?” Richard, ever the diplomat, interjected himself into the exchange.

“Uh, sort of. He met someone.” Eric raised his napkin to his lips, daintily wiping the corners of his mouth. “Sorry, this is good, if I do say so myself. Cheesecake’s my downfall—my vice.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Dwayne, who sat to Eric’s left, leaned toward him. “It looks so good, but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m counting carbs now.” Eric looked at the one-hundred pound women’s shoe designer and smiled.

“Thank you…and…um…no problem.”

“That Maxwell, he reminds me of one of my former clients,” Paul continued. “A troubled young man named Frederick I counseled on and off for a few months. Gorgeous. Just an absolute delight to look at, but no goals, no ambition, no plan. He never amounted to anything.”

Eric clenched his jaw then took a sip of his coffee. “Max isn’t like that.”

“Oh, I assure you, I know the type. As a licensed psychologist, I’ve observed all kinds, and Maxwell and Frederick could be twins.”

Eric felt Kathleen’s hand on his wrist, gently squeezing. He turned to her briefly, then looked back to Paul. “No, Paul, you really don’t know what you’re talking about. The only times you ever even saw Max—which is his name—he hates “Maxwell”—were the couple of times I brought him here. You have no idea what type of person he is or how much ambition he has. I happen to be proud of him for following his dreams and striking out on his own, taking a chance. It’s very brave of him.”

Paul raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. “Seems I may have struck a nerve. I apologize.”

“You didn’t strike a f*****g nerve. You made another one of your asshole judgement remarks based on psychobabble bullshit.” He threw his napkin onto the table as gasps erupted from the other guests. “I’ll take some of that scotch please, Richard.”

“I think I’ll head out to the veranda for my after-dinner cigar,” Paul said haughtily, straightening his posture before pushing up from his chair. He didn’t even look over to Eric. Several others at the table looked down, smiling.

“I’m sorry, Gary,” Eric whispered after Paul had left the room. “And Richard. I didn’t mean to ruin your party.”

“Ruin?” Gary stood up and began clearing plates. “Oh honey, you’re the entertainment! We’ve all been waiting forever for someone to put that pompous windbag in his place. I’m truly sorry about Max, though.” He smiled wanly, an interesting expression of both happiness and pity.