Next Time I Fall

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Steve and Felix walked from their house to Eric’s condo, arriving about twenty minutes prior to the designated meeting time. Steve stopped on the corner, a few feet from Eric’s home, and pulled out his cell phone.

“Oh shoot, Felix. We’re early.” His compulsive punctuality had plagued him all his life. He couldn’t help it. He was always so afraid of being late that he overcompensated. “I suppose we could walk around the block.” He looked down at his pooch who did not seem excited or agreeable to the suggestion. Boxers didn’t exactly relish exercise.

Steve sighed. “Oh, all right. We’ll wait on the porch a few minutes, but I’m not ringing the bell until at least five-to.”

He walked Felix up the sidewalk, and they made their way to Eric’s porch where Steve quietly took his seat. Not even ten seconds later, Drake appeared at the window, standing on his hind legs barking raucously. “Oh no.” If only Steve could shrink really small and crawl into a hole. He tried to motion for Drake to be quiet, but his gestures only managed to further excite the dog.

A couple minutes later the front door opened, and as Steve turned his head, his cheeks felt about as warm as a baked potato.

“Hey! You’re early.” A shirtless Eric stood with his face half-covered by shaving cream. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you quite yet. Come on in.”

“Oh…oh, I’m sorry. I know we’re early. I was just going to wait out here until…well, until seven, but I think Felix…or um…Drake…well, they spotted each other, ya know.”

“It’s cool, come on. Come inside. Help yourself to a drink while I finish getting ready. There’s a full pitcher of iced tea in the fridge…or anything else you’d like.” Steve followed him inside, then released Felix from his leash. He took off with Drake into the living room as Steve glanced up to Eric who now stood a few steps up the stairwell. “Please forgive me. I have this really bad habit of being late for everything.”

“Oh no, it’s my fault. I’m early. I have a bad habit, too. I’m always early.”

Eric laughed. “Hey, we’re good for each other, then. We balance each other out.”

Steve stared at the towel around Eric’s waist. Was he wearing anything at all? He quickly glanced away. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He forced an obligatory chuckle. “I’ll just…um…go ahead and get that glass of tea now.”

“Cool. I’ll be right down. Just give me ten minutes. You can watch TV if you want. The remote’s on the stand in the living room.”

“Thanks.”

Steve eased his way cautiously into the kitchen. Everything in this man’s house was so nice, and Steve wasn’t used to that kind of atmosphere. The marble countertops and hardwood floors looked like images Steve had only seen in magazines. And the refrigerator even had some sort of computer on the front of the door. He’d seen fridges that had the built-in ice makers, though his folks had never owned one, but he’d never even heard of computerized appliances.

He remembered from the other day the cupboard where Eric had retrieved glasses, and he opened the door, peering inside. Unlike Steve’s eclectic collection of mismatched glasses and dinnerware, Eric’s were a hundred percent coordinated. He reached in and removed a glass, then stepped over to the ice maker and stared at it a moment to figure out how to use it.

After he’d poured himself a refreshing glass of tea and savored his first sip, he stepped around the corner into a section of the condo he hadn’t yet seen. He took a few steps down the hallway, in awe of the artwork on the wall. He froze as he studied the series of prints, all obviously part of a set. There were three paintings, all of the same subject—two men. The first depicted a couple walking together on the beach. They weren’t holding hands, but almost. The picture showed neither of their faces as they were looking away, out toward the ocean with its roiling waves and an overcast sky. The man on the left carried two pairs of shoes, one pair in each hand, and his partner was trying to hold up an umbrella which was being blown unforgivingly by the strong wind.

The beauty of the image in its simplicity spoke a thousand words to Steve’s heart. There was so much suggested about who these men were, yet not quite stated. They had to be a couple, right? They were facing an incoming storm but not particularly troubled by it.

The second painting portrayed what might be the same couple, but maybe not. Again, they were drawn from behind. This time they sat on an embankment, perhaps a boardwalk, overlooking the ocean. The overcast sky was clearing, and the sun had begun to break through the clouds. Steve blinked, his eyes inexplicably moist with tears. He quickly looked away for a moment, and then took a step down the hall to the third painting.

The final couple sat at what appeared to be a kitchen table. The stark background offered no clue, just a solid-colored gray wall. Both were dressed in only their underwear, and one was eating a bowl of breakfast cereal. His partner sat beside him, elbows on the table perhaps watching him eat, perhaps conversing with him.

Steve took a deep breath and it caught in his throat. When he heard movement behind him, he quickly spun around.

“Are you a Steve Walker fan?”

“Huh?” Steve stared at Eric, now fully dressed and sharper than Steve had ever seen him. He almost said as much, but instead just stood there with his mouth partially open.

“Steve Walker is the artist—a contemporary illustrator and painter from Canada.”

“They’re amazing. I mean…well, I’m no authority. I know nothing of art, but…”

“They ask more questions than they answer.”

“Exactly!” Steve smiled.

“If you like art, we could go to a gallery sometime, or to the museum.”

“I’d like that.” He meant it. “But like I said, I’m no expert. My Bible college didn’t offer a class in art history.”

“Oh really?” Eric laughed. “Well my college didn’t teach eschatology or hermeneutics.”

Most people wouldn’t even know the meaning of those words. Steve was impressed. “Well, not to brag, but I aced both those classes.”

“Kinda figured.” This time they laughed together. “I should probably take Drake out before we leave. He and Felix should be okay together inside while we’re gone, don’t you think?”

“I think so, unless you have a loose board in your wall he can push through.”

“Let’s hope not.” He smiled before turning toward the utility room at the end of the hall. He grabbed his leash off the hook. “Drake will love the company. He hates when I leave him alone.”

As soon as Eric had the leash in his hand, Drake rushed from the living room into the kitchen, wagging his tail frantically and began to prance. Felix, follower that he was, waddled in behind him, his own tail wagging lickety split.

“I might as well go out with you, even though Felix just came in.” He looked directly at his pup who panted as he stared up expectantly.

After taking the dogs out and getting them settled back inside, Eric walked over to Steve and looked him in the eye. “You look really good.”

“Thanks.” Should he return the compliment? He wouldn’t be lying. As he inhaled, the scent of Eric’s cologne once again appealed to him. Really, everything about the man fascinated Steve. In so many ways, he was the type of man Steve wanted to be himself—stylish, confident, intelligent.

“Shall we get going?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t told me where.”

“You said you like music and that you play piano?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you been to the dueling piano bar restaurant in Grand Rapids?”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. He couldn’t help himself. “No, but I’ve always kind of wanted to go there. Back in school, we weren’t allowed to go to places like that.”

“Restaurants? Really?”

Steve laughed. “If they were considered to be bars…”

“Well, geez. Even Applebees has a bar in it. A lot places do.” Eric seemed genuinely perplexed, and to be honest, it was kind of a crazy, hypocritical rule.

“I guess it’s kind of a judgment call. If they considered it to be a place people primarily went to for alcohol, they added it to their list.”

“Wow, that’s pretty strict. So they actually gave you a list of banned business you were required to boycott?” Eric picked his keys up from the stand.

Steve nodded. “We weren’t allowed to go to any of those business in that area. I think they just assumed it to be a bunch of ‘beer gardens’.” He raised his fingers to make air quotes. “That’s what they called bars.”

Eric bit his bottom lip, obviously to keep from laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“Cross my heart.”

“We have got to go to the bar together sometime, especially in that district.”

Steve quickly stiffened, fearing Eric was serious. He shook his head. “N-no. I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry but…I could lose my position at the church.”

Eric reached up and placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m just kidding. Of course I’m not going to take a minister to a g—uh…to a bar.”

“Oh…” Steve laughed. “Well, anyway, I do want to go to the piano-bar restaurant. We’ll just call it the piano restaurant.”

“We’ll just call it Expressions, since that’s its name.”

“Cool.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sitting next to Steve in the car was like Eric’s early days with Max all over again. Electric anticipation coursed through his veins as he found himself so physically close to such a sexy, handsome young man yet so far away from any possibility something might happen between them.

“So, tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with religion or dogs.”

“What do you mean?” Steve’s voice lilted just a bit in the most adorable way.

“I mean, I want to know more about you. All I’ve learned so far is you’re a preacher and you love Felix.”

“Oh…okay. But I don’t know much about you either.”

“So you tell me something about you, and I’ll tell you something about me.”

“Hm. Well…” He laughed. “I own fourteen suits.”

Eric cracked up. “Wow…all right. That’s not exactly what I meant, but it is an interesting bit of information. It doesn’t really surprise me, though. I surmised you to be quite the sharp dresser.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” He looked at Eric, who’d glanced over to him, and their gazes locked for a couple seconds. “Your turn. Tell me something about you.”

Eric took a deep breath. “All right, let me think. Oh…okay.” He smiled and glanced at Steve one last time before continuing. “I work out every day. Well, pretty much every day. But I hate going to the gym. I feel weird exercising in front of people.”

“I’m kind of like that too. I’ve had the same weight set since I was in high school. I have it set up in the spare bedroom, and I either work out or go for run every day.”

“You do?” An image of Steve shirtless in workout shorts instantly popped into Eric’s brain. “Well, I have practically an entire gym set up in my basement. You’re welcome to use it anytime. I promise I won’t watch…unless you want me to.”

Steve grinned. “I just might take you up on the offer. I’ll have to check it out.”

“Okay, something more personal. It’s your turn.”

Steve rubbed his palms across his thighs and stared out the passenger window for a moment. “I’m the youngest child of four brothers, and I’m the polar opposite of the other three.”

“In what way? What do you mean, ‘polar opposite’?”

“Well…” He took a breath. “Mark, Matt, and Sean are their names, and they’re all kind of country, if you know what I mean. They like hunting and fishing and Monster Trucks…stuff like that. And two of them are married already. Sean’s not yet, but he has a girlfriend.”

“And you don’t like any of those things? Hunting, fishing, big trucks?” Girls?

“Not a single one.” He shook his head, laughing. “In high school, besides being religious, I loved drama class. I was in all the school plays, starred in one.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Sound of Music.”

“Oh my God! One of my favorites.” Eric reached over and gently patted Steve’s thigh, then quickly pulled back his hand.

“So, I’m kind of the black sheep of the family.”

“More like the white sheep.” Or rainbow sheep. “The rest of your family are the ones out killing animals.”

“I know, right? But I shouldn’t say anything. I mean, God did give us animals to have dominion over, and to eat.”

Eric wasn’t about to go down that rabbit hole. “My friend Kathleen’s vegan. I have a lot of respect for her, but I just don’t think I could ever give up bacon.”

“Or cheeseburgers!”

“Kathleen buys this ground beef substitute from Whole Foods that is so realistic you’d swear you were eating sirloin. It’s not available yet in most stores though.”

Steve reached up to run just his fingertips through the front of his hair. It was like a veneer was beginning to peel back, exposing a more relaxed yet softer version of his personality—less guarded perhaps. “There aren’t many vegetarians or vegans in my church. In fact, the very idea is offensive to a lot of evangelicals.”

“But why?” Eric laughed sardonically. “That’s silly. There are so many legitimate things in the world to take offense to. Why veganism?”

Steve turned a bit in his seat to face Eric. “People don’t realize how much tradition and culture are braided into religious faith. There are some things that become almost sacred to people. They develop an association and link their traditions mentally and emotionally to their belief system. And unfortunately, a lot of times they look to their religion and to the Bible for justification.”

Eric nodded. “That makes sense.”

“For my family, hunting and fishing were a part of our lifestyle. Teenagers, especially the boys in our community, viewed their first deer kill as a rite of passage. The schools even closed on opening day like it was a national holiday. And that’s why so many are adamant about second amendment rights. Every home in my small town had guns. Nobody thought anything of it. Guns and Bibles—they’re both a part of the fabric of our culture.”

“But you’re not in a small town anymore. Grand Rapids is pretty conservative, but it’s also a city. There’s a lot more diversity.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide as Eric began pulling into a parking space a couple blocks from Expressions. “I’ve actually been thinking about that lately. I was so scared when I left my small town to attend Bible college, but when I got here, even though the school was located in the center of the city, we lived completely isolated from everything around us. It was sort of like being in a bubble or something. Everything was so controlled—our TV and radio, our Internet access, even our music.”

“Your Internet access?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, they couldn’t exactly control everything, but they didn’t provide Wifi in our dorms and houses, and cell phones couldn’t be used on campus although most students did have them and use them in their rooms. But if you were caught on an unfavorable website, you’d be in a lot of trouble. We also didn’t have TVs except for in the Commons which was like a community room. And they only played approved programs and channels.”

“Seriously? That sounds…I don’t know…almost like a cult or something.”

Steve’s disdainful expression made Eric instantly regret his choice of words.

“I’m sorry, no offense. I just can’t believe what a sheltered, controlled environment you’re describing. How did that prepare you to minister? After you graduated, did you really feel prepared to go out into the world?”

Steve’s soft sigh spoke volumes. “That actually was something we often debated. It’s been something I’ve struggled with. Our doctrine calls it ‘separation’…being in but not of the world. We have to be able to navigate within society while not becoming a part of the society. The ‘world’ sees us as outsiders.” He again used his air quotes. “And to be honest, many of the most dedicated in our church view themselves as outsiders as well, and they like it that way. They know the world will never understand or accept us until they themselves are convicted by the Holy Spirit and become born again into God’s family.”

“Hm…and that’s what you believe?”

“I accepted Christ as my Savior when I was very young. I do believe it’s about a personal relationship with Him, and in order to have this, you have to accept Him and become born again. Yes…I do believe.”

“But the rest of it—do you believe the whole world is against you?”

He closed his eyes a second, then opened them and smiled. “Not really. Between you and me, I think Christians often use it as an excuse to play the victim. A lot of Christians want to feel like they are suffering—being persecuted—for their faith. I don’t think that’s how Jesus was, though. He didn’t fight the world as if it was His enemy. He got right out there and mingled with the sinners and ministered to them.”

“I like your viewpoint much better. But is that why you’re my friend? Are you on a mission to minister to me, to convert me?”

Steve laughed. “No.” He extended his hand, placing it on Eric’s forearm. “I’m your friend because I like you.”

Eric looked into his eyes and felt an urge to move closer. Instead, he reached for his door handle, then glanced away. Steve did the same, pulling his hand off Eric’s arm. “I like you too,” Eric said as he pushed open the door. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat!”