Author's Note: This chapter, and the two which directly precede it (10, 11, and 12) are meant to be read and considered as one chapter. They were originally written as one chapter, but, due to its length, I divided it into three separate installments.
This began as a collaborative work, but the co-author has since discontinued work on this piece. The characters will be markedly different than they were previously as this project is now mine alone.
The collaborative work had been four chapters in length, but I have deleted all but the first chapter (as that was my work alone). The work henceforth will be mine. Feedback will be appreciated.
Thank you.
The author claims no ownership to the characters, settings, or events from the television series Glee.
Approximate words this chapter: 8,000
"Your dad really gonna come to this thing?" Scoop asked, wrinkled brow and curious expression under sunglasses as he, Dave, and John stood on the sidewalk in front of the White Box, other attendees arriving and loitering on the sidewalk in front of the building in sparse groups in the bright daylight of the summer evening.
"He said he would," Dave answered. "He said he'd at least meet me here. He's pretty-much been in on everything I've done all week, and he's enjoying meeting my friends, and, well, the band thing is a bunch of my friends."
Scoop shrugged, retaining a questioning expression, wordless.
"I mean, he liked meeting you and Katie when you barbecued for all us the other night."
John snickered and chimed, "Everyone likes being fed, Dave."
Scoop nodded, reserved agreement, as if with a caveat. "Your dad is really cool, and I can definitely see a lot of him in you, but, like, do you think he'll seriously enjoy hanging here while the band plays?"
Dave's forehead wrinkled as he shrugged. "He went to see Def Leppard and Whitesnake when he was our age."
Scoop shook his head, unconvinced. "Big difference between an arena concert and the bar-band scene."
Katie had poked her head outside the entranceway to see Scoop, Dave, and John standing on the sidewalk. She bounced, skipping out of the club to join them; on arrival, she butted Scoop's back from behind with her shoulder, knocking Scoop off-balance, and causing Dave and John to laugh heartily.
"Geeze, woman, whaddaya trynna do? Kill me?" Scoop's words were affectedly annoyed and calm-sounding indicating that occurrences like these were fairly commonplace between him and Katie.
"You know it." Katie answered as she grappled, returning him to an upright position, ending the action with a sloppy sounding kiss to his cheek: Scoop's expression was affected sourness breaking to a grin.
"So, what are my three favorite guys doing out here on the sidewalk?" Katie posed, boisterous.
"We're waiting for Dave's dad," John replied, loud with equal zeal.
"Dave's dad's coming?" Katie puzzled momentarily, then, covering for a blunt reaction which might be interpreted as rude, she continued, stammering. "Well, um, that's cool. I mean, I really liked meeting him the other night at your place when Scoop barbecued. He seems really, um, cool. Er...nice. He seems really nice."
"You're making it worse, Katie," John sassed, "Quit while you're ahead."
"He bringing his lady-friend along too?" Scoop sassed at Dave who smiled and blushed for a moment before responding.
"Here? I seriously doubt it."
"I dunno, Dave," John interjected. "She met us out at the motocross last night."
"Yeah, who'd have thought that?" Dave admitted, shaking his head. "I thought it was cool that he asked her along to dinner on Wednesday, but her showing up at the racetrack was really unexpected. But Dad liked it."
Scoop nodded, smug. "She's a damned hot-looking older lady."
Katie wordlessly reacted to Scoop's assessment by playfully hitting him across the back of his head.
"Ow!" Scoop nearly coughed, turning to Katie with a feigned expression of pain, "What was that for?"
"That was pre-emptive," Katie answered, clinical. "You were about to follow up that 'hot-looking-older-lady' comment with, 'I'd do her,' and I didn't want to hear it so I hit you."
"Well, she is a hot-looking older lady," Scoop repeated the earlier comment as if an excuse for his unspoken follow-up thought.
"Well, Dave's dad is DILF territory," John offered, calmly shrugging.
"John!" Dave exclaimed, wide eyes and stunned expression as Katie's face took on a confused countenance and Scoop continued to rub the back of his head while facing downward to the pavement.
"What?," John began, remaining calm. "Your dad's a nice-looking guy. I can see where you get it from."
Dave shook his head, blushing severely but taking on an embarrassed smile. "Well, thanks, I guess. I just never expected, or wanted, to hear him referred to as a DILF. It's a little weird."
"Where'd he meet that Camille lady anyway?" Scoop spoke, diffusing the slight tension.
"Actually, I met her at John's film festival fund-raiser thing last weekend," Dave explained. "She and I just kinda struck up a conversation when my dad was at the restroom, so I introduced the two of them when he got back."
"Cool," Scoop nodded, an overdone but nonetheless sincere gesture of approval.
"Hey, no hurry, but I came out here looking for you because the guys in the band are gonna need you inside," Katie informed.
"Ah, well, then I should see what's going on inside," Scoop spoke as he pivoted and made a movement toward the club's entrance. "I'll catch you guys inside later."
Dave and John nodded assent as Scoop and Katie reentered the building.
"Seems like everyone had a good time in Europe," John offered as he and Dave watched them disappear, arm-in-arm, into the doorway.
"Yeah, from what all the other people in the band said, everything was pretty great," Dave confirmed, nodding. And Scoop and Katie are so cute together now, it's almost nauseating."
"Hey, there's your dad now," John directed Dave's attention to a figure approaching quickly but uneasily toward the building from the side nearest where Dave and John were standing.
"Hey, Dad, glad you made it."
"Hi, David," Paul greeted, summoning a smile but nodding nervously, "Good evening, John."
"Hi, Mr. K.," John returned, adopting the initial-greeting when speaking to Dave's father: the full name was such a mouthful and he couldn't bring himself to call Dave's father by his first name, he'd explained to them earlier.
Paul raised his head, assessing the situation, squinty-eyed and seeming visibly nervous.
"You found us pretty easily," Dave observed, "Even came around the side of the building where we're standing."
"Um, I drove past and saw you standing outside with your other friends a minute ago," Paul's words seemed marked with uncertainty. "Parked the rental car around the corner from here."
"Ah, yeah, Scoop and Katie are inside the buiding." Dave nodded. "Hey, Dad, you wanna come into the bar and get a beer or something? I can introduce you to my other friends."
Paul shook his head quickly. "David, I really don't think this is my, um, scene or something. I think I'd feel really old in there among your friends."
"Aw, c'mon, Dad. There's gonna be people older than you in there."
Paul nodded and addressed Dave directly. "I'm sure there are, but they've been doing this since they were your age. This is their crowd. I think I'd feel really out-of-place in there among your friends, and it might make your friends kind-of uncomfortable as well."
Dave smirked, quizzical. "My friends can deal with it. Besides, you don't have any plans for tonight. What'll you do if you don't hang out here? It's barely past seven-thirty."
Paul rolled his eyes, almost relieved. "Honestly, it might do me good to have a quiet night back at my hotel room. I've barely checked my email all week, I can catch up on the news, and I brought some reading material specifically for the purpose of an evening like this. I won't be bored. I've hung out with you every night this week. Tonight can be just for you and your friends. Then, tomorrow night we can do something for my last night in Portland before I fly back to Ohio on Sunday."
"Alright, okay," Dave nodded, sarcastic but satisfied as Paul's cell phone buzzed to life in his pocket.
Paul glanced at the screen briefly before answering in an soft, almost melodious, unbusinesslike tone, "Hello?"
"Hi, I'm just meeting David before his friends' band plays."
Dave smirked at John: it was fairly obvious to him that this particular tone of voice would be reserved for conversations with Camille.
"No, I wasn't going to stay here. I was thinking about it, but it's not really my thing. I was just going to catch up on some reading or something back at the hotel."
Indistinct noises from the phone mixed with the street noise and the faint music from the jukebox inside the club between Paul's speech.
"Sure, that sounds good. I could meet you there, but I think the boys, that is, David and John, are going to stay here with their friends."
"Okay, see you there in about a half-hour then. Bye, now."
Paul pulled the phone from his ear and touched the screen, disconnecting the call.
"That was Camille."
"No, really?" Dave joked, straight-faced.
"Quiet, you," Paul rankled in jest as Dave and John snickered at each other.
"She said she had a long day and she's going out for ice cream with her friends because she's earned it. I'm going to meet her. You two are invited, but you're probably going to want to stay here with your friends, right?"
"Yeah, we're staying here," Dave spoke as John nodded agreement, "but it's cool that you've got something to do now at least, I mean, it is early."
"Yes, and we're just meeting for dessert, so I should be back at the hotel by ten at the latest, I'd say."
"Well, this will probably be going on until after one, and you'll be asleep by then. You can call if you like, but I'll never hear the phone ring in there while the band is playing."
"No problem," Paul smirked as he shook his head. "We'll regroup tomorrow. I hope to have a nice dinner and a few drinks for my last night in Portland."
"Sounds good," Dave spoke, raising his voice as Paul backed toward the corner. "I'll give you a call, late morning or early afternoon if I don't hear from you first."
"Alright," Paul waved, "Have a good time tonight, kids."
"You too, Dad."
The White Box was predictably hot and sweaty, despite the air-conditioning, on an August night coupled with alcohol consumption, loud music, and aggressive dancing. The opening band played a quick energetic set, setting the atmosphere for the return of Omnivore.
Omnivore were given the equivalent of a hero's welcome, having not played on their home turf in over four months but effectively having "conquered Europe" in the interim (or, at least, the club circuit to which they played). Though their set held no big surprises, it was elevated with the confidence and professionalism that the status of being a touring band had given them. Needless to say, the crowd was enthusiastic and appreciative.
As Omnivore's regular set wound to a close and the obligatory shouts of "Rosie" rose from the crowd, John leaned toward Dave; both were standing in close proximity to Scoop and Katie, and spoke loud enough for all three of them to hear.
"They sound good, great even. Really smooth, like, slick, professional. When I saw them that one other time, they sounded rough around the edges. Maybe I'm crazy, but I kinda liked the rough sound better."
Dave smirked and nodded in agreement as Scoop spoke.
"Yeah, well, I kinda agree with you. There's a certain intensity that comes with that roughness, but things can't ever stay that way. For better or worse, they're a tighter, more professional-sounding unit now. That's when the art, the technique, takes on a life of its own."
An abrupt popping sound through the PA system announced the return of the band to the stage for their encore. Zack smiled, nodding in acknowledgment of the calls for "Rosie".
"We'll get there, we'll do 'Whole Lotta Rosie'," he smiled at the crowd. "First, though, we wanna do this song we kinda picked up while we were in Europe. We met a lot of good people out there, and we made some friends, but the most amazing thing about it was the friendships that became more solid while we were on the road in some foreign country, barely knowing the language. And, yeah, mostly for Scoop and Katie, our amazing manager and his ass-kickin' girlfriend. And, I'm sure this song applies to a couple of other people here tonight as well."
Robbie let fly from his guitar a loud arpeggio, three notes bursting into a chord then repeated into a pattern. The drums joined in first, uptempo, then the bass guitar and rhythm guitar at the same time: the sound was bright and upbeat but positively rollicking as Zack entered with the lead vocal.
Here's the story, there's only me
No other place for you to be
It's only you, babe, it's only you
I can't believe the things you do
The chorus burst into full-blooded overdriven guitars as the vocal became passionate, downright urgent.
Right now, right here, ain't gonna let you disappear
Right now, this time, you've got yours and I've got mine
The slightly gentler verse of the song returned momentarily, building again to the full-open-throttle of the chorus; the crowd enthusiastically danced and bounced against each other, Dave, John, Katie, and Scoop playfully jostled to the song.
Come on, lover, go back to start
I've got your picture in my heart
Be my lover, the only one
Be anything but don't be gone
Right now, right here, you just might be my new career
Right now, this time, you've got yours and I've got mine
"Hey, Dad," Dave greeted, bright, into his phone.
"Good morn...er...afternoon at this point I guess," Paul's voice crackled through the phone. "What's going on?"
"Nothing really," Dave shrugged. "Got up a little late after being out late last night. John just left for the film center. I was basically just hangin' out, waiting for you to call."
"Well, it's my last day in Portland. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I just finished packing most of my things so I'm not scrambling tomorrow morning when I need to leave for the airport."
"Well, did you have anything specific you wanted to do today?"
"No, nothing in mind at all."
"Well, then, why don't you just head on over here, and we'll figure something out. Maybe have a quiet afternoon here before going out for dinner."
"Sounds good, David. See you in a few."
It was less than a half-hour before Paul arrived at Dave's apartment, was ushered inside, and made himself comfortable on the living-room couch.
"You want anything? Coffee? Beer?" Dave snickered at the last suggestion, the time being early in the afternoon.
"Beer..." Paul dismissed, understanding the offering with the intended sense of humor. "Just a glass of water would be good."
"No problem," Dave walked into the kitchen and dispensed glasses of water for both himself and his father.
"There's a Reds game on this afternoon if you want to watch that before the evening," Dave mentioned as he returned to the living room and passed Paul a glass of water. "Might be nice just to hang out here instead of going out for a change."
"I agree," Paul spoke, voice sounding watery after gulping a mouthful from the glass. "So, John's working?"
"Uh, he got a rush job he's doing, kind-of a favor for a friend-of-a-friend," Dave answered as he sat on next to Paul on the couch. "It needs finished by Monday, but he wanted to hang out with you and me for dinner this evening and he wanted to see you off tomorrow morning at the airport as well. Then he and I have plans to play basketball with the guys tomorrow afternoon, so the only time he could fit it in was, like, right now."
Paul nodded. "Very considerate of him to want to come with you to the airport with me, actually."
Dave smiled into a conversational laugh. "Well, he appreciates the fact that you've been springing for dinner for him and me almost every day since you've been here. Or, at least when he's been around, which has been, what? Four or Five days, not counting the film festival event and the night Scoop cooked for us."
"It's really not a big deal to me, David. I've enjoyed meeting your friends, and feeding one of them isn't going to set me back at all."
"Well, he's extremely appreciative, and he thinks your pretty awesome, even if you didn't hang out at the show with us last night."
"Oh, that again?" Paul laughed, "You're not holding that against me, are you?"
"Nah," Dave reassured, smiling. "It would have been cool if you'd have stayed, but, yeah, I understand that it wouldn't have been exactly your crowd. We ended up getting in pretty late last night, so that would have knocked your sleep-schedule out of whack if you'd have stayed with us the whole time. Besides, you probably had a better time having dessert with Camille than you would have had knocking a few beers back with the boys, huh?"
Paul nodded, smiling. "I'm certainly not averse to having a few beers while watching a football game, but I think my days of loud music are over."
"So, what do you think of John?"
Paul smiled playfully and bobbed his head back-and-forth on his shoulders. "He's very easy to get along with, seems like a generally jovial personality. Sometimes he gets a little, um, over-excited about things, but it's kind of fun to watch."
Dave laughed. "Yeah, kinda like a little kid sometimes, and yeah, I've told him that it's fun to watch also. Sometimes he has rough mood-swings, but I haven't seen one of those in months."
"He's a little more, um, obvious than you are, if you know what I mean."
"Is that a problem?" Dave affected annoyance but couldn't hide a grin.
"No, just stating my impression," Paul covered his possibly inappropriate remark by quickly shifting the subject. "No problems sharing an apartment with him?"
"Not yet," Dave replied with a laugh. "So, what time were you thinking about dinner?"
Paul shook his head, a blank expression. "I had no real idea. Are you thinking dinner already?"
"No," Dave dismissed loudly with a smile. "I got up kinda late because I was out late last night. John got up kinda late as well and made a huge breakfast, so I'm not going to be hungry for hours. I was just gonna say that maybe we'd just order some pizza and wings and eat here, but that's hours away at this point."
"Well, that sounds okay, but I was hoping for a nice dinner out for my last night in Portland," Paul answered, shrugging and tilting his head to one side. "You wouldn't mind if I asked Camille to join us, would you?"
Dave smiled and shook his head. "Absolutely not. That's your call, and she seems to like your company and you seem to like her company. It's good all around."
"I agree, and also the part about not being remotely hungry yet," Paul added. "I had a late breakfast myself."
"Well, I called you as soon as I got up, but it went to your voicemail."
Paul rolled his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, my phone battery went dead and I left my charger back at the hotel roo..."
The conversation stopped, silent, for a moment as Dave slowly swiveled his neck to face his father.
"You spent the night with Camille," Dave playfully accused, smirking, smug. "Busted."
Paul smiled, small and embarrassed with a creased forehead, while flushing deep red, remaining silent.
"Dad, it's no big deal," Dave spoke, on the verge of a laugh while trying to be tactful. "You two like each other. She's probably lonely. I know you're lonely. It's not like you're married any more, and even when you were still, um, officially married, it wasn't like you weren't lonely then, right?"
"Yeah," Paul sighed, sounding defeated by Dave's understanding, if sportive, approach. "It's just kind-of strange being on that end of the conversation."
"Dad, I want you to be happy."
Paul nodded, smiling more certain now, and the two were quiet for a moment.
"Well, I'm good if we just have a quiet afternoon together before dinner," Paul said finally. "Maybe turn on that Reds game when it starts."
"Sounds good to me."
"I gotta say that I had an incredible week visiting you in Portland, David."
"I loved seeing you too, Dad."
"It's not as simple as that, David."
"What do you mean?" Dave, forehead creased, curious.
"David, I really didn't know what to expect when I came out to visit you. Being that you're in college and your best friend and former-roommate is the manager of a rock band, I had visions of you living in a frat-boy crash-pad or something, but that's so far from the reality. Your place is amazingly, um, tidy and befitting of a person ten years older than you actually are." At the last, Paul shook his head feebly and his voice audibly quivered. "I said it before. It's like you've grown up and I missed it. I feel it even worse now than before."
"Geeze, Dad," Dave spoke, almost a whining tone as he reached his hand to Paul's shoulder. "I'm always gonna be your kid, and you're always gonna be my dad. When something happens to me, good, bad, whatever, you're the first person I'm gonna want to talk to. You're talking like you think I don't need you anymore or something, but that's so not true. If there's something I'm dealing with, maybe ninety percent of the time I can figure it out myself, but when I need someone to talk to or just bounce ideas off of, you're number one on my list. You're always gonna be. Like when John needed a place to live, as soon as I got home, the first thing I did was call you."
"Yeah, to ask my advice," Paul spoke with a benign gruffness in his voice. "But, like I told you then, you didn't need my advice."
"You told me you couldn't give me any advice because you believe in me. And that meant so much to me that it was better than if you had given me advice. Maybe it was a validation, something I needed to hear."
"I was almost in tears by the end of that conversation."
"Why, Dad?" Dave looked at his father with some confusion in his expression.
Paul let out a long, loud breath before he began answering.
"I'd realized that you'd come full-circle."
Dave's expression puzzled for a moment as Paul explained further.
"When you were young, you were the brightest, kindest little kid. Sure, you were physical and liked to play aggressively with your friends, but you were giving and empathetic beyond your years. When you grew into your teens, that changed. You didn't talk so much, you kept things to yourself, and you became, in a word, angry, and then, well, everything went bad for you and you maybe became kind-of lost. That's when you moved out to Portland and I lost contact with you for three years. Okay, I didn't exactly lose contact, but a weekly phone call can't take the place of daily interaction. So, then, when you called to tell me about how your friend needed a place to live, that was the bright, caring boy again, only his kindness had the intelligence and maturity of an adult. You went back to your true nature, the person you probably were the whole time: the warm-hearted guy who cares deeply about his friends and always puts his loved ones first; and I missed it."
Dave appeared almost stunned, wistful, before replying, shaking his head slowly.
"You're here now."
"But tomorrow I go back to the other side of the continent, an eight-hour plane-flight away."
Dave acknowledged, silent, his forehead creasing, an expression of vague pain.
"Listen, David," Paul spoke quickly, not intending to cause an uncomfortable reaction. "I know you're happy here in Portland. I know this place is your home now. I want you to be happy, but don't deny me the privilege of missing you, okay?"
When Dave raised his gaze to meet Paul, he saw that his father was smiling, small and pleading, but genuine. Dave nodded, understanding, and reached to his father's far shoulder, pulling him into an embrace and feeling his eyes water momentarily.
As they unlocked, Paul began talking again, conversational but soft, interested.
"Like I said before, your place here, your apartment, is really pretty nice, far more mature than I expected, probably moreso than anyone would expect from a college-student."
"Thanks, I think," Dave let out a brief laugh. "Maybe you should see it when John's working on some art project and there're pieces of painted stuff everywhere. Probably doesn't look quite so orderly then."
Paul nodded, a pleasant, satisfied smile.
"That reminds me. You and John. I noticed, um, each have your own separate bedrooms. Are you and him strictly roommates? Friends?"
Dave's face sobered slightly but retained the shadow of a smile as he tilted his head, an unsure gesture.
"Friends definitely. Beyond that, I'm really not sure. I mean, I can say I really care a lot about him. Like Scoop or any other of my really close friends, there's not much I wouldn't do for John."
Dave paused for a moment as if unsure of his next sentence.
"I can say, though, John and I have been, um, are physically closer than Scoop and me ever could have been or will be."
Paul displayed no reaction, as if perfectly comfortable with the admission.
"So, does that mean that John is your boyfriend?"
"Dad, I don't know. I'm new to this. He's the first person I've felt a real connection with that I also have, like, a physical interest in. Everyone else I've ever thought about was either one or the other. I'm not sure if he's just a really good friend or if he's more than that."
Paul nodded before speaking, soft but confident.
"Scoop's your best friend, right?"
"Yeah," Dave nodded, an immediate reply.
"Tell me something. If you woke up tomorrow and Scoop had somehow disappeared from your life entirely, how would you feel about it?"
Dave's face pained at the suggestion.
"You mean, like, he died in an accident or something? Or him and I got into a fight and weren't friends anymore?"
Paul shook his head, dismissing the question. "It doesn't matter. How would you feel if Scoop was gone?"
"Well, it kinda does matter. Because I think if it was some fight we got into that caused it, it'd be worse. If I'd have lost him to something like an accident, at least I would know that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it."
"But how would you feel? Regardless of how it happened?"
"It would be terrible. I'd feel like part of me was missing. For the last three years, Scoop's been a huge part of my world. I'm not sure how it would have played-out if we weren't friends like we are. We, like, grew into being adults together."
"And, if he was gone, what would you think about?"
Dave let out loud breath.
"I'd think about all the great times we had together, all the stupid fun, all the times I helped him study so he could do well on his exams. I'd think about some of the not-so-great times that maybe made us closer friends, like when he was busted up over some girl. Damn. I'd remember the time he told me that he figured out that I'm gay and that he was alright with it. That's probably the biggest thing, the fact that he said he'd have my back no matter what."
Paul nodded, appearing to try to remain clinical but not able to suppress a small smile.
"Okay, now, how would you feel if John were gone tomorrow?"
Dave's expression went blank for a moment, then became uncertain. He didn't speak.
"Well," Paul affected impatience, "how would you feel if John were removed from your life?"
Dave remained silent, shaking his head, slight, barely perceptible.
"Would you miss him?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"In the same ways you'd miss Scoop?"
Dave made no sound; the movement of his head became more pronounced.
"Not the same way?"
"No."
"How then?"
Dave's face twisted slightly before he spoke.
"I'd be thinking about the stuff we might have done, could have done, never had the chance to do."
"So, the things you'd be missing about Scoop, though they're all perfectly valid and important, would be things about the past experiences. And the things that you'd be missing about John would be, at least partially, disappointment about some, um, unfulfilled possibility?"
"Yeah."
Dave's single word was nearly whispered, breathed but audible. Both father and son registered the significance of the quiet epiphany.
"Did I tell you that I'm glad I got to have breakfast with you and your dad and see him off at the airport this morning?" John asked as he flopped onto the livingroom couch, the light of the evening sun coloring the apartment deep golden.
"No, you didn't tell me that," Dave called out from the kitchen. "You want a beer?"
"Sure, grab me one," John called back.
Dave returned to the livingroom and sat next to John on the couch, handing an opened beer bottle to him.
"No offense to you or your friends, I usually have an awesome time playing basketball with them, and your friends are all awesome people, but it seemed almost like a chore today."
Dave snickered. "I agree. It's been a long day. Hell, it's been a long week, and I'm looking forward to crashing hard tonight, but I had a really good week. Right now I'm glad my first class tomorrow is at 11 AM. I don't hafta worry about being half-asleep on my first day of classes."
"Did I tell you that I really enjoyed hanging out with you and your dad while he was here in town?"
"No, you didn't tell me that, not in so many words at least, but it seemed pretty obvious because you never turned down an invitation or an opportunity to hang out with us."
John laughed as he downed a mouthful of beer.
"I'm no fool. When someone offers to include me as part of lunch and/or dinner for a week, I'm not gonna decline. Plus all of the other stuff. Seriously, in this one week, I've done things in Portland that I haven't done in all of the several years I've lived here."
"Well, it was a given that Dad would want to get his picture in front of the Paul Bunyan statue, him being a big-framed guy named Paul and all."
Both John and Dave giggled momentarily.
"Whose idea was it to visit the racetrack?"
Dave snickered and shook his head. "I googled 'things to do in Portland on a Thrusday night' and the motocross event came up among a bunch of less-interesting-sounding stuff. Simple as that."
John nodded, smiling. The room fell quiet before he spoke again.
"I really admire the way you and your dad get along. I'm actually kind-of envious."
"Thank you," Dave spoke through a more formal smile. "My dad's really important to me, and I'm glad we got to spend so much of the week together. I think he's awesome also, but, then, I'm pretty biased in his favor all of the time."
John smiled again, returning his attention to his beer.
"You know, um, yesterday my dad brought something up in conversation," Dave began, "Specifically he asked about you and me."
John swivelled his head to face Dave, a benign but uncertain expression.
"What do you mean?"
Dave smirked, sarcastic but friendly. "I think you have an idea of what I mean. He asked me if you and I were an item. He knows that we dated in the past, so he knows you're gay..."
"You mean he couldn't tell otherwise?"
Dave shook his head, dismissing the diffusing attempt at humor.
"He pointed out that we have separate bedrooms. He asked me pretty bluntly if you and I are just friends and roommates or boyfriends."
"What'd you tell him?"
"I told him I didn't know. I told him that I thought of you as a friend, kinda like my other friends, but I didn't hide the fact that you and I have had sex. And currently have sex, not just past-tense."
John nodded, visibly uncomfortable but trying to hide his uncertainty, silent.
"What do you think we are?"
John exhaled, quiet, his breath shaky.
"We dated a couple of times months ago..."
"Yeah, I remember."
"It was pretty catastrophic."
"I remember that too."
"Of course you do," John huffed. "Who could forget? Since then, though, you've become an awesome friend, and I'm not sure what else. Maybe we're friends-with-benefits or something. It's convenient that we're roommates if that's the case. Maybe I felt like I had my bar set too high on those first couple of dates. Maybe I'm trying not to jinx it since we've become really great friends."
Dave suppressed a short laugh, trying to be more approachable than mocking in his words.
"Isn't that what couples are? Really awesome friends who understand each other and learn about each other? They might not have a whole lot in common at first, but they want to be a part of each other's life. And, yeah, awesome sex too."
John remained wordless but laughed audibly.
"I think we're beyond the point of jinxing anything, John."
"What do you mean?" John turned his head to face Dave as he spoke.
"It means we just hafta see where this goes. When I was talking with my dad yesterday, I came to the realization that you and me maybe have some possibilities to explore together."
"Aren't you the guy who said, more than once, that he's young and doesn't need to be married-off yet?"
"That'd be me, but I'm also open enough to understand that I should pay attention when I kinda luck-into something that feels comfortable. And I've also said, more than once as well, that I haven't felt comfortable with other guys very often. And, just because I'm open to see where something can go doesn't mean I'm married-off. It just means I'm keeping that idea open."
Neither John nor Dave had exactly noticed, but during the brief conversation, John had unconsciously shifted himself on the couch, physically closer to Dave. Suddenly aware of his intimate proximity, John's voice diminished to a mere whisper upon his answer.
"Do you really feel comfortable with me? That comfortable?"
Dave reached his arm around John to his far shoulder and smiled as John leaned into Dave's chest, slightly awkward but part of the same action.
"Relax," Dave sounded nearly dismissive to John's noticeable hesitancy. "Yes. I feel comfortable enough to call you my boyfriend. If that's alright with you, that is."
John's face burst with an uncontrollable smile, an almost childlike reaction: no behavioral filter for the moment's gravity.
"That is alright with me. More than alright."
Dave chuckled and pulled his arm snugger around John.
"Y'know, I called that old friend from Ohio earlier in the week."
"The one from high school that you thought you were crushing on back then? That Kurt guy?"
"Yeah. Him."
"Yeah?" John asked, quiet but curious. "What for?"
"I was hoping he could help me figure out whether I was having, um, feelings for you."
John giggled as Dave furthered.
"I mean, I know I have feelings for you, but I wasn't sure what they were all about. Turned out, Kurt was pretty-much no help at all."
John laughed a quiet but deep belly-laugh and Dave followed before continuing.
"I mean, it was an, um, interesting conversation so it wasn't a waste of time or anything, just not really useful on that level."
"Yeah, I've been there. You respect someone's opinion but it turns out that they might be just as clueless as you are."
Dave hissed a laugh and nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly it. Turns out, though, the conversation I had with my dad yesterday? That was useful. He totally helped me figure it out."
"Okay, I like your dad even more than I did a minute ago."
"Cool," Dave added with a sloppy-sounding snicker. "I mean, who'd have thought that he'd get it?"
"Dave," John's smile remained but lost its silly edge. "Your dad loves you. He accepts you and he's proud of you. In order to love you like that, he'd have to know you pretty well. Plus, he has a couple of decades of life-experience on us. Just stuff that comes with living, I guess."
"Yeah," Dave agreed, airy. "I start classes again tomorrow, so tonight is the unofficial end of my summer, and it's been a pretty amazing summer for me."
"Me too."
"Hell, just this last week has been awesome unto itself."
"Did I really top you last Saturday night?"
Dave let out a deep laugh. "Yeah. Why? Don't you remember it?"
"I was thinking maybe I dreamed it or something. But if I did, it was, like, the best dream I ever had."
"No, it really happened. Definitely. Part of why last week, and the summer in general, was so amazing."
"So, you're up for doing that again?"
Dave laughed deep again. "Sure. As long as you're up for it. And as long as I get to top you with an equal frequency."
"Oh, I think you'll be fucking me more often than I'm fucking you."
"Hey, it's all good," Dave spoke through a mischievous smile. "Did I tell you that my dad got laid the other night?"
"What?" John coughed, astonished, "No, you didn't tell me that!"
"Yeah, the night he skipped out on that show at the White Box he spent the night with that Camille lady."
"Cool," John dragged the word out. "I told you he was a..."
"Hey, shut up!" Dave cut John's sentence short, mock-annoyance, "I don't wanna hear you call my dad a DILF again."
John chuckled but remained silent, face reddening in the darkening room.
"And who'd have thought that taking my dad to a rock show would have been bigger culture-shock than an LGBT event at the Q-Center?"
"Well, he met Camille at the Q-Center thing and slept with her a week later. There was that incentive."
"Yeah, put it that way, I can't disagree," Dave chuckled. "They had common ground. Camille has a gay son and went through some of the same stuff with her ex-husband as my dad did with my mom. Camille was active in some support groups, stuff my dad never looked into, but he might now."
"Dave, do you remember a while back, when I first moved in? We were talking about faith versus religion? You said that religion was difficult but faith was easy?"
"What I said was that religion is really complicated but faith is very simple."
"Yeah, that. What do you have faith in?"
Dave waited a moment, collecting his thoughts, deciding how he wanted to voice them before speaking.
"I have faith in my friends and the people whom I love to be there for me when I need them. I have faith in myself to do the same for them, that real friendship is a responsibility but not a hassle. I have faith that I'm going to make good choices and decisions for myself. I have faith that I'm going to be the kind of friend to my friends that I'd want them to be to me, and I'm not gonna steer my friends wrong. I have faith in myself, I guess, that my life boils down to what I want to do with it."
John nodded, silent.
"What do you have faith in?"
"I"m still working on that."
"That's cool."
"I have a better idea than I did a couple of months ago, though. I stripped a lot of unnecessary things out of my life, I think. I'm doing the work at the film center and the other art jobs I get for a paycheck, but I've been writing again also."
"That's cool too."
"I mean, it's kinda like that religion-versus-faith thing. I mean, I can fly all over the map and complicate my life or I can simplify it and focus on making sure that the few things that I work on are really good. You know, worthwhile. That's actually a confession. You helped me get focused."
"I did?"
"Uh-huh."
"How'd I do that?"
"It's the way you are. You're focused. Like in your schoolwork and your summer internship. You don't daydream about stuff. You take action. You do stuff. I have a place to live because of that."
"I didn't intend to be a positive influence on you."
"But that's how it happened. And don't stress on it. You didn't try to tell me to do anything. I just watched how you operated. It seemed to be working for you so I thought I'd give it a try."
"And?"
"So far, so good."
"So what?"
John chucked, elbowing Dave in his ribs.
"Ouch," Dave reacted to the action, sounding unaffected.
"Don't mock me when I'm complimenting you."
"Just bein' silly."
"I know."
"Now I've got a confession."
"Oh?" John raised his gaze upward, piqued.
"Yeah," Dave began, "I'm glad that you're the first guy to top me."
John broke into a noisy snicker as Dave broke a smile as well.
"Why's that?"
"Why ask that question? It was gonna happen. Last week was as good a time as any, and you're the guy I happened to be with at the time."
"Why me?"
"Huh?" Dave's face twisted, playful. "What? Like I'm gonna go look for someone else to fuck me when I got a sexy guy that I'm sharing an apartment with?"
"Sexy?"
"Yeah. Being comfortable with someone, having feelings for someone can make inhibitions go away, and that's only going to happen if there's an attraction in the first place."
"Okay, that makes sense."
"Cool," Dave uttered, low. "So, do you agree that we're boyfriends at this point?"
"Yeah, I'll go for that."
"So, it this that fairytale romance you talked about wanting all those months ago?"
John shook his head against Dave's shoulder for a moment.
"No. This is better."
"Better? How?"
"This is real," John explained. "Kinda like the religion versus faith thing we were talking about before. Fairytale versus reality."
"Blasphemy," Dave playfully scolded, unceremonious.
"If there's someone up there watching me right now, I think that, given the evidence before me, they'd understand my point of view on this completely."
"Hmm," Dave mumbled agreement. "So, what are you writing these days? Fan-fiction again?"
"Nah, something different."
"Oh yeah? What is it?"
John smirked, exhaling audibly.
"It's a novel based loosely upon real-life experience disguised as a gay how-to manual."
Dave chuckled. "Sounds interesting. And fun."
"I think it will be. It was kinda suggested by a friend some time ago. I was bemoaning the fact that there were no self-help books on dating for gay men, and he suggested that it might be my job to write one."
First draft of an unnamed manuscript
Chapter 1: The Meeting Place
The meeting place can be anywhere, actually: a workplace, a bus stop, a diner, a library, a classroom. Literally any place where people meet is fair game. A friendly atmosphere can be helpful, but it may not be necessary.
Don and Jimmy, for instance, met in a bar. A bar is a fairly typical meeting place as far as meeting places go, but this particular bar wasn't a specifically gay meeting place. It was a themed bar, exacting and geeked-out, not at all the type of place that Don would frequent; in fact, it was the first time Don had been to the place, but this provided an inroad for Jimmy to strike up a conversation with Don.
There was an attraction, but it wasn't love-at-first-sight. Don had come to the bar with his best friend to lend moral support as his best friend had come with the intent to woo a lady. Jimmy began the conversation with Don in a presumptuously flirtatious manner from the onset. This is not always a recommended practice, in fact, it can be dangerous in the wrong meeting place. For a moment, Jimmy had believed that he had overstepped a boundary, but his warm and friendly approach would have likely won over a heterosexual, provided they remained unaware that the conversation was a flirtatious overture.
Don, however, recognized it as such, and luckily for Jimmy, Don was not a heterosexual. Also, luckily for Jimmy, Don was starving for a conversation, being completely out of his element and his best friend being otherwise occupied.
Humor is reliable inroad: once Jimmy made Don laugh, the conversation progressed and the pair moved from the bar area to a more secluded booth.
The secluded area is not always a physical place, like a corner booth in a bar; it can also be an encoded understanding, but the secluded area is almost always part of the meeting place.
At this point, the meeting place had served its purpose: Don and Jimmy made plans to meet the following day, unencumbered by the presence and responsibilities of friends, but this presents a new set of obstacles which we will be discussing in Chapter 2.
Referenced Music:
"I've Got Mine" by Motorhead