Marie Sexton - Coda 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (11 page)

“Yes,” I admitted. “It’s Cole.”

 

He eyed me with wary curiosity for a moment. “The two of you have a fight?”

“I guess you could say that.”
“Did you break up?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m not really sure we were ever together to begin with.”

 

“Was it because of what happened at dinner?”

I hesitated, not wanting to talk about it. But I knew my dad. If I didn’t start talking, he would. He’d sit there speculating and giving me his opinion, whether I cooperated or not. “That was part of it. But the next night, we went to theater, and it didn’t exactly go the way I planned.”

“Uh
huh
,” he said again, looking amused.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“What exactly did you say to him?”

“I told him he was too flamboyant. And I asked him to tone it down.”

 

“And did he tell you to kiss his lily-white ass?”

I had to fight back a smile. Partly because he was right, but also because my first instinct was to tell him that Cole’s ass was in fact not lily white. But I was pretty sure he would rather not know that. “Not in those exact words, but yes. That’s basically what he told me.”

“Uh
huh
,” he said yet again in that annoyingly amused tone. “
What
?”

 

86

 

He shook his head. “Nothing really. It just got me thinking. That’s all.”

 

He let that hang there, and I finally gave in and said, “About what?”

“Do you remember David’s wedding?” I closed my eyes, seeing exactly where he was headed, but unable to stop him. “Do you remember what happened at the reception?”

Of course I remembered. David was my cousin. He married when I was in college, only a few months after I had come out to my family. I took a date to David’s reception—Zach. It was the first time I had ever shown up at a family function of any type with another man. “Yes,” I finally said, “I remember.”

“You and Zach were so nervous, weren’t you? I mean, I didn’t know it at the time. I was too busy being disgusted and trying hard to
not
be disgusted. But I realize now. You were both being so careful not to sit too close, not to touch each other. But the fact was anybody who looked at the two of you could see it. You were both grinning like fools, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other.”

He was right. I remembered with perfect clarity how Zach and I had been—trying to act casual when we both knew we were going to tear each other’s clothes off the first chance we got. We didn’t even make it out of the parking lot. I felt myself blushing as I remembered groping hands and the wonderful urgency that had overtaken us in his car after the reception.

“So there you two were,” Dad went on, “trying not to touch each other. And there I was, trying not to
think
about the two of you touching each other. And in the end, I had a few too many drinks, and I pulled the two of you aside—”

“Yes.”
“—and I told you to stop being so obvious.”
“I remember.”
“And do you remember what you told me?”
87

“I told you that you better get used to having a fucking faggot for a son.”

He nodded. “Exactly. And then you told me that if I really loved you, I wouldn’t ask you to change. I would learn to accept you exactly the way you were.”

“What’s your point, Dad?” I asked, although I thought I knew.

“My point is you were right.” He picked up his menu and held it up so I couldn’t see his face. But I could still hear him, for better or worse. “Let’s face it, Jon: that doesn’t happen very damn often, does it?”

E
VEN
after I knew he was home, it took me three days and half a bottle of wine to get up enough nerve to call him.

“Hello?”
“It’s Jonathan.”
There was a pause, and then, “I know.”
“I’m sorry, Cole. I really am.”
“Sorry for what?”

“For being embarrassed. For being so mad. For all the things I said, and even for the things I thought but didn’t say.”

 

“You’re on a roll, darling. Keep going.”

 

“I’m sorry for wanting you to change. And I’m sorry for being an uptight prick.”

“Is that all?”
“Did I miss something?”
“I suppose you covered the major points.”
“I missed you.”
“That’s excellent. You’re really getting the hang of it now.” 88

“I don’t want it to be over.”

I thought he was going to make another smart-ass reply, but instead he said softly, “I don’t either, Jonny.” And I knew that the derivative of my name, even said in mockery, was a peace offering of sorts.

“Can I see you tonight?”
“Tonight? I don’t know, darling. I’m terribly busy.”
“Then when?”
“I’ll have to check my calendar and get back to you.” “Really?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I think maybe you’re just trying to punish me.”

“Don’t be silly, darling.
Of course
I’m trying to punish you. Bye now!”

“Cole?” I said, but the line was already dead. “
Shit
!” I yelled, flinging my phone across the room. It hit the wall with a clatter. The batteries came flying out, and there was an undeniable dent in my drywall now. Good thing it was my home phone and not my cell phone that was now lying in pieces on the floor.

Why the hell had I ever decided to call?

I drank some more wine. I flipped endlessly through the channels of crap on TV. Eventually, I went in the kitchen and raided my cabinets. Cole’s time cooking in my house had added a lot to my pantry, but it was nothing I could use. Lots of spices and oils, but nothing I could actually eat. I finally found a TV dinner in the back of the freezer. I put it in the microwave, but before I could turn it on, the doorbell rang.

I crossed over to the door, kicking what remained of my phone across the room as I passed, just for good measure. I stopped with my hand on the knob to compose myself. I counted to five. I counted to five again. Then I opened it.
89

It was Cole. He looked more unsure of himself than I had ever seen him. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, and he looked up at me through his bangs. “I think I’m done punishing you now,” he said. And the next thing I knew, he was all over me.

He was breathless, his hands tearing at my clothes. He even let me kiss him, which he didn’t do often. He tasted like something sweet and fruity. His lips were soft and warm, the sweet smell of his hair so familiar, and whatever had happened, it was all forgotten in a moment. I couldn’t wait to get his clothes off of him.

I pulled him over to the couch, and he pushed me backward so that I sat down on it. He got on his knees in front of me and started to undo my pants. It was exactly like him to go straight for what he wanted, but for the first time ever with him, I found myself wanting to slow things down. I wanted to pull him into my lap and kiss him more. I wanted to keep smelling that ridiculous shampoo. But as quickly as he could, he pulled my pants out of the way, and before I could object, his mouth was on me.

It may not have been the best blowjob he had ever given me, but it was certainly the most enthusiastic. He had one hand around the base of my shaft, and the fingers of his other hand were digging into my thigh, painful yet undeniably erotic. His hair was silky-soft in my hands, his mouth was unbelievably warm, and the sounds he was making were enough to drive me wild. He was moving fast, moaning, almost whimpering, and I could tell he was so turned on I might not need to touch him at all.

It had been nearly three weeks since I’d had anybody’s hands on me but my own, and needless to say, his mouth was infinitely better. It didn’t take me long at all, and my moans seemed to make him even more desperate. As soon as I was done, he stood up, fumbling at the buttons of his own pants. I knew if I had lasted only a little longer, he probably wouldn’t have made it even this far. I pushed his hands out of the way, tore them open, and pulled his erection free. I put only the tip in my mouth, thinking I would tease him for a moment, but he grabbed me by the back of the head and pushed himself deep into my mouth. Just one thrust, and he was already crying out with the force of his orgasm.
90

He usually pulled away quickly. He usually had an off-hand comment to make as he disengaged himself from me. He would go into the bathroom, and when he came back out, we would be companions still but not lovers. This time was different. He had barely even finished when he pushed me back on the couch. Before I knew what was happening, he was in my lap and his arms were tight around my neck.

I hadn’t thought before that I missed the intimacy of cuddling after sex, but I realized at that moment how good it felt. It felt right. I wrapped my arms around him and held him against me. I turned my head toward him so I could smell his hair, and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“Three days,” he said, his voice a shaky whisper in my ear. “Three days you made me wait. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “I guess I was scared.” “I was so horribly afraid that you were never going to call at all.”

I held him tighter, felt him trembling in my arms. I kissed the side of his head. “I was afraid of that too.”

 

“I can’t change what I am.”

 

“I know,” I told him. “I don’t know why I ever thought you could.”

I
HAD
a lunch date with my dad the next day. I invited Cole to join us, because it seemed like the polite thing to do, but I was a little bit relieved when he declined. I wasn’t sure I was ready to rock the boat between us again so soon.

“So,” my dad said to me with a sly grin as I sat down across from him at our usual restaurant, “I take it the two of you made up.” “How do you know that?” I asked.

 

“Because you’re smiling.”

 

91

 

“Oh.” It made me feel ridiculous, knowing that I was so transparent. I hid behind my menu.

 

“It seems like your relationship with him is becoming more serious after all?”

I peeked at him over the top of my menu. He wasn’t looking at me. He was fiddling with his salad fork. I put my menu down again. “I think it might be.” He sighed, and now it was his turn to pick up his menu and hide behind it. “Does that bother you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said, although I could hear the lie in his voice. “It’s none of my business.”

 

“You’re right,” I said evenly. “It doesn’t concern you in the least.”

We sat there for a minute, both of us pretending to read the menu again. Finally he put his down. “I don’t understand, Jon. You know I’ve never really understood that you liked men. And now, you find one that’s—”

“Don’t you dare say it!”

 

He stopped short, seemed to reconsider his words, and then said, “He’s not exactly masculine.”

“And if he’s not your idea of what a man is, then I might as well be with a woman. Is that it?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice low in the restaurant, despite the fact that I was so angry I could have punched him.

Luckily for him or maybe for both of us, the waiter showed up then and took our order. Once we were along again, Dad held up his hands in surrender. “Forget I said anything, Jon. Let’s change the subject.”

“Fine.”
“Tell me about work.”

“What about it?” I asked, although I knew I was only being difficult because I was still annoyed at him.

 

92

 

“Do you know any more about this restructuring? Where you’ll be going, or when it will happen?”

 

“No.” The truth was, I had been doing my absolute best to not think of it at all. “I still don’t know anything.”

 

“At the rate they’re moving, you’ll be able to retire before they can ask you to relocate.”

 

“I couldn’t be that lucky.”

 

93

Date: November 8
From: Cole
To: Jared

Fine! I admit it: we made up! Are you happy now? Jonathan realized the error of his ways and begged for my forgiveness. And if that’s not exactly the way it happened, then it’s really no business of yours anyway, is it? Now, for heaven’s sake, please stop gloating. I’ve always thought your humility was one of your better qualities. No reason to go and ruin that now.

Of course now I’m busy thinking about some of your other better qualities. I won’t elaborate, though, just in case that big bad boyfriend of yours is reading over your shoulder. I’d hate for him to have a coronary on my account.

W
E SPENT
the next few days in a blissful, honeymoon-type state that was a little bit ridiculous, but fun, too. I was worried, though. November twelfth was my birthday. I had plans to have dinner with my father that evening. I was afraid of hurting Cole’s feelings by excluding him but equally afraid of asking him to join us. I didn’t even tell him about it until the night of the tenth. “You could come with us if you want,” I said guiltily, but he just smiled.

“I don’t want you to spend your birthday worrying,” he said.

Right or wrong, I was relieved. Although I doubted it would end as badly as it had the time before, I was happy to know it would not be an issue. He spent the night with me on the eleventh and made breakfast for me the next morning. Unfortunately, I was running late, and knew I was going to have to eat fast.
94

“What took you so long?” he asked when I finally emerged from the bedroom in my suit.

“I’m running out of shirts,” I said as I sat down to eat. “I hate shopping.” I hated it so much that once I found something I liked, I bought ten of them to avoid having to shop again anytime soon. The problem was, buying everything at the same time meant they all wore out at the same time too. “Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m having dinner with my dad?” I asked for at least the fourth time in two days.

“I’m sure.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“I don’t know, love. I might be busy.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling. I knew he would be waiting for me when I got home.

My day at the office was long and tedious, and I didn’t have time to go home before meeting my dad for dinner. It was traditional for my father to buy my dinner on my birthday in lieu of a gift, so I was surprised when he showed up with a box. It wasn’t wrapped. It was metal, green with flowers on it—not exactly my style—and looked vaguely familiar.

He set it down in front of me without much fanfare. “Is this for me?” I asked.