Failing Upward Ch. 03

"Shit." He said. "I don't know if I can say this a second time."

"What?" I asked. But I was afraid to know.

"In the hospital, I told you."

I didn't think I wanted to hear this.

Sid rolled a piece of gravel under his left boot back and forth.

"You looked pretty cute in that hospital gown," he chuckled.

I even had to laugh at that. I guess Sid was trying to pick me up. Funny. I didn't feel insulted. I felt kind of, well, interested.

Maybe it was the way his thumb was nervously rubbing the leg of his faded denims. I had to ask.

"What did you say?"

The music quit playing inside. I heard Sid breathing.

"You really don't remember anything that I said to you in the hospital, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"It wasn't important."

I knew by the look on his face it was-- at least to him. I noticed his hands shaking before I realized mine were. I knew I should have said, yes it's important. I should have said, tell me. But the truth was I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know because I was afraid as much for what I was feeling as for what he had to tell me. I suddenly felt light headed and nauseous. Without the stone wall for support, I would have collapsed.

"I'm sick. I think I need to get home-- " I said.

"I'll take you." I didn't even answer, just followed him to the car.

---------------------

I felt his breath prickling tiny the hairs on my neck as he leaned in close to unlock the door on my side of his orange vintage Cutlass. I don't think feeling his muscular forearm pressed against me as he reached around to unlock the car was an accident. I felt light headed. Not from rum and coke. Mixing friendship and sex was like mixing drinks-- never a good idea. Besides, I thought, I'm not gay-- although I did like Sid.

My mind was saying no, while my body was saying yes, please, and Sid leaned in closer, pressing himself into my back. It was intoxicating. And no liquor involved. As he pressed himself in a little closer, testing to see what my reaction would be, I felt my insides turn over. Not an unpleasant feeling either. I felt Sid's firm answer to my gentle push. Then, I came to my senses. What was I doing? I pulled myself away-- my cheeks hot. But it had felt so good. No. This would cost too much.

-------------

I noticed him then, standing near to the back entrance of the Road House. I recognized him at once-- the yellow light filtering down from the rafters sharpening his unforgettable profile. The man who ordered the flowers that day.

"There," I pointed. "Is that the guy who visited me at the hospital? Lancaster? He's watching us. What do you think he wants?"

"Yes, that's him. Hey, you?!" Sid shouted. "Come here!" The man cast an impassive glance, turned and walked in the other direction. Sid started after him.

With both hands, I grabbed the back of Sid's t-shirt to stop him.

"Let him go," I whispered to Sid. "I'm not in any shape for a back alley brawl tonight."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Are you ok?"

I couldn't look Sid in the eye. I turned and walked back to Sid's car.

"I think I better get home," I looked across the top of the car at him then ducked into the passenger side quick.

All the way home, my brain flipped and flopped. I rewound the events of the last weeks. Tonight, the strange guy, Lancaster. And what the fuck was that going on in my head with Sid?

My brain flipped to Sid leaning against me by the back entrance. I knew I was in trouble when he sniffed my hair. I got scared when I realized I enjoyed the feel of him against me.

Flip-- I remembered feeling his good vibrations-- you know what I mean. When I searched his face-- I was actually blushing. Then, flop-- I gave for a moment. I almost succumbed. I almost said, let's go to your place. Then I remembered someone else's voice coming out of my mouth saying, "I think I better go home."

Hello... quit day dreaming...

Then I heard the words again, and Sid's words. I came to my senses--

"Isn't that your place?"

"What?" Ping! Back to the world. Shocked, I saw what Sid was referring to-- my house-- on fire.

Fire trucks and firemen swarmed around like angry bees. Sid slammed on the brakes and parked the Cutlass tight to the curb. I just sat there for a moment-- stunned, my sweaty body stuck to the white bucket seat. Sid opened my door. He led me like one of the Night of the Living Dead up my driveway. Why was my life falling apart? My house?

"Three," I said.

"Huh?"

"I think this is three," I said. "Bad luck come in threes. I has for me."

I wanted to cry, but I pushed it back. What was a house compared to other parts of my life I'd lost? This was nothing. My guitar was in there, but that was replaceable. Pictures weren't. My parents and sister. All I had left of them, was in there, burning down with my home.

We walked up to the scene. At least I think we did. The fire marshal asked plenty of questions. Like how much insurance I had on my house and contents; where was I before the fire; what time I left my house. The fire started in the living room with some type of accelerant.

Someone burned down my house, and they think I did it.

Now playing... Wes Grant in... Arson Suspect # 1...

I was the only suspect for the moment although they keep telling me they always ask such questions in situations like this.

Now... After successive weeks of bad luck, I topped it off with the perfect evening...

I heard Sid telling the fire marshal about my accident, about the band. And Sid added, "His home's turning into a skeleton! Can't you see he's upset? He's just recovering from head trauma."

The fireman looked at me like I was some half-drowned kitten. He asked me if I had relatives in town. I said, no, but I told him where I worked and that he could get in touch with me there. He let me go, although I wanted to stay. Kind of a self torture, I guess. But Sid made me go.

He put me in his car and drove me away. Kinda to save me from myself. I rode just staring straight ahead not saying a word for a while. Then I turned and studied Sid's face.

Funny how you can look at someone hundreds of times and never really see them.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"I would say Lynn's, but I think she has a guest tonight that I don't feel like dealing with."

"Alan," Sid replied.

"Of course."

"Listen, why don't you come home with me? I promise I wouldn't try to get in your pants." He was frowning-- after years of hanging out with Sid, I knew that studied look. He was worried. It was just that I wasn't sure what he was worried about. The fire? The stranger? My health? Getting laid? Well, probably not the last one...still. I've known Sid a long time. He was one of those nice guy types. The type a girl's mom would like them to bring home. You know. He scored 100 on the mothers' check list:

Does he come from a good family? Check!

Does he have a good job? Check!

Does he call his mother at least once a week? Check!

Does he take off his shoes at the door? Check!

Does he stand up and give his seat to women and elders on a bus? Check!

He didn't like it when people called him a nice guy. When they ticked off all these great attributes, and he turned the 'awe- shucks, that's not really me' on, which only proved the point.

Before tonight I never really looked at him as anything more than a friend. He was a guy that hung out in the same crowd. Someone I had known a long time, but really don't know that much about other than basic info: computer geek. A nice guy. Plays golf. Likes to work on cars. Gay.

I'd known inside for a while that he would like me to be more than a friend. But, 'I'm not gay.' Shit, I thought, that's becoming some kind of mantra now for me.

Besides sleeping with a friend never worked. The relationship soured, and you'd lose a good friend. Sid was a friend I won't want to lose. I didn't want that to change. I almost blew it tonight. Then, why did I feel disappointed? Not good. Nope, not good at all. And now he was studying me back. Add one more item on the check list: good guys never break their promises. He promised he won't try to get into my pants.

I'd managed to avoid going to Sid's place for years. Inside, I knew why I avoided it.

----------------------

I'd seen the outside of his small ranch house many times. Driven by loads. His house wasn't at all what I had imagined on the inside. Not neat and orderly like Sid.

"You really don't concern yourself with details like, say, sanitation," I commented, looking at the trash all over the floor.

I turned around to look at him, "Sid?" By the expression on his face as he fell over the coffee table, I could tell he was as surprised to see the room in this condition as I was. He picked himself off the floor rubbing his shins, cussing.

"What in Hell is going on here?" he asked. That was when we heard a crash. Sid began checking the rooms and came out a few minutes later with a scrawny tabby cat.

"I think the noise was Babe here."

"Party on Babe!" I said, inspecting the room further. "Next time invite me. Looks like you and your fellow felines had a smashing good time." I scratched the cat behind the ear, then flopped myself down on the well worn sofa and looked at the tossed room. Sid and his cat took a seat next to me. Sid started to frown again.

"Wes, I think you better tell me about that delivery you made before the accident."

And my hand--at least I thought it was mine-- started to move-- into his hair. God! I actually ran my hands through his hair-- "Que Sera, Sera."