Backstage Romance Ch. 08

The work, the company, and the delicious smells helped ease the remaining tension in my chest and neck. Before I knew it we were stationed in their living room with drinks, nuts and tortilla chips at hand, watching football on the TV while we waited for the turkey to finish cooking so the gluttony could begin. I smiled, thinking how Jeff would enjoy listening to Kelly and Josh banter with one another. Maybe one day we would share the same easy, affectionate relationship. I imagined the four of us doing something similar at Jeff's home some future Thanksgiving—my tiny apartment would never accommodate all of us—two couples joining in gratitude for their friendship and the lives they had built together.

To my humiliation, I found myself tearing up at the thought. Jesus, was I six years old? Kelly, still on high alert, was instantly beside me. Josh was only a few steps behind.

"What is it, Daniel? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I managed a watery smile. "I'm fine. Seriously. Except for being a sentimental fool. I love you guys, you know." Drama queen. See?

She relaxed and smiled. "We love you, too, Daniel. I think the holidays are a license to be sentimental, don't be embarrassed."

Relieved that I didn't appear to be having a relapse, Josh disappeared into the kitchen to check on the bird. Kelly gave me a penetrating look and lowered her voice. "You were thinking about him, weren't you?"

There was no need to specify which him she meant. I certainly had no reason to get sentimental about Brian. I nodded.

"I just see how you two are with each other, and I want that."

She gave me a hug. "Give it time, Daniel. Just give it time."

But what if our time together was already running out?

Josh reemerged from the kitchen. "Turkey's almost done. Who's ready to feast?"

* * *

Kelly and Josh dropped me off at my apartment hours later, clutching a huge bag full of leftovers. They'd probably prepared enough food for eight; we'd all be living on reheated turkey and stuffing for days. I'd appropriated most of the remaining yams for myself.

"You're sure you'll be okay?" Kelly asked.

"I'll be fine. Thanks, guys, I had a great time. And the food was amazing. You two should start a restaurant together, you know that?"

Josh laughed from behind the wheel of the car. "Nah, we only share our superpowers with people we can trust to protect our secret identities. You take care, man."

I made my way up the three flights of stairs and let myself into the apartment. Methodically arranged my hoard of Tupperware containers in the refrigerator. Cleaned up the disarray in the bedroom from our early morning departure. Checked the philodendron to see if it needed water. Thought about hauling out a few Christmas ornaments and getting a head start on the next holiday. Thought better of it. Wound up sitting on the love seat listening to Miles Davis instead, while I checked my production notes in preparation for the next day's dress rehearsal.

That lasted less than an hour. It was after ten, and I couldn't focus any longer. I didn't feel sleepy, in spite of a disturbed night and an obscenely large dinner. What was it I felt? I felt... horny. Ah. That was what was going on. My body was missing its mate. My mate. Jeff.

I didn't think. I don't even remember making a conscious decision. I stood up, threw on my sweater and coat, grabbed my keys, and left. Back down the three flights of stairs, down one more level to the subterranean parking lot, where my trusty, little-used Honda waited under its tarp. As I uncovered it, I could imagine it questioning me in a sleepy, confused voice: What are you doing? It isn't Saturday. You don't have to do laundry or buy groceries. Why are you taking me out at this time of night? I didn't answer.

Wednesday night's snowfall hadn't lasted long on the city streets. There were still drifts visible clinging to shaded rooftops, or piled up in alleys, little-used parking lots and front yards, but the roads were clear and free of ice. I navigated by memory: I had watched Jeff drive this route to and from the theater every day for almost two weeks. I still wasn't thinking clearly about what I planned to do when I got there. I just drove where my body told me to go. The house was still dark when I pulled up in front. I parked on the street, turned off the engine, and waited in the dark.

It might have been close to an hour later when Jeff's sports car turned onto the block, drove up the street, and coasted into the driveway. I drank in the sight of him as he stepped out of the car, stretched, and pulled an overnight bag and what I guessed was his own sack of leftovers from the back seat. His gaze passed over my car, parked in front of his house, and stopped. The moon was nearly full, but I couldn't make out his expression. I opened the door and got out. My muscles complained as I stood up; I had been sitting in the same position for too long.

Jeff's voice came softly across the yard. "Daniel?" He was standing very still in his driveway.

I took a step toward him. I hadn't thought of anything to tell him, to explain what I was doing lurking outside his empty house. I was there because I needed to be. How do you find the words to say something like that?

Jeff dropped his bags, crossed across the snow-covered lawn, and wrapped me in his arms. "I missed you," he whispered. My own arms went around him and we stood for a while, silent, holding one another.

Maybe words weren't necessary after all, I remember thinking, right before Jeff took my face in his cold hands and kissed me passionately, right there in the front yard. If any of his neighbors, restless from heartburn, perhaps, happened to wander into their living rooms and peer through their windows at that moment, they definitely got an eyeful.

I helped him carry his bags into the house and stash the food in the fridge. The moment that was done, we were kissing again, anxious to renew our connection. His hands slid under my sweater; mine tugged at his shirt buttons. We made our way to the bedroom, tripping over one another, leaving a trail of discarded clothes on the floor behind us. And once we were naked in bed together, where we belonged, with our bodies and hearts we gave thanks.