The Surprise Weekend Visitor

"I'm not taking 'No' for an answer. We're picking you up at 6:00. Be ready." Elena's scolding glare leaves no room for debate. I guess I'm going to dinner tonight with her, her husband Oliver and her cousin Ramon. Ramon is here in Chicago because of a big conference at McCormick Place on Monday. Elena invited him to come in early for a weekend visit. He's staying with them. He flies back home to Portland first thing Tuesday morning.

Elena has been my best friend since we were both ten years old in the fifth grade. She's done so much for me making it impossible to say "No" to her perfectly reasonable request. We text about a thousand times a day but she also calls me every Tuesday and Thursday night, forcing live human interaction. I've also committed to our regular Saturday afternoon lunches, which is what we're doing right now. I think that she thinks that if she didn't drag me out of my apartment every Saturday afternoon, that I'd hole up and become a shut-in. And while that does sound tempting, I'm not quite as fucked up as she's afraid I might be.

I have a job, though I do work from home, as a financial advisor. I could order everything I ever need online and never leave, but I really don't want to be a recluse. I force myself to get out. I go to doctor's appointments, dentist appointments, I grocery shop once a week... What I don't do is anything social. With the lone exception of Saturday lunches with Elena, I do not go to bars, restaurants, movies, malls or anywhere that is not a necessity. Not for the last two years anyway.

Two years ago, Carter left me. Couples break up all the time. I get that. We weren't special. Except we really were. We were Felix and Carter. We met at age twenty in the middle of college, became friends, started dating and fell in love. Right out of college, we got an apartment together. We were everything to each other. We liked all the same music, shows, movies, books, foods, wines, sports... Elena met Oliver just after college and the four of us became inseparable couple-friends. Carter and I were deliriously happy together. Or so I thought. At least I was.

We were always among the first to try a new restaurant or bar, but we would have just as much fun ordering in and watching a movie. Or playing music. Carter wasn't a musician, but he could harmonize with the best of them. We would sit at my piano, coasters and wine glasses on the lid, his arm around my shoulder, one song after another. Happy songs for happy times. I still play piano every day, but now... Only the sad mournful songs. Played by myself, for myself. Songs like I can't Make You Love Me, Someone Like You, And So It Goes and Strange Room. I know... I really should sell my piano.

Two years ago was a year of celebrations. Four thirtieth birthdays and a ten year anniversary. The birthdays were all group parties, like that episode of Friends, but for our ten year anniversary, Carter and I celebrated alone. We had a lovely sushi dinner with an expensive white wine and a crème brûlée for dessert. Everything was perfect. We had talked about getting married dozens of times before. I honestly didn't think he was even mildly surprised when I proposed that night. I gave him a silver band for the fourth finger of his left hand. He, after jumping up and down while shedding tears of joy, carried me to our bed and gave me a "Yes" along with the blow job of my life. He brought an animal noise out of me that made our neighbor scream, "Shut up!" and pound on the wall.

That weekend, we began discussing dates and venues. We both wanted an October wedding with fall colors surrounding us. Every decision came so easily because we were essentially two halves of the same person. And then, just two short weeks later, I found myself holding his silver ring and watching his back as he walked out the door. Forever.

When he first told me that he was offered the job of his dreams, I was thrilled. Then he told me that the job was in New York. I was still thrilled. My own job had been transitioning more and more to working from home. I figured a move would be no big deal. And even if my company had a problem with it, surely there were hundreds if not thousands of financial advisory opportunities in NYC. Elena would be pissed that I'd be moving away, but with texts, calls and monthly weekend visits, she'd eventually be fine. I was 100% on board with being the supportive partner.

And then he told me that we needed to talk. It all became a blur to me but the gist of it was that this was a move he wanted - no, needed - to make on his own. It wasn't me, it was him. He had come to realize that he wasn't a "settle down and get married" kind of a person and that he didn't want to stand in my way of finding my own happiness. Finding my own happiness? Like I hadn't found that a decade ago. By that point, I could see his lips were moving but I could no longer hear what he was saying. Was it our engagement? Was it turning thirty - an early midlife crisis? He had said it wasn't me, but how could it not be? If it wasn't me, then he wouldn't have left me behind. His last kind act was that he had called Elena and asked her to come over. Within five minutes of him walking out of our door for his final time, Elena walked in through it.

Oliver really is the best husband, the most understanding straight guy and just the best person I know. His wife moved in with me for a whole week and he never once complained. Several times he brought over food and ate dinner with us, only to kiss Elena on the cheek and wrap me in a genuine hug before leaving us alone again. He just knew. I needed my best friend. And while he'd never have a reason to be jealous of me from a romantic standpoint, most guys would be at least a little jealous of the time our friendship took Elena away from him. But Elena and I were deeply bonded for two thirds of our lives. Oliver knew from day one that falling in love with Elena meant loving me too. Or at least accepting me? Tolerating me? Elena and I are a package deal and Oliver gets it. And I love him for that, among the long list of things that make him and Elena the dream couple that they are.

When Carter told me he was going to New York without me, his suitcases were already packed and hiding in the bedroom. The whole conversation barely lasted fifteen minutes. And suddenly he was gone. My life went from normal to nuclear disaster in a quarter of an hour. He told me that we'd keep in touch. That we'd always be friends. That this wasn't really goodbye.

It was really goodbye.

After a week of trying to figure out where I fucked up, what I did wrong and why this all happened, I found no answers and I had run out of tears. It was time. I kicked Elena out. She was willing to stay longer, but there was nothing else she could do. She needed to get back to own life, her job and her saint of a husband.

But that was the beginning of our rigid schedule of texts, calls and lunches. She let a whole year go by before she started pushing for me to get back out there. To meet and see new people. To go on a date. For the last year, she has been trying to set me up with a guy she works with - Miguel. I've never met Miguel, but he is her work friend. Her work husband, Oliver jokes. Elena, having grown up in a house full of sisters, as an adult surrounds herself with men. Friends - Felix and Carter (former). Husband - Oliver. Work Friend - Miguel. Even their cat, Cujo, is a boy.

Every time she mentions Miguel, I shut her down immediately. I am just not ready. Not even for something casual. A one-night fling would be too much right now. I am still a ridiculous mess and it wouldn't be fair to the other person - Miguel. I need to understand where it all went wrong with Carter. I obviously can't read people and I suck at being a boyfriend. I can't risk screwing up again. I can't go through this again. It will break me. Next time, I won't recover. Not that most people would consider me recovered today.

I had been making progress. A year ago, I really thought I was getting there. But then... My world exploded all over again. I didn't want to block Carter on all social media platforms, so despite the fact that we do not communicate directly with each other, he is still a connection. But even if he wasn't, I still would have found out. We have too many "friends" in common for me not to. Only one short year after leaving his ten year committed relationship with me, Carter, the guy who is just not a "marriage kind of a guy", got engaged. Wow. So... It wasn't the idea of commitment and marriage. It was committing to and marrying me that was the problem.

That was when I had my first panic attack. I was all alone when it came on and I called no one. I just waited it out. It was terrifying. I thought I was dying. Turns out, I wasn't. I had just read shocking news about my former boyfriend and fiancé and I freaked out. I never told Elena. She would have freaked out even more. She would have moved in with me again. She would have forced me to see a therapist, which I know I should but I just can't bring myself to wallow in pity in front of a stranger. I've had three panic attacks in total, all of them while I was alone and the last was more than six months ago.

Reading about Carter on social media a year ago was also when Elena began her "Felix and Miguel" campaign. To this day, she brings him up every couple of weeks, telling me how sweet he is and letting me know that he's still single. I would do anything for Elena, including going to dinner tonight with her, Oliver and her cousin Ramon, but hooking up with Miguel? That's where I draw the line.

I didn't just think that Carter was my one and only special person... I felt it. Just a look or a touch from him and I'd feel a tingle roll all the way down to my toes. And I'm devastated to discover that I didn't do the same for him.

As of now, I'm mostly okay. I have my moments, but I live a productive, content life. I have my work, my apartment, my piano and I'm the occasional third wheel to Elena and Oliver. While I am not hoping against getting romantically involved again, at this point, I just don't see it.

We're nearing the end of our lunch when one of my "moments" sneaks up on me. Not a full blown panic attack, but still, a moment. Elena can immediately read it on my face. "Oh, sweetie." She touches my forearm.

I look up at her with watery eyes, "Was I too pushy? Too presumptuous? Too needy?"

She knows to say nothing. She knows my questions are rhetorical. That I'm just thinking out loud. She knows the last thing I want or need is to be placated.

"Was I not smart enough? Funny enough? Cute enough?"

This time she can't hold her tongue, "Oh my god! You are ridiculously cute."

"I know! I'm adorable!"

She snorts, "And all of those other things too."

My moment is over. She gives my arm another squeeze. I grab the check before she can and she checks the time on her phone. "I have to get to the airport and pick up Ramon."

Ramon. Why is it so important to her that I meet him? Generally speaking, odds are against any random person being gay, but the way she's pushing, maybe he is. And if so, that's not necessarily a welcome complication. What does she think is going to happen? He lives in freaking Portland! And what about poor Miguel, whom I've never met but suddenly feel sorry for? Is Ramon supposed to be my rebound from Carter? A springboard into what she hopes could be a future with Miguel? Would that be fair to Ramon? Okay. I need to stop my brain from running wild here. None of these insane thoughts matter because nothing is going to happen. Ramon (whether he falls under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella or not) is Elena's cousin. We are simply having dinner. All four of us. He's staying with them for a few days and I am part of only a few hours of that time. That's all.

I pull out my credit card, "I've been your best friend for twenty two years. How come I'm just hearing about this Cousin Ramon now?"

"Our two sides of the family are not that close. We'll tell you the story at dinner tonight." She pockets her phone and slips into her jacket. "Six o'clock." She kisses my forehead.

~~

As much as I didn't want it to, getting ready for tonight's dinner has felt like getting ready for a date. That's something I haven't felt in years. I spent too much time picking out my clothes and futzing with my hair. Why? And as it approaches six o'clock, I'm feeling nervous. Again, why?

Elena is supposed to text when they pull up out front so I can run down and hop in. The text doesn't come. Instead, there's an unexpected knock on my door. I pull it open, revealing my best friend and a very, very attractive guy. I had an image in my mind of what Ramon might look like and I was close. Olive skin, wide brown eyes and wavy dark brown hair. He's way past cute. Not that that will matter. But then he smiles and my knees weaken. I feel a tingle and a shiver.

I shake it off and ask Elena, "Why are you up here and I'm not down there?"

I'm just now registering the look on her face. Something is wrong. "Sweetie, what is it?" I step aside and let them both in. I also register that Ramon wheels a suitcase inside with him. "What is going on here?"

Elena says, "Oliver's dad was in an accident. He's in the hospital. His mom is a wreck and we need to be there."

I hug her, "Pass this hug on to Oliver for me. Tell him I'll sing a song for him and his family." They know I don't do "thoughts and prayers". That's never been my thing.

She nods, "Oliver is booking a flight to Phoenix for us as we speak. We need to leave tonight." She glances from me to Ramon then back at me. "We couldn't just abandon Ramon. This is his first time in Chicago. He knows no one and nothing about the city. His conference starts Monday morning, so flying all the way back to Portland on Saturday night makes no sense. You have an extra bedroom here. He just needs a place to sleep and some company for the next thirty-six hours. A Lyft is picking him up Monday morning."

A suspicious mind might wonder. This seems like an awfully big coincidence. But the concern on her face appears to be genuine. This isn't the time to challenge or interrogate her. She needs to get back to Oliver so they can get to his parents.

I tell her, "Of course. Text me when you land safely and let me know how it's going."

And with that, she's gone. And Ramon is here. Remembering that I am a human being in society, I turn to Ramon and shake his hand. It feels warm, smooth and strong. As surprising and awkward as this is for me, it must be doubly so for him. I dumbly introduce myself as Felix. Duh. Who else would I be? He laughs politely.

"Dinner!" I say as if one word makes a complete sentence. "We need food." Now I sound like a caveman.

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me. We could order in and I could treat you to pizza or we could use the restaurant reservation Elena made. I'm the intruder here."

"You're not an intruder. You're my guest." He hasn't taken his jacket off yet so I can't see his whole build, but from what I can tell, he seems to be nicely toned. It occurs to me that Ramon is the first man besides Oliver (and me) to enter my apartment in two years. I was both physically and mentally prepared to go out tonight, so why not? I slip on my own jacket and wiggle my feet into shoes. I tell him with more confidence than I feel, "Let's use that reservation."

~~

Over dinner we get to know each other. I attempt to downplay how tragic the last two years of my life have been, but I do offer him a Cliff's Notes version of my time with Carter and the breakup. It's part of who I am. He listens with genuine interest that makes me think that maybe Elena didn't already give him the rundown on her sad best friend Felix. That would be unlike her. Though, she really hasn't told me anything about Ramon either. Just that he's her cousin and lives in Portland.

I find that I enjoy his biography tremendously. He tells me about growing up as the middle of three boys in St. Louis. About feeling lost in the middle. About coming out to his parents and brothers at the age of sixteen and about how he was glad to escape to Oregon after college when the opportunity presented itself. Not that his family has been that bad, but they haven't been that great either. And neither was the town. Or at least his part of it.

"So, I'm dying to hear the story of you and Elena. I've known her for most of our lives but I only first heard of you this afternoon."

"The truth is, we're not actually related. Not really." He sips his wine, "I have an uncle who decades ago married Elena's aunt. We've been told by our parents that we're some kind of cousins, but there's no blood between us. Second and third cousins are confusing enough, but start adding in once or twice removed and I'm totally lost. In college I avoided a class on genealogy to protect my GPA."

I laugh.

"We only saw each other a couple times as kids - a family reunion and a funeral. Then when we were twenty, we were at the same wedding and really met each other for the first time. Neither of us really liked the family member whose wedding it was and we bumped into each other at the bar. We connected right away and we've stayed in touch over the phone and online ever since."

As we continue to talk, he reveals to me that he too went through a rough breakup. His was three years ago. The guy's name was David. He's still raw and he hasn't gotten back out there yet either. His open frankness brings me to open up more about Carter too. We order dessert and I'm glad when he doesn't order the crème brûlée.

The restaurant is only four blocks away, so on this crisp autumn evening, we decide to walk. The route takes us right past the Sushi restaurant where Carter and I celebrated our ten year anniversary. The night I proposed. Ramon can feel the change in my vibe. Without having to ask, he knows. He says, "I hate sushi." True or not, he's sweet for saying that.

Back home, I finally get him out of his jacket to find that I was right. He appears to be nicely toned under his snug-fitting shirt. His jeans are snug too. I look away.

Ironically, the Bulls are playing the Trail Blazers tonight and I put on the second half of the game. We playfully trash talk each other's team as we share the couch. At one point I notice goosebumps on his arms and I realize that it is chilly in here. I pull down the blanket that is draped over the back of the couch and spread it over both of us. Ramon slips out of his shoes and tucks his feet under him. His eyes drift closed then open repeatedly and I gradually reduce the volume on the TV. The guy did travel two thirds of the way across the country today. I'd be falling asleep too.

It's not long before he's out cold. His body has sunk down into a less upright position as he unconsciously snuggles into the warmth of the blanket. As his body shifts, his feet wander closer to me, eventually making contact with my thigh. If I shift or get up, I'll wake him. I let his toes grip at my leg. His feet are warm and they make me flush. They also make my crotch tighten inside of my skinny jeans. I realize that the basketball game is over and I have no idea who even won. I click off the TV. Between the warmth of the blanket, the body of a sexy man so close to me and the soothing sound of Ramon's calm breathing, I fall asleep too.

~~

I bolt upright, wide awake. Somehow, I'm holding onto Ramon's socked foot. Ramon is awake now too and he's in distress. He's shaking, sweating and breathless. I recognize the symptoms. I release his foot, cast off the blanket, take his hands in mine and force eye contact. I ask him, "What do you need?"

He shakes his head with bulging eyes.