“Tell me again why we’re doing this.” Josh grinned, but beneath the grin, I bet there was a little annoyance lurking. We’d been together now for several months. I could honestly say all had been going well. I was thrilled to have someone to snuggle up next to as the nights grew colder. Fall was here and winter was nipping at its heels.
But the one thing I grew a little tired of was the fact that it was always justus. Josh seemed to have no friends. He occasionally mentioned an acquaintance from work or a college roommate he’d connected with on social media, but in all our time together, I’d yet to meet even one single friend of his. Ithought that was odd, but I’d never admit that to him. I didn’t want to shame or embarrass him.
The fact that he was pressuring me to move in with him made me even more on edge.
“Because it’ll be good, maybe, to have another couple to hang out with and they seemed nice.”
I had to practically drag Josh out last weekend to Big Chicks. He initially agreed to go on Saturday afternoon, but as the evening wore on, I noticed he was dragging his feet—pouring me a third glass of red wine after we’d finished our Giordano’s stuffed pizza, starting a movie he said was his favorite on Amazon Prime. “Really?Fatal Attraction?” I’d asked. “I’ve seen it before and I know you have.”
He was agonizingly slow getting dressed.
We ended up not getting on the L at Jarvis until after ten. By then, I was feeling frustrated, yet determined to not let him control this narrative. I didn’t say it, but thought we were spending too much time alone together. He was wonderful, thoughtful, kind, and sexy as hell, but I wanted us to know other people, to have conversations about things outside Josh’s and my little bubble. The memory of Zoom meetings and isolation during COVID were still fresh; I never wanted to experience that kind of separation again, even if I felt that Josh wouldn’t mind.
Once we’d gotten to Big Chicks, he at last relaxed, after a beer. They played a lot of his favorite music that night, alternative stuff from the 1990s, like Liz Phair, REM, the Cranberries, and Radiohead. The crowd was lively, but chill.
We sat at the bar.
It was around midnight when we met Michael and Dan. The seats next to us vacated and they slid right in, all smiles. Michael was the more outgoing of the pair and he and I clicked pretty much immediately. He had prematurely gray hair, hazel eyes, and a lean build. He could have been the love child of RichardGere and Anderson Cooper. I admit I was attracted, not just to his looks, but also to his friendly demeanor.
“Hope you guys don’t mind us crowding you a little.” Michael grinned and raised a hand to the bartender. He ordered for both of them—a gin and tonic for him and a Stella for Dan, who lurked silently beside him. Dan was stocky, with brownish-blond hair, brown eyes, and a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“Not at all,” I hastened to say. Josh stared resolutely away from them, as though he’d just noticed the Diane Arbus photograph of the stripper on the wall for the first time.
This was the first time, believe it or not, Josh and I had interacted with another couple. I could have taken the cues Josh sent me and simply turned back to him, giving him all my attention (which I believe is what he would have liked). But, even though I didn’t know if this would be a few casual words between strangers or the beginnings of a friendship, I was determined to try to at least be sociable. I yearned for company other than our own little bubble. So, I grabbed Josh’s arm, smiling, and introduced us both to them.
“We’re a couple,” Josh felt compelled to add after we’d exchanged names.
“Okay, us too.” Michael took a sip of beer. “We just moved to Chicago a few months ago from Columbus. Loving it so far.”
To my surprise, we ended up deep in conversation for the next hour or so. Michael was gregarious to the point of being annoying, but I kind of appreciated his talkativeness because Josh, while friendly, was quieter than he’d been earlier when it was only me.
We shared our backgrounds, schools attended, music we loved and hated, films we adored, and more. I told them all about Chicago’s ethnic diversity and the hidden gems of restaurants it would take newcomers years to discover—placeslike the Vietnamese Hai Yen on Argyle, or just a stone’s throw away, Ethiopian Diamond on Broadway.
In the end, I proposed the dinner that was about to happen in fewer than two hours. Michael and Dan were thrilled. I think they were just as desperate for friends as I was, even if they had different reasons.
All the way home on the L, though, Josh was quiet.
I attributed it to being tired.
The only thing that seemed off was that he asked me if I realized how obvious it was to Dan and him how attractive I found Michael.
I laughed and he didn’t. “You’re not serious?”
“I’m surprised you could keep your tongue in your mouth.”
I laughed again and pretended I thought he was joking.
*
Josh and I stood on my balcony, waving at Michael and Dan. They were on the street below, heading toward the L, a block away on Jarvis. They lived only about three or four stops away in the Edgewater neighborhood, very close to where Josh lived.
The evening had actually gone better than I expected. It was a little past midnight and I was happy with the meal (the roast chicken was my best ever) and with their company. We sat around the dining room table until just a few minutes ago, laughing and exchanging stories. They already felt like old friends.
There was lots of hugging and promises to see each other again soon at the door as they prepared to leave.
Josh and I stepped out onto the balcony, into the chilly fall air, and watched them from above. After they’d disappeared around the corner at Ashland Avenue, I turned to Josh. “I think that went very well.”
“I suppose so.” His lips were a thin line and his arms were crossed.
