“Wow, well, thank you. I have to say the same thing about you. I mean, considering what I’ve heard from Ty…” I stop myself. This is not the direction this conversation needs to go. “I’m sorry,” I spitout.
He raises his hand. “It’s fine. Trust me, I know what my son thinks of me, and that’s a whole other complicated issue. But even with whatever you’ve heard, I appreciate that you’ve at least given me achance.”
What does he think Ty’s said tome?
I’m curious. There’s something more there between Ty and Eric, in their past, just like there’s so much more to what happened earlier. There are all these parts of Eric that he hides away. It’s like a labyrinth I need to get through and figure out. I don’t know why, but I want to know. I want to do more than mess around with him. I want to be his friend. I want to get to know who he is as a person because he seems like a really coolguy.
When we finish eating, we go to a nearby bar and have a few drinks before he says it’s time to head over to the danceclub.
Guys, a lot of them not wearing shirts, drink at the various bars around the place. At the far end of the club, a strobe light flashes an assortment of colors, illuminating the fog-filled air. Some loud pop beat plays, which sounds familiar, but with all the noise in the club, I can’t make out theartist.
“How often do you come here?” I ask Eric as we sidle up to one of thebars.
“Not too often. My ex and I used to come here every time we came down tovisit.”
Ex? This is the first time I’ve heard him mention being with someone else. It reminds me how strange he is, how he tries to keep from giving away too many personal details abouthimself.
“What was his name?” Iask.
He seems taken aback by the question, like he has just realized he’s kept from mentioning him and that I have in some way called him out on his bluff on the fact that he doesn’t share verymuch.
“Casey,” hereplies.
“How long were you guystogether?”
“Threeyears.”
“Oh, wow. So…that’s a pretty decent length for arelationship.”
“Yeah, it was.” He practically says that through histeeth.
It seems like he doesn’t want me to press, and I can’t help but say, “Is every area of your life not up fordiscussion?”
It’s evident by the way his neck and jaw tense that I’ve made a huge mistake and he’s about to shutdown.
I take his wrist the way I did in the bathroom—gently, hoping to reassure him—and immediately say, “That was my bad. That came out wrong. I just want to talk to you about things, but anything you don’t want to talk about, Iunderstand.”
I’m nervous, worried I’ve totally fucked this up. I know he has things he doesn’t want to tell me about, but I just had to fucking push. And now I might have ruined our whole fucking night, which was going reallywell.
We’re back to that silence we do so well, and then he blurts out, “He decided he wanted to be with someoneelse.”
I’m thrown because I was expecting him to tell me it was none of my fuckingbusiness.
He takes a deep breath, as if he’s struggling with himself, before saying, “He was deciding for about a year that he wanted to be with someone else before he left me, while I foolishly believed we had something special. I had bought a ring, was planning to propose to him not a monthlater.”
“Oh my God.” I can understand the importance of this moment…that he pushed himself to share. He could have shut down or avoided the subject. I’m sure he knows I would have let him. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I know that might be weird, or awkward, but I meanit.”
“I’m not good at this,” Ericsays.
“Not good at what?Talking?”
“I’m not good at talking about painful things. I’m sure you probably noticed by now. And usually I’m good at redirecting the conversation, or finding a way out of it somehow, but it’s a little trickier withyou.”
“Why do you think thatis?”
“I don’t reallyknow.”
It reminds me of what I’m experiencing with him. I don’t really know either, but I don’tcare.
