Riley told me that the mechanics are eager to make peace and get along with the rest of the gayborhood. Now that he’s taken steps in the right direction, we can meet them on better ground.
The morning is such a success, I’m practically floating when I rush out the door for my lunch date with NotAnOgre. We’ve agreed to meet at a casual café on the opposite side of downtown from the gayborhood, somewhere we might have a little privacy. I’ve changed into one of my favorite outfits, linen pants with a pink-striped shirt and a vintage pair of loafers. I’ve told NotAnOgre I’ll be wearing the lavender to identify myself, and I happily swing the little gift bag as I walk to the bus.
After using the fob on my keychain to get on, there’s a nice seat open in the back, and I enjoy the chance to center myself. We ride through a sunny day in the city as I gaze out the window and dream about what might happen.
This could be the start of something big. A major relationship in my life. NotAnOgre and I have such a unique, deep intimacy and familiarity through our letters. We’ve been vulnerable together, sharing our creative sides and some of our fantasies. I feel like I’m heading to a first date, but also to reunite with an old friend.
The bus begins to fill up, and I see an older man who looks tired shuffling around for a spot. I offer him my seat and stand in the middle, holding one of the metal bars as I get jostled around a bit. Once we’re through downtown, the crowd starts to thin and I find another seat as I look for my stop.
When I swing my bag around front, I open it to check the boutonniere hasn’t been crushed, but find something wrapped in plastic instead. I gasp under my breath as I pull it out and see that it’s a sandwich, followed by another sandwich, then a third sandwich. At the bottom, there’s a short note.Enjoy your day! I used the honeybuns for my honeybun. Love, Nicholas
It’s Clay’s lunch! I must have grabbed the wrong bag at Bloom. Clay must be walking around with my phone and wallet.
I jump to my feet, although there’s nothing to do. When the bell rings and the driver announces my stop, I blink back to attention and hurry off.
I’m disoriented. Maybe this can be a cute story, though. Not that this date is lacking in backstory. Or that it’s even necessarily a date.
With a deep breath, I collect myself.
I’ve got forty dollars cash in my back pocket, which I always keep for emergencies. The address of the café comes quickly to mind, and when I glance around the corner, I’m reasonably certain of where I am. I’ll be able to meet NotAnOgre and make my way home without a phone or a wallet.
Determined not to let this throw me, I start down the street.
“Lavender,” I whisper, and snap my fingers.
I offered to wear the flower to make this easy, but now I wish that I had told NotAnOgre to bring something identifying, too. Without my signifier, how will we recognize each other? I’ll have to go around the café asking everyone if they’re here because of a faerie prince.
This part of Buffalo is a thriving retail district, so logic holds that there’s a flower shop somewhere near. Lavender is common enough, too. I get directions from a friendly man with a gold tooth, but when I arrive where he pointed me, someone at that corner tells me the flower shop has recently closed and sends me back toward the bus stop. Finally, I do find a little shop with gifts and flowers.
“Lavender?” I ask after I hurry in. “Do you have a sprig for a boutonniere?”
The woman behind the counter shakes her head. “Sold my last lavender an hour ago. How about a nice rose?”
I hurry back out. My thoughts are spinning. The little neighborhood I’m running around isn’t as intuitively laid out as I would have hoped, either, and it takes me a minute to reorient back toward the café.
I’m certainly already late, I realize, and curse under my breath, no phone to check the time on.
Better to get to the date, flowers or not.
When I arrive to the café, I take a moment to compose myself at the end of the block. A swirl of nervous energy turns into excitement, hope rising up as I prepare to meet the man inside. I want to be present and connected, truly here for the moment, whatever it might bring.
After one more deep breath, I walk into the café. It’s filling up with a lunch crowd, but with one quick glance around, my eyes land on him.
On Riley.
My head spins. Why is Riley here? He’s wearing a clean white T-shirt. There’s a book on the table in front of him and an empty cup of coffee along with a plate of crumbs. He’s scowling at the table and doesn’t look up to see me.
He’s here because Riley is NotAnOgre.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, and all the pieces start to fall into place in my mind. Riley’s books including so many of NotAnOgre’s favorites... The two of them sharing the same opinions aboutGalaxy Demons... Their personalities, ways of thinking, senses of humor...
Everything I’ve learned about NotAnOgre over the years comes rushing back, and none of it contradicts Riley.
My heart leaps into my throat, and a wide, happy smile fills my face. It’s really him. It’s Riley. Now that I see it, there’s no doubt or confusion.
And not only that, I’m happy that it’s him. I want this, I realize. I wanthim.
He must feel me staring, because he looks up, eyes right at me. There’s a twitch in his expression, something I can’t process. That hope inside me bubbles up, and I meet his gaze with a wide smile.
