eighteen
“What doyou think about the place?” Mae glanced at Dell, who was looking over the landscape of Moonie’s while their favorite butch bartender grabbed their drinks. One of Dell’s hands rested on the edge of the bar, his body just behind hers. She liked it a little too much, the brush of his chest against her shoulder. It felt like a distinctly couple-ish pose, like she was meant to lean back into him. “I can tell you’re thinking something.”
Dell looked down at her, quirking a brow as the bartender brought them their drinks.
“I was just thinking,” he said after giving the bartender a nod and retrieving his IPA, “that this place looks like any other dive bar on the coast I’ve ever been to.”
Mae smiled around the tiny straw of her vodka cranberry as they pushed away from the bar.
Thatwaswhat made The Moonlight Café so great. In a city chock full of hipness, it was decidedly a dive, on a lonely stretch of industrial wasteland in the north of the city. A place meant for truckers, taken over by queers.
“It’s different, though.” Mae stepped to the side, paused along the wall underneath a mirror that advertised Miller High Life. She wanted to talk about this with Dell before they made their way back to the group. “Because we’re safe here. You know?”
Mae hadn’t been surprised that Dell had never been to Moonie’s, that he seemed to have never even heard of it. Every queer Mae knew had been here at least once, but Dell was clearly a person who wasn’t super obvious about his queerness, and she had no idea what his life in Portland had been like. She’d been dying to ask him more about it, this last day and a half, today especially, as they explored the city more well-rested. They’d spent a healthy chunk of the day at the storage unit, but she’d also shared her favorite breakfast sandwich, her favorite matcha, her favorite scoop of gelato. She’d made him drive past her most recent apartment, partly to see how it made her feel—sentimental but not regretful, the optimal result—but mostly just because she wanted to show him.
He had been calm and good-natured the whole time, even as she’d continued watching him for signs of stress. But he had never once broken his easy I’m Just Visiting facade, never given any indication that he knew the place. NoI used to go here, too, nothis was my old neighborhood.She wanted to know his old neighborhood, the places he used to go, as badly as she wanted to show him hers. But she’d kept her mouth shut, because she knew it was likely a miracle he was here with her at all. She’d kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to hurt him.
But for her sanity, she had to know that he understood Moonie’s.
“Iwantto feel comfortable at any old dive bar on the coast,” she continued. “Iwantto feel safe at Freddy Hampton’s. But I don’t. And IknowI am here, from the moment I walk in the door. You have to get that, right? That that’s important.”
She looked into Dell’s brown eyes, imploring.
“Yeah, Mae,” he said, those eyes suddenly as gentle as his voice. “I get it.”
She wanted to keep looking at him. She wanted to lean into him, hidden here against the wall. She wanted to taste the hops on his lips.
She turned and walked to their table instead, in the middle of the main room on the other side of the bar, to the right of the dance floor. She slipped into her seat next to Vik, Dell sliding in next to her. The karaoke was already in swing, a singer Mae didn’t know doing their best Avril Lavigne.
“Hey, Dell, good to see you again.” Ben leaned across the table. “I forgot to ask you yesterday—do you happen to know Emerson King? He owns a farm out on the coast, just a bit north of Greyfin Bay.”
Dell shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “Can’t say I do.”
Ben slumped back against his seat.
“That’s too bad. He comes up to farmers’ markets here sometimes; we somehow befriended him last year.”
Alexei shook his head. “Somehow,” he said with a small smile at Ben. And to Dell: “Ben befriends everyone.”
“Couldn’t relate,” Dell said. Alexei’s smile grew.
“Anyway, he sells some delicious stuff, and takes care of our dog whenever we fly back East. He just went through a divorce recently, and I think he could use some friends. He’s a good guy.”
“Ben.” Alexei shook his head again. “Stop trying to set Emerson up. I think he’s doing just fine.”
“What’s his name again? Maybe I can sell some of his stuff at the store.” Mae got out her phone and opened up the notes app, her newest best friend.
“Emerson King. Owner of Short King Farms.”
Mae threw her head back and laughed. Even Dell chuckled beside her. It was hard to hear anything at Moonie’s, once the karaoke got going, but Mae could still feel the vibrations of Dell’s chuckle, like they rumbled through her own chest.
“Okay,yes,” she gathered herself enough to say. “I remember you mentioning this now. This is excellent.”
Dell said, “You guys have a dog?”
Mae turned then, as Alexei and Dell exchanged slide shows, to listen in as Theo complained about a new coworker to Vik. As Ozzy lamented one of their old favorite restaurants shutting down. As Jackson talked more, somehow, about bread.
Until one of their favorite Moonie’s regulars, an attractive, athletic-looking guy, approached the mic.
