Flyleaf

Chapter 1-3

“And how did Colby State manage to lure you here?”

“For one thing, WVU already had a Lost Generation person. And as long as she was around, I’d never have been able to teach graduate courses, and only occasional undergrad courses in my area. CSU not only offered me a solo position with regard to early twentieth-century American lit, they offered me more money, too.”

“Great! Good for us!” Jake said.

Jim nodded. “But you were there for how long? Fifteen years? Leaving must have been a bit of a wrench.”

“Yeah, it was.” Adam decided to be up front with these guys since he felt so comfortable with them. “But I was in a relationship that had sort of fizzled out. Brian, my ex, got an offer to go to UCLA, and we decided we both needed a fresh start.”

“Oh,” Jim said. “That must be tough.”

“You know, I’m sure we did the right thing. But I still love him.”

“Though the bloom is off the rose?” Jim asked.

Remembering his earlier thoughts about clichés, Adam smiled and nodded. “As I said, I love Bri, but we’re not in love anymore.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here,” Jake said. He glanced at Jim and asked, “Anyone for a brandy?”

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Adam hesitated. Then he decided it couldn’t hurt to stay a while. It was only a little after nine.

The conversation over brandy turned to getting Adam plugged in to the Colby community. He asked about their primary care physician, their dentist, their ophthalmologist. Jim left for a few minutes and came back with a piece of paper on which he’d listed the names and phone numbers of the doctors they went to.

“Oh, while I’m at it, I’d like to have some bookshelves made. I want to fill one whole wall of my study with shelving. Got any suggestions?”

“You looking for something inexpensive?”

“Probably not. I’d want a custom job. Glass fronts on some of them.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Jimmy, I do think Professor Craig is a collector.”

“Ah, yes. That would explain the glass fronts.”

“I have a small collection. But you won’t want to get me started on that.”

“Let me guess,” the ex-detective said. “Your field is the Lost Generation. You wouldn’t collect first editions, would you? There must be some around.”

“Spot on, Sherlock,” Adam said, grinning. “First editions from that period are less expensive than, say, those from the eighteenth century, but I still have to shop carefully and force myself to be patient.”

“I’ve got a guy in mind for your shelving,” Jake said, “but you may have to be patient about that, too.”

“Who?” Jim asked.

“Oh, you know, that young friend of Dave Cromer’s. I hear he does beautiful cabinet and furniture work, but he’s booked up for months in advance.”

“If he’s good, I’d be willing to wait.”

“Tell you what,” Jake said. “Give me your phone number and your home email, unless you’d like me to contact you via campus email. I’ll call Dave soon and see how you can get in touch with…”

“His name’s Micah,” Jim prompted.

“Yeah, that’s it! Micah.”

“I have a mnemonic device: I think of Formica and a cabinet maker, hence Micah.”

Both Adam and Jake chuckled.

“I’d appreciate knowing how to get in touch with him.”

Jake handed him a pen and a small note pad, on which he wrote his home phone and email.

* * * *

A while later Adam took his leave. Both his hosts hugged him and said they’d have to get together again soon.

“Do you know how to get home?” Jim asked.

“I think so.”

“Well,” Jake said, “just turn right at the end of the driveway and you’ll wind up back in Colby.”

“I suppose I can’t get lost if it’s that simple.”

He didn’t get lost, and that was a relief. He’d have been embarrassed if he’d had to use the Garmin, even if he was the only person who knew.

Back in his apartment he was happier than he’d been in a long time. Colby didn’t seem to be so foreign, wasn’t such a lonely place. Adam liked Jim and Jake and was looking forward to meeting their friends. He was also interested to know that one of the Colby Queers group was a published novelist. He wondered what sort of thing he wrote or whether he’d ever heard of him. He’d have to ask about that.

After he’d taken off his clothes and brushed his teeth, he sat, naked, at his PC to check his email one last time before going to bed.

The only item in his Inbox was a monthly circular from Biggs and Lucarno, a rare and used book dealer from whom he’d bought a Bromfield a while back. He had exchanged several emails with Tony Lucarno, the proprietor, and they had talked once on the phone. There was nothing of interest on the current list.

Wait a minute! His shop is in Ann Arbor. That can’t be too far away! Maybe I could run up there and check it out one of these days.

Since leaving the house he and Brian had shared, he’d not slept well. It just wasn’t the same, being in an empty bed. Even though their s*x had cooled off for some reason neither understood, Bri was a cuddler, and Adam missed that.

He poured himself a rocks glass half full of Jack Daniels and drank it. Then he brushed his teeth and went to bed. The whiskey, along with what he’d drunk at Jake and Jim’s, insured him a good night’s sleep.