Chapter 5
657 Words
Chapter 5December 13, 2022
Evan
I must have been one of the most cheerful retail clerks in West Los Angeles these days. Not only did I have a low-stress job that let me wallow in books all day; not only did I feel indisputably better—physically, emotionally, and mentally—than I had before taking leave from the law firm: I had a boyfriend.
It’s been a long time.
A presentable man with disposable income is always going to find someone to date, or at least hook up with. A person swimming in my particular pool, meaning college-educated professionals of the suit-wearing type, has a good chance of finding someone on their own level who’s more serious. Someone open to being a boyfriend, partner, or even husband. I’ve had several boyfriends and two guys I called partners (we lived together); one of those I considered proposing to. But he disliked Los Angeles to the point of finding a job in Portland, and I didn’t want to move. It was a pretty grueling breakup. After that I settled for hookups and dating for quite a while. Not having someone important to worry about for the fifteen months it took both of my parents to die was a blessing. Nobody can comfort you when s**t like that is going down. I had to travel a lot, all my mental and emotional resources were allocated, and processing another input was simply beyond me. If I’d had a houseplant, it would’ve died too. A romantic partner would have felt like another obligation, another energy drain. And it took months to get back to something like normal.
While I wasn’t looking for a new boyfriend when Simon walked into the store, I was definitely open to the idea. Neither of us had any reason not to act on our more or less instant, obvious, and mutual interest. Even if we called it quits sometime soon, I’d still consider him the best possible Christmas present I could have gotten this year. He made me feel cute, sexy, and more fun than I’d felt for ages.
A week after our first night together, we had another one on the schedule. Simon was coming to my house for dinner again. This time we both promised to eat at the table, with our clothes on. To ensure that would happen, I invited my best friends over.
Since I was now the manager (Sanaa had gratefully demoted herself back to assistant once I was trained) with full power over the schedule, I made the executive decision to close the store at six instead of eight on the thirteenth. That gave me an hour to get home, tidy up, assemble dinner, welcome Simon when he arrived, and convince the resulting erection to settle down before the others got there.
We were both in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. “Give me that spoon.” Simon took it out of my hand and gave me a nudge.
I jogged across the house and pulled the front door open. “Hi! Come on in. Oh, you’re all together?”
Casimir led the way. “We’ve seen your tiny driveway. Gala came to our place and rode with us.”
“Hi Gala.” I kissed her cheek, shook hands with Casimir and his husband Misha, and said, “Simon’s hiding in the kitchen.”
“I’m not hiding!” he yelled from in there. “I’m stirring! And the wine is in here!”
Gala laughed. “We’re on our way!”
Two minutes later four people were standing around with glasses in hand, supervising while I pulled things out of the oven, turned off the cooktop, deployed serving utensils, plates, and bowls, then stood back and said, “Dig in.”
Yes, there was a time when a dinner party was a much more formal affair. I ditched formal after that guy who moved to Portland.
- Writer
