Pivot

Chapter 1-2

When we met the next morning, I was nervous. It didn’t matter that I’d spent two hours talking with Darren at the party the previous night, I still felt like a high school kid on his first date. I drank a lot of coffee that morning which only added to my anxiety. Darren, on the other hand, seemed perfectly cool, calm, and collected.

Even though Chris had told me he’d heard Darren had broken up with his boyfriend, I asked if he was seeing anyone.

“Not anymore,” he said with a dry laugh. “I’m living in my sister’s basement now because things didn’t work out with Carlos, the guy I used to live with.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We just stopped enjoying each other. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” My last boyfriend, Allan, and I had broken up nearly a year ago with no great fanfare and no great loss on either side. Our relationship had petered out long before we finally cut our ties for good. I think we only stayed together as long as we did because we were both too lazy to look for someone else.

“Really? Good looking guys like you aren’t usually alone.”

I felt my face flush. “Thanks.” Being complimented on my appearance was certainly flattering. Turning forty a few months earlier and feeling that I looked my age or older had put a damper on my self-esteem. Even with a full head of mostly dark hair and a body that was in pretty good shape, I was no George Clooney and heads didn’t turn for me the way they used to.

“I’m surprised you’re not with someone,” Darren said.

“Well, I haven’t exactly been looking.”

“Why not?”

Apathy? Fear? Complacency? All of the above? “Sometimes it’s just easier to be alone,” I told him. “Sometimes.”

A smile broke out across his face and he hung his head as he laughed softly. God, I had to have him and the thought of not having him made me sick. I couldn’t imagine walking away from Darren without ever kissing him, touching him, or seeing his naked body. Sealing the deal with him was imperative. What had Chris asked me the previous night? Did I want a taste of Darren? I wanted more than a taste. I wanted a four-course meal.

I managed to calm down enough to get through breakfast without making a fool out of myself. Despite my protests, Darren took care of the check, reminding me he’d invited me for breakfast, not the other way around. As we left the restaurant and walked out onto the street, I knew it was now or never to try and get him to my place. I was about to ask if he had plans for that night when he turned to me and said, “Listen, Mark, you’re not just interested in me because you want to bang a black guy, are you? I mean, this isn’t some kind of fetish thing with you, is it?”

I forced myself not to laugh. While Darren’s concerns were certainly valid, I still found them amusing. My interest in him had nothing to do with his race. Frankly, the fact he was black worried more than titillated me.

“I don’t have a fetish for black guys,” I told him. “I usually don’t even date black guys.”

“Then why are you interested in me?”

I tried to think of something witty to say in response, but all I could come up with was, “Because I like you.” I silently cursed myself for sounding like a thirteen-year-old girl, but what I’d said was true. I did like Darren and I wanted him to like me, too.

He smiled. “That’s nice to hear. Most guys usually tell you flat out that they just want to go to bed with you.”

“Oh, I want to go to bed with you, too,” I said and immediately regretted it. The desperation I’d tried so hard to keep contained was oozing out.

“I know you do,” he said, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. “Keep liking me and maybe you’ll get your chance.”

“When?”

“How about Friday night?”

I nodded. “Okay. Come to my house. I’ll cook dinner.” I gave him my address and we agreed to meet Friday night at seven.

“Okay,” he said, before unlocking the door of a silver late-model Chevy Blazer. Even though the SUV was older, it looked good on the outside. Darren clearly put a lot of work into keeping it so clean and polished.

“Your Blazer looks great,” I told him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Did you drive here?”

I nodded. “My car’s over there,” I said, motioning to the dirty black Lexus parked a few car lengths away. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had it washed. Trying to keep my car clean during the winter in Chicago was a losing battle.

“The Lexus?” Darren asked.

“Yes.”

“Nice. That looks like the kind of car a dentist would drive.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.” Darren opened his driver’s side door and was about to get inside when he stopped and turned to me. “You said you don’t usually date black guys.”

His circling back to the black/white thing made me nervous and I feared the race card was going to rear its ugly head and kill this relationship before it even had a chance to get started.

“I don’t…usually,” I told him, hoping he wouldn’t dismiss me outright for being truthful about the men I’d been with.

“Well, I don’t usually date white guys, so this will be a learning experience for both of us.”

I laughed and he smiled before squeezing my shoulder and telling me he’d see me Friday night. As I watched him get into his SUV, I wondered how I’d be able to hold it together until then.