Lance ambles over as I slurp the last drop of my drink audibly. 揟equila soda??he asks.
揝ure? I think so??
DJ Jerald starts playing Lover and I make a cynical noise from the depths of my sinuses, as Lance slides me my second drink.
揧ikes. Not a Swiftie, I take it??
I turn to my left just as the observer sits, and I can抰 help the smile that bends my lips at his. He抯 got the kind of cute, guileless look that I always go for. Warm brown eyes, and fluffy blonde hair with a slight curl to it. A labradoodle in human form.
揙f course I am. There抯 a Swiftie song for everyone.?
揙h, so it抯 just this song, then,?he grins, dipping his head conspiratorially. 揅are to let me take a crack at what yours is??
I shrug. This isn抰 the worst way I抳e been hit on before. I抦 intrigued.
揑t抯 gotta be Me!, no??he asks. He抯 wearing one of those shirts that抯 like six inches longer than a normal one梐 style, apparently梠ne that I know Meyer hates. He抯 also wearing a chain necklace. Another prejudice of My抯. And god damnit, I抦 thinking about Meyer while this objectively attractive man is flirting with me.
揧ou nailed it,?I lie. He doesn抰 need to know that I coincidentally do have a Swift-specific song of the moment, nor does he need to know what it actually is. The only reason one even surfaces in my mind is because I heard it play the other day at the beach, watching Meyer fly a kite with Hazel for the first time. It抯 encapsulated into my memory now, imbibed into my core. Just a sweet melody made sweeter by the people and moments it played to. Run, I think it抯 called.
This guy抯 smile grows. Does he smile a lot, or am I just stuck on someone else抯 frown?
揑抦 Joe,?he says.
揊arley,?and I reach out my hand and smile back.
11
NOW
揗y favorite kind of humor is basically, if it was happening to you, it wouldn't be funny, but to observe it, it's hilarious.?- Bill Burr
FARLEY
揥hatever happened to that Joe guy you dated for awhile??is the way Meyer greets me when I open my door.
揗eyer, it抯 our third date and you want to talk about exes??I try for light and teasing, but it comes out annoyed and huffy, like this is really our third date and I am actually miffed that he抯 putting a damper on it.
揑 just saw a lady pushing some sort of poodle in a stroller and it reminded me of him, is all,?he snorts.
The truth is, Joe was a one night stand that just kind of?stuck. His expectations were low, he was easy, affable, and accepting. He gave great oral but didn抰 let his ego get in the way of breaking out a vibrator. We抎 go days without talking without either of us getting upset about it... at first, at least. It was light, fun, and nice.
He was the perfect brain break when things started picking up with my career. Once Meyer and I worked out a contract (complete with a benefits program, excellent medical insurance and even a retirement plan) his name made a huge difference in scoring me great gigs and better, consistent pay. I did a few short openers for bigger names, built a solid reputation quickly, and the gigs snowballed from there. Within four months, I quit my other jobs altogether. After a total of three paying gigs in the span of two years prior to that, I was booking that many a week, consistently.
The travel was a bit rough. Cheap flights, even up to San Francisco or Sacramento, were still full day affairs梬ith multiple plane changes and stops to keep them under budget. But the trajectory of my entire career was skyrocketing.
Joe fit into that.
Until he didn抰?
揌ey. Why don抰 you want to tell me??Meyer says, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts. He leans on the car door in front of me, legs crossed at the ankles, all casual ease. Today抯 henley is a rusty brown, which makes the brunette parts of his hair and beard seem to stand out and nullify the gray. 揧ou don抰 have to tell me if you don抰 want to. I just realized I didn抰 know.?
揑 knew you didn抰 like him. I didn抰 think you抎 want to know either way at the time.?A half-truth.
揌e was a doofus. It抯 not that he was unlikeable, I guess. He just wasn抰 likable either.?
揧ou were a dick to him and you know it.?
揑 was the same to him as I am to every little boy you抳e had hanging on your coattails that is undeserving, Fee,?he spits.
揌e was the same age as me, Meyer.?
揧ou were dating down, Jones. He was small-minded compared to you. That抯 all that I meant by that.?
I adjust my purse on my shoulder, wondering how to put this to him honestly while saving face.
In the end, I抎 read Joe wrong. I thought he was as invested as I was, which, if I was to quantify it, would probably have been about fifty percent. We wouldn抰 talk every day, but we weren抰 sleeping with other people or anything, either. We certainly weren抰 making declarations of love, but I did see him at least once a week for about five months.
But, then there was his birthday. I抎 felt terrible that I didn抰 realize it sooner, but Meyer and I had a seven day trip scheduled up in San Francisco to do a series of shows. It was to start in S.F., immediately followed by Oakland, and San Jose. And, we抎 worked it out for Marissa (who was working out amazingly as his new tutor and quasi-nanny) to fly up with Hazel halfway through so that we could go to Alcatraz, as well as a play for her early birthday gift. The Cursed Child was playing, and the translators were incredible?I抎 scoped it out myself to make sure.
I could tell that Joe was already a little perturbed to come second so easily, but he didn抰 make a fuss over it, so I just figured it wasn抰 worth hashing out?
Until Hazel got a nasty flu two days into us being away. Meyer flew back immediately, and I came as soon as my last show was done two days after.
I walked through the front door of the condo he抎 been packing up to sell, to the faint smell of bleach and sickness. He and Hazel were convalescing in separate rooms, but Haze was already through the worst of it. She was tired and living on whatever Marissa would drop off on the doorstep (sporting no less than a hazmat suit), but, she had her TV and Netflix with subtitles in her room.
Meyer, on the other hand, was ill.
I am all for poking fun at the man flu, but this man was truly sick. 103 degree fevers that I could only get to break by alternating Motrin and Tylenol, and even then would only get down to 100, for over three days straight. He could hardly keep down water, to the point that I was one foot out the door away from dragging his ass to the emergency room, before he finally turned the corner.
He抎 only ever had a goatee or nothing before then, but the days of barely coming to life, only to move from the bed to the bathroom, had given him enough stubble to pass for a beard.
I propped him up in bed, a freshly cleaned sheet tucked around his bare, clammy shoulders, and started spoon feeding him broth.
揑抦 surprised you抮e not complaining about this,?I said to him with a frown. He just looked at me with sad, bloodshot eyes.
揧ou抳e already heard the sound that comes out of me when I vomit. I can give you this,?he抎 croaked, his deep voice made even deeper by hoarseness.
And that was Meyer at his most vulnerable, I realized.
He抎 made himself into a man that really didn抰 use humor or sarcasm to shield himself anymore, unless it was for my benefit. He抎 worked tirelessly to be a better version of himself for his daughter, to constantly take care of everyone who mattered to him. But he抎 slipped just a little in that moment with me. It made me realize what a gift I抎 been given in him allowing me?in all my sarcastic, bawdy, glory?into the steel bubble that he抎 built around himself and Hazel.
For some inexplicable reason, he抎 let me knock on the secret door and waltz right in from the moment he met me. That was a small moment, when he was feeling incredibly weak and probably deeply embarrassed, where I could see him figuratively trying to tidy up, trying to keep me at the threshold.
I chose to shove past it. I put my palm to his cheek and ran my thumb against the new stubble there. 揑 like you with the beard.?
Once he抎 kept the broth and some crackers down for over six hours, I decided to head home, indescribably worn out from days of worry and little sleep. When I showed up to the rental, Joe was there, sitting on my front step.
揓oe?hey.?
揇on抰 worry. I won抰 take up any of your time.?
揥hat? What do you棑
揑 was at Lance抯 last night, with my buddies, for my birthday.?He looked at me and let that realization set in.
Fuck. I hadn抰 even texted him.
揌e told me you抳e been home for four days, Farley. I thought you were still in San Francisco this entire time, and you couldn抰 even give me the heads up that you were coming home.?