Hi. Thank you for your comments and votes. I decided to post everything I have so far. Since I like to read a longer story, I decided to post it this way and see what happens.
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Tom
I know that I'm not the world's most articulate guy in the world, but something about Gabe had me plummeting to new depths of ineptitude. Except when we were talking about books, I was a complete idiot. Hopefully he found my inability to speak coherently endearing instead of ridiculous. Even though I could barely talk around the guy, I definitely knew I wanted more time with him.
Thank goodness he suggested dinner. The restaurant was nearly empty, which shouldn't have surprised me since the only people that ate at 4pm were looking for early-bird specials. Instead of being fazed by this, we just sat back and enjoyed a really long meal, with lots drinks. As soon as I got the menu in my hands I just wanted to try one of everything, I was so hungry. So I ordered tons and asked the waiter to just put it all on the table, family style. I hadn't actually realized that I had taken over until the waiter left and Gabe started laughing.
"You weren't kidding about being hungry, were you?" He sat back in his chair with a very indulgent grin on his face. "You think there'll be enough for me to eat, or should I order something for myself?"
"If you're nice to me, I might let you have a bite or two." I waved a hand in his direction for emphasis.
Pretty soon our Margaritas came and they were huge, served in these iced beer mugs. I'm not sure if it was thirst or nerves, but I downed the first one quickly. The food came and we both fell on it like starving men. Gabe may be skinny, but it definitely isn't for lack of eating. We ordered another round of drinks and in a very short while, I was feeling more relaxed than I could remember.
"Slow down, friend," I cautioned. "We can always order more,"
"Sorry man," Gabe blushed, which was completely adorable. "It's the whole starving artist thing. I haven't had a meal like this in ages"
When I asked him what he meant, he started to explain. Gabe had graduated with a B.A. in Fine Arts a few years back and really wanted to make it as a working artist. His work was pretty traditional: he enjoyed drawing, painting, and even a little sculpture. After a while, he moved to the city, away from the smaller town where his family is from, and thought maybe a wider audience would bring some success. What he hadn't counted on was more competition. There were a lot more artists trying to get by, and most of them had day jobs to support themselves, so they often priced their work below market. With rent, cost of living, student loans and supplies, Gabe had found he was in over his head and decided he had to get a job just to the pay the bills. It was a conundrum, a sort of Catch 22: if he took a job to pay the bills, then he didn't have enough time to paint, if he didn't take a job, then he couldn't keep painting at all.
"So that's how I ended up at the book store." Gabe shrugged his big shoulders and used a tortilla to sop up the last of the meaty juices on his plate. He popped the bite into his mouth and continued. "I probably could have found a better paying job, but this one is fine. I don't need a car to get around, the manager is usually pretty flexible about scheduling and I even get health insurance. That's a lot more than most artists."
"Do you miss being able to do your own work all of the time?" I was bugged that Gabe wasn't able to follow his dreams. When he talked about painting and drawing, his face had been so alive. I doubt anyone ever thought that way about a bookstore job.
"Sometimes I miss it a lot," Gabe nodded thoughtfully. "But you know, it's lonely working like that. I am alone for days working through ideas, staying up all hours. And when I'm done, I am still alone and don't have anyone to share it with. At least at the bookstore I get to talk to people and sort of 'be' in the world."
"Did days go by sometimes when you realized that you hadn't spoken out loud all day?" What Gabe had said resonated with me in ways I hadn't planned.
"Yeah, that happened a lot." Gabe looked into my eyes, searching. "Sometimes it was easier to just be by myself than try to be around other people, but I don't think it was really healthy. I mean, ideas come from discussion and activity. I don't think much creative can be made when I'm all alone and shut off."
I frowned at this statement, because I was afraid that what Gabe was saying was true not only for him. Holing up in my apartment had been working to keep me safe for so long, that I had convinced myself that I really liked it that way. But did I? I mean, I can be sort of a perfectionist, which serves me really well in my career. Somehow, relationships hadn't worked out really well for me, so I had decided a while ago to just give them a pass. Now I was sitting across from Gabe and starting to feel that maybe I was missing out on something really important in life.
After dinner, I drove Gabe to his apartment and dragged his bike out of the back of my car. His place was an upstairs room in a big, old converted house. He said that he had chosen it because it was close, cheap and he liked all the roof angles inside. We shook hands and I was glad he didn't thank me for dinner, because I would have been embarrassed. It couldn't have escaped his notice that I had paid the bill while he was in the bathroom at the restaurant, but luckily he did not make a comment. I couldn't have said why I did it: was this a date, did I feel sorry for him? I had no idea.
When I was back in the car, I realized that we hadn't made any plans to see each other again and we hadn't traded phone numbers. It looked like it would be up to me to make the next move, if there was going to be one. Instead of thinking through what I wanted to do next, or how I felt about Gabe, I sank into my big couch as soon as I got home. In minutes, the outside world was miles away and I was comfortable in a fantasy world complete with a wizard, a predictable romance and a quest for something-or-other.
It wasn't until Wednesday that I let myself think about Gabe again. Late in the afternoon, my cell beeped to tell me that I had a new text message. It was from my best friend, Henry and it said: 'Frisbee?' The weather had been getting warmer in the last weeks and the ground was probably dry enough to play. So it seemed that our Frisbee team would start its new spring practice schedule. In the past, we would gather at this huge, empty park every Thursday and play until the softball teams got tired of us goofing around. Everyone and their boyfriends and girlfriends, wives and husbands all came out to the park and then to a great pizza place for dinner and a beer.
That was when a picture of Gabe flashed through my mind.
Our big group of friends had been pairing off in recent years and actually gotten larger; some couples were now married and a few were even starting families. I had always been a single man in the crowd, never bringing someone special to introduce because I hadn't had anyone that special in my life. Now, after only one non-date I had the urge to ask Gabe to join me. It was crazy and impulsive, not at all like me.
Before I could think too much, I called the bookstore and asked for Gabe. Whoever answered the phone put me on hold and it was then that I considered chewing off my left thumbnail out of nervousness. What did I think I was doing? I wasn't even sure that he was gay. Maybe we could be friends?
"This is Gabe." His voice sounded so assured.
"Hey Gabe, this is Tom." I tried not to stammer, though I was positive I broke out in a sweat. "We . . ."
"Hi Tom," Gabe replied. His smile seemed to come right through the phone.
I explained all about Frisbee and where we met and finally asked if he'd like to come. Since I don't really share my private side at work, I kept my voice a little low.
"Do you want me to play on the team?" Gabe sounded a little confused.
"Um no, not exactly. I thought you might to get out and have some pizza afterwards?" If this had been high school, I would have been kicking the dirt and looking at the ground. I had somehow thought that by being gay, I had avoided all the awkwardness of dating.
