Wow.
I mean, what the hell do you say to something like that?
“...I guess it’s a lot to process,” Gabriel said, no doubt watching a million emotions bounce around in my eyes.
“No kidding,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Saying you believe me would be a bit of a novelty,” he said.
“So you really are over a hundred years old. Despite looking like a 30-something prime-of-life snack.”
“Yup.” He grinned. “Never been called a snack before.”
“Now THAT I find unbelievable.” Truthfully, I probably picked that term up from one of the 20-something kids I dealt with, so who was I to talk? “And you’re immortal?”
“No clue. I don’t seem to be aging much, for sure. I feel great, physically. No dementia, no memory loss – if anything my mind seems to be better than ever.”
“Some people get all the luck,” I winced. My legs were sore from all the walking, and the rest of me was sore from… well, all the sex.
“Depends on how you look at it. Outliving everyone I care about kind of sucks.”
I bet. You could see the pain in his eyes, even though he was making light of it.
“How do you even cope with that?”
“A lot of survivor’s guilt at first, and then just managing the practicality of this life,” he said. “I saw some of the worst fighting this world has ever seen, some of it REALLY up close. Even if I’d aged normally, that’s a lot of folks lost, and so, so much death.” He frowned, and sat heavily on the chair. “I had to see all those damned pink triangles in Buchenwald. Bodies stacked like cordwood for being gay, or jewish, or …”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling helpless.
“Yeah. But the point is, there was lots to feel awful about for a good long stretch last century. On some level, I worked it out of my system. And I eventually realized that having to start over every so often meant a really clean slate. You can reinvent yourself. So much to see, to learn, to do.”
“Remarkably positive attitude,” I said.
“I’m not saying there weren’t some very rough patches for my mental health. But I have the advantage of seeing the long game. I can’t imagine how James would have reacted to the Civil Rights movement. People today, they think progress has stalled, but they’re blind to so much of it – a hundred years after James, we could be legally married. Just imagine! A black man and a white man, openly loving each other without fear.”
“Maybe around here. Wouldn’t try it in Alabama.”
“They think I’m too dark down there. I once got pulled over by a cop outside of Mobile, because I looked a little dark to be in that neighborhood. I got looks in post-war Germany, too – I just tan really easily and inherited my grandfather’s Mediterranean skin tone, and his curly hair.”
“I bet he was handsome.”
“I suppose. My mother was considered pretty.” A tear gathered in the corner of his eye, and he shook his head a bit. “Damn, I haven’t talked about any of this in literally decades. See what you do to me?”
“Me? You’re the cradle-robber here, sir.”
“Good luck convincing anyone of that,” he chuckled. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“So why tell me all this? Isn’t it a risk?”
He leaned back in the chair running a hand dramatically through his mop of dark curls.
“Oh, Josh,” he said. “I told you because you asked, and because I’ve managed to become a pretty good judge of character. And because I’m seriously falling for you.”
Fuck. I wasn’t ready for it to be… mutual. I figured it would just be a fling, a harmless…
“Bet you’re regretting going through my wallet now,” he said.
“Wait just a minute, mister. I told you, I was putting yours –”
“Relax, I’m teasing,” he said. “Do you know, in just a day together, I’ve smiled more genuinely than I have in years? I’ve talked more about myself than i have in decades. YOU coax that out of me, you know. And somehow, I know I can trust you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Josh, I’ve been thinking about this since we met,” he said, earnestly. “It’s entirely possible that, subconsciously, I dropped that wallet for you to find. Who knows? What I do know is that a very long time ago, when James gave me this gift, he told me he just knew it was right to do so, that I was the one he needed to be complete. I didn’t really understand until tonight, but now…”
“I understand now. It’s like there’s this spark, and I know – I *know* – that you could come with me. If you want to, of course.”
Looking back, of course he was building up to this. All his little questions, feeling me out, talking about frivolities and stuff that actually matters. He saw something, and felt me out
I never believed in love at first sight. Lust, attraction, fondness? Sure. I’d had lovers, I’d had boyfriends (and one girlfriend, back in college) over the years, and a few friends with benefits. It had been ages since my last proper relationship and that hadn’t lasted too long. I’d always kept something back. Never fully committed.
And here I was, a little over two days after meeting this guy, and he is literally offering me a lifetime commitment.
At least.
“You probably want to think about it,” he said. “It’s a lot, right?”
“It almost felt like a proposal,” I said.
“Good,” he said. “Because as far as I can tell, this is a one-way trip.”
He drained his coffee and leaned back.
“How much time can you give me?”
“As long as you want. I do have to fly overseas tomorrow, though. Business nonsense. But we have tonight, if you’re not going anywhere. Miss your flight, stay with me, and we’ll see if I can’t wrangle an answer out of you.”
“This is your idea of flirting? Hey, sexy, want to be immortal lovers together?”
“You get pretty snarky when you’re wound up,” he grinned. “But I get it. Probably came on a little strong.”
“More like it’s my default setting. I’ve been on my best behavior all week, you just made me slip up,” I said.
“I want nothing more than several lifetimes of days like today, with you, Josh.”
“Oh, just that.”
“Just that.”
***
We set the matter aside, by unspoken agreement, for a few hours. He didn’t press me, and let me busy myself with checking my email, getting my stuff from the hotel, and so forth. He insisted on going with me to collect my things. At very least, one more night with this guy wasn’t something I cared to miss out on. I just found the idea of decades, even centuries, a little daunting.
We’d no sooner dropped my stuff in his suite than the heavens decided to empty themselves, and we ended up cuddling and watching a movie as we dozed. The storm was really intense, and lasted until early evening. We found an Indian place for dinner, and took an uber over because it was still pretty rainy out.
Somehow, I set aside the thought of a momentous decision, and we talked about other stuff. Feeling each other out on minor controversies, and teasing out morsels of unguarded opinions. He had strong feelings about fusion cuisine, about tipping, about political stuff and social issues. So did I, but they were mostly compatible with his. Neither of us felt strongly about pineapples on pizza, though he insisted that they be charred or grilled a bit. Neither of us were following any sports, but we weren’t anti-sport. It was no shock that Captain America was his favorite Avenger. Mine was Doctor Strange. He preferred Jazz and I preferred blues.
I joked a little about not knowing someone truly properly until you’ve been in the room with them after curry and daal, and he chuckled. Hard to scare a guy who’d served in three wars with the threat of curry farts. The food was great and the service attentive – the hot Indian guy waiting on us was smitten, I think. He told us his favorite Avenger was Spider-man, and that set off a debate about whether Spidey counted, until I pointed out that he was officially invited by Tony – and Gabriel pointed out that Doctor Strange wasn’t officially invited. He had me there. I teased him that old people weren’t usually into comic book stuff.
It really confused our waiter, I’m sure.
Gabriel insisted on paying. There was a phone number with the check, and the name Sunil.
The rain had let up, so we walked back, and managed to find a gelato place. I realized with a start that we’d both shared a lick and a bite of each other’s without even thinking about it.
It was almost frightening how fast we’d fallen into a level of intimacy and familiarity.
And so, about a block from the hotel, I knew what my answer would be.
I mean, what the hell do you say to something like that?
“...I guess it’s a lot to process,” Gabriel said, no doubt watching a million emotions bounce around in my eyes.
“No kidding,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Saying you believe me would be a bit of a novelty,” he said.
“So you really are over a hundred years old. Despite looking like a 30-something prime-of-life snack.”
“Yup.” He grinned. “Never been called a snack before.”
“Now THAT I find unbelievable.” Truthfully, I probably picked that term up from one of the 20-something kids I dealt with, so who was I to talk? “And you’re immortal?”
“No clue. I don’t seem to be aging much, for sure. I feel great, physically. No dementia, no memory loss – if anything my mind seems to be better than ever.”
“Some people get all the luck,” I winced. My legs were sore from all the walking, and the rest of me was sore from… well, all the sex.
“Depends on how you look at it. Outliving everyone I care about kind of sucks.”
I bet. You could see the pain in his eyes, even though he was making light of it.
“How do you even cope with that?”
“A lot of survivor’s guilt at first, and then just managing the practicality of this life,” he said. “I saw some of the worst fighting this world has ever seen, some of it REALLY up close. Even if I’d aged normally, that’s a lot of folks lost, and so, so much death.” He frowned, and sat heavily on the chair. “I had to see all those damned pink triangles in Buchenwald. Bodies stacked like cordwood for being gay, or jewish, or …”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling helpless.
“Yeah. But the point is, there was lots to feel awful about for a good long stretch last century. On some level, I worked it out of my system. And I eventually realized that having to start over every so often meant a really clean slate. You can reinvent yourself. So much to see, to learn, to do.”
“Remarkably positive attitude,” I said.
“I’m not saying there weren’t some very rough patches for my mental health. But I have the advantage of seeing the long game. I can’t imagine how James would have reacted to the Civil Rights movement. People today, they think progress has stalled, but they’re blind to so much of it – a hundred years after James, we could be legally married. Just imagine! A black man and a white man, openly loving each other without fear.”
“Maybe around here. Wouldn’t try it in Alabama.”
“They think I’m too dark down there. I once got pulled over by a cop outside of Mobile, because I looked a little dark to be in that neighborhood. I got looks in post-war Germany, too – I just tan really easily and inherited my grandfather’s Mediterranean skin tone, and his curly hair.”
“I bet he was handsome.”
“I suppose. My mother was considered pretty.” A tear gathered in the corner of his eye, and he shook his head a bit. “Damn, I haven’t talked about any of this in literally decades. See what you do to me?”
“Me? You’re the cradle-robber here, sir.”
“Good luck convincing anyone of that,” he chuckled. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“So why tell me all this? Isn’t it a risk?”
He leaned back in the chair running a hand dramatically through his mop of dark curls.
“Oh, Josh,” he said. “I told you because you asked, and because I’ve managed to become a pretty good judge of character. And because I’m seriously falling for you.”
Fuck. I wasn’t ready for it to be… mutual. I figured it would just be a fling, a harmless…
“Bet you’re regretting going through my wallet now,” he said.
“Wait just a minute, mister. I told you, I was putting yours –”
“Relax, I’m teasing,” he said. “Do you know, in just a day together, I’ve smiled more genuinely than I have in years? I’ve talked more about myself than i have in decades. YOU coax that out of me, you know. And somehow, I know I can trust you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Josh, I’ve been thinking about this since we met,” he said, earnestly. “It’s entirely possible that, subconsciously, I dropped that wallet for you to find. Who knows? What I do know is that a very long time ago, when James gave me this gift, he told me he just knew it was right to do so, that I was the one he needed to be complete. I didn’t really understand until tonight, but now…”
“I understand now. It’s like there’s this spark, and I know – I *know* – that you could come with me. If you want to, of course.”
Looking back, of course he was building up to this. All his little questions, feeling me out, talking about frivolities and stuff that actually matters. He saw something, and felt me out
I never believed in love at first sight. Lust, attraction, fondness? Sure. I’d had lovers, I’d had boyfriends (and one girlfriend, back in college) over the years, and a few friends with benefits. It had been ages since my last proper relationship and that hadn’t lasted too long. I’d always kept something back. Never fully committed.
And here I was, a little over two days after meeting this guy, and he is literally offering me a lifetime commitment.
At least.
“You probably want to think about it,” he said. “It’s a lot, right?”
“It almost felt like a proposal,” I said.
“Good,” he said. “Because as far as I can tell, this is a one-way trip.”
He drained his coffee and leaned back.
“How much time can you give me?”
“As long as you want. I do have to fly overseas tomorrow, though. Business nonsense. But we have tonight, if you’re not going anywhere. Miss your flight, stay with me, and we’ll see if I can’t wrangle an answer out of you.”
“This is your idea of flirting? Hey, sexy, want to be immortal lovers together?”
“You get pretty snarky when you’re wound up,” he grinned. “But I get it. Probably came on a little strong.”
“More like it’s my default setting. I’ve been on my best behavior all week, you just made me slip up,” I said.
“I want nothing more than several lifetimes of days like today, with you, Josh.”
“Oh, just that.”
“Just that.”
***
We set the matter aside, by unspoken agreement, for a few hours. He didn’t press me, and let me busy myself with checking my email, getting my stuff from the hotel, and so forth. He insisted on going with me to collect my things. At very least, one more night with this guy wasn’t something I cared to miss out on. I just found the idea of decades, even centuries, a little daunting.
We’d no sooner dropped my stuff in his suite than the heavens decided to empty themselves, and we ended up cuddling and watching a movie as we dozed. The storm was really intense, and lasted until early evening. We found an Indian place for dinner, and took an uber over because it was still pretty rainy out.
Somehow, I set aside the thought of a momentous decision, and we talked about other stuff. Feeling each other out on minor controversies, and teasing out morsels of unguarded opinions. He had strong feelings about fusion cuisine, about tipping, about political stuff and social issues. So did I, but they were mostly compatible with his. Neither of us felt strongly about pineapples on pizza, though he insisted that they be charred or grilled a bit. Neither of us were following any sports, but we weren’t anti-sport. It was no shock that Captain America was his favorite Avenger. Mine was Doctor Strange. He preferred Jazz and I preferred blues.
I joked a little about not knowing someone truly properly until you’ve been in the room with them after curry and daal, and he chuckled. Hard to scare a guy who’d served in three wars with the threat of curry farts. The food was great and the service attentive – the hot Indian guy waiting on us was smitten, I think. He told us his favorite Avenger was Spider-man, and that set off a debate about whether Spidey counted, until I pointed out that he was officially invited by Tony – and Gabriel pointed out that Doctor Strange wasn’t officially invited. He had me there. I teased him that old people weren’t usually into comic book stuff.
It really confused our waiter, I’m sure.
Gabriel insisted on paying. There was a phone number with the check, and the name Sunil.
The rain had let up, so we walked back, and managed to find a gelato place. I realized with a start that we’d both shared a lick and a bite of each other’s without even thinking about it.
It was almost frightening how fast we’d fallen into a level of intimacy and familiarity.
And so, about a block from the hotel, I knew what my answer would be.
