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“Oh, we’re fine, dear,” Phillip said, affecting a casual air. He squinted up at her. “Just catching David here up on the birds and the bees.”
Melissa didn’t know what to make of that, but she powered through it. “That’s great. Have you either of you been here before?”
“Many times,” Phillip assured her. He wasn’t exactly effeminate, but he did have the slightest of lisps, and he moved his hands more often than not when he spoke. “I’d like a glass of your petite sirah, if you please.”
She nodded and looked at David. “And for you, sir?”
“I have a drink.”
“Great!” she said again, clapping her hands together. “I’ll be back with the wine momentarily. If there is anything you need, again, my name is Melissa.” She smiled at the both of them before turning away and disappearing just as quickly as she’d come.
“I’ll probably get the swordfish,” Phillip announced, closing the menu. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had—”
“I’m not calling him.”
“I didn’t ask if you were.”
“I know, just—I’m not. I don’t want… that. I don’t like that.”
Phillip arched an eyebrow at him, because of course he could also do something that David couldn’t. “You seem to be putting up an awfully big fight about it.”
David scowled at him. “I am not.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Phillip went back to the menu, even though he’d said he’d wanted the swordfish. It was awkward, the silence that came between them, awkward in a way it had never been when they’d come here before. It felt wrong, somehow, because this was supposed to be their place, their staycation, and they had laughed here, hadn’t they? They’d laughed here in the corner, sitting far too close to each other, never really talking about anything serious. There had always been a heat to their words, but it’d been a lazy thing, both of them knowing they could drag it out all night if they wanted to. Even after all these years, it was still there. Maybe it didn’t burn as bright as it had when they were younger, when everything was bold and exciting and new, but it’d given way to something more, something familiar and beloved.
When was the last time they’d been here? It’d been… before. Before March of 2012. David thought back as he picked up the menu, not really reading the words, the bourbon twisting sourly in his stomach. He wished he’d eaten something earlier, but he’d been too nervous, unsure of what Phillip had meant by I want to see you.
So it’d been before. David turned away from the wine list to the appetizers and decided it would have been October. October 2011. Right? Hadn’t that been right? He thought it was. There’d been Halloween decorations up, and David had just finished editing a rather long and arduous history textbook for a midlevel college course, something that had taken a month longer than he’d expected it to. The deadline had been extended a couple of times, and finally, he’d sat down for what felt like a week straight, working until he was done. That had been the first week in October.
Alice had kissed him on the cheek, telling him she was proud of him.
He’d texted Phillip to let him know.
Staycation? Phillip had texted back. You deserve it. And I’ve missed you.
Yeah. He had too. He’d been so busy that he hadn’t had time for anything else.
Yes please, he’d written back.
Good, came the reply.
It’d taken a couple of weeks of planning, but they’d gotten away Friday and Saturday and Sunday, and it was exactly what he’d needed. His bones were weary, and he’d been almost too tired for anything, but then Phillip had put his hand on David’s thigh under the table and squeezed, leaning over to whisper such filthy things in his ear, things he wanted to do to David, that he had wanted David to do to him. Maybe the fire hadn’t burned as brightly between them like it had when they were younger, but David had preferred it this way over anything else. This had been what he’d wanted. This Phillip, the one with lines around his eyes and mouth, a hint of gray in his hair and in the stubble on his face when he didn’t shave for a day or three.
When they’d left that Sunday morning, David had felt better than he’d had for a long time.
And then the holidays came, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and there just hadn’t been time to get away, not with all the familial obligations. And that had been okay too, because they’d still all been together, like they wanted to be.
And then came March 22, 2012. It’d been a Thursday.
It’d been a Thursday, and David’s phone had rung at three thirty-seven in the afternoon, and he’d—
His hands tightened on the menu.
No. Not now. He couldn’t do that now. Not when—
