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She’d tried to come back into my life a handful of times, pretending she’d changed and wanted to fix our relationship, but every time I’d given in, things had turned south. On one occasion, I’d loaned her two grand and she skipped town the next day.
So yeah, I could sympathize with not wanting anything to do with certain family members.
“Charles isn’t that bad a name,” Chip muses after a long silence, “It just happens to be my dad’s name, and by the time I was old enough to appreciate being his ‘Junior’, I don’t think either of us wanted me to be.”
“If it’s any consolation, I like Chip,” I tell him, “I think it suits you better.”
“I think I have to second that,” Brendon adds, “I can’t picture you as a ‘Charles,’ it’s just weird.”
Chip chuckles. “Well, thanks, I think.”
The server returns with our meals and the conversation hits a lull while the three of us dig in. But before long, the guys start chatting again, this time about music, and as the conversation progresses, they find that they share a love of vinyl records, an obsession of Brendon’s that I’ve never understood.
He insists that things sound different, that the quality of a vinyl record is something that just can’t be matched in the digital age, but I simply don’t hear a difference.
Chip, however, is with Brendon all the way, and I’m content to simply listen while the two discuss.
It’s funny, Brendon and I have friends back home, but I’ve never seen him chat with someone so casually and easily. We’re both a little on the introverted side and spend most of our time in each other’s company, so it’s kind of nice to see him connecting with someone else.
And to be honest, it’s kind of nice to feel that connection, myself. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to, to share stories with, if for no other reason than by now, it kind of feels like Brendon’s already heard them all or been in a fair number.
I listen as they discover that their vinyl collections contain a lot of the same content. Brendon’s talking about one of his favorites and Chip mentions that he’s got a signed copy.
My boyfriend’s jaw would drag the floor if it dropped any lower. ‘You’ve got asignedone? How?”
“Pure luck,” Chip answers honestly, “I stumbled across it at a garage sale, got it for two bucks.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I’ll prove it to you, come up and see it,” he offers.
Brendon glances at me. “Would you mind?” he asks.
“Not at all,” I reply, “Let’s finish up here and you can go nerd all over his collection.”
The three of us hastily finish dinner and pay, and Chip leads us inside and down a hallway we haven’t been down before. There’s another elevator here, and Chip guides us onto it. It carries us up to the third floor before he leads us off.
I realize this must be the wing where all the resort employees’ housing is, and I wonder what it must be like to live in the same place you work. The hallways in the housing area don’t look all that different from the ones leading to the guest rooms, although the doors are spaced further, presumably because the units are bigger.
A suspicion that’s confirmed when Chip stops at one of the doors and leads us into his apartment. Unlike the room Brendon and I are staying in, this very much looks like a little apartment, with a kitchen and living room of its own instead of the single multipurpose room and the bathroom.
I know in my head that the space is pretty small, but the way it’s laid out and decorated makes it feel larger. It’s cozy, and brings back some fond memories of my first apartment.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Chip says, gesturing around, “Can I get you guys anything to drink? I’ve got wine, beer, soda…I was kinda thinking about opening a bottle of this really amazing Riesling if anyone else will partake with me.”
“I’ll join you,” I offer.
“Same here,” Brendon agrees.
Chip disappears momentarily into the kitchen before returning with a pair of glasses full of golden liquid. He hands one of them to each of us before heading back in to retrieve his own. “Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll go grab that album.”
I settle on the couch, but Brendon remains standing, admiring some of artwork on the walls. “You really like him, don’t you?” I ask, taking a sip from my glass.
True to what he’d said, the wine really was fantastic. It’s sweet and floral, with the faint lingering taste of peaches.
He turns to look at me. “Chip? I mean, yeah, he’s a cool guy and all.”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but he seems sort of flustered.
