Walk With Me Part 6

At nineteen, I didn't have a lot of friends in committed relationships. The girls and guys I went to school with tended to date someone for a few months and then move on. Sometimes they moved on while they were still with their current boyfriend or girlfriend. Advice on s.e.x was a dime a dozen, and I didn't need any help landing a guy for a night in the sack. What I wanted to know was how to get the attention of someone who would be interested in more than a little fun. And if that someone happened to be an allegedly straight, overly serious, super-s.e.xy rabbi, all the better.

"So what's up, man?" Noah set his gla.s.s on the table, plopped down in the chair across from mine, and stretched his long legs out, b.u.mping my ankles in the process. "Spill."

"When did you become a talker?" I asked.

He took a sip of his drink and kept his gaze on me.

"I just got back," I said, trying a different approach. "Don't you want to tell me about your cla.s.ses or how things are going with your family or Clark or something?"

"My cla.s.ses are fine. I'm not into them, but Clark thinks it's important for me to get my degree and he's always right about s.h.i.t like that, so I'm doing it. My family sucks, but I don't give a f.u.c.k about them anyway, so, whatever. Clark is"-Noah's eyes softened and he smiled tenderly-"amazing and brilliant and finally living with him is like heaven on earth."

"Who knew you were so poetic?" I said tightly, trying not to sound envious. I was happy for him. I was. But I couldn't help selfishly thinking about myself and how much I wanted someone in my life the way Noah was describing.

"Only about Clark," Noah said without any hesitation or shame.

I'd always admired that about him. We'd met in middle school outside of my piano teacher's studio. Noah did kickboxing at the dojo next door. After we chatted a few times, he spouted off some comment, making me realize he was gay. I remember being amazed at how free he was about it, how secure. No matter how many mistakes Noah had made in his misspent youth, his inner strength had been unlike anyone else's, so I'd held on to his example when I came out to my parents. Maybe it was time to learn from him again.

"Quit trying to goad me into changing the topic, Eli. It won't work. What's up with you?"

I breathed in deeply. "Did you, uh, play around with a lot of guys before you got together with Clark?" I bit my lip. "I know you were in boarding school with a lot of-"

"No." He shook his head. "I screwed around before I met him, but everything changed after that."

"But you were just a kid," I reminded him.

"I was thirteen," he confirmed.

"Do you think you'll regret it?"

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "We're nineteen. Aren't we supposed to play the field for a while before we settle down with one guy? Some people even say we should never be with just one person. This guy I go to school with says monogamy is a heteros.e.xual construct and we should make our own mold instead of fitting into theirs."

Noah rested his forearms on the table and leaned toward me. "I don't know what mold that guy from your school wants to fit into, and, honestly, I don't give a f.u.c.k. For me, what's right is being with Clark. I have no interest in other guys, haven't for a lot of years. Why would I want anyone else when I have him?"

"Yeah." I slumped down in my chair and traced the pattern on the table with my fingertip.

"I can't figure out if you're asking me these questions because you're, like, some total player now and you think I'll judge you, or if you met someone and you want to know what it's like to settle down." He covered my hand with his and stayed quiet until I looked up and met his gaze. "Eli, man, you remember the s.h.i.t I was into when we were kids. I'd probably be dead now if Clark hadn't come into my life and saved me. Whatever you've got going on, you can talk to me. I might not have all the answers, but I won't think anything bad about you."

"It's nothing serious," I a.s.sured him, realizing my reaction may have been a little dramatic. "You're right. I did meet someone, but he's not interested in me. I tried playing the field, but that wasn't right either. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what I should do."

"What do you want to do?"

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? You said you're trying to figure out what to do. I'm asking what you want. Once you have that answer, you'll have the answer to your question too."

I might or might not have understood him. I wasn't sure. My response would have been the same either way, though, so I said, "What I want is Seth, but he doesn't want me."

"And if he did?"

It was one of the most confusing conversations I'd had. "If he did what?"

"The guy you want, if he wanted you, then what would you want?"

That was an easy question to answer. "If Seth wanted me, I'd want what you and Clark have."

"But you only want it with him?"

I nodded. "So far, yeah."

"Hmm." Noah leaned back in his chair, crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest, pursed his lips, and narrowed his eyes, his expression thoughtful. "It seems to me," he said after a minute, "that you have two choices." He held up a finger. "One: you go after this Seth guy and convince him to give you a chance." He held up another finger. "Or two: you can see if there's someone else out there who wants the same thing you want and see if you can get something going with him."

That sounded about right. I sighed sadly and dragged my fingers through my hair. "I wish there was a way to do number one."

"Are you sure there isn't?"

I nodded sadly.

Noah squinted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me the deal with him."

"With Seth?" I asked. He nodded. "He's a rabbi at my synagogue. He works for my dad, and he's older than me, and supposedly he's straight, but I've always gotten a different vibe. Doesn't matter, anyway, because he's told me over and over that he isn't interested, and I'm worried if I push too hard, he won't want to hang out with me anymore, which would suck hard."

"So you guys hang out a lot?"

I thought about it. "When I'm home, yeah."

"Why would he want to hang out with you if he isn't interested?"

"I don't know." I fiddled with my cup again. "Maybe he feels sorry for me or maybe he wants to be friends. But I'm telling you, Noah, I've thrown myself at the guy, and nothing. Zippo. Nada. He isn't interested."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound good. You should probably move on and try to find someone else."

The answer surprised me, and his tone didn't ring as genuine. "Is that what you'd do?" I asked.

"No." He shook his head. "If I really wanted the guy and I was getting that kind of vibe, I'd be relentless. I mean, no way would I ever give up on Clark, no matter what." He took a swig of his drink and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "But I've been kickboxed in the head a few times too many, Eli. I'm not sure you should be taking advice from me."

I chuckled and finished my coffee. I still didn't know what to do, but I'd definitely think about what Noah said. For the moment, though, I wanted to talk about something less serious.

"Hey, do you know of any jobs? I'm here until August and I want to earn a little extra cash."

"I can talk to the owner of the dojo where I work, see if he needs anyone else part time."

"Thanks. Just make sure it isn't anything where I'd get kicked in the head."

I HAD HAD been home for three days and I hadn't run into Seth yet. At first blush, that shouldn't sound like a big deal. I mean, it's not like people go around running into each other all the time. But if you considered the fact that I'd been stalking his office daily, then it became more worrisome. I finally gave up on stealth and interrogated my dad when he got home from work. been home for three days and I hadn't run into Seth yet. At first blush, that shouldn't sound like a big deal. I mean, it's not like people go around running into each other all the time. But if you considered the fact that I'd been stalking his office daily, then it became more worrisome. I finally gave up on stealth and interrogated my dad when he got home from work.

"Dad?"

He had just walked in the door. I mean that literally. Like, his hand was on the doork.n.o.b, one foot was in the house, and the other was still in the air.

"Eli," he said warily.

I decided against beating around the bush. "Where's Seth?"

"Oh, for crying out loud." He rolled his eyes and dropped his keys into the bowl my mom kept by the door. "He's not feeling well, Eli. Give him some s.p.a.ce before you start hara.s.sing him."

"What do you mean not feeling well? Is he sick? I can bring him soup." I stopped, thought about it, and nodded to myself. "Yeah, that's what I'll do. Mom!" I turned away from my dad and jogged into the kitchen. "Mom! Can you make me soup?"

"Oh." She looked surprised when I rushed in asking her to cook something. I usually ate whatever they put in front of me. "You're in the mood for soup? Sure, I can-"

"It's for Seth," my father said as he walked in. He kissed my mom's cheek and shook his head. I knew that particular gesture was aimed at me.

"Eli," my mom sighed disapprovingly and turned around to keep chopping whatever it was she had on the cutting board.

"Dad said he's sick!" I shouted. She didn't react, so I brought out the big guns. "His mother is all the way in LA, and he's alone in that apartment. Who's there to make sure he eats right?"

My mom's posture stiffened, her arm froze in midair, and I knew I'd won.

"Fine," she said. "But you're going to help me."

"I am?" I asked in surprise. I did dishes and put away groceries, but cooking? She'd never asked for help, and she usually seemed annoyed when people were in her way while she was in the kitchen.

"Yes, you are. That way if you end up with a man as hopeless as you, someone will be able to keep the both of you fed even after I'm dead."

At least half of her reasons for things involved her eventual death.

"You're not going to die, Mom," I said for what had to be the millionth time in my life.

"We're all going to die, Eli. Now wash your hands and then get the carrots and celery out of the fridge. We're going to make your bubby's chicken noodle soup."

Two hours later, I was in front of Seth's door with a pot of soup, a salad, a loaf of bread, and a package my dad asked me to give him. I rang the bell with my elbow.

"Who is it?"

"It's me. Eli. It's Eli. Block. It's Eli Block."

I heard him laughing before the deadbolt clicked and the door swung open.

"h.e.l.lo, Eli Block," he said.

"Oh my G.o.d!" I shouted and almost dropped the food when I saw him. He had a bandage across his swollen nose and bruises under both eyes.

"Well, I guess it's official. I'm Frankenstein's monster." He reached for the pot, leaving me with only the bags draped over my arms. "Come on in and set that stuff down. By the way, what is all this?"

I was incapable of concentrating on anything other than his injuries. "What happened to you?" I dropped the bags on the counter next to where he'd placed the soup, and then I stepped over to him. I reached for his face but stopped before I made contact, leaving my palm hovering close to his skin.

"It'd be great if I could say something really exciting, but sadly, it was just another wedding." He turned away and started unloading the bags.

"A wedding?" I asked incredulously.

"Yup. It was nice of your mom to cook for me. I'll call her later to thank her."

"I cooked too."

He snapped his head toward me. "You did?"

"'Course." I stepped closer. "I would have done it sooner, but I only found out today that you weren't feeling well."

"Thanks, Eli." He opened his arms and I moved quickly, pressing myself against his chest and clinging to him tightly. "That was really nice of you."

"Does it hurt?" I asked when he ended the hug.

"Not so much anymore, but it still looks scary, so I'm taking another couple of days off work." He picked up the yellow envelope and said, "What's this?"

"I don't know. My dad said to give it to you." He started opening the envelope. "Tell me what happened. Was there a fight at the wedding?"

"No, nothing like that. The gla.s.s the groom tried to break at the end of the ceremony was this heavy-duty catering gla.s.s, so instead of smashing into a bunch of pieces, it flew up in the air and broke my nose." He pulled an alb.u.m out of the envelope and then grinned at me. "Want to see the latest wedding fiasco captured on film?"

"You have pictures?"

He waved the alb.u.m in the air. "Looks that way. Apparently this is my get-well gift-photographic evidence of the Wedding of Horror."

"Okay, yeah, I want to see, but you need to eat, so you go sit on the couch. I'll get a bowl of soup for you, and then we can look at the alb.u.m."

He gave me a look that made my stomach flip over. "Thanks, Eli. n.o.body's ever taken care of me like that."

I blushed and dipped my chin. "I'm sure your mom did it all the time."

"Yes," he admitted. "But that's different. She's my mom and you're...."

He walked over to the couch and didn't finish the sentence. I was too busy basking in his praise to give it much thought. Once I had a bowl of soup sitting on a plate with a b.u.t.tered piece of bread on the lip, I threw a towel over my shoulder and joined him on the sofa.

"Here you go." I set the food on the coffee table, covered his lap with the towel, and then handed him the spoon. "So tell me about this wedding."

He handed me the alb.u.m. I flipped open the first page of the alb.u.m and saw the invitation.

"It started at midnight?" I asked in surprise. He nodded and spooned the soup into his mouth. "Who starts a wedding at midnight?"

"It was a Rocky-Horror-themed wedding, and they thought it'd be fun," he answered. His tone was even, but his arched eyebrow told me he thought it was a weird starting time.

"What's Rocky Horror Rocky Horror?"

Seth choked on his soup. "First Princess Bride Princess Bride and now and now Rocky Horror Rocky Horror. You have a complete void when it comes to the cla.s.sics."