Page 60 of Ambiguous
It’s early evening, right as the aquarium is closing. I’m sitting in a dark car with tinted windows, waiting for Sam Stone to start ourdate that’s not a date and don’t even think that way, Jules.
Yes, this is going swimmingly. Why do you ask?
I’m more jittery than before a performance, and that’s saying something. I don’t know if it’s because we’re facing those suction-cupped creatures—shiver—or because Sam will be so close and yet so far.
My car brings me around the back of the building to a staff entrance, where I wait for him.
Not a date, Julian. This is not a date.
This is an excursion with a friend. A creative baby-minding trip by a lawyer. A…
Whatever it is, it can’t be a date, because he has a boyfriend. If anyone asks, this visit is inspiration for my album.
Which is true, even if it’s not the whole truth.
His red Audi pulls up, and my heart bangs against my rib cage like a dog at the rescue shelter struggling to get out of its plexiglass prison. I can’t keep my fingers from trembling. Still, I manage to exit my car and walk over to him.
Sam Stone looks glorious, all polished and shiny, but I know that his glossy, magazine-perfect smile and conservative suit are covering a passionate heart. I repeat all the reasons why I can’t have him, and yet when I look at him, I think,Mine.
Irrationally. Hopelessly. Selfishly.
I don’t want him because he’s my muse. I want him because he cares enough to do this, and he’s doing it for me, not for him. He’s doing it to help me get over my fears, not to blast on social media that he hung out with me.
That’s revolutionary.
“Hello!” I say and give him a hearty handshake.
I want to hug him.
He shakes my hand warmly and smiles at me. I like how direct his gaze is. I take off my sunglasses so I can fully appreciate his beautiful blue eyes.
“Hey, Jules. Nice to see you.”
I don’t want to let go of his hand. “Sam. I’m…”I’m embarrassed that words are failing me. “Scared.”
“We don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
“No. I want to.” I let go of his hand, and we walk to the back door, where we’re greeted by the program director.
“So nice to have you visit, Mr. Hill.”
“Jules, please. And this is Sam Stone.”
She shakes both of our hands. “You’re interested in seeing our octopus exhibit?”
We nod.
“Follow me.”
It’s quiet, and while there are workers around washing windows and cleaning glass surfaces, we otherwise have the place to ourselves. We stop at the entrance to “Creatures of the Pacific.”
“Here’s a map,” the director says. Sam takes it, folds it neatly, and sticks it in his pocket. “Your manager told me you wanted to visit for artistic inspiration?”
“I do.”
“In that case, while I’d be happy to accompany you, I expect you’d rather look around with minimal distractions. The exhibit is set up as a self-guided tour, so there’s plenty of information provided along the way. Take your time, and Winston at the security desk can let you out when you’re ready. If you have questions, please ask him or one of the crew to find me. Thanks for visiting, and enjoy.”
She leaves us, and I stand at the entrance to the exhibit, not making a move to go in. It’s like my feet are encased in concrete.
