Page 31 of Scout Takes the Lead
That sure as hell happened. Basic training, my combat engineer course, and life in a battle zone changed me in many ways. But at heart I was still that lonely boy listening to the train whistle. By the time the train passed, I was feeling better. An older woman was waiting on the other side of the tracks, and we nodded to each other as we passed. I was okay, I thought. In Hollywood I was surrounded by good people. That this was home, and it made me feel safe. With Scout by my side, I felt I could do anything.
16: Feather Bed: Grace
I wanted to take things slow with Alex. I was glad he wasn’t as knowledgeable in bed as Garrett—-it gave me the chance to take the lead, to show him what I liked. He was an intriguing mix of gentle and strong, able to hold me in a way that I felt protected, yet not overwhelmed.
He texted me the next morning to say that he’d had fun and hoped I had, too. I deliberately waited a couple of hours to answer him, so I wouldn’t fall into the same hectic pattern I had with Garrett. But I didn’t need to worry about that with Alex—-he texted me again that he was working, and then needed to spend time with Scout, and he’d get back to me that evening. That was fine with me.
I was surprised later that evening when he texted and asked if I would be available for lunch the next day. I agreed, but he wouldn’t give me any details. “It’ll be a surprise,” he said.
I spoke to Becca after that. “Surprises are nice,” she said.
“You don’t think he’s starting the same pattern as Garrett, do you? Taking charge of everything?”
“Grace, slow down,” Becca said. “You can’t keep comparing Alex to Garrett. They’re two different guys.”
“But Garrett was part of a pattern,” I said. “Guys with problems I tried to fix. And Alex certainly has his share of problems.”
“Has he given you any indication that those problems involve women?”
I sat back on the sofa, the phone against my ear, and picked up a bottle of nail polish. “No. His problems all have to do with the Army, as far as I can tell.”
“You said he’s seeing a therapist for those, right?”
“Well, he said the guy is a counselor at the VA. I’m not sure that’s the same thing as a therapist.” I stuffed Styrofoam spreaders between my toes and went to work.
“Maybe you should ask him that,” Becca said. “Is this guy just helping him return to the world after his service, or is he a psychologist or a psychiatrist.”
“It’s hard to bring that up in conversation.”
“You guys seem to have a strong connection. See what happens tomorrow at lunch, if there’s a good way to bring it up.”
Becca and I talked for a few more minutes and then I finished with my toenails. I surveyed my hands—-the polish there was still good, not chipped or flaking. I could go another few days without changing.
Alex texted me the next morning, asking me to come to a pocket park along Hollywood Boulevard, halfway between his place and mine, at noon. I agreed, curious. When I got there, he had spread a cloth on the ground for a picnic, and towels for both of us to sit on. He had a plastic container full of food and drinks.
“You said you like bagels,” he said. “I drove out to the Brooklyn Bagel Factory and got us an assortment, along with regular cream cheese and the kind with lox. Orange juice and water.”
“This is perfect,” I said, as I sat down. With Scout, we made our own little threesome in the middle of the city. The weather was warm, with a nice breeze coming in from the ocean, and the sky was a light blue dappled with puffy clouds that showed no hint of rain.
“What were you like in high school?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I guess I was a jock. I lifted weights, but I couldn’t play any organized sports because I worked most days after school and most weekends. I sold tickets at the movie theater and bagged groceries at the supermarket. In the summers I worked construction as soon as I was old enough. My dad was good with his hands and had lots of tools and he showed me how to do things. I can hang and tape drywall, install ceiling grids and put together furniture.” He looked down at the tablecloth. “I’ve been building a dollhouse in my spare time.”
“A dollhouse? Why? Do you know a little girl who wants one?”
“It’s a small project I can work on in my house. I’ve got it all framed out, and built the roof, though I haven’t fastened it on yet. The floors are in, and the ceilings, and I’ve even got a couple of light fixtures.”
“Wow. I’d love to see it.”
He smiled shyly. “It still needs a lot of work. I can’t sew, so I can’t make any of the curtains or tablecloths or sheets.”
“I can help you with that,” I said. We ate and we talked, and it was very sweet. I tried to remember the last time I’d been on a picnic, and it had been years. I wouldn’t have thought of setting one up, but I enjoyed myself.
When we were finished, Alex cleaned everything up, and we stood. He kissed me, gently, and then backed away. “This was nice,” I said. “Thank you for organizing it.”
“My pleasure. You’ve done so much for Scout and me, I wanted to do something for you.”
I walked back to the pet store for my afternoon appointment and it felt like my feet barely touched the ground. What could I do to demonstrate my thanks?
