Page 45 of Torn
“I do know, I do, because it makesmeecstatic.” I’ll be even more ecstatic, I thought, once I get off the phone and track down a reasonably priced plane ticket to Logan International, if such a bird exists.
“We’re going to have an amazing time! I can promise you that.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Hang on. Let me grab a piece of paper and a pen so I can jot down your flight details.”
Uh-oh. I thought fast. “I’ll email you the itinerary. I can’t remember specifics right offhand. Plus you don’t have to worry about writing anything down.”
“Good thinking. I’ll reply with exactly what you need to do when you get off the plane so you’ll have everything you need to come to me, sweet boy.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I can’t either. Hurry, Labor Day.”
Yeah. Hurry.
I once again told Walt I’d send him details, and then we hung up.
Then I headed toward my dining room and my computer. Time to research some flights.
Just as I was about to sit down, the phone rang again. I hopped up and dashed to it, thinking it must be Walt, telling me something he’d forgotten to mention.
“Hey there,” I called cheerily into the phone.
“Hey yourself,” a deep voice came back at me, one that wasn’t Walt’s.
I bit my lip. “So…. What’s up?”
Laughter. “You don’t know who this is, do you?”
I was pretty sure it was Tom, but not positive. I didn’t want to risk it. I’d given my number out to more than a few guys. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t call at all hours with all different sorts of propositions. Sometimes, late at night, they even showed up at the front door, calling up to my balcony as Marlon Brando once did to Stella.
“Of course I do. It’s you. And there’s no one like you, you sexy man.”
“You’re so full of shit. It’s Tom! How are you?”
I laughed. “I knew it was you.”
“Right.”
“I’m good.” Again with the guilt, because I’d just gotten off the phone with another man, promising to rendezvous with him in the not-too-distant future. I was beginning to wonder if I was as free-spirited as I thought I was. Maybe monogamy, long scorned, was really what I wanted. It certainly would be easier than this juggling act I found myself beginning.
“I told myselfnotto call you,” Tom said.
“Oh? Why?”
“Don’t you know the rule? All my buddies, both gay and straight, tell me not to call a guy the day after, you know? They say you should wait at least a day or three. Otherwise it makes you seem too eager. But what the fuck, Iamtoo eager, so I called. Hope you don’t mind I’m so pathetic.” He laughed.
“I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s sweet. And I’m thrilled to hear your voice.”
“Even if you didn’t recognize it.” Tom chuckled. “It’s okay. We just met.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then Tom said, kind of quietly. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I mean, like, nonstop. Just to let you know, that doesn’t happen with every guy I meet. In fact, I can honestly say I can’t remember when it last did, if it ever did.”
I realized the same had been true for me.
“So when can I see you again?” There was such hope in his voice! It lifted my spirits way, way up.
