Breach of Contract
CHAPTER 3: P-town
Mid-April was not the peak of tourist season in Provincetown, Massachusetts, but it was what Ian wanted at that point in his life. A couple of years after graduating for Harvard Law, Ian had joined some friends in P-town for PRIDE. What he could remember was a lot of alcohol, getting a terrible sunburn on the beach, and lots of sex. Back then quantity topped quality. However, nowadays Ian did PRIDE in Chicago where he could go home and crash, or fuck, in his own California King bed.
At 36, Ian certainly wasn't old, but he wanted to relax, read a book, do a little shopping, walk on the beach, and enjoy a nice meal. Of course, those plans were all made before picking up a lost puppy. Ian was beginning to fear his quiet retreat was about to become victim to a drama storm. Also, when Ian insisted, or at least strongly invited, Matt to come with him to P-town, he'd forgotten that the VRBO he'd rented had only one queen sized bed. The only other sleeping option was a short futon, which would be hardly comfortable for a 6'2" man. So, the first order of business was the house rules, starting with sleeping.
"Okay," Ian said when they stepped into the rental, "let's settle some things. Have a seat." Ian pulled a legal pad out of his computer bag, and began to speak as he wrote, "The undersigned agrees..."
"Wait!? You're writing a contract?"
"Damn right I am. You're crazy if you think I'm ever going to trust your word again."
Matt took a good look at Ian and decided this was not the time to push him. The emotions were just under the surface, and it wouldn't take much to provoke an emotional outburst. So, Matt said, "Fine, what are your conditions?"
"First, Matt Harris acknowledges that Ian Coburn still hates his guts."
Matt nodded.
"Second, I will share the bed with you on the condition there is no touching or any display or act of intimacy. Also, you will not again get into bed drunk as a skunk."
Matt again nodded.
"Third, we will share cooking, washing dishes, cleaning up, and any other domestic duties. Fourth, neither of us are required to invite, or accept invitations, to any activity and/or event. Fifth, we will not address, discuss, remember, or analyze any of our shared history, decisions, or past actions."
"I object to that. We do have a history that includes good times as well as bad. I don't think we should, or can, pretend we don't have a past."
"Fine. Fifth, discussion of good times is permitted. However, any discussion of the betrayal shall be by mutual consent and at an agreed upon time and place. Is that acceptable?"
Matt wanted to contest the use of the term betrayal to describe his decision to end their relationship and marry Ellen, but didn't really have another word to substitute, so he nodded.
"Good. Is there anything you want to add?" Matt shook his head. "While the wording of this document would get me laughed out of Contracts, I think we both understand the intent. Please sign," Ian said, and handed Matt the pad. After Matt signed the paper, Ian did as well.
"You didn't mention anything about how we are dividing the expenses. Is this going on my tab?"
"No, you are my guest," Ian said. Then Matt looked at the legal pad Ian was holding, and Ian smiled and said, "Well, guest may be too generous of a term." Matt responded with a small smile.
After they unloaded the car, Ian said, "We need to grab some lunch and get some groceries. However, I need to ask you a question first."
"I think I know what it is, but go ahead and ask," Matt said.
"Matt, do you have a drinking problem."
"No. I'm sure after the last couple of nights you don't believe me, but I am really a very responsible drinker. I may get a buzz on watching the games on the weekend, but I rarely drink during the week, and I haven't been drunk like I have the last two nights in years. I am embarrassed that I lost control like that, and I am very sorry you ended up having to take care of me."
Ian smile and said, "You don't know how glad I am to hear that because I really want to pick up a couple of six packs of beer."
Matt smiled and said "Me too."
The place Ian had rented was located over a sandwich shop, so they decided that was an easy choice for lunch. Business was slow, so the owner came out to ask how the sandwiches were.
"Fantastic," Matt said, "This is the best roast beef I have ever had. So many times roast beef sandwiches are dry, but this one the juice is soaking into the bun."
Ian added, "Manny's Deli in Chicago would tell you they have the best Ruebens in North America, but this stacks up with the best."
"Thanks, I'm Pops and my wife is Contessa. Are you the guys renting upstairs?"
"Yeah, it's a great place. Do you own it?"
"We own the building, but it's our son's business. He has several VRBOs in Provincetown, and he manages at least ten others for owners who don't live here year round. Are you boys a couple."
Matt didn't know what to say, but Ian jumped right in. "Nope. We went to Harvard Law together. We met up again at our 10-year reunion and decided to do a little extra catching up. I'm Ian Coburn and I live in Chicago, and he's Matt Harris from Denver."
"Well, it's always great to have people from out of town stop in," Pops said. "Be sure to tell your friends about Pops and Contessas."
"We will," Matt said, "but before you go, I noticed that your shirt says `Mustard, Mayonnaise, and Lube. What's the joke?"
"Before we bought this place, it had a reputation. People call it things like Lubewich, Subgay, and The Meat Market. So, we decided to riff on that tradition. That's why we have a vending machine back by the restrooms that sells condoms, lube, and other supplies. During PRIDE we can't keep it stocked."
Matt and Ian both laughed and said goodbye.
The closest grocery store was the Wellfleet Marketplace in Wellfleet, Massachusetts. The store was a local family owned business and was fun shopping. Unlike supermarkets where all the meat is hermetically sealed in plastic, the grocery had a real butcher. There was a grill at the VRBO, so they picked up steaks, and burgers. The store also specialized in local products, so they picked up some items to try, in addition to the staples. Lastly, they picked out beer and wine.
On the way back to Provincetown, Ian asked Matt if he had anything else he needed or wanted while they were out.
"If you don't mind, I would like to go back to the rental. My kids will be getting home from school soon, and I would like to call them and find out how they are doing."
"Of course," Ian said. So, when they got back to the rental, and the groceries were put away, Ian said he was going for a walk. He figured Matt needed some privacy.
Ian took his iPad and went to explore the neighborhood. It wasn't long before he found a coffee shop where he could sit and check his email. For once his email wasn't piled up like a rush hour traffic jam on the Dan Ryan Expressway. After a quick check of socials, Ian opened Grinder just to see what he was giving up by inviting Matt along to P-town.
"Fuck, this is definitely a target-rich environment," Ian muttered one of his favorite lines from Top Gun. He closed the app and tried to figure out how to metaphorically send Matt to the movies for an afternoon. Ian then pulled up his library on the iPad and opened the book he was reading. An hour later, the barista said the shop would be closing in 15 minutes. He had totally lost track of time. Ian dropped an extra ten in the tip jar and headed back to the rental.
When he got back, he found Matt curled up on the bed. It looked like he'd been crying, and a picture of his three children lay beside him. The scene was too sad, and Ian went outside to light the grill. At one point he wiped some tears away, and told himself it was just smoke from the charcoal, but down deep he knew the truth. He still cared about Matt.
When the steaks were done, Ian woke Matt for supper.
"I hope medium is okay. Back in law school we weren't eating much steak, so I don't remember how you like it."
"Medium is great," Matt said. "I'm sorry I fell asleep and didn't help you cook."
"It really wasn't that much. Grill some steaks, make a salad, and finish up with Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat."
"Wow, that brings back memories," Matt said. "Mom was a good cook, but she was also Dad's legal secretary, so she made a lot of quick meals. When she would ask me and my brother what we wanted for supper, Bobby would say `wice-a-woni and hamburger."
"I didn't know you have a brother."
"Bobby died when I was a Junior in high school. He had leukemia. My oldest son is named after him."
"I am so sorry. I didn't want to stir up sad memories. You're dealing with enough right now."
"You didn't know, but thanks."
"You said your oldest is named Bobby."
"Well, Robert, he's 9; Mandy is 7, and..." Matt suddenly stopped and hesitated, "...and Ian is 4."
I hope you enjoy "Breach of Contract."
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