Chapter 1, Part 8 "Sam" Saturday, May 28, 2033
The low setting sun does little to reduce the unusually intense humidity, but does cast my tall shadow on the colonial door in front of me. The door has a knocker, and I choose it instead of the doorbell. Everyone has a doorbell. Knockers are unique, like Javier, and this is his house. When I'm in a new situation, I want to be adventurous. I take pleasure in unique, whimsical things you don't see every day, things you don't expect. Surprises. Javier's a surprise in my life now, and I do like him. I'm still wondering in what way though. A friend. Something more? I'd like to find out. I've imagined being romantically intimate with him and it does appeal to me. I know there's a relationship to consider, but with relationships, I've always been more impulsive than careful. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. We'll see what tonight brings. I tap the knocker three times, step back a polite distance, and wait. No bark. Javier did mention a cat, though.
The door opens. In front of me is Javier, wearing a pair of blue and white Hawaiian floral swim trunks, not smiling, but making eye contact. Suddenly remembering, as if as an afterthought, he smiles. Cute. He steps back so I can enter. Javier's house inside is a little cooler than the humid evening outside, but not by much. No air conditioning, which surprises me because the house looks relatively new.
"Thanks for inviting me over. So this is where you live," I say as I look around, my eyes finally falling on a row of shoes, sandals, and flip flops on the travertine foyer floor. Taking the hint, I grab onto the newel post at the base of the stairs with one hand, and remove the heel straps of my sandals with my other hand. The scent of wood fills the air as I look over my shoulder into the living room and notice dark rough-grain hardwood floors, wainscoting, and detailed crown molding. Everything looks new and freshly painted or varnished. My house is a hundred-year-old Victorian, but at least it has air conditioning.
"My mom's working late and Mateo's out with his friends," Javier says. "He might stop by later. Did you bring your swimsuit?"
"I'm wearing it under my clothes. So, we're alone for now?" I ask.
"Yeah. Hungry?"
"I grabbed a bite to eat just before I left home, but something to drink would be nice."
"Beer?
"Now it's a party," I respond. "Remember when the minimum age for alcohol used to be 21?"
"Yeah," Javier says as he turns and heads toward the kitchen. "Glad it's 18 now?"
"You bet. Why is your mom working on Saturday night?" I ask.
"She's trying to finish up a project before she leaves for Thailand."
I follow Javier back into the kitchen, savoring the sight of how the last light of the day coming through the beveled glass in the front door projects a rainbow of prismatic light and shadow effects across his honey-brown back and shoulders. As I savor the sight of how Javier's broad shoulders contrast nicely with his slim waist, I wonder how it might feel to be held in those smooth sinuous arms. The kitchen window over the triple-basin sink is huge, and the pool looks inviting. Javier's neighborhood out in the Chicago suburb of Glenview is quite large, and I'm already grungy from the seven-block walk from the L-train station. Javier gets two bottles of Moosehead from the fridge and opens them. The beer and the pool are welcome respites after a long walk in Chicago humidity.
"Thanks for coming," he says as he hands me my beer, looking away, awkwardness showing in his demeanor. I can tell he's trying to think of something else to say, but he's nervous about being alone with me. Cute.
After taking a long satisfying drink and setting my bottle on the counter, I look up into Javier's sweetly captivating brown eyes and wonder what's really going on in his head under that thick mop of jet black hair. I imagine he's one of those people who, unlike my dad, will never be bald, even in old age. As I reach out and take his hand in mine, I sense secrets, or maybe, I just haven't gotten to know him that well yet. I clasp my other hand on top of his and bring his hand to my mouth for a kiss, savoring the musky scent of his skin. Then, looking up into Javier's mysterious eyes, I see his usual poker face. This time though, he doesn't ask me why I'm doing this like he did last time. He's going along with it, curious like I am, but clearly unsure how to respond.
But I am sure. I take situations as they come, and I've never taken life too seriously. There's a lot of spontaneity inside me that's always looking for an excuse to come out.
Letting go of his hand, I reach up and caress his cheek, never breaking eye contact. My hand moves around to the back of his neck, and I pull him closer. Javier lowers his head, and our lips meet.