Second Chance Chapter 7 -- The Morning After
I woke up around 8:30 and found that I was still lying wrapped in Julio's arms. For a moment, I just enjoyed the feeling of being held, the feeling of his flesh against my flesh. I could sense that his chest was smooth against my back. I looked at his arms. The skin was a rich chocolate color, and his arms were dusted in light black hair. His slow breathing was tickling the back of my head.
For a moment, it occurred to me how strange it was to have someone other than Pablo in my bed. In OUR bed, the bed I had shared with him. But the thought immediately passed. Pablo, I knew, would be happy for me.
But was I happy for me? It was clear now that Julio was attracted to me, but what did that mean? Was he looking for a roll in the sack? Or did he want to go out? Was I ready for either? I hadn't had sex in more than three years, I hadn't had any attraction to anyone at all. So how did I feel about this hot study being into me?
And the age difference! How could anything work out for us? But maybe just a chance to fool around again is what I needed?
There were too many thoughts running through my head. I needed to get up, so I carefully extricated myself from Julio's grasp, slipping from under his arm and slowly pulling my body away. He mumbled in his sleep, but he didn't wake up. I climbed off the bed, grabbed a T-shirt to put on, and headed out into the living room.
Tom was already up. I saw that he had folded up Julio's clothes and put them on the coffee table, along with the blanket.
"Well, well, well, and where did our young Brazilian friend end up last night?" Tom teased. "Because his clothes are still here, so I know he didn't leave. Unless he ran out of here naked."
I sighed. "At some point he climbed into bed with me, and I didn't have the strength to kick him out."
"And...?" he asked.
"And we went to sleep," I responded.
"That's all?"
"That's all. He got in bed and held me, and we went to sleep."
"Well, that's disappointing." He paused and then added. "Well, sort of. At least he wasn't fully clothed, and he held you, so that's a step forward."
I went to the kitchen and got myself a cup of coffee. Tom followed me in to get a refill.
"What do you want for breakfast? I could make pancakes or scrambled eggs."
"Pancakes? With this girlish figure?" he cried in mock indignation. "Scrambled eggs please."
I put a pan on the stove to heat and grabbed the copper bowl that I used to beat eggs. I took out the egg carton from the fridge. One by one, I cracked four eggs into the bowl and tossed the shells into the sink. I put the egg carton back and took out milk, pouring a large splash into the bowl, before returning the milk to the fridge. I took a whisk from the container of utensils on the counter and whipped the eggs into a froth. Then I added them to the hot pan, where they sizzled. I turned the pan down, so that they would cook slowly. I stood there and stirred them a few times so the eggs would not stick or brown.
"Toast?" I asked Tom. "I have whole grain bread."
"Sure," he said. So I took the loaf of bread out of the cupboard and took out a couple of slices. I popped them into the toaster and pulled down the lever. We waited in silence until the toast popped up, then I put one slice on my plate and one on his. The eggs were cooked, so I added salt and pepper and dished a serving on each of our plates. I had heard on some cooking show that if you add salt before the eggs are cooked, it makes them rubbery. I had no idea if this was true, but I always added the salt at the end anyway. I grabbed a tub of margarine out of the fridge and set it down as we both settled into the stools at the kitchen counter.
I took a bite of the eggs, and I was pleased that they were just right, cooked through but not dry.
"So what are you going to do with your boy?" Tom asked as he spread margarine on his toast.
"I'm not sure," I said.
"He seems quite smitten with you," Tom noted.
"We'll see how he feels when he's sober," I said.
"I suspect the alcohol let him be more open, but I don't think his crush is alcohol induced." He paused as he used his fork to shovel a little of the scrambled eggs onto his toast and then took a bite. When he had swallowed, he added, "The question is how do YOU react? Are you even available to him? Emotionally, I mean."
I thought for a long while as we ate.
"Honestly, I don't know." I paused as I considered it. "I might be. Maybe. I'm kind of intrigued."
"Just be careful with the poor kid," Tom said. "Don't break his heart."
"I think we're pretty far from that!" I protested.
"Perhaps," he said. "Just be careful with him."
We ate in silence for a while as I pondered what Tom had said. As crass as he often seemed, Tom also had a kind heart and would never intentionally hurt anyone. It was true that he had a lot of fun, and he had been a slut from back in our days in law school. But he was also nice to the guys he hooked up with, and as much as he played the field, he was also always on the lookout for something more. The occasional boyfriends that he had dated over the years, however, had often taken advantage of his kindness. He had been burned enough times that he was quite cautious now about dating. Still, about once a year, he would casually mention that he had gone out to dinner with someone in a way that let me know there was some expectation. He might mention over the next week or two that they'd gone to a movie or play together. But then I wouldn't hear about them again. If I pressed, I'd find out that the guy was really only interested in sex, or that he was interested in Tom because of his money, or that he turned out to be a racist or Republican or something equally objectionable to Tom.
"Oh, and happy actual birthday," Tom said. "Does 65 feel any different from 64?"
"Yes," I replied. "I suddenly feel much wiser and more mature."
"Finally!" he joked.
I got up to refill my coffee.
"What time is your flight," I asked him.
"2 o'clock," he replied. "I should probably leave here by noon."
After a leisurely breakfast, Tom went to shower and pack, while I cleaned up. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on, since it was full. Then I took the load of clothes that I had washed yesterday out of the dryer and folded them on the couch. I turned on the TV and watched a cooking show. Since Julio was still sleeping in my bed, I couldn't put them away, so I piled them up in the laundry basket. Tom brought his bags out and set them by the front door, then he came and sat with me on the couch.
Around 11 a.m., the door to my room opened and Julio appeared, looking sleepy and sheepish.
"Good morning, sunshine," Tom mocked.
"Morning," Julio mumbled.
Seeing him there for the first time standing shyly in the doorway in just his Andrew Christian boxer briefs, I could appreciate that he really was handsome. He had a smooth upper body and flawless skin. His stomach was flat and his chest and arms had just enough definition. As tall and thin as he was, he was lanky, but in a way that was more endearing than awkward. He looked younger to me than 31.
"Sorry about last night," he mumbled, still standing in the doorway.
"Would you like some coffee?" I asked. "Let me make a fresh pot." As I got up to go to the kitchen, I indicated one of the chairs next to the couch. "Come, sit," I told him.
Tom stood up. "I think I should probably get going," he said.
"You don't have to rush out," I responded.
"I'll leave you two to chat."
He followed me to the kitchen and got onto the Uber app to book a car.
After his car was reserved, Tom leaned over and spoke to me sotto voce, "While it would be entertaining to watch, I'll leave you two to talk things out." He smiled mischievously at me. "On condition that you call later and let me know what happens!"
I rolled my eyes at him.
Julio wandered into the kitchen, having put on his polo shirt from the night before but still in just his briefs below.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Not bad," he said.
"You're not hung over?" Tom asked. "Do you remember last night?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not sure what..." His words drifted off.
"It probably helped that you threw up," Tom said, and Julio grimaced.
Tom's phone pinged.
"My driver is two minutes away. I should go," he said.
He gave me a quick hug.
"Thank you so much for flying out," I told him.
"Happy birthday," he said.
He turned and was about to shake Julio's hand but then pulled him in for a hug instead.
"And nice to meet you, Julio." He pulled back and held Julio by his shoulders. "Judah is a phenomenal person, so treat him well."
"I will," Julio whispered.
Tom walked to the door and I followed him. He grabbed his bags, and I walked out the apartment door and down the stairs. He went out the glass front door and down the walk to the curb, and I watched him get into the car and drive away.
When I got back upstairs, Julio was still standing in the kitchen with his head hung down in shyness or embarrassment.
"I think the coffee's ready," I said and grabbed a mug. "How do you take it?" I asked.
"Do you have sugar?" he asked.
"Yes," I chuckled, "I have sugar." I opened a cupboard and took out the plastic bin I kept sugar in. I took off the lid and grabbed a spoon for him to use. He carefully spooned out two teaspoonfuls and then stirred them into his coffee.
We stood there silently for a moment, not looking at one another. He took a couple of sips of his coffee.
"So, Julio, about last night," I began tentatively.
He cut me off. "I'm so sorry Mr. Ellis," he said and then corrected himself before I could object. "Judah. I was out of line. I'm not sure what got into me. I don't usually drink like that. But I guess I was nervous. And I didn't pace myself."
He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I took advantage of you. I didn't mean to be so forward. It was very inappropriate. I know you don't feel that way about me. I understand that you won't want to see me again, so I'll leave you alone. I can go now if you'd like."
I looked at him, trying hard to suppress a smile.
"Well, that was a lot," I said. Then I smiled in a way that I hoped was kind. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"
"Now? Together?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Now. Together. We can go chat and get something in your stomach."
He just nodded in agreement.
"I'm going to go get dressed," I said. As I walked to my room, I called out over my shoulder. "You'll have to wear what you wore last night, because I don't think I have anything that would fit you."
I put on a pair of my favorite boxer briefs and some jeans that fit tightly. I knew that some of my jeans were bulky and not particularly flattering, and I consciously chose the pair that I thought looked best. I was at first going to put on a T-shirt, since the place I was going to take us was very casual, but then I decided to put on a light cotton sweater instead, one that everyone always told me looked good on me. I wasn't consciously thinking it, but I wanted to look good for Julio. I slipped on the same dress sneakers I'd worn the night before.
When I came out of my room, Julio had pulled on his pants and was lacing up his shoes.
"Shall we go?" I asked and led him out the front door. I locked the door behind us, then led him down the stairs and outside.
"So how well do you know Chicago?" I asked him.
"Not at all," he said. "I just came for my job interview, and then I've been here for a week."
"Well, Chicago is big on neighborhoods. I guess New York is the same way, but everyone identifies where they live or where they work or where they go for dinner by the neighborhood it's in. This is the Uptown neighborhood. It's mostly residential, but there's a nice area of bars and restaurants and such on North Broadway. I pointed out a few of the neighborhood landmarks as we walked, mostly restaurants or stores that I frequented.
We arrived at our destination, the Golden House Restaurant and Pancake House.
"This isn't too far from where we were last night, but that's on Sheridan, and this is Broadway."
Since it was almost noon on a Saturday, the place was packed and there was a line. We put in our names and waited by the front door.
"Where you're living is Lakeview, though most people call it Wrigleyville, because of Wrigley Field. The gays call is Boystown, though. There's still a lot of bars there, but not many of the gays can afford to live there anymore. The neighborhood just north of here is Andersonville. It's an old Swedish neighborhood where a lot of the gays have moved in the past couple of decades. Chicago's still very segregated. The South Side is mostly Black, the North Side is mostly white, and Latinos live to the west."
The hostess called my name. "Judah?" We came forward, and she led us to a booth toward the back. She handed us menus as we sat down.
The Golden House was a classic breakfast place - no frills, with shiny red banquettes. There was a strange modern art piece that the city had put in for some reason in front of the building, but otherwise the place seemed like it hadn't changed for fifty years. It was next to the Riviera Theatre, which was a concert venue that I'd been to a few times, but not for some years. I didn't think about it when I chose the place, but when we stepped inside, I remembered that this had been one of Pablo's favorite places because the owner was from Mexico, and a number of his family members worked there. When we visited, they would often speak in Spanish and bond. Maybe, the thought crossed my mind, this wasn't the best place to bring Julio.
Julio and I looked over our menus. "Everything on the menu is good," I said. The place was filled with the sounds of a busy diner - people talking and laughing, plates and silverware clattering.
The waiter -- one of the owner's family members, I think -- came to set down two glasses of water and take our order. If I had been with Pablo, I know that he would have recognized us, but there was no sign of recognition today. I ordered a BLT Club sandwich and Julio ordered a waffle breakfast, with two scrambled eggs and bacon, and we both ordered coffees.
After the waiter left, I tried to start the conversation that I knew we needed to have.
"So, Julio..." I started. But he interrupted me.
"I'm sorry Mr. ... Judah," he began, still struggling over what to call me. "You're being very kind to me. And I appreciate it. I'm sorry how I acted last night, and I can leave you alone. I know you're not attracted to me..."
This time I interrupted him. "Who says I'm not attracted to you? Anyone with eyes in their head would be attracted to you! You're incredibly hot!" He blushed a little and looked down. "But what I've been trying to tell you is..." I was reaching for the right words. "Shit," I said under my breath. "Look, Julio, I haven't been on a date since the 1980s, so I'm out of practice and awkward and don't know how to react. I was with the same man for thirty years, and since he died, I haven't been with anyone. At all. I haven't even thought about anyone. But since I met you a few days ago, well, it's like I've suddenly woken up. But I'm not sure..." I trailed off.
Julio looked up. "So you think I'm hot?" he asked quietly.
"Julio, are you hearing what I'm saying?"
"Yeah," he said with a mischievous smile sneaking across his face, "But ... you think I'm hot." This time he said it as a statement, not a question.
"Of course I think you're hot! Look at you! You're all tall and thin and toned and have a beautiful face and perfect skin and a great smile! And you're smart and kind!" I was getting exasperated. "But that's NOT the point! What I''m saying is..."
"I hear you. It's okay," he said calmly, his tone changing. He reached across the table and set his hand gently on mine and smiled over at me. "If there's even a possibility, I can be patient."
"Julio, I ..." I suddenly didn't know what to say.
"Look, Judah," he started, pulling his hand back and leaning back in the booth. "Like I told you before, I don't have much experience dating. But I want to try. I ..." He sighed and looked away across the diner, then he looked me directly in the eyes. "If I can be frank, I like older guys. I find guys my age immature and uninteresting. And I find you really hot, physically. But also I find you so appealing in every other way. You have everything so together! You have so many friends, and you seem so good at your job. And you just seem so generous. The truth is that after Susan mentioned you and talked about how wonderful you are, I Googled you and saw your pictures and thought, wow, this guy is sexy."
One of the waitresses brought our coffees. I added milk to mine, while Julio added sugar. He sipped his coffee, looked around the room agin, then looked back at me.
"Look, I'm not asking you to rush into anything, but if you would give me a chance, maybe we could go on a date or two and hang out and get to know each other."
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I would be happy to go on a date with you."
He smiled broadly, and I saw his whole body relax. Just then, the waiter came with our plates. The portions were enormous, as they always were here. My sandwich was certainly more than I could eat, and Julio's plate had a huge amount of food on it. We dug in and began to eat. We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, with Julio just looking up at me now and then and smiling.
We then talked for a few minutes about his job that was starting tomorrow. He explained a little about the company and what he thought he would be doing. He was going to be part of a team of four lawyers. AnguFam was only a decade old, but they recently had success with a drug to treat dementia and were now expanding rapidly. "Two years ago, they still only had one lawyer."
He asked me about my work and the types of cases I focused on. He said that as an immigrant who hoped to stay in the US, he was very interested.
After another pause, he broke in. "So, if it's not too uncomfortable, can you tell me about Pablo? How did you meet? What was he like? I don't mean to pry or bring up anything sad, but from what I hear, he sounds as though he was an amazing man."
I smiled a little sadly.
"But, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want," Julio added quickly. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"I don't mind," I assured him. "I like to talk about Pablo. I like to remember him."
I leaned back into the banquette. "We met at work. He worked with immigrants, and he was so caring and committed. And when I met him, I didn't think he was gay, but then he asked me out on a date. And I fell for him right away after that." I thought for a moment. "It was 1990. And I was 31, just like you, and I had hardly any experience dating."
"What did he look like?" Julio asked.
"Oh, he was handsome! He had thick, curly black hair and beautiful tan skin and muscles. But not too much! And his eyes! I could have just melted in them."
Someone came by and refilled my coffee cup, and Julio finished his whole overflowing plate of food, while I told him about Pablo and our life together. And somehow, it wasn't awkward at all. Julio listened attentively and just let me talk, interrupting only occasionally with a question that showed that he was listening and was interested.
"He sounds like he was an amazing man," Julio said. "I wish that I could have met him. Everyone that I met last night mentioned him and what a lovely couple you were."
"I thought we would grow old together," I said. "Well, I guess we did. He was 68 when he passed, and here I am just turning 65."
"Oh!" Julio said. "I'm so sorry! I just remembered that today is your actual birthday! Happy Birthday!!"
"Thank you," I said. "We all celebrated last night. It was good."
We sipped our coffee for a few minutes in silence.
"Thank you for sharing with me," he said. "I hope you didn't mind"
"No. I had so many good years with Pablo. I am always happy to talk about him." I looked around for the waiter, "Should we get the check?"
Julio nodded and I caught the waiter's eye and made the universally used checkmark sign. He brought the check over, and I paid, then we got up to leave.
Just outside the door, Julio hugged me. "I should head home," he said.
"You can come back to my place, if you'd like" I said. "Did you leave anything there?"
"No," he said. "I should go. If I came back with you ... Well, I told you that I'd take things slowly. Can I see you next Friday? Maybe we could see a movie?"
"Yes," I said. "Sure."
He looked around. "Which way is the L?"
I pointed him toward the Wilson L stop, but then I decided to walk him there. It wasn't too far. We walked in silence for a couple of blocks, then at the entrance, he gave me a hug. As he started to walk inside the glass doors, I called after him. "Oh, and Julio, good luck starting the job tomorrow!"
"Thanks!" he called back and walked inside. I watched him go until he disappeared out of sight up the stairs. I felt contented, and also a little excited. I paused there for a moment, then I turned to head back to my apartment. I couldn't help but smile the entire way home.
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