The usual disclaimers apply. If you're reading this and it's not legal for you to do so, or you don't want to, then by all means close your browser window. A note - this is entirely fictional.
Dear readers: Thank you for the e-mails! I have gotten some good ideas for last names for our trio of characters. Also, apologies for taking so long on this part. Writer's block sucks. But am unblocked now.
The Dance of Death - Part 4 ===========================
As I sat at the "Out on Campus" table for the noon to two PM shift on Thursday afternoon, I noted that Jeffrey had arrived at nearly the same time as I. I nodded a greeting, and quickly got organized. Barely a minute after I had made sure of the names and availability of all our brochures and pamphlets, a shy-looking woman who looked to be about 25 walked up and inquired about whether "Out on Campus" included transgendered people. I took a gamble and gamely replied, "Why, yes, we do. If you'll just take one of these brochures, please. It tells who we are in more detail, and where we meet every week." She smiled lukewarmly, took the pamphlet and quickly disappeared.
I looked over at Jeffrey, who appeared to be stifling a giggle. "Oh, and what was so funny about that, mister?" I playfully nudged his shoulder and he said, "Daniel, she probably couldn't tell, but I could - you looked like a deer caught in a car's headlights!" I had to giggle a bit as I knew I had been caught out by an odd (to me, anyway) request. A thought occurred to me. "Hey, Jeffrey. I feel kind of stupid mentioning this, but I never did get your last name."
He grinned. "Katzenberg. Jeffrey Katzenberg." He held out his hand in a formal manner.
"Whitman. Daniel Whitman." Equally formally, I shook his hand.
"So, Mr. Whitman, what are you doing tonight?"
I was stuck for an answer. "Um, well... nothing, really. Quiet night, you know?" I shrugged.
"Aw, c'mon. That's no fun. Come over to my apartment, willya? I haven't had anybody over to even look at it yet, so this means I get to hold a mini-housewarming." He winked and mimed drinking a beer.
I didn't know whether to accept or not. Jeffrey certainly wouldn't mean me any harm, but I still felt skittish about this. A counterargument occurred to me. "Tell you what. You come over to my place tonight, and I'll visit your place tomorrow. How's that?"
He looked somewhat abashed, but brightened up when I said I'd visit his place on Friday night. "Deal. Gimme five!" And so saying, he held up his hand for the high-five, which I returned. He smiled warmly, and put his hand on my shoulder for just a second, then withdrew it. The same strange heat I had felt when I first shook hands with him at the Out on Campus meeting again radiated from his hand. It was oddly comforting, and yet unfamiliar...
=-=-=-=
At two PM, we had finished, and amazingly enough, we only had a few dirty looks pointed at us the entire time, and most of the people who came up were honestly curious about what the group was all about.
The replacement crew had arrived, and Jeffrey and I quickly vacated our spots to allow them to be subjected to the benign glare of the populace.
We mingled with the crowd quickly, and I realized that I needed to check in with Jonathan, to let him know that I was bringing a guest over. I dug a quarter from my pocket and started looking for a pay phone. Just before dashing to it, I said, "Hey, Jeffrey, can you wait here a sec?"
He replied, "Sure."
I shoved the quarter into the slot and dialled the apartment number. After three rings, the recorded message played. "Hi. Jonathan and Daniel aren't in right now, but if you'd like to leave a message for either of them, please do so after the beep." The obligatory BEEEP rang in my ears and I wondered why answering machines always had to be that loud. "Jonathan, it's me. I'm bringing a friend over for a bit and I was hoping it wouldn't be too much trouble for you to prep dinner for three, instead of two. Thanks!"
I resumed walking towards the bus depot with Jeffrey, and he inquired, "Who did you have to call?"
I realized I'd forgotten to mention I had a roommate. "Oh, just my roommate. His name's Jonathan Walker. He's a great cook, so I was letting him know there'd be an extra plate for dinner."
Jeffrey sputtered and finally got out, "You don't need to do--"
I broke in with, "Jeffrey, relax. It's not like I'm bringing over the whole Out on Campus group for dinner!"
He still seemed uncertain. "It feels like I'm imposing or something."
"Well, if Jonathan really doesn't want to cook, that's fine. We'll order in or something."
At that, Jeffrey seemed relieved. I marvelled again at the way his entire body somehow seemed to reflect his emotional state. His eyes would twinkle and his whole body would radiate warmth when he was happy; when he was upset, his eyes went flat and his body would become stiff.
I remarked, "Anyway, we'd better get moving if we're going to catch the bus in time."
We began walking briskly to the bus depot, and not long after, the bus pulled up to admit passengers for the first stage of the journey to downtown Vancouver...
=-=-=-=
An hour later, we stared up at the tower that I claimed a small portion of as my home. Jeffrey just boggled and said, "You live way up there?!" I laughed and said, "Yep. The real deal. C'mon, let's get inside."
The elevator deposited us on the correct floor, and I guided Jeffrey to the apartment I shared with Jonathan. I opened the door, and as soon as we were inside, he made a beeline for the window to take in the view. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "Nice view you got here!"
"The advantages of living near Stanley Park, off Georgia and Thurlow." I couldn't help but brag a bit. "Anyway, want the nickel tour?"
"Okay. Lead on, O king!"
I showed him around - there really wasn't all that much to see to begin with. Jonathan's bedroom, mine, the shared bathroom, the dining room, with the home entertainment center against one wall that ended at the window and the couch against the other wall, and finally the kitchen.
We sat down on the futon in my bedroom and chatted about our respective apartments. Jeffrey seemed troubled when I gave vague answers as to why I hadn't accumulated much in the way of material possessions. My answer that my parents and I weren't on good speaking terms mollified him a bit, but he still seemed to be worried about the secrets I held close to my chest. The conversation drifted somewhat, but some of his other questions also required necessarily vague answers.
He opened his mouth and seemed about to ask another question when the rattle of a key in a lock indicated Jonathan was home. I sprang off my futon, relieved to escape Jeffrey's well-intentioned but possibly dangerous line of questioning. As the apartment door swung open, I said, "Hi, Jonathan! Did you pick up the message I left you on the answering machine?"
He replied, "Yup. I sure did, and it's no problem for your friend to eat here as long as he appreciates my culinary skills." He mock-glared at Jeffrey, and his glance asked the question I was ready to answer.
"Jeffrey, this is my roommate and resident cook, Jonathan Walker. And Jonathan, Jeffrey Katzenberg. We met at the SFU group, 'Out on Campus'."
They shook hands, and then Jonathan showed me the telephone bill and said, "Jeffrey, would you excuse us just a minute? I need to talk to Daniel about roommate stuff. Bills, you know..." Jeffrey, although as confused as I was, nodded and said, "I'll just wait out here."
In Jonathan's room, I said, "If this is about that one call I tried to make to my parents--"
He cut me off and spoke in a low voice. "No, it's not that. I just needed an excuse. Look, you've never brought anybody over before. Is he all right?"
I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but I replied in an equally low voice, "He's just fine. He's a friend and we've gotten to know each other fairly well. He's not Joshua, you know, even if he is gay."
Jonathan sighed and looked me squarely in the eye. "Ok, Daniel. I trust you, but if he hurts you, I won't let him forget it."
"Thanks for looking out for me, but trust me, he's just fine."
We stepped out of the room and apologized for the delay. Jeffrey just shrugged that off and said, "Don't worry about it."
Jonathan then cleared his throat and asked Jeffrey what foods he liked, et cetera. They talked back and forth for a bit and I noticed that Jonathan seemed a little on edge, almost as though he were going through the motions of being a good host, when in reality he was acting almost as though he had had a girlfriend bring another guy over. Could Jonathan really have unrequited feelings for me? I supposed such a thing was not unheard of, but this could really screw things up with Jeffrey...
The question of whether anything had to be avoided in Jeffrey's food was settled - it turned out his diet was similar to almost any Canadian's standard intake; no allergies of any kind, and no aversion to any foods. Jonathan then mentioned he was starting dinner and that it would be about half an hour to an hour to finish cooking. With a flourish, he donned his apron, and started a beef stew with rice as a side dish.
=-=-=-=
Dinner was excellent, as usual. The slight undercurrent of tension I had detected between Jonathan and Jeffrey all but vanished as the conversation, while limited, meandered over nothing controversial. I had to chuckle inside when Jonathan tried to look modest as Jeffrey raved about the cooking, though. Apparently macaroni and cheese could get a little boring when living on one's own.
As the plates were cleaned up, Jeffrey noticed the time, and said, "I kind of hate to say this, guys, but... I've gotta get going. Homework and stuff." He grinned.
Jonathan said, "Ok. Glad you liked supper, though. See you later, then." He briefly shook hands with Jeffrey and got to cleaning the dishes.
I escorted Jeffrey to the door after waiting for him to get his shoes and coat on, and as my hand touched the handle, I felt Jeffrey's hand enclose mine. I looked up, startled, and I saw him blushing at the realization that he'd accidentally grabbed my hand in reaching for the door handle himself. I withdrew my hand, but not before savoring the warmth that emanated from his. I spoke quietly. "It was good having you here, and I promise to visit your apartment tomorrow, too."
Jeffrey nodded, pleased, and replied, "Will do. Want to get my address now or do you want me to escort you over from university?"
"I'll meet up with you at university and you can bring me over."
"Mm-hmm. Safe move. Wouldn't want me giving you a fake address and marooning you in the streets." He giggled at his own joke, but I didn't think it was that funny. He noticed, and gave me an apologetic look. "Look, Daniel... if I was out of line with that--"
I shook my head no. "I just didn't find it that funny, but now is not the time to explain why. I'll see you tomorrow by the bookstore, about.. um, three?"
"That works for me. Seeya!"
I grabbed the door as he opened it. I lamely said, "Wait - do you know how to get back from here?"
"Don't worry. I'll be fine." Jeffrey smiled, then reached out and touched my elbow. I felt a strange tingle go up and down my spine.
I released the door, and stepped back to allow Jeffrey to exit the apartment. I then closed and locked the door, and reentered the kitchen to find Jonathan staring into space. I cleared my throat, and he looked at me, momentarily surprised. He said, "Oops. Um, how long have I been standing there looking like a statue?"
"Not that long, I don't think. Are you Ok?"
Jonathan nodded. "I'm fine, really." He still looked kind of out of it, though.
I shrugged and went into my bedroom, preparing to turn in for the night.
=======
That ends part 4.