Baggage Claim 2 - Part XXII

I nervously fumbled with my keys in the dimly lit hallway. Christ. Darren wanted coffee...the best known allegory for sex. So what did he really mean when he accepted? Hell, what did I really mean when I asked? I could feel him standing behind me, slightly to the left, probably laughing his cute little ass off over the fact that I couldn’t manage to open the fucking door.

“Dan?” His voice broke in and suddenly the key slammed home. I gave a triumphant cry and pushed the door open. I hoped I looked more confident than I felt. If I fucked this up, I’d still be stuck living with Darren for another week. If I was lucky, I could delude myself into thinking he would stay longer.

We drifted towards the kitchen, and I put the coffeemaker on. Decaf. I was already wired.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way.” Darren spoke calmly, and I hated him for it. Why wasn’t he as nervous as I was? Why wasn’t he tearing apart every detail, every syllable, like I was to him?

“No problem,” I finally said, toeing off my shoes with a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you get out of that shirt?” Darren asked.

It was a struggle to restrain the wash of heat that radiated from my every pore when he said that. I swallowed, turned to look at him, blinked twice before I found my voice. “Excuse me?”

He looked at me with an odd exasperated expression on his face. “You’ve been whining al night about how much you hate it, remember?”

A wave of shame and something akin to disappointment washed over me. “Right,” I muttered, and began unbuttoning the offending article of clothing. Darren tossed me a gray t-shirt that had been slung over a chair. “Good thing I wasn’t bitching about the pants,” I muttered, pulling off the dress shirt.

“Why, aren’t you wearing your Spiderman underoos?”

I felt entirely too naked as it was, pulling on the ancient cotton shirt. “Sorry, not tonight. They’re in the wash.”

Darren laughed comfortably and began taking off his shoes. Left foot, right foot, tuck the laces inside. I bit back my smile when he rose to put them behind the sofa, which was where they’d always resided when we were still living together.

“What are you smirking at?” he asked defensively.

“Shoes.”

He looked over his shoulder and frowned, confused. “Well, that’s where they go, isn’t it?”

So Darren was nervous too. I laughed and ruffled his hair, suddenly at ease. “Sure, Dar.” He scowled at me and ducked away from my hand, but the damage was done to his ‘do.

“Coffee’s ready.” I ducked off to fetch mugs and sugar and cream for the singer.

“You still drink it black?” he complained when I returned.

“And I still make it strong,” I countered, sliding a cracked mug across the table to him.

He held it up and displayed the chipped handle. “We’re millionaires, and you can’t even afford good coffee cups?”

“Of course I can,” I answered simply. “They’re all at the house.”

“The...house?” Darren echoed lamely.

I glanced at him, annoyed. “Yes, the house. You didn’t know I had a house?” He didn’t keep up in the newspapers enough to know that I had a real home. Great.

He gestured helplessly. “I thought, with all the instruments...”

“I’ve got them there, too. But this is where I stay when I’m writing.”

“Or drinking,” he deadpanned.

I nodded. “Someone’s been talking to Ben.”

“Who did you think paid his bail and his fines?”

To be honest, it hadn’t really occurred to me. It was somewhat touching, considering their animosity at the time. And especially considering the kind of person Ben used to be.

Darren’s chair scraped the floor as he stood. “Well,” he said. “Thanks again, for everything.”

I nodded, and gave him a reassuring smile.

I stayed in the kitchen for a long time after he left, watching the light reflect on the table. There was too much to think about, suddenly, too much to remember. I hadn’t been this restless in a long time.

I abandoned my coffee to go walk through the house, and found myself halted at the mouth of the hallway that led to my bedroom. The light that seeped from under the door was suddenly extinguished, and the image of a blissful Darren curled up in my bed flashed through my head.

My Darren sleeping in my bed.

I was suddenly quite painfully aware of the fact that my last sexual activities had been with Darren, in that bed.



continued in part twenty three...