“I was on the hiring committee; I’ve seen your trajectory. It’s very impressive, Daniel. Really.”
I’m embarrassed, so I change the subject. We talk about the trip to New York that Jay’s just returned from. He’s trying to get an international Latino/Latina literature and theory conference started, which sounds great, and he was schmoozing with some folks he knows. We slip into the topic of other conferences and Jay realizes that he went to grad school with one of my professors, whom I’ll see at the conference in Detroit. I swear to god, the academic world is frighteningly small.
I’m just describing my conference paper to Jay when Rex walks in and comes over to our table.
“Hi,” I say. “Sorry, am I late?” I fumble for my phone to see the time, but it’s only 8:40.
“No,” Rex says. “I was early and I saw you guys, so I thought I’d come over. That okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Rex, this is Jay Santiago. Jay, Rex Vale.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jay says, standing to offer his hand, and he seems to wince the slightest bit at Rex’s handshake. Rex nods at him.
“You too.”
We’re all standing when the check comes, so I shrug on my jacket and grab my wallet.
“I’ve got it,” Jay says.
“No,” I say. “You were doing me a favor. I’ve got it, please.”
“No, no,” Jay says. “You’re the new hire; consider it a welcome to the department.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense,” Jay says. “I’ve got it.” And he hands the waiter his credit card without looking at the check.
“Wow, okay, well, thanks, Jay,” I say, feeling a little awkward. “I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure,” he says, pulling on a black wool overcoat and leather driving gloves.
We start to walk out, Rex keeping pace with me.
“Enjoy the conference,” Jay says. “Give Wendy my regards.”
“Will do,” I say.
“And the paper sounds wonderful, Daniel, really.” He claps me on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Nice to meet you,” he says again to Rex, and Rex nods.
INSIDE MY apartment, Rex pushes me against the door and kisses me aggressively. My head bangs against the wood and Rex pulls back, breathing heavily.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
Is he still pissed from last night? If it were Ginger I’d tease her. Say, “What, are you jealous?” But something tells me Rex wouldn’t appreciate that.
“Nothing,” he says. “Did you finish your paper?”
“I did, yeah. It all came together. You were right; it’s going to be fine.”
He smiles and looks a little sheepish.
“Listen,” he says. “I didn’t mean to be unfriendly. It was just harder than I thought to see you out with another guy.”
“Well, you weren’t so much unfriendly as you were totally menacing. And he’s not ‘another guy.’ He’s a colleague.” I pat his chest and walk to my closet, grabbing my duffel bag and starting to toss things into it.
“But he likes you,” Rex says, as if it’s a fact.
“I mean, as a friend, maybe,” I say. Wow, I guess he really is jealous. It’s not a great look on him.
“No,” Rex says. “More than a friend. I could tell by how he was looking at you.”
“And how was he looking at me?” I ask.
“Like… like he was… appreciating you,” Rex says, slowly, looking at the floor. I stop.
“I don’t even know if Jay’s gay,” I say. “I hope he isn’t, what with the easy rhyme and the cruelty of children.”
“He is,” Rex says.
“How do you know?”
“Um….”
“Oh my god, did you date him?” I ask. It would make sense. It’s not like there are that many gay guys around here. At the thought, my stomach goes all funny.
“What? No,” Rex says. “I just met him. But, when you first moved here, I overheard….”
“You overheard,” I encourage.
“Just some idiots talking about the town being overrun by gay snobs.”
I shake my head. I’m not that surprised.
“Anyway,” Rex continues, the set of his shoulders stiff, “we haven’t really talked about any of that. I mean, if you were to go out with him as more than friends, I… well, I guess that’d be your prerogative.”
“Well, I better get to be Bobby Brown and not Britney Spears,” I say, to cover the fact that my head is now spinning. He’s talking about us dating other people. How it’s okay if I date other people. Is that what he wants? Does that mean he’s dating other people? My stomach feels sour. The idea of Rex with someone else… it makes me feel sick, and… sad.
I walk into the bathroom, grabbing the jacket I hung on the shower door in the hopes of steaming the wrinkles out while I showered this morning. It looks passable.
Then there’s a crash from the kitchen.
Rex is kneeling next to what was—until, say, about ten seconds ago—my kitchen table.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he says, standing. “Shit, Daniel, I just leaned against the thing and it totally collapsed. Sorry,” he says. But he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds embarrassed, and maybe a little pissed.