His eyes moistened like wet towelettes as she rushed through
the gate, down the breezeway, and onto the great steel bird. His heart flipped in his throat, which
itself ached, like the rest of his body, which longed, nay yearned, for her
return. She was glorious; she was
gone.
The first time Tim saw June he was smitten. He was in line at Starbucks when he saw
her, the barista behind the counter.
The person in front of the women in front of him ordered one of those
absurd drinks everyone makes fun of: a half caf, triple sau cow, skim, mocha latte or some damn
thing. Tim immediately went about
hating the orderer of the drink, naturally, but was amazed when June tore into
the task of making it without hesitation. The sunlight streaked through the
window like a frat guy at a halftime show and made little angels appear in
June’s blonde hair as she worked. She breezed through the crazy lady’s drink,
made the woman in front of him her Christian latte and there he was…in the
front of the line, facing June and her hair angels.
She looked up at him and spoke, “Can I…uh, hi, can I, umm…”
she was speechless in front of him.
‘Twas love at first sight for her and love at first hearing for him, for
as soon as she spoke, Tim heard not her voice but a world-class choir singing a
beautiful song, and fell madly in love.
“You may,” Tim said in order to break the uncomfortable
silence.
“Oh, ha ha! I’m sorry!” June giggled.
“No problem. I
think you’re quite attractive.”
“Oh? Oh! That’s great! Would you like to get a soda
sometime? I hate coffee.” June asked.
“I imagine so. Yeah, uh, yes that would be great. When?” Tim
responded.
“How about now?
I hate this job anyway.” And June untied her apron giving Tim no way to
say no.
“Sure,” is what he said.
And so the pair of soon-to-be lovebirds headed off west,
into the sunset, towards the soda fountain. In so doing, Tim realized the symbolism of walking into the
sunset and understood that most of the time when people did that in books and
movies it was implied that they were going to spend the rest of their days
happily together; he hoped that would be the case with June and him.
The soda fountain was as busy as a bee in a bonnet so they
went to a water fountain instead.
Tim looked at June’s angel hair and listened to her world-class choir
voice and fell more and more in love.
He was never all that interested in sex but June was making his pants
tight.
“Are your pants tight or are you happy to see me?” June
asked, breaking him out of his deep thoughts.
“This is exactly the
kind of thing that normally embarrasses me,” Tim thought, “yet I am not now embarrassed at all! This is
the woman for me.”
“Not only am I happy to see you and your angel hair I’m
happy to hear you world-class choir voice. I’m not a big sex guy but I’d love to have intercourse with
you.”
June’s face blushed and her nipples poked through her shirt.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. You are as sweet as sweetened iced tea! Shall we blow this pop, or water as it
were, stand?”
“Yes!”
Because Tim was gay, his apartment was extremely clean and
organized. He could see that June
was impressed by his decorating style and wondered if the carpet matched the
drapes in her house. June took off
her clothes and for the second time in his life Tim questioned whether he
really was gay (the first being the time he’d had sex with a man and hated
every second of it.)
Their lovemaking was awkward and very sweaty. Before he’d even touched her girlie
bits, Tim regretted not taking off his sweater and wool socks but he couldn’t
think of a gentlemanly way of taking them off once the action started. But it ended satisfactorily for both of
them and, Tim reminded himself, that is what counts. Indeed, they gazed smilingly into each other’s eyes the rest
of the night.
The next few months swept by like dust on the Oklahoma
prairie. Tim lost himself in
June’s wrapping embrace. They went
to the zoo, to movies; they walked on the beach, on asphalt, on grass and
walking paths in parks; they fed ducks and other small animals at a farm where
dating couple do such things. And they tossed their heads back and laughed
through it all. However, there was
something happening underneath all the laughing, in the groin area, which was
not well.
Lovemaking had become a chore for Tim and he suspected it
was becoming something worse for June—a task, say. They would have fun all day but when they got home and
crawled into bed, for they were co-habitating now, there were no sparks. In
other words, when the time came, no one came.
“There is trouble in paradise,” Tim told a co-worker one
day.
“Another tsunami?
A hurricane?
Volcano?” Will replied.
“No, I mean between June and I,” Tim answered.
“Oh, right.
Because she’s a woman. I
mean, because she’s a woman?”
“Yeah, you can’t live with them and you can’t shoot them,
right?” Tim said absently.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, I love women. But… Never mind. What’s the trouble?”
“There’s no spark anymore. I’d even say I love her. But there’s no romantic spark. Last night I walked in on her changing. She was facing away from me and bending
over a little and something stirred in me. But then she turned around and it was gone.”
“I, uh, let’s see.
I don’t, I mean, have you ever, um, gone out with a man?”
“You think I’m gay?” Tim shouted, “I am not!”
“To be honest, I’m trying not to think anything. I just think we should consider all possibilities.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
After all possibilities had been explored, it became clear
that Tim was gay. He told June on
a Friday and she was gone on a Monday (not that first Monday but the one a week
and a few days later- it took her, like, 9 days to pack and make arrangements,
etc.) She got on that great steel bird and headed west, to California, West
Hollywood or San Francisco perhaps, to find herself a real man.
