Another breakfast with Joel, at a new place this time. In the wee early-morning hours before I started work so I had time to make butternauts up and down my plate, an army called to order, marching to the beats of my drummer. My drummer was Cole. He's gone now, he's in hell where he belongs. Someday Caleb's going to join him there. I won't be going there though, my crimes are so small you can hold them in one hand, and are thoroughly forgivable if you only knew me.
All of me, I mean.
Joel wants to. I see him angling from a thousand yards, talking up a storm from way back there, making sure everything is 'on the table' and that we're being 'completely honest with each other' as he attempts to rearrange my brain a little more permanently than Sam can. Joel is both a blessing and a curse as he has so much skill as a psychoanalyst but so little skill as a professional. I could have enjoyed the sexual tension with him for the rest of my life but he fucked up so hard. I wasn't in a place to choose him when I came home from the hospital way back when so he chose for me and that was a really dumb idea that ended his career and most of the trust he had built over the course of it.
But he became (or remains?) a friend and he still has years and years of education and training over the rest, and so sometimes I trust him, and sometimes (like today) I see his curiosity and I burn it to the ground.
He wants to know where Dalton stands. Dalton, my under-the-radar flyer, my Casey Affleck lookalike, my sweet sweet hippie friend. Teflon Jesus. TJ. Duncan's brother and the heartbreaker of the west coast all the way from Brevig to Baja.
I don't think you want to hear about him.
You alluded to something in your writings but never quantified it.
Right.
Why is that?
Privacy? I don't know. I got busy. Not every encounter I have gets catalogued.
Some do. Repeatedly.
I lean forward. And a lot never get mentioned at all.
So what happened with Dalton?
Joel's curiosity is a hole he's about to fall into. I have a gift for making people feel welcomed, feel loved but at the same time I can make you feel so uncomfortable you'll spontaneously self-immolate.
I took a breath and told him in great detail. Detail so complicated and elaborate Joel put his cup down and never picked it up again. I told him about how Lochlan, Dalton and I were sprawled out on the sectional in the theatre room watching something and at some point I drifted off to sleep (as I do) and I woke up to Dalton sliding my pajama pants down off my hips, putting his head down against my thighs, pinning me there happily, sleepily until sleep became the last thing on my mind. He wound me out so hard I couldn't breathe and then (and only then) did he look at Lochlan for permission. Then he took us both by the hand down the hall to his room. We stayed the night, in which he continued whatever mission he had to make sure that I wasn't left wanting for anything, fulfilled ten times over and very graphically now relayed to Joel who is sinking into his collar, wishing he hadn't asked, titillating curiosity having now given way to graphic shock.
I kept talking. The servers stopped coming over. I had to go and find someone so we could pay the bill. And then finally we're in Joel's car.
Anything else you want to know?
Joel just shook his head numbly. Pretty sure there's nothing left to say even if he hadn't asked. What's your end game now?
Same as always. Soothing the savage beast that lives inside my skull with almost zero healthy skill in knowing exactly how to do it.
Is it working? He breathes.
Of course not.
But you stop sometimes.
Love is distracting-
Ah, good-
So is war, Joel. We pulls up beside my restaurant and I get out. Thanks for breakfast.
All of me, I mean.
Joel wants to. I see him angling from a thousand yards, talking up a storm from way back there, making sure everything is 'on the table' and that we're being 'completely honest with each other' as he attempts to rearrange my brain a little more permanently than Sam can. Joel is both a blessing and a curse as he has so much skill as a psychoanalyst but so little skill as a professional. I could have enjoyed the sexual tension with him for the rest of my life but he fucked up so hard. I wasn't in a place to choose him when I came home from the hospital way back when so he chose for me and that was a really dumb idea that ended his career and most of the trust he had built over the course of it.
But he became (or remains?) a friend and he still has years and years of education and training over the rest, and so sometimes I trust him, and sometimes (like today) I see his curiosity and I burn it to the ground.
He wants to know where Dalton stands. Dalton, my under-the-radar flyer, my Casey Affleck lookalike, my sweet sweet hippie friend. Teflon Jesus. TJ. Duncan's brother and the heartbreaker of the west coast all the way from Brevig to Baja.
I don't think you want to hear about him.
You alluded to something in your writings but never quantified it.
Right.
Why is that?
Privacy? I don't know. I got busy. Not every encounter I have gets catalogued.
Some do. Repeatedly.
I lean forward. And a lot never get mentioned at all.
So what happened with Dalton?
Joel's curiosity is a hole he's about to fall into. I have a gift for making people feel welcomed, feel loved but at the same time I can make you feel so uncomfortable you'll spontaneously self-immolate.
I took a breath and told him in great detail. Detail so complicated and elaborate Joel put his cup down and never picked it up again. I told him about how Lochlan, Dalton and I were sprawled out on the sectional in the theatre room watching something and at some point I drifted off to sleep (as I do) and I woke up to Dalton sliding my pajama pants down off my hips, putting his head down against my thighs, pinning me there happily, sleepily until sleep became the last thing on my mind. He wound me out so hard I couldn't breathe and then (and only then) did he look at Lochlan for permission. Then he took us both by the hand down the hall to his room. We stayed the night, in which he continued whatever mission he had to make sure that I wasn't left wanting for anything, fulfilled ten times over and very graphically now relayed to Joel who is sinking into his collar, wishing he hadn't asked, titillating curiosity having now given way to graphic shock.
I kept talking. The servers stopped coming over. I had to go and find someone so we could pay the bill. And then finally we're in Joel's car.
Anything else you want to know?
Joel just shook his head numbly. Pretty sure there's nothing left to say even if he hadn't asked. What's your end game now?
Same as always. Soothing the savage beast that lives inside my skull with almost zero healthy skill in knowing exactly how to do it.
Is it working? He breathes.
Of course not.
But you stop sometimes.
Love is distracting-
Ah, good-
So is war, Joel. We pulls up beside my restaurant and I get out. Thanks for breakfast.