Go Your Own Way - 1. Chapter 1

Go Your Own Way

Chapter 1

No one still writes letters. No one but my mother, that is. I guess it’s the former English teacher in her. Ever since childhood, if I was away from her for more than a few days, a letter would follow. Her letters have followed me to 4-H camp, the hospital, and to college. Hell, they have even followed me to the Middle East, South America, and the various other places I worked as a construction engineer for the U.S. Department of State.

Her latest letter had been waiting for me this afternoon when I got to my new apartment for the first time, having beat my own arrival.

Dear Joseph,

Just a quick note to say I’ve been thinking of you, and am overjoyed you’ve come home to Louisiana. I’m proud of you, and am glad you’ve had a chance to see the world, but I am so happy that you are back home safely and just a few hours away. I worried about you so.

Joseph, please think about coming home for Christmas. I know it will be difficult for you, and it’s selfish of me to ask, but I dream of having my family back together again for the holidays, especially since it’s your father’s 75th birthday this year. I am planning him a party he won’t forget, and relatives are coming from far and wide. Everyone would love to see you. I know it’s too early and too hot to be thinking of the holidays, but I wanted to give you time to think. Or brood. I know how my Byronic boy likes to mull over things.

It’s been 10 years; I know there is a lot to forgive, but I hope you can find that forgiveness in your heart. For your own sake. I know you write me (not as often as I’d like!) that you are fine, but I worry that you are too much alone.

Once you’re settled in, Dad and I plan on coming down for a long weekend. I don’t know if you remember my telling you, but we honeymooned there, and I have the fondest memories of New Orleans. We haven’t been back in years, and we’re looking forward to seeing it, and you, again. I know you’ll love living there.

Love, Mom

I was standing there rereading the letter and brooding over it (what can i say? Mom does know me), when the doorbell startled me. I only knew a handful of people in New Orleans, and none of them knew I had arrived. I walked over to the front door and peered through the glass.

A man stood on the front porch, a stranger. Late twenties, ginger hair, bearded. He was about 6 feet tall, not fat by any means, but a bit on the stocky side. He was carrying what looked like a casserole dish in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.

I opened the door. “Hello,” I said uncertainly. “Can I help you?”

A wide grin split his beard, “I’m here to help you. I’m Kelly, your next door neighbor.” He nodded toward his own apartment which shared a wall with mine. “I know how much moving in sucks, so I brought you some dinner, so you don’t have to worry about finding some, and beer to dull the pain of unpacking.”

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for the casserole. It smelled like heaven. I had noticed the aroma of Italian food wafting from the place next door, and had been on the verge of ordering pizza.

“It’s hot,” he said, pulling it back quickly. “I just took it out of the oven.” I hadn’t noticed the oven mitt on the hand holding it. “Just open your oven for me, I’ll put in there for you, and it will be there when you’re ready.’

“Sounds good,” I said, holding the door open for him, so he could pass through. I hurried ahead of him through the apartment to open the oven door.

“It’s lasagna,’ Kelly said. “I made it vegetarian just in case.” He straightened up from the oven and turned to me with a stricken look. “It’s not vegan though; is that okay? It has dairy. And it’s not gluten free.

He looked so worried, I had to laugh. “That’s all fine,” I assured him, “I eat dairy and gluten and meat, too.” I took the six pack from him and unhooked one of the cans from the plastic.

“And I definitely drink beer. Do you want one?” I asked before putting the rest in the fridge.

“Sure,” he smiled.

I handed him one, them spent a minute looking at the unfamiliar brand. “Tin Roof Blonde Ale,” I read aloud before taking a sip. “Hey, this is good.”

“It’s a Baton Rouge brewery.”

“I’m Joseph,” I said, offering Kelly my hand. “Or Joe. I hate being called Joey, though. And thanks for the food and the beer. That’s really nice of you.”

“Nice to meet you, Joseph, “ Kelly said. “And I’ll be sure to remember about the ‘Joey’ thing. No big deal about the lasagna….I like to cook, and I’m still not used to cooking for one, so I always make too much. Anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself, say welcome to the neighborhood and let you know that I’m next door if you need anything. I’ll leave you to your unpacking.”

As he said the last, he looked around and noticed the empty apartment was just that, almost completely empty. The only furniture was a card table and a couple of folding chairs I had picked up at a big box store on the way here from the airport. Other than that, the only thing in the apartment was my sleeping bag, a couple of pieces of luggage, and a box or two.

“Is the moving truck delayed or something?” he asked.

“Nope, except for a few boxes of stuff at my parents’ place, this is it.”

Kelly looked at me, an eyebrow cocked. “Going for minimalism? I can respect that.”

I don’t know why, but a brief bit of something….shame...embarrassment...sadness...at the emptiness of the apartment shot through me. During my youth, when I had dreamed about life as an adult, I had pictured the the usual: wife, kids, house, picket fence, dogs...the works. I had certainly never planned to turn 40 alone in a barren apartment.

Shaking off the feeling, I answered Kelly. “Well, I’ve been working overseas the past 12 years or so. I moved around a lot, so just didn’t accumulate much stuff; it just slows you down.”

“Makes sense. If you need some help getting the apartment together, let me know; that’s what I do.”

“Really? Are you a decorator?”

He laughed. “Yes. I did go to design school, but I never got my official interior design license. Anyway, my friend and I opened a home store on Carrollton Avenue. It’s not too far from here. It’s called Upcycle. Drop by some time. Our hours are…” his hazel eyes rolled upward as he searched for the right word, “....irregular, but one of us is usually there from 10 to 7 or so. And Dion, he’s my partner, makes excellent coffee. And he's addicted to it, so there's always a fresh pot.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll remember that.”

“See you later,” Kelly said with a small wave and walked toward the door.

As he headed out, something in me wanted him to stay. I had spent most of my non-working hours alone over the past decade, and I was okay with that. In fact, most of the time I preferred it that way. But tonight, in my new apartment, in my new city, I didn’t want solitude. I had planned to order in some takeout and eat it while I read a book as I usually did. But suddenly, I didn’t want another dinner alone, and something told me my nice, new neighbor was feeling lonely, too. I had moved to New Orleans to start over, and tonight seemed as good a time as any to try making friends.

So, I did something out of character; I decided to invite someone to eat dinner with me. “Kelly,” I said loudly.

“Yes?” he asked stopping and turning to face me.

“If you’re not doing anything, do you want to eat with me? After all you made it, so it seems a shame to not share it.

His smile was blinding in its warmth. “Are you sure? That would be cool. I’m sick of eating dinner alone.”

I casually noted that he was a very attractive, guy, especially when he smiled. He had thick, reddish hair shining with health that he had styled in a retro undercut His hair contrasted with his bright hazel eyes, thickly rimmed with dark lashes that matched his brows. A neatly trimmed beard, shorter than my own dark brown one, defined his strong jaw line. And his fitted plaid shirt showed off a body that, judging by the muscular forearms exposed by his rolled up sleeves, must be in pretty good shape. I’m not into dudes….not into relationships, period….but I’ve never been one of those straight guys who pretended they didn’t know that attractive guys were attractive.

After I assured Kelly that I did, indeed, want company, he ran back over to his place for plates, utensils, and napkins since I had none of those things. He had also brought over a wireless speaker, and soon we were listening to Sturgill Simpson, a neo-country artist that he earnestly explained was his favorite singer, and eating some of the best lasagna I had ever experienced.

My social skills are not the finest….some stereotypes about engineers are true, but luckily Kelly didn’t seem bothered by my lack of initiative when it came to conversation. He happily took charge of the conversation.

“So you’ve lived overseas?” he said. “Man, that sounds so cool. I am soooo jealous. I’ve never lived anywhere but Louisiana. I grew up in Shreveport, went to La. Tech, then moved here. I mean….I love New Orleans, but I always wanted to lived in Europe or Buenos Aires or somewhere exotic.”

“Hey, I went to Tech, too.”

“Small world. Don’t tell me you grew up in Shreveport, too.”

“No. Outside of Monroe. But I did live in Shreveport for a few years after graduation.”

“How did you go from living in Shreveport to world traveler?”

I paused for a minute before answering. This question was cutting close to topics I didn’t want to discuss, but were bound to come up. I might as well get used to it, and tell the truth. No need to get into pointless, now meaningless, details.

“I was offered a job with a defense contractor in Iraq; it was a 24 month contract and too lucrative to pass up," I said. “It was, honestly, a rough experience, and I was glad when it ended, but it….I don’t know...kicked off some wanderlust. I came home, expecting to settle back down in Shreveport, but I decided to go back out exploring. Luckily, I had made some contacts in the State Department while I was in Iraq and managed to land a job with them.”

Whew, I thought. I managed to tell the truth while avoiding talking about Cathy and why the financial rewards of the Iraq job had been so important to me at the time and why I had to get out of North Louisiana.

“Wow,” Kelly said admiringly. “That sounds so cool. So, I’m assuming you enjoyed working for the State Department since you did it for so long, so why did you move back to the States?”

“A couple of reasons. One big thing is that I miss my folks. I’ve seen them while I’ve been on breaks, and they’ve even traveled to see me. A couple of years ago after they retired, they spent the summer with me when I was working on a project in Croatia. But they’re getting older, and I don’t want to be half a world away if they need me. My brother,” my voice, damn it, broke a bit on the word, but Kelly didn’t seem to notice, “lives in Monroe close to them, but I wanted to at least be in the same states. Besides, I want to put down some roots again. What about your parents?”

Kelly’s big hazel eyes grew sad. “Mom died when I was a teenager, and Dad passed on last May.”

Shit, I thought. All I wanted was to get the focus off me, and I had to remind this dude he was an orphan. Looking at his downcast face, I felt like I had kicked a puppy or something. “I’m so sorry,” I lamely offered.

Thankfully, his face lightened. “Don’t be. I mean, I’m sad they’re gone, but I was lucky….I had great parents, and I had a great childhood. I’m not sure if my mom knew I was gay, but my dad did, and he didn’t care. Not every gay guy gets that lucky.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so went with saying nothing. That seemed to be the wrong choice, though, since Kelly asked in a concerned voice, “My being gay….that’s not a problem is it?”

I did know how to respond to that statement. “I’m like your dad on that. I don’t care. What you do in your bedroom is none of my business….as long as you’re not noisy enough to wake me up.”

He laughed. “No worries, there. Nothing is currently happening in my bedroom but sleeping.” Suddenly, he sighed. “That’s kind of why I’m in New Orleans. I broke up with my partner 6 months ago…..Dion has been wanting to open a store for a while, but didn’t want to do it all on his own, so he convinced me to move here from Ruston, be his business partner, and start over. It’s been a good decision, the store’s doing well, and overall I’m happy, but he keeps pressuring me to date, but I…..I just don’t want to. I’m not ready yet. But I do get sick of being alone.” Poor guy, he looked so sad, like he needed a hug or something.

“Hey, being alone is not that, bad. Look at the bright side…..” I paused thinking for a minute….”You can eat whatever you want for dinner. None of that….what do you want to eat…..No, what do YOU want to eat…..you can hog the whole bed and all the covers and all the pillows….you can use all the hot water when you shower…..you can eat crackers in bed at 2 am while you watch a horror movie without someone nagging at you. When you’re alone….the world can be your oyster.”

He was smiling again. I felt warmth in my chest. Sometimes, no matter how old I get or how much I experience or how many professional accolades I achieve, I feel like that teenage social misfit I used to be.. But his smile….I don’t know….it made feel like …..I can’t describe it….All I knew was that .watching Kelly smile made me feel good and I wanted to make sure he kept smiling.

“Let me guess,” I went on. “Dion is married or at least in a long term relationship, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Because people in a relationships always want to hook other people up. They act like being paired up is the only way to live; the only way to be happy. I mean, it’s nice if it works for them, but people can be happy alone. I honestly think that. A long time ago, I decided relationships weren’t for me and decided to go my own way. I can’t say I’m regret free, but all in all I’m happy with the decisions I’ve made.”

I lifted my beer, “Here’s to going your own way.”

Kelly’s twinkling hazel eyes met my dark brown ones as he clinked his own beer against mine. “To going your own way.