Confounded: Part III - 4. Chapter 3

--==Mitchell’s POV==--

Tom dug into his meal with relish, savoring the salmon.

“This is very good,” he commented, taking a sip from his wine, “great choice.”

“Thank you. Glad you like it.”

“Still collecting fine wine?” he inquired, nodding to his glass.
Confirming that with a nod of my own, I also noticed that he alternated between the wine and water. Responsible drinker?

“Yes.”

“Still a wannabe connoisseur, huh? That drove Taylan up the wall, I remember.”
People always seemed to go out of their way to not mention Tay, recall little anecdotes or quirks. I was glad that Tom didn’t feel hampered by that, at all.
“He always thought I was being fussy,” I smiled.

“You were. I remember, when it came to dinner, you always liked it ‘just so’.”

“I do, yes. Things need to be right.”

“Anal.”

“Be quiet. Eat your food,” I grumbled good-naturedly, refilling his glass and mine.

“Yes sir.”
But the glint in his eye told me what he thought of my ways and I liked that he didn't hide it.
“So tell me about you. So far, I’ve been the one doing the talking.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Well, for one; what’s going on here?” he asked, circling his mouth, then pointing at me. “What’s with the face fuzz? Got tired of shaving?”
I lightly stroked my chin.

“You don’t like it?”
He made a funny face.

“Meh. Makes you look old.” Just what a man loves to hear. “Tilt your head, please?”
It was an odd request but sure, so I did. “Now say something?”

Confused, I frowned. “Say what?”

“Yup. Looks like a talking twat.” His tone was ultra-dry and he laughed out loud at my shocked expression. Crass! “Oh, come on. It was funny.” Reaching over, he pushed his finger at the corner of my mouth, cooing as if talking to a baby, “that was funny! Yes it was. C’mon, you can do it. Give Tom a little smile.”

“No it was not,” I said, moving out of reach but unable to keep a smile from forming. “And I like it. So does Kit.”
Tom rolled his eyes at that one.

“Kit likes it because Mischa also has face pants. You’re like that family at a supermarket with matching tracksuits. He’d also like it if Mischa wore a tutu and did naked star jumps singing whoop-t-doo.”

“Now there’s a visual,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, I wish I hadn’t said that,” he snickered, “that’ll stick for a bit.”
It was true that Kit was prejudiced when it came to all things Mischa. The man could do no wrong.

“You think that’s the only reason he likes it? Because Mischa has it?”
Tom nodded.

“Oh yes, definitely. Sorry Mitch; the pimp look just doesn’t suit you.”
God…

“Pimp look?” I echoed.

“Put on a Hawaiian shirt and you’re there. But hey, that’s my opinion. If you like it, who am I to pass judgment?”
There was a hint of humor there but the underlying tone was clear; he didn’t like it.

“Makes me look old, huh?” I said, considering his words, frowning.
Did it?

“Let me put it this way: if you pulled that crap on me, growing that thing while I was your boyfriend, you’d be experiencing a bad case of the blue balls for as long as it was on your face.”
He shuddered with dramatic flair, making me smile.

“Quite the incentive…”

“And speaking of Kit; why is my ex trying to set me up with his dad?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” I answered.

“No, I mean I get why he chose me; obviously, I’m fun, that one's easy. But you…”
There was that glint again.

“Oh, thanks,” I laughed. “Jerk.” Taking a bite from the salmon, which was really good, I decided that telling the truth would be best. “According to him, I’m stuck. Not really living, just… existing.”

Tom’s features sobered somewhat and looked thoughtfully at me.

“And is he right about that?”
The way he asked felt different. No judgment or assumption that I was or wasn’t.

“I just…”
I fell silent, not really finding the words that would fit. It was confronting; I didn’t expect it.

“Alright, let me ask this, then; how many guys have you dated since Tay died?”

I coughed, a little uncomfortable. “I haven’t…”
His eyes widened a fraction.

“No one?”

“None. I’ve not gone on dates. Taylan said he didn’t want me to remain alone. Made me promise to find someone and…but I…”
Tom huffed.

“Leave it to the dying to push an impossible request on you; you can’t refuse.” I couldn’t believe his perceptiveness. Wow. Just wow. He got it. “Taylan was one of a kind and I miss that fuckface, but he had no right saddling you with such a request. You deal with it in your own time.”
I smiled when he referred to Taylan as such. There was no animosity, just affection.

“I think Kit assumes time heals all wounds,” I said a little sourly, which caused Tom to make a dismissive gesture with his fork.

“Kit hasn’t dealt with such a loss; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Losing a soulmate...that does something to your psyche. I’d never wish it upon him, either.”
I remembered then that Tom actually did know. He knew exactly what it was like. His first boyfriend had died, quite violently at that. I couldn’t recall his name…

“Do you still visit his grave?”

“Sandro’s? No. Taylan forced me to say goodbye. And he was right, back then. Sandro is right here,” Tom replied, pointing at his chest and then tapping his temple, “I remember him but if you were to ask me to draw his face, I couldn’t. Hard to explain; I’ve not forgotten him, but he’s not with me every day. When Kit and I happened, that faded quickly. He didn’t replace him but, I dunno...Sandro went into the background. And I’m happy with him being there, just like others that came and went.”

I smiled; that was recognizable to me. “I don’t think about Taylan every day either. Not anymore. I used to but like you said; that faded. Every now and then, he pops up in my head and that’s nice; nothing but good memories.”

Which was true. About two years after he died, I suddenly found myself voicing something to Mischa and the melancholy that had always come when I thought or quoted something Tay had said, didn’t come. I also couldn’t visit a grave; he’d wanted to be cremated, the ashes scattered. He hated burials, believing no one could really let go then because there was a place to return to and he hadn’t wanted his ashes put in a memory wall either.

“Well, that’s good. Like Celine says; your heart will go on. And Christ, do I hate that fuckin’ song.”
He chuckled. “Time is all it takes. Hey, you wanna know what I miss the most?”
Curious, I waited.
“When it’s over? And that could be after they die, or when the relationship just ends…”

“What…”
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. Unconsciously, I leaned in as well, like we were conspiring something.

“Getting my brains fucked out.”
Shocked, I jerked back.

“What is wrong with you?” I groaned but began to softly laugh, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

“I know, right? I’m going straight to hell but I’m always so friggin’ horny after it’s over!”
He sat back and sighed.
“Maybe it’s because you suddenly don’t have it on tap anymore. You know; coming home, he’s there and you just wanna jump his bones. And you can ‘cause he’s there, like a sex-ATM; just swipe and go to town.”

And I just roared.

**********

Tears were welling up in my eyes as I laughed so hard, I had to put down my glass.
Tom began to chuckle as well.

“Sorry. Had to say that. It was getting a bit too heavy there. You alright?”

“I’m good,” I hiccupped, wiping my eyes. “That was perfect, absolutely perfect. Crude and inappropriate but perfect.”

“We’re getting looks,” he sniggered.

“I really don’t care. You are a bad man. Bad.”
I got a wink for that and then I noticed that he was busy on his phone.

“I know but so worth it. Look.”
The hiccups subsided as he held out his phone to me. A picture showed of me, in the midst of laughter.
“Would you mind if I send it to Kit?”

“Hah! No, I don’t mind. It’s a good picture.”
He pressed a few buttons and put his phone away again.
“At least he’ll know we’re having a good time.”

“It will drive him nuts, trust me. He’ll want to know everything and I wanna mess with him a bit.”
Right on cue, the buzzing sound of his phone came.
“Told ya.”

“What’s he saying?”

“No idea, nor do I particularly care. I made the picture because you looked so utterly free and relaxed; kinda had to but in general, I don’t like phones at dinner. It’s rude and I can be that, all on my lonesome. I don’t need a phone for that.”
He certainly didn’t!

“I agree! God, finally; someone who agrees with me! When I’m at Kit and Mischa’s, half the dinner is interrupted. Kit is glued to that thing. I hold my tongue but boy, do I want to say something, sometimes.”
To be fair, Mischa had said something about it, not all that long ago. They now had the rule that whenever there was family time, no phones were allowed. If there really was an emergency, they could call on the landline.

“Right? There you are, having a nice conversation and suddenly you’re stuck in a Youtube or TikTok loop, because they think of a funny video, and then another, and another.”
I chuckled, continuing to eat.

**********

Dinner was delicious and the conversation so very engaging; I really was enjoying myself. Enjoying it a hell of a lot! I hadn’t been in the company of someone this open, honest and relaxed as Tom in a long time. Stealing a glance, I saw he was tucking it in as well, clearly savoring it.

“This turned out to be not so bad after all,” I commented. “I feared stunted conversation and forced silences tonight.”
Chuckling, he speared his last piece of salmon on his fork.

“As dates go, this one isn’t so bad.”

“You date a lot?”
He shook his head.

“No. I don’t mind dating, I’ll go on one occasionally but I’m a great believer in fate. It will happen when it’s meant to happen. Don’t force it; that never works.”
He glanced up.
“Sorry. Another thing you can’t do on dates; speak your mind and speak the truth. You gotta be nice, lie, be on your best behavior; in other words not be 100 percent yourself, for fear of pissing him off. So fucking what, I like pissing people off; their true self comes out.”
I chuckled. For some reason I appreciated that he was so unfiltered. Normally, I don’t like it all that much, the frequent cussing or use of crass language but with Tom, it just didn’t grate.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Right? Horrible concept actually, dating. Why go through that whole rollercoaster and have it blow up in your face after a few dates with nothing to show for it but blue balls and being out of pocket for new clothes and expensive restaurants. Ridiculous.”
I simply guffawed at that.

“And yet here you are. Dating.”
He grinned.

“Yeah, well, like I said; he made you sound like Superman. Sounded like someone I might want to get to know better.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want to get to know me?”
He rolled his eyes and I winked at him. This was really fun, jibing back and forth.
“I’m hurt.”

“You are not. Besides, I already know you so this doesn’t count as a date.”

"Ha! You think you know me, but you don’t. You know of me but we’ve never spent time alone like we are now. Nor do I know you. If anything, we’re reconnecting. So yes, this is a date, like it or not.”
He stilled and frowned, giving that some thought as he finished his plate.

“Alright, I guess that’s true. I just never saw you in a romantic way before…”

“Are you saying you do now?”
He glanced up, his fork halting halfway to his mouth.

“Careful, Mitch...I just might.” He took the last bite of his meal and kept eye contact. Then he winked. “Like you said; we are on a date after all.”

And that’s when it felt like the ‘continue’ button on my life was pressed. I suddenly felt warm and my heart began to thud, my stomach behaving funny. I smiled, to cover the onrush of feelings that flooded in.

“You’re a flirt.”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, that glint in his eyes again. “It’s fun! Finding out stuff about the other guy, what makes him tick. It's exciting, the not knowing how it turns out. Well, I know how this turns out but still…”

“Oh? And how does this turn out?”

“With me having blue balls,” he winked, “I’ll end up swiping on Grindr, tonight.”
I huffed at that.

“I’ve never understood that. The ‘hook up’ thing. How do you ever gain something meaningful from that?”
He shrugged.

“You don't? It’s just sex, scratching an itch. Not hard to understand. Goes with the ‘order-mentality’ we live in these days. Everything is available, sex included.”

“You use that?”
He gave me a look that said ‘are you nuts?’.

“No, thanks. One-night stands have happened, I won’t deny that as I’m sure you’ve had them because hello? Male? We’re a bunch of horndogs! Sometimes, your judgment is clouded by the mind in your pants, usually with the help of alcohol or drugs. I don’t do the latter, I’ll admit to the former, as well as acting on it. I have and I’m not proud of it, though I did have great fun at the time. But you’re right; it’s empty. In general, I prefer to get to know someone before I sleep with em. I need a little more than just a handsome face.”

”Well I’m glad to hear that,” I responded, finishing up my meal as well, “and yes, I’ve had one-night stands. Pre-Taylan, all of them. Some with the best intentions, but then absolutely no other click afterwards.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, “when it feels there might be something more, right? Yeah, then I’ll go there; you kinda wanna find out if there’s more than just lust. Sometimes you just know and that feels different. You realize he, or you, are not gonna do a runner in the morning. You wanna know more, know him. Once I feel that, I’ll go on that rollercoaster and see where it ends and I don't care if it’s the first date or the fifth. You take a chance. You gotta or you’ll get nowhere and I’m not ready for nowhere just yet.”

I was curious. “So how did you meet your exes?”
He tutted chidingly.

“Ooh, we're at the exes topic already? I usually don’t discuss those until the third date.”
I chuckled when he winked.
“Well, let’s see. Hmm, about a year after Kit and I went Splitsville, I met Barry at a BBQ through mutual friends. Had far too much to drink, one thing led to another…” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we just discussed that very topic. It lasted for a bit shy of a year. Then mostly a dry spell for about two years, a couple of one night stands because, duh, horndog. And then I met Alex. Lawyer, very suave. We were together for over two years before he traded me in for a younger guy.”

“Younger?” I echoed, keeping count; Tom couldn’t have been older than 25, maybe barely 26. “I’m sorry; but how old is Alex?”

“Now? He just turned 61, last month.”
More than double Tom’s age…

“And Barry?”

“56 when I met him so... 64 now.” I stared at him and Tom calmly blinked before I caught myself doing so.

“W–why?”
I heard myself say the words and struggled a bit with the next.
“I don’t understand…”
I really didn’t. He could have anyone. Literally anyone. Have his pick, if he wanted to. The only downside, if any, might be that unfiltered sailor’s mouth on him.

“It’s not for you to understand. That’s for me,” he responded. “I find the attraction in a combination of things; emotional maturity, stability, security. But as with all attraction, I’m as shallow as everybody else so yes, also physical attraction.” When I raised my eyebrow, he explained further. “To me, there’s something infinitely attractive in mature men. With age comes sex-appeal. It’s a magnet for me, I hone in on that. And mature men are just way better in bed. They’re less selfish and know how to play instead of recreating a porn vid. They take their time for you. No rush. If anything, it usually bothers other people. It’s funny; he always gets the dirty looks, while I get away with it, scot-free.”

“Your parents?” I guessed, but to my surprise, he shook his head.

“Nope, they’ve always been supportive, Dad especially. Well, not with Sandro but those were different circumstances. Bad boy biker, I was way too young, that stuff. At the time, I didn’t get that he was just looking out for me.”
I could certainly understand Roman’s position. If Kit had come home with a far older guy while still in school, I’d have had issues with it too. I’d have changed schools for him, at the very least. Heck, I’d have sent him far away. Alpha Centauri or something.
“For some reason, Dad got along better with Barry than he ever did with Kit. He could talk to him whereas with Kit, he could never really have a long conversation. They got along fine, sure, but I’ve gone to bed plenty of times while he and Barry sat up for hours and hours.” Tom grinned. “The biggest compliment Dad ever gave me was telling me I was the best version of myself, with him.”

“Wow, that is a compliment if I ever heard one.”
Roman was not easily impressed, I remembered.

“Yeah…” Tom replied, his voice trailing, “when that relationship ended, I think it affected him more than me and no, I’m not being funny. He still keeps in contact with him, or tries to. It’s not easy, keeping track of Barry.”

“How so?”

“Ah, Barry is a…I guess you could call him a free spirit? He travels all over the US in a camper, staying here and there. If he needs money or the van breaks down, he’ll work to get it fixed, then he’s off again. Sometimes he sticks around for a long while, because he meets someone, like with me but eventually he gets restless, feels the need to move on. And then he just goes.”
A fond smile appeared on his face.
“He was a lot of fun. His look on life is unique and a little nuts and I wish I was more like him but I could never be that…ungrounded? I know I need roots, a place to return to but Barry needs to fly.”

There was no ill will or dislike in his description of his ex. I could tell he really had loved him and probably still did.

“And Alex?”

“Oh, total opposite. Brainy, very smart; bit boring, some would say. Stable, rich, romantic and just the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s a weird combo of corporate shark lawyer and the settling down type. Movie night, date night, things planned well in advance. The dream of many, you could say. Certainly was mine, at the time. Even made plans to marry.”

“Wow, so what happened?”

“My career took off in Europe. Writing two consecutive hits kind of makes you in demand. Suddenly they want a whole album, have you go on tour, do guest appearances. I began to travel a lot when I got those hits. And I mean a lot. Living out of a suitcase most of the time. And at first he was okay with that and happy for me, that I had gained that level of success. But then he began demanding more ‘us’ time which, I have to admit, was his right. But it was time I just didn’t have. So after the umpteenth time I bailed on movie night, date night what-have-you, stuck in Finland or wherever, he started looking elsewhere for…company. One morning, I came home very early, unexpectedly, and found him in bed with the son of his partner. I think the guy was like 19?”

“Ouch,” I said, sympathetic.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly, “that hurt because I really did love him. More than Barry. Way more.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you think; I kicked that kid out of our bed, down the stairs stark naked and out the door. I then had a screaming match with Alex for about, oh…half a day? I think I had just about every emotion in existence during that fight. I was angry, hurt, sad. I pleaded, begged; you name it, I did it. It came down to his need to have a partner that was there, someone he could count on and he couldn’t count on me. He threw in my face that my career was more important than him, and he was right; I had lost sight of us, let things slip because of my career and missed the signals. That it was my fault. Denied that of course.”

“Of course.”
He sent me a sour look.

“Hey, I was hurt, alright? Shut up. That took me six months of therapy, to admit that. You don’t get to agree in six seconds.”
I chuckled as he sighed deeply, continuing.
“Anyway, I wanted to try and fix things, even offered counseling but he didn’t want to; it was too little, too late. And since I had already packed bags, he pretty much told me to take em and not let the door hit me on my ass. Oh, fun fact; last I heard, him and that…boy; still together. To this day. Even a surrogate carrying a child. Probably Rob’s. The boy.”

“Ouch again. Insult to injury, huh?”

“Yeah. I wish I could say I wrote a hit song because of it and got it out of my system, but that one lingered for a long, long time and all I wrote was crap. It caused me to reexamine my life and I didn’t like what I saw I had become. A sellout to success. Let myself be pushed around by others.”
He visibly shuddered.
“I went down to the bare basics and disappeared for a while. Examine what I wanted to do and how should I go about it?”

“And…?”

“And the answer was simple: go back to where I came from and start again. I had a good talk with John, then he wrote a hit song and sold it for a mint, damn that fucker; I still can’t listen to that odious piece of trash. And I returned to the homestead.”
He smiled.
“Best thing I ever did. Bowed out of my contract, which was a crap deal to begin with, and cost me a bundle to get out of, went home to nothing else but mom’s cooking, dad’s kinda boring routine, reconnecting with old friends, lazy days of sleeping in late, going to bed early and writing my ass off; I even patched things up with Jay. Then John came out here, had the idea in his head to start our own record label and release stuff through it. Even offered to manage me. It was such an obvious choice to accept, I did right then and there. Never looked back.”

I feigned clapping and he bowed.

“Thank you. That was about…two years ago? Released an album, which climbed the charts, hit the festival circuit, traveled a lot between recording and writing, then moved back here permanently earlier this year. Been working on a new album, doing promotional stuff, yada yada. Any foreign stuff I still do, which is maybe once or twice a month; then I’m over there for a week or so.”

“So you’re living at your parents’?”
That would be a long trip for him, tonight.

“Oh god, no. I’m actually house-sitting in Venice. Owner is a friend who is not using it. I was using it on and off for years when I started coming back regularly.”
Venice wasn’t too far, that was about 45 minutes from here.

“Ocean view?”

“Of course. Wake up with the sound of waves crashing on the beach.”
Very nice.
“I’m looking around to get a place of my own but no rush.”

“Out there? Oof, that’s going to be very expensive.”
He agreed and shook his head.

“No, that’s not gonna happen. I do okay but not that kind of money,” he chuckled and I raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you had several hits?”

“Hah! Well, yes, that’s true but I’m nowhere near the Rolling Stones or Madonna millions. No arena or stadium performances either. I’d shit my pants.”

“What’s the biggest audience you've ever performed for?”

“About twenty five thousand? The bigger festivals. I usually play venues that can accommodate a few hundred to maybe…2.500, 3.000 tops? Few hundred is more fun, more intimate. Honestly, I make more than is good for any person to make. I could quit now and live happily on what I made so far. Well…” he made a face, “if I began wearing jeans, maybe, but Kit ruined those for me with his damn clothes fetish. That totally rubbed off on me. You should see my monthly clothing bills.”
I sniggered at that. My son certainly liked his fashion. That had been all Taylan.
“So nope, no retirement for me yet.”

“You still have a few years,” I laughed.
He raised his glass and we toasted to that.

“Actually, I’d love to live in the mountains. Log cabin. Small, comfy. Heated only by a fireplace. Get snowed in, and unable to leave for weeks. All you have is each other. Oh lordy, whatever would I do.” He feigned deep thought, then winked. “Clothes optional.”
There was that flirting again.

“Someone is a romantic.”
He had no problem admitting that.

“Yes. I absolutely am. Don’t get me wrong, I love the city. Bustling excitement and all that. But to live? Yeah, mountains. A friend of mine lives in Colorado, he and his husband have a place in Aspen. Stayed there for a few weeks; I didn’t wanna leave.”

“What’s stopping you? And there’s nothing wrong with being a romantic; go for it! But you’ll admit that compared to the guy you were when you were at 18, it’s a 180 degree turn. For the better, I might add.”
He reached over and put his hand on mine for a second.

“Aww, thanks. That’s sweet of you to say.”
I meant it, too. From what I was seeing, he’d become a fine young man.
“And nothing is stopping me, actually. I'm definitely considering it. I have a friend looking out for me, she’s a realtor. Already sent me a few listings up in Big Bear Lake which I liked. By the end of the year, I’m hoping to have found something.”

He seemed excited by the prospect and I smiled. He knew what he wanted. Big Bear Lake was on the other side of San Bernardino; I’d been there a few times with Kit when he was younger, learning to ski. It wasn't too far, about a two and a half hours drive.
Mischa’s family had a chalet in Aspen as well, they went every year. I’d been there a few times.

“Alright, now you. Nice distraction but I’m onto you, Mister. Again we’ve been yappin’ about me. We’re definitely switching to you. So what’s this about you not dating?”
I groaned softly. I had hoped we’d moved on from that. He noticed that, huh?
“Nuh-uh, it’s only fair. I told you my shit, now you tell me yours. What gives?”

“I just didn’t want to. Even tonight I didn’t want to but Kit basically twisted my arm. But now I’m kind of glad that he did. I forgot what it was like to have a good time with someone else.”
I received a small squeeze in my hand for that.

“Likewise. And I understand. Well, somewhat. Not all of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Three years, man…no dates, no porn. You must be so bowlegged by now, you wouldn’t stop a bull in an alley.”
I almost spit out some water. Wiping my mouth I slapped his hand.

“Tomás!”

“Sorry,” he snickered. “Fine, no jokes. So does this mean you’re gonna try it out? Dating, I mean? You wanna do it again?”
I wasn’t sure if he was asking me on another date or if he meant in general.

“How? I don’t go to clubs, that’s not who I am. I rarely go to parties, and I don’t join groups…”

“You go to the store, right? Golf club? You travel, meet other people. No one ever gave you a second look? They must have…”
Not that I noticed.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echoed, “…ehr, you’re sexy? You never saw even one guy interested? Man, your gaydar must be turned off then. Start that sucker back up, you’ll have your pick. Just get rid of the face pants.”
He pushed his chair back and stood.
“Be right back; need to visit the little boys room.”

I followed him with my eyes as he walked away.

He thought I was sexy?