I'm Not Your Mentor - 12. Chapter 12: Who is he?

12. Anyone can be a mentor

Everyone has a story to tell; everyone can offer a perspective.

— Employee Handbook: Mentoring

I watched Jonah walking toward the door and desperately tried to figure out what to do.

“Stay, Jonah, please,” I said, making a decision. Jonah paused and turned back to face me. I gave him a reassuring look, but he still seemed unsure of what to do. I guess that made two of us.

“Do you two work together?” Andrea asked brightly, clearly unaware of the tension beneath the surface. Or maybe she was ignoring it.

“Yes,” said Jonah, at the same time as I said, “not really.”

Andrea looked puzzled.

“We work at the same company,” I clarified, “but we don’t work together.”

“Ahh,” said Andrea. I knew she must be confused, and I knew I had to tell her the truth.

“Jonah’s my boyfriend,” I said, feeling a little awkward as I said it, though I think my voice sounded almost normal. That was something to be grateful for.

“Oh,” said Andrea, clearly startled.

Jonah gave me a ‘why did you do that’ look, but I just smiled.

“You want to get the cabbage out of the fridge?” I asked him.

Jonah was still undecided, and for a moment, I thought he was actually going to leave. But then he half-shrugged and went and got the cabbage out of the fridge. I imagined that he would tell me what an idiot I was later.

“We’ll need the mayonnaise and white vinegar and some carrots,” I added to Jonah, figuring I’d keep him busy while I tried to distract my sister. I wasn’t sure it would work, but that was the plan. I turned back to my sister. “We’re having salmon, home-baked fries, and coleslaw,” I said to Andrea. “Take a seat,” and I pointed to a stool at the island while I went over to give Jonah a quick hug.

“Do you have enough?” Andrea asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Jonah made a huge number of fries, and there’s plenty of salmon. So as long as we make extra coleslaw, we should be fine. So how is your friend doing?” I asked, turning back to Andrea. If I peppered her with questions, I just might get through this.

Dinner was possibly the most awkward meal I’ve ever sat through. Jonah was practically mute, and Andrea and I seemed to have no idea what to talk about. We spent the entire time making very intense small talk. I kept asking Andrea about her kids and what they were up to, and what she was doing, and she kept asking about work and where I got different things in the kitchen.

And neither of us said a word about my relationship with Jonah, though I tried to include him in the conversation when she asked about work. The only problem with that was that Jonah said about two words and then clammed up. I realized he was uncomfortable too. After a couple of awkward attempts to get him to talk, I decided not to do that again.

I think we were all exhausted by the end of the dinner, and Andrea said she’d had a long day and was going to turn in early. It may have been a tactical retreat. While Jonah cleared the plates and loaded the dishwasher, I carried Andrea’s bag to the spare bedroom.

“Thanks,” she said as I put the bag down on the dresser.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything? How are you going to get to the hospital tomorrow?”

“I’ll get an Uber.”

“What time did you want to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Probably in the morning.”

“Let me check my schedule. Maybe I can drive you in. She’s at Mt Auburn Hospital?’

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause.

“Well, I’ll…” I began.

“How old is he?” Andrea asked.

Oh crap. I was really not planning on getting into a conversation about this so soon. Andrea would want details.

“He’s twenty-four,” I said. From experience, I knew it wasn’t worth obfuscating or distracting her. She’d be relentless. Better just to give her the information she wanted and act as disinterested as possible. Or maybe confident was how I should be trying to act? The last thing I should do is appear embarrassed or unsure of myself. If Andrea smelt blood, she’d be merciless.

“And he works in your department?”

“Division. We met before he started work. I had nothing to do with his hire or anything,” I quickly added, maybe a little defensively. But I was hoping that might answer all the awkward questions she would have. Perhaps I’d get out without receiving too much shit.

“And he’s only twenty-four?”

And I was wrong again.

“That’s what I said,” I agreed.

“He’s not much older than your nephew,” she said, crossing her arms. Was that a power move? Was she genuinely annoyed at me?

“He’s a lot older,” I objected. Her oldest wasn’t even a teenager yet.

“He’s not much older than Cal,” Andrea pointed out.

Oh. I’d forgotten about Cal, my older brother's eldest child. I kept forgetting about him. Cal lived with his mother in Oregon, and I hadn’t seen him in years.

“He’s…how old is he now?” I asked.

“Just turned twenty.”

“Fuck, they grow old fast,” I said lightly. “But then Paul did start early,” I added, trying to joke about it. At 17, Paul had gotten his girlfriend pregnant, which had caused all sorts of problems. They had gotten married, but the marriage lastest less than three years. The mother won custody of their son and had moved back to Oregon and her family, while Paul went on to three more marriages and four more kids. Last I’d heard from Andrea, the current marriage didn’t look like it was going to last much longer.

At least I was unlikely to do any of that. Still, I was starting to feel annoyed that I had to defend my relationship with anyone, least of all my sister.

“Have you told Mom? Are you planning to bring him to Thanksgiving?” Andrea asked.

“No, and yes,” I said.

“Then you should probably let everyone know well beforehand, so they can get used to the idea. Less awkward. Maybe take him out to meet Mom beforehand?”

“Okay,” I nodded begrudgingly.

“Just a thought,” and I had to feel good that Andrea seemed to be offering positive suggestions. But then she went and spoilt it all. “Do you think he’ll sit at the kids' table or the adults?”

The question didn’t deserve an answer.

“You need anything?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” she said. “I can’t tease you about it?”

“No,” I said.

“Then you’re clearly not comfortable with it yourself.”

I stared at her levelly.

“I love him,” I said, almost whispering.

Andrea paused, and then she nodded. She opened her mouth as if to say something, paused again, and then said rather casually, “He’s cute.”

I rolled my eyes and left her to finish unpacking, and went looking for Jonah. He probably could use some help tidying up.

But I found the kitchen cleaned, the dishwasher loaded and running, and no sign of Jonah anywhere. For a moment, I wondered if he had gone back to his apartment. I was more than a little relieved when I went upstairs and found Jonah standing in the master bedroom, searching through one of the dresser drawers. I went up and put my arms around him and hugged him.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded while determinedly going through the contents of the drawer. For a moment, I wondered if he was packing.

“You okay?” I asked him.

Jonah shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“That’s okay,” Jonah said. “I can go back to the apartment.”

“What? No.”

“I should,” he said, but I could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Please don’t,” I said, “I don’t want you to leave,”

Jonah paused, and then he turned and stared at me. I hugged him.

“Please?” I repeated softly.

I released him, and Jonah smiled and nodded.

“You’re staying?” I confirmed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded again.

I hugged him once more.

“I’m just gonna wash up,” I said.

“Okay,” he grinned.

I washed up and then went back into the bedroom and found Jonah lying in bed. I stripped off and climbed in beside him, noticing that Jonah was wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants, the latter I didn’t even know he possessed.

I cuddled up to him.

“You’re entirely overdressed,” I complained, and I reached down and started to grab at the hem of his t-shirt, but his hands came down and pushed me away.

“Your sister is here,” he hissed.

“I am aware of it,” I said.

“You should put something on. What happens if there’s a fire or something?” he asked.

“Then I’ll run out naked, just like I would any other night. Or I’ll grab my pants off the chair if I have the time. It all depends on how critical the emergency is.”

“Huh,” Jonah puffed. “Did she say anything about me?” he asked.

I was tempted to lie, but I thought that was a bad idea.

“She asked how old you were. I think she maybe thinks you’re too young for me,” I said.

“Bitch,” Jonah complained under his breath.

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why we’re going to have some loud and energetic sex, just to get back at her,” I said, pulling him towards me.

“No,” Jonah said, sliding away from me.

“No?” I repeated.

“Not while she’s here.”

“Seriously? I’m being cock blocked by my sister?”

“I don’t want to have sex with your sister here,” he said.

“It’s not like she’s in the room or anything,” I pointed out.

“What if she wants something and comes looking for you?”

“She’s not going to,”

“We’re not having sex,” Jonah said firmly.

“That sucks,” I said.

“Not even that,” he said adamantly, though a small smile passed his lips.

“Alright, but can’t you at least take those clothes off so we can have a nice cuddle?” I asked. Jonah loved to cuddle together naked after sex. And I figured if he was naked, I was that much closer to having sex with him.

“No,” he said.

“Jonah.”

“No.”

I sighed.

It was distressing to think that he might have more self-control than I did.

“Okay,” I said, reluctantly.

I lay back and pondered how this had happened to me. I wondered what this meant for Thanksgiving. Jonah probably wouldn’t even want to sleep in the same bed with me at my mother's. Clearly, we’d have to stay at a bed and breakfast or hotel nearby. I resolved to look into making a reservation. I wasn’t going to spend Thanksgiving hanging out with my family making jokes about Jonah’s age, and not getting any sex.

Jonah slid up to me and put his arms around me. His body was warm and soft, even if it was wrapped in cloth.

“I love you,” he said, and he kissed me.

I considered being annoyed with him, withholding affection because he was withholding sex, but he’d get more annoyed, and where would it end?

I put my arms around him and pulled Jonah tightly against me, leaning over to kiss him on the lips.

“I should have told her she can’t stay here tonight. There’s a lovely Comfort Inn in Springfield,” I said.

“Springfield?”

“It’s a two-hour drive west.”

“Ah,” said Jonah. “Is she going to be here all day tomorrow?”

“No. She's going to the hospital to visit her friend tomorrow. I’ll probably go late into work and drop her off.”

Jonah looked at me, puzzled.

“What?” I asked.

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he said.

“It is? I thought today was Thursday?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Oh, well, I guess I won’t have to go late into work.”

“No, you won’t,” he said, and paused for a moment before continuing. “How can you be head of the division and not know what day it is?” His self-satisfied expression suggested he found it extremely amusing.

“What can I say? When I’m with you, all the blood runs from my brain to my cock, and I can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, you never think straight,” he joked back at me.

I leaned in to kiss him, and after a long lingering kiss, Jonah pulled off his t-shirt and threw it on the floor. He didn’t take off his pajama pants, but this was something, and I pulled him close and felt skin against skin, and then I spent the next fifteen minutes kissing and licking his chest.

And it was his own damn fault if he had to go to sleep with an erection as hard as steel.

The only problem with my plan was that I was just as hard.

The next morning I woke around 9am. There was no sign of Jonah, but then that wasn’t really a surprise.

Saturdays, we often spent the morning making love, then taking a nice long, warm shower together. I was pretty sure Jonah wouldn’t want to do either of those things today. This perhaps also explained why Jonah had gotten up without waking me.

But if Jonah wasn’t here, then he’d either decided to go back to his apartment, or he was downstairs, where he might run into my sister. His wallet and phone were still on the night table beside the bed, so I figured Jonah must be downstairs, risking an encounter with my sister.

Brave Jonah.

I decided I better go down and see if he needed rescuing.

I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, figuring I’d shower and get dressed properly later, and wandered downstairs.

Halfway down, I could hear my sister's voice.

“You don’t have any family?”

“Not really,” was Jonah’s reply. “My mother died when I was young, I lived with my grandmother for a while after that, but then I was in a foster home.”

“Are your grandparents still alive?”

“No. My grandmother died when I was sixteen.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m sorry,” my sister said softly. I couldn’t make out Jonah’s reply.

I decided it was probably not a good idea to continue eavesdropping and hurried down the stairs, trying to make my steps as loud as possible.

“Hi,” I said brightly, announcing my entrance.

They both looked up at me.

Jonah was sitting at the island, and my sister was at the stove, and it appeared that she might be cooking breakfast.

“Something smells good,” I lied, because I couldn’t smell anything, but that was what you said when you came down to someone cooking.

“I haven’t even started cooking,” said Andrea exasperatedly.

“Must be something else then,” I said, sticking my tongue out at her before going up to Jonah, putting my arms around him, and hugging him to me. I leaned around and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

“Morning,” I said, pleased that he didn’t seem perturbed by this public display of affection in front of my sister.

“What are you intending to make?” I asked, looking up at Andrea but keeping my arms around Jonah.

“Pancakes,” said my sister. “And eggs. Jonah says he doesn’t like French toast.”

Jonah shrugged.

“Each to their own,” I said, letting go of Jonah and taking the stool next to him. He glanced over at me, and I reached out my hand and rubbed it slowly up and down his back. “Need any help?” I asked Andrea.

“We have it covered,” she said. “We were just talking about Thanksgiving, and I said Jonah was welcome to spend it with us.”

“I was planning on inviting him,” I said. I didn’t really want to discuss this now with her there, but I couldn’t say that.

“Well, just make sure you do. Don’t go and wait to the last moment, assuming that he’s expecting you to. He might get a better offer.”

I glanced at Jonah, and he grinned at me and nodded as if Andrea had just said something very insightful. Before I could say anything, Andrea turned to Jonah and continued, “…and between you and me, about 90% of the alternatives are probably better.”

Jonah’s grin widened.

“Are you suggesting our family is dysfunctional?” I asked Andrea, feigning shock.

“No, I’m suggesting that hardly anyone can cook! Even Mom is close to hopeless. Have you ever had one perfect meal there? Or even a good meal? Usually, something is burned, partially frozen, or both.”

“You keep on like this, and he won’t want to come,” I pointed out, grinning at Jonah to let him know that we were—sort of—joking. Jonah laughed.

“So what time do you want to get down to the hospital?” I asked Andrea. Jonah and Andrea were now sitting at the island while I was loading the dishwasher.

“She said to get there no earlier than 11,” said Andrea.

“And are you going to be staying with her or coming back here?”

Andrea looked thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Do you want to leave your things here or take them with you?”

There was a long pause, and then she said slowly, “I don’t know.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” I complained, though I smiled, so she knew I was joking.

“Sorry, I…just don’t know.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. Why don’t you pack your things, bring them with us, then when you get there, you can check with your friend and figure out what’s you’re going to do?”

“You’re going to wait around at the hospital?” Andrea asked.

“No,” I said. “I thought we might walk around Harvard Square. Hopefully, give you enough time to figure things out. Worst case, I can always drop your bag over if you still don’t know what to do,” then I turned to Jonah, “you want to go to Harvard Square with me, or do you want to hang out here?”

Jonah looked thoughtful.

“What would we do in Harvard Square?” he asked as if it was the most boring place in the world.

I looked at him for a moment, confused why he wasn’t interested in going and then wondering if he didn’t want to go with Andrea. I decided to try selling the idea. “We could window shop, there’s a really good book store, and we could get lunch?” I said, walking around to stand behind him, and I hugged him quickly. “You’ll like it,” I promised, before stepping back. I glanced over at Andrea and saw that she was staring at me with an odd expression, but before I could say anything, Jonah nodded.

“Okay,” he said.

I turned back to Andrea.

“That work?” I asked.

Just before 11, the three of us trooped out to the car. Andrea offered to sit in the back, but Jonah said he would and jumped in the back before Andrea had a chance. I suspected he thought he could hide there. As he got in, I heard him exclaim. “Holy shit!”

“What?” I asked him.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, dismissing my inquiry, and I decided not to push it.

It was a pretty quiet trip to the hospital. Andrea was fixated on where she would have to go and what state her friend would be in, while Jonah seemed unwilling to chat, so in the end, I put on the radio.

Half an hour later, we were on Mt Auburn street, and I managed to find a parking spot on the road. Parking in Harvard Square wouldn’t be any easier, so I planned to leave the car there, and Jonah and I would walk the five blocks or so to Harvard Square. I needed the exercise.

Leaving Jonah by the car, I followed Andrea into the hospital to make sure that she could get in to see her friend.

“So you’ll call me, let me know what you are going to do?” I asked her.

“Yes, yes,” she said, almost absentmindedly.

Just before the entrance, my sister paused.

“You don’t need to come in,” she said.

“I was going to wait and make sure…” I began.

“I’ll call you, go and have fun with…”

“Jonah?” I asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, turning to go in and then pausing again and turning back.

“He’s too young for you, you know, but I like him better than John.”

“Uh, thanks?” I said, for the first time realizing that Andrea maybe hadn’t liked John. I resisted the urge to ask her what it was about John that she hadn’t liked.

Andrea nodded, apparently thinking about what to say next.

“He’s not 24,” she said, and before I could reply, she turned and started walking.

“What?” I asked.

“You heard,” she called, without turning back.

To be continued…