The Broken Circles - 4. Chapter 4 - Guilty Pleasures

We began hanging out every couple days when all of us had time. It was pretty staged initially even a little forced, but necessary as we were still getting to know one another and there was virtually no common ground. David offered his place to hang out, and other times it was Chance’s house, or a park, or a coffeeshop. David’s condo was massive, located in the heart of Dupont Circle and was immaculately furnished, which was fitting for David; both seemingly stepped out of GQ photospreads. His perfectly dark blond faux-hawk was always gelled just right, his sky blue eyes seemed so serene, almost glowing. And that smile, man, when he smiled you could hear the panties hitting the floor. We never talked about what to do after our first date so our friendship sort of fell into the ‘friend zone’ which was fine by me. As good looking as David was, I couldn’t bear to be apart from Chance. That and I think I’d be jealous of all the attention the Brit got. Insanely jealous.

One weekend late spring the gang had planned to meet at Dupont Circle and I was there early. The DC train system was blessedly clean, but prone to ‘single tracking madness’ so planning was never easy. I was an hour early which was fine because I brought a sketchbook and walkman and waited patiently for the gang to arrive. Chance had the awful idea of driving into DC, not realizing how bad parking was, so I imagined him to be late by 30 minutes to an hour. David spotted me from down the street and his smile brightened the world around him. He was dressed a dress shirt that was so perfectly tailored that it looked like it was painted onto his chiseled frame and slacks that probably cost more than all of my clothes. Tucked in one arm was a baguette and in his other hand, a bag of groceries.

“Eli,” he said, putting down his bag and pulling me into a hug. I admit, David’s hugs were pretty awesome. A little longer than most hugs were and he put his whole body into it and his hands would make small circles on my back. I returned the embrace and nodded.

“David, good to see you,” I said, all smiles. “What’s with the baguette?”

“I thought I’d cook for us today. What’s with the sketchbook?” he fired back.

“Oh, just some sketches. Super heroes mostly,” I murmured. David looked curiously over my shoulder, the nearness allowed me to smell his aftershave and deodorant.

“I didn’t know you drew. Is that Wolverine?” he asked. I nodded, grinning.

“Yup, he’s all sniktity-snikt snikt,” I said. “And how do you know who that is?”

“I use to collect,” he said, then in his best American accent, “Duh.” I chuckled and jabbed him in the ribs. “Even have the Marvel Comics RPG.”

“No joke?” I said. I would have never pegged David for a geek. Perhaps that’s what brought us together as friends subconsciously. David nodded emphatically.

“Oh yes, closet gamer, though don’t tell my fanclub,” he replied.

“Prove it,” I said. David gave me a deadpan stare then shrugged and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Down boy, we don’t need to get the natives restless with your shenanigans.” David pulled out his t-shirt which read, “Choose your weapon” with Dungeons & Dragons’ dice above the words. I chuckled and murmured, “Nerd.” David grinned.

“I haven’t gamed in a while, but I still have all the books. Law school: The mind killer.”

“Touche, though you do have a lot of free time for someone in law school,” I said, shoving my sketchbook into my bag. David shrugged.

“It takes a lot of time, and I spend it efficiently. At least I think I do. I haven’t been kicked out yet, so I must be doing something right.” A couple of hipsters looked in our direction, exchanging whispers. Both came up almost joined at the hip.

“Hi, I like your jeans,” one said, blushing a deep red. My brows raised curiously, and I swear if they were any higher they’d have taken to the sky. I instantly wished Song was there to diffuse the situation. “Um, I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee.”

David and I exchanged glances and immediately burst out laughing. Not that polite chuckle but that full-blown crowd-stopping-’what-they-were-doing?’ guffaw. I didn’t mean anything mean by it; this sort of thing happened all the time to David that the only response that seemed to top it was to chuckle at it. Clearly the hipsters weren’t in on the inside joke and turned pale.

“I’m sorry, mates, I’m happily accounted for,” he said and to accentuate his point, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in to nuzzle my neck. They turned tail and bounded off to the Starbucks across the street. David whispered in my ear, “Thanks, Eli.”

“No problem, David, anything to help a friend in need,” I said, craning my head and smiled at him.

“You guys comfy?” I heard Malcolm’s voice murmur. I sat up straight feeling my cheeks burn. David sat back, resting his weight on his hands idly.

“Was, mate, was,” David said turning his head to casually glance across the street. I stood up and spread my arms to hug Mack as he extended his hand to shake mine and as I reached out a hand to shake his, he spread his arms out. Over the past few months of hanging out, I still wasn’t sure how to regard Mack in terms of affection. I gave all of my friends hugs so it was odd not to feel right with hugging Malcolm. Instead we settled on bumping fists.

“Hey Mack, how was the ride in?” I asked. He shrugged and gave me a lopsided grin and wobbled his hand side to side.

“The metro is suffering from single-tracking hell,” he deadpanned. “Absolute madness.”

“That sucks, dude,” I replied. “We’re just waiting on Chance before... I dunno, coffee.”

“You and your coffee,” David said, grinning. I shrugged, grinning dumbly and to quote Chance’s favorite saying, “Hey, a man’s got needs!”

The three of us sat around the fountain making small talk. It was hard to get Mack to weigh in on any conversation; him being in Dupont Circle seemed to make him really rigid. I noticed a couple guys checking him out, which wasn’t shocking; Mack had that cool rugged mountain man look going for him. He wasn’t pretty like David; his jaw was square, his cheeks ruddy, and his eyes made him look older than he really was. While David’s hair was perfectly gelled in place, Mack’s auburn hair was bristly and flopped over his thick dark eyebrows. I casually leaned into Mack and whispered, “Looks like you’ve got a following.”

“Erm..yeah, looks that way,” he replied. He glanced at me and his brow furrowed. “So why are the thin guys looking at David and the older ones looking at me?” I shrugged.

“I dunno, strange classicism in the gay community? I guess you don’t need to worry about that,” I said and quickly added, “Be glad that you don’t.”

“Right,” he murmured. David had been looking at us intently during the exchange and I noticed his expression darken just a bit.

“I mean, no one is looking at me, right?” I added helpfully. Mack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t say that, Eli,” David responded, his tone a bit more serious than I was expecting. “Look, that older gent in the light blue shirt has been eyeing you for the past 10 minutes.”

“Oh, great, you get the twinks, Mack gets the bears and I get the creepy leches. Awesome,” I said, grinning, giving him two thumbs up.

“Bears?” Mack asked. I grimaced, thinking I had inundated Mack with too much gay information than he preferred.

“Big stocky fellows like that guy in the leather vest,” David said, pointing at a gruff older man. Mack grimaced sourly.

“I see,” he said.

I could make out Chance down the street. He waved animatedly at us and charged the fountain, his favorite band “Gay4Kirsti” emblazoned on his shirt. I got up and flew into his arms. Chance hoisted me up and swung me around, laughing boisterously as he did so.

“Hey kid,” he whispered against my ear.

“Hey yourself,” I murmured, inhaling his scent. Chance was the strange happy medium between David and Mack. He still had a boyish face but stubble creeped out in strange patches giving him a slightly older look. The past two years of knowing him had made him more and more perfect in my eyes. He put me down gently but kept embracing me. I don’t know how long the hug lasted but when I looked up we had everyone in the park staring at us. “Looks like we’re making a scene.”

“Enh, let them stare, I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with you,” Chance said, with that dopey smile on his face. The nagging voice in the back of my head kept shouting, “Let him go you fool! He can’t love you like you want him to!”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel purdy, Chance,” I said, making a silly kissy face. David and Mack got up to join us. “Um, sorry guys, it’s the standard greet of Chance and I.”

“Are you going to hybridize your names, too?” David said grinning. I smiled.

“We’ll go by ChEli,” I replied without missing a beat. Chance cocked his head back and let out a deep rumbled laugh. That laugh signaled validation to me. Malcolm looked at me skeptically. “Don’t worry Mack, when I’ve known you for a year you’ll get a cool pet name too.”

“Can’t wait,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but before I could say anything he added, “I’m gunning for ChaKenzie.” I chuckled.

“Or MackEli,” Chance added helpfully. David rolled his eyes.

“Davance?” I threw in. “In case you two ever become a duo of drag queens.”

“Or Elivid,” Mack said, clearly interested in the name game we were playing.

“Sounds like nerdraging on the interweb,” I retorted, grinning impishly.

“D’Elid?” Chance said thoughtfully. “I seek justice? D’Elid!” Addams Family Values was one of Chance’s favorite movies and he was fond of quoting it. We crossed the street toward the Starbucks the hipsters fled to and found them staring through the window. David had sidled himself next to me with his arm casually draped over my shoulder as we passed them. Chance and Mack gave us squirrely looks but didn’t say anything about it.

Hanging out with the gang was both a blessing and a curse. We complemented each other emotionally and intellectually and seemed to thoroughly enjoy each others’ company, but often I wished it was just Chance and I. The dynamic duo, the BFF’s, the gay guy hopelessly in love with his straight best friend-combo! Even though David seemed flirty, I didn’t feel the same about him as I did with Chance. Having someone flirt with me though, was a pleasant change of pace.

We hung out at Starbucks for a few minutes while waiting for our orders and due to the crowdedness we were effectively wedged together like a can of sardines. Mack looked even more uncomfortable being in such close proximity but kept a straight face during this. I nudged him in his side with my elbow and smirked at him hoping to break the tension. I hoped that we’d get past the super awkward part of our friendship. It must be hard for him the be the only straight guy in our circle of friends, I thought, then caught myself: Chance wasn’t gay.

We began its long trek to David’s condo. We had hung out there only a couple times, and it was massive, far more massive than Chance’s apartment. David furnished his apartment with very muted tones, all very fashionable mid-century modern furniture.

“Let me put away groceries and I’ll be right back. There’s some beer in the fridge if you want some,” David said disappearing into the kitchen. The word ‘beer’ made Mack flinch, only slightly, and he caught my staring at him and gave me an apologetic look. Chance’s ears perked up and he bounded off to join David.

“You okay, Mack?” I asked. He grimaced and looked to the kitchen and then nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” he murmured quietly, which I took to mean, “It’s definitely something.” Chance emerged from the kitchen holding three brown bottles and handed one to me and offered one to Mack who grimaced uncomfortably and refused politely.

“It’s root beer,” I said, knowingly, and took a swig. Mack looked sheepish and grinned at me.

***

David emerged every couple minutes to make sure we were in good spirits. He managed to keep his shirt spotless while cooking, which amazed me. The last time I attempted cooking, there were flames shooting out of the toaster oven and high pitched girlish screams from me as I tried putting out the fire. In stark contrast, David was calm and collected and each time he finished a dish, he’d race to the den and drop off a tray of neatly plated finger foods.

“You know you don’t need to do that,” I said after the third time he popped out of the kitchen. “You can spend some time with us. We won’t bite.”

“...that hard,” Chance added, grinning wickedly. David seemed nonplussed and seated himself beside me.

“I found out today that Eli here enjoys drawing,” he began. I grimaced when I heard my name and the craft that I dropped out of school for. “Your drawings were simply amazing.”

“Erm...yeah, thanks,” I murmured, stuffing my face with finger sandwiches.

“Eli’s being modest again,” Chance said, smiling at me supportively. “He’ll be famous one day, just you wait.”

“I’ve never seen your artwork,” Mack mused. “What, am I not cool enough to see how awesome your art is?”

“It really isn’t that great,” I murmured quietly, feeling the pangs of regret and frayed nerves tear at my skin. Chance unfortunately seemed oblivious and pressed his commentary, “You’ll be seeing his stuff in art galleries in a few years.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll have to pin him down and go through his bag for more of his work,” David said, grinning.

“Really. It’s nothing,” I murmured through a grimace. I hated people seeing my work, critiquing and commenting, and the more they talked about me and my failed craft the more agitated I got. Mack was eyeing me carefully, picking up on my insecurity; Chance, however, did not.

“He’s just being modest,” Chance said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Why aren’t you pursuing this professionally?” David asked. The look in his eyes was goading me on, almost teasing me. My fingers gripped the edges of my sweater so tight that my knuckles turned white. I wasn’t good about talking about me or my time in art school, and every time it was brought up, I became nervous to the point of explodi--

“Because I had a nervous breakdown at art school, okay?! I’m a fuck up!” I exploded. My cheeks burned and my hands shook. Instinctively, I grabbed my bag and hurried out the door and charged for the elevator. It was hard to breathe, and my mind was racing. I loved drawing, and I loved art, but I couldn’t hack it in school, and remembering back to those days made my views of my art and my sketchbooks, literally, guilty pleasures. There were days where those memories felt caustic in my mind and I’d stop drawing altogether but like an addict, I returned to it. That day, storming out of David’s condo made me hate myself for loving art. Storming to the metro, I felt my sketchbook in my bag press up against my side, and furiously, I yanked it out of my bag and dropped it in the trashcan and kept walking.

***

I ran out of energy as I neared the fountain and plopped myself down at one of the benches. It felt odd carrying a bag that didn’t have a sketchbook and I felt guilt gnawing at my core. The gang must think I’m some sort of whackjob, I thought numbly, fiddling with the zipper on my sweater. I sat on the bench for a few minutes, letting my racing thoughts keep me rooted in place.

“You dropped this,” I heard Mack’s voice say. He held out my discarded sketchbook and smiled weakly. I grimaced and murmured, ‘Thanks’ and offered a seat next to me. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

“Not really, just a little touchy about my art,” I said, staring straight ahead. “Always have been.”

“Mm,” Mack said laconically.

“Have you been following me all this time?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, “From a safe distance. I told Chance and David that I’d look out for you. They’re waiting back at the condo.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Chance apparently isn’t good at the whole visual cue thing, is he?”

“No, he’s not,” I responded, hating myself for chuckling.

“He shouldn’t have goaded you on. But he’s proud of you. And he thinks your art is good.”

“He’s proud of everything, Mack,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Well, I spent 5 minutes cleaning crumbs and a banana peel off your sketch book and took the liberty of going through your sketchbook. You are good,” he said. The way he said it made me feel better, safer and warm.

“Thanks Mack,” I responded. He reached out and took my sketchbook from my lap.

“There’s one that even looks like me. Why did you draw me as a mechanic?” He opened the sketchbook to one of my drawings. The similarities were uncanny.

“I drew it shortly after I met you. You were working on your car and had grease stains, so...mechanic.” Mack surprised me by chuckling. The laugh lines around his eyes wrinkled animatedly. “I totally forgot about that drawing.”

“Well, I thought it was pretty awesome.”

“Thank you, Mack. For saving my sketchbook and for finding me,” I said. Instinctively, I reached over and wrapped my arm around him. I felt his body stiffen and I panicked immediately pulling away. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he commented and smiled. “You guys are a touchy feely bunch; I’ll get use to it.” To accentuate his point, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his chest. “I’ll always find you.”

We sat like that for a while, watching people walking past us with their dogs, or significant others, and it was nice to feel someone so close. My racing thoughts slowed to a noticeable crawl and I found myself relaxed, even content.