Page 23 of Inside Out
“Yes, I do, and I find it easier to do that sitting in your kitchen laughing over silly phrases with double meanings than in my classroom or your office.”
“I like laughing over my ridiculousness in my kitchen with you.” It was the most fun I’d had in ages. “Why don’t we tuck in to our dinner while it’s still hot, and we can see how obvious I can make it that I haven’t dated in a long time?”
Slicing into his chicken cutlet, Julius asked, “How long?”
“Seven years,” I admitted.
Julius’s hands stilled, but he snapped his head up to meet my gaze. “Seven years? Is that how long you’ve been a widower?” It was a fair question, and one he had the right to ask. I had pursued him because I wanted to get to know him better, and I’d opened the door for the line of questioning with my remark.
“I’ll answer, but only if you take a bite of your dinner while it’s still hot.”
Julius tipped his head to the side to acknowledge my request and took a bite of the chicken parm. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, savoring the flavors on his tongue. “This sauce did not come from a grocery store.”
“You are correct. It came from my next-door neighbor, Lily. She grows the tomatoes and herbs in her garden. She gave this to me before school started, and I’ve saved it for a special occasion.”
Julius took another bite and then another before he said, “I’m a grateful recipient of her talent and generosity.” He pointed his fork at my untouched plate of food. “Your turn to eat. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to discuss. I was just surprised to hear you haven’t dated for so long.”
I took my time slicing through the tender chicken then swirled it through the sauce and put it in my mouth. I’d sampled the sauce when I opened the jar and knew it was remarkable but adding in the meat and mozzarella amped the flavor to a whole other level. While chewing, I debated how much I wanted to talk about Peter on the first date with the man who finally made me feel alive. How much was too much?
“Because I’m such a catch?” I teased. I held up my hand to cut off whatever he was going to say. “Please don’t answer that. It sounds like I’m digging for compliments when I was only trying to crack a lame joke.” I set my fork down and looked across the table in time to see Julius do the same. This felt like a make-or-break moment to me, and I didn’t want to screw it up. “Peter died seven years ago. We weren’t married because same-sex marriages weren’t legal in Ohio at the time. The photo you saw was taken during our commitment ceremony seventeen years ago when we were twenty-eight years old. It wasn’t legally binding, but it was the best we could do at the time. The day meant so much to both of us.”
“How long did you date before your commitment ceremony?”
“Ten years. We met on our first day of college at The Ohio State University.”
“Wow, you were together twenty years,” Julius said softly, briefly breaking eye contact.
“Jules,” I said softly, pulling his eyes back to mine. “I wouldn’t have asked you to dinner if I wasn’t ready. My reason for not dating until now was because I hadn’t met a man who interested me enough to…” What? Put forth the effort? Risk the heartbreak? None of those sounded right. They either made me sound juvenile, lazy, or afraid. I was none of those things. I decided to go with another approach. “I’m not the kind of man who wants to use a dating app or pick up strangers in a bar. That’s just not me. I am a man who knows what it’s like to have a loving relationship, and that’s what I’m looking for now. I’m not assuming you want the same thing, but you make me want to put myself out there to find out. I loved Peter with every fiber of my being, and I am grateful for the time we shared because he made me a better man. Peter wouldn’t want me to live the rest of my life alone. He’d want me to fill my days with laughter and love. I know this because I would’ve felt the same way had the situation been reversed. I can’t erase his existence, nor would you want me to.”
Julius nodded and vehemently said, “I would never want to deny you the memories you have of Peter. Oddly, this reminds me of a conversation I had with my mother on the way over here. I told her about our date then gave her a hard time when she started giving me dating advice and telling me to wear good underwear. I told her to go find her own silver fox and stop obsessing about mine.” I just blinked at him. His silver fox? That was how he thought of me. “Um…”
“Oh no. You’re not walking that back now, Jules.” My smile was so big it made my face hurt.
“Anyway,” he said, spearing a forkful of salad, “I used the same reasoning with her as you gave for Peter. My dad wouldn’t want her sitting home alone each night, especially now that Marcus and I are both gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear your dad passed away,” I said gently.
“Thank you. Eight years ago, he kissed my mother goodbye then dropped my brother off at school on his way to work. He had a ruptured aneurysm on the job and died suddenly. To say it blew our world apart was putting it mildly, so I understand why it takes a person a long time to recover and put themselves out there again. My mom will know when the time is right for her, just like you know the time is right for you now.”
“You have an old soul, Jules. Wise way beyond your years.”
“That’s what my grandmother says too. Maybe I’ve always been mature for my age, but I know a lot shifted in my brain after my dad died. I felt like I needed to step up and be a rock for my family to lean on.” I wondered who he had turned to when the burden became too heavy for him to shoulder alone. Jules ate the bite of salad then took another sip of wine. “Even though I don’t know you well, I trust you to know how you feel and what you want. I’m not going to waste precious time second-guessing your motives.”
“Thank you.” I decided to steer us away from heavier topics and asked, “When did you start playing music?”
“My father taught me how to play the piano when I was five years old then I moved on to the cello, violin, and guitar when I was older. If the instrument has strings, then I can play it. Well, except for the harp. I’m just not a big fan of its sound.”
“What about writing music? When did that start?”
Jules snorted. “Angsty teen years, of course. Man, I had a notebook full of tragic melodies.” After another bite of chicken, he asked, “When did you start theater?”
“I was probably seven years old. I auditioned for a part in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at the kids’ theater. My mom said I was too dramatic and needed a healthy outlet for it.”
“Did you get a part right out of the gate?”
“Sure did. I was cast as Charlie, and let me tell you, it didn’t go over well with the parents of the kids who’d been acting for a while. Here came this upstart taking the lead role. It was the first time I realized I performed best when people didn’t think I was capable.”
“It was the same for me while auditioning for spots on the children’s orchestra. I grew up in a predominantly black neighborhood, and there weren’t many opportunities to play classical music, so my parents took me to a wealthier, whiter neighborhood. I’m not sure anyone took me as a serious threat when I walked in with my secondhand cello. I already stuck out because I was taller than most of the kids, but then my skin was darker and my instrument not as shiny.”