There Are No Answers // Falsettos

Rendezvous

I sit up in bed and light a cigarette. It's a bad habit, but there's something satisfying about it. I close my eyes and inhale slowly, then let it out, facing the open window.

Marvin is already standing up, rushing to get dressed. I'm sure his wife will be up soon. His wife he has to get home to. His wife who doesn't know I exist, who doesn't know what her husband has been sneaking off for.

"Tell your wife I said hi," I mutter, taking another puff of my cigarette. Marvin glares at me from where he's standing, buttoning his shirt. I grin in return.

"I'll see you tonight," is all Marvin says. He gives me a quick kiss, grimacing because of the smoke, and then before I know it he's out the door. I watch him leave, thinking, this is how it ends up every night. He comes over, and then he's gone. Back to his family. The family he's keeping me from, the family he has dinner with every night as if everything is perfectly fine.

It's not.

I like Marvin. Well enough, anyway. He doesn't have a lot going for him. He's married. He's a meteorologist. He has a kid. It's weird to think about. That he has a whole life apart from me. I take another drag, not planning on falling asleep anytime soon. It's almost morning anyway. I'll be starting my day, while trying not to think about Marvin starting his. Driving his kid to school, coming back home to his wife...

I've noticed I spend a lot of my time on this subject. But what else is there to think about when the highlight of my day is meeting up with a married man? It's not ideal, but that's a part of the game of life, isn't it?

This has been going on for a while now. Marvin has only briefly mentioned the other parts of his life, but they're the big parts. I don't want our relationship to just be sex and petty arguments. But how can I say I want something else? How can I want something else?

I go on with my day. And every day after that. If I'm being honest, my rendezvous with Marvin aren't the only things I have going on right now. I'm a busy man. And I need something to get my mind off of the elephant in the bedroom.

Sunday. That's my grocery shopping day. It's practical. I'm there this week, in the produce aisle, trying to decide which apples will better satisfy my needs. And that's when I look up. And I see Marvin.

We just saw each other the other night. But he's with his wife now. And... and a kid. His kid. He's with his family, and if I didn't know him, I would think this family were a normal and happy one. The kid is trying to push the shopping cart, and Marvin is laughing, reaching to take it back. He looks at his wife and they both smile, and I look away.

I don't know if he eventually sees me, but I don't care much as I'm already heading out. Thinking about it, about this possible family, was bad enough. But seeing it just made it real.

Why am I with him? Why do I go along with this, day after day, when I know he's living a lie at home? When I know that if his family broke up I would no doubt be the cause?

But when I see him again, I don't bring up the grocery store, and neither does he, and we're back to normal again. Not normal, normal. But it's enough.

He hurries to get dressed, I make some sardonic remark about his wife, we argue a bit and he leaves. It's a cycle. A regular occurrence. Like my grocery shopping. Day after day, night after night.

Tonight we're at a bar. It's a place I've been to once or twice before. The low light and busy atmosphere makes me dizzy, or maybe that's the two drinks I've already had without making much conversation at all.

I let out a low whistle as I sit down at the bar. "Place is packed tonight, huh?" I ask. Marvin turns, and I'm not sure if he heard me. I'm about to repeat myself, but he speaks first.

"Trina and I are getting a divorce."

Trina. His wife. I'm sure I've heard her name, but it feels new to me. Besides that, there's the news he just told me. They're getting a divorce. That supposedly happy couple I saw at the grocery store no more. And I know I should be happy about it. But I'm not. Not one bit.

"Oh," is my reply. "Are you..." What do I say to that. What the fuck do I say to that? "...all right?"

He pauses. "I don't know."

It's because of me. Obviously, it's because of me. This was what I was worried about. Did he tell her about me? Did he even tell her that he was gay? I want to ask him these questions, but I don't. I just sit there, staring at him, through my half-drunk haze.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

No. I don't know. I don't think I am. This is a lot to take in, and I can feel my headache starting to set in. "Yes."

"Okay," he replies with a sigh. He takes another sip of his drink, and we don't talk. There's nothing more to say.