Free Bygones by Lavyrle Spencer Page B

said, “Hello.”
    Michael flushed, and gripped Randy’s hand.
    Long after the contact ended, Randy felt the imprint of his father’s palm on his own.
    A clerk intruded. “Gentlemen, if you’ll step this way.”
    They followed him into a room, carpeted and mirrored, that held tuxedos in every color, from black to pink. The clerk told Mark, “I presume you’ve talked with the bride about colors.”
    “The bridesmaid’s dress is apricot. She said I could decide what color the tuxes should be.”
    “Ah, good. Then might I suggest ivory with apricot cummerbunds? We have several styles . . . .”
    While the clerk prattled on, Michael and Randy remained intensely aware of each other, their emotions in turmoil. They removed their jackets, faced a wall of mirrors, and had their measurements taken, trading glances in the mirror before looking discreetly away. They buttoned on pleated shirts, experimented with bow ties, and thought about when they were a boy and a young father and Randy had put shaving cream on his face and shaved with a bladeless razor, while his dad stood beside him and shaved with a real one.
    Once Randy had asked, wishfully, “Do you think I’ll ever be taller than you, Dad?” And now he was, by a good inch-all grown up and capable of holding grudges.
    When the fitting was done, they put on their street clothes again and shuffled from the store into the mall. Mark and Jake headed straight toward the exit, leaving Michael and Randy to follow. Every step of the way, Michael felt his chest contract as his chance slipped away. A question danced on tilde his tongue, while he feared Randy’s rebuff.
    Just before they reached the plate-glass doors, Michael spoke. “I haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” He strove for an offhand tone, but his heart was in his throat.
    “Yeah. I grabbed a burger earlier,” Randy lied.
    “You sure? I’m buying.”
    For a moment their gazes locked. Hope took on new meaning as Michael sensed Randy vacillating.
    “No, thanks. I’m meeting some friends.”
    Michael gave away none of the crushing disappointment he felt. “Well, maybe some other time.”
    “Yeah, sure.”
    Six years was a long time, and some sins go beyond forgiving. So they left the shopping center by separate doors, went their separate ways, and clung to their separate hurts.
     
    THAT NIGHT BESS FINALLY HAD her date with Keith. They ate at Lido ’s, where the minestrone was thick and spicy, the pasta homemade, and the chicken parmigiana exquisite.
    When their plates had been removed, they sat over wine and spumoni.
    “S. . .” Keith said, fixing his stare on Bess. His face was round, and his glasses were thick enough to magnify his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to mention Michael.”
    “Why ?., “Well, you’ve been seeing him lately,   haven’t you?”
    “I’ve seen him three times, but not in the way you infer.”
    “Three times?” Keith began ticking them off on his fingers. “The night Lisa set you up and the night of the dinner at the in-laws. When was the third time?”
    “Keith, I don’t appreciate being grilled like this.”
    Keith took a sip of wine, lowered the glass, and remarked, “I’m waiting to hear about the third time you saw him.”
    “If I tell you, will you stop haranguing me?”
    He stared at her awhile before nodding stiffly.
    “I went to see his condo. I’m going to decorate it for him. Now could we just finish our spumoni and go?”
    “Are you coming to my place tonight?”
    “I don’t think so. I have a lot of work to do at home tomorrow, and I have to get up early.”
    “You put everything else before me.”
    She said gently, “You demand a lot.”
    He leaned closer to her and whispered fiercely, “I’m sleeping with you. Don’t I have a right?”
    She found herself unmoved by his resentment, tired of fighting this fight. “No. I’m sorry, but no.”
    He pulled back. “I’ve asked you so many times to marry me.”
    “I’ve been married, and