Free Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles) by Zoey Derrick

got my usual black jeans on with a t-shirt. I grab my jacket off the hook and I close and lock the door. I stand there for a moment debating on whether or not I am really ready to do this. Can I really let this man go? I know I might have to. I think his heart isn’t in this like mine is, so maybe it is best if we just leave things as they were before New York.  
    Until all this drama with him, I didn’t regret coming out, but now that it is leading to this with Calvin, I kind of wish I hadn’t done it. Part of me hoped that he was more confident in who he was and that he was just waiting for me to find the confidence in myself, but I see and know now that wasn’t the case.  
    I climb into my car and drive away, headed toward Calvin’s house and toward my fate with him.  

    Standing at his door, I can hear soft music coming from inside. He lives in an affluent apartment building near downtown Los Angeles. He’s always been a big city type of person and I prefer the quiet of the ‘burbs, though those don’t really exist in L.A., despite their best efforts. I hesitate, second guessing myself about why I’m here. Why am I giving into him like this? Curiosity wins, and I knock.  
    “It’s open.” I hear him shout from within the apartment and I slowly turn the doorknob.  
    “Cal?”  
    “Be out in a minute, make yourself comfortable,” he shouts from somewhere in the apartment. Though the building screams ‘loads of money’, his apartment is rather modest, with furniture that belongs in a catalog. I thought my tastes were over the top, but he’s putting me to shame with his black leather sofas, larger than life flat screen hanging on the wall, below that an entertainment center that is stuffed with different gaming devices, DVD players and the like. On top of the stand are stacks of movies and games, most of which I recognize from stuff he had on the bus.  
    Though we never played it much, we have two different consoles on the bus, it killed time.  
    The living room leads into a small dining room and I’m surprised to see that the table is set with two place settings, silverware, the whole nine yards. That’s when the scent of something Italian and delicious reaches me. It smells wonderful. Beyond the table is a counter that separates the dining room from the kitchen and sitting on top of that are several lowball glasses and what appear to be two or three different scotches or whiskeys. “Help yourself,” Calvin says as he comes up behind me. “Trust me, you’re going to want a few of those tonight.”  
    “What you got?” I say with confusion coloring my voice.
    “Scotch, whiskey, vodka?”  
    “Scotch. Why the dinner?”  
    “You haven't eaten, have you?”  
    I shake my head and our eyes meet. “I don’t have anything in the house,” I mumble.  
    “I figured. Come sit, it’s ready,” he tells me as he hands me a lowball of scotch.  
    I take a seat facing the kitchen as I watch him work. He pulls something from the oven and then sets it on the counter. “I didn’t know you could cook.”  
    He snorts a laugh, “I would hold judgment on that until you’ve tried it.”  
    “Well, it smells delicious.”  
    Our eyes meet and he mumbles a sheepish, “thanks.” He drops his eyes from mine and finishes whatever it is that he was doing before I stole his attention. “It’s just lasagna.”  
    My stomach rumbles and I hear him laugh as he grabs a plate and brings it over, it’s piled with garlic bread. “It’s store bought bread, so don’t get too excited.” He smiles sweetly at me before returning to the kitchen to bring over the pan he’s just cut up. “We haven't had a home cooked meal in weeks, I thought this would be a good ice breaker,” he says solemnly as he sets the bubbling pan on the hot pads between us.  
    “It smells wonderful.”  
    He smiles as he takes his seat. “You said that already. Here,” he reaches his hand out, “hand me your plate.”