Free Heart's Desire by Laura Pedersen Page A

or a beer.”
    “Coffee is great if you have any. I’ve become a caffeine fiend at college.” Also, my power nap wore off about four hours ago. And a holiday from alcohol may not be a bad idea for the summer. Getting drunk at keg parties almost every weekend obviously hadn’t achieved the desired effect of making me irresistible to Mr. Right.
    Gil rinses out two mugs and heats up water in the microwave for instant coffee. Then he takes a bag of Milano cookies off the countertop and places it on the table between us. Bernard would die if he knew about the instant coffee and store-bought cookies. Which reminds me of the box I’ve set down in the front hall. “There’s a casserole and some other stuff in that box I brought up.”
    “Oh Hallie, that was very sweet of you. But I’m doing just fine as a bachelor.” He toasts me with a mug of watery coffee.
    “Actually, it was Bernard’s idea.”
    From the pinched look on Gil’s face I gather that he now has mixed feelings about the offering. “I see,” he says.
    We make small talk about work and school but the conversation feels forced, like talking to your parents from your college dorm room while just two feet away some kids are getting stoned. It’s as if neither of us wants to mention
it.
    He finally breaks the ice. “So how
is
Bernard?”
    Bernard has of course coached me for at least an hour on exactly how to answer this question. And though I hadn’t promised to stick to the script, which is basically to say how fabulous he is, I really do feel a loyalty to Bernard, at least in so far as omitting how upset he’s been.
    “Oh, fine. You know, listening to opera, buying Egyptian cotton sheets. And the antiques business is going gangbusters now that the economy has picked up again. He’s selling old-fashioned Coke signs and soda-fountain stools to some retro diner chain.”
    Gil doesn’t appear disappointed but he doesn’t look thrilled, either. Like he would have been happier if I’d worked in at least one negative.
    “And what about you?” I ask. “I was sort of surprised . . . you know . . . kind of sad that the two of you . . .”
    “Yes, I meant to phone you.” He stares down at the tangerine-colored Formica tabletop, which I will
not
be telling Bernard about. “But it was hard to find the right words. And I guess . . . I guess you sort of belong over there, with them. I—I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. . . .”
    “Of course I want to see you! We’ll get together and do stuff.” Only it sounds like a lame plan made by friends moving to opposite coasts.
    “Yes, of course we will.”
    It suddenly dawns on me that I’m not even exactly sure
why
they broke up. “I didn’t ask Bernard, but, I mean, I’m not sure exactly why . . .”
    “Oh!” Gil looks surprised. “I thought he explained.”
    “No, not really.” I don’t want to say how Bernard implied that Gil had a nervous breakdown or a midlife crisis.
    “My brother died very suddenly last month. A heart attack.”
    “Yeah, Bernard told me that. I’m sorry I didn’t hear sooner. I’d have called or something. I mean, actually I didn’t remember that you had a brother. . . .”
    “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re aware that my family disowned me when I came out of the closet. I hadn’t spoken with Clifton in years. I wouldn’t have even known about the funeral if Aunt Theodora hadn’t called. Anyway, I saw the family. My dad’s grown so old. And my sister, Kathleen, and her husband don’t have any children. I went back to the house afterward. It was nice to be with them again. And I felt sorry that I hadn’t seen my mother before she died, and didn’t go to her funeral.”
    Gil looks morose and stares at the bank calendar tacked onto the wall with a pushpin. “We’re all getting older,” he continues. “I just started to think about changing my lifestyle.”
    “Do you mean that you’re tired of living in a small town, with people