My cafe au lait was amazing. Hugo could tell I was in heaven as I nursed its frothy top.
"That relationship?" he remarked. "I'd rather have my spleen removed."
"For all of its problems-- they're in love. They work at it and it pays off. I admire that." I paused. "I just wish Greg would-"
Hugo put up his hand. "I don't want to hear about it." And then walked away.
He was still angry.
But I was worried. Greg wasn't going down a path, he was going down an alley. Steve has a short fuse and I pray I don't hear about one of their fights on the six o'clock news.
Hugo passed by and nodded his head towards the corner of the room. I looked over, seeing a senior lesbian couple in their 70's sharing a muffin over coffee. They didn't talk, they sat in silence looking out the window. Had they run out of things to say to each other? The longer I stared I realized volumes were being spoken between them through a simple gesture, look, or touch.
They had a history. 10, 20, or 50 years together?
I realized how badly I wanted that. But could I ever just sit there and keep my mouth shut? Yes. Yes, I could. Yes, I think I could. Maybe I could.
Couldn't I?
The ocean shimmers like it's a summer's day and the sand feels warm beneath my towel. While the rest of the country is freezing, I'm sitting here getting a tan reading my Premiere magazine. Life is good.
The gay beach has a splattering of men and women across the sand, segregated by choice, so the boys can play with the boys and the girls can play with the girls.
No babes around except for one pretty brunette who's with a guy that keeps staring at us dykes. Pervert.
I look back at my magazine and discover an expose on the cast of FRIENDS. Can you say overkill? I quickly turn the page when out of the corner of my eye, I see the Pervert stand up and walk over to the men's beach. What the...?
He joins a group of men and I realize he's actually a friend of Dorothy's. Which means, chances are...
I look at the girl and ponder ways of introducing myself. "Do you have the time? Do you have the time for me? Do you have the time to spend with me, some baby oil, and a Twister game board?"
I stand up and walk towards her, moving closer to the beauty when suddenly she looks right up at me and asks, "Do you have the time?"
WHAT!? Either this is kismet and she's my soulmate or she's an alien who can mind meld.
"I'm sorry, I don't have a watch." I respond. She looks at me, disappointed, and then crosses over to the men's beach.
Is she for real? I look at her feet. Are they webbed? No, they're gorgeous. She joins her friend's group and someone tells her the time, handing her a soda. She sits down with them and I realize she's gone.
Oh well, I tried. I walk to the incoming tide and put my feet in the freezing water when FOOTSTEPS rush past me. I turn, seeing a beautiful jogger move behind me. A little chubby but hey, she's jogging.
Should I chase after her and ask for the time? As the water laps around my feet and I gaze out at the cobalt blue sea, I realize there's no need to push it.
I've got plenty of time.
