I hadn’t called Henry since our bathroom escapade and Henry, like he promised, hadn’t called me.

On the bus ride home from Mocha Daze I spotted Paul at Pinks hot dog stand on La Brea. We were moving pretty fast and the sun was setting. Quickly I tried to get a look through the dirty bus window to see who he was with, but couldn’t. I paused, wondering if I really wanted to pursue this, until finally I pulled the stop cord. The bus kept going, slowing a few blocks down. Controlled, I kept myself from running back down the block which became easier as I approached the stand.

Paul was with a man, an attractive man. Paul’s profile faced me and if he had turned a quarter of an inch, he probably would have spotted me-- but didn’t. He turned toward the man with him and carried his hot dog and soda to the back where the patio tables waited.

I stepped forward and ordered a New York dog and nothing to drink. I wrapped a napkin around my hot dog and thought about following them back to the patio. It would be obvious, I thought, but maybe so obvious it would never occur to him that I trailed him. I wanted a better look at the man, so I picked up a section of the newspaper that lay on the counter and went to sit in the back.

I didn’t lift my head from the newspaper as I strolled towards him. Nonchalantly, I sat at the first table that was empty. I placed my paper flat on the table and tried to read the cover story on the LA Times about a congressman caught picking up a prostitute on Franklin Blvd. He confessed and apologized, but a lot of constituents still wanted him to resign. For the first time, I raised my head and glanced around the room. Paul was staring straight at me. I responded with my best surprise face and raised my hand with a casual wave. I watched him mouth “Excuse me” to his friend whose back was to me, but even from this perspective I could tell this guy was a winner, a player, had money, had it all. I felt guilty for this, but my first thought was what brought him and Paul together? Perhaps Paul gardened at his house.

I swallowed and smiled as Paul sat across from me at the round patio table. “I hope you’re not following me,” he said.

“Yeah right, I followed you to Pinks.” We both laughed at the absurdity of that. He bought it. “I called you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I talked to your sister. She seems pretty great.”

Paul smiled bright. You could tell how he felt about her by his immediate loving reaction at just the thought of her. But then, as if he had a instantaneous reminder, he stood, “Oh,” he said, “I have to call you, I know.”

“Hey, listen, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I know, I know, but truly I want to talk to you. I’ll call you,” he said, trailing away like a secret note taken by the wind. He sat back with his friend smiling, clearly wanting away from me. I dumped the rest of my dog in the trash bin on my way out.

When I got home, I checked the machine. Fran had a few messages, all women of course, and I wrote them down like a proper roommate. But then a man’s voice floated through the speaker, Henry. He couldn’t stick with it, he had to call. If he had held off a few more days, I was getting ready to call.

“Greg, it’s me. Listen, I know I wasn’t supposed to call, but something’s been really bugging me since I left you. I didn’t say anything when we were together cause it was really nice and I didn’t want to make it weird, but my name is Harvey, not Henry. Okay, that’s it. I’m not doing this to embarrass you or embarrass me, cause I am embarrassed. It’s just that I wanted you to know my real name, cause you kept calling me Henry the other day. By the way, I had an incredible time. Bye.”

Henry, Harvey, they’re close enough aren’t they?