His words pulsed through me. Just lit me up, ramping up even more the anticipation of the secret he was about to tell me. It felt like my heart was pounding between my temples. Because I knew what he was about to say, and that both terrified and elated me.
“When I say I want more freedom to be myself, I mean I want to know what it’s like to be like you.”
The flutter in my chest was intense, like a bird was flapping its wings against my ribcage, and even before I asked the question, I knew the answer. That comment—“like me”—could mean anything, but I knew. I knew. I’d known from the first moment.
Still, my voice shook when I asked, “Like me?”
Instantly the energy around us seemed to change. Elias was no longer somber. He was smiling, but he put his hands up. “Okay, now I think I scared you.”
Dammit, Elias, keep talking. “I’m not scared.”
With the smile still on his face, he tapped my foot with his under the table. He leaned in like he wanted to avoid yelling over the noise, but even with chatter all around us his voice was sure and clear. “I’m gay, and I want to know what it’s like to live openly. I could never do that here.”
All the breath left my body, and not because I had never heard this kind of thing before. I’d been working all over the world for years, at times in places where it was not safe to even discuss LGBTQ rights, much less be openly gay. Hell, I’d dated a few guys who had to live on the DL for their own safety. But Elias’s revelation felt like he was opening a door.
I rushed to make sure he knew I understood the kind of trust he was placing in my hands. “Elias, I just want you to know I would never betray your confidence.”
He tapped my foot again. “I know, konjo.” He gave me the smallest smile, and my entire body buzzed with anticipation.
There was so much more I wanted to say and to ask, but I didn’t want to get too intense or seem needy, so I latched onto the only safe thing I could think of to say. “What does that mean? Konjo?”
This time the smile he gave me made my entire body light up. “It means beautiful.”
“Oh.” I had nothing.
Language escaped me entirely while I sat there, marveling at how the spot on my knee—where it was touching his—throbbed like a beating heart. I frantically searched for a way to respond to Elias’s words, as well as the way he was looking at me, but the server brought the check, forcing us to focus on something else for a few minutes.
After arguing about who would pay, we settled on me buying dinner and him paying the cover and drinks at the show. We walked out of the restaurant and headed to the bar, which was in a building across the street. Neither of us mentioned the conversation we’d been having before, or that Elias had come out and basically made it clear he was into me.
I should’ve been concerned about the fact that I was once again being impulsive, and in a situation that would almost certainly end in disaster. But these weeks of getting to know him, of starting a friendship, made this all seem like the next logical step. None of it felt awkward or weird. It felt fine. I felt fine.
So I went with it.
The bar was called Black Orchid and it was on the top floor of a commercial building. When we walked in, we could hear Ethiopian pop music playing over the speakers. The place was about half full and it definitely had dark and smoky jazz lounge vibes. The lights were dim and there were lots of hidden corners. Small candles were placed at the center of low tables where patrons were lounging on comfortable-looking armchairs. The bar was busy, and to the right of it was the stage, which at the moment had three musicians on it setting up for the band.
I glanced around, taking in the people in the room. It was a mixed crowd. There was a wide range of dress too. Some of the women looking runway ready, while a few of the younger American and European guys were walking around dressed in what I called “expat casual.” All-weather pants, some sort of high-end sweater/fleece combo, and hiking boots. I was pretty proud of myself for being one of the few farenjis actually wearing natural fibers. Because seriously, who shows up to a clearly nice bar looking like they were going to go climb Kilimanjaro?
As we walked through the place, Elias ran into some people he knew and introduced me as his co-worker Desta. As always, every Ethiopian I met was delighted with my name and wanted to hear the story behind it. So we stopped and talked with Elias’s acquaintances as we made our way to the bar.
We finally settled in a corner table close to the stage and ordered some drinks. I was actively trying not to obsess about the fact that I could probably kiss him. Not here, of course, but if we were somewhere alone, my kiss would be welcome. An image of me pressing my mouth to his invaded my thoughts. I wondered if he would probably start by grazing his tongue with mine, tasting me as I did him. Or maybe he’d just chastely press our lips together.
Elias rapped the table lightly with his knuckles, making me jump right out of my sensual daydream. When I glanced up at him, the grin on his lips told me he had a pretty good idea of what I’d been doing. So yeah, the music needed to start soon, or I was in trouble.
As we waited for the show, I felt compelled to bring
