'I thought we'd-' throat clear-'go alone. The two of us.'
'That's what I figured. Do you want me to make reservations? Get the tickets?'
'No, I'll handle it. I should be there by six. You might want to tell Clayton we'll be late getting in tonight. Dinner, a show, drinks or coffee afterward.'
'Sounds great.'
Philip was silent a moment, as if expecting me to say more. When I didn't he said good-bye and we signed off.
Dinner was another nightmare meal. Not that anything went wrong. I almost wished it had. If our reservations had been given away or if our food had arrived cold, at least we'd have had something to talk about. Instead, we sat for over an hour acting like two people on a first date after it became clear there wouldn't be a second. We didn't seem to know what to say to each other. Oh, we talked. Philip told me about the lakeside condo campaign he was working on. I told an amusing little story about a gaffe the premier had made at the latest scrum. We discussed Toronto's ideas for rejuvenating the harbor front. We complained about the latest talk of TTC fare increases. We discussed the Jays' early chances for the pennant race. In short, we talked about everything two near-strangers would discuss over dinner. Worse yet, we discussed these topics with the desperation of near- strangers terrified of dead silence. By dessert, we'd run out of subjects. Behind us, three men barely past acne were trumpeting their success with dot-com stocks loud enough that people on the street would know about their good fortune. I was about to make some eye-rolling comment to Philip, then stopped myself. I wasn't sure how he'd react. Would my remark sound overly negative? Snide? It was the sort of observation Clay would appreciate. But Philip? I wasn't sure, so I kept quiet.
As the server refilled our coffees, Philip cleared his throat.
'So,' he said. 'How much longer do you expect your cousin will be with us?'
'A few days probably. Is that a problem? I know he can be a jerk-'
'No, no. That's not it.' He managed a wan smile. 'I must say, he's not the most pleasant company, but I'll survive. It's just been… strange.'
'Strange?'
Philip shrugged. 'I guess it's because you two have known each other so long. There's a real… I don't know. I sense…' He shook his head. 'It's just me, hon. I'm feeling a bit left out. Not the most mature response in the world. I don't know…' He tapped his fingers against his coffee cup, then met my eyes. 'Was there something…?' He trailed off.
'What?'
'Never mind.' A sip of coffee. 'Is he having any luck finding work?'
'He's setting some things in motion at U of T. Once that's a go, he'll move out.'
'So he's staying in Toronto?'
'For a while.'
Philip opened his mouth, hesitated, then took another swig of coffee,
'So,' he said. 'Did you hear Mayor Mel's latest pronouncement?'
We hadn't been able to get last-minute tickets for any decent shows, so we ended up seeing a movie instead, then going to a jazz bar for drinks. By the time we returned to the apartment, it was almost two. Clay wasn't there. While Philip went into the bedroom to get his cell phone and retrieve messages, Clay wheeled in the door, cheeks flushed.
'Hey,' he said, gaze darting past me to look for Philip.
'He's in the bedroom,' I said. 'Did you go for a run?'
'Without you?'
Clay walked into the kitchen. Seconds later he returned with a bottle of water, uncapped it, gulped half, and held the rest out to me. I shook my head.
'Please tell me you were exercising downstairs in the gym,' I said.
Clay took another drink of water.
'Damn you,' I muttered, dropping onto the sofa. 'You promised you wouldn't follow me tonight.'
'No, you told me not to follow you. I didn't answer. My job here is to protect you. That's what I'm gonna do, darling.'
'I don't need-'
Philip reappeared from the bedroom. 'Bad news.' He looked from Clay to me. 'Oh, am I interrupting something?'
Clay guzzled
'What's the bad news?' I asked.
'Emergency meeting tomorrow.' He sighed. 'Yes, it's Victoria Day. I know. I'm really sorry, hon. But I called Blake and bumped our golf game up to eight o'clock, so I'll have time to play and take you out to lunch before the meeting. I'd really hoped to spend more time with you this weekend.'
I shrugged. 'No big deal. Clay and I can keep ourselves amused.'
Philip hesitated, seemed ready to say something, then glanced toward the kitchen and shut his mouth.
At noon Monday, as I waited for Philip to pick me up, he called to say there'd been a mix-up at the golf course and his party had been over an hour late teeing off. They'd just finished their game. So, no lunch date.
After Philip called, Clay and I decided to hike to Chinatown for lunch. We spent the rest of the day slacking off, discovering unexplored neighborhoods, looping down residential streets, then jogging along the beach before returning to the apartment with supplies for a steak dinner. Around seven someone buzzed the apartment, I was in the washroom, so I yelled for Clay to get it. When I came out, he was holding another vase of flowers, this time a mix of irises in an earthenware jar.
'He's sorry for missing lunch,' Clay said. 'You want them in the bedroom with the others?'
I stopped, watching him hold the flowers and waiting.
'Say it,' I said.
'Say what?'
I snatched the flowers from his hand. 'I know what you're thinking. If he really regretted it, he'd have cut his golf game short.'
'I wasn't going to say that.'
'You were thinking it.'
'No, you were. You said it.'
I marched toward the bedroom.
'Water,' he called after me.
With a growl, I veered into the bathroom. I sloshed water into the pot, dislodging a bunch of green marbles. Three plinked into the sink, more onto the floor. I scooped the ones from the sink, gave a cursory look for the others and decided to leave them for cleaning day.
'Unlike some people,' I said as I strode back into the hall, 'Philip doesn't feel the necessity for a couple to lead their lives joined at the hip. That's fine with me. At least he sends flowers.'
Silence returned from the living room. I plunked the vase on my night-stand, beside the roses, and stalked back to Clay. He was perched on the sofa back, reading the rough notes I'd brought home from work Friday.
'Say it,' I said.
He glanced up from the notes. 'Say what?'
'You've been waiting all week to tell me what you think of Philip. Go ahead. Get it out.'
