Boyfriends

            Finch kept to his word, chiming the doorbell a quarter after nine. I rushed to meet him. I didn’t want to give him too much time to change his mind.

            Before he’d play me in dominoes, he dodged into the bathroom to change into a tuxedo. An actual tuxedo, not one of those blazers and a clip on tie sort of deal. When I asked him about it, he casually said, “I plan on attending the latter half of a symphony tonight,” with a shrug. This dinged my bullshit detector, but I let it pass. If the old guy wanted to randomly change into formal wear, why bother him about it?

            Finch knew a thing or two about the game. His moves were slow and calculated. Silently, I cursed Mom for not letting me play with her as a kid. I had a hard time keeping my head above water with him. Maybe if I’d had more practice, it might have been easier for me to at least feign interest.

            Luckily, I didn’t have to sit through an entire game.

            One nice thing about not showing fear was that I sometimes forgot to even experience it. If everything was calculated, then I didn’t have much to worry about.  That’s probably how I was able to pull the geezer to his feet and into my arms without so much as raising my heartbeat. I suppose some might consider this sad, the sloppy act being my first kiss, but I was alright with it. I found sucking on his thin lips to be more entertaining than I had thought. And a first anything isn’t really too special, it just happens to come before the others.

            Finch’s reaction was thoroughly more enjoyable than the kiss itself. The poor man tried so hard to convey shock through his excitement. “F-Francis!” he finally managed to stutter out.

I wanted to tell him to knock off the whole surprised act. And I really did not want to hear any bull about such things being frowned upon in his generation. Almost everything is frowned upon by some people in any given time period; it didn’t necessarily make it wrong. I nearly laughed when I realized I was thinking such things. I had almost convinced myself I was some crusader for a good cause, and not just a man who was attracted to money.

I finally decided on asking, “What? Didn’t like it?” in a playful tone.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting something like this!”

“If you’d like, I don’t have to ever do it again.”

“I’ve had wives, I’ll have you know,” he muttered like a child reasoning why they couldn’t enjoy even one type of vegetable, no matter what their curious taste buds argued.  

“Well, maybe now we know why you had to say that in the past tense.”

            Finch’s chest puffed up like he was going to press the issue. He quickly deflated and gave me an unsure smile instead. I mimicked the gesture with more confidence. “You’re a brusque boy, aren’t you?”

“I just know what I want.”

            I really had no way of knowing just how much longer Finch had left. There was too much risk in pursuing the traditional drawn-out courtship. Needing to push things along, I suggested, “How about you try me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Give me a chance and try going steady with me.”

He let me take his hand, but didn’t give me an answer right away.

I could almost hear the wheels clicking in Finch’s head. They were churning out reason after reason as to why he should say no. Age, gender, barely knowing each other. I’ll admit he had more than enough reasons to say no. Eventually though, he breathed, “Fine.”

            I kissed Finch as a reward for faultlessly flowing with my plans. I may have been using him, but I wasn’t entirely heartless.

            It was late and my geriatric boyfriend decided that he wanted to stick to his symphony lie, so I soon escorted him out the door. Frederick kept his back turned while we kissed once more, this one rather chaste. Once Finch was gone, I observed Freddie washing the sink he used for washing dishes.

            I went to the fridge to grab a piece of the pizza Finch had brought over earlier. “What’s up?” I asked when Freddie made a point of staring at me.

“What are you doing with that old man?”

“Trying to score,” I answered and then laughed at the way his freaky nose crinkled up.

“I’m serious. Who is he?”

“My boyfriend.”

My twin clucked his tongue once, narrowing his eyes in a way that showed his distrust. “You’ve never been interested in men before.”

“And you’ve never screwed a girl, yet there you are, dreaming about getting into Marcie’s skirt. What’s your point?”

“You’re gross,” he said like a little kid before scurrying off. I chuckled to myself while sitting down to enjoy my late dinner.