First Night Out

I first met him at Columbus Circle, directly under the looming glare of Trump Hotel. It was Saturday morning and I sipped a coffee aimlessly. Disgustingly bitter, which was fitting. I felt bitter. A couple walking by laughed in French, maybe Italian. Their joy radiated and tied my stomach into knots. As I hopped off the curb to cross the street into Central Park hoping to disappear for a while a cyclist shouted. “WATCH OUT!”. My dark roast tumbled onto the pavement. In a city of millions I was self absorbed to the point of solitude, I didn’t see him coming. He swerved right to avoid me and came to a screeching halt. Too stunned to apologize, I just stared. His eyes were Forest Green and he stared right back. “Would have been a shame to run over such a good looking face” he said. Something was furiously working in my mind, like a nearly finished crossword. Before I could figure it out he spoke again. “Sorry about your coffee, can I take you out and buy you a proper drink?”. Seven across. The clue; “Certain”. Four letters. “Sure” I mouthed, the word slowly stumbling out my mouth. He squinted, unable to hear my whisper. “Yes, I’m free for dinner”. I said it clearly but I was spectating myself from a distance. What was I doing?

I was doing dinner apparently with a man named Henry. I sit now at a table at the top of The Empire Hotel. Every wall is a window, I watch a child splash around the Lincoln Square fountain 30 floors below. I feel childish, playing games with myself. Will he see right through me? Can I disguise all my doubt with lighthearted laughter? I see him now exiting the elevator. His face is sharp but expression soft and easygoing. His hair is dark curly brown and looks equally soft. He shrugs off his coat striding towards the table. He looks like a national park. “Ride your bike here?” I say with a slight smirk. “Yes, actually. Slowly though so I wouldn’t break a sweat or nearly crash into anyone else”. My face is hot, I sip the ice water in a desperate effort to find equilibrium. A waiter strolls to us. Blonde with eyelash extensions and a perfect smile. She gives us a look that a Panda probably gets one thousand times a day at a zoo. Henry doesn’t seem to notice but I feel the urge to knock some of her perfect teeth out. “Anything to drink for you two lovely people?” she blurts in an almost shrill giggle. I can not care less so my eyes defer to Henrys. “Pick us out a Merlot, something we won’t soon forget.”

We talk about the safe topics. The neighborhood we live in. Work. Where we grew up. Ironically he thinks I have nice eyes. I begin to fear that he can indeed see through me. Or maybe my internal crisis is somehow presenting itself externally. I don’t have much time to contemplate this because he soon blows it wide open. “There’s something urgent on your mind. What is it”. Silently staring at each other now, for the second time today. “Why did you ask me out?”. Henry looked out the window, putting together his answer. Turning back to me he says “you looked like you wanted me to.”. Now I’m looking out the window. A different child is playing in the fountain. I also see a faint reflection of myself. “You’re the first person to ever know that I’m gay. I’ve never gone out with another man before.”. All Henry did was smile. “I know”.