New Day

The sky had decided to make it personal. No rain for what seemed like forever, but now, it opened up and pelted down it’s fury upon me as though it was meant for me.

My mother lived with me, and she yelled about shit. She yelled about everything, too. But shit was the main thing.

“This shit is too loud!” She yelled.

So, I turned down the TV.

“This shit is cold!” She yelled.

So, I heated up her dinner more.

“Wow, this shit is good!” She yelled.

“You’re welcome,” I’d reply, glad that I had made a decent meal today for her.

But, then, one day, after work, after it had rained like it was the saddest fucking cunt(man or woman or non binary, I don’t care, I don’t give two fucks about who cries or not, cause I cry too fuckin much) who had just finished Titanic for the forteenth fuckin’ time in a row, still surprised by the ship going and sinking with Leo’s frozen face going down right after it(yes, Rose, we all saw enough room for him on that fucking door!) —- I lost my patience sitting on that wet porch waiting for that blasted package.

My mother was going senile, there was no doubt about it. But with my father deceased since last year, I was the only one to care for her. So, for her, I waited for her package. It was supposed to be medicine. Emergency medicine. That only I could sign for. So, if I had to take a shit, I might miss the delivery. So, here I am.

I worked in marketing, and I was fucking good. I created taglines like there was gold coming out of my ass, like I was born to do it or something. But my boss was an arrogant fuck.

He flirted with me all the time, and tried to cop a feel once. I punched his lights out, and instead of firing me, he laughed and named me the new Art Director the next business day. Fuck him.

“Xaivier, you’re the best man on the job,” My boss would tell me.

And then I’d nod, smile as fakely as possible. Show off my pearly whites, too. All insulting like. And then, shove off to my desk and wish I could just quit.

But, there’s a reason I don’t quit. You wanna know why?

No? Well, too bad.

It’s because of that sexy, tall, gorgeous—-oh, fuck it.

I’ll never be able to get a date.

“Xaivier, I like your shirt,” Eric said as we said hello. He didn’t work with me. He worked in the office down the hall. He was a debt collector.

But, Lord knows I forgive it. He was so fucking nice. He always had a compliment to say to me, every day. I’d get up early to be able to see him come into work, just to have this small bit of dialogue with him.

And he’d say my name every single time too. Like some gorgeous announcer on the TV. He’s this really good looking Asian guy with the coolest black spiky hair, working as a debt collector at a collection agency but I’d imagine him as a sportscaster. I’d imagine him going off on these interesting tangents and running plays, and then he’d announce: Toinght I have a date with Xaivier. He has good fashion sense and is not screwing his boss. That rumor is completely unfounded. Thank you and good night!

Then, I’d open up that fucking old bottle of Merlot I have lying around and we’d be laughing at all my witty jokes, and then, we’d fall crazy in love like some stupid teenagers.

Hah! You all say. I hear it. Somehow.

But, I say Hah! To you back.

Just then, the delivery driver pulls up. He gives me the medicine and hurriedly makes me sign it. I thank him, and he asks me where my umbrella is.

I’m soaked like a moron.

I tell him it’s up his ass.

He laughs, and says, Well, up yours too, buddy! And leaves.

I grin and go inside.

“Hey, Xaivier, where is my shit?” My mom yells.

I tell her where it is. On the counter in the kitchen.

“Thanks!” She says.

“Welcome!” I say back. I go upstairs and change.

Then, the next day, I decided to try and compliment Eric for once. Too bad. I’m shitty at it.

“Your glasses look modern. They are nice,” I say to him.

He grins. “Thanks.” But I can tell he’s a bit put off.

What the hell is wrong with me? Who says glasses look modern? I’m just some in over his head, kinda suave Mexican guy who happened to fall in love with tall Asian men all the time! And I was acting stupid.

And then he says, “I like your hat.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“You look good in white. It accentuates your figure,” He adds, and I take it as a final clue to finally ask him out.

I know that at that moment, I was really blushing, but I didn’t care.

“Hey, Eric?” I ask. I try to be casual as hell.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He says, his dark brown eyes glittering up the room like some cheesy rom-com movie.

“You wanna go out sometime and chill with me?”

Eric looked a bit surprised, and opened his mouth, ready to reply.

But I accidentally talked over him, “Like, just chill, have dinner and wine, and shit.” I saw that he was trying to speak and I laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That’s okay, Xaivier. Um, sure. When?”

“Tonight,” I almost squeak out.

“Hmm. Sure. Lemme get some paper, you can write down your address.”

“Or can I text it to you?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah! That’s right. You can do that now.” He laughs. “I’m too old for this!”

“Yeah. Me too,” I say with a knowing smile.

We exchange numbers, and I text him my address.

“See you then!” He says and I then proceed to freak out.

My boss must’ve noticed to. He makes a comment, “Your face is a tomato, Xaivier. What’s going on?”

“Shut up or I’ll squeeze you and make ketchup.”

He laughs. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll keep letting that go!”

I turned around at that. This shitbag tried to feel me up at work in his office and he’s talking about workplace HR shit to me? Oh hell no.

“Hey, asshole! I quit! Try and get a new AD as good as I am, fucker!” And I flip him off.

He looks shocked as hell, and I pack up my stuff, and leave hastily.

Next problem on the agenda. My mom.

Well... fuck.

Well, fortunately for me, I get a text from Eric later that day.

I was in the middle of talking to my friend Tara, when I suddenly get a buzz notification.

“So, the bastard actually had the gall to say he wouldn’t put up with your shit? Like... seriously, he should be in jail,” Tara said. “Sexual harassment.”

“Well, I told him he would never find an Art Director like me, ever again. But, I should’ve kicked him where the sun don’t shine!”

Tara laughed. “My husband Rick would punch my boss into oblivion if he ever tried half of what yours did.”

“Oh, yeah, he would. Dude is ripped.”

“That’s Rick!” She said proudly. “I’m telling him you said that.”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a damn. But hey, I gotta date tonight. I don’t know what to do. My mom’s going to be here, Tara, so I didn’t exactly think this through when I asked him over.”

“Hmm, who is it, first of all? That cute blonde girl from reception? Or that really good looking Asian guy you always drone on about?”

“I only liked that blonde girl for a few months when I first started at the company. It was really only Eric,” I said as I heard the buzz. “Shit. I just got a text.”

“Okay. I’ll let you see who it is so you can spend two hours texting them back!”

“Oh, haha. That was only back when I first figure out how to work the system!”

“More like three hours!” She laughed and we said goodbye.

I see the text from Eric.

Hey, if you wanna come over for some steaks, I bought a couple extra, and I can grill them any way you like. Sorry to change the plan but I thought it would be nice to barbecue today. Bring beers!

Well, that solves my main problem. The other one is I hate beer.

But, I always had a way to make up shit at the last minute at my job for a tagline, so this shouldn’t be too tough. Right?

I texted him back: Absolutely! Will see you then! Also, I happen to have a bottle of Merlot as well, if you’d like that.

He texted back: Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever tried Merlot. Bring it over!

Not too tough. I decide since he’s being so hospitable I’ll pick up beer too on the way. I make my mom dinner before I go, and tell her about my date.

“Xaivier, thanks for dinner,” She says. It’s nice when she is in these stretches of lucid and calm moods.

“You’re welcome, ma.” I clean up, and then have her relax in the living room. “Hey, ma, I got a couple of things to tell you.”

“Yeah?” She answers, looking at me as she grips her copy of Stephen King’s Nightshift. It was my mom's favorite book to read together with my dad, before he passed away. Especially the story, The Last Rung on the Ladder. That one was my favorite, too.

I was praying she remembered when I came out to her. First, though, I told her what happened with my job.

“Well, shit, Xaivier. I don’t blame you, son. That boss was horrible.”

I nodded. “I had enough of his crap, ma. I’ll find a new job. Soon.”

“That’s not your fault. Shouldn’t be touching you. That’s wrong.”

I sighed. “Ma? Do you remember what I told you... about myself?”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “Hmm? About what?”

“About... that I like... uh...” I looked down, feeling a bit flustered.

“Oh, son, you mean when you told me you liked guys? You have a date, don’t you?” Her dark eyes brightened and her curly dark brown hair bounced a bit. She smiled. I hadn’t seen her smile like that in ages.

“Yes. With this... his name is Eric.”

“Bring the wine, don’t curse, and be a gentleman. Okay?”

“Ma, I don’t curse that much!”

“You can’t fool me, I birthed you. You curse worse than a sailor. Than a pirate. Than a frickin’ lawyer!” She guffawed, and then said, “But so do I. Like mother like son, huh?”

“Shit yeah!”

“Don’t say that shit!” She yelled. But then she smiled. “I love you, son. Have a good date. And tomorrow will be a good day. Cause it’ll be new.”

“I love you, too, ma. Thanks.” I went over to her and kissed the top of her head. “Be back soon.”

“Okay. Have a good night!”

I locked up and left the lights on, leaving to first pick up a pack of Modelo.

When I got to his house, he came from the backyard. “Hey, man, bring that stuff to the yard. I was going to start cooking soon.”

I started internally freaking out. What if he thought this was just a hang out? Not a date? But, I decided that I liked Eric no matter what.

So fucking what? I thought. Eric is cool.

He was wiping off his glasses and then smiled at me as I placed the twenty four pack of Modelo on the grass. I was still holding the bottle of Merlot.

“A Modelo man, huh? That’s a good beer.”

I nodded. But, I actually couldn’t stand the taste of any beer.

I think he could see the look on my face, and he laughed. “Do you like beer?”

I decided to be honest. “No. I only brought it cause you are making steaks.”

He laughed graciously. “Ah, that’s okay. That’s nice of you! I’m sorry though. You didn’t have to buy so much, that’s generous... well, let’s open that wine then and maybe I’ll have a beer or two after dinner. We can have wine together while we eat.” He was prepping the grill, and I could see it was a charcoal grill, and he lit it. “Hey, stand back while it lights!”

I stood back with him and smiled, and said, “You know, the bottle is actually a vintage Merlot from 2002.” I was trying to make conversation.

“I love vintage wine. Though I’m not picky.”

I laughed a little nervously. “I don’t really fucking know what that means. My ma bought it and told me it was vintage.”

He laughed again. “That’s funny. I only know cause I’m studying food pairings. As a hobby. I think it means the year the grapes were picked, and when the wine was made and bottled. Also, I believe that non-vintage is created by mixing harvests of two years or more.”

I nodded. “I never cared much about that stuff. I just drink it. But, it’s interesting. Kind of.”

“You’re pretty honest, huh?” He grinned. “I like that. At least you’re not bullshitting me.” He had some steaks nearby, and it looked really good. Really thick pieces, and the marinade he had it in smelled delicious.

“So, I’m making carne asade. I had the steaks marinading since yesterday. How do you like your steak? I prefer medium rare,” He said as he brought the steaks over toward the hot grill.

“I’ll take it that way. Thanks.” I said. I was just happy I was near him. It was like a dream. A really amazing dream. And he was so cute.

He kept adjusting his glasses, smiling at me with that gorgeous smile, and ahhhh... I felt like a puddle at his feet.

“Hey, Xaivier?” He asked suddenly, as the steaks started sizzling on the grill. It really was a nice day out. Spring was my favorite time of the year.

“Yeah? What up?”

He softly chuckled. “Um, so I heard from your receptionist Marie that you quit. I don’t mean to be impetuous but... is everything okay?”

I shrugged. “Well, impetuous? No. I wouldn’t say that you are impetuous. That would be me. But... I will tell you I quit... well, I quit because of my shitty boss.”

“Man, I’m sorry. What happened?”

I shrugged again. “He was an asshole.”

Eric nodded appreciatively. “I understand. How long did you work there?”

“Ten years.”

“Wow. What will you do now?” He turned the steaks just then. They looked amazing and smelled garlicky, citric, and perfectly seasoned—the way he was cooking it was perfect too. Perfect char and grill marks.

“I don’t know, Eric. I loved my job. I was good at it. I love marketing. I love making shit up. I love the whole process... I just... my boss. Ugh. He definitely won’t write me a letter of recommendation now.” I sighed, and looked at Eric who was actually listening to me intently. I decided to just tell him. “That fucker tried to feel me up one time in his office. I punched him square in the jaw, and he promoted me the next day. It was the crappiest time of my life.”

Eric stopped cooking and looked concerned. He placed his hand on my shoulder. I felt like I getting goosebumps all over my arm.

My face felt hot, too. I knew I was blushing like a fucking school girl.

“I’m so sorry. You should press charges. If not, I understand. Things are always so complicated... and tough. That guy is known to be an ass. It’s just so unbelievable the shit people get away with!” He said almost angrily, and then said, “Anyway, I hope you find something a million times better than that. Wanna open the wine? I have some nice glasses inside.”

We went inside and I asked him about his job.

“I hate my job. Actually, hearing today that you quit, made me wanna quit,” He laughed.

“You work in at that debt collector’s agency, right? I forgot the name.”

“Yeah. I don’t like it. I hate making calls to people asking for money.”

“I’d hate it, too,” I said.

He got a bottle opener and two nice wine glasses from his kitchen.

“Thanks for inviting me over. You have a nice place. Do you live alone?” I asked. I really wanted to know if he was single.

We went back outside, and walked back to the grill.

“No problem. You actually invited me first. I just... wanted to cook for you,” He said softly, and then turned around, checking the steaks. He looked at me again, his cheeks looking a little flushed. “Um, so... again, I’m going to be a bit forward...but, and if I’m wrong or misreading things in any way... I hope we can still be cool...” Eric said, biting his lip.

I saw his face and I realized what he was trying to say. “Eric, are you asking if we’re on a date?”

He nodded, laughing. “Yeah. Thanks for finishing that for me.”

“Yes. We are. Is that what you wanted?” I said immediately.

He sighed happily. “Yes! I mean... yes.”

We both laughed.

“It’s so awkward nowadays. You can’t ask people. And you know? I don’t know. I just work, go out with friends, but I don’t date. I do live alone. I just... ugh. It’s hard,” Eric said, taking the steaks off the grill.

“Yeah. I live with my ma. She’s in the early stages of dementia now. I don’t have many friends. I actually haven’t been on a date in years. Ever since I started this job I was only focused on my career. And my boss made me feel so shitty. So... it was crap.”

“Never let people do that to you. They project their shit on you, and try to make you feel as bad as they do. Bad people never leave good traces, and eventually it’ll catch up to them.” He sighed. “And with your mom.... Living with a family member who has dementia must be so hard. I can’t imagine. Especially it being your mom. I’m sorry. But I’m sure you take good care of her.”

“Thanks, I try.” I opened the wine, and started pouring the wine in the glasses. “So, if you quit, what would you wanna do?” I said as I gave him the glsss of wine.

We clinked our glasses together and both tried it. It was pretty good.

“Thank you,” He said. “That’s very good.” He sighed, looking thoughtful. “Um, a chef. I’d like to cook. Own my own restaurant.”

“That’s ambitious. It’s tough to start any business. A restaurant is really tough. You seem to know what you’re doing, however.”

“Yeah. It’s just... seeing you everyday made it bearable. Even though we didn’t talk much. You know? You’re gone now. It sucks,” Eric said.

I was trying not to jump at the same point, but I couldn’t help it. “That’s the same thing for me! I only kept going cause of you. You and your compliments.”

Eric looked at the ground. “Shit. That was the only way I could summon up the courage to say anything to you. When you asked me out... or when you said you wanted to hang out... I almost had a party when I went back into my cubicle. I was so happy.”

“A party?” I said, amused.

“Yeah. A party by myself. A me party! You know... that song from The Muppets? But it was more of a celebratory moment. I really like you.”

I laughed. “That’s so adorable. That’s so wholesome it makes me wanna not curse.”

He laughed. “Xaivier, you’re fucking funny.”

“Eric, you’re my dream date.”

Suddenly, Eric put his glass of Merlot down next to the steaks, and went over to me.

Roughly, he grabbed my hands, and pulled me close, and we closed the gap.

He kissed me hard.

I fucking loved it, and kissed back.

He started kissing my neck, and trailing up again, we kissed. This time, softer, and more carefully. More gentle, and almost sweet.

We stopped to take a breath, and Eric said, “This date takes the cake. The best first date ever!”

I laughed. “I’ll take cake, if you have any.”

He shook his head, laughing. “Let’s eat.”

We got up and he got our plates ready.

There was carne asade, rice, beans, homemade tortillas and fresh salsa.

“Hey, so the salsa I made is very spicy, and so are the beans.” Eric said, placing the plates on the table outside. “I love hot foods. But I read that whenever you drink Merlot, the capsaicins of spicy foods can accentuate the perception of alcohol in Merlot and make it taste more tannic and bitter. So... hopefully it doesn’t ruin things for you.”

“I didn’t understand that at all. So, you’re fine. I’m going to eat, and I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Eric laughed. “Okay, good.”

We started to eat, and it all was delicious.

“I was reading an article earlier on how to let go. Let go of stress. Like... that’s so fucking easy to do. You know? Life is like a never ending series of dump trucks... dumping their shit on you, you know? It’s just never ending. Sometimes, the trash man will take some of it away. But... it just feels like you’re covered in it most of the time. Like, you are inhaling it like it’s a part of yourself. And everyone pretends it’s not there. But it is.” I sighed. It felt good to say everything I had been holding in for so long.

Eric took a long sip of his glass of Merlot, saying quietly, “Hmm. You know, it’s like, the article represents a bigger social problem, I think... like how much we all have to internalize our true feelings to make everyone feel so fucking comfortable all the time. You can’t let stress go... you can’t just let your life go.” He sighed. “It’s like you just can’t stop and just say, yea, my life is crap. Society doesn’t want you to live in that moment. They want you to move on, and be all happy and shit. It’s gross. That’s how people internalize their sadness and stress until it becomes so exacerbated... they commit suicide or they go insane, and lock themselves up from the world.”

“And we are all complicit with it. We all just go along with it.” I say, shrugging frustratedly.

“Well, its not fair to say that everyone is. I’m sure... you know, it’s 2012. Mental health awareness has gotten better.” Eric says as he smiles at me. I nodded and took a bite of the juicy, tender steak, sipping the wine after.

“My mom was pretty lucid today. More than usual. I actually had a real conversation with her. And she told me tomorrow will be good because it’ll be a new day. I think she’s right.” I leaned forward a bit in my chair. “Like, this reminds me of the book. Nightshift. You know, Stephen King? He doesn’t just write horror. He writes dramas. He writes about families. And this story... it’s my favorite. Well, my ma’s favorite too. And it’s called The Last Rung on the Ladder.” I sighed, hoping I wasn’t boring Eric to death. He was staring at me, and I could tell he was listening. Really listening.

“What’s it about?” He asked.

“About a brother and a sister. How they’d always climb to the top of their barn, and jump off. How it was so thrilling, and how they felt so free when they’d throw themselves off and land on hay. The ladder was real old though, and unsafe. When the younger sister climbs up one day, once she gets to the top, the last rung breaks, and she’s hanging off. The brother tries to quickly gather as much hay beneath her as possible, but she can’t hang on. He tells her to let go. And without a single thought... she does. The hay breaks her fall, and she is fine mostly... but what really shocks the brother is how much his sister trusted him. How she immediately let go. It just... always stuck with me. I always wished to live that way. Free. To feel that free and to have that much trust... it must be very... magnificent.”

Eric looked at me contemplating something. He lifted his glass. “To ultimately being free, and to live each day with that mentality.” We toasted, and finished the whole bottle of Merlot, talking of our new days ahead, together.