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Authors: Jamie Mayfield
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surprised to see that it was early afternoon. If I couldn’t call until after five, that would certainly give me enough time to get back to the hotel, pick up a pizza from the place next door, and maybe even watch a little television. I could always come back to the library if that place had been taken, but strangely, I had a good feeling about it.
Putting the newspaper back on the rack, I gathered up my things, thanked the lady at the desk, and set off for the trolley station. The reverse trip was easy, and after fifteen minutes, I found myself back at the Roadview Inn. I saw the sign for the pizza place as I stepped off the trolley onto the sidewalk, and my stomach growled in approval. If Mexican was my favorite cuisine, then pizza was a very close second.
I ordered a large sausage, mushroom, green pepper, and onion pizza with a big bottle of soda; any leftovers could just go into the refrigerator in my room. Looking around the tiny restaurant, I was surprised at the small number of booths clustered in front of the windows, and realized they must only specialize in carryout orders. The hot guy behind the counter told me it would be about twenty-five minutes before the pizza would be ready to go. I sat down in the first booth to wait, watching as he continually brushed his black, curly hair from his eyes. The muscles under his white T-shirt bulged when he carried a box to the back. As he rounded the corner on his way back to the counter, he caught me staring. I blushed and looked away. Rather than watching the clock or the guy behind the counter, I put my cheek on the palm of my hand and watched people scurry past the window.
The kid behind the counter called my name and interrupted my people-watching. I picked up the pizza, and it wasn’t until I was ready to walk through the front doors of the hotel that I remembered the desk clerk’s proposition. I hoped he wouldn’t be at the desk when I came in because not only did I not know how I felt about his flirting, I also didn’t want things to be awkward. Carrying the pizza into the lobby, I glanced over at the desk and noticed it was empty. Making a break for the elevator, I glanced over my shoulder a few times. I’m not sure why the guy had made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was because of the way my body reacted to his suggestion, or the complete freedom I had to act on it.
I ate quickly, enjoying the sweet sauce and nearly overwhelmed by the volume of green peppers. Back home, ordering out for pizza had been a treat. To Carolyn, takeout was like cheating, but Jamie’s mom hadn’t taken that approach. Apparently saving the world took away from her cooking time, so I’d had pizza much more often when I stayed with them.
Forced to wait until evening to call about the room I really wanted, I placed a few of the other calls from my list, but my effort was halfhearted. Of course, I would need a backup, though once I had seen that the ad said “gay men only,” my focus had narrowed considerably. It was obvious that person wouldn’t hate me; in fact, they were looking for someone like me. I had no idea why and guessed they could have an ulterior motive but decided to have faith. It was stupid, but all my life I’d wanted so desperately to belong somewhere. I hoped this was my chance.
Only one of the rooms I called about was available, and I made an appointment with the woman to see it the next day but hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. It was the only vacancy I’d found in a week.
Looking at my bedside clock again, I started to feel restless in the room. I wanted to get a place to live so I could find a job. Where I lived would be a huge determining factor in where I could work, so I couldn’t exactly start picking up job applications. I thought about going outside and walking around, but I just stood at the window instead. After the attack last year, I didn’t like to be around people very much.
I turned on the television after throwing myself down on the bed. In
Putting the newspaper back on the rack, I gathered up my things, thanked the lady at the desk, and set off for the trolley station. The reverse trip was easy, and after fifteen minutes, I found myself back at the Roadview Inn. I saw the sign for the pizza place as I stepped off the trolley onto the sidewalk, and my stomach growled in approval. If Mexican was my favorite cuisine, then pizza was a very close second.
I ordered a large sausage, mushroom, green pepper, and onion pizza with a big bottle of soda; any leftovers could just go into the refrigerator in my room. Looking around the tiny restaurant, I was surprised at the small number of booths clustered in front of the windows, and realized they must only specialize in carryout orders. The hot guy behind the counter told me it would be about twenty-five minutes before the pizza would be ready to go. I sat down in the first booth to wait, watching as he continually brushed his black, curly hair from his eyes. The muscles under his white T-shirt bulged when he carried a box to the back. As he rounded the corner on his way back to the counter, he caught me staring. I blushed and looked away. Rather than watching the clock or the guy behind the counter, I put my cheek on the palm of my hand and watched people scurry past the window.
The kid behind the counter called my name and interrupted my people-watching. I picked up the pizza, and it wasn’t until I was ready to walk through the front doors of the hotel that I remembered the desk clerk’s proposition. I hoped he wouldn’t be at the desk when I came in because not only did I not know how I felt about his flirting, I also didn’t want things to be awkward. Carrying the pizza into the lobby, I glanced over at the desk and noticed it was empty. Making a break for the elevator, I glanced over my shoulder a few times. I’m not sure why the guy had made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was because of the way my body reacted to his suggestion, or the complete freedom I had to act on it.
I ate quickly, enjoying the sweet sauce and nearly overwhelmed by the volume of green peppers. Back home, ordering out for pizza had been a treat. To Carolyn, takeout was like cheating, but Jamie’s mom hadn’t taken that approach. Apparently saving the world took away from her cooking time, so I’d had pizza much more often when I stayed with them.
Forced to wait until evening to call about the room I really wanted, I placed a few of the other calls from my list, but my effort was halfhearted. Of course, I would need a backup, though once I had seen that the ad said “gay men only,” my focus had narrowed considerably. It was obvious that person wouldn’t hate me; in fact, they were looking for someone like me. I had no idea why and guessed they could have an ulterior motive but decided to have faith. It was stupid, but all my life I’d wanted so desperately to belong somewhere. I hoped this was my chance.
Only one of the rooms I called about was available, and I made an appointment with the woman to see it the next day but hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. It was the only vacancy I’d found in a week.
Looking at my bedside clock again, I started to feel restless in the room. I wanted to get a place to live so I could find a job. Where I lived would be a huge determining factor in where I could work, so I couldn’t exactly start picking up job applications. I thought about going outside and walking around, but I just stood at the window instead. After the attack last year, I didn’t like to be around people very much.
I turned on the television after throwing myself down on the bed. In
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