Page 33 of Hidden Desires

Gerald grins, oblivious. “My daughter always was a klutz,” he says, and pats me on the back. “You’d think I’d have taught her better.”

I force a laugh, then mumble something about needing to check on the beer situation in the garage. I leave, fast, my heart hammering.

Inside the carport, the air is cool and quiet, the fridge humming in the background. I lean against the door, try to get my pulse under control.

One second. One touch, and it almost came apart.

I stare at the garage door, count to twenty, and then back to zero. I need to get my shit together, or I’m going to lose it all.

When I walk back outside, Nancy’s still watching me like a hawk. She doesn’t say anything, but her face says everything with its narrowed eyes and pinched mouth.

This was supposed to be clandestine.

But it’s all falling apart already.

By seven, the last of the party stragglers have trickled out, leaving behind a landscape of paper plates, bottle caps, and half-deflated soccer balls. The air has cooled, the sun grazing low across the rooftops, and the grill smoke has faded into a memory of meat and lighter fluid.

I volunteer to help Gerald clean up. It’s the least I can do, after partaking generously of the free food and drink. Gerald tosses empty cans into a blue recycling bin, and I collect the folding chairs, stacking them along the fence line.

We work in silence for a while, the easy kind you only get with old friends. But every now and then, Gerald grunts and gives me a look that’s either suspicion or constipation—it’s hard to tell with him.

“So how’s life, Jack?” he says finally, hosing down the grill. “You seeing anyone?”

I pause, play it cool. “Nothing serious,” I say. “Mostly just seeing what’s out there for retired vets, and a little too much time at the gym.”

He snorts. “Well, you look good, my man. Shit, if I had your discipline, maybe Nancy wouldn’t be on my ass about my cholesterol all the time.”

I laugh, stack another chair. “Lipitor is the answer, my friend. Lots of dudes our age are on it these days.”

There’s a lull, then: “You know, Eliza’s not a kid anymore,” he says, voice dropping half a notch.

I freeze, just for a second, but make myself keep working. “Yeah, I noticed,” I say, aiming for casual. “She’s grown up.”

Gerald nods. “It’s weird, isn’t it? One day you’re teaching them how to ride a bike, and the next they’re driving off to college and you can’t remember how it happened.”

He wipes his hands on a rag, staring at the fading sky. “She’s a good kid. Just sometimes, I worry she’s gonna make some dumb mistake, you know?”

I swallow, throat tight. Is my friend warning me off? Does he suspect, and he’s trying to tell me without spelling it out? I smile tightly. “That’s what being young is for. You’re guaranteed to make mistakes at that age.”

Gerald laughs, loud and sudden. “That’s what I said! But Nancy doesn’t see it that way.”

Oh shit, his wife. Honestly, Nancy is a good person, but I can feel it when the ground’s shaky, and nod, keeping my head down. We finish the cleanup, and Gerald heads inside to grab a couple beers from the fridge. I hover by the patio door, not quite ready to leave because I’m still hoping to catch of glimpse of the beautiful girl who lives here.

Then I hear it: Nancy’s voice, sharp as a tack, coming from the kitchen as she speaks with her daughter.

“You and Jack seemed unusually familiar today.”

I stop, beer bottle halfway to my lips, and strain to listen. Inside, Eliza’s voice is softer, but clear.

“He’s dad’s friend, Mom. I was just being polite.”

There’s a pause, the sound of ice clinking in a glass.

“Polite isn’t the same as… whatever that was,” Nancy says.

“Relax,” Eliza replies, a little more edge in her voice. “Jack’s practically an uncle. It’s just weird being the only young woman at these things.”

I exhale, muscles unwinding a notch. She’s good. Better than I am.