And then he waited.
14
He had lost his ever-loving mind. How could he even consider talking to Calix about this? Not that he feared Calix would laugh him out of the room. He would never; that much Rhett knew about him. He was too honorable for that, too kind.
No, Calix wouldn't make fun of him, but once Rhett told him, he would see him differently. Calix had already admitted he didn't treat Rhett the same as others. The words vulnerable and fragile had been mentioned, and while Rhett understood and even appreciated that, he hated it at the same time. Honestly, what man liked to be called fragile? And if he shared what he was considering telling him, that would only get worse.
"Can I get you something to drink? Some liquid courage?" Calix asked.
The second half of that question had been in jest, right? But Calix got up and walked over to a cabinet where he grabbed a bottle of vodka, then took two glasses from a bar cart and dropped a couple of ice cubes in each of them.
"It's not even noon yet," Rhett said, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.
Calix shrugged as he poured a liberal amount of vodka into each glass. "I'm sober three hundred and sixty days out of the year. And by sober, I mean I don't even take a sip. But I've permitted myself five days a year to get drunk, and Thanksgiving is one of them."
Five days. They had to be the difficult days that reminded him of what he'd lost. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Matthew's birthday, probably. Their wedding anniversary. What was the fifth one? It took him a few seconds, but then it hit. Of course. The day of the pride parade.
"You don't trust yourself to drink the rest of the year?" he asked.
Calix sliced a lime, then dumped two wedges into each glass. He put a glass in front of Rhett on the coffee table, then sat down, holding his own glass. "I'm not an alcoholic, but I've always loved a drink. Matthew was the cook, but I worked as a bartender in college and could make the most delicious cocktails. And so I would. I became an amateur vinologist so we'd have wine with dinner. Two glasses, sometimes three. It never became a problem, but after he passed… I got scared."
"Scared you'd come to rely on alcohol…"
Calix nodded. "It would've been so easy to drink away the pain. I knew if I allowed myself, I would. And so I made a pact with myself that I wouldn't drink, except on those five days."
"Smart."
"Self-preservation, really. I'm far from perfect, but one good quality I have is that I know myself pretty well, and I don't walk away from the ugly inside me. Even during the overwhelming pain and grief those first days, I recognized the danger of numbing the pain. Besides, I wanted…no, needed to feel it. It fueled me, and in a way, it still does."
"I have to drive."
"I won't put any pressure on you, and if you prefer I don't drink either, I won't. But if your only reluctance is because you have to drive, we'll call you an Uber, and I can drop off your car tomorrow, or you can come pick it up."
Rhett looked at the glass on the coffee table. He didn't drink much, usually. The occasional glass of wine at dinner, a cold beer on a hot summer day, but that was it. He lifted the glass, then took a small sip. He wasn't a huge fan of those supersweet drinks or cocktails. Even rum was too sweet for him. But this, vodka with lime, was perfect, and he took a bigger swallow.
"This is good stuff," he said.
Calix nipped from his own drink. "I like to splurge on the few days when I allow myself to drink. Some people are a bit of a snob when it comes to food and delicacies, and I am about alcohol. Another reason it's smart to limit my intake."
"I'll be drunk in no time if I keep drinking like this on an empty stomach," Rhett said, studying his glass, which was already half-empty.
"And your point is? It's not like I'll be sober enough to care. Hell, chances are neither of us will remember this in the morning, which may or may not be a good thing."
This dinner…date…whatever wasn't going the way Rhett had expected at all. He'd been nervous about coming here, butterflies swirling in his stomach at the thought of having to make conversation with Calix all day. What if he ran out of topics? What if Calix found him a boring conversational partner? What if he fucked up the food, and it came out tasting horrible? The list of possible disasters was endless.
But in none of those scenarios had he ever considered alcohol might play a role, but it seemed strangely fitting. "I don't want more than two glasses before we eat."
Calix nodded. "Okay. I can help you with that. You know what? I'll adjust to your pace. Now, back to what we were talking about. You wanted to ask me something. Something personal. What was it?"
Rhett didn't know if it was the alcohol already in his system or the fact that at-home Calix felt like a different man than work Calix, but for some reason, he'd lost his nerves. "When you said you weren't ready to move on yet, did you mean with a new relationship?"
"A new relationship, dating, anything. It's not that I feel it would be a betrayal to Matthew. I'm rational enough to realize that, crude as it sounds, he's dead. Nothing will bring him back, and he would want me to be happy. It's just that I don't want to. I don't want anybody in his place. Even the thought makes me tired. I'd left all that behind me, you know? Dating, trying to figure out if somebody was a good fit for me. All those firsts, all those doubts, that whole process you go through before you realize this is it, this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. I'd done that, and I can't do it again."
Although Rhett had no experience whatsoever with relationships, he could understand Calix's reasoning. Wasn't it the same as what he felt, this weariness to start the whole process? "I know what you mean."
Calix sipped from his drink, then cocked his head as he studied Rhett. "Were you in a relationship at the time of the bombing?"
Right. Of course Calix would jump to that conclusion. Now what did he do? Lie? Bluff his way out of this? Or did he come clean? "No." His voice was soft. "In fact, I've never been in a relationship."
Calix frowned. "You mean in a serious relationship. I assume you've dated."
Rhett swallowed, then shook his head. "Nope. Just never met someone who piqued my interest enough. And then the bombing happened, and…that was it."
Calix slowly put his glass down on the table. "Are you telling me—and don't get me wrong, I’m not judging you—that you've never had sex?"
His cheeks were so hot Rhett didn't even want to imagine how he looked. "Yes, I'm a virgin."
Calix blinked. "Oh. Okay. Wasn't expecting that, but power to you. At least, I assume it was by choice?"
"Not really. It's not like that when I was sixteen, I decided to stay a virgin for sixteen more years. It just…happened. Or I should say it didn't happen. Sex, I mean. Sex never happened. I didn't meet guys who seemed worthy of spending that first night with, I guess. I probably should've just hooked up in the bathroom of some club and gotten it over with. After all, virginity is a social construct and all that…"
He'd added those last words, hoping to at least get a chuckle out of Calix, but the man's expression stayed serious. "No. If you didn't feel anyone was a worthy choice, then you did the right thing. Virginity may be something our society has placed too much value on, but that doesn't mean it's wrong if you don't want to give it away too easily. The choice to save it for someone you feel is worth it is a legitimate one."