Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2001 20:55:58 -0800
From: David Cross <dcross1@home.com>
Subject: the-dance-of-death 4

The usual disclaimers apply. If you're reading this and it's not legal for
you to do so, or you don't want to, then by all means close your browser
window. A note - this is entirely fictional.

Dear readers: Thank you for the e-mails! I have gotten some good ideas for
last names for our trio of characters. Also, apologies for taking so long
on this part. Writer's block sucks. But am unblocked now.

The Dance of Death - Part 4
===========================

As I sat at the "Out on Campus" table for the noon to two PM shift on
Thursday afternoon, I noted that Jeffrey had arrived at nearly the same
time as I. I nodded a greeting, and quickly got organized. Barely a minute
after I had made sure of the names and availability of all our brochures
and pamphlets, a shy-looking woman who looked to be about 25 walked up and
inquired about whether "Out on Campus" included transgendered people. I
took a gamble and gamely replied, "Why, yes, we do. If you'll just take one
of these brochures, please. It tells who we are in more detail, and where
we meet every week." She smiled lukewarmly, took the pamphlet and quickly
disappeared.

I looked over at Jeffrey, who appeared to be stifling a giggle. "Oh, and
what was so funny about that, mister?" I playfully nudged his shoulder and
he said, "Daniel, she probably couldn't tell, but I could - you looked like
a deer caught in a car's headlights!" I had to giggle a bit as I knew I had
been caught out by an odd (to me, anyway) request. A thought occurred to
me. "Hey, Jeffrey. I feel kind of stupid mentioning this, but I never did
get your last name."

He grinned. "Katzenberg. Jeffrey Katzenberg." He held out his hand in a
formal manner.

"Whitman. Daniel Whitman." Equally formally, I shook his hand.

"So, Mr. Whitman, what are you doing tonight?"

I was stuck for an answer. "Um, well... nothing, really. Quiet night, you
know?" I shrugged.

"Aw, c'mon. That's no fun. Come over to my apartment, willya? I haven't had
anybody over to even look at it yet, so this means I get to hold a
mini-housewarming." He winked and mimed drinking a beer.

I didn't know whether to accept or not. Jeffrey certainly wouldn't mean me
any harm, but I still felt skittish about this. A counterargument occurred
to me. "Tell you what. You come over to my place tonight, and I'll visit
your place tomorrow. How's that?"

He looked somewhat abashed, but brightened up when I said I'd visit his
place on Friday night. "Deal. Gimme five!" And so saying, he held up his
hand for the high-five, which I returned. He smiled warmly, and put his
hand on my shoulder for just a second, then withdrew it. The same strange
heat I had felt when I first shook hands with him at the Out on Campus
meeting again radiated from his hand. It was oddly comforting, and yet
unfamiliar...

=-=-=-=

At two PM, we had finished, and amazingly enough, we only had a few dirty
looks pointed at us the entire time, and most of the people who came up
were honestly curious about what the group was all about.

The replacement crew had arrived, and Jeffrey and I quickly vacated our
spots to allow them to be subjected to the benign glare of the populace.

We mingled with the crowd quickly, and I realized that I needed to check in
with Jonathan, to let him know that I was bringing a guest over. I dug a
quarter from my pocket and started looking for a pay phone. Just before
dashing to it, I said, "Hey, Jeffrey, can you wait here a sec?"

He replied, "Sure."

I shoved the quarter into the slot and dialled the apartment number. After
three rings, the recorded message played. "Hi. Jonathan and Daniel aren't
in right now, but if you'd like to leave a message for either of them,
please do so after the beep." The obligatory *BEEEP* rang in my ears and I
wondered why answering machines always had to be that loud. "Jonathan, it's
me. I'm bringing a friend over for a bit and I was hoping it wouldn't be
too much trouble for you to prep dinner for three, instead of two. Thanks!"

I resumed walking towards the bus depot with Jeffrey, and he inquired, "Who
did you have to call?"

I realized I'd forgotten to mention I had a roommate. "Oh, just my
roommate. His name's Jonathan Walker. He's a great cook, so I was letting
him know there'd be an extra plate for dinner."

Jeffrey sputtered and finally got out, "You don't need to do--"

I broke in with, "Jeffrey, relax. It's not like I'm bringing over the whole
Out on Campus group for dinner!"

He still seemed uncertain. "It feels like I'm imposing or something."

"Well, if Jonathan really doesn't want to cook, that's fine. We'll order in
or something."

At that, Jeffrey seemed relieved. I marvelled again at the way his entire
body somehow seemed to reflect his emotional state. His eyes would twinkle
and his whole body would radiate warmth when he was happy; when he was
upset, his eyes went flat and his body would become stiff.

I remarked, "Anyway, we'd better get moving if we're going to catch the bus
in time."

We began walking briskly to the bus depot, and not long after, the bus
pulled up to admit passengers for the first stage of the journey to
downtown Vancouver...

=-=-=-=

An hour later, we stared up at the tower that I claimed a small portion of
as my home. Jeffrey just boggled and said, "You live way up there?!" I
laughed and said, "Yep. The real deal. C'mon, let's get inside."

The elevator deposited us on the correct floor, and I guided Jeffrey to the
apartment I shared with Jonathan. I opened the door, and as soon as we were
inside, he made a beeline for the window to take in the view. "Wow!" he
exclaimed. "Nice view you got here!"

"The advantages of living near Stanley Park, off Georgia and Thurlow." I
couldn't help but brag a bit. "Anyway, want the nickel tour?"

"Okay. Lead on, O king!"

I showed him around - there really wasn't all that much to see to begin
with. Jonathan's bedroom, mine, the shared bathroom, the dining room, with
the home entertainment center against one wall that ended at the window and
the couch against the other wall, and finally the kitchen.

We sat down on the futon in my bedroom and chatted about our respective
apartments. Jeffrey seemed troubled when I gave vague answers as to why I
hadn't accumulated much in the way of material possessions. My answer that
my parents and I weren't on good speaking terms mollified him a bit, but he
still seemed to be worried about the secrets I held close to my chest. The
conversation drifted somewhat, but some of his other questions also
required necessarily vague answers.

He opened his mouth and seemed about to ask another question when the
rattle of a key in a lock indicated Jonathan was home. I sprang off my
futon, relieved to escape Jeffrey's well-intentioned but possibly dangerous
line of questioning. As the apartment door swung open, I said, "Hi,
Jonathan! Did you pick up the message I left you on the answering machine?"

He replied, "Yup. I sure did, and it's no problem for your friend to eat
here as long as he appreciates my culinary skills." He mock-glared at
Jeffrey, and his glance asked the question I was ready to answer.

"Jeffrey, this is my roommate and resident cook, Jonathan Walker. And
Jonathan, Jeffrey Katzenberg. We met at the SFU group, 'Out on Campus'."

They shook hands, and then Jonathan showed me the telephone bill and said,
"Jeffrey, would you excuse us just a minute? I need to talk to Daniel about
roommate stuff. Bills, you know..." Jeffrey, although as confused as I was,
nodded and said, "I'll just wait out here."

In Jonathan's room, I said, "If this is about that one call I tried to make
to my parents--"

He cut me off and spoke in a low voice. "No, it's not that. I just needed
an excuse. Look, you've never brought anybody over before. Is he all
right?"

I wasn't sure what he was getting at, but I replied in an equally low
voice, "He's just fine. He's a friend and we've gotten to know each other
fairly well. He's not Joshua, you know, even if he is gay."

Jonathan sighed and looked me squarely in the eye. "Ok, Daniel. I trust
you, but if he hurts you, I won't let him forget it."

"Thanks for looking out for me, but trust me, he's just fine."

We stepped out of the room and apologized for the delay. Jeffrey just
shrugged that off and said, "Don't worry about it."

Jonathan then cleared his throat and asked Jeffrey what foods he liked, et
cetera. They talked back and forth for a bit and I noticed that Jonathan
seemed a little on edge, almost as though he were going through the motions
of being a good host, when in reality he was acting almost as though he had
had a girlfriend bring another guy over. Could Jonathan really have
unrequited feelings for me? I supposed such a thing was not unheard of, but
this could really screw things up with Jeffrey...

The question of whether anything had to be avoided in Jeffrey's food was
settled - it turned out his diet was similar to almost any Canadian's
standard intake; no allergies of any kind, and no aversion to any
foods. Jonathan then mentioned he was starting dinner and that it would be
about half an hour to an hour to finish cooking. With a flourish, he donned
his apron, and started a beef stew with rice as a side dish.

=-=-=-=

Dinner was excellent, as usual. The slight undercurrent of tension I had
detected between Jonathan and Jeffrey all but vanished as the conversation,
while limited, meandered over nothing controversial. I had to chuckle
inside when Jonathan tried to look modest as Jeffrey raved about the
cooking, though. Apparently macaroni and cheese could get a little boring
when living on one's own.

As the plates were cleaned up, Jeffrey noticed the time, and said, "I kind
of hate to say this, guys, but... I've gotta get going. Homework and
stuff." He grinned.

Jonathan said, "Ok. Glad you liked supper, though. See you later, then." He
briefly shook hands with Jeffrey and got to cleaning the dishes.

I escorted Jeffrey to the door after waiting for him to get his shoes and
coat on, and as my hand touched the handle, I felt Jeffrey's hand enclose
mine. I looked up, startled, and I saw him blushing at the realization that
he'd accidentally grabbed my hand in reaching for the door handle
himself. I withdrew my hand, but not before savoring the warmth that
emanated from his. I spoke quietly. "It was good having you here, and I
promise to visit your apartment tomorrow, too."

Jeffrey nodded, pleased, and replied, "Will do. Want to get my address now
or do you want me to escort you over from university?"

"I'll meet up with you at university and you can bring me over."

"Mm-hmm. Safe move. Wouldn't want me giving you a fake address and
marooning you in the streets." He giggled at his own joke, but I didn't
think it was that funny. He noticed, and gave me an apologetic look. "Look,
Daniel... if I was out of line with that--"

I shook my head no. "I just didn't find it that funny, but now is not the
time to explain why. I'll see you tomorrow by the bookstore, about.. um,
three?"

"That works for me. Seeya!"

I grabbed the door as he opened it. I lamely said, "Wait - do you know how
to get back from here?"

"Don't worry. I'll be fine." Jeffrey smiled, then reached out and touched
my elbow. I felt a strange tingle go up and down my spine.

I released the door, and stepped back to allow Jeffrey to exit the
apartment. I then closed and locked the door, and reentered the kitchen to
find Jonathan staring into space. I cleared my throat, and he looked at me,
momentarily surprised. He said, "Oops. Um, how long have I been standing
there looking like a statue?"

"Not that long, I don't think. Are you Ok?"

Jonathan nodded. "I'm fine, really." He still looked kind of out of it,
though.

I shrugged and went into my bedroom, preparing to turn in for the night.

=======

That ends part 4.