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His hand shook badly, so much so that he splashed a bit of the Maker’s Mark on the counter. It began to dawn on me that he was every bit as nervous and angst-ridden about Marci being with me as I was about him and Alli! I hadn’t expected him to be immune to emotions, of course, but I also hadn’t thought for a moment that he might be as ambivalent as I was. I nudged him with my elbow. “Buddy, you okay?” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. This is fucking weird, man. We were so looking forward to getting together with you and Alli, but now that we’re here… well, I just don’t know. You guys kissing…” “I know what you mean. We don’t have to do this, you know.” He shook his head. “No, we want to, and Marci would be very disappointed if you and she don’t… well you know.” I nodded. “I know. And Alli too, I’m sure – and me too – but we all need to be on board. You know, Alli and I talked about this, but we kind of got ahead of ourselves and we forgot to talk about it with. The conversation played again through his head as he stepped out onto the boardwalk. He took a left on Main Street and made his way back to his home on the Upper West Side of the island. He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath as he walked up to the two-story stone dwelling, a remodeled remnant of Spanish occupation. A sudden breeze sent a shiver down his spine as he fumbled for his keys. He jammed the brass one into the lock and twisted the handle. A wall of cold air and the scent of sandalwood washed over him as he opened the door. Setting his keys on the long table by the door, he unbuttoned his shirt and walked to the phone. He pressed #2 on the phone, the number of the Chinese take-out place a couple of blocks away. ‘Hi Robert, can I get the chicken lo mien tonight? Delivery please. Thanks.’ He hung up the phone and stepped into his bathroom, stripping off the pale blue shirt along the way. He tossed it into the hamper and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his.
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