Walk With Me Part 10

I felt my cheeks warming. "Yes."

"But now?"

Knowing I had to be honest with myself was one thing. Actually being honest with myself was something harder. Being honest about my feelings with someone else? I felt shaky.

"Seth?" Micah pulled into the restaurant parking lot. "You met a guy who's more than hot. Is that it?"

He parked the car and then twisted around to look at me.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

"What's the problem? Is it that you're scared to be with a man? Is he straight? What?"

"No." I shook my head. "It's neither of those things." I paused. "Okay, maybe I'm a little anxious about being with a man, but I think I could deal with it if I knew it was going to work out. But-" I gulped and barged ahead with my confession. "This guy? He's barely out of his teens." I paused and examined Micah's expression, expecting to find shock or disgust, but he didn't react at all to what I considered a big announcement. I cleared my throat and continued listing my concerns. "What if I jump in and he realizes I'm too old for him, or he decides he needs to sow some more wild oats, or-"

"So you're looking for an up-front guarantee, is that it?" Micah asked.

"When you say it like that it sounds silly, but-"

"If it sounds that way, it's only because it is is silly," he said firmly. "Let me ask you a question." He looked me straight in the face. "Did you have the same expectation with the women you dated?" silly," he said firmly. "Let me ask you a question." He looked me straight in the face. "Did you have the same expectation with the women you dated?"

I blinked in surprise. "Well, no, but that's different."

"Because they're women?"

"No!"

"Then what? How is it different?"

It was a fair question. "Fine," I admitted. "One part is because he's a guy. Dating him means everyone knows I'm with a guy, which isn't a problem if it works out. But if it doesn't-"

"You're marked for life with the scarlet G letter?" Micah asked sarcastically.

"Yes." I nodded. He opened his mouth, but I kept talking. "And before you lay into me, let me remind you of something. I'm not gay, Micah." His mouth slammed shut. "I've never been a player. I only ask someone out if I think there could be something real there. The biggest problem I've had is finding someone I can be really serious about, you know? But that's what I want. I want the forever person. It's hard enough to find a woman... a person who fits that. But if women know I was with a guy, then they'll all a.s.sume I'm gay and ashamed, or that I'll go back to guys eventually, or that I'll cheat." I paused and peered at him. "Tell me how I'll find a wife with all that on the table. You might not think labels matter, but in some ways they do do matter." matter."

His nostrils flared and he nodded. "Okay, I hear you. I haven't been in your position, so I hadn't thought of it that way. First off, I know I'm not ready for anything serious. But when that time comes-if that time comes-it'll be with a man." Micah rubbed his hand across his nose and sighed. "All right, let me ask you this. You said dating this man will create problems if you want to date women after, but you also said none of the women you dated were people you could get serious about. So how do you know you wouldn't want to date men if it doesn't work out with him? Maybe the reason you couldn't get serious about women is because-"

I dragged my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Do you see what I mean? Even you're doing it. I told you I'm into one guy and you're a.s.suming that means I couldn't ever really be into women. Micah." I looked into his eyes. "I'm not gay."

"Right." He nodded. "I'm sorry. Okay, so let's go over the facts." He was such a lawyer. "One: you're attracted to women. You've dated them and it was good but not great." He paused and looked at me, presumably waiting for agreement. I nodded. "Two: you're attracted to men but you haven't dated them." He paused again, waiting for my nod before continuing. "Which brings me to three: you're worried about this now for the first time." He squinted at me. "Why is that?"

"Uh, because this is the first time it's come up," I answered.

"But you said you've always found men attractive in the same way you find women attractive, right?"

How had I landed in the middle of a cross-examination? Oh, yeah, I went to a lawyer for advice. "Yes, but I also told you what I want is a serious relations.h.i.+p-a wife or a, uh, life partner. I'm not going to feel that way about every person who happens to be attractive."

He smirked. "That's my point. You're thinking about the issues surrounding being with a man for the first time in your life, and yet you say the feelings you have for men have always been there. That tells me there's something different about the way you feel about this this man, the twenty-year-old. Whatever's going on with him must be different." He arched his eyebrows. "Am I right?" man, the twenty-year-old. Whatever's going on with him must be different." He arched his eyebrows. "Am I right?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. That much I knew. "n.o.body has ever made me feel the way I do when I'm with him."

"But you're worried he's too young to be serious and if you take a chance and things don't work out, you'll be screwed for life."

I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that, but the bottom line was the same. "Yes, that's one of the things I'm worried about."

"What're the other things?"

I chewed on my bottom lip. "What if I I decide it's not right?" I let out a deep breath and looked out the window. "Thinking a guy on TV is cute is one thing. How do I know I can actually, uh, date a man?" decide it's not right?" I let out a deep breath and looked out the window. "Thinking a guy on TV is cute is one thing. How do I know I can actually, uh, date a man?"

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? Like you're worried if you can get it up with him?"

Micah's frankness caught me off guard and I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut. "Not exactly," I said, thinking about my physical reactions to Eli and knowing erections weren't going to be a problem.

"Well, then, what?"

"I don't know." I really didn't. "I guess it's just that I've never done this before, and he's so young and-" I sighed and whispered, "I don't want to hurt him, Micah. I care about this guy. I care about him a lot. He's made it clear that he wants us to be together. If I say yes and then I change my mind...." I shook my head. "I can't do that to him."

"All right, so to summarize, you want to be with him but you're worried he'll change his mind and render you undateable, and you're worried you'll try it and decide you can't actually be with a man."

"Yes. You've managed to narrow my biggest life crisis into two sentences."

"It was one sentence."

I snorted. "That's helpful, Micah."

"Look, n.o.body can guarantee anything in life, least of all that a relations.h.i.+p is going to work out. So as far as the first problem, you're just going to have to decide if the possibility of being with this guy for the long haul is worth the fallout if you give it a chance and it goes south."

I nodded in agreement with his a.s.sessment.

"As far as the second problem, I say you try to find another man you might want to date. I don't mean someone you're serious about, like this guy, but someone you can spend a little time with and see if those attractions of yours can coalesce into something more tangible."

"Is that a fancy way of telling me I should hook up with someone?"

"I didn't realize I was being fancy."

I chuckled and punched his shoulder. "Thanks, Micah. I'll think about it."

"So you're good?"

I nodded.

"Great. Let's go eat."

I THOUGHT THOUGHT a lot about Micah's advice over the next few months, but I couldn't date anybody in Emile City without risking people at work finding out about it, so that was off the table. Then in September, I went to a wedding in New York. One of my cla.s.smates from rabbinical school was marrying a doctor who worked with a really bright, really cute blond guy. a lot about Micah's advice over the next few months, but I couldn't date anybody in Emile City without risking people at work finding out about it, so that was off the table. Then in September, I went to a wedding in New York. One of my cla.s.smates from rabbinical school was marrying a doctor who worked with a really bright, really cute blond guy.

We met at the rehearsal dinner on Sat.u.r.day, sat next to each other at the wedding on Sunday, spent most of the reception talking, and then went out to the bars Sunday night. I'm not sure making out with someone at the edge of a dance floor counted as a hookup, but by the time my flight left LaGuardia, I felt confident being with Eli wouldn't be a problem on my end. It turned out I enjoyed touching hard planes and muscles just as much as soft curves and b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

But even with that concern lifted, I remained worried that Eli's age, and the fact that he was still in college and living out of state, meant a relations.h.i.+p with him would be too risky. So I kept talking to him on the phone, writing him, and spending time with him whenever he came home, but I made sure not to give him any indication that I could be interested in anything other than his friends.h.i.+p.

Chapter 8.

Seth Cohen.

"RABBI!" A panicked voice sounded outside my office along with rapid footsteps. I was a few hours away from officiating a wedding. This one was at Temple Beth Shalom, and the guests wouldn't be arriving for another hour, so I was getting some work done. "Rabbi, are you in there?" panicked voice sounded outside my office along with rapid footsteps. I was a few hours away from officiating a wedding. This one was at Temple Beth Shalom, and the guests wouldn't be arriving for another hour, so I was getting some work done. "Rabbi, are you in there?"

"I'm right here." I stood up and stepped toward the door. "What's going-"

"Oh, thank goodness!" the bride said as she rushed into my office. She bent at the waist, rested her hands on her knees, and gasped for air. "I need your help. Brad is freaking out and you're our only hope of calming him down."

Inside my head I heard, "Help me, Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi; you're my only hope." Brooke even looked a little like Princess Leia right then because her hair was up in curlers and she was wearing a white bath robe.

I grabbed my new suit jacket and slipped it on. "What's going on?"

She straightened, grasped my elbow, and tugged me out of my office. "Brad's family, that's what's going on. They're nuts, the lot of them." She paused and looked up at me, wide-eyed. "Don't tell anyone I said that. I don't want them to hate me."

"I won't," I a.s.sured her.

The bride had grown up in the congregation, but the groom had moved to Emile City with her after college, so I knew nothing about his family.

"What happened?" I asked as we walked toward the preschool rooms. We used them as dressing areas when we held weddings in the sanctuary.

"Well, you know his sister Marilyn is this aspiring singer, right?" No, I didn't, but I kept that information to myself. "So when we told his parents we were going to have someone sing during the c.o.c.ktail hour, they said he should ask her to do it. Brad was against it from the start. He said her voice isn't very good and that she's a flake, but then his parents got mad and I didn't want to have wedding drama, so I told him to let it go. Well, he let it go and now-"

"Because there's nowhere to put up a stripper pole, Marilyn! We're in a synagogue."

I came to a halt outside of the groom's room and slowly turned my head toward the bride.

"Do you see?" she asked. Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled. "I told my parents I couldn't find my favorite lipstick and I had to have it just so they'd go to the mall to buy me another one. Brad will be so embarra.s.sed if they see his family acting like this."

"Okay." I patted her arm. "It'll be fine."

We walked into the room and saw Brad standing in front of a woman I gathered was his sister. She was next to a long metal pole leaning against the wall. A man and woman in their early fifties were beside them. I a.s.sumed they were Brad's parents.

"It's not a stripper pole!" Marilyn shouted as she pointed to what sure looked to be a stripper pole. "It's a prop."

"You're supposed to be singing," Brad's mother said. "Why do you need a prop?"

"And what in the h.e.l.l are you wearing?" Brad added.

"Brad!" his father snapped. "Don't talk to your sister that way."

"Why not?" he yelled. "She's wearing clear five-inch heels, for f.u.c.k's sake. You know what they say about girls in clear heels?"

Marilyn squinted her eyes dangerously. "If you have a problem with the way I look, blame your girlfriend. She made me wear this horrible color!"

"It's purple, Marilyn," Brad's mother said. "She asked us to wear purple because the wedding colors are purple and gold. She let us pick our own dresses. Anything we wanted." She raised her hand in her daughter's direction and moved it up and down. "And this is what you chose?"

"What're you saying, Mom?" Marilyn asked.

"She's saying you look like a wh.o.r.e!" Brad yelled.

Whoa. That snapped me out of my shock. "Hi," I said as I stepped forward, making the Barton family aware of the fact that they weren't alone. "I'm Rabbi Cohen. I don't think we've met yet."

"Now isn't a great time, Rabbi," Brad said. "We're working out some issues."

"Uh, Brad," Brooke said hesitantly as she approached her fiance. "I thought maybe Rabbi Cohen could help us, um, figure things out."

"Oh look, Sandy's here," Marilyn sneered.

"It's, um, Brooke," Brooke said quietly, her eyes lowered.

"It was a theatrical reference," Marilyn snapped. "I guess people who aren't in the business wouldn't get it."

"Screw you, Mare. I got your reference just fine!" Brad curled his arm protectively around Brooke. "And taking your clothes off for money doesn't mean you're in the theater business!" he yelled.

"What did you say to me?" Marilyn flared her nostrils and tightened her fists.

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it," I said, stepping between them and trying to de-escalate the situation.

"Don't stick up for him, Rabbi. He knows what he said." She flipped her hair over her shoulder, darted her gaze around the room until it landed on a purse in the corner, and then stomped over to it. "You know what? I don't need this. You have your perfect wedding with your perfect girlfriend. I'm out of here."

"Marilyn!" her mother said in horror. "You can't leave. It's your brother's wedding."

"Oh please." She rolled her eyes. "Like you care." She shoved her way past us and stomped out of the room.

"Bruce," Brad's mother said as she turned to her husband. "Talk to her. She'll listen to you."

He grunted and followed his daughter.

"Just great!" Brad shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "Now we're stuck without a singer."

"Um, honey," his mother said. "Maybe if you go after her and apologize, she'll-"

"No." He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Honestly, Brad, what did you expect her to do with the way you were talking to her?" his mother asked reasonably.

"How was I supposed to talk to her, Mom? She's been insulting Brooke from the minute she stepped off the plane, and there's no reason for it! Brooke's been nothing but nice to her. She even put together a basket with all of Marilyn's favorite things and had it waiting in her hotel room." He looked down at his bride and his eyes softened. "I couldn't take another minute of her giving Brooke dirty looks and making snide remarks."

"Brad," his mother sighed. "You know your sister's just jealous."