There are many sayings that the humans use that I enjoy—indeed, some of my brothers and sisters have commented that I use their language far too often. But they have a way with words. One of the things I appreciate the most is the phrase “the moment of truth.” This is used to describe a time when, after much delay or avoidance, the time comes for a problem to be faced, or for a person to prove themselves.
For Ted and Cole, the moment of truth arrived today.
I’ve known for some time that the encounter was coming. Cole called just a few days ago and told Ted that he would be passing not too far from Ted’s home town on his way to join his family for Christmas. He asked Ted if they could meet for lunch. Ted was agreeable, but he wondered, and so did I, if Cole had some underlying purpose for this meeting. Even before the invitation was issued, however, I knew that this must come up sooner or later. Cole and Ted have kept in touch since they renewed their friendship, but while both have been happy to be in contact, Cole has pressed into their conversations while Ted has continued to hold back. I wondered if Cole would get the message, but it seemed not. Or perhaps his hope was too great to allow him to surrender easily.
Whatever the case, they met for lunch this afternoon, at a nice restaurant midway between the nearest highway and Ted’s house. They greeted one another with an embrace, and immediately they settled into conversation, about plans for Christmas, their various families, and their general thoughts about the season.
It wasn’t until after the food had come and gone that Cole sighed and leaned over the table. “So I have a confession to make,” he said.
“That sounds ominous,” Ted said.
Cole smiled, but he also shook his head. “It might be, depending on what you say next. See, I haven’t been up front with you, Ted. The fact is that Ian and I are not together anymore, and we haven’t been for a while.”
Ted lowered his glass to the table, keeping his eyes on it so that he would not have to meet Cole’s gaze. He’d suspected this, but had not wanted to press Cole if he did not want to talk about it—and he has not wanted to. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Cole shrugged. “It is what it is. We were all right for a while, but it wouldn’t have lasted. And I’m beginning to think that I need to be more careful, if I’m going to find something that will last.” Keeping his eyes on Ted’s face, he added, “I think I need to start with someone who is a friend to me, and then move on into something more.”
Ted considered this, and I watched him closely as he did. I know that he has been happy with Elaine, but he had been attached to Cole first, and I was not certain if that attachment remained.
I am certain now.
“Look, I know you’re with Elaine, and I will respect that,” Cole said when Ted stayed silent. “But I thought I owed it to both of us to come in person and…see if there was any point in hoping.” He slid his hand across the table and covered Ted’s, giving it a brief squeeze.
Ted smiled, and he turned his hand to return the pressure, but his words would not allow Cole’s hopes to rise. “The thing is, Cole,” he said, “is that I think what Elaine and I have will last. And I want it to.”
For a moment they looked at one another, still hand-in-hand. Then Cole sighed and drew his hand free. “Fair enough,” he said.
He changed the subject then, telling jokes to mask his disappointment. Ted allowed the shift in conversation, but he was not entirely fooled. He was not surprised, either, when Cole asked for the check only a few minutes later.
“I hope I haven’t scared you off completely,” he said as he walked Cole out to his car.
Cole laughed. “Oh, I think I’m old enough to maintain a friendship even after a rejection,” he said. He looked at Ted with fondness. “It’s my own fault, you know. You’ve been trying to let me down gently for the past few weeks, and I haven’t paid any attention. But love is about taking risks.”
Ted paused and considered that for a moment. “I don’t know that I agree with you anymore,” he said thoughtfully. “But I’m glad you came. And I hope you come back.” He offered Cole his hand.
Cole hesitated, for the first time some of his hurt visible on his face. But then he took Ted’s hand, shaking it like a businessman. “Maybe not for a while,” he admitted, “but I will be back. Merry Christmas, Ted.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Ted stood still and watched as Cole pulled out of the parking lot, both hearts hurting. Ted’s hurt, however, was just empathy, and faded to a low ache as he turned to get back into his own car. Before he left, he pulled out his phone and sent Elaine a quick text.
Coming home now.