Page 40 of Bean
Our food came, and I was so, so pleased with how things were going. For once, I was making a good impression, which made me so happy.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I asked after taking a bit from the seafood pasta, which was perfectly cooked.
“I’m a lawyer. I used to work for… Never mind, long story. I was laid off a little while back, which was a bit of a blow to the ego. But it turned out to be a good thing because I now work for my friend Ivy’s organization, a non-profit that helps LGBTQ+ teenagers without supportive families find resources with housing, jobs, and financing for college. They also help trans teens with access to gender-affirming hormone therapy, new wardrobes, and gender-affirming care. It’s very fulfilling, though also demanding. Ivy is not an easy boss.” He laughed, his whole face lighting up. “She’s quite demanding, in fact, but it’s all for a good cause.”
“That’s a great mission. I grew up in a strict conservative Christian family, and if I had come out as a teen, my parents would have sent me to a conversion camp without a second thought.”
I hadn’t meant to share that with Jarek because surely that wasn’t something you told guys you hooked up with, but it was too late now.
“I’m so sorry. Do your parents know you’re bi now?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure I’ll ever tell them. Our relationship is already very complicated. They weren’t too happy with me when I joined the Army, and when I got hurt, I got a strong sense they felt it was God’s punishment for what I did.”
“You fought for your country. Surely that has to count for something?”
I shrugged. “I guess not.”
“My family hails from the former USSR, so you could say we have mixed opinions on the military, but I would never condemn someone for enlisting.”
“I don’t even know your last name.” The thought made my cheeks heat. If my parents knew I’d slept with a man and didn’teven know his name… Well, the “man” part of that sentence would’ve been the dealbreaker anyway, so his name wouldn’t even have mattered all that much.
He chuckled. “Soroka. Jarek Soroka.”
Idiot that I was, I actually extended my hand to him. “Merill Stringfield.”
To Jarek’s credit, he didn’t laugh at me as he took it. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you…every single time, Bean.”
“I don’t know why I did that. My social skills are…clumsy. I don’t have much experience dating.”
“Have you been in a relationship before?”
I nodded. “Her name was Natasha, and I thought we were serious. But then I got hurt, and she was out. The good news is that I was still so out of it that I barely remember it, but once I became more aware, it hurt.”
“You would’ve never walked out on someone who was hurt.”
“Absolutely not. Even if I’d fallen out of love with them, I would’ve at least stayed until they were well enough to deal. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s not true for everybody. Some people have little empathy…or loyalty.”
I studied him, the pain in his eyes impossible to miss. “You got hurt.”
He sent me a smile, but it was full of sadness and loss. “It’s hard not to feel hurt when you discover your husband cheated on you for most of your marriage.”
My fork fell out of my hand, clinking onto my plate. “Cheated?”
“Repeatedly. It was a habit, you could say. And he made me feel like I was to blame.”
Okay, I was confused. How did that even work? “How are you to blame when he’s the one who cheated?”
“You’d have to ask Gio, but something about not being adventurous enough in bed. He wanted…” He sighed. “I shouldn’t bore you with all this. Plus, you’d get the wrong impression of me.”
“Well, the good news is that an hour from now, I won’t remember most of it anyway, so that makes me a pretty safe person to confide in. I would never judge you for it because I won’t even remember it.”
His eyes widened, and then he snorted, promptly slapping his hand over his mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh at that. It’s not funny.”
I shrugged. “No, but at the same time, it is. I have to make fun of myself because if I don’t, I’ll get bitter, and I refuse to be that person. What happened to me sucks, it really does, but complaining about it doesn’t help. All it does is make me sad and angry and resentful, and I don’t want to be. As my therapist says, I can’t control the situation, but I can control how I respond to it. So, humor it is.”
He covered my hand with his. “That’s an admirable attitude, sunshine. I’m not sure I could do it.”