Installation 40: Later For You previous
On a steamy night in mid-June, with wedding season in full swing, Corey Feldman arrived in his Chrysler Sebring convertible to pick up Corey Reeves. Corey sashayed down from her newly-purchased industrial loft wearing a tank top and skirt that looked as if she may have borrowed them from a friend who was several sizes smaller. She swung open the passenger door and draped herself over the front seat, letting Corey take in the full package. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, lingering just a bit too long and using too much tongue. Corey Feldman broke away first, pretending to be excited by Bachman-Turner Overdrive coming on the radio. He cranked it up, checked his hair and peeled away from the curb.
They went to Beaches Bar and Grill for dinner and sat out on the patio. Corey Feldman ordered a Corona; Corey Reeves a cosmopolitan. Once their server went off to the bar, Corey Reeves lit up a cigarette.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Shit, you haven't called me in a week.”
“I told you – wedding planning.”
Corey Reeves shrugged. “I don't understand why that changes anything between us.”
“We've talked about this,” Corey Feldman said. “I'm getting married. To Stephanie. So its ending between us.”
“Listen, I was thinking we'd go up north in two weeks,” Corey Reeves said. “To my stepfather's cabin. There's a lake, a hot tub. I'll bring the champagne. You bring some lobsters. It will be like that scene in Annie Hall.”
“Am I not speaking English?”
The server returned with their drinks. As she set them down, Corey Feldman glared at Corey Reeves.
“In two weeks,” he said. “I'll be having my bachelor party. In three weeks I'll be having my groom's dinner and in three weeks and one day I'll be a married man.”
“But what does that mean? I mean, really, Corey...”
“I think Stephanie and I deserve a chance,” he said. “A fresh start.”
“Ha ha,” Corey Reeves laughed. “That's funny. Do you really think you can have a fresh start when every time you sleep with her you're going to see me in your mind, covered in whipped cream? Or what about the ketchup?”
“That was just... passing time,” he said. “Until my marriage started.”
“So this is it?” Corey Reeves asked, leaning forward, the burning cigarette dangerously close to her cheek.
“Hi, have you two decided?” their server asked, materializing at their table. “Did I remember to tell you about the specials? Tonight we're paying tribute to that often overlooked vegetable, the cucumber. Our soup of the day is cold cucumber mint. Its a yogurty, minty, cucumbery concoction that tastes kind of like raita. Do you guys know what that is? Its an Indian dip. Anyway, that's our soup. Then we have crab stuffed cucumbers. Our chef wants everyone to know that we use 100 percent real crab, not whitefish passed off as crab. We also have cucumber noodles, which is what I ate during my break. I'd give it about a five out of ten but I'm not a big cucumber gal. I hope I don't have cilantro in my teeth.”
“I'll have a burger and fries,” Corey Feldman said. “And whenever you see my beer getting low, bring another.”
“I'll have the soba noodle salad,” Corey Reeves said. “There's no cheese in that, is there? I'm on a no dairy diet. Dairy is so bad for you.”
“Right,” their server said, waving a hand through the cloud of smoke coming off Corey's cigarette. “I”ll be right back with another beer.”
“Where were we?” Corey Feldman asked when they were alone again. “Oh, right, I said that thing about fresh starts and being a husband and you asked if this is it and I guess my gut instinct is to say its over.”
“You're making a mistake,” Corey Reeves said. “You don't love her.”
“I very well might.”
“Name one thing you love about her. Quick, no thinking.”
“She's clean,” he blurted out. “And she makes good egg salad.”
“And I'm dirty? She's the Virgin Mary and I'm Mary Magdalene?”
“I didn't say that.”
“In case you haven't heard, there's a lot of evidence to support the fact that the Magdalene was not a whore.”
“See, this is what drives me crazy,” Corey Feldman said. “I try to break up with you and you start babbling about ancient history. I'm getting married. I don't want to see you anymore.”
“Well, can we at least have one final fuck?” Corey asked. “Do you think its fair to just announce I'm out, I'm fired, and then leave me with a lousy dinner at this crappy restaurant? I have needs, Corey.”
Corey Feldman leaned back in his chair and stared up at the sky, contemplating this request as if it came not from his lover but from an adult child asking her parent for a loan.
“OK,” he finally said, sighing heavily. “One more time. And then its over. I marry Stephanie and you never bother us. If we see each other in the halls at work we give each other a friendly wave.”
“Of course,” she said, leaping up from her chair and letting her napkin fall to the ground.
“Not so fast,” he said. “I've got a burger and fries coming, remember?”
Their server reappeared, setting their plates of food in front of them. Everything was garnished in a dazzling array of cucumbers cut into tiny animal shapes. They ate without talking. Corey Feldman had three more beers. Corey Reeves had two more cosmopolitans and three more cigarettes.
At the end of the meal, Corey Feldman paid the bill and they went back to Corey's loft for a more subdued session of lovemaking than they had ever experienced – no ketchup, no whipped cream, a scant two minutes with the handcuffs. When it was over, Corey Feldman pulled on his Dockers.
“Later,” he said to the woman he'd been sleeping with for almost a year, as if she was someone he had run into on the street or a buddy he played racquetball with.
As he headed downstairs in the elevator that used to be an industrial lift for enormous sacks of flour, he was faced with the daunting prospect of becoming a husband who didn't cheat. And he felt not a small amount of sadness that he and Corey had never gotten to try hot wax, although he'd always meant to get around to it.