I Wish Things Were Different

I Wish Things Were Different

Otto breathed deeply as Cass entered the bar. He’d had a long day and wanted nothing more than to get home to Dessie, but Cassio had approached him at the office, insisting he have a drink at PJ’s with him and Ian. It was common knowledge Othello rarely drank, choosing to release his pent up energy at home with his wife after a long day, but he couldn’t deny his boss. When Cass invited you out for a drink, you went. The creative director wasn’t well liked around the ad agency, being that he was quick to abuse his ability to order his subordinates around, but he was the only sure-fire way to being promoted at William and Speare. As the son of the co-partner of the agency, cooperating with him wouldn’t go unrewarded.
When Cass arrived at the corner table where Otto sipped a club soda, he smiled broadly and slapped him on the back. “Good to see ya here, Ot. Say, why don’t we sit on up at the bar, we’ll get a better view of the gals comin’ and goin.’” He guffawed loudly and snatched Otto’s drink from his hand, assuming the man would follow him anywhere, like a lamb to the slaughter. In a way it would be, for an African American man attempting to sit at a prime spot in the primarily white occupied bar. While Otto was the only black man working in advertising, as far as he knew, that didn’t mean much to the white citizens of New York City. Despite LBJ signing the Civil Rights act only a few months ago, things hadn’t changed as much as Otto had hoped.
“There now, we have a very fine view from right here, wouldn’t you say, Ot?” Otto nodded and took his drink back from Cass, knowing anything he attempted to respond with would come out with the inflection of an insult. Cass began a lengthy monologue about the derriere of a woman standing with their back to them, while Otto glanced toward the door, anxiously tapping his foot on the rung of his bar stool. Ian had mentioned he’d be there, but Otto could only pretend to listen to Cass so long. Though he was his boss, Cass rarely interacted with Otto’s design department, spreading his idea for the ad through the grapevine where it eventually reached Otto. Otto then came up with the sketches for accounts they contracted; such as Lucky Strike. Just last week he’d seen one of his own drawings in a magazine of Dessie’s.
Just as Cass made an outline in the air of what appeared to be an hourglass, or rather a voluptuous woman’s figure, considering where his eyes were locked, Ian strolled through the front door of the bar. Otto’s heart sped as the blonde man reached them, his straight white teeth flashing in the glow of the fluorescent lighting over the bar.
“Hey, sorry I’m late, boys.” As Ian stopped in front of them, Otto breathed deeply and suddenly inhaled the scent of orange blossoms, a scent he knew well. For her birthday a few months ago, Otto had given Dessie a new perfume William and Speare had recently acquired an account for. Because he’d designed an ad the company had loved, they’d sent him a bottle of their floral smelling perfume. Dessie had worn it every day since. Because the perfume was just beginning to advertise, their product wasn’t on the market, Dessie owning the only bottle until they hit the shelves in a few weeks.
“Ian.” Otto’s forehead wrinkled as he continued to breathe in the subtle scent as Ian leaned past him to order a drink from the bartender. When Ian’s throat was inches from his face Otto breathed again and was hit with the smell of delicate blossoms, picturing it on pale white skin. “Ian…” When the man turned with a questioning glance, Otto saw a small mark of light pink on the edge of the man’s jaw. Taking the damp napkin out from under his glass, Otto reached up and wiped the smudge from the scruff of the other man’s face. Ian’s pupils dilated slightly as he held perfectly still through Otto’s ministrations. “You smell of Dessie.” Otto whispered over the loud bar, close enough for only Ian to hear.
Ian’s throat rippled as he swallowed. “I…I-I saw her this afternoon on my lunch break.” Otto nodded and balled up the napkin, tossing it on top of the scuffed wood bar.
“You’re not supposed to see her on Thursdays. You have Monday and Wednesday. Any other time I must be there, or you must ask my permission.” Otto clenched and unclenched his fists on top of his dark blue trousers.
Ian lowered himself onto the stool next to Otto, his blue eyes remaining trained on Otto’s brown ones. “It was a farewell… I’ve decided to end our arrangement.”
Otto blinked his eyes rapidly at this statement, Ian appearing to wait with apprehension for how he would respond. “You’re not happy with us anymore? Have you found someone?” Ian glanced away and watched Cass flirt with the curvy woman he’d been eyeing for the past hour, his looked pained when he turned back to Otto. “I can’t share you anymore.” The blonde man said quietly, slowly he reached out and brushed his knuckles over Otto’s fisted hand, hidden in his lap under the bar. Otto opened his palm and laced his fingers with Ian’s.
“I can’t just leave Dessie, she needs me.” Otto pursed his lips and willed Ian to understand. Ian had said from the beginning he would be happy with any way he could have Otto, but after four years it’s no longer enough?
“We can leave. She has a large family, they’ll look after her. We’ll go to Paris tonight, where love is love, and no one questions it.” Otto was shaking his head before Ian finished, they’d never be accepted, no matter where they went. The color of their skin would always separate them.
“I’m sorry.” Otto whispered. Ian squeezed his hand once and pulled away. “I hope you’ll be happy.” Ian stood, and Otto watched his tall form fade into the rowdy crowd. No one the wiser, the fair man took his heart with him.