Again by Sharon Cullars

Eisenhower Expressway and drove the nine miles to Oak Park.
    David felt a peace descend whenever he drove through the quiet streets of his neighborhood. A mix of Victorian mansions, neoclassical buildings, and Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie homes, the historic area contained an old-world charm and stately beauty that drew the elite, the creative best. Writers, artists, and architects like himself called Oak Park home. Hemingway had been born here. It was a place of tree-lined streets, families old and young, wide lawns and lovely homes.
    When people discovered David was an architect living in Oak Park, they invariably asked whether Wright was his inspiration for going into the field. Invariably he told them no. Wright’s style was interior light and open, dramatic spaces in low-hugging, long buildings. David’s was eclectic, combining the contemporary and traditional, the utilitarian and the decorative. He was married to no one style.
    As uncommitted in work as he was in life.
     
     
     
    When he got home, his message light was flashing on the machine. He dropped his keys on the foyer table and hit the play button. The first two messages were from his mother asking him to call, but no detailed message. Something was up, but it must not be an emergency, otherwise she would have said so. He didn’t feel like dealing with her tonight. He would call her from the office tomorrow. The last message was from Sherry, asking him to call as soon as he got home.
    Sherry was a friend of ten years, beautiful as well as gay. She had been there during the first days after Karen, trying to convince him that he wasn’t the total ass he thought he was. She had been empathetic instead of accusing since she had gone through a recent breakup herself.
    He dialed Sherry’s number, wondering what crisis was up since she had sounded just a little bit desperate in her message. She picked up on the second ring.
    “Yeah?” he said without any introduction.
    “Good, you’re home. Need you badly.” He heard a lilt in her voice.
    “For what? If it’s that faucet again, you should get a plumber and stop being so cheap. My expertise doesn’t lean to diddling with washers and pipes. I only design the houses they go in, babe.”
    “Nope. Not that. I need your body.”
    There wasn’t any misinterpretation. She wasn’t asking for a warm body to bed. “Need it for what? What’s going on?”
    “Wedding. I need an escort. Don’t want to go by myself and since Gina’s gone…C’mon, good food…”
    “You know how I feel about those things.”
    “Hey. You should enjoy the irony of someone else falling into the pit you barely escaped. C’mon, it’s a friend of mine, and I really want to go and I don’t want to go alone. If I ask a girl, I don’t want her getting any ideas. You’re my safe date. As well as being handsome, you won’t clash with my dress.”
    “Look, Sherry, I’d do almost anything for you but I don’t relish getting all dressed up to attend some wedding, especially since…”
    “I know, I know. Since Karen. But this is a good friend of mine, and I want to be there. And I want a good friend by my side. It’ll only be a couple of hours at the most.”
    David sighed. He didn’t want to go. But he didn’t want to disappoint Sherry, who had served as arm decoration for at least one of his functions since Karen. It was only fair that he do the same. “When is it?”
    “A week from Saturday at seven. First Unitarian Church in Hyde Park. Then there’s the reception later. Good food and all the wine you can drink. C’mon, I’ll owe you one.”
    “No, actually, I owe you, remember?”
    “Great. I really appreciate this. I promise I won’t impose on you again.”
    Dave chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Not until next time when you need something fixed or someone to drop off some Chinese pickup.”
    “Don’t forget the sperm donation I might ask you for one day,” she laughed.
    Dave nearly choked, then laughed. “Don’t