The Gentle Dom

by Sean Michael

  Rec took one of the forks, cut off a piece of pie and stabbed it. Then he handed the fork over to Barclay. “Tell me this isn’t even better.”

  “Thank you.” He tried it, the caramelized sweet just lovely. Not as good as the doughnuts, but very tasty nonetheless.

  Rec grinned. “You like it—I can tell.”

  “What’s not to like, right?”

  “Exactly!” Rec laughed, looking pleased, happy. It made him easy to be around.

  They ate the desserts—Barclay had a bit more than half of the doughnuts, and Rec had the lion’s share of the pie, but eventually they’d destroyed both and were licking their fingers and wiping their mouths with their napkins.

  Their waitress brought over the bill without being prompted—no doubt trying to stay ahead of the rush, and Rec pulled out his wallet. “We’ll need the machine, please.”

  She pulled it out of one of the deep pockets of her apron and grabbed the bill back, entering in the total.

  “I have some cash. I can get my half,” Barclay offered. He wasn’t a charity case.

  “If you want. I’m easy.” Rec handed his card over. “Twenty bucks’ll cover your half plus tip.”

  Barclay handed the twenty to Rec, then leaned over to put his gloves back on. He might take company on his “walk” home, but he wasn’t getting pushed, even if Rec had offered earlier. Now that the time had come, he could do this.

  Rec dealt with paying, then got up, and they headed for the street again. “You want me to push your chair?”

  “I got it. We’re good.” He had his pride, after all, and the food and rest had helped with his muscle fatigue. The fact that he’d consumed a large amount of sugar probably wasn’t hurting any either.

  “Sure, no problem. Lead on.”

  He put his head down and headed up the street, which had a subtle hill that you really noticed when you had to propel yourself up it in a wheelchair. He moved doggedly, counting out a steady rhythm.

  “You never mentioned you had to go up the hill,” Rec noted. “There wouldn’t be any shame in me giving you a bit of a push.”

  “I think everywhere in this town is up a hill somehow.” He’d never really noticed before his accident. And to make it worse, none of it was steep, which made him feel like a wimp.

  Rec chuckled and dropped behind him. “Let me help you out until we’re past the uphill, okay?”

  He would have argued, but he was going to hurl if he continued to propel himself, no question. No question.

  When he didn’t say anything, Rec murmured, “Watch your hands,” and started pushing him. Thank God.

  He closed his eyes for a second, letting himself just breathe through the exhaustion and hoping the need to barf backed off.

  “Just let me know where to go,” Rec said.

  “I’m in the big blue complex on the left at the very top of the hill.” Just where it started getting easier again.

  “Cool. What floor are you on?”

  “The first. I’m all the way in the back, but I’m on the first floor, thank God.” Even now he wouldn’t survive a climb of any sort, let alone when he’d actually rented it.

  “No elevators, eh? I know a lot of these older places don’t have them.” Rec turned into the walkway of his apartment.

  “No.” He was living careful. Real fucking careful. What savings he had needed to last until he was well enough to be earning again. Which was why he had a one-bedroom in an older place where his chair barely fit down the halls.

  “They’ve got charm, though.” Rec waited for him to unlock the door, then wheeled him in.

  “Ignore the mess, please.” He was trying his best, but… well, depression was a bitch, and that went double on the disabled list.

  Rec snorted. “I’m a guy who lives alone. I know from messy.”

  “It’s just….” It was rough.

  “Hey.” Rec crouched next to him and put a hand on his knee, warm and solid and comforting. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

  “I’m fine. I’m really fine. I just… I have a learning curve.” He couldn’t reach anything. He fell a lot. He was scared to stand in the shower. What if he fell and reinjured himself and couldn’t get up? Who knew how long he’d be stuck on the ground?

  “Of course you do. And I bet that curve just keeps returning whenever you reach a new plateau. I’m here to help, Barclay. I’m not going to judge,” Rec assured him.

  “You don’t have to. I do.” And he knew how far he had to go to get back to where he’d been. He did. Not Rec. Not anyone else.

  “I think maybe you’re judging yourself harshly, aren’t you?” Rec asked.

  “I don’t know.” He hadn’t been expecting someone to talk to him, to pay attention. That was new.

  “That’s fair. Come on, show me around your place. I won’t promise not to notice any mess, but I will promise not to care.”

  “I…. There’s not much to see.” He had the couch, a TV, a mattress on the floor, and that was it. He didn’t bother with a table or a dresser or anything. They would have just gotten in the way. He could barely reach the counter with the stove and kept his dry goods and dishes in the two lower cupboards. He didn’t really need more than the bare bones anyway. His prized possession was his laptop, which provided most of his entertainment.

  Rec frowned. “Was this your place before you got hurt?”

  “No. No, of course not. I lived in a loft downtown.” It had still had a hefty mortgage on it, though, so he’d sold it, as it had not been wheelchair friendly.

  “I can see how that would make it hard to get around. Why didn’t you keep it? Your mattress could have gone on the floor there, couldn’t it?”

  “I couldn’t afford it. I went from good money to no money, huh?”

  “That sucks hard.” Rec squeezed his leg. “I suppose you’d like me to get out of your space already, eh? You’re still coming to mine for that movie marathon tomorrow, right?”

  “Sure. Sure. Just text me the address, huh?” He was totally cancelling. He would just hide until Monday when he had to go back for his next session.

  “I will. Anytime after eleven. Thanks for hanging out with me for a while, B.”

  “Thank you for everything. You’ve been incredibly kind.” And he hadn’t experienced a lot of kindness since leaving his folks’ place and moving back out on his own.

  “Hey, my pleasure. I will text you my address—I hope you’ll come.”

  Barclay reached out, shook Rec’s hand. It was warm, and he let it go with a strange reluctance. He’d forgotten how good it was to have human contact, connection. “Have a good run, man.”

  “Oh, I will. Downhill all the way.” Rec gave him a wink and a wave and was gone.

  Barclay closed the door, shaking his head. God, he was tired. He rolled himself over to the mattress and locked the wheels on his chair. He managed to get out of the chair and dropped down onto the mattress, where he let himself collapse with a groan. He didn’t even bother to shift himself into the middle of the thing. It wasn’t going anywhere, and he could do it later.

  He closed his eyes and worked on emptying his mind. He’d go back out Monday. Until then, he wasn’t dealing with anything.

  Chapter Two

  REC WOKE up Saturday morning and went for another run—just five kilometers this time—then did a quick cleanup of his little condo. He was on the eighth floor, but was on the side with the view of the street, not Lake Ontario. It was amazing how much more expensive the lakeview apartments were. There was only his bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room, so it didn’t take long to clean.

  He put some drinks in the fridge in case Barclay forgot, double-checked not only his popcorn supply, but also his popcorn topping supply. He was good. He even had a bit of cinema-style candy to put out in his cereal bowls. Mike and Ikes went great with popcorn. Then he pulled out all his Marvel movies, queuing up Iron Man, as that was the first one. Not his favorite, but if you were going to d
o a marathon, that meant you watched them all, and in order.

  At ten thirty, as he lounged on his couch flipping through TV channels while he waited for Barclay, the text came.

  Hey man, I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m sore & having trouble. Sorry.

  Damn. He wondered if Barclay really was that sore, or if it was just hard for him to get out to spend some time with someone he didn’t know that well. Rec knew that wasn’t always an easy thing to do, especially coming off pretty severe injuries. Barclay had to be seeing himself as not himself.

  He texted back, come get you? Then all Barclay would have to do was sit. On the comfy couch even.

  don’t want to put you out

  sitting here with nothing to do but watch movies—not putting me out

  Come on, come on, Barclay, Rec thought. We could be great friends. Maybe more. Give me a chance. He waited for the response.

  u dont mind?

  Score.

  nope on my way

  Rec tossed on some clean running gear, put his earbuds in, and headed out. He was in the opposite direction from the gym, but it only added a kilometer or so to the distance.

  It was a good run, easy and steady, and by the time he got to Barclay’s apartment, he was feeling good, loose. He knocked on Barclay’s door, jogging in place so he didn’t cool off. He had a hunch Barclay might enjoy it if he ran while pushing the wheelchair—give the man a chance to go fast.

  Barclay opened the door looking utterly exhausted, huge dark circles under his eyes. Rec schooled his expression not to show his dismay and wished he’d insisted on pushing from earlier on yesterday. At least Barclay could sleep through the movies and not have to worry about making himself food. Not eating would not help Barclay out any, but Rec suspected when the guy was this tired, making food, even something simple, would seem like an enormous task.

  “Hey—you ready for a ride over to my place?” He kept moving.

  “Hey. Are you sure? I’m just… I’m more sore than I’d expected. One day I’ll get a place with a hot tub.”

  “They’re putting in some hot tubs at the gym. I think they said they wanted them in by fall, so you’ll be able to take advantage of them.” He offered Barclay a warm grin. “And yeah, I’m sure. It’s not like a movie marathon requires anything but sitting. You can take a couple Tylenol for your soreness and relax all day. It’ll be easy fun that won’t put any extra strain on your muscles. Sound good?” He knew he was being pushy, but he honestly thought not being alone would be good for Barclay, and it wasn’t like the guy was going to have to do anything once he was there, or even to get there for that matter.

  “Are you…? You’re being really nice to me. Thank you.”

  He appreciated Barclay’s catch. He might have growled if Barclay had asked yet again if he was sure. And Jesus, had no one ever done anything neighborly or friendly for Barclay in far too long or what? “You’re welcome. There aren’t a ton of people I connect with, and I liked you on sight. Friends are good to have.”

  “They are. I don’t have many left.”

  “Yeah, something like this happens and you find out who your real friends are, eh?” Rec put a hand on Barclay’s shoulder and squeezed. Injuries like Barclay’s were isolating because he couldn’t go out and do the things he used to, even simple things like hanging out at the coffee shop with friends.

  Rec waited for Barclay to lock his door before grabbing the back of the chair and wheeling him down the hall.

  “You don’t have to….”

  Right, like Barclay could manage wheeling himself around at this point. Besides, this was supposed to be a no-energy-needed day.

  “But I want to. I thought you’d enjoy the ride if I go ahead and run back home. Is that good with you?” It would surprise the heck out of him if Barclay said no.

  “Okay. Okay, sure. It might be fun.”

  “You shout out if suddenly it’s not.” He didn’t expect there would be any requests for him to slow down or stop, though. He thought maybe someone needed to fly a little bit.

  He pushed them sedately until they were on the sidewalk, made sure it was fairly clear sailing, then said, “Here we go!” before he began to really move, starting off at a medium jog to let Barclay get used to the speed. Barclay didn’t seem the least bit worried. In fact, he leaned forward, into the wind.

  Excellent. Rec put on speed, slowly getting up to a comfortable run. They weren’t going so fast people couldn’t get out of their way, and the lights were with them so they didn’t even have to stop at the roads. Thank goodness for sidewalks that had ramps to get to the road.

  By the time they got to the gym, Barclay was laughing, the sound ringing out. Rec approved.

  He waved at Tide, Lance, Tyrone, and Bran as they went by, the foursome chatting by the doors to the gym. He laughed too at the surprised looks they got. They had to be quite the sight, him in his running gear, Barclay in his wheelchair, his crutches sticking up from their pocket on the back corner of the chair. Rec kept going, weaving through any pedestrians who didn’t jump out of the way. They did a little better when they turned the corner, his street less populated.

  It looked like it would be clear sailing all the way to his place. “You ready for some real speed, Barclay?”

  “Yes! Yes, please!”

  He brought Barclay out onto the bike lane on the road so they could avoid up and downs and pushed his speed so they were flying along.

  Barclay let go of the arms of the chair and raised his hands as if he were on a rollercoaster.

  Rec waited until they’d safely crossed the last road, then sped up to his top speed, going hell for leather for the last few hundred meters.

  They were both breathless when he stopped them—Barclay from laughing, him from the run. Rec was really pleased by how smoothly that had gone. “Oh God, that worked better than I thought it would.”

  “That was fun!” Barclay looked over his shoulder with a grin. It lit up Barclay’s entire face, making him look both younger and less exhausted.

  “You should come with me on my runs more often.” That smile was something else. Stunning, really.

  “Maybe one day when I’m running on my own, huh? Soon?” There was a wistful note in Barclay’s voice. Having to come back from an accident like Barclay’s would have been hard for anyone, but having to be as inactive as Barclay had for more than a year when you did a job with such physicality added a psychological aspect to the recovery. It wasn’t easy to suddenly no longer be in command of your body.

  “Yeah. Real soon. Meanwhile, we have movies to watch.” He unlocked the front doors and pushed the wheelchair into his building and over to the elevator. He hit the up button.

  “You have an elevator. Cool. Seriously.”

  “Yeah. We’d have had a shit time if we had to get you up eight flights.” In fact, he probably wouldn’t have invited Barclay in the first place if that had been the case, and he was pretty sure even if he had it would have been a deal breaker. No way would Barclay have let him carry the man up all those stairs. And not doing this movie day would have been a shame. Not just for Barclay but for himself as well.

  Rec wheeled Barclay in after the doors slid open, and pressed eight.

  “You would have had to holler down what was on the television.”

  He laughed, pleased that not doing this at all hadn’t been where Barclay’s focus had gone. Making jokes was a good sign. “Can you imagine? The neighbors would have had a horse.”

  “Yeah, maybe you could have used your phone to call it down,” Barclay suggested.

  This was a charming side of Barclay, and Rec was glad he’d teased it out. Run it out? Either way, he wanted this happy man to stick around.

  “Well, we don’t have to worry about it. We’re elevator ho!” Barclay shouted the last word out.

  Rec laughed as the elevator dinged at Barclay’s shout. He kept laughing as they worked their way down the hall to his condo. Once he’d unlocked it, he wheeled Barcl
ay in. “Ta-da!”

  Barclay looked around, eyes going to the big windows and lingering there a moment. “Nice place, man. I swear, I’ll take the bus home tonight and not be a bother.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, the couch totally is comfortable enough to sleep on if it becomes necessary.” He knew the bus schedule was crap on the weekend. And he didn’t want Barclay to feel like he had to take off early or anything. Rec was ready for a full weekend movie marathon.

  “Thanks.” Barclay shook his head a little. “Where do you want me?”

  “You want to transfer to the couch? I bet that’ll be the most comfortable.”

  “Sure.” Barclay moved over next to it and set his brakes, then pulled out his crutches and took the few steps over to the sofa. Christ, that looked painful. Rec didn’t say anything, though, not wanting to bring attention to it. If Barclay wanted to share with Rec, he would.

  Once Barclay was settled, Rec put the wheelchair in the corner near the door where it wouldn’t be in the way. His halls were pretty wide, so using the chair to get to the bathroom would not be a problem. “You just yell when you need it.”

  “Sure. Thanks. I’ll buy dinner if you want, since I flaked on the drinks.”

  “That works. Hopefully you like what I’ve got in the fridge. Speaking of, let me get the popcorn on and get you a drink.” His little kitchen was separated from the living room by a bar, which was nice for entertaining. Not that he did a lot of that, but he was pleased about it now as it would let their conversation flow freely.

  “Thank you. For everything. Seriously.”

  “My pleasure. Now drinks.” He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. “You want a Coke? Juice? Mango ice tea? Lemon ice tea? Or water?”

  “Juice?”

  Rec thought it was a good choice—plenty of sugar in the juice to help give Barclay a boost. “Sure thing. I’ve got apple and cranberry.”

  “Cranberry, please. I love the sour.”

  “Good choice.” He put a bunch of popcorn in the popper, then grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice and brought it out. “You got a preference on toppings? Along with butter, I’ve got a bunch of Kernels’ flavors.”