The Sweet Tooth

by Margot Larson

  Solomon didn’t want to hear anymore. He could tell that Mathieu was in pain relating the past events. “Mathieu, please stop now.”

  “I need you to hear the whole story. Solomon, I haven’t left my apartment for almost two years. I don’t know if I will ever be able too. You need to understand why and decide if you can handle that.”

  “But I can feel that you’re hurting. I don’t want you to hurt.” He tried to control the emotion in his voice but failed, “I care about you.”

  Mathieu heard the emotion, “I care about you too that’s why I want you to know about me so you can decide if you want to stay. I hated being in hospital. They wanted me to stay overnight because of the potential concussion but I only wanted to get home. I called my boyfriend to come to get me and I walked out.”

  Mathieu was shaking a little more violently by then and Solomon really wanted him to stop. “That’s enough for today, I think. I know you have more to say and I’ll listen but I want you to stop now. You’re all tense and shaking and breathing hard. I want you to try and calm down. Take some deep breaths and let yourself relax. Okay?”

  The Irishman did as he was instructed and felt himself loosening up. He went back to doodling on Solomon’s shirt with his finger.

  “Are you still in touch with your friends?”

  “No. They stuck around for a while but they couldn’t handle it when I grew afraid to go out. Some of them got mad when I couldn’t ‘man up’ and just ‘get over it’. My boyfriend at the time tried to drag me down the stairs and out the door. I had an attack on the landing and he just left me there. I never saw him again after that.”

  “None of them tried to help you?”

  “My boyfriend was the one taking me to see the doctors. I thought he was something special. But I guess he got impatient with me.”

  “I want to help you, if you’ll let me.” Solomon kissed Mathieu on top his head.

  “Help me?” Mathieu hadn’t thought about getting help in a long while. The artist was comfortable with his life the way it was. He had seen no reason to seek any more professional help. But now Solomon was there and he wanted the man in his life. He wanted to be better; to get better; to do better. He wanted to fly to New Zealand and see the places Solomon had photographed. It would take time but with Solomon’s support he thought it may be possible. He dared to let himself hope for the first time in a long time.

  Something in the way Mathieu said ‘help me’ got Solomon thinking and he didn’t like where his mind went. Mathieu had had three attacks in front of him because of something he said or did. The last one was so bad Mathieu could barely move after it. Who was he to think that he was capable of helping someone who had panic attacks? Was he being too forward in collecting information on doctors and then expecting Mathieu to accept it? If Mathieu decided he wanted help then the first step would be for him to seek it himself, right? For the first time since meeting his neighbor Solomon began to doubt he was actually any good for the man at all.

  “Solomon, what’s wrong? You went all rigid and you have a far-away look in your eyes now.” Mathieu had propped himself up on Solomon’s chest to look into his face.

  “I’m fine, it’s just…..nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  Solomon said a little more firmly, “I’m fine.”

  “If you say so,” Mathieu pushed himself up and collected the dessert dishes to bring them to the kitchen.

  Solomon thought, ‘Fuck’! He got up and trailed Mathieu into the kitchen. He stood with his chest to the Irishman’s back, “I’m sorry. I just got to thinking about some things.”

  “What things?” Mathieu turned off the water and spun around. He put his hands on Solomon’s hips.

  “Stupid things. It doesn’t matter.”

  Mathieu pressed, “Tell me. It’s your turn to talk.”

  Solomon took Mathieu’s hand and led him back to the sofa, “I want to help you, if you want me too, if you need me too. But I can’t stop thinking about the three attacks you’ve had since we met. They were because of something I said or something you thought I was going to do.” Solomon ran his hands through his hair. “I was wondering how good I would be at helping you when all I seem to do is hurt you.”

  Mathieu’s face fell into a deep frown, “What does that mean? You don’t want to help me anymore? You said you’d be there for me. You made me trust you. You said you’d fallen for me. What about all those other things you said? Did you mean any of it?” The artist stood up, stumbling as he turned around to walk away.

  Solomon stood and reached out to steady the artist, “Please, Mathieu, don’t walk away. I meant all of it. I want to help you. I just don’t want to hurt you anymore. I will be here for you as long as you’ll have me. I….I love you.”

  “You love me.” Mathieu continued to frown and keep his back to Solomon.

  “Yes. That’s kinda what I meant when I said that I’d fallen for you. It’s okay if you can’t say it back right now. I understand. I know you want to go slow.” When Mathieu still didn’t turn around or say anything Solomon added, “I’m sorry.” The silence grew uncomfortable for him so he stepped around the artist and headed for the door without looking back. But he just couldn’t leave. He turned back around, “Mathieu, say something, anything. Please don’t just let me walk away from you.”

  Mathieu stared up at the blonde in front of him, “I don’t know what to say. I think that if I move or say anything I’ll wake up and it will have been a dream. It’s been almost two years since I heard those words from someone and believed it.” He started to breathe heavily and tremble again.

  “Look at me Mathieu,” Solomon took the artist in his arms, “take deep, even breaths. Try to relax. You’re safe.”

  Mathieu continued to tremble in Solomon’s arms, “I’m not having an attack,” he sobbed.

  Solomon realized Mathieu was crying; he took the younger man by the arms and pulled him back down to the sofa. “I love you. I’ll say it every day. I love you.” He pressed kisses to the tears on the Irishman’s face.

  “Do you know who the last person to say that to me was?” Solomon shook his head. “The last person who said that to me was my mom, right before she told me what a disappointment I was. She let my dad convince her that I had attacks because I was gay and that they wouldn’t happen if I was a ‘real man’ and that the attacks were punishment from God. We had been so close but he couldn’t handle having a son who didn’t like girls and then add panic attacks on top of that well that was the final straw. They even thought being an artist wasn’t a ‘real job’.”

  “I love you and I don’t have a problem with the fact that you’re gay,” Solomon winked at Mathieu to get him to smile and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “I think you’re a very talented artist,” he planted a kiss to Mathieu’s other cheek. “I think you’re gorgeous and funny and smart and a great cook and did I mention gorgeous? And I think you’re love of strawberries in very intriguing.”

  Mathieu laughed and wiped away a few tears, “I love strawberries. I always have them.” The brunette picked up his head; eyes twinkling and tackled Solomon to the sofa.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mathieu didn’t sleep well that night. He tossed and turned going over everything he and Solomon had said that evening. He was sure he wanted Solomon in his life but was it love? Yes, he thought it was but he couldn’t say it just yet. He knew he had to get better first. He also felt that he had to leave Solomon with a way out if things didn’t go well and he didn’t want Solomon to feel trapped by an ‘I love you too’. If Solomon thought his feelings weren’t returned it would be easier for him to get out of the relationship if he needed too. The minute Mathieu said it there would be no going back. But Mathieu could do little things that would show the blonde how he felt without actually saying it. After all, saying it and showing it were two entirely different things. This morning he would make strawberry mini-tarts. He looked at the clock; 4 am; there wa
s just enough time.

  He jumped out of bed, retrieved his recipe and gathered the ingredients. The first thing to make was the filling. He put a saucepan on the stove and added the milk, vanilla bean and seeds. While that simmered he mixed together the sugar and egg yolks in a bowl. He strained cornstarch and flour into the egg mix and stirred. When the milk started to simmer he removed the saucepan from the heat and the vanilla bean from the saucepan and slowly added the egg mixture while whisking. The brunette returned the saucepan to the heat and whisked for another two minutes. After the mixture was strained the butter, zest and salt were added. He poured the cream into a bowl and placed a sheet of plastic wrap over the top to prevent a skin from forming before putting the bowl into the fridge to chill for two hours. He cleaned up the workspace then set about making the pastry. He mixed the melted butter, sugar, salt and flour until it was well combined; he lined the pastry cups with the dough and put them into the fridge to set.

  He had time before he had to finish the tarts so he sat down at his drafting table and added a puppy to the sketch of little Solomon sitting by the tree holding the upside down book. Satisfied with the outcome he scanned all the sketches and sent them in an email to his boss. He opened a new email and sent the scans to Solomon so he could send them to his mom.

  By the time the Irishman was done with the sketching and emailing it was time to cook the pastry shells. Once the oven came to temperature he put the pastry shells in to cook for twenty minutes. While he waited for the shells to cook and then cool he prepared the strawberries for the topping and more strawberries, oranges, melon and grapes for fruit salad. Once the shells had cooled completely he filled them with the cream and arranged the sliced strawberries on top. When he was satisfied with the arrangement of the strawberries he began to prepare the rest of the breakfast.

  The minute he heard his neighbor moving around in his flat Mathieu listened to the sounds of the blonde getting ready for work. It was like listening to the old Solomon, the Solomon he was before the flu knocked him out. And yet, he missed taking care of the sick man. It was nice to have somebody around all day to keep him company even though the man slept most of the time. It was such a welcome change from his normal routine; get up, dress, breakfast, check emails, research or sketch, lunch, check emails, more work, make dinner, work-out, shower, more work, bed; repeat same, six days a week for two years. Two lonely years. The seventh day was spent cleaning or cooking, and reading or watching movies. He thought he bore it rather well. He had his boss to talk to a few times a week, he talked to the grocer when he needed to place an order and there was the messenger who came when necessary. ‘God’, Mathieu thought, ‘what a pathetic life’. But now there was Solomon, a golden-haired, blue-eyed gift from God. If having panic attacks was a punishment then Solomon was the reward. ‘Okay, that’s enough of that’, Mathieu sighed and rolled his eyes at himself, ‘time for breakfast’.

  Mathieu had breakfast finished and ready just as Solomon knocked on his door which had been propped open with a book. “Morning,” Solomon called from the doorway before setting down his briefcase and the box of pictures and taking off his jacket, “I don’t know what you’re cooking but it smells great, like usual.”

  “Good morning,” Mathieu called back coming over for a kiss, “I went kinda crazy this morning. I have strawberry mini-tarts, eggs, bacon, toast, fruit salad, orange juice and coffee. You don’t have to eat everything. I thought options would be nice.”

  For a minute all Solomon could do was stare at the brunette in front of him and shake his head in disbelief. When he came back to himself he asked, “Just how long have you been up?”

  Mathieu shrugged, “I don’t think I ever actually went to sleep. I lay down but I tossed and turned so I got up and made tarts. Oh, and I also made you a sandwich to take for lunch if you want it.”

  “Was something bothering you that you couldn’t sleep? Maybe you were thinking about my kisses?” Solomon stalked his way up to the brunette and threw his arms around his waist and turned his face up to plant a kiss on the stubbly jaw.

  Mathieu smirked down at the blonde, “yeah, I’m sure that was it,” he teased. “Sit and eat please. Everything is getting cold.”

  “Knowing you is going to make me so fat,” Solomon said sitting and surveying the bounty before him. “I should start giving you money to help pay for all this. I’m starting to feel guilty that you’re doing all this for me.”

  “Oh, stop. What else do I have to spend my money on? I enjoy cooking and doing it for someone else, for you, makes me happy.” He kissed Solomon on the top of the head before taking the seat across from him.

  “I don’t understand how you’re so thin with all this good food you make.”

  Mathieu blushed, “It’s easy. When I get my grocery delivery I portion everything out to meal sizes that way I only use what I need.”

  “And how does that explain your six pack abs?”

  At that Mathieu turned scarlet, “What? How do you know that?”

  “I had my hand under your shirt last night, remember? After you tackled me.”

  If it were possible for someone to blush any deeper Mathieu did as he smiled at the memory, “I remember.”

  “Well then, explain those abs. Come on, I’m waiting,” the Cheshire cat grin never left his face.

  “I work out for an hour six days a week. I have a weight set in the bedroom closet, I do sit ups and squats. The only thing I can’t do is run. I miss doing that. I used to run a lot. I was even thinking about training to do the marathon before…..you know. I’m thinking about getting an elliptical so I can do cardio.”

  Solomon took the Irishman’s hand, “I know. Anders used to run too, before he opened the steakhouse. I’m not sure he ever planned on doing a marathon though. I’m going to have to join a gym to keep up with you. Anyway you’re in really good shape.” Mathieu blushed again.

  They ate and talked more over breakfast; Solomon making all kinds of contented noises after every bite. When they were finished Mathieu filled a travel mug with more coffee for Solomon and handed him a bag with the sandwich in it. “Will you be home at the usual time?”

  “I should be. I’ll call you if I’m going to be late,” the blonde turned his head up for a good-bye kiss, "I love you."

  Mathieu asked, “Would you like to help me cook or would you like it to be ready when you get home?”

  Solomon replied, “I’d love to help but let’s see how the day goes. If I’m going to be late I wouldn’t want you to have to wait for me. Okay? I’ll call you later, yeah? I love you.” One more good-bye kiss and Solomon was off to work.

  ***

  Things were kind of slow for Solomon at work so he pulled out the information he had on the psychiatrists in the area. He knew that Mathieu had to seek help for himself but there was nothing stopping him from getting some advice. He called the first number but was advised that he’d have to make an appointment for a consultation which he didn’t want to do yet. The second number was answered by a service; he left a message for the doctor asking her to return his call. He also had to leave a message for the third doctor who was with a client.

  Through the day both doctors called him back. He explained to each about Mathieu’s situation and asked what he should do to help. Only the second doctor was willing to discuss the case with Solomon without a fee and over the phone. What she told him confirmed what he had read online and she told him that he was doing the right thing by educating himself. She told him to stay calm when Mathieu had an attack, reassure him that he was safe and you won’t let anything happen bad to him, acknowledge his small victories and praise him when he tries something no matter how small, listen to him if he wants to talk, be patient and don’t force him into anything he’s not willing to do and most importantly try to get Mathieu to seek professional help. She even told Solomon to make sure his own quality of life didn’t suffer while Mathieu worked through his problem. If he had plans he should stick with them but th
at helping Mathieu overcome his disorder could be very rewarding for their relationship. It could improve communication, foster trust and enhance intimacy. Solomon’s kindness, empathy, patience, understanding and love were the most effective instruments for Mathieu’s recovery.

  Solomon asked her if she would see Mathieu at his flat if he would accept her help. He was so relieved when she said she would. She couldn’t go over what kind of treatment she would recommend because that would depend on Mathieu and what he required but she did confirm that some sort of medication would probably be needed and it would take time to find the right one and dosage. He thanked her and told her that either he’d call her again or hopefully Mathieu would.

  The next thing he did was call Mathieu and tell him that he’d be home on time and that he’d love to help cook their dinner.

  ***

  On the menu that night for dinner was Greek Skillet Lasagna with a small side salad and Galaktoboureko for dessert. Mathieu placed his grocery order with a few extras added for the dessert. After Solomon called to confirm what time he’d be home Mathieu set his time table for prep. He’d make the dessert ahead of time so it would be ready after they ate the main course. He’d have Solomon do most of the work on the entrée and they’d make the salad together while the lasagna cooked.