Solomon put on his pouty face, “No. He wouldn’t let me.”
“That’s because I remember what happened the last time I let you help me in the kitchen. My mother still grimaces every time she looks at the wall where the scorch marks used to be.”
“Grease fire?” Mathieu asked.
Anders nudged Solomon with his foot and laughed, “He knows you so well.” Anders turned his head to Mathieu, “Did he almost burn your kitchen down too?”
“No,” Mathieu replied, “I don’t let him near anything flammable.”
Solomon’s pout got bigger, “What is this, two against one now? Anders, you’re a bad influence on him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re putting ideas in his head. I cook perfectly well now. Don’t I, Matt?”
“Yes, you do, love.” Mathieu smiled and held his hand out to his boyfriend who gladly took it.
“Besides, Anders I can tease but not you, so it’s not fair, the two of you teasing me.”
Anders huffed, “Why can’t you tease him?”
“Because….he’s perfect.” Solomon beamed. The three men were silent for a minute then they broke out laughing.
When Mathieu had caught his breath he said, “Um…I don’t mean to change the subject, even though Solomon is right about me being perfect, but do either of you know where my sketch pad is? I had it earlier on the stairs.” Mathieu wanted to do a sketch of Anders as a surprise and a thank you for taking care of him.
Anders looked at Mathieu, “You didn’t have it when I saw you outside. I’ll run down and see if I can find it.”
As Anders left the room Solomon reminded him to prop the door open with the book. A few minutes later they heard Anders returning but he didn’t come straight to them. When he finally entered the bedroom he had the pad wrapped in a towel from the bathroom, “I’m so sorry Mathieu. I found it in a puddle. I’m afraid the sketches are ruined.” He handed the bundle to the frowning artist who shoved his empty plate aside.
Mathieu laid the towel and pad onto the bed and gently leafed through the pages, “I’m going to need a roll of paper towels, the waxed paper, scissors and some big, heavy books from the shelves.”
Solomon jumped off the bed to get the first three items from the kitchen and Anders turned to face the bookshelves and began to pull out the largest and heaviest books. When Solomon got back Mathieu took the scissors and carefully cut the damaged sketches out of the book as close to the binding as he could. He asked Anders to hand him one of the larger books then placed it on the floor, next he ripped off a piece of waxed paper and set it on top of the book. Mathieu asked Solomon to rip apart the roll of paper towels and lay some on top of the waxed paper before putting the first sketch down. The artist placed sheets of paper towel over the sketch, laid on another piece of waxed paper and then topped it off with another one of the books. Every damaged sketch was sandwiched between books with layers of waxed paper and paper towels.
The three stood next to each other surveying the little piles, “Will that save the sketches?” Solomon asked.
“That will help the sketches dry and keep the paper flat. Every so often I’ll replace the damp paper towels with fresh ones. I’ll have to redo some of the pencil work and if there are water stains I’ll have to photo shop them out once the sketches are scanned.”
“Forgive me,” Anders said, “but wouldn’t it be easier to re-sketch?”
“If the pages dry without any water damage I can easily trace over what I’ve already done. That will be faster than re-sketching the whole picture. Any water stains can easily be removed on the computer. They’re rough sketches so they don’t have to be perfect but I’ll get them as close as I can.”
Solomon was glad Mathieu had something to get him out of bed. The way the Irishman had been acting earlier had Solomon afraid that it would be a challenge to get him up. Solomon smiled wide-eyed up at his boyfriend who caught him staring.
Mathieu blushed as he noticed Solomon watching him, “What?”
“It’s nothing. You look different. You look like you do when you’re concentrating in the kitchen.”
“How do I look?” Mathieu cocked his head to the side in curiosity.
“You look confident and so sure of yourself.” Solomon walked up to his boyfriend and cupped the stubbly jaw in his hands; he leaned in close and whispered, “It’s very sexy.” He drew the Irishman down into a steamy kiss.
Anders shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot next to the kissing couple and ran a hand through his hair, “I’ll just be going then shall I,” the couple heard Anders but didn’t break apart. “Don’t forget about the dishes on the bed. I’ll see you, Solomon. Mathieu, I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah? Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
They didn’t care about the dishes on the bed. After all they had access to another one and it was the other one they need to get to (because that’s where the lube and condoms were). They kissed and rubbed against each other as they made their way from Mathieu’s into Solomon’s where they made love for the second time.
***
The couple was dozing, curled up around each other when Elise called later that afternoon for details on what had happened. Solomon slipped from the bed to take the call in the kitchen signaling to his lover that he'd be right back. Solomon explained about Adrian pushing Mathieu out the front door and how, thankfully, Anders was there to intercept him before an attack could happen. He also told the doctor that Mathieu had a nightmare but he didn’t know what it was about. She asked him about Mathieu’s current condition and he blushed (thankful that she couldn’t see him) and told her that he was resting. He went on to tell her that after a while Mathieu was distracted by the damaged sketches and the doctor said that that was a good thing because it took the artist’s mind off earlier events. She asked Solomon not to push Mathieu about the nightmare and that she would ask about it in the following day’s session along with his thoughts and feelings about what Adrian did.
Mathieu appeared from the bedroom just as Solomon was ending the call, “Come back to bed.”
“I’m not tired anymore.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” with a wink Mathieu pivoted and returned to the bedroom sure that the blonde would follow him.
A little while later the two were cuddled together on the bed again when Solomon reminded Mathieu about the mess in the other flat but Mathieu wasn't ready to move yet. The brunette was sprawled across Solomon’s chest listening to the strong, steady heartbeat. Solomon’s hands threaded through the brunette curls gently massaging the scalp underneath. It had been so long since he had felt a connection with a partner but what he's found with Solomon went so much deeper. Solomon said that he felt it when they first met; Mathieu hadn’t believed him then but he did now. There was a feeling inside he’d never had before. It went beyond Solomon’s patience and understanding to something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn't trust. It wasn't lust. It wasn't sympathy or empathy. There was a genuine calm, tolerance and quiet strength Solomon possessed that spoke to his soul like nothing ever had before.
“Solomon?”
“Yes love.”
Mathieu didn’t respond so Solomon, trying to keep any dread out of his voice, asked, “What is it? Are you alright?”
Mathieu only wriggled closer into the body beneath him; lifting his head and burying his face into the crook of the blonde’s neck. Solomon locked his arms around his boyfriends back, “Baby, what’s wrong?” Mathieu still didn’t respond but Solomon didn’t want to push him away to look at him so he just held on tighter and waited until Mathieu was ready to talk. The blonde wasn’t worried per se because he knew it wasn't an attack his lover was having but he thought that Mathieu needed comforted because he was dwelling on what Adrian had done.
Mathieu couldn’t find the words to express what he was feeling, ‘I love you’ wouldn’t even begin to cover it; overwhelmed with emotions from the events of the day and his feelings for Solomon he did th
e only thing he could; he cried.
Again Solomon assumed that Mathieu was upset over what Adrian did and Solomon knew he had to get Mathieu to talk about what was bothering him but he had to do it gently, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe. He won’t bother you again.”
Between Mathieu’s sobs Solomon managed to understand, “Not” and “him” and “afraid” and “you” and “love” and “much”.
“Oh, baby, it’s alright. Please don’t cry. I love you too, so much.”
The next thing Solomon made out was, “More.”
“Oh, you love me more do you? I think I love you more.”
Solomon could feel Mathieu’s head shaking, springy curls brushing against his bare chest, “No, me.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s me.”
“No, Solomon, me.” Mathieu whined.
“Okay, if you say it like that; you.” Solomon felt Mathieu smile against his chest as the sobbing subsided. He wanted to push and ask ‘what are you afraid of’ but he didn’t. Instead he said as he patted the Irishman on the back, “We need to get your place cleaned up and you have to change the paper towels drying the sketches.”
After a few more minutes of cuddling they finally made it back to the artist’s flat and while Solomon took the dishes to the kitchen Mathieu replaced the damp paper towels with dry ones. With that done Mathieu returned to his front room to find Solomon going through his recipe box, “Looking for something particular?”
“No, just looking. You have a lot of chicken recipes and a lot of dessert recipes with strawberries.” Solomon raised his eyebrow at the Irishman knowing that strawberries were Mathieu’s aphrodisiac.
Mathieu eyed the recipe box, “I was thinking about putting the recipes in a computer program but there’s something, I don’t know, quaint about a little recipe box on the kitchen counter.”
Solomon closed the recipe box and slid it back into its place on the counter, “You’re right. This can’t be all the recipes you have though.”
Mathieu opened a cabinet door next to the fridge and pulled out a huge binder labeled, of course, ‘recipes’, “Why don’t you look through this and pull out a few. You can try cooking them on your own for us and we’ll add them to the recipe box if you’d like.”
Solomon hefted up the binder, laid it on the dining table and began to leaf through it. Mathieu had it separated into sections, ‘appetizers’, ‘vegetable sides’, ‘other sides’, ‘chicken’, ‘beef’, ‘pork’, ‘other meats’, ‘apple desserts’, ‘chocolate desserts’, ‘strawberry desserts’, ‘other desserts’ and ‘miscellaneous’. The blonde started with the ‘beef’ section since Mathieu had cubed beef thawing in the fridge for dinner. As Solomon flipped back and forth through the recipes the look on his face became more and more distressed, “These look so complicated. I don’t know if I could make any of this.”
Mathieu put a hand over Solomon’s stilling Solomon’s flipping, “Okay. Change of plans. I’ll instruct you on how to make my beef stew and while it’s cooking we’ll go through the book together and pick out some simpler recipes. And you can always go online a find some recipes for things you like too. You don’t have to make something I have.”
Solomon breathed a sigh of relief, “I like that plan. If there’s onions though, they’re all yours.”
Mathieu laughed as he returned to the kitchen. The first thing the Irishman had his love do was remove all the needed ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, carrots, potatoes, onion, beef stock, flour and the beef cubes. While a Dutch oven on the stovetop heated up Solomon measured some flour into a plastic bag, dropped in half of the beef cubes, closed and shook the bag. He removed the floured beef cubes with a slotted spoon shaking off as much of the flour as he could then dumped in the rest of the cubes, shook and removed those also. Very carefully he dropped the floured cubes into the hot oil in the Dutch oven and stirred every few minutes until the beef was browned. Next he dumped in the chopped onion Mathieu had given him and stirred until browned. The rest of the chopped vegetables were added to the pot with enough of the beef stock to cover. After some salt and pepper were added he stirred making sure to scrape up any bits of beef that got stuck to the bottom of the pot in the browning process. Finally the lid was placed on the pot and the heat turned down too low.
While the stew cooked the two sat next to each other at the dining table and flipped through the binder of recipes. Mathieu helped Solomon see that just because some of the recipes have a lot of ingredients that didn’t mean they were difficult to make. If he prepared the ingredients like he did with the stew, before he started to cook, and followed the recipe everything would go smoothly. Solomon could certainly see the logic in what Mathieu said and agreed to broaden his ideas on recipes. By the time dinner was ready they were on the dessert section and Solomon refused to stop browsing as he ate even after Mathieu threatened him with bodily injury if he got any stew on the binder.
After dinner they planned the week’s menu so Mathieu could order any groceries they would need and know what meats to defrost. When that was done they curled up on the sofa to watch some TV before going to bed.
Once back in the bedroom with nothing to distract him the Irishman was restless; tossing and turning as he tried to find a comfortable spot. “Solomon?”
Unable to relax due to the Irishman’s fidgeting Solomon said sleepily, “Yes love?”
“She’s going to make me talk about what happened today, isn’t she?”
“Yes love.”
“And my nightmare?”
“Yes love,” Solomon was surprised; he didn’t think Mathieu had heard any of the conversation he had earlier with Dr. Elise. Solomon turned onto his back and held open his arms. The brunette snuggled up close, rested his head on Solomon’s chest and fell asleep to the steady sound of his love’s heartbeat.
CHAPTER 15
‘This isn’t good’, Elise thought when she didn’t see Mathieu sitting somewhere on the stairs waiting for her. She reviewed what she learned from Solomon over the phone the day before as she climbed the rest of the way to the second floor and pushed open Mathieu’s door. The doctor saw her client bundled under some blankets on the sofa; his eyes were puffy and red and he was sniffling. At first she thought he simply had a head cold but she realized she was wrong when he began to speak.
“I….I….can’t…..couldn’t…down..stairs….” the Irishman buried his face in the blankets and cried.
She thought a set-back was possible but didn’t think it would be this bad. Elise went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. He took it from her and sipped it between sobs. She sat in what had become her usual chair and tried to calm him down. “Mathieu, try to take deep breaths. Everything is going to be alright. Just breathe.” While Mathieu breathed and sipped and sobbed she made her notes until he was calm enough to talk.
Elise asked him to tell her about what happened that morning. He explained to her that everything was fine until he went to walk down the stairs with Solomon, to see him off to work, but he couldn’t get past the first one. Solomon had held him and told him that it was okay until he calmed down enough to go back into the apartment. They sat for a while wrapped in the blanket until Solomon had to leave. And there he had remained crying on and off over his failure.
The doctor stopped him right then, “It’s not failure,” she assured him, “it’s a small set-back. Once your confidence comes back with the first step down you’ll be back in front of the door in no time. You know you can do it because you’re done it before. Tell me about yesterday.”
Mathieu took small comfort in her assurance and told her how he was sitting with the door open sketching when Adrian came in, they exchanged a few words about his progress and how Solomon had helped him then Adrian pushed him out the door.
“Do you know why he did it?”
“No.”
“What exactly did you say to each other?”
“He was surprised to see me sitting
down there and I said that I was able to get down there with Solomon’s help. He said that Solomon was a great guy and I agreed then I said something like we loved each other and that I was hoping that when he came back from brunch that Solomon would help me go outside. Adrian stepped closer to me, said ‘why wait’ and shoved me out the door.”
“How much time was there between you’re being pushed out and Anders holding you?”
“It was only seconds.”
“Did you feel any attack symptoms?”
“Not really, I was shaking but I think it’s only because of the shock of being pushed. And then Anders was right there so I really didn’t have the time to process much.”
“You felt safe with Anders,” Elise had learned all about Solomon and his friends over the sessions they’d been having.
“Yes, once I knew it was him. Anders is really nice.”
“How long did it take before you realized it was him?”
“He told me right away and I recognized his voice. I buried my face in his chest and closed my eyes. He was telling me that I was safe and that he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Then Solomon was there pulling me away from him and we went inside.”
“After that, yesterday afternoon, you were fine.”
“Yes, except for the nightmare. Anders cooked brunch and then they helped me try to prevent some sketches from being destroyed.”
“Tell me about the nightmare.”
“I was outside somewhere and my head started spinning. Everyone was pointing and laughing at me. The crowd was closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe or get away. I was telling them to stop and get back but they came closer and closer. They were breathing in all the air. Then I felt hands on me but it was Solomon trying to wake me up.”
“Did you have any attack symptoms when you woke?”
“I felt weak but not dizzy or short of breath or anything. When I sat up Solomon and I banged our heads together then he held me. I always feel safe with him.”
“And this morning when you went to see Solomon off, did you have attack symptoms?”
The Sweet Tooth Page 13
