A Full Plate

by Kim Fielding

  AFTER an enormous dinner followed by full helpings of emotional turmoil, Tully wouldn’t have thought himself capable of eating anything else. Yet here he was, seated at the kitchen table with Sage and with nothing but a few crumbs remaining from a slice of pumpkin pie and a scoop of cranberry-pear cobbler.

  Sage pointed his spoon at an untouched pie. “Mincemeat?”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “Can’t have Thanksgiving without mincemeat. I should have made apple too.”

  “I am fairly certain that neither of us will starve without. What’s in mincemeat, anyway?” He eyed the pastry suspiciously.

  “Fruit, citrus peel, brandy, and sirloin. Back when my uncle Roy used to hunt, I made the pie with venison.”

  So some versions really did contain meat. Weird. “I’ll have some for breakfast.”

  “It’s extra good with some cheddar.”

  Tully could never be anything but charmed by the enthusiasm that flowed from Sage as he talked about food, so he reached over and captured Sage’s free hand. “It’s been kind of an odd Thanksgiving. And the best ever. I bet you guys had huge family shindigs.”

  “We’d gather at my grandparents’ house. Dad and his parents would do all the cooking, but I got to help. Everybody came—aunts, uncles, cousins, and anybody in town who had nowhere else to go. Grandma and Grandpa kept two folding tables in the shed, and they’d bring them out for every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Grandma would cover them in butcher paper and give all the little kids crayons so they could decorate.”

  Sage’s expression held some sorrow, but mostly warmth and happiness. As he described the scene, Tully could easily imagine delicious food smells wafting from the kitchen, the boisterous good cheer of children and adults. Carrie probably ruled over the kids’ tables, maybe directing the coloring projects, but Sage must have concentrated mostly on the cooking. Tully’s childhood Thanksgivings had been catered, served by hired staff on expensive china, and the guests wore bespoke suits and designer evening gowns. He envied Sage.

  Eventually Tully stood and began clearing the table. With some difficulty, he found room in the fridge for the leftover desserts. Then, as Sage leaned against the counter nearby and watched, Tully washed the plates and silverware.

  When he was done, Sage handed him a towel, and Tully dried his hands.

  “You want to hear about Kayley?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Tully thought they’d go into the living room, but they returned to the kitchen table. He should have known that Sage would prefer to have an important conversation in the kitchen. But then Sage stood, walked to the counter, and began his story while using the espresso machine.

  “So being gay was not real cool in Hair Shaker in the late nineties. And I figured… well, I guess I figured that if I dated girls, if I tried really hard to be straight, maybe I’d get used to it. Like how I hated scallops the first time I ate them, but after I tried them a few different ways, I got to where I could stand them.” He turned his head to grin over his shoulder. “They’re still not my favorites, though.”

  “And the strategy didn’t work with heterosexuality either?”

  “Nope.” Sage grew silent, waiting for the machine to finish grinding and pouring. Then he carried the little white cups to the table and sat down.

  “So you dated girls,” Tully prompted.

  “Well, one girl. I was busy with high school and the Station. Her name was Jessica and she was really pretty. Kayley looks a lot like her. She was smart too. I was struggling in my English class, and Jessica offered to help. Things just naturally seemed to fall into place. She’d come to the Station and do homework with me after school, and we’d hang out on Sundays. After a while we started fooling around. I was gay, but I was also sixteen, and you know how it is at that age.” He gazed at Tully. “You ever sleep with girls?”

  Tully laughed. “I went to an all-boy boarding school.”

  “But later? College?”

  “My sophomore year I went out with a girl whose parents were friends of my dad’s. We slept together a few times, but let’s just say the results were not enough to convert me. Actually, last I heard, she was dating another woman. So I guess I didn’t impress.”

  Hmm. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to admit to the man he desperately wanted in his bed. But Sage chuckled. “Well, you gave it the old college try, at least.” His expression turned serious. “And you didn’t get her pregnant.”

  “You and Jessica had different luck, huh?”

  “We were seniors in high school, and Jess had a good scholarship to a college back East. Her parents kept telling her to give the baby up for adoption, but I wanted that kid. I loved her from the moment I knew she existed. That sounds stupid, huh?”

  “No. It doesn’t.” Tully’s heart pulsed with a slow ache.

  Sage hadn’t touched his espresso, and now he stared into his cup as if he were reading tea leaves. He had big hands, his fingers long and broad and his nails ragged but clean. Tully wanted to trace the blue rivers of his veins and lick the hard ridges of his knuckles.

  “I didn’t have any college plans,” Sage continued. “And Mom and Dad were actually pretty excited about the idea of a grandchild—once they got over being pissed at me. So Kayley was mine. I mean, with a lot of help from my parents, sure. But mine. Hang on.”

  He hurried out of the room and returned with a battered wallet, which he opened and turned so Tully had a good view of the plastic-sleeved photos. First was Kayley as a newborn, with chubby cheeks and a shock of dark hair that stood up like a mohawk. That picture was followed by several more: a toddler in a lion costume, a gap-toothed girl with a backpack almost as big as she was, a middle-schooler in mid eye roll. Now that Tully knew who she was and had the chance to look at her closely, he could see the resemblance to Sage. Kayley might have had her mother’s coloring, but she had her father’s firm chin and expressive eyebrows. She even had his quirk of a smile.

  “She’s beautiful,” Tully said honestly. “And she looks happy. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

  “I’ve tried. Jess headed east a couple months after Kayley was born. She kept in touch, but you know, her life was moving in a different direction. And in the middle of her freshman year, she caught the flu and died.”

  “Jesus!”

  Sage shook his head slowly. “Who expects an eighteen-year-old to die from the flu? Her parents moved away from Hair Shaker not long afterward. They didn’t want anything to do with Kayley.”

  “I can’t imagine being a single parent at all, let alone so young.”

  “I’m not gonna lie—it was rough. But my family helped. And when she smiles and calls me Daddy, I can forget a lot of the hard parts.” After giving the photos a last fond look, Sage closed the wallet and put it in his pocket. Then he downed his entire espresso in one go.

  “Is she staying with your mom?” Tully asked.

  “Yeah. We were already sharing a house. And Mom’s having knee issues, so having a teenager around is a good thing for her too. They help each other.”

  “And Kayley’s the same age now that you were when—”

  “When I knocked up her mother. Yep. Only Kayley’s got a lot more sense than I did.” He toyed with his empty cup. “Every penny I can, I give to them. The house is paid for, but there’s food, utilities, all that. It’s why I’m so grateful to you.”

  “I’ve benefited too.”

  “You do like my cooking,” Sage said, smiling.

  “I like you.”

  The earlier heat between them hadn’t disappeared entirely, and now it increased again as if someone had turned the knob on a stove. But Tully wanted to hear the outcome of this tale—he’d learned the past and present, but the future loomed. “What happens after your year in Portland?”

  “Less than ten months now. Kayley goes to the U of O. She wants to be a marine biologist,” he added proudly.

  “And you?”

  “I can
get a line-cook job in Eugene as well as I can here. I’ll move down there with her. I know college kids don’t exactly dream of living with Dad, but if she gets some good financial aid, my pay should be enough to keep us fed and housed. Mom’ll probably sell the place in Hair Shaker and move in with her sister in Burns.” His voice sounded strained at that, and he ducked his head. He’d already lost his beloved restaurant, and next year he’d lose his home as well.

  And Tully would lose Sage entirely.

  An idea crossed Tully’s mind and was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I can pay for you—”

  “No,” Sage said fiercely. “We’re not your charity case.”

  “But you’re my friend, aren’t you? Friends help each other out.”

  “You’re already doing a lot for me. Tully, I’ve got only an ounce of pride left in me, and I don’t think I could stand to lose it.”

  All right. So Tully couldn’t fix Sage’s problems by throwing money at them. That made sense, because money hadn’t solved all of Tully’s problems either—although it helped ease a few.

  Ignoring the remains of his coffee, Tully stood. “That kissing thing… are we sure it’s not a fluke?” He smiled.

  Grinning back, Sage rose to his feet. “I’m up for some additional testing.”

  THEY kissed in the kitchen. Then in the dining room. And then down the length of hallway, where they repeatedly clunked into the walls and didn’t care. By the time they reached Tully’s bedroom, they’d confidently concluded that the initial kisses were not a fluke. They were both breathless and tousled, their lips reddened and their clothing in disarray. Tully wanted to pounce on Sage immediately.

  As far as Tully knew, Sage had never been in his bedroom. Yet he didn’t take even a cursory look around. He leered, stripped off his T-shirt, and sat on the bed.

  “Good mattress,” he said, bouncing a bit. Then he leaped to his feet and threw himself against Tully with such gusto they both nearly fell.

  “It’s been a long, long time for me, lawyer boy.”

  “Define long.”

  “Three years.”

  “Holy crap! Were you considering the priesthood?”

  Sage groped Tully’s jeans-clad ass. “Not a whole lot of hookup opportunities in Hair Shaker. I’ve been out for a long time, and nobody there really cares, but we don’t exactly have a thriving LGBT scene. And when Dad got sick, I couldn’t even escape for a day or two.”

  Tully decided he needed to grope too. Sage’s ass was meaty and firm—and it felt even better than it looked. The skin on his back was hot and smooth, his muscles powerful. “But you’ve been in Portland for a few months.”

  “Without spare time.”

  It hadn’t been three years for Tully, but he hadn’t spent his recent life as a sexual dynamo either. Sometimes he used Grindr—no fuss, no muss—but he hadn’t done that often. The last time had been a few weeks before Sage moved in.

  Man, they were going to go off like rockets.

  Tully leaned in to snuffle at the crook of Sage’s neck. He’d never thought of himself as a sensuous type. He didn’t pet soft fabrics, didn’t pay much attention to music other than as a way to relax. He’d never attended an art gallery or museum of his own volition. And although he liked the views from his condo windows, he wasn’t the sort to rhapsodize over sunsets. Yet he couldn’t get enough of Sage: the scent of him, the feel of his solid body and soft skin, the sight of him eager and flushed, the groaning little grunts of pleasure he made as they touched each other.

  As Tully continued to move his palms over Sage’s back, pressing lightly against the knobs of his spine, Sage impatiently untucked Tully’s shirt. But while Tully expected Sage’s movements to mirror his own, instead Sage wormed his hand between them so he could feel Tully’s belly and abs.

  “I think I gained ten pounds tonight,” said Tully, suddenly self-conscious.

  “You’re perfect. But Tully, you’d be just as perfect if you gained a hundred pounds.”

  That made Tully stop. “Really?” He knew why men were attracted to him—his money and his looks. Sage didn’t seem to care much about the wealth, as long as he had a place to live, so Tully had assumed it must be his toned body and symmetrical face that Sage liked.

  Sage laughed against Tully’s cheek. “Undress.”

  Tully’s sweater was expensive, a Burberry pullover of extra-fine merino. He tugged it over his head and tossed it aside as if he’d found it in a Walmart clearance bin. He threw his T-shirt too. And then he set a land-speed record for skimming out of jeans, socks, and underwear. Not the most graceful stripping, but he got the job done.

  Sage was a little more leisurely in his efforts.

  “Those aren’t Andrew Christians,” Tully said, pointing.

  “Yeah, well, I can’t exactly afford to drop twenty bucks on a pair of boxers. Especially when I didn’t expect to be showing ’em to anyone.”

  “You look fine in Hanes. But I bet you look even better without.”

  Chuckling, Sage shed the rest of his clothes.

  Then they were standing, pressed together again, only this time without any obnoxious cotton or wool between them. It was just skin on skin, and Sage must have had a higher than average body temperature, because he felt like an oven. Tully melted against him like butter on freshly baked bread.

  Next, Sage surprised him, pushing against Tully and propelling him backward until his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he toppled. Sage blanketed him at once. And then there was a breathless, moaning flurry of hands and mouths and tongues, and although Tully would have liked to memorize every inch of Sage, his higher brain functions had gone offline. He was little more than a big bundle of nerves, and all those nerves sang at Sage’s touch.

  Frantic himself, Sage managed to wrap one strong hand around both their lengths and give a few urgent tugs. Tully gripped Sage’s shoulders, twined his legs around Sage’s waist, and howled.

  A few minutes later, they lay sprawled side by side on the comforter, breathless and sticky.

  “Well,” Sage said, “that sort of lacked finesse.”

  “But we made up for it in enthusiasm.”

  “And we did make it to the bed—barely—so extra points for that.” Sage clasped Tully’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

  “Considering the amount of food we’ve consumed today, I think we get all the points for being able to move at all.” Tully rolled toward Sage so he could pet Sage’s chest with his free hand. “And I like moving with you.”

  Smiling softly, Sage reached up to touch Tully’s face. “You’re not what I expected at all.”

  “Um, is that good?”

  “Very. Carrie didn’t tell me much about you, other than that you were a good guy. But I figured you’d be this rich lawyer type.”

  “I am—”

  “Yeah, yeah, a rich lawyer. But you’re not the type. Not the stereotype anyway. You’re… kinda sweet, actually.”

  “Sweet?” Nobody had ever called him that before. Handsome, yes. Smart. Hardworking. But Sage was stroking his cheek and looking up at him all doe-eyed, and for a few minutes at least, Tully felt sweet.

  After a time they crawled under the blankets. And although Tully expected Sage to cuddle awhile—maybe even try for a second round—and then leave, that wasn’t what happened. Instead Sage pulled him close and mumbled contentedly into Tully’s ear. And then they both slipped into sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE end of November and the bulk of December passed like a dream. Tully still put in long hours—as did Sage—so they didn’t see enough of each other. But no matter how late he’d been at the restaurant, Sage always slipped into Tully’s bed. And no matter how early Tully had to work, Sage would get up just so they could have a few minutes to talk. Or have sex. Or both. They also had chunks of time together on Saturdays and Sundays, when they’d go shopping or take a walk or hang out together in the kitchen.

  It wasn’t exactly dating, Tully though
t. No movies or clubs, no dinners out. Certainly no afternoons windsurfing on the Columbia. But it was something better than dating—it was a relationship. A doomed one to be sure, since eventually Sage would move on, but it was more than Tully had hoped for.

  Sage was able to get three nights off over Christmas, and of course he spent them with his mother and daughter in Hair Shaker. Tully immersed himself in work and tried to pretend this Christmas was like his previous ones—an opportunity to catch up on his sleep, exercise a bit more than usual, and do all his research and writing at home in comfortable clothes instead of in a suit and tie at the office. But when he found himself huddled miserably on the couch watching It’s a Wonderful Life, he knew he was lost.

  The day after Christmas, he went to Sur La Table and, with the help of a friendly saleswoman, bought a five-hundred-dollar pasta machine. He would have bought more—a set of fancy knives, perhaps, or a food processor with so many buttons and attachments it looked capable of taking an astronaut to the moon. But he didn’t want to embarrass Sage by overspending, especially when Sage wasn’t getting him anything. So after having the machine gift-wrapped, Tully brought it home and left it on the kitchen counter. It made him smile.

  Sage arrived back in Portland around noon the following day, when Tully was working diligently on a brief and definitely not squirming in anticipation like an overeager six-year-old. And if Tully leaped to his feet and ran to the door as soon as he heard the lock turn, it was only because he thought Sage might need help with his duffel and jacket.

  In fact Sage just dropped the duffel on the floor and grabbed him in a firm embrace.

  This time they didn’t make it to the bedroom.

  Afterward, as they panted on the hallway floor and Tully rubbed at a sore spot on his knee, Sage glanced at his watch—the only thing he was wearing. “I gotta shower and make you some dinner before I go to work.”

  But when Sage started to stand, Tully grabbed him and pulled him crosswise down onto his lap. “Stay here. Forget work. We’ll both quit our jobs and relocate to a tropical island. We’ll spend our days with umbrella drinks and sand in unmentionable places. You’ll concoct five thousand delicious ways to prepare papaya and coconut, and we’ll both get fat, but we’ll nonetheless wear nothing but Speedos.”