by Posy Roberts
Sebastian couldn’t stop the smirk as he said, “So, it looks like your one good deed for the year is done. You can go home, open a nice crisp, fruity Albariño that pairs well with the charcuterie you’ll spend the night preparing. By the time you’ve sliced the chorizo paper thin, I’m sure you’ll be ready for your second glass.”
“What?” Louis looked utterly perplexed.
“Now, scurry off to enjoy your seaside holiday getaway.”
Louis shoved his hands in his pockets, stared down at his shoes, and kicked the floor before looking back into Sebastian’s eyes. “Look, I don’t know how to say I’m sorry to you so you’ll believe I genuinely mean it. I truly didn’t intend to run into you. But there’s no ‘one good deed for the year’ or whatever you just said. And was that a wine or something else? And there’s no seaside holiday for me. It’s just me at my place doing my best to not feel so utterly goddamn alone.”
“Oh,” Sebastian whispered.
Louis peered into the meager supplies stashed in Sebastian’s cart. Sebastian wanted to hurl his body over it so Louis couldn’t see what he’d subsist on for the next few days. He nearly did.
Damn pride was one of those things that was still held over from his Upper East Side days.
But he resisted, even if Louis may have witnessed the slight flinch.
Louis smiled, warm, in a way that made Sebastian really look at him for the first time. He was graying at the temples, just a bit, but he looked young. Like he’d just walked out of a spa. Everywhere but around his eyes, that was. There he looked older. He’d lived through some shit, and it had changed him. He’d earned those crow’s feet and that crease between his brow.
“Look, I clearly fucked up with you. I’m on my own this Christmas. It’s the first holiday I’ve spent alone since . . .”
“I’m spending Christmas trying not to freeze to death in this hellish storm that’s coming through,” Sebastian admitted, much to his chagrin. Deflect. Make a joke. Do something so you don’t seem pathetic! “But the cold is bound to make sleeping outside a workout. Hence the protein in my cart. I’m protein loading. It’s the new diet. I might gain five pounds of muscle if I’m lucky.” He finished with a chuckle, a little nervous but genuine.
This time when Louis smiled, it was with his whole face, like he thought Sebastian was adorable or funny. Maybe this interaction would end up on Louis’s Instagram, a photo of canned food lined up on the pantry shelf, a gritty black-and-white filter with a smoky vignette, and he’d get a thousand likes for sharing his story about his encounter with a homeless kid. Maybe that’s all this was to him. A game.
“You’re funny,” Louis said. “I like your dark humor. It’s necessary when times are shit, but few understand that. But it gets us through, lets us know we’re not going fucking crazy.” He licked his lips, and Sebastian couldn’t help but track the movement. He even mirrored it.
What the hell is happening?
“And you’re cute,” Louis continued. “Really cute. You remind me of one of my first kisses, actually. I’ve never forgotten his face.”
Not at all what Sebastian expected. Louis was pinging straight, straight, straight, but apparently that wasn’t right.
“And if I didn’t know your answer would be an absolutely not, I’d invite you home with me where I’d cook my dad’s famous blue crab recipe for you. And no, I’ve never offered this to anyone in my entire life.” Louis shrugged. “But alas, I bid you adieu, Bash. Eat up.”
Sebastian was speechless. And when Louis took his thick, warm, made-for-cold-winters coat off and wrapped it around Sebastian’s shoulders, the world blinked out for a second.
It even had a hood.
“Stay warm.”
And in the blink of an eye, Louis was out the door, leaving only frozen wind in his place.
“What the hell was that?” Marvin stomped across the food pantry. “Bash, you can be prickly at times, but geez. That was outright . . .”
“Rude?”
“I don’t think that even covers it. Mostly because I know this guy. I’ve worked with him. He’s one of the kindest, most selfless people I know.”
“He donated fucking crabs to a food pantry, Marvin. Only the privileged would think that’s a proper food donation.”
“Privileged? Maybe he comes across that way now, what with the nice clothes, the jewelry . . .” Marvin pointed to the 14K gold ring on Bash’s finger, the one he disguised as cheap metal by coloring on his skin with a green ballpoint pen that office-supply stores set out as testers.
It was one of the few belongings he still had from his past and . . . and . . .
Fuck, the guy gave me the coat right off his back.
“I watched you let down your guard for a half a minute, Bash.”
“Did I?”
Marvin nodded and pulled Sebastian into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, so Sebastian wrapped his arms around his waist to keep him there. “Yes, you little asshole. You even flirted. And he flirted back, which was quite shocking, now that I think of it. But what’s more shocking is that when you let your defenses down, you’re a really nice guy. I think Louis read a bit of that, for the millisecond you let it show, at least.”
“Oops.”
“It’s not an oops. It’s an ahh, finally.” Marvin stepped away and gave Sebastian a look like never before. So serious. “Listen to me for a minute. This is important. Your cactus impression works out on the streets at keeping you safe, but it’s not gonna open any doors for you. Ever.”
“I know.”
“You’re blind to the kindnesses people willingly offer you, all because of your past. The privilege you marinated in up in your ivory tower gets brushed on every person who reminds you of your old life. But I’m tellin’ ya, Louis is not like that. He’s not gilded, and neither is his life. His daddy is a fisherman, and those crabs he donated, he caught those right out of the ocean today. Louis had good times and shitty ones. I don’t know how bad, but there’s a reason I know Louis. He’s been volunteering, feeding the hungry, building houses for people, donating food. And it’s not once a year. It’s year-round.”
“He sounds too good to be true. Like a fraud.”
Marvin held the door open for a woman struggling against the wind. They both watched her get absorbed in her shopping, but Sebastian suspected there was more Marvin was gearing up for.
“I met Louis as the turkey man. But he was half of a duo. There was also a turkey woman. And they alone, no corporation behind them or anything, donated twenty-five frozen turkeys to families for Thanksgiving. Out of their own pocket. At Christmas, he was back with hams, and she was back with chickens. Kosher, I guess.” He gave a little shrug. “Twenty-five each. And they were back in the spring with chickens and beef in the summer.
“Every year we could count on them. But they worked and donated in between too. Then Mati was pregnant, and Louis was so excited to be a father. He’d tear up as he served the kids so grateful for whatever was put on their tray.
“But that Thanksgiving, only Louis showed up. Mati was gone. Their baby died too. And Louis was a shell of a man. But he still showed up and worked. He donated more and more food to feed more mouths. And you, prickly little fuck that you are, just let the nicest man I’ve ever known walk out the fucking door after he invited you to his house where he would cook you blue crabs that his daddy caught fresh from the Bay this morning. So what are you still doing here?”
Sebastian looked down at his cart, up to Marvin, back to his cart. “I don’t know what to do about my food.”
“I can put it back on the shelf or save it for you.”
“Where did he go?”
“Columbia Heights. And the way I see it, you have two options: stand here looking at your groceries that will barely fill your belly, or let a handsome man cook for you. If you run fast enough, you might catch him. You might get a little time to get to know each other on the Metro.”
“What if I can’t find him?�
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“Text me from the station. I might be able to pull a few strings and get his address. You still got that phone, right?”
He held up his cell, his only link to the world.
“Is it charged?”
He clicked it to life. “Seventy-eight percent. Good enough.”
Marvin gave him a wide smile. “Go see if the nicest man in the world even comes close to his nickname. And I don’t mean turkey man.” He winked. “I have a feeling you’ll find a few chinks in his shiny armor if you give yourself a chance to get to know him.”
Sebastian ran out the door, cursing his fucking shoe that slowed him down, but he kept on going despite the sole slap, slap, slapping away.
3
Awkward Admissions
Louis was glad to be out of the food pantry. Even the freezing air was welcome because with each passing second in that conversation with Bash, Louis’s temperature seemed to go up another ten degrees.
He was surprised he didn’t have steam coming out his ears.
He was humiliated about the whole crab-donation thing.
Still.
It was stupid. He didn’t think it through to the logical end, not like Bash had. And he’d called Louis out. Thankfully. Called him on his privilege, which he needed to be reminded of.
And yes, Louis had pawned his crab abundance off on someone else without considering that kids couldn’t eat shellfish before a certain age (whatever that was) . . . or that people were allergic . . . or that not everyone grew up like him, knowing how to handle live crabs before he knew how to ride a bike. Let alone how to cook ’em. Or even how to eat them once cooked.
He gripped his hair and growled in frustration.
So stupid. He’d make it up to Marvin.
He just had to be done with this day. He needed to be home and warm and away from all the shit coming at him that he didn’t know how to deal with anymore. He wanted peace and quiet. Or the comfort of a television show running in the background as he ate the crabs waiting for him, filling his belly.
His name carried on the breeze.
“And now I’m hearing things. Great. What comes next with debilitating loneliness? I didn’t think I was that bad off yet, but if this is it, welcome, sweet insanity. Are you here to finally take me?”
A woman pushing a shopping cart filled with yarn and Styrofoam wig forms gave him a funny look and a very wide berth.
“Louis, slow down.”
Louis stopped in his tracks and turned around. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy.
Half a block away was Bash. He was running, but awkwardly. Louis recalled that one loose sole. And he was wearing Louis’s coat.
His muscles involuntarily shuddered at the reminder.
“You’re cold,” Bash said when he caught up. “Here. Let me.”
And Louis did, allowed Bash to slip the coat over his shoulders. He even let Bash zip it up, all the way up, and flip the collar, which did a remarkable job of keeping the wind out.
He didn’t know why he did it, but he returned the favor. The wool of Bash’s coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it should’ve been for these temps. This was more like a cool-season dress coat, not a winter one. But Louis flipped the collar anyway and smiled into eyes he’d wondered the color of back in the pantry.
Blue. Bash had blue eyes.
“Returning my coat? I gave it to you so you’d stay warm.”
Bash’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile and he looked down at the sidewalk between them. “I was hoping I could still take you up on that offer.”
“For supper? Me cooking for you?”
Bash looked up and nodded. “Marvin vouched for you. Said you were safe, but I have to figure that out for myself. I’ve not had a hot meal in days, and I can’t recall the last time I’ve had something home-cooked. Marvin said something about you riding the Metro up to Columbia Heights. That ride is time enough for me to figure out if you’re a serial killer or at least decide if I’m comfortable enough being alone with you. If not, I’ll go back to my tent under a bridge where you’ll never ever be able to find me. I’ll disappear from your world. How’s that sound?”
“Like a lot of words and stuff I want to follow up on, but that’s not what’s important right now. Not compared to how you feel. It sounds like feeling safe is your number one concern, and it’s mine too, so I’ll leave it all up to your judgment. You can leave whenever. No questions asked. And I’ll even give you money for a cab so you don’t have to take the Metro. How’s that sound?”
Bash nodded.
Louis held out his hand. “Shall we?” When Bash didn’t take it right away, Louis kicked himself for being so forward. So he tucked his hand in his pocket and kept walking toward the Metro station.
As they got out of the cold, they both sighed in relief. Louis pulled out his SmarTrip card and checked his balance before asking Bash, “Do you have a card?”
“Yes,” Bash said, sheepish.
“I’ll add value if you give it to me. I’m out there a way, so . . . Unless that’s too forward of me.”
Bash handed over his card, but Louis didn’t miss how Bash refused to make eye contact.
It was clear Bash didn’t like handouts. He didn’t like asking for help. Louis wondered if that’s why Bash mentioned living under a bridge rather than in a homeless shelter or if there was more to it. Likely there was. Louis had heard a lot of horror stories over the years as he ate meals with other men and women at shelters.
As they waited for the Metro to arrive, conversation completely stalled. Louis didn’t know how to start it again without beginning with another apology. Hell, why not.
“I feel like I need to apologize yet again,” he whispered soft enough that if Bash wanted to pretend he didn’t hear, he could.
“I should be the one to apologize,” Bash said, facing Louis. “I made a lot of assumptions about you, according to Marvin. I guess it was the phone to the ear and the way you’re dressed. I know those boots cost at least $1,600.”
“You’re fucking kidding me! On my feet? These? Geez. I’ve stepped in dog shit with these, which seems just . . . sacrilege. That’s more than my first car cost!”
Bash laughed, throwing his head back and drawing eyes. “They’re Tom Fords. You seriously didn’t know?”
“Clueless.”
“But you added different laces.”
Louis nodded. “Yeah. It’s one of my things.”
“Things? One of?”
The Metro pulled in just then, so they shimmied into a car and managed to find two seats side by side.
As soon as the cars started moving, Louis picked up their conversation. “The laces, it’s one of my quirks. I have to dress conservatively for my job, but there are little things I can add to spice up my life and make it a bit more interesting.”
“So, blue and—” He leaned in closer to inspect the shoelaces. “—yellow braided laces in Tom Fords you didn’t realize were Tom Fords are your way to add a little pizzazz in your life, huh?”
Louis shrugged. “Well, yeah. My boss gave me the shoes, actually,” Louis admitted, which he wouldn’t normally do. Somehow he didn’t think Bash would judge him for readily accepting castoffs even if the guy was proud. “Oscar bought these for his son, but he wanted black, not brown.”
“Ah. I used to be that kid.”
“You? I don’t believe that.”
Bash raised a brow but didn’t elaborate. “You mentioned you were spending the holiday season alone. What about your boss? No work parties to attend?”
“Right now, he’s back home pressing the flesh and doing his family thing, but later I have multiple parties to attend.”
“Do you work for a politician or something?”
“He used to be. Sorta still is, but not quite. Is that a problem?” Louis asked around a chuckle. “Everyone in this town is linked back to politics in fewer than six degrees, so it’s hard to escape.”
“True. And it’s not a problem as long as your bos
s doesn’t think the world would be better off with me dead. So . . . there’s that.”
Louis bit his lower lip and gave a grim nod. “I’d never work for someone who didn’t believe in equality. I assume that’s what we’re talking about here.”
“Are you asking if I’m gay?” Bash stood up and looked around the car, gesturing so much like David Rose from Schitt’s Creek that Louis nearly burst out laughing. “I’m gay, everyone. I just wanted to make that clear. I’m a gay man. I don’t know if he is, though, and I don’t really care. I’m just eating the blue crabs he’s cooking for me, but I’m gay.”
Some guy in the back of the car clapped and shouted, “Good for you, man. Love is love.”
Louis tugged on his coat sleeve to make him sit. “Was that necessary?”
Bash laughed and squeezed Louis’s knee. “Well, now you know. People living inside the Beltway are left of center, so no worries. Only the tourists would be offended. How many tourists ride out of the city this late in the day?”
Louis shook his head. “I don’t know, but why put yourself at risk like that?”
“Honey, every single day of the week I put myself at way more risk than that. Do you know the cops stole most of what I own a few weeks ago?”
“That’s awful.”
“It is.”
“Damn.”
Silence descended again. Louis had heard whispers about this, about cops confiscating belongings from homeless encampments. Did that mean . . .
“So . . .” Louis wasn’t entirely sure he should ask this, what with how prickly Bash was, but he wanted to know. “Would you consider yourself homeless?”
“Yep.” Not a second’s hesitation.
“When was the last time you slept in a bed?”
“May.”
“May?” Louis couldn’t fathom that. “Why not go to a shelter? They have plenty of beds.”
“Nope. Just . . . nope. Too dangerous.”
