by Con Riley
Maggie’s hand on his bowed head was soothing.
“I’m sorry, Theo. This really isn’t a great weekend for doing this, is it?”
He shook his head.
“Can I help?”
He shook his head again. He was going to have to get through Ben’s birthday every year. He might as well do something productive, something he would approve of. He knew that was right, but still he turned his overloaded car for home before swearing at himself and making a U-turn.
Theo drove to the shelter in silence.
It was exactly as he’d expected: grim, dilapidated, miserable. Theo shuttled between his car and the shelter office, passing over boxes of clothes made of linen and cashmere, as well as of denim and cotton. He moved quickly, the smell of neglect and disinfectant making him doubt all over again whether he was doing the right thing.
The people behind the counter were pleasant. They didn’t ask the reason for the donation. It was obvious, he figured, as one of them shook out a pair of stylish slacks—what Ben called disco pants: tight in the ass but with plenty of room for an erection—that the clothes weren’t his. He was much taller and broader than Ben had been.
Theo couldn’t help noticing that the younger of the helpers had a nasty looking pair of black eyes. In fact the whole right side of his face was a dull, swollen rainbow that ranged from deep purple to pale green. His gaze skittered away as the man glanced up.
A staff member looked through Theo’s donation as he brought in the last pile of jackets and coats, expressing delight that he’d brought numerous scarves and pairs of gloves also. He guessed it was the time of year that their patrons would get the most use from them. When the banged-up dude bent to pick up a box, his T-shirt rode up, revealing more bruising—muted firework bursts—at the base of his spine. Lips tightening, Theo thought to himself that maybe this wasn’t the safest of locations to work.
For a while he talked with the man who documented his donation, wanting more than anything to grab everything back and stuff it into his car again. He couldn’t help holding onto one striped scarf. He couldn’t let it go, couldn’t make himself leave it in this depressing gray place of utter hopelessness. When he heard a loud gale of laughter ring out, he jumped.
Smiling, shrugging, the man behind the counter rolled his eyes. He explained that they usually only opened at night, but during the weekend they had access to more volunteers so could open their doors all day. Theo hadn’t ever considered what hobos did with their time.
When the laughter rang out again, he turned toward the sound.
“Come and see for yourself.”
Theo followed the man along a corridor into what looked like a large break room. There were old couches and armchairs, along with mismatched coffee tables, at one end of the room. Nearly every seat had an occupant. At the far end of the room some dining tables were arranged into a U configuration.
Theo noticed again that most seats were taken, and that several men stood inside the U watching whoever sat at the head of the table. This time the laughter didn’t make him jump. He smiled instead as he watched men enjoying what looked from the side to be a fast game of Chase the Ace.
His dad had introduced him to the game after they’d visited a fair. As a six-year-old boy he’d been transfixed by the cardsharp’s fast-moving hands, certain that he knew exactly where the ace of spades would be. Every single time he’d guessed wrong. For weeks afterward he had tortured his mom, getting her to sit with him for hours while he practiced his card skills. In the end she and his dad had carefully cut down a pack of cards to fit his too-small hands.
He stood in the doorway, shaking his head at the offer of a cup of coffee, watching the dealer’s hands move in a blur. A phone rang somewhere, and the man who was showing him around excused himself for a moment. When the dealer stood, fists pumping in victory as he successfully fooled his audience again, Theo realized that he’d been watching his intern, Joel. He stepped back a little into the dim hallway as Joel sat again, shuffling his deck.
The low hum of chat in the room was good natured, the atmosphere relaxed, right up until the shouting started.
Two dudes started wrestling over what looked like a bundle of garbage. Joel was in the middle of their altercation within seconds. Theo stepped forward without thinking. His intern was built, but the two men he held apart were punching wildly. Before he took another step, a firm hand grabbed his forearm, yanking him back.
“We’ve got this.”
Theo wasn’t convinced that the banged-up dude from the office would be much help. It wasn’t that he was small—he was as tall as Theo—he just looked too slim to have much strength. Theo stepped forward again only to be met with a palm flat against his chest.
“Back off, buddy.” The man spoke with such conviction that Theo did step back, nodding as wide dark eyes held his gaze. Under all those bruises he saw steely determination on a relatively young face. He certainly sounded much older than he looked.
In what seemed like seconds, the man who stopped him had his arm around one of the fighters, steering him out of the room. He shuffled the man past Theo, stopping to get a better grip as the homeless dude flailed, wanting to get back to his argument. In the struggle, the staffer’s head turned sharply, long dark hair flying out, catching the side of Theo’s face. He had control of the situation again immediately.
“Thanks for wanting to help.” His voice was calm even as the man with him tried to struggle away again. Theo nodded, swallowing, still feeling the silk-whip of his hair against his cheek. He looked back into the room in time to see Joel urge the other participant toward a vacant pair of armchairs. Hugging his bundle fiercely, the other homeless man was all indignation and barely restrained aggression. Joel took it all in his stride. He nodded as the man unloaded his anger on him. Theo was almost breathless as he watched his office idiot—breaker of all things mechanical—calm and soothe the person he listened to.
He might be all restless tension and lovesick foolishness at the office, but here with this group of volatile, troubled men, Joel was calm and patient.
At work, he never stopped talking.
Here, he sat and listened intently, nodding or shaking his head, leaning in, paying careful attention. It was like watching a stranger. Another of the homeless men pushed past Theo on his way out of the room, trailing an invisible cloud of acrid urine odor, making his nose wrinkle. What on earth, Theo wondered, would make a young man—any young men—choose to spend their weekends here? He remembered Joel’s warm hands pushing the pain right out of his back, and the way he followed Evan’s movements around the office as if he couldn’t make himself look away.
Maybe he’d been a little hasty in his judgment.
Maybe there was more to the kid than raging hormones.
He left without saying goodbye, stopping at the desk where the older staffer was still on the phone, nodding and smiling as Theo folded Ben’s striped scarf carefully before placing it on the counter next to his other clothes. He almost made it back to his car before he swung around quickly, returning to the office to empty his wallet of cash, folding bills into the hand of the surprised staffer.
Ben had always been a soft touch when it came to people down on their luck, shrugging at Theo’s rolling eyes as he spared change for anyone who asked. He could almost hear his man’s rumble of approval as he finally headed home. He thought about it as he booted up his laptop later, trying not to dwell on previous birthdays he’d spent with Ben. Instead he logged into chat, then read the politics forum for a while, but he had trouble focusing.
Taking the laptop to bed with him, he tried to read again, but he kept losing the thread as his jaw cracked with huge yawns. The whole day had exhausted him.
His eyes were drooping when he heard the ping of an incoming chat message.
MORGAN: Are you there?
Chapter 9
THEO hesitated about talking to the interns when he got to work on Monday morning. His e-mail conversation
with Peter, coupled with the events of the weekend, made him wonder if he should lighten up a little. Joel had shown empathy and maturity at the homeless shelter, so he figured he’d probably pick up on any negative vibes from Evan if he pushed too far.
Evan was already at work when Theo opened the office door, tetchy after an abortive early morning gym session. He’d taken things slowly—a short walk on the treadmill followed by a little light stretching—but still had to stop after too short a time. As the hot water of the shower thundered down across Theo’s shoulders, he considered writing massage therapy into Joel’s intern duties.
Aching back warning him to quit while he was ahead, he’d shrugged into his clothes, then headed into work, hoping for a stress-free day.
Evan’s smile looked genuine enough when he walked into the office. He certainly seemed settled and calm, his desk already neatly arranged for another busy day of sorting papers. If anything, he looked as if he should be sitting behind Theo’s desk. Evan’s business suit—charcoal gray, coupled with a crisp white shirt and restrained silk tie—looked so much better than his own. Some people just had it when it came to clothes, Theo guessed. He honestly had no idea why he didn’t see minor details like whether his shirt went with his jacket. That was the sort of shit Ben used to catch for him. Hell, if Theo had his way, every day would be casual Friday.
It amused him that Evan took dressing for work so very seriously while Joel looked as if he’d spent the previous night rocking out at a concert. He’d been quick to accept the relaxation of the normal rules for business attire that was extended to the interns. Theo had caught the tail end of a break-room conversation between Joel and one of the other business-major interns. They’d been reminiscing about a concert they’d both attended before they knew each other, realizing their connection only when the other kid had come to work wearing a band T-shirt listing stadium tour dates.
One moment Joel had been animatedly discussing the set they’d heard; the next he’d been describing the garbage—a complete sea of plastic cups and bottles—left behind by the concertgoers. Was it so hard to take your shit home with you, he’d asked. The other dude had just shrugged, going on to talk more about the music, but Joel’s words had stayed with Theo. He’d made a mental note to add it to his list of things to debate with Morgan, if he ever got back online, that is.
His relief—like a breath held too long, then sharply released—when Morgan reappeared late Saturday night had made Theo snippy.
THEO: Yes, I’m here. My chat light is green. From the little I understand about the Internet that means I’m available to talk.
MORGAN: I’m sorry.
THEO: Why didn’t you return my pings? You were online.
MORGAN: I couldn’t.
THEO: If I offended you somehow, just tell me. Ignoring me for so fucking long seems a little harsh.
Theo pulled his laptop up onto his stomach as he lay in bed, hands shaking a little. He couldn’t remember eating dinner, and it had been a draining day. He wondered if he should cut his losses and log off before he lost his cool completely.
Now that he knew Morgan was truly online, the persistent thoughts that nipped at his ankles since he’d gone silent—he wasn’t a real friend, you spilled your guts to a virtual stranger—washed over him. He felt a little dumb for worrying about someone who thought nothing of dropping off the face of the earth. He switched on his nightstand light so he could see to type more easily, annoyance ebbing a little as a wave of relief rushed in to replace it. He’d had to quell his other thoughts—he’s hurt, he’s sick, he’s dead—when Morgan had left his chats and e-mails unanswered.
Morgan owed Theo nothing, he guessed.
It was just so fucking rude and thoughtless—cruel even—to stop talking after you’d spent weeks in each other’s heads. That was Theo’s perspective, anyway. The longer they chatted together, the more Morgan had become part of Theo’s daily life. Their chats had certainly filled his time, so when Morgan suddenly cut off contact, he’d shoved Theo right back into the deep loneliness of the previous twelve months.
Morgan didn’t respond.
THEO: It’s just rude, Morgan. I wondered what was up.
THEO: I worried.
He stared at the screen, blinking.
Morgan still didn’t reply.
Eyes scanning to the right, Theo’s glance fell on his unread mail folder. He opened it for the first time in too many months, even though facing the contents made him feel a little sick. Instead of replying to his and Ben’s friends’ messages of concern, he’d shoved them into a folder without ever reading them.
Rude, cruel, and thoughtless were just some of the words that came to mind as he clicked on messages from old friends. They described his actions perfectly.
Hey, Theo, we were playing cards tonight with the gang. We miss your mad shuffling skills!
Hi, Theo, we thought about you today. SF Pride won’t be the same without you both here this year. Miss you.
Hey. We’re skiing again this winter. I’m arranging the accommodation right now! Are you coming? Say yes! We all had such a blast last time. Who knew a hot tub full of nearly naked men in the snow could be so much fun? Anyhow, hope to hear from you soon, Theo.
He read the most recently received message—We ate cake today for Ben’s birthday. Hope you did too, Theo. We’re still here, buddy—and messaged Morgan again.
THEO: I’ve cut people off before, Morgan. I regret it now.
He sat in silence, then typed a quick reply to his friend’s latest message, wondering to himself why on earth they’d persisted in reaching out for so long—a year already—while he’d been locked up in his own head. Then he looked at the messages he’d typed to Morgan. They read as if Morgan owed him an explanation, when in reality sometimes life just got in the way.
THEO: I’m sorry. I was worried, but I’m relieved you are okay.
THEO: You are okay, right?
THEO: Come on. People are WRONG on the forum. I could do with a little help. ;)
Minutes passed. Theo replied to a few more e-mails, delighted and a little ashamed when he quickly received two very forgiving replies from friends he’d avoided for far too long. He was just about to log out when his chat box blinked.
MORGAN: I broke up with my boyfriend.
THEO made it to 4:00 p.m. on Monday before calling Joel into his office. He sat behind his desk, fingertips rubbing circles into his temples, trying to stave off what felt very much like an incoming migraine. When he heard Joel’s firm knock, he called him in, then asked him to take a seat.
“What’s up, boss?”
Joel looked at him with such an open, interested expression that Theo found it hard to know where to begin. Despite intending to let things slide, Theo had ended up spending the whole day thinking about Evan.
What started as an early morning discussion with his blond intern about how he was settling in to the office had led to something of an adventure. The more Theo thought about it, the more certain he was that Evan needed a place where he could just be. Evan had smiled all morning, and frankly, Theo thought the kid could do with a little more contentment and a lot less pressure in his life.
Joel, on the other hand, was all barely restrained passion. Theo could see it in the way he could hardly concentrate on simple tasks, or keep his eyes off the blond man at the adjacent desk. He bore no relation to the calm man he’d observed talking down a man teetering on the edge of violence at the homeless shelter. Joel was a complete contradiction. At least Evan seemed a little more straightforward, and Theo had been glad to find him in the office early and alone. Instead of straight out asking if he was bothered by Joel’s enthusiastic crushing, Theo tried to edge around the subject.
Their conversation had started well enough. Evan accepted his compliment about his suit and mentioned that he got what he called sweet deals by working weekends at his brother’s store. He imported clothes, so Evan took full advantage of buying wholesale. They discussed that for
a while as Theo knew a great deal about the frustrations of running a business that relied upon imports. Ben at least had had his brothers in Italy to deal with hold-ups at that end. Evan’s brother had no one to help him.
While they talked, Evan took a list of outstanding requests into the archive room and started delving into boxes for the paperwork he needed. Theo turned the list toward him and moved to pull down a box of receipts also.
“Hey, I’ve got this.” Evan had sounded shocked at Theo’s assistance.
“It’s no problem. I quite like doing something mindless from time to time.” At Evan’s silence Theo revisited his words, saying, “Not that this isn’t important. It’s very necessary work—vital even.” When Evan laughed, Theo stared for a while. He couldn’t help it.
Evan’s smile was wide, and his eyes were bright as he shook his head. He looked like a different person from the sharp-edged, watchful young man of his first few office days. “You don’t have to pretend this isn’t boring. I figured that out before you hired me.” He snorted a little, then shook his head again before adding, “It’s only a few months, right? At least there’s plenty to keep my brain engaged here while I get covered in dust and paper cuts.”
Theo wondered then if he’d been mistaken. Maybe Evan was well aware of Joel’s interest already and found his attention stimulating. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than Joel’s interest being unwanted or unnoticed. But when Evan started talking about the architecture of the building, rather than an office romance, he found himself smiling too.
“See, it’s all around you here if you just look beyond the office walls.” Evan pointed toward the archive room ceiling, something Theo hadn’t ever spent a great deal of time staring at. A momentary flashback of Ben kneeling over him in the dark made Theo gasp. When Evan said, “Yeah, it gets me that way too,” Theo blinked, then took in the way Evan stared, smiling, at the ceiling.
