by Nico Jaye
A warm hand covered his clenched one, and Edwin looked over to see Trick watching him, his brow furrowed. Edwin couldn’t guess at what Trick saw, but he was grateful when Trick shifted as close as he could and lifted his arm around Edwin’s shoulders. As the first cart passed underneath the flag, Trick squeezed Edwin’s shoulders and held him securely against his own firm body.
“I got you.”
They crested the peak, and the ensuing drop was like nothing Edwin had ever imagined. It was terrifying exhilaration. His stomach felt like it was floating inside of him, and he added his voice to the shouts and screams. Pressed close to Trick, Edwin could feel and hear Trick’s excited laughter.
The ride swooped into twists and turns, never letting up in speed and eliciting that intense combination of fear and thrill within him. Even through the overload of stimulation, Edwin was well aware of Trick’s arm around him, which helped him feel inexplicably safer.
They were pulling into the disembarking station when Trick ran a soothing hand across Edwin’s nape. “You okay?”
Edwin swallowed hard and broke out of his stupor. He wasn’t sure how he felt about roller coasters, but it had… it had definitely been a unique experience. “I… I think I can walk, still.”
The metal bar popped back up to release them out of the seats, and Trick let out a throaty chuckle. “I’m proud of you,” he said before stepping out. He offered Edwin his hand, which Edwin gladly took as he climbed out of the low seat.
“I’m glad to have experienced it.” Edwin remembered Trick’s kindness and squeezed his hand. “And I’m glad it was with you.”
Trick flashed him a brief smile before tilting his head toward the exit. “C’mon, I think we deserve some snacks after that adventure.”
“Of course! I would enjoy that,” Edwin said, perking up at the thought of more food to try.
They headed back in the direction of the Ferris wheel, and at the next intersection, Trick caught sight of a small car. There was popcorn behind a glass encasement and, hanging from the top bars, plastic bags of something labeled “Cotton Candy.”
“Oh, we should get one of these,” Trick said, gesturing toward one of the pink-filled bags. “Considering how big of a hit the doughnuts were, I think you’re gonna love it.”
“That sounds most promising, but… what is it?”
“It’s cotton candy,” Trick said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “It’s fluffy, sweet, cavity-inducing goodness.”
The gray-haired man behind the counter handed Trick one of the bags in exchange for a few dollars. “Or,” the vendor said with a grin, “where I come from, we call it fairy floss.”
Edwin’s eyes went wide, and he looked at the pink confection, inexplicably enchanted by the idea of mortals finding ways to incorporate the magical in their everyday lives. Even more curious about this foodstuff, he tugged open the bag and pulled some of the fairy floss off the large pink ball. The fibrous tendrils clung together as he pulled the bite free, and he popped it into his mouth.
A surprised little noise escaped his throat, and he moved his tongue around the sugary fluff as it dissolved in his mouth. It was simply delightful.
“What d’you think?” Trick asked, an amused look on his face.
“This fairy likes his fairy floss!”
When Edwin realized what he’d said, his eyes went wide with dismay. Oh my Fairy, what had he done? He hadn’t meant to say that.
“I mean—I just really—”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” the old man said, nodding. “We get all sorts of types here, and you boys don’t have to hide who you are on my account. In fact,” he said, standing a little straighter and smiling, “I’ll have you know I officiated my nephew’s wedding to his husband.”
Edwin’s gaze shot to Trick, and he was surprised to see an inscrutable look there. Edwin’s mouth opened and closed as he stuttered through a few more stumbled explanations.
“You—I—”
“Thanks,” Trick said to the old man over Edwin’s stuttering. “We appreciate that.”
The old man grinned and nodded. “Have a nice time.”
Trick took Edwin’s hand and tugged him along, leaving Edwin to wonder what he had just missed. He wanted to eat more of the fairy floss, but he also wanted to know what had happened.
“What… what was that man talking about?”
Trick grinned as he reached into the bag for a pinch of fairy floss. “He thinks we’re an item. Like, together. As in, boyfriends.” Trick put the fairy floss into his mouth and glanced at Edwin. “You know, when you called yourself a fairy? He thought that meant you’re…. Wait, why did you call yourself a fairy?”
Edwin’s eyes went wide, and his heart began to race to rival the thumping from his Cyclone experience. “I just—um—I—”
Trick sent him a puzzled look before shaking his head briefly. “You know, never mind. I…. You do say some weird stuff sometimes, though,” he said, almost to himself. Trick gave a half shrug and turned to Edwin with raised brows. “So… hey, do you want to try out the Ferris wheel now?”
With a sigh of relief at not having to explain something he would find distinctly difficult—if not impossible—to explain, Edwin smiled at the suggestion. “As long as I can still walk afterward,” Edwin said ruefully.
Trick laughed and tossed an arm over Edwin’s shoulder. “This one’s an easy one, I promise,” he said, guiding Edwin toward the large red wheel.
And it was easy, Edwin was pleased to discover. As was the rest of their day at Coney Island. He might have intercepted a few curious glances from Trick, but given the way Trick had let the Fairy-Situation-Capital-F-and-S go, Edwin was more than happy to overlook those glances in favor of enjoying Trick’s company.
Chapter Eleven
THANKSGIVING THURSDAY rolled in, cold and blustery, and although it was a rare event for Trick to actually have a holiday off, he’d set his alarm anyway for the butt crack of dawn. Scratch that. It was well before the buttcrack of dawn, and he was already regretting agreeing to go with Edwin to the parade.
There was a knock at his door and Trick forced himself across the cold floor to answer it.
“You’re early,” he said once he’d pulled it open to see Edwin’s jubilant face smiling back at him.
His smile faltered a moment. “I am so sorry. I could come back later, if that would better suit you.”
“No, Edwin. Come in. It’s just early, and I’m grumpy.”
Edwin stepped through the door, and Trick closed it before trudging into the kitchen to find something heavily caffeinated. Edwin followed behind him.
“But it’s Thanksgiving. Is it not a most joyous occasion?”
“Not at—” Trick glanced at his watch. “—five thirty-two in the morning.”
He poured the cheap coffee grounds into the filter and placed it in the machine. “You want some?”
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” Trick said. He couldn’t imagine being awake this early and not doping himself with enough coffee to kill a small child. It was unfathomable. Edwin seemed chipper, though. Come to think of it, that was pretty much how Edwin always was, and on anyone else it would have grated on Trick’s last nerve, but on Edwin… it fit. It was adorable rather than obnoxious.
Trick threw back the mug of coffee, wincing as it burned the back of his throat but swallowing it anyway. What was a little charred skin in the name of not being an unbearable asshole all morning?
“Just let me get dressed and we’ll head out,” Trick said.
Edwin turned his back like the gentlemen in old movies did, and Trick stripped off his pajama pants and went searching for something clean and warm to wear.
TRICK HAD chosen to take Edwin to Central Park West. They’d left the house and been on the subway early enough that he figured they’d be able to get a decent spot there, but when they rounded the corner, they saw the crowds were already bordering on massive.
“Oh m
y Fairy, there are a lot of people here,” Edwin remarked.
“There are. I don’t know if it would be better to chance going farther down the route to see if those spots are less crowded.”
Edwin didn’t respond, just looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a decision.
Trick paused. “Let’s just find a place here. By the time we get down toward the end, it’s probably going to be just as busy. You’re tall anyway, so even if we get stuck near the back, you’ll still be able to see.”
“That sounds fine to me,” Edwin said and followed Trick into the fray.
They found a spot near 66th where the groupings of people were less dense, and they wedged themselves between a large family and an elderly couple. The family was boisterous, the two parents trying desperately to control the two older kids who really didn’t want to be standing in the cold at dawn and the three who really, really did. The more enthusiastic of the bunch, two honey-blonde little girls and one redheaded little boy, were singing in three different keys about what snow does in summer.
Trick could identify with the older kids but couldn’t suppress the smile at the younger ones’ antics, and then he heard the smooth sound of Edwin humming along next to him.
“You know this song?” Trick asked, turning toward him.
“Of course, Frederick has shown me this film. Olaf is hilarious.”
Trick had no idea who Olaf was, but Edwin was so matter-of-fact that he didn’t bother questioning him.
The sun was beginning to rise behind them, casting long shadows into the street. Trick prayed that the air would warm with the sun, but as it rose, it tucked itself behind a bank of thick clouds.
Moments later, all hope Trick had held for a warmer morning shattered when it began to rain, the fat raindrops nearly soaking them through in minutes.
“Fuck,” Trick muttered, realizing too late that he should probably watch his language in front of the little ones, and that he should have definitely thought far enough ahead to check the weather report before leaving his apartment.
“It’s okay,” Edwin said, pushing open the largest, most brightly colored rainbow umbrella he’d ever seen. How had he not noticed Edwin carrying something so large and so vibrant?
“Where’d you get that?” Trick asked, huddling in closer to Edwin, thankful he was no longer getting rained on.
“My pocket…. It, uh, folds up really small.”
“It’s a good thing one of us thought ahead.”
The elderly woman next to them pulled two ponchos from her oversized purse and handed one to her husband, while the family on the other side distributed umbrellas to each of their kids.
The kids sang louder, and this time Edwin joined in. The littlest girl beamed up at him like he was her very own Disney prince, and for a moment, Trick could see the resemblance between Edwin and the hunky cartoons he’d been in love with when he was a kid.
The waiting time passed quickly, and after a couple of hours and what felt like a hundred verses of “Let It Go,” Trick could hear the music of the parade faint in the distance. Everyone quieted and turned to look north, waiting to see the colorful procession start.
Hundreds of people danced their way down the street, the music swelling as they approached. Multicolored floats followed marching bands that followed the impressively large balloons. Trick snuck a glance at Edwin, who looked as though this was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.
“This is the most amazing sight, Trick. They’re all so very talented.”
“They are,” Trick agreed.
“Do you come every year?”
“No. Sometimes I catch part of it on TV, but I haven’t watched it live since I was a kid.” He tried to remember seeing the parade for the first time and how that had felt. “My dad used to bring me when I was little. He’d let me sit on his shoulders so I could see better, and he’d carry me that way the whole time. He must have been aching by the time we went home, but we always had fun. He’d take me out for pancakes after, and we’d talk about what our favorite parts were.”
Edwin thought for a moment. “We should go for pancakes after, then.”
Trick grinned. “That sounds like a fantastic plan.”
TRICK WAS disappointed to discover the diner he used to visit with his dad was no longer there. In its place was a large Bed Bath & Beyond. He didn’t know how he’d never noticed the little corner restaurant being taken over by the big-box store, but he was irrationally upset about it.
“What’s wrong?” Edwin asked, his eyebrows knit together in concern.
Trick stood there on the corner, staring wide-eyed at the sleek windows and domestic displays visible through them.
“This is where the diner used to be. But the building is gone. They tore it down and now this is here….” Trick gestured halfheartedly at the store in front of them.
“It’s okay,” Edwin soothed him. “We’ll find somewhere else to have breakfast. It can still be a tradition, even if the location is different.”
The thought of it stabbed Trick through the heart. There was so little of his father left that Trick could hold on to. Pieces of their life were disintegrating with each passing year. It was difficult to fathom that he’d already been gone a decade.
“Okay, let’s find somewhere else,” Trick agreed, trying not to let the sadness show through in his voice.
Luckily in New York, a diner was never very far, and there happened to be one halfway down the block on the other side of the street. The red awning and large picture window were inviting, and even if they hadn’t been, Trick was ready to get out of the rain. Edwin’s umbrella was only able to do so much, and although Trick’s clothes were mostly dry, the cool moisture in the air had managed to permeate, settling right into his bones.
They slipped into the diner and found a table near the window. It was a small miracle since most restaurants in a five-mile radius were packed with parade spectators looking for something to eat after standing outside for hours.
A waiter who could not have been older than about twelve marched over to their table with menus a few minutes after they’d sat down.
“Those won’t be necessary, thank you,” Edwin said. “We’ll both have pancakes, please.”
“And bacon,” Trick added. “And coffee.”
“Coming right up,” the waiter said, tucking the menus under his arm, then scribbling their order on a small pad of paper.
He disappeared and Trick slouched into the cushion of the worn chair.
“You seem sad today,” Edwin said.
Trick sighed. “I’m just tired. It was a long week.”
“Work was unpleasant?”
Trick resisted the urge to laugh. “Always.”
Edwin shuffled to the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on the table.
“May I please ask you a question?”
“Sure, ask away.”
“Why do you stay working for a boss who makes you feel as badly as Mr. Redden does?” Edwin asked, and when Trick looked up at him, he saw nothing there but a sincere interest.
Trick sighed again, harder this time. “That’s a complicated question. The short answer is that I do it for my dad. He was an architect.”
“Like you!” Edwin interjected with far more enthusiasm than was necessary, but Trick couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, like me. He loved designing buildings, having his work be a part of the city. He loved New York almost as much as he loved me.”
“Is that why you decided to become an architect?”
“It is. He was so passionate, and it was difficult to listen to him talk about his designs without catching the feelings he had. I wanted that too, long before I lost him. And once he died, studying architecture became a way for me to feel close to him, even though he wasn’t with me anymore.”
Trick took a deep breath to keep his emotions in check. It had been a long time since he’d spoken about his dad, and he missed him just as fiercely as ever.
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br /> “When he was alive, Redden was his partner. They started the firm together. They made an unlikely pair, but no one could argue that their designs weren’t the best.”
The waiter arrived then with their breakfast and set the plates down in front of them.
“Can I get anything else for you guys?” he asked, barely waiting for Trick’s answer of no before he disappeared again.
Edwin dug in as Trick continued. “When my dad died, I’d just graduated from high school. There was enough money left for me to go to school, but not enough to cover living expenses on top of it. I guess he thought I’d live with him while I studied, but he was gone….”
“That’s so sad.”
“Redden offered me a job, and I took it. I’ve worked for him ever since. I made it through school, and now that I’m licensed, I’m moving up in the firm… not that I’ve had any projects of my own other than answering phones and arranging couriers. But hopefully one day I’ll be able to buy in as partner and my father’s name will be back on the sign. This firm was his, and it’s his legacy. I want to be a part of that, to be the type of architect—the type of man—my dad would have been proud of.”
“I think that’s lovely. I am sure he would be very proud of you,” Edwin said. “You must miss him.”
“I do. I think the holidays are the hardest. My mom died when I was little. I don’t even remember her, and my dad stepped up to become both parents. He always made sure the holidays were special for me.”
“Today’s a holiday,” Edwin said, as though he’d just realized.
“It is. Thanksgiving.”
“We should do something to make it special. What would you like to do to celebrate?”
“I was just going to grab a sad rotisserie chicken from the supermarket and eat it over my sink.”
“That does not sound very celebratory.”
Trick laughed at the befuddled look on Edwin’s face. “It isn’t. But it’s not like I can cook a turkey at my place, even if I had the time and energy. My stove is busted.”
“That is unfortunate, but we can still make the evening special. If you wouldn’t mind the company. I don’t mean to be presumptuous in inviting myself along to your holiday evening.”
