Candy Man

by Amy Lane

  Finn came up behind him and put a hand on the small of his back. “Don’t panic,” he said firmly. “Everybody else is here just long enough to—”

  “No!” hollered the older guy who looked like Finn’s brother. “No, no, you dumb motherfuckers, no!” He had avoided the whole group presentation thing and sat himself down in front of the game. Lucky bastard.

  “Pete, stop swearing around Josh, or his father is gonna kill you.” This from the older sister. For a minute Adam thought she must be JoBeth, but she didn’t look that much older than Finn, and he’d probably seen JoBeth working at the restaurant, so she must be Mari.

  Pete looked over his shoulder and grinned at the toddler. “Wanna come sit on my lap, Joshie? We gotta watch USC win, okay?”

  Joshie broke away from his mom and hauled ass to sit on his uncle Pete’s lap. Adam looked for Darby’s kid, Cameron, and saw him seated right in front of the dog—like right next to Adam. The dog was licking him politely on the head.

  Working hard at not joining Cameron, Adam tried looking at the other faces around him. “Uhm, good to see you all. You’re here why?”

  Darrin grinned and patted his cheek. “Don’t ask why, sweetheart. Just dig in to the chow!” With that he turned toward the game, grabbed a beer, and proceeded to root for the other team.

  “Here, come help me,” Finn said, grabbing his hand and hauling him into the kitchen. “That way you can just pretend there’s people in the house and you don’t have to worry how they got here.”

  Clopper took that moment to escape Adam’s grasp around his collar, escape Cameron, and go rushing into the living room, apparently to lick all the things.

  Like the other kid, who laughed, and the uncle, who invited the big doofus to sit on the couch when there were people sitting on the floor, and the cat, who was hiding in the corner and who hissed and fled for the back bedroom.

  “Clopper—hey, man….”

  But Clopper didn’t give a shit, and Finn hauled Adam around the counter into the kitchenette.

  “Surprised?” he asked, pulling out a wrapped plate of turkey and a big container of potatoes.

  “Very much,” Adam said, looking into his living room again. Darrin caught his gaze and winked, then waggled his eyebrows. Anish and Ravi were arguing over whether or not USC could pull it out, and Darby, Mari, and Joni were lavishing all of their attention on the kids and dog. Five minutes ago Adam couldn’t have predicted Rico’s little apartment would hold all these people.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have been,” Finn said, standing on tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “My parents’ house was a zoo. My mom had, like, three turkeys and a ham going, and there was no place to sit. Darrin asked where you were, and when he found out you were here, alone, with all this space, he said you were a selfish bastard who should share, so we decided to go with that.”

  Adam half laughed. “That’s considerate of you,” he said gravely. “Thanks for letting me off the hook.”

  Finn started to unload the next bag. “Not a problem. Will it make sure you’re not alone for Thanksgiving?”

  “I do not seem to be alone now,” he said.

  Finn smiled softly at him. “Well, mission accomplished,” he said, looking very smug and pleased with himself.

  “You’re a force of nature.”

  “I am. Hey, do you have any bread? Mom was out of rolls.”

  Adam shrugged. “Naw. I used the last of the old loaf today.”

  Finn stopped pulling a banquet out of the bags and stared at him. “How many sandwiches can you eat?”

  “I made little packages and put them on the dumpsters,” Adam said, embarrassed. “You know. For the homeless? I mean, I at least got a place to slee—”

  Finn tackled him, pushing him back against the refrigerator and kissing him until all of the scary people faded into the background. He backed off when both of them were breathing hard, and shook his head. “Surprised? Good. Every day you say something that surprises me.”

  Adam knew he was blushing. “I’m… uhm… you know….”

  Finn kissed his cheek. “It’s good, Adam. It really is. It’s a sign.” He turned back to unloading the bags, and Adam couldn’t help it.

  He hoped. He looped his arm around Finn’s shoulders and gave thanks.

  He could have done it—he’d been doing it practically his whole life. He could have spent this holiday alone, watching television, thinking that human contact was for other people, but he had a meal and a roof over his head, and that was plenty.

  But now he had people in his living room, and a dog, and a psycho cat, and it was an embarrassment of riches, and he was going to have to deal.

  He put his hand on the small of Finn’s back and closed his eyes as the warmth seeped into his palm. Then he kissed Finn’s temple, in that same way that Finn used that usually blew his mind.

  “Thanks. It was a nice thought,” he said, just loud enough for Finn to hear. “I’m not sure how fair it was to all the people you dragged with you, but it was really sweet.”

  He walked away then to gather plates (mostly paper) and glasses (a lot of Rico’s glassware consisted of plastic souvenir cups from some of the finest gas stations in the greater Sacramento area) and reusable plasticware.

  Well, it was something.

  IN THE next two hours, he and his new house of people ate, told jokes, cheered USC on to humiliating failure (and groaned when Darrin preened because his team won), and played spoons with the deck of semi-X-rated playing cards Darrin pulled out of his pocket.

  Finn looked at the cards, which had Sharpie marks in all the convenient places on the pictures, and said, “The jack of spades will never be the same.”

  Darrin smiled smugly. “Think of it as a loincloth and play.”

  Joshie sat on Pete’s lap and gave away all his cards by the end of round three, but Cameron got his own hand, although his mother gave him pointers during the play. Adam resigned himself to drinking his cereal out of the bowl because his plasticware was now all in the trash.

  And Clopper lay on his back in the corner, drunk off of more turkey and stuffing than any dog should eat ever. Every ten minutes he’d pass a giant gas bubble that would send him barking around the room, angry at the big farting monster who had dared impose on his dreams.

  In his entire life, Adam could not remember laughing so much. It was like Thanksgivings were supposed to be in movies, on television.

  For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt truly blessed.

  FINN HAD driven one of the two cars, so he was part of loading everybody up and taking them back to his parents’ house. He let the rest of the horde tromp into the car and start the ignition, and turned to Adam as he stood on the stoop, looking down the steps into the cold, foggy night.

  “It was okay?” he asked again, sounding so uncertain Adam’s heart broke a little.

  “It was great,” Adam said. Without thinking about it, he lifted his hand and palmed the back of Finn’s head, loving the texture of his hair and the way his eyes got big and shiny in the moonlight. He lowered his head, tasting Finn, and he didn’t taste pumpkin pie, which was the last thing they’d eaten. He tasted joy.

  He pulled back and smiled a little. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.” Black Friday always did, no matter what retail business you served. In the case of Candy Heaven, Darrin said most of the business would be from people coming in for a break after shopping at the rest of the stores, and he said the day would be fierce.

  “Yeah. And I’ve got papers and shit due on Monday. I won’t see you for a couple of days.”

  Adam grimaced. “Okay. Well, we should make that kiss better, then, okay?”

  Finn grinned and pushed up against Adam, and this kiss turned urgent and demanding. Adam closed his eyes and wished. Hope and joy and faith—all of those things, right? He could have all of them.

  Someone beeped the horn of the minivan, and Finn pulled away to groan theatrically. “Gotta go—my family’s waiting.”
r />   And then he was gone, trotting down the stairs and across the yard like he had all of the hope, joy, and faith in the world. He must have—he’d given some to Adam, right?

  And it lasted all the way until bedtime, when Adam looked around for Gonzo and didn’t find him. After searching the apartment three times, he realized that the worst must have happened: in all the flood of people leaving, the fucking cat must have run out the goddamned door.

  The Things We Live Without

  “YOU LOOK like shit,” Darrin said bluntly as Adam walked into work at six o’clock the next morning. Morning crew was already there—had probably been there for hours, getting everything as absolutely stocked and ready as possible. The truck had arrived about ten minutes before he walked in. Ravi and Anish had complained bitterly about being on truck duty, and Adam had looked forward to showing up to help.

  But that was before the big cat disaster.

  “I am aware,” Adam muttered, and guzzled the extra-large coffee he’d bought, hoping it was laced with something stronger than caffeine.

  “Seriously, did Finn go back or something and take you out clubbing?”

  Finn. Oh God. Adam could not even take the thought of Finn right now. He’d be all full of help and sympathy, and Adam? Adam wanted to rip someone’s face off. He really didn’t want that person to be Finn.

  “No. Fucking cat got out. Was out until one looking for the little fucker. Didn’t show.”

  Darrin closed his eyes. “Oh—oh hell. I’m sorry, Adam. I saw him go. I didn’t know he was supposed to be inside only.”

  Adam swallowed hard on that whole face-ripping impulse. “Yeah, well, I think the people freaked him out. Not your fault. Mine. I’ve never had a cat before. I don’t know cats for shit. It was a bad idea to leave him with me.”

  “Oh no….” Darrin narrowed his eyes and his voice turned speculative. “Oh no no no no no… you are not going to use this to… to….”

  Adam didn’t want to hear it. Of course he was. It was like God was talking to him. When God talked to you, you listened, right? His grandmother had always said God hated bastards, and God hated fags, and he was both, so he was proof. He was the faggot bastard who let Rico’s cat out, and damn if he could find a reason to think well of himself after that. “Boss, don’t I have to work or something? Where do I need to go?”

  “Help the guys load the stock up in the loft. And if you’re thinking about using this as an excuse to break up with Finn, stop thinking period and wait a few days.”

  “Can’t really break up,” Adam said pertly. “Haven’t made any promises. Nothing to break.”

  “Just his heart, you jackass!” Darrin snarled, and Adam turned away.

  “Naw. Now it’ll just bruise a little. Better bruised now than broken later.”

  “Adam, goddammit—”

  But Adam was already running up the stairs, not sure if someone had coked his coffee or if fear was just a really big motivator.

  Probably A. He couldn’t possibly be afraid, could he? Nothing could hurt you if you didn’t let it in.

  THE DAY sucked, but he got through it, pulling on his military discipline to sell candy and not be a complete dick to the people who came into the store. Like Darrin promised two weeks before, it was one of those days where everybody stayed long, and he was just clocking out when Darrin called out to the store. “I’m ordering from River Burger, if anyone wants to put in a request!”

  From across the store, Adam met Darrin’s slightly derisive look, but he didn’t let it stop him from swinging his coat over his shoulders and running the hell away.

  He looked under every car and in the shadow of every shrub on his way home, and when he walked up the familiar rickety stairs to the stoop with the worn welcome mat, that goddamned cat was curled up in front of the door.

  He wasn’t breathing so good.

  Fuck. Time to text Rico.

  Rico, your cat escaped last night and I just found him. He’s not breathing well and he’s hardly moving and he looks like hell. Where do I take him?

  Adam, if he’s going to die, just let it happen. There’s a little garden behind the apartment—it’s sort of the small animal graveyard. Avoid the bald spots—there’s a lot of dead gerbils in there.

  But RICO, it’s YOUR CAT!!!

  Do you think it doesn’t hurt? Jesus, Adam! But every time you love something, you run the risk that it’s going to leave you.

  Adam hadn’t eaten, and he couldn’t feel much beyond the exhaustion. He carried the cat in, and Clopper avoided his customary body tackle, moving instead to sniff at Gonzo’s still little form.

  Gonzo reached out with a paw and patted the big dog’s nose. Adam had a sudden “Finn” thought, about how they probably had a friendship going on since they were alone in the house a lot when the humans were not.

  The thought was gone quickly, and Adam set the cat on the corner of the couch, wrapped in a towel and tried to dribble a little bit of medicine in his mouth. Poor thing just let the medicine drip to the other side, falling on the towel, before he licked at his palate to maybe get the taste away.

  Oh. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

  Adam managed to make himself a lettuce wrap of leftovers, which he ate while doing a perfunctory walk around the block, making sure Clopper did what he had to do. For his part, Clopper didn’t need any encouragement or extra blocks like he usually did; Adam could only be grateful.

  He and Clopper eased quietly back inside, and Gonzo hadn’t changed. He lay sprawled on his towel inelegantly, his chest rising and falling, seemingly slower with every breath.

  Oh God. Adam had a horrible thought. He could take the cat outside, lay him down under a bush, and he could die right there. Adam reached down and picked up the little nightmare, and that limp weight rested trustingly in his arms.

  With a sigh, he sat down, the cat on his lap. Clopper did what he usually did—sat on the ground and rested his head on the couch while Adam petted the cat gently and reached for the remote control. He found a program in reruns and thought, Oh yeah, I like this one! and then he put down the remote control and continued petting the cat.

  When he woke up an hour later, he had a crick in his neck, the program was over, the news was on, and Gonzo the cat had breathed his last.

  Adam continued to stroke that still body for a good ten minutes, his eyes burning, the breath coming short in his chest.

  Finn would make this feel better.

  Finn needs to be nowhere near me.

  When he finally rewrapped the cat in the towel and took him out to the back flowerbed with a flashlight, he still didn’t have an idea which voice won.

  But he knew he sobbed his heart out over that stupid furry terrorist. Goddammit, Adam still had scratches on his face and his back from the awful animal—how was he supposed to go in the ground?

  There weren’t any answers to that one either. But as Adam laid Gonzo the cat to rest in the apartment burial ground at eleven o’clock on a moonless November night, Adam did know one thing.

  Nothing he’d learned in the past two years had done him any good. He was as alone as alone could be.

  THE NEXT morning he woke up to his phone chirping merrily on the charger next to the lamp.

  Hey—missed you last night. Did you survive the rush?

  Oh God.

  Yeah.

  That’s it? Yeah? Did you miss me?

  Oh geez. He couldn’t even lie to Finn by text.

  Yeah. But I need to get used to that.

  Why?

  Okay. Deep breath.

  And his phone rang.

  “Why?” Finn’s voice didn’t sound “just woken up” at all. God, he must have been up for hours.

  “Finn? Look, you and me, I mean, it’s great for me but not so good for you, so maybe you should not count on me, okay?”

  “No, not okay—where’s this coming from? This is not where we were on Thursday night!”

  “Well I hadn’t killed the fucking cat on Thur
sday night!” Adam exploded. “But the fucking cat is dead now, and if I can’t keep him alive, how am I supposed to keep you and me together? So maybe it’s just me alone because that’s the way it should be. I’ve never needed anybody before now. I gotta learn….” Oh God. That was a sob. He’d sobbed. His voice had cracked and he’d sobbed. Like, cried. Like a baby.

  “The cat died?” Finn asked, his voice absurdly gentle.

  “Finn, I gotta go. I… all the shit inside me is stupid and ugly, and I don’t need you to see it, okay? Just… just pretend the last two weeks never happened.”

  And he hung up, buried his face in his pillow, and howled.

  Personal Things

  HE LOOKED like shit again at work, but he did his job and did it competently, and didn’t give anybody any crap.

  And when the friendly neighborhood sandwich guy showed up, Adam heard his tread on the boardwalk, sort of a happy tripping sound, and ran for the loft before anybody knew where he was to start with.

  He heard Finn’s distraught voice and Darrin’s soothing tones, probably calming him down. It didn’t seem to work, though, because Finn’s shouted “Coward!” echoed through the store before he stomped away, the happy tripping all gone.

  When Darrin came up the steps, Adam was sitting cross-legged between the same pallets he’d been sitting by two weeks before, when Finn had first sat on the floor and given him a hamburger.

  “So the cat died,” Darrin said softly.

  “Yeah.” Adam leaned his head against a big box of giant sour gumballs that were maybe one of his favorite things in the store.

  “Wasn’t your fault. Finn said he was old.”