Candy Man

by Amy Lane

“It’s what Rico said.” Adam had texted Rico that morning, with maybe his thousandth “sorry” included.

  Rico had texted back, I’m sorry more. I didn’t mean to leave you this job to hurt you.

  Adam didn’t have anything to say to that, because how do you tell someone that maybe you were just too hurt long before you even lost your car and your job and your school grant? Maybe you were too hurt years ago, hiding under the bed in the guest bedroom and listening to your mom and your grandma argue over whose fault it was that you were such a colossal pain in the ass and waste of effort.

  “Then why is this such a big deal—I mean, besides the fact that I think you liked the animal. Why do you have to lose Finn too?”

  Darrin sat down cross-legged next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

  Adam looked at him, trying to be grateful, but he found he didn’t even have that in him. “Man, why’s it matter so much? Finn is meant for people. He’s great with ’em. Maybe I was just supposed to be like the damned cat, you know? Maybe I’m supposed to just go lose myself and die cold and alone.”

  “Oh, honey! Is that how the cat died?”

  Adam couldn’t resist him anymore. He sighed and laid his head on Darrin’s shoulder. “No.”

  “How did the cat die?”

  “On my lap.”

  “So you’re saying the cat had you.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what difference that makes.”

  “He came home to see you, Adam. It means you’re the human he most wanted to be with.”

  “I was a poor replacement for Rico, who had to leave.”

  “Maybe you were the better replacement—you ever think of that?”

  Adam straightened and glared at him. “Why in the hell would I think of that?”

  Darrin’s eyes were kind, even in the dim light of the loft, and he shook his hair back out of his face before he answered. “Because that’s who you are to Finn.”

  “Augh!” Adam growled, because he’d exhausted all his good words.

  Darrin pulled him close and kissed his temple, and Adam wondered what it was about these people—how did they know it was his comfort thing?

  “Adam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Finn told me about you and making the meals for the homeless people.”

  Adam sighed, glad for the non sequitur. “So? It’s like, you know, the bread was going stale anyway.”

  Darrin nodded. “Yeah. I do know. I know you’re a better boyfriend for Finn than his ex ever was, and I know you need some sleep and a chance to think to see it. Go home—”

  “But I need the—”

  “You got in a seven-hour shift. Go home. See how empty it is. Let the silence drive you bugshit. Candy Heaven will be here tomorrow.”

  Adam scowled, but he had to admit, he was wrecked and done. “You sure?” he asked, and Darrin shook his head grimly.

  “Have a sweet day,” he said, but it sounded more like a punishment than a benediction.

  RICO’S APARTMENT was really boring. Yes, television and stereo, and Adam had the computer he’d used for school, but mostly it was off-white carpet, off-white furniture, and sort of white walls.

  He needed pictures.

  Adam sat at the table that night, Clopper’s head dejectedly on his knees, and drew. He drew the dumb cat—when it was alive—and the dumb dog taking off after a squirrel and dragging Adam behind him. He got out his pastels and added the tawny color to the cat’s fur and the silver highlights to the dog’s short, floppy ears.

  He drew Candy Heaven—a picture for him and not for Darrin, where he captured the easy, human way that Darrin laughed and the way Joni smiled brightly at every child who walked through the door, no matter how bitchy she was to her coworkers. The way the dark wood floors and rainbow sugar seemed sort of like home.

  He stared at the picture of Candy Heaven and sighed. There was one thing he hadn’t drawn yet. He really needed to draw it, because he needed to be able to see it, even if it was something he couldn’t have.

  He turned the page in his sketchbook and there was no paper left.

  Fuck.

  Almost desperately, he flipped back to those preliminary sketches of Finn and thought about how badly they sucked. They weren’t good enough. His chin was squarer and his jaw was a little asymmetrical. His eyes were more almond shaped and less round, and his mouth wasn’t that wide unless he was smiling, and that big water spot wasn’t there on his forehead.

  Or that other one on his cheek.

  Adam shut the book abruptly before any more of those could happen, and then he clutched Clopper’s massive, patient head to his chest. It was too late to go get another sketchbook, but he got paid tomorrow. He could do it then.

  For now it was a great idea to just sit on the couch and stare at the television. Clopper lay next to him where he wasn’t supposed to be, whining for the furry person who had disappeared from his life.

  ADAM GOT in from his run with the dog the next morning and found a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee and a muffin on his porch. The bag with the muffin had writing on it in ballpoint pen. Miss me yet? Bet you do, right? Don’t deny it.

  Adam had to force himself to not smile, and his stern expression didn’t last through the giant mocha and the banana muffin.

  Yeah, Finn. I’m missing you. Just knowing you were here makes it better.

  Work was actually a little slow that afternoon, which was good because it made dodging Finn that much easier when he came in with Darrin’s lunch. After Finn shouted, “You miss me! Admit it, you stupid-head!” and stomped out, Adam came down the stairs tentatively, like nobody in the store would know that was aimed at him if he pretended he’d never run into the loft in the first place.

  Ravi, Anish, Joni, Darby, Miguel, and Darrin all glared at him as he slunk from the base of the stairs to the counter, where he had customers waiting.

  He ignored them and rang up the customers, pretending he didn’t notice their curiosity and bemused smiles, and then he carefully wiped down the candy dish on the scale. Finally he could stand it no longer.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Darrin walked up to the counter and dropped one of their cellophane prewraps of six medium-sized jawbreakers on the shiny brown surface. “In case you forgot you had any,” he said, his eyes flinty as he glared at Adam.

  “I got two,” Adam mumbled, embarrassed.

  “Fine.” Darrin walked back to the jawbreaker barrels and came back with another cellophane wrapped bag—this one with two giant jawbreakers in it. “This is in case you need bigger ones.”

  Adam glared at him and grabbed a Tootsie Roll from the go-back box, unwrapped it, and stuck two gumballs at the base. He held it upright, thinking it looked like an extended middle finger, and asked, “Does this remind you of anything?”

  Darrin smirked. “Yes, darling, I had one of those last week, except a lot bigger!”

  Adam gaped, and he felt a long-delayed blush traveling from his toes all the way up to the top of his head. “It was supposed to be… you know… the bird… flipping… I mean, not that I want to flip off the boss but… oh hell….”

  Everybody broke into raucous laughter, including the two grandmotherly types buying the specialized Star Wars candy tins Adam had always thought were really cool.

  Reluctantly, Adam felt another smile working on his face. His second of the day—it almost hurt.

  But the smiling, the camaraderie, must have seeped in, softened the parts of his soul made brittle by pain, because as he was leaving into late-afternoon twilight, he didn’t run when the familiar happy-trippy tread on the boardwalk zipped up behind him.

  “Don’t talk,” Finn said, grabbing his bicep and hauling him across the cobblestones and up into the tree-shaded walk.

  “But—”

  “No talking!”

  Adam shut up and let himself be hauled across the street, then across the bridge to the wrought iron fence that marked the edge of the park. The two o
f them stood there for a minute, looking out across the river. The last of the sun shot out over the horizon, and Adam turned in time to see Finn, eyes closed, face illuminated by the thin gold light.

  Fading freckles stood out on his cheeks, and his nose was almost absurdly small for a grown man.

  Not perfect. No.

  But so beautiful.

  The sunlight disappeared and a burst of wind kicked off the river, making them both shiver. Finn opened his eyes and looked into Adam’s, the expression on his face simple and poignant. “This is real,” he said, and Adam knew what he was talking about. “The sun, the river, and us.”

  Adam opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, but Finn didn’t let him. He stood on his tiptoes instead and took advantage of Adam’s open mouth, pulling him into a sweet, lingering kiss. Adam let a moan slip out, warm for the first time in three days, and Finn deepened the kiss, not letting him back away. Adam had no choice. He wrapped his arms around Finn’s shoulders and clung, kissing him back, needing him.

  Finn pulled back and panted, which was when Adam came to his senses. He dropped his arms and avoided Finn’s grim glare.

  “This isn’t over,” Finn said seriously. “You and me. We’re as real as the sun and the river. Think about me.”

  He turned and trotted away.

  Adam stayed for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to get his heartbeat under control. It wasn’t working. It was like all that laughter in the store really had made him more susceptible to happiness.

  And the pain that came when it walked into the frosty dark.

  Sunrise

  TWO DAYS later, Adam had filled half a brand-new sketchbook with pictures of Finn, and he was worried as hell about the damned dog.

  Clopper, who nose-humped strangers and body-tackled friends, had apparently devoted his life to apathy and depression. He sat, listless, in a corner, head on his gray-and-white paws, eyes wandering the house looking for Gonzo, who had probably spent his days jumping on Clopper’s head for fun.

  He’s lonely, Adam texted to Rico. He hasn’t eaten in three days. I’m worried.

  Get him a friend.

  Adam gaped. A… a…. A WHAT?

  Go adopt another cat. That way, when I move back, I’ll get to know your cat like you got to know mine.

  But Rico!

  No—it’ll be good. We always shared toys when we were kids. We can share pets now.

  You trust me to get you a cat?

  Why not?

  Adam flailed as he sat at the table and petted the depressed dog. Jesus, Rico had been there—they’d shared the same childhood, right?

  Because I’m the loser? he texted after his flail.

  Shut up.

  No, I mean—you heard the same shit I did!

  I heard two bitter harpies blame all their fucking bullshit on an eight-year-old who would sooner hide under the bed than hurt a fly.

  But I proved them right, didn’t I?

  SHUT UP. Jesus, Adam. You served your fucking ungrateful country, you came out in that fucking house of bile. You’re the bravest person I know.

  Adam thought of Finn and that moment by the river, when Adam hadn’t given him any hope at all.

  I’m a coward, he texted with feeling.

  Then be brave. Come on, Adam—save Clopper’s life.

  What if I pick wrong?

  Gonzo was a fucking asshole cat who ruined my best shoes right before my first job interview.

  He tried to kill me at least twice.

  See? How much worse could your choice be?

  Adam thought about Rico—shaved head, high cheekbones, full lips, and big brown Mexican-chocolatey eyes. He was everything Adam had wanted to be as a kid. His job in advertising seemed to make him so much more than Adam could reach for as an adult.

  Suddenly getting Rico a cat and saving his dumbass dog’s life made him feel like, just in a little way, he could be as good as Rico.

  It was Tuesday, which was apparently going to be his permanent day off, but he didn’t sleep in. Thanks to Rico, he had plans to make.

  He dragged Clopper on his walk in the morning, taking him up the block to H and Twentieth, walking around the block and searching out the pretty houses, the ones with the rainbow trim around the windows and the bright Christmas-themed flags on the porch. Was that one Finn’s parents’? Was that one? Oh, hey, this was embarrassing, was it the violet/blue one with Finn’s minivan parked in front of it?

  Abort! Abort! Abort! Friendlies on board! Finn was here! Oh my God, Finn might see him!

  Adam was going to backpedal—he was. Two things stopped him.

  One of them was Clopper, who could be turned right or turned left but could not, under any circumstances, be turned around to go the opposite direction.

  The other was the text from his cousin. Rico thought he was brave. Rico thought he was brave. Finn thought he was worth it.

  The least he could do was walk in front of Finn’s house!

  And wave when Finn came galloping out, fleece hat falling off his head, one shoe in his hand, one bare foot and one stockinged foot mincing across the frosty sidewalk.

  “Hello!” Finn gasped, chest heaving, eyes bright. He only had one arm in his bright blue coat—the rest of the coat flopped down behind his back. “What are—” Pant. “—you doing here?”

  Adam had to laugh, and he slid the loop of Clopper’s nylon leash down his arm and grabbed the back of Finn’s coat.

  “I actually just came wandering by,” he said, helping Finn find the arm and slide the quilted blue felt up his shoulders. Clopper, true to his recent depression, just sat, regarding them both with somber eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  “Yeah, well, my cousin came in from out of town with his family. We gave him my apartment, and I’m back here until after Christmas.”

  “That happen on Thanksgiving?” Adam asked, conscious that it could be a sensitive thing to talk about.

  But Finn chose to ignore that. He nodded. “Yeah—I didn’t get a chance to tell you. Anyway, I’ve got to run my last paper in to my professor this morning, but after that, I have the day off.”

  “Really?” Adam asked, sincerely surprised. “It’s mine too. I mean, did you do that on purpose?”

  Finn grinned. “Yes.” He was brilliant. Brilliant, bold, and unrepentant. Adam wanted to be like him when he grew up.

  “I, uh, I sort of have to go get a friend for Clopper,” Adam said. “Want to, you know, come with me?”

  “Or, you know, you and Clopper could ride with me. And we could spend the day together and wrap it up with an evening spent at your apartment, during which we eat a wonderful dinner and then have some variation of sexual relations.”

  Adam blinked. “Some variation?”

  “Yup. It can either be hot monkey lust or sweet sweet lurve. We’ll have to see.”

  “I, uhm… aren’t we moving a little fast?”

  Finn paused. “Yeah. That is fast. But I’ve known you for three weeks and I’m already emotionally invested. So maybe we’ll just make out. Maybe I’ll fall asleep in your arms and wake up and know that you’re not going anywhere.”

  Adam swallowed, unexpectedly moved. “Maybe that last one,” he said softly. “I’d really like that last one.”

  That radiant smile undid him.

  “Yeah. I think that’s the best option.” Finn stood on his tiptoes again and kissed Adam’s cheek. “But not our only one. It depends on how much in love with me you are by the end of the day. Stay right here. In fact….” He grabbed Adam’s hand, and although Adam did his best Clopper impression with splayed limbs, Finn still won. Adam ended up towed into the house, the dog perking up enough to prance at his heels.

  The door was still open from Finn’s precipitous exit, and Finn cleared the threshold hollering, “Mom, Dad, this is Adam! He changed his mind and we’re a thing again!”

  Adam glared at him. “Thanks, Finn. I promise, I’ll get even for that.”

>   Finn grinned and took him into what was probably a breakfast nook where two perfectly nice people in late middle age stopped drinking coffee and stared at him in surprise. Adam had a chance to take in blond hardwood floors, a white kitchen table, and a giant cornucopia in the center. Finn’s parents were both reading something from tablets, but he’d heard voices as he’d walked in and assumed they’d been talking as well. Nice people. No yelling. Happy faces.

  Terrifying.

  “Wow,” said Finn’s mom, her ash-blonde hair perfect, her Finn-blue eyes wide and round. “That’s, uhm—hello, Adam. Nice that you’re back in our daily dialog.”

  “Nice to”—oh God—“meet you. Hiya, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Sorry for just barging in—”

  “I’ll be right back!” Finn called, running down the hallway for what, God only knew. He was still missing a sock, and his hair didn’t look combed, and his breath hadn’t been awesome.

  “If he’s going to the bathroom, he’s going to take at least twenty minutes,” Mr. Stewart said. Adam recognized him from River Burger, but they’d never spoken. He must have been the seminal redhead, because his graying hair was still ginger and his thin, ruddy face bespoke a lot of sunblock in the summer.

  “Yes, and if you have to pee, Adam, be sure you use the one upstairs.” Adam almost choked on his tongue, because such a nice-looking woman just said pee, but she didn’t seem to notice. “And don’t let him tell you it’s whatever he ate the night before—it’s a total lie.”

  “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

  At that point Mari walked into the kitchen, laughing. “Oh my God, Adam, I hope you knew what you were getting into. Joshie saw you walking down the street and yelled ‘Clopper!’ and the next thing I know, Finn was dragging his pants on in the living room. I’ve never seen someone move so fast.”

  Adam smiled at her, relieved. “I was going to text him today,” he said, knowing it was the truth. He couldn’t imagine spending one more day without knowing Finn was in his life. “I… I mean, I was thinking about how to make up to him. I, uh, didn’t know I just had to walk by the house.”

  To his shock, Finn’s sister walked right up to him from the living room and hugged him. His free arm, the one without Clopper attached, flailed for a minute, and then he put his hand between her shoulder blades and just endured.