by Clancy Nacht
“Sister.” Forrest cut the steak, leaving a healthy portion to one side. He rose to pull a paper plate out of a cabinet and utensils from a drawer. “Half sister, actually. Her father is still alive, the bastard.”
As he put the steak on the plate, he said, “Only the finest in paperware around here. Not very Earth-friendly as she’d point out, but it’s a garage. We don’t specialize in Earth-friendly.”
Edwin nodded, uncertain whether it was appropriate to laugh. He set down Francesca, accepted his plate, and cleared his throat. The steak looked tastier than he’d given it credit for, and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d worked through lunch.
“I have a half brother.” It wasn’t something Edwin discussed, but most people didn’t understand the challenges inherent in a blended family. It was nice meeting someone who did, even if it couldn’t go anywhere.
Perhaps especially because it couldn’t go anywhere. Talking personally with coworkers could lead to setups and insistence he get out more. Talking personally to a strapping, straight mechanic would likely result only in dinner not eaten in silence.
Holding on to the comfort that things couldn’t stray into too-intimate territory between them, Edwin went on. “I can’t imagine trying to work with him. We’re vastly different. Susie seems like a lovely girl, though. Very capable.”
“Yeah, she’s good with the customers. Good with the books too. I never could get with the numbers thing.” Forrest looked up at Edwin, eyes wide as his face reddened. “I’m not really the schooling sort. School of life.”
Forrest laughed awkwardly and then shoved a piece of steak in his mouth like he wanted the excuse to stop talking.
“The dean might fire me for saying it, but in this economy, the school of life is probably more useful than a history degree.” Edwin poked at his steak with the fork, then glanced at Francesca and Nasty.
Grateful for the diversion, he pointed, drawing Forrest’s attention to where the cats lay half on top of each other, purring.
“That’s how a steak dinner should end, if you ask me.” As soon as the words were out of Edwin’s mouth, he wished them back. He glanced sidelong at Forrest, trying to contain his dread.
“Yeah.” Forrest blushed and averted his eyes as he finished his steak. “You want a beer?”
Without waiting for an answer, he retrieved two from the fridge and set one in front of Edwin.
Edwin ducked his head and ran his fingertip through the condensation on the can. “Thanks.”
“So you don’t get along with your half brother? That’s gotta be hard. Sounds like you’re all alone.”
Forrest hoisted his can in salute, and Edwin bumped his against it, grateful that some personal questions were the only penalty for his faux pas. After a few swigs, Edwin relaxed into his chair and had another bite while he considered his reply.
“It is difficult, yes. I haven’t seen Thoreau in years. He was in Seattle last time he e-mailed me, but he’s eight years younger and somewhat…volatile.” Edwin shrugged and took another drink of his beer. “Our mother, Phoebe, is a flower child. Is, mind, not was. He takes after her. I’m the black sheep, as hard to believe as that might be. I don’t belong.”
“I know how that is.” Forrest nodded, but his lips flattened like he was trying to hold something back. “My mom was a hippie sort. That’s why I’m Forrest and my sister has a normal name. ’Course nowadays everyone tells me to run, Forrest, run.”
He chugged his beer and then exhaled. “Thoreau. That’s quite a name right there. Sounds like your mom was big on reading.” Forrest’s brows furrowed. “Or was he a painter?”
Those beautiful, rosy lips pulled to one side as he tried to puzzle it out. “Anyway, recognize the name from somewheres.”
“You could say he was a writer, yes. They call his philosophy individualist anarchism based on his idea that each person has the right to self-govern and that government should serve that concern rather than impose external rule where it is unneeded. He’s a hero to a lot of well-read hippies.”
Taking another bite of his steak and washing it down with more beer, Edwin tilted his head to the side and studied Forrest. The expression Forrest wore was one Edwin saw in his classes all the time. Time to change gears.
“It takes a lot of smarts to do what you do with these cars. Rebuilding the Studebaker was one of the greatest challenges of my life. It’s a different skill set, but it’s no less impressive.”
“I dunno about that, but it’s nice of you to say.” Forrest gave Edwin a brief smile and looked away. “What made you decide to do that anyway? Just wanted a cool car or to do something with your hands?”
Edwin stiffened. He should’ve anticipated that. He finished his beer and pushed his steak away, no longer hungry, and then pulled Francesca into his lap. As he stroked along her spine in long, smooth motions, she purred loud enough to vibrate against his legs.
“I wasn’t much older than you when I did it. I’d…” He hesitated, studying Forrest’s face even more intently than before. It was risky sharing, but Forrest seemed like a good man. “I’d grown up in Oregon, mostly. Went to school at Berkeley to make my mother happy. Met a nice boy from Austin.”
Edwin laughed softly, a faraway sound coming from a long-ignored place in his heart. “After school, Howard convinced me to apply for a teaching job at UT. Called it the Berkeley of the new era. He wanted me to come back home with him, you see, to commit permanently.”
Edwin’s gaze sharpened, taking in Forrest’s expression for any disgust. Seeing only shy interest, he went on. “We couldn’t marry, of course, but we thought of ourselves that way. He died, quite suddenly, while riding his bike. A huge farm truck plowed into him.”
Edwin’s shrug discarded the importance of the revelation, relegating it to mere backstory for the sake of his audience’s comfort. “I was quite distraught, new in town, no one to… Frannie was Howard’s baby, and she and I took care of each other after he died. She helped me choose the car, and she dozed on the roof in the sunshine while I sweated under the chassis. It got us through those first horrible months without him. Kept us busy, thinking of other things.”
He waved it away like brushing cobwebs out of his face. “Anyway, it’s all ancient history. Suffice to say I have respect for what massive undertakings mechanical projects represent.”
Forrest winced, and then his expression smoothed. “It’s good you got to love someone, though. Painful as it must be now.”
He took a deep breath, plainly unable to articulate whatever was going on in his mind and frustrated by it. “I’m glad I got you your kitty back. Makes sense now how much you offered for it. I kinda thought you’d be a loony who wouldn’t have that kinda money anyway. Just sort of like…I dunno, saying how much you wanted your kitty back. Glad it was me that found her. Well. Nasty found her. But you know what I mean.”
Forrest punched Edwin’s arm. “Howard sounds like he was a good guy. Them Austin boys are charmers, I hear.”
“I’d be inclined to corroborate that statement.” Edwin extended a hand toward Nasty, letting the cranky black tom sniff his fingertips. After a moment, Nasty bumped under Edwin’s fingers with his head, giving permission to proceed with petting. It brought a smile to Edwin’s face, one less tinged with sorrow.
He stroked the cat gently and experimented with scritches behind his ragged ears, alert to tiny signals of preference. “Thank you, Mr. Nasty. I’d have been a goner without my Francesca. I owe you everything.”
Edwin sniffed back a fresh wave of emotion, tamping it down hard before cutting his gaze at the blond. “You’re a good guy too, Forrest. You and Nasty are our favorite neighbors.”
Francesca meowed assent and scrambled up Edwin’s jacket onto his shoulder so she could get a better view. Then she leaped off his shoulder to land on top of Nasty, both cats clamoring as they duked it out. Edwin snatched his hand back before it could become collateral damage.
Snorting, he looked back to Fo
rrest. “Kids, huh?”
“She’s letting him know who’s in charge. The ladies tend to do that. The good ones, anyway.” Forrest smiled as if thinking of someone in particular. “Anyway, I hate to rush you out, but I have somewhere to be tonight.”
Edwin rose so fast he almost knocked over his chair. He set it right before stepping away to avoid doing further mischief, extricated Francesca from the kitty tussle, and bent to snag his hat from where it had fallen when he stood.
“Night, Forrest. Enjoy your date.” Edwin started for the door, then stopped, turned, and gestured with one hand while clutching Francesca with the other. He didn’t mean to sound nosy, but he couldn’t help blurting, “Wait, you just ate! What kind of date do you eat before?”
Forrest flushed to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat. “Um. Well. It’s not…exactly…a date.” He looked away in shame. “It’s more of a friendly arrangement.”
“Oh.” Edwin arched a brow and nodded. “Well, handsome gentleman like you, I suppose I should’ve guessed. They must be lining up for a taste.” Edwin applied a too-hearty smile to his face and clapped Forrest’s biceps. “I wasn’t always this stodgy, Forrest. I remember what it was like being young and sexy. No need to blush.”
Stepping away, Edwin doffed his hat and started toward the door. “Care to let me out, good sir? I’ll leave you to your ah…nondating divertissement.”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Despite Edwin’s soothing, Forrest seemed deeply ashamed. When he reached the door to let Edwin out, he said, “I’m not like…I mean, I just have the one friend. I don’t want you to think that—”
Forrest rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, I really enjoyed your visit. I wouldn’t mind if you, you know, I mean, Francesca seems to like hanging out…”
The offer brought Edwin up short as he stepped outside into the evening air. Judging by the moon’s position amid the light pollution of the city, he’d lingered quite a while. Looking back at Forrest, Edwin couldn’t help smiling at the younger man’s hopeful expression.
“Would you—I mean, Susie—mind watching her again tomorrow? I would be sixish retrieving her, but maybe this time I can give you something tasty.” Edwin realized how it sounded and hastened to add, “Not that we would need to dine together again, of course; I don’t intend to be presumptuous. As for my credentials, I’m no Amber, but I have a wider selection of comestibles available to me than the strip joint provides. If Nasty would enjoy a special delivery in the evening, I would enjoy humoring him.”
Forrest laughed and nodded. “No clue about half of what you said, but it sounded like you volunteered to bring me dinner in return for my watching Francesca. And if that was, it’s a date.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Francesca and Nasty enjoyed dinner together every night that week at the shop, skipped the weekend, and then resumed their dinners on Monday. By Wednesday, Edwin’s pretense that it was all for Francesca’s benefit was wearing thin. He clung to the notion that the meals were payment for Forrest’s care of Francesca because the first thing little gay boys learned was not to fixate on straight men.
His dignity didn’t permit him to acknowledge his days now revolved around those meals together. Nor did his vow to give Howard in death what he’d failed to give him in life permit him to wish for more than that. The loneliness seemed sharper; where before it had been numb, now it prickled and stung like a limb fallen asleep.
He’d been alone so long it was difficult to interpret Forrest’s social signals. Sometimes he seemed so warm and inviting that Edwin had to force his mind back to Amber the stripper for proof Forrest was straight. Each time he did, Edwin felt anew his age and relative lack of sex appeal, then berated himself for minding. That chapter of his life was meant to be over.
Wednesday evening, however, threw an unexpected curve that threatened to unbalance Edwin’s careful self-deceptions. Just as he was dismissing his last class of the day and considering choices for the evening’s dinner, an aide handed him a note informing him that his presence was required for a department meeting.
That his first thought was to ditch set off alarms in his head.
Frustrated but determined, Edwin texted Forrest that he’d be late. Then he made his way to a conference room to discuss structural changes within the history department. There were veiled threats as to the appropriateness of certain mentorships—everyone knew it was about a graduate student who was falling a bit too much in love with the Middle Eastern studies professor overseeing her doctoral work—along with myriad things in which Edwin couldn’t begin to stay interested.
His thoughts drifted to personal matters as the others droned on. A glance at his pocket watch told him Forrest and the kitties would be eating by now. Edwin could picture them: Francesca and Nasty picking at whatever Forrest had rustled up, both of them nuzzling into his touches like they’d never felt anything better in their lives.
Edwin imagined for two seconds what it would be like if Forrest ever put those skilled hands on him. Guilt crippled him. It was wrong even to consider it.
After pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table, Edwin scrubbed his face with both hands.
“Are we keeping you up past your bedtime, Edwin?”
The department head’s voice cut into Edwin’s self-loathing, startling him into staring in her direction with bleary eyes before he recalled his glasses and set them back on his nose.
“Rumor has it Professor Blais doesn’t have a bedtime,” chimed in the head of Medieval and Renaissance studies. “He retires to a dark room and recharges his ion-cell batteries.”
Paul Conrad snorted. Even his snort sounded Welsh. “I’m a bit tired myself. Have we further business?”
Edwin sighed inwardly at Conrad’s attempt to rescue him. He’d hoped the man would give him a wide berth. “I’m fine. Proceed, please.”
“Very well. Try to stay awake.” The department head narrowed her eyes at him, then checked the document in front of her before moving to the next point of interoffice fraternization.
Edwin could only hope Conrad was paying attention. He had more than enough to handle already.
Chapter Six
When Edwin finally arrived, it was after seven thirty. He parked in what he’d come to think of as his spot and went to the door with heavy feet. He rapped his knuckles on the glass. “Forrest, are you still here? I’m so sorry.”
To his surprise, Jenna, one of his favorite students, opened the door. Her eyes widened. “Dr. Blais?”
Forrest’s shadow filled the doorway before he came into view. “Doctor? I thought you were a teacher.”
“Jenna! It’s a pleasure to see you as always.” Edwin spoke without needing to consider the words, so often did he say them. “Doctor of philosophy, not of medicine.”
Even as he spoke, his thoughts focused on making sense of Jenna’s presence. His heart sank that she might be Forrest’s aforementioned nondating arrangement.
Looking between the two of them, Edwin wet his dry lips and pulled his dignity around him like a shield. “The department meeting ran late, Forrest. I regret that I missed dinner, but I came as soon as I could. I suppose you’ve already eaten?”
“No, I was waiting for you. Amb— Uh, Jenna came by with some food, but I put it in the fridge for lunch tomorrow. I thought you’d wanna hang out.”
Forrest leaned against the wall. The overhead fluorescent light cast shadows over his face, concealing his expression.
Jenna looked between them, color rising in her cheeks. “Oh. This is your friend, Forrest? And you told him about…Amber?”
Edwin cleared his throat, his gaze settled on Jenna’s young, embarrassed face. “Jenna, my dear, I won’t tell a soul.” He swallowed disappointment at the reminder Forrest was so far out of his league and reached for Jenna’s hand, giving it a paternal squeeze. “It’s far easier to be a top student when your parents pay for everything, but supporting oneself and still impressing your most difficult professor deserves p
raise. You must always hold your head high knowing how much I think of your intellect, young lady. Let no one make you feel you’re anything but a force with which to be reckoned.”
Jenna nodded, eyes shining. “Thank you, Dr. Blais. That means a lot. It really does.”
Edwin tightened his grip and rested his other hand atop hers before releasing her and turning to Forrest. Only then did Forrest’s words register.
“I’d very much like to hang out. I didn’t imagine you’d wait your supper on me this late, but if you’ve not yet eaten…”
“I tried to tempt him with some rib eye, but he was quite adamant about waiting.” Jenna ran her fingers under her eyes, presumably to neaten her makeup. “I wouldn’t have pushed had I known who he was waiting for.”
Forrest ducked his head. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t that hungry.”
As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.
Edwin hoped he wasn’t complicating matters between the young people; sometimes ladies didn’t like their gentlemen spending alone time with gay fellows, no matter how unlikely it was something untoward would happen. Then again, Forrest had characterized the relationship as a nondating friendly arrangement, and he had to respect their right to make their own choices, didn’t he?
He glanced at Jenna, then back at Forrest, speaking slowly to give her time to object to what he was proposing. “You already put the food in the fridge. If you and Nasty would like to come to my home, I’m only a couple blocks away. I’d be happy to cook.”
“You’d cook for me?” Forrest stepped into the light enough that Edwin could see the shocked pleasure on his face.
Jenna looked between them and smiled. “You guys have fun.”
She kissed Forrest on the cheek and patted Edwin’s shoulder. “You take good care of my guy here. He’s a sweetie.”
“Of course, of course. Thank you.” Edwin watched her go, still uncertain of the dynamic but more comfortable having been given some kind of blessing. Still, she’d called Forrest her guy. That implied possessiveness.