While waiting for the groceries to arrive Mathieu decided to take the first step in his recovery. He Googled psychiatrists in the area but, like Solomon did, he opened several websites but didn’t see what he was looking for. He changed his search criteria to ‘psychiatrists for panic attacks’. He called the first number but the receptionist said the doctor didn’t make home visits. He skipped ahead a few results and called another number but had to leave a message. The Irishman went back a few entries and dialed another number and left another message. After leaving messages for two more doctors Mathieu was done. He had such hopes when he began but after getting nowhere with the doctors he was crushed. He flung himself down onto the sofa and drifted off to sleep.
An hour later, awakened by the grocery delivery Mathieu had everything put away except for the ingredients for the custard pie. He began by adding the milk to a saucepan and setting the flame to a medium high. While waiting for the milk to boil he beat together egg yolks and sugar. After the milk just came to a boil semolina was whisked in. To temper the egg mixture he added a ladle full of the hot milk and stirred then poured the egg mixture into the saucepan with the milk. The Irishman whisked the milk/egg mixture until it thickened then removed it from the heat to stir in the butter and vanilla. He set that aside to cool, set the oven to temperature and began work to work with the phyllo sheets. He cut the large sheets in half to make two piles, one pile he covered with a wet towel so they wouldn’t dry out. The other he began to layer into a buttered nine by twelve baking pan; each layer brushed with butter before another layer was added. Two sheets from the first pile were layered half in and half out of the pan, the custard was poured in and the flaps from the two sheets were folded over the custard. The rest of the dough sheets were layered in and buttered. The artist placed the baking dish into the freezer for ten minutes before scoring the top into serving sizes with a serrated knife. He baked the dessert for forty-five minutes then set in on the counter to cool. While the custard pie cooled the brunette prepared the syrup by boiling the water and sugar in a saucepan with lemon rind, orange rind and lemon juice for fifteen minutes. He removed the rinds and let the syrup cool to room temperature. When both the pie and the syrup were cool the syrup was carefully ladled over the pie so it could be absorbed.
***
Just before he left work Solomon got a call from Adrian who somehow managed to get himself invited to dinner. Solomon was still wondering how he got talked into it when he called Mathieu to ask him if it was okay. It was alright with Mathieu and he assured Solomon that there would be plenty of food for three but there probably wouldn’t be any leftovers for Solomon to take for lunch the next day. Solomon was immediately put off by that and cursed Adrian even though he hadn’t any idea what they were having or what it would taste like.
On his way home Solomon stopped at the florist and bought Mathieu a bouquet of mixed flowers. When presented with them later Mathieu almost felt guilty when he realized that Solomon would have to chop the onion knowing that it would bring tears to the older man’s eyes. With this dish, like the ones Solomon helped with previously, Mathieu had him measure out and prepare all the ingredients before starting to cook. Into a small dish Solomon measured, oregano, cinnamon and crushed garlic. He opened a can of crushed tomatoes, broke ten lasagna noodles into pieces and filled a measuring cup with two cups of water. The last thing Mathieu had the blonde do was chop the onion.
The blonde sniffled and cursed as he tried to cut the onion into small dices as Mathieu instructed him, “What the hell, Matt? How am I supposed to cut the thing when I can’t see?”
Mathieu pushed Solomon aside gently and finished the chopping while Solomon went to wash his face. When he returned Mathieu explained that there was an enzyme inside the onion that was released when the onion was cut into. The enzyme goes through a chemical change when it hits the air and when it comes in contact with the eye it causes an irritation and the eye produces tears to rid itself of the irritation.
The explanation didn’t make Solomon’s eyes feel any better but he kissed Mathieu on the cheek for it anyway, “What’s next?”
“Now you can start cooking. Put the ground beef into the skillet and brown it on medium high heat.” Mathieu returned the kiss and stepped aside to watch.
Solomon dumped the beef into the pan and turned on the flame, “that’s easy enough.” Solomon moved back to stand next to Mathieu; arms folded across his chest.
Mathieu laughed, “Take the wooden spoon and break the meat apart so it will cook properly.”
“Oh, right.” Solomon took up the spoon and broke the meat apart and stirred it until it browned.
Mathieu took the wooden spoon from Solomon’s hand and replaced it with a slotted spoon so Solomon could remove the cooked meat from the skillet to drain on a plate covered with paper towels. The next step was to cook the onions in the remaining fat until they were golden brown. The oregano, cinnamon and garlic were added and cooked for thirty seconds. The two cups of water were added next and brought to a boil. The meat was returned to the pan, the broken lasagna noodles were layered in and lastly the canned tomatoes were poured over the top. The skillet was covered and the timer set for eighteen minutes.
Solomon heard footsteps on the stairs and opened Mathieu’s door to Adrian. The two men hugged in their usual greeting and Adrian shook Mathieu’s hand. “Wow. That smells great. Mathieu, Solomon was right, you’re food smells delicious. I wish Anders could be here. I think I’ll text him.”
“Actually,” Mathieu replied, “Solomon is responsible for dinner tonight. The only thing I did was help chop the onion.”
“Solomon?” Adrian scoffed. “Solomon can’t boil water.”
“Hey! I can too boil water. Don’t bother Anders. Don’t you feel bad that he’s always at the restaurant and can’t enjoy nights out like this?”
“Uh, no. He could promote that chef he has and have a night or two off a week but he’s a workaholic and doesn’t trust anyone to handle his dinner rush. He should’ve stayed in accounting with us. What’s with that face?” The Welshman asked Mathieu.
Solomon spoke up, “Don’t mind him. That’s the face he makes whenever someone mentions accounting. See?” Mathieu made the face a second time. “Isn’t it cute?”
“Cute?” Adrian looked from Solomon to Mathieu and back again, “Oh boy, you’re both smitten.”
Solomon corrected him, “You saw us at brunch the other day. You didn’t realize it then? But I’m afraid it’s more than that for me.” He moved over to Mathieu, threw his arms around the Irishman, drew his head down and kissed him passionately. When they broke apart the blonde whispered, “I’ve been dreaming of doing that all day. There’s something I’d like to go over with you later too. It’s nothing bad so don’t worry. Okay?”
Mathieu whispered back, “Okay.” He turned to Adrian and asked, “Do you want to help us make salad?”
Adrian replied, “First, you were sick at brunch so I didn’t pay much attention. Plus there were mimosas. Why would I look at you when there were mimosas? Second, I would prefer to not help make salad if that’s okay with you. Third, is there anything to drink?”
Mathieu went to the fridge to retrieve a beer for Adrian while Solomon gaped at his friend’s straightforwardness. To Mathieu, Adrian said, “Thank you.” To Solomon, Adrian said, “What?”
Solomon just shook his head and returned to the kitchen to help Mathieu with the salad. They finished just as the timer went off. The Irishman had Solomon lift the lid from the skillet, stir and mix in some heavy cream to thicken the sauce. They let the sauce thicken for two minutes before Solomon spooned three servings onto plates and brought them to the table with the side salads, crumbled feta cheese for the salad and entrée and sliced bread with butter.
Adrian dug right in, “This is so good! Cooking is a good hobby for someone like you.”
Solomon was furious instantly, “What the hell do you mean ‘someone like you’? Someone like who? Anders coo
ks, is that a good hobby for someone like him?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Adrian backpedaled, “I meant that it was a good hobby for somebody who worked from home. Seriously, Solomon, you know me better than that. If I thought less of Mathieu I wouldn’t be here. Mathieu, I’m so sorry. It just came out the wrong way.”
Mathieu sighed. The words ‘someone like you’ he had heard plenty of times before from voices filled with malice; one of the voices belonged to his father. He looked to Solomon for guidance. If Solomon would forgive then he would too. He put his hand on Solomon’s thigh and leaned toward Solomon. Solomon looked down at the leaning Irishman and nodded. Mathieu looked over at Adrian and smiled warily, “Its okay, Adrian.” Mathieu smiled but after that things weren’t the same between them and all three men felt it. They ate in relative silence; Solomon and Adrian making casual small talk as if they were acquaintances instead of long-time friends. Mathieu just picked at his food, shoving it around his plate with the fork.
Halfway through dinner Mathieu’s phone rang and he excused himself to take the call in the bedroom. One of the doctors was returning his call from the afternoon. She listened intently to what Mathieu explained and she said she would be glad to help him with his recovery. They scheduled a meeting at his flat for Monday morning. When he disconnected the call he felt the feeling of hope blossoming again. The Irishman returned to the table beaming. He leaned into Solomon and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Got good news, did you?”
“Very. But we’ll talk about it after dinner. Who’s up for dessert? We’re having Galaktoboureko.” Mathieu’s mood had significantly lightened.
“What the hell is that?” Adrian asked hesitantly.
“It’s Greek custard pie.” Mathieu laughed.
“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that?”
“Because custard pie doesn’t sound as impressive as Galaktoboureko.”
Solomon chuckled, “He got you there.”
“Yes, he certainly did.” Adrian smiled.
***
Later that evening Solomon and Mathieu were in their usual cuddle spot on Mathieu’s sofa when Solomon brought up the phone calls he made earlier that day. He told the Irishman about the call he took from Dr. Elise Turner. He didn’t go into detail with everything but he gave his opinion of the doctor from the brief conversation that they had. He liked her, she was easy to talk too and she seemed to know what she was talking about without sounding to pretentious.
Solomon was surprised when Mathieu said that she was the same doctor who called him during dinner. He was surprised again when Mathieu told him that she was coming on Monday for a consultation and that his opinion of her was the same.
“That’s great Mathieu. I’m so proud of you.” Solomon remembered the doctor’s advice; acknowledge every small victory and praise him. “Do you want me to be here when she comes?”
Mathieu thought about it for a minute before he replied, “I don’t think so but don’t go too far from your mobile just in case.”
“No problem. Not to change the subject or anything but I noticed that the box of pictures is gone. What are you doing with them? Oh, and I got your email with the scans of your sketches. Thank you. I sent them off to my mom. I can’t wait to get her reply. I know she’s gonna love them.”
“I told you that what I’m doing with the pictures is a secret. Trust me though, you’ll like it.”
“I’m sorry about what Adrian said. I do know him and I don’t think he meant any harm by it. Sometimes he just doesn’t think before he opens him mouth. I’ll call him tomorrow and yell at him.”
“I’ve heard those words before, ‘someone like you’, and not only in reference to my disorder. It’s the phrase my father used whenever he spoke to me after I came out and something didn’t go my way. When I lost my first job because of cut backs he said it was really because the boss didn’t want someone like me working there, that kind of crazy shite. It was a shock to hear those words from somebody in my own home though. I don’t think he’ll be inviting himself over for dinner again anytime soon.”
“No, I don’t think he will.” Solomon laughed and held Mathieu tighter.
CHAPTER 12
The next two days passed mostly like the last with Mathieu up early but not too early, to make breakfast and a sandwich for Solomon’s lunch. Solomon would come home so they could prepare dinner together. They laid on the sofa after dinner and watched a movie while they made out like teenagers. Solomon’s mom emailed him back with her thanks for and love of the sketches. She also said that she’d love to meet the artist but Solomon didn’t tell Mathieu that part and he didn’t tell her about Mathieu’s disorder. The only thing he told his mom was that he’d love to introduce them someday which wasn’t a lie. Mathieu’s boss had the author view the sketches and she approved them so now the artist was working on doing them in watercolors. Solomon called Adrian and threatened him with national exposure of the donkey story if he ever spoke to Mathieu like he did at dinner again. Adrian apologized profusely and even sent Mathieu flowers as a thank you for dinner. Mathieu didn’t change his mind about not inviting Adrian over for a long while even though the flowers were very nice. Anders began to call Mathieu once a day to see how he was doing and talk cooking. This made Solomon kind of jealous because it was a topic he felt he couldn’t share with either of them. Solomon researched gyms in the area but didn’t join one. He couldn’t figure out when he’d have the time to go, maybe he’d convince Mathieu to change his routine and work out before or after dinner so Solomon could join him. Though, he’d like to work out with Mathieu in a completely different way but he kept trying to suppress those thoughts.
Solomon wanted to take their relationship to another level but Mathieu wanted to go slow. When Solomon was home he spent all his time at Mathieu’s, only going to his to change his clothes and sleep. He thought it was kinda silly and he wanted to suggest combining households but he knew it was too soon. Solomon sighed and took deep breaths; a lot of deep breaths and no matter what anybody said; cold showers didn’t really work. Maybe he would find time to go to the gym after all and work off some of the frustration he felt, then again maybe not. Solomon would rather spend his time with Mathieu even if it meant not sleeping together…yet.
Mathieu wanted to take their relationship to another level but he knew he had to go slow until he recovered. Until he recovered Solomon needed a way out because Mathieu also knew that the recovery process could be messy and Solomon may not be able to handle it no matter what he said. There would be no ‘I love yous’ or ‘stay the nights’ until he was recovered or at least most of the way to recovered or maybe just starting to recover. His feelings on the subject waivered depending on the proximity of his lips to the blonde’s. Mathieu had a sense that Solomon wasn't entirely happy when they kissed goodnight and Solomon left to go to bed but the artist didn’t ask. If he asked, and Solomon said, he was afraid his resolve will fall and he’d never let Solomon leave; ever. He didn’t want to crawl into his cold bed all alone anymore and sometimes, just sometimes he cried.
***
Saturday came and Mathieu was starting to get nervous about his upcoming appointment with Dr Turner. He did what anyone with a guest coming to their house would do; he cleaned. Mathieu had nervous energy to burn. Lying across Mathieu’s bed Solomon watched the Irishman take every book off the shelves, dust each one and carefully put in on the bed. Soon Solomon couldn’t move because he was outlined with piles of books and if he moved one was sure to fall over and he knew Mathieu would not be happy.
“You know, Matt she’s not going to come into the bedroom and if she does I’m sure she won’t inspect the shelves or books.”
“She’s going to look around, Solomon. She’s going to need to see where I live and how I live to see how well I’ve adjusted.”
Solomon wasn't quite sure what Mathieu meant by ‘adjusted’ but he was afraid to ask because he didn’t want to upset his b
oyfriend who seemed to be teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown at the moment so he let it slide, “Are you sure you don’t want me to help? I’ll even volunteer to clean the bathroom.” He’d seen Mathieu’s bathroom of course and knew it was spotless or there was no way he’d ever volunteer to clean anyone’s bathroom.
Mathieu left the room and Solomon thought he’d blown it but the Irishman quickly returned with the step-stool from the kitchen so he could dust the tops of the bookcases, “I appreciate the offer of assistance but I don’t mind cleaning. If you want I can do your place when I’m done here.”
Solomon didn’t hear a word of what Mathieu had said. He was busy watching Mathieu stretch his body to reach the tops of the bookcases; on tip-toe, making his figure longer and leaner than it normally was, arms reaching up and over, the tip of his tongue was out as he struggled to reach farther, there was a faint trace of perspiration making his skin glisten; Mathieu was beautiful. Solomon buried his face into the blankets and moaned.
Mathieu heard the blonde moan and jumped down from the stool, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Solomon’s response was muffled by the blankets. “I can’t hear you. Solomon?”
Solomon turned his head to the side; eyes closed so temptation was not in view, “I’m fine.”
Mathieu wanted to go hands-on to make sure Solomon was ‘fine’ but he couldn’t reach Solomon for the books he had piled around him on the bed. It was the first time he had cursed himself for having so many. There was nothing he could do so he began placing the books back on the shelves as quickly as possible while maintaining some semblance of their order. When the last pile was returned to the shelf Mathieu went around to the other side of the bed and threw himself onto Solomon’s back.
Solomon felt the weight of the book piles disappearing from around him and he was expecting something but not Mathieu’s entire weight, “Oof. Now I’m not fine.”
Mathieu laughed and pressed kisses to Solomon’s neck, cheek and temple and playfully nipped at his earlobe.
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