by J. M. Snyder
Pablo sighed. “I love what I do. Just as you will love being a doctor.”
“Being a doctor isn’t dangerous.”
“No. But you will have long hours, bad schedules. A lot of the time you’ll be dead on your feet, especially when you do your residency. But I wouldn’t want you to do anything else because it’s what you love.”
“I know.” Sebastian looked at his fidgeting hands. “I still worry.”
“It will be all right, Sebastian.”
“Okay. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Same here. I think about you all the time.”
Sebastian laughed. “I hope not all the time. I don’t want you getting distracted.”
“Well, all right, not every minute, but a lot. And I think about what I want to do to you next time we’re together.”
“That sounds good, but since Hector’s home and just in the other room. I won’t encourage you to give me too many details.”
He smiled. “Probably a good idea. You can use your imagination.”
“I’ve been thinking about something,” Sebastian said.
“Yeah?”
Sebastian began to fidget, twisting his hands together in his lap. “In the summer, maybe I should go to Phoenix and see my parents.”
“Are you going to tell them you’re gay?” Pablo asked gently.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to until you’re ready you know.”
“I know, but I think maybe I am. I have to do it at some point.”
Pablo shook his head. “You don’t have to do anything. Just do what feels right.”
“I think this is right,” Sebastian said.
“Okay. I’ll go with you.”
Sebastian’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “You will?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do.”
“Then I will,” Pablo said simply. “No matter what they say, Sebastian, you are not alone. You have me and my family. You can rely on us.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Now, get some rest, cariño. You look too tired and I’m starving so I have to go find something to eat.”
Sebastian puckered up and blew him a kiss. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
* * * *
The rest of the semester passed quickly and it was the last week before the end of it that Sebastian got the news he had been waiting for. He hadn’t said anything to Pablo or even Hector because he hadn’t been sure if what he wanted had been possible. But after a lot of soul searching, begging, and finagling with university administrators, he’d gotten his acceptance at USC, Keck School of Medicine.
Instead of medical school up north, he would be attending it in Southern California. The only problem being he would have to wait until the spring semester so he wouldn’t be going to school for the fall. He’d have to get a job or something while he waited. He’d work that out.
But now he had something to share with Pablo when he got to Los Angeles that he hoped his lover would be happy about. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Pablo did not act positively. Fortunately, he really didn’t think there was much of a chance of that.
He and Hector packed up the car and got ready to make the trip back to Southern California. So far he’d managed to keep quiet about his news to Hector, mostly in fear his best friend would tell his brother.
“You want me to drive?” he asked Hector as they put the last of their stuff in the trunk.
Hector raised an eyebrow at him. “You? I’d like to make it in one piece, thank you.”
Sebastian pouted. “I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are. I don’t think that old lady you almost hit at the grocery store two months ago has recovered from the fright.”
“I didn’t almost hit an old lady.”
“Then she must have been a young lady until you scared her near to death and made her hair turn white,” Hector said with a grin. “I’ll drive.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Just thought I’d offer. You don’t have to be a punk about it.”
They got into the car and Hector started it up.
“Listen, I wanted to tell you something.”
Hector glanced his way briefly. “Sounds serious.”
“Yeah. I applied for medical school at USC, Keck School of Medicine and it’s been accepted.”
“Keck? How come?”
Sebastian bit his lip. “It’s a great school, too.”
“I know but…wait, is this about being near my brother?”
“Maybe. Yes. Are you mad?”
“Mad? No.” Hector shook his head. “I just want you to be sure you know what you’re doing. When we were kids you talked about going to Stanford.”
“I did go to Stanford.”
“For medical school, too. If Pablo is the one for you then he can wait for you to finish school.”
He sighed. “I know that. But maybe I can’t wait. Look, my dream was to be a doctor. My grades are good enough I can practically go anywhere. Keck is a good choice and I’d be in residence right there in Los Angeles. It’s where I’d want to be eventually anyway.”
“You sure about this?”
“I thought about it a lot. Some of it is being homesick. Wanting to be near Pablo, your mom, and you, now that you’re done with school. I acknowledge that. But doing this isn’t going to hurt me or my choice to be a doctor.”
Hector smiled. “All right. I just want you to be happy with your choices. If you are, then what else can I say?”
“Thanks, Hector. I’m glad I told you. I’ve been keeping it to myself since I got the acceptance letter and I was about to burst.”
“I am glad you’ll be in LA, honestly,” Hector admitted. “I bet Pablo will be, too.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I don’t think you need to worry.”
* * * *
“I can’t wait to get you alone,” Pablo said, holding him close right after dinner that night. Mama had made a big feast in honor of Hector and Sebastian’s homecoming. Hector and Mama had insisted on cleaning up so Pablo figured they wanted to give him and Sebastian some time alone together. “Should we go to my room?”
Sebastian nodded. “Yes, I have something to talk to you about.”
“Ah, I see.” He released his lover and reached for his hand to draw him down the hallway to his bedroom.
When they got inside the room, he closed and locked the door. Then he brought Sebastian to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I’m listening.”
Sebastian bit his bottom lip. “Okay, well, I hope it’s good news. It is for me, but, well, I guess it depends on what you think. I mean I guess I’m kind of presuming a lot.”
“Sebastian, just say it.”
He nodded. “Okay. I decided not to go to medical school up at Stanford.’
Pablo frowned. “What? I thought you wanted to be a doctor.”
“I do. I’m still going to medical school. Just not at Stanford.”
“Where then?”
“Keck.”
“USC?”
“Yes,” Sebastian whispered. “I wanted to be in Southern California, so I applied there. I can’t go until next spring, but I got the acceptance a few days ago.”
Pablo stared at him for a moment, letting the news sink in. He was absolutely thrilled Sebastian would be in LA, but he also wanted what was best for Sebastian, not himself.
Sebastian shifted on the bed to face him. “Was I stupid to do this? Did you not want me here?”
“Oh, no, cariño. Of course I do.” He pulled Sebastian into his arms. “I just want to be sure this is really what you want. I love that you want to be here and if Keck is what you want, I couldn’t be happier. I just don’t want you to have any regrets later.”
“Well,” Sebastian said against his chest. “No one can know what will happen in the future, but like I told your brother, Keck is a g
ood school and I’m excited to be going there and to be back in LA again.”
Pablo squeezed him. “Then I couldn’t be happier. Mama will be thrilled, too.”
“Good. I’m so grateful to your whole family. But especially you.”
“Grateful?” Pablo kissed the top of his blond head. “I don’t want your gratitude, squirt. I want your body.”
Sebastian laughed and pulled back to meet his eyes. “You can definitely have that. Whenever you want.”
Pablo brushed his thumb along Sebastian’s bottom lip. “There’s something else I want, too.”
“What?”
“Your love.”
Sebastian’s breath hitched. “You have that, too. You must know I love you, Pablo.”
“I suspected, I hoped, but I’m glad to hear the words. I love you.” And as he leaned into kiss Sebastian, Pablo figured he was pretty grateful for Sebastian, too.
THE END
Tortoise Interruptus by JL Merrow
For Sandra Lindsey, who, when told of the real life incident that inspired this tale, said, “Tortoise-napping? Sounds a good start for a silly story…”
“So, that’s a Tiptree’s Tasty Ham Salad Roll, and an Isle of Wight Elderflower Juice,” Janey said cheerfully. “Can I interest you in a packet of red squirrel flavoured crisps? No? That’ll be six pounds seventy-five then, please. Tip, you ready with that ham salad roll? Tip?”
Tip shook his head. There was an unpleasant rushing in his ears, and his sister’s voice had started to sound like it was coming from underwater. “Sorry—got to go.”
Janey sighed, then bellowed to her husband, “Mike? Can you give us a hand? Tip’s having one of his turns.”
“You don’t have to shout it to the whole café,” Tip muttered, untying his apron with shaking hands. “You make me sound like a Victorian spinster. They’ll be offering to unlace my stays.”
“Moan, moan, moan. Just get out of here before you come over all peculiar, will you?” Janey’s eyes narrowed as she tapped her foot in impatience. “You’re already starting to look a bit grey.”
“It’ll be all that standing up behind the counter,” the plump, white-haired woman waiting for her lunch said kindly. “You shouldn’t ought to work him so hard, young lady. You can see he’s delicate.”
“I am not—” Tip bit back the comment. Don’t upset the paying customers. It was the first rule Janey had drummed into him when he’d come to work for her at Tiptree’s Treats. But it still rankled—just because he wasn’t over-tall and, okay, maybe he was a bit skinny, and all right, his family routinely referred to him as “the pretty one,” which annoyed his sister no end…okay, maybe the lady had a point. But he didn’t have to like it. “Sorry, Janey. See you in a bit.”
“You should take the rest of the day off, dear!” Mrs. Helpful’s voice followed him through the crowded café as a sea of customers craned their necks to examine this rare specimen of Flora Delicatis Unmanlius.
It could be worse, he repeated to himself as he reached the office and shut the door behind him. It could be worse. After all, there were lots of less pleasant things the old witch could have cursed him to turn into. A slug, for instance, would still have fit in with the mad biddy’s idea of the punishment fitting the crime. Or a snail. And he’d seen what birds did to snails…Tip shuddered. And she could have been more proficient with her curses, too—he might have been doomed to stay in animal form for the rest of his unnatural life, instead of just popping into it now and then at inconvenient moments.
Pulling his shirt off and flinging it on a chair, Tip realized he’d left it too late to get his trousers off. He could feel that weird, sucking-in sensation he always got when it happened, coupled with a sort of stiffening of his back, and he knew from experience his fingers would have lost what little dexterity he possessed at the best of times. Resigning himself, Tip got down on all fours, wincing a little at the hardness of the floor on his admittedly not-very-well-padded knees. Just in time, as the change rippled through him.
He often wondered if he should get Janey to film it some time, so he could see what it looked like from the outside. Just looking in the mirror didn’t work—his eyes went all out of focus while it was going on. Trouble was, if the visual effects were particularly hideous, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. And if he just looked stupid, he definitely didn’t want to know. The enforced shape-shifting was bad enough; he didn’t want to feel like a complete numpty as well.
As his limbs shortened, the pressure in his back increased, until with a soundless pop it released. Tip breathed out. It was over. He’d changed. He stretched his altered limbs carefully and waggled his little tail for the hell of it before cautiously edging forward in the familiar, wide-legged gait. He’d once tripped over his clothes at this point and ended up on his back, see-sawing on the curve of his carapace. It had been absolutely mortifying when Janey came to check on him.
He was still lumbering free of his trousers when the door opened. Janey stood in the doorway for a moment, hands on hips, tutting at him. “I suppose I’ll have to hang your clothes up, as per usual.”
One of these days, Tip was going to learn how to make a rude gesture in tortoise form. He settled for opening his jaws wide and extending his tongue. Unfortunately, Janey was too busy folding his trousers to notice.
“Right. How about we take you out for a bit of sun, then?” she said in that cooing voice she reserved for small children, the terminally confused, and Tip. “You can go and charm the customers in the outdoor seats.” Scooping him up with a hand under his plastron, she carried him through the café and out into the garden, depositing him on the lawn by the tables. “There we go.”
She wasn’t all that bad, Tip thought as he munched a blade of grass. As older sisters went, that was. There weren’t many employers who’d be so understanding about him having to take emergency “sick leave” at a moment’s notice several times a week. And she hardly ever teased him about it, possibly because she’d had protruding ears as a child and knew what it was like to have a physical abnormality. Tip drew his head in guiltily as he remembered all those “Dumbo” jokes that’d seemed so funny at the time. Yep, she was definitely better than he deserved.
A bee bumbled around, stopping every now or then to visit a flower, and Tip watched it thoughtfully. He liked bees. Might he be able to persuade Janey to keep a hive? When he’d changed back, of course. They could serve fresh, home-made honey at the café. And Tip would be able to get one of those outfits, with the net veil and the gauntlets…Yes. Definitely worth a try.
* * * *
The outside seating at Tiptree’s Treats was set in a sunken area of the gardens, bordered by the lawn, so Tip’s little patch of sunlight and grass was pretty much at table level. He’d become quite adept at scrounging bits of salad from people’s sandwiches—tortoises might not exactly have a head start in the cute stakes, at least not compared to furrier fauna, but Tip reckoned he was pretty good at working with what he’d got.
He lifted his head to survey the scene, wondering which table to amble over to. He was midway between a family with two small children and the elderly lady from earlier. Kids were generally pretty susceptible to his reptilian charms, but Tip had been a bit wary of them ever since a toddler had picked him up for a cuddle and almost dropped him on the flagstones. He’d had nightmares that night about eagles snatching him up and dropping him from great heights, as if he were a particularly tasty nut that needed cracking. He’d opened his eyes to find Janey standing over him with a grim look on her face; apparently he’d woken everyone up shouting, “Please don’t eat me! Eat my sister, she’s much fatter than I am!”
Mrs. Helpful it was. After all, she’d felt sorry for him in human form; hopefully she’d be just as soft-hearted toward tortoises. He lumbered over, eyed the old lady, and tilted his head to one side in what he hoped was a winsome look.
“Oh, aren’t you just adorable? I’m sure you’d like a little something tasty, now, wouldn
’t you?”
Another one bites the dust. Tip munched smugly on not just the cucumber from her ham salad roll, but the much harder to come by slice of tomato. He ambled closer and rested his head on the table, earning himself a lettuce leaf and a scrap of ham, which he wasn’t actually all that keen on when he was in this form, but ate anyway to be polite.
He received a constant stream of tidbits as Mrs. Helpful (the nickname now no longer ironic in Tip’s mind) finished her lunch and washed it down with her glass of Isle of Wight Elderflower juice. Janey prided herself on stocking local produce. Tip felt quite well-disposed toward the old lady as she delicately dabbed her lips with a paper napkin, fussed with her spectacles, and generally got ready to go.
He was about to amble off in search of dessert when she spoke. “You know, I’m sure they don’t really look after you properly here—you seem half-starved, you poor little thing. Never mind. I’ll take good care of you.”
To his horror, Tip felt himself lifted—and then plunged into darkness. The bloody woman had stuffed him in her handbag!
Surely someone must have noticed? Drawing in his limbs in fright (and also to avoid major lacerations from an industrial-sized nail file) Tip waited anxiously for the calls of Stop! Thief! Unhand (or perhaps Unbag?) that tortoise at once! Keys and lipsticks poking him in uncomfortable places, he waited in vain. Rattling in his shell as the bag lurched from side to side, bumping against the woman’s ample hips, Tip started to wonder if he really should have listened to Janey’s suggestion that she get him microchipped.
She wouldn’t even be able to report him missing. Tip could just imagine how it’d go at the police station: “Yes, Miss? You say your brother’s been kidnapped? Can you describe him, please? I see. Six inches tall, grey in color, with a hard shell. Any distinguishing features? Oh, just that he’s a tortoise? Thank you, Miss. Can I just remind you of the very severe penalties for wasting police time?”
No, he was on his own here. He’d just have to hope the change back wouldn’t happen while he was still in the handbag—with his luck, it’d be Tip who’d find himself in jail, not this interfering, tortoise-napping old baggage. People seemed to get so uptight about naked men appearing from nowhere.