Equinox (Augarten Book 1)

by Charlie Godwyne

  He crossed his arms protectively, then blurted, "I've been doing some research, and I think I'm demi. Do you know what that means?"

  I leaned back against the wall of the building, the bicycle trailer between us. "No, I don't…didn't you tell me you were gay?"

  Solomon nodded. "Yes. Being demi, in my case, means that I just don't have a sex drive unless I'm in love with someone. That's why adhering to the celibacy vow in the priesthood had never been a problem for me. I wasn't looking at anyone, so I wasn't developing any emotional bonds, and thus my sex drive effectively did not exist."

  "Oh…" I scratched the back of my head, wondering why he was telling me all this. "What do you want me to do?" Surely he was telling me this so that I could do something for him? What was I supposed to do with this information?

  That seemed the wrong thing to say, as Solomon hunched in on himself in response. "I just wanted you to know, Gabriel."

  "Okay. Thanks for telling me."

  He nodded, still distraught.

  "This might be too much information, but…" I summoned my courage. "If you weren't committed to a celibacy vow, I'd be totally into you. You're a handsome man, and you deserve to be happy, priest or no. I'm not sure why the Abrahamic God cares about sex so much to begin with."

  Solomon scoffed. "Now you're sounding like Florian. He's already given me that lecture."

  I barked a laugh. "Has he really? It's true though. Not that my opinion matters in the larger picture, but you shouldn't have to forego love and sex just because you're dedicated to God. I'd totally be hitting on you if you weren't celibate."

  Solomon smirked. "You already have Florian."

  I shrugged and smiled. "I am a man whose memories apparently cannot be found. Florian is my lover, and Solomon, you're my best friend. Can you really blame me for loving two people, if it's honest and genuine? Three, if you count Ian."

  Solomon leveled his gaze with mine for a long moment, as if to judge my sincerity. Then he snorted. "Trying to build yourself a harem, are you?"

  I grinned. "You know it."

  Then he hopped on the back of the bike, the message clear. I jumped on and pedaled us lazily home to the Schöner Himmel.

  Florian had gas lamps lit and the place still held a sizeable group, customers even outside in the patio chairs, smoking to spite the cold. My lover was seated on his padded leather stool behind the counter, looking tired but pleased. He smiled blissfully as we came in. "I've made more this day than I normally do in an entire week. I got so happy, I cried."

  I rounded the corner and enveloped him in a big hug. Solomon reached across the counter and patted him on the shoulder in congratulations.

  Florian held me tight. "I'm paying your rent at Augarten this month, Gabriel—no buts."

  "No buts," I echoed. Then I reached down and goosed him. "Okay, maybe some butts."

  Florian gaped at me, faux scandalized with a light rose flush to his cheeks. "I can't believe you."

  We separated and Florian appraised Solomon. "You're not allowed to accept cash from me, I assume?"

  He shook his head. "I did it for friendship. Please don't feel like you need to repay me."

  My lover propped his fists on his hips. "In that case then, I expect you here for dinner, on the nights you don't have mass. In friendship, as you say. You'll make my boyfriend happy as a lark in the process, so I still stand to benefit."

  Solomon flicked his gaze to me and smiled. "Fine. I'll take you up on your offer."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  One week after the electrical outage, the long-awaited evening of our date to the Christmas markets finally arrived. All Soul's Day being a holiday on November first, it made for the perfect time for the market season to begin. I did an extra meditative session once I finished with work and cleaned up. Beaming with pride, I donned the three-piece suit from Anne and Sarah. Never since waking in Augarten had I been so proud to own something. I could see myself years in the future wearing this suit, working alongside Mr. Buchinger, dating Florian, hanging out with Solomon, helping with the harvest and planting season at Augarten. Paying my own rent, living my own life.

  "I have so much to live for," I said to Ian. "Thank you for your guidance."

  I felt him swat me on the arm.

  I sighed. "What should I do if I faint? My body feels like it could disintegrate at the drop of a hat."

  Strong hands gripped my shoulders, though I could not see him. Keep it together—don't think about it. Do things that ground you.

  I smirked. "Like eat lots of food, and have lots of sex?"

  He scoffed.

  There came a knock at the door. Rushing to tuck in my shirt and button my pants, I suspected Solomon had swung by to walk with me to Florian's. Swinging the door open, I found Andrea and Mrs. Buchinger, both with bundles in their arms. "Good evening."

  "Guten Abend, Gabriel. We heard about your date tonight, since no one at Augarten can keep a secret," Andrea said with a bright smile. "So we asked our husbands to loan you some of the things they wear to the opera."

  "My man isn't the tallest, but maybe this will fit you." Mrs. Buchinger held up a long black wool coat. Double-breasted with brass buttons, long tails, and a high collar. Sarah would approve.

  I slid the coat on. It was tight in the shoulders, a bit short at the cuffs, and designed for someone with more weight than I held, but still very nice. "This is awesome."

  "Now my turn." Andrea handed me a top hat and cane, the cane a bit short and the hat a bit big.

  Then Andrea wrapped a long wool scarf around my neck. "No gloves tonight—none of them would fit you."

  "This is more than enough. Thank you so much."

  Mrs. Buchinger clapped her hands. "Now, who's the lucky lady, and where did you meet her?"

  Oh dear. I knew Maria knew about us, since she and Florian were close, but I did not know whether she had told anyone, or whether anyone had spotted us together. I struggled to respond.

  Andrea jumped in. "Gabriel's date is a lovely gentleman. Florian Schwarz owns the Schöner Himmel coffeeshop here in the second district."

  My cheeks burned, but Mrs. Buchinger beamed. "Go get him, Gabriel!"

  Making my way down Taborstraße, I felt fit as a king.

  I entered the Schöner Himmel to the tinkling of the bell, the sign turned to Closed but the door unlocked for me to get in.

  "Gabriel, be right there."

  Florian rounded the corner from the kitchen and stopped, his mouth agape. "Look at you."

  I removed my top hat and swept down into a bow. "Good evening, honored sir."

  He laughed, positively delighted. "Gabriel, you look like a master bookmaker already."

  Rising from my bow, I grinned despite myself.

  Florian motioned to his work clothes. "And I am underdressed. Let me pull you a shot so I can go upstairs and fix this."

  He rebuffed my attempts to convince him he looked just fine, so I sat in the empty coffeeshop while he hustled upstairs. Sipping my decaf Verlängerter, I listened to him open and close drawers hurriedly in the room one floor above.

  Florian came down a few minutes later, and I rose. He huffed, looking insecure. "It's been too long since I wore any of this. Not like I've grown or anything, but it still feels strange."

  He had on a white button-up shirt with a frilled high collar that looked distinctly French. At the base of the collar was a black ascot. He did not wear a vest, so I could see the pleated panels of the white shirt and the buttons extending down his flat chest and stomach. He wore the shirt tucked into tight black dress pants.

  Not noticing me taking in the view, Florian motioned to the door. "Shall we? Solomon called—he's held up at work and will meet us there."

  He crossed the shop while buttoning his cuffs. My breath stilled when I saw that his black pants were high-waisted, which meant from the back the material hugged his ass enough to make out the entirety of the shape. Oh.

  Florian slid a mid-calf-length trench
coat on, belting it at the waist and shaking me from my trance. Maybe the coat was for the best, since I would be altogether too distracted otherwise.

  He locked up the shop, and we were off. We walked side by side, me wishing I could touch him. At Taborstraße, I turned toward the ring.

  Florian lingered a step behind as I passed the tram stop. "Are we not taking the bim?"

  "We can if you like, but I saved money for a carriage."

  Florian gasped and rushed to catch up. He slipped his arm through mine, then realized what he'd done, but before he could retract it, I clamped his arm to my side and felt him relax against me.

  Further down Taborstraße, a carriage pulled in front of us. Jogging ahead, I flagged him and asked if he had room. There was an older couple already in the open-air carriage, and the driver asked them in English if we could hop in until the next buggy stop. Thankfully, they were amenable.

  I helped my boyfriend up into the carriage. We spoke softly to each other across the bridge. Then we transferred to our own carriage; ours had two white horses with red ear caps. The driver confirmed that we were native Viennese and therefore did not need the tour guide spiel.

  Florian huddled close, a wool blanket from the carriage tucked around our legs. It was a chilly night. A little windy on the canal, but the wind stopped once we got into the first district.

  "I take the tourists by Saint Stephen's," the carriage driver said back to us. "But if you don't want to deal with the crowds, I can weave us through on the side streets."

  "Side streets, please," Florian answered immediately.

  Under the blanket, I felt around until I found Florian's hand on his thigh and held it. He jumped, but then smiled at me and settled back down again.

  He laid his head on my shoulder and I rested my cheek on top of his head. Words bubbled to the surface, but I did not dare risk interrupting this moment. Words like When I am with you, I do not feel lost anymore. With you, I no longer care that I have amnesia.

  The driver happily ignored us in favor of talking to the horses. He spoke another language, possibly Slovakian. As promised, we wound through the first district side streets: apartment buildings forever, whole blocks happily sleeping, or at least with no one home, the grocery stores and apothecaries on the ground floors of the buildings all closed down for the night. The night sky was clear, a deep black beyond all the buildings around us, with just a few pinpricks of light. I imagined the night sky tonight shone with stars. Maybe the people in the countryside had a better view. I couldn't tip my head far enough back to see them, or I would upset my top hat.

  Florian fidgeted against me. When I ducked my head down to see what he was doing, he kissed me. I gasped into his mouth, my heart fluttering like a bird.

  Florian's lips were chapped, but he still tasted sweet, like espresso and maybe a rushed brushing with mint toothpaste. He only let me go when we finally had to pull up for air.

  "What was that for?"

  He shrugged. "Just wanted to kiss you."

  I held him close. "Are you happy with me?"

  His expression grew pensive. Florian watched the buildings float by for a long time before answering, his voice barely audible over the clopping of the horses' hooves bouncing off the buildings.

  When he did speak, his voice was timid. "I'm very happy with you, Gabriel. I love you."

  That warmed me through. I cuddled him close. "I'm very happy too. And I love you."

  He smiled at that. "I'm glad."

  We cuddled close. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders to keep him warm, content to watch the buildings slide by.

  The carriage driver dropped us off at the Burg gardens on the edge of the ring road. The glass and metal imperial butterfly pavilion stood eerily in the relative darkness. I paid the driver and we let the horses go a ways before continuing onward in the same direction.

  Florian bumped shoulders with me. "We're not near any work clients now. Would you like to hold hands?"

  I extended my hand toward him.

  Florian smiled bashfully and took it. His hand was a bit sweaty, but warm, with calluses across his palm and on the sides of his knuckles. If Florian held his hand up directly in front of his espresso machine, I could probably connect where each callus had come from.

  We crossed through the dark garden to the ring. The market boomed ahead of us. A police barricade stood at the entrance, but past that were the winding paths of little log cabin booths that comprised the market. Pop music played from speakers, people everywhere. I looked up at the dimly underlit statue of Maria Theresia and wished they were playing Mozart.

  Florian squeezed my hand. "You bought the carriage ride, I'll get the punch."

  I laughed. "Put some food in me first, so I don't go straight from normal to drunk."

  Florian pecked me on the cheek. "I bet you're a gentle drunk. But either way, this market has good pumpkin soup."

  "Great."

  Florian led me through the crowds, past booths with Christkind statues and all manner of advent candle wreaths. Most of the little cabins catered to high-quality Christmas presents, often hand-made by local artisans. The rest of the booths sold various carnival foods to help people have a good time: a pretzel booth with any topping and flavoring you could possibly imagine, giant krapfen donuts as big as your face, and a dozen bratwurst booths.

  Florian left me to the side of one of the larger café-style booths and returned a few minutes later. He had a cup of soup in one hand, and a giant bread bowl filled with soup in the other. He handed the bread bowl to me.

  I held it up and blinked at him. "This is as big as my head."

  Florian almost dropped his cup laughing. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

  He tore the lid of the bread bowl in half. Florian showed me how he dipped his half of the lid into the soup and held it aloft to let the winter air cool it enough to eat. Once we devoured the lid, my soup was low enough that we could start tearing strips from around the rim. I watched Florian's adept movements and praised his methodology. The rich pumpkin soup warmed me from the inside out.

  We ate in silence, content to people watch. I recalled all of the cute Christmas presents in the booths. "When is your birthday? You turn forty soon, right?"

  Florian gave me an "ein moment" gesture while he finished chewing. "December twenty-first."

  That rang a bell. "The winter solstice?"

  "Sure is."

  "What can I get you as a present?"

  "You don't have to get me anything."

  "Let me get you something."

  He shrugged. "Fine. I want the promise of seven magnificent blowjobs, available on request."

  I laughed. "Done."

  We finished our soup and wandered around a bit more. Florian gauged the lines for each of the punch stands we passed by.

  "Speaking of, how do you know when your birthday is?"

  I don't. "I guess I should count it from the day I woke up in Augarten—August first."

  It always felt strange to talk about my prior life as if I'd been sleeping. But it was better than saying I'd been alive for three months, because then that made me sound like I was dead before, or at least non-living. Language simply didn't have the words I needed to explain my situation.

  Florian's eyes widened. "Heavens above, Gabriel. That's Lugnasadh."

  I blinked. "Is that good?"

  His smile was both tender and sad. "It's wonderful. One of the holidays for the Welsh gods I pray to. It falls halfway between the summer solstice and autumnal equinox, and is seen as one of the luckiest days of the year, a day to celebrate the final push toward harvest."

  That sounded cool. "…I see."

  An hour later, Florian was gloriously tipsy, and I was doing my level best to keep up with him.

  "Gabriel," Florian drawled, lolling his head against my shoulder.

  "Yes? Wait, you're the brew master at the Schöner Himmel, right? Your grand messengers referred you to as such on the day of the power outage."

>   "I am."

  "Well, then. What were you going to tell me…master?"

  A shiver ran through him so hard I felt it reverberate up my arm. "I forgot."

  I kissed him, filled with joy.

  Florian came back from the restroom. "It's getting crazy around here."

  I checked my watch. "Was Solomon working tonight's mass?"

  A half shrug. "He didn't say."

  Florian stood on his toes, cupped my face, and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him in close. He broke the kiss and glanced over my shoulder. "Solomon!"

  I about jumped out of my skin when I whipped around to find Solomon standing right behind us, looking more than a little bit awkward.

  Florian rushed to Solomon and kissed him on each cheek while I stood there, dumbfounded. It was the typical Viennese greeting, but somehow it had never occurred to me to greet Solomon that way. Oftentimes, due to my height, since I tended to forget to bend down so people could kiss me, I missed that social cue altogether and people just shook my hand instead.

  "Why don't we relocate?" Florian suggested once he'd released Solomon and turned to me. "I'll go check and see what trams are running. Maybe we can find a market that isn't so crowded."

  Florian left, and Solomon and I stared at each other.

  Belatedly, I realized he had changed into smart plaid trousers and a dark brown vest atop an off-white, button-up shirt, a long black wool coat reaching nearly to his ankles but left open.

  "You look great."

  He cocked his head to the side awkwardly. "Yeah. I've got regular formal clothes, but I admit I'm not used to them much either."

  It was then I realized I wouldn't get to greet Solomon at all, because our normal greeting involved simply a salutation. Yet I felt jealous that Florian apparently just got to run up and hug and kiss him like it was nothing. He was my best friend.

  "Do you, um…" At that moment, I fully realized what I was doing and my internal voice screamed in terror, but I pushed onward. No turning back now. "Do you want to hug?"