by Laurie Loft
Chattering, he took Todd’s hand and led him through the house, which was filled with collectables and glassware of all colors and descriptions. The word eclectic came to mind, though the place was neat as any pin Todd had ever poked himself with. It was a quick tour, and Sebby didn’t even linger in the bedroom but instead drew Todd through the rest of the house and back to the kitchen.
“You like my place?” Sebby tilted his head to the side. The bright lighting in the kitchen picked out the gold in his eyes.
Todd squeezed Sebby’s hand. “It’s perfect. Charming. As are you. Did you know there are gold flecks in your eyes?”
Said eyes widened. “No?”
“Has no one ever told you? I noticed it in the sunlight, but it’s evident here as well, where your eyes catch the light. It’s like . . . It reminds me of . . .” Todd hesitated. “Have you ever taken a tour of a gold mine?”
“Of course. In these parts? Who hasn’t?”
“You’ve seen those souvenirs they sell? The little vials of gold flakes suspended in solution?”
“My eyes are like little vials swimming with tiny gold flakes?” Sebby’s smile broadened, and the dimple appeared. Todd’s stomach tightened.
He raised his free hand to touch the indentation, which disappeared as Sebby’s expression sobered. Todd’s fingers brushed Sebby’s face where the dimple had been.
Sebby took a breath. “You want to kiss me. I wish you would.”
Todd stroked the side of Sebby’s face, smoothed his hair behind his ear, and brought his fingers to Sebby’s lips. “I hardly dare. You’re too sweet; you’ll disintegrate, leaving nothing but a sticky spot on the floor.”
Sebby laughed, and Todd moved, pressing his lips to the dimple, but Sebby’s face had already smoothed out again. Todd was both irked and charmed; it was a tricky thing. Kissing was apparently serious business to Sebby. “Smile for me.”
Sebby smiled uncertainly, not enough to bring out the dimple. Todd felt like a cat at a mouse hole ready to pounce at a glimpse of prey. “Um . . . bigger . . .”
“Bigger?” Sebby’s eyes went wide and baffled; his face fell into a frown.
“Smile bigger? I like your smile. I . . . love your smile.”
Understanding dawned. Todd caught the dimple this time, kissed it, poked his tongue into it, and Sebby squirmed. Todd’s hand went to the back of Sebby’s neck to hold him still, and he moved to kiss Sebby’s mouth gently, as though disintegration were a real danger.
All too soon Sebby pulled away. “First things first: you must have coffee. I’m sure you need it. Can you go even one hour without?”
Todd endeavored to catch his breath. “I’m able to go long periods of time without many things. It’s merely that I don’t like to.”
Sebby tittered. “Come here, I’ll show you my French press.”
“Whyyy does that sound so suggestive?” With his eyes following the swing of Sebby’s hips, Todd allowed himself to be towed to one end of the galley-style kitchen where an old-fashioned coffee mill stood with a bag of beans.
“It’s best to grind only the amount you need for the moment.” Sebby scooped beans into the mill. “Turn the crank,” he instructed and, placing Todd’s hand on the knob of the crank, guided his hand in wide circles as the crank turned in a plane parallel to the floor.
Todd closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance, feeling Sebby’s hand on his, Sebby’s arm against his.
“Now, open the drawer.” Todd opened his eyes as well as the drawer of the mill, wherein rested the fruits of their labor. “And that goes in here.” Sebby spooned the grounds into a small glass pitcher with bright-red trim. “Now the water.” He added hot water from a tea kettle. “And we let it steep.” He placed the lid on the pitcher. A long stick with a knob on the end projected straight up from the top of the lid.
Todd cleared his throat. “For how long?”
“Two or three minutes for extraction of the essential oils. I know you like yours strong, so we’ll wait three minutes.”
Sebby turned away to set a timer. He bent his head, and his hair fell away from the back of his neck. Without stopping to think, Todd placed a kiss there, to the creamy-brown skin where his spine emerged from his collar. Sebby trembled and pressed back against him, and Todd’s arm went around Sebby to pull him even closer. He nuzzled into Sebby’s dark curls, breathing in his scent, like spicy coffee, as if he’d bathed in it, and perhaps he had. He kissed his neck and his hair and murmured his name, Sebastián, and then the timer sounded, and Sebby moved away and slapped it off.
“Now we . . . Now the French press.” Sebby took Todd’s hand again and guided it to the lid of the pitcher, to the stick with the knob. He closed his hand over Todd’s. “This is . . . the plunger or the piston. You must push it all the way down, slowly and smoothly, all in one motion, and the rod must remain straight up, or the coffee is ruined.” He put pressure on Todd’s hand and, slowly and smoothly, together they depressed the piston.
It was a long time before they had either coffee or dinner.
With morning light glowing red through his eyelids, Todd half awoke, steeped in drowsy tranquility, and eased closer to the warm body next to his, nuzzling the soft hair. His eyes fluttered open. The hair in front of his eyes was dark brown, and he recoiled. The brown head lifted, and Sebastián’s face appeared. Time and memory unwound like thread from a spinning spool. Todd drew a swift, deep breath.
“Todd? Something wrong?”
“No . . . a dream . . . falling. I was . . . woke up suddenly.” Todd ripped a hand through his hair.
Sebby eyed him. “It’s disorienting, waking up in a strange place. You don’t remember where you are . . . who you’re with . . .”
“Sebastián. See? I remember.” Todd lay back and threw an arm over his eyes.
“Shh, Todd, for a moment you thought I was him. It’s all right. It’s natural. It doesn’t hurt my feelings.” A hand brushed his arm where it lay across his eyes, a tentative touch. Todd didn’t move, and the hand commenced to stroke his arm. “Now, if you refuse to drink my coffee, that will hurt my feelings; if you grab your clothes and take off in your truck, that will hurt my feelings, but it won’t hurt my feelings if you need to cry a little.”
Todd fisted his eyes. “Sebby . . . oh, Sebby, I’m sorry. I am not a fun date.”
“Toddfox, how can you say that? You just need coffee. Wake up and remember how much fun you were.” Sebby’s fingers moved down Todd’s arm to his chest and traced idle patterns. “Guess what I’m writing.”
“Ah . . . what?” Todd dropped his fists and moved to sit up.
Sebby pushed him down. “Don’t look! Guess what I’m writing.” His finger continued moving on Todd’s chest.
“You’re writing something?” He tucked his chin and tried to see.
“No! Cover your eyes again.” Sebby reached and put his other hand over Todd’s eyes. “You’re supposed to try and feel what I’m writing.”
Todd put his hands over Sebby’s hand. “Ah . . . is it my name?”
“Score one for Todd. Erase erase erase.” He rubbed his hand briskly over Todd’s chest. “Now, guess again.” He resumed writing.
“It . . . has an O . . . ‘Fox’?”
“Good! Erase erase erase.”
“You’re making this too easy.”
“Always wanting a challenge, no?” Sebby’s finger moved quickly.
“I didn’t get it. Do it again,” Todd demanded, and Sebby complied. “It has an F . . . You’re not doing the same word again, trying to trick me?” Sebby’s finger moved, and Todd, concentrating, began to laugh. “‘Fuck’?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Sebby’s hand swooped south, Todd yelped, and that was the end of that game, though the beginning of the next.
After a late breakfast, Todd took his leave, needing to process and regroup. He felt as if he’d cheated on Vivian and felt guilty for mistaking Sebby for Vivian. No reasonable list of facts could assuage Todd�
�s guilt—that Vivian had ended their relationship, that Sebby understood and didn’t seem to take it personally. It seemed to him that he had hurt two people.
How did I get myself into this? I was going to be anonymous, I was going to keep away from cute boys, I was going to work and sleep and be with family, and grieve, and that was all. Todd pulled into the next convenient parking lot and dialed his best friend and confidante, Holly.
“Todd-o! Why don’t you call more? Geeze, I’ve been worried. You’ve called me like once since I drove down there with you.”
“Holly, sorry, ah . . . everything’s fine. I saw that you called. I should’ve returned your calls. I’ve been in a fiendish funk. I didn’t want to speak with anyone who . . . who knew Viv.” Todd scrubbed his hand over his forehead.
“That makes no sense. Someone who knows Viv knows what you feel like. And, I don’t know, life has to go on, even if it isn’t going on the way you want it to.”
“I know, you’re right, and . . . I sort of met someone. I had a date. Last night.” He winced, anticipating a squeal of delight, but Holly answered in cautious tones.
“Ohhh, Todd. Are you ready for that?”
Todd sagged with relief. He hadn’t realized how stressed he was by people telling him he needed to get over it and get back out there. “I don’t know. I thought it went well, but then— Now I’ve had second thoughts. I feel guilty.”
“You can’t help how you feel, but what do you have to feel guilty for?”
Todd tangled his hand in his overly long hair. “When I woke up this morning, I was with him, and I reached for him, and it wasn’t Vivian, and it was like a nightmare.”
There was a pause. “You slept with someone on the first date?”
“Will you listen? It’s not as though I just met him. We’ve spent time together at work, and then he invited me over, and, yeah, I slept with him. Don’t lecture me. And now I feel guilty.” Todd sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be with anyone. It’s hardly fair to Sebby—that’s his name, Sebby—if I’m in love with someone else. And what if Viv changes his mind? What then?”
There was a longish silence. “He’s not going to change his mind.”
“I know that, I know that. But what if he did?”
“If he did, then . . . he’d be being capricious, and you shouldn’t get back with him, because he’d just dump you again. Is that what’s stopping you, just that you feel like you should wait around for Vivian? Because that’s messed up.”
“I’m not, no. I didn’t mean that—I don’t know what I mean. Jesus, I don’t know anything.”
“Okay, okay, um, forget that for now,” Holly said. “What’s he like? What’d you say his name is? And is he— I mean, how old is he?”
“Twenty-five. Sebby. He works in the office where I work, and he’s little; Holly, he’s shorter than I am.” He paused. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone shorter than I am?”
“That’s because he’d have to be a hobbit, and they’re scarce in the New World.” She laughed.
“Har, har. Yeah, and he’s cute. He has this dark-brown hair that curls a little and big brown eyes, and when he smiles? A dimple appears. At work, he kept bringing me coffee and trying to get me to talk to him, and, in point of fact, I wasn’t nice, but he was persistent, and he’s patient and adorable, and he was understanding and sweet and not even upset this morning when I leapt out of bed with fright at the sight of him.”
Holly’s voice became the one reserved for cooing at puppies. “Awww, Tooodd.”
“What?”
“You like him!”
“Well . . . yes . . . I . . . Did I neglect to mention that?”
“You did neglect, and it’s kinda an important point.” Holly reverted to a brisk tone. “Sebby sounds nice, and I don’t think you should, you know . . . miss out on a possible opportunity, when it’s someone you like.”
“Perhaps I’m uninterested in such opportunities.”
“Nooo, I think you’re scared. That’s what I think. But it’s supposed to be a little scary and weird and uncomfortable and exciting; it always is, don’t you think?”
Todd thought this over, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “So . . . I should see him again.”
“If you want to. Do you want to?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
“What if I’m bad for him? What if I’m . . . just bad for people in general?”
“Todd, holy crap. Having one relationship not work out doesn’t mean you’re bad for people in general. Good grief.” She growled.
“I’m afraid of hurting him; he’s the sweetest thing. He doesn’t deserve someone who will fuck up his world. I th—”
“You’re allowed to seek happiness, Todd-o,” Holly interrupted, and he could hear the frown in her voice.
“Constitutionally I am guaranteed that right; yes. That’s not the point.”
“Well, to me it is.”
“I should call him. Or text him. Or something.”
There was silence on the other end for several seconds at this swift turnabout. “Um. Okay.”
“I left rather abruptly. I’m afraid I may have worried him.” Todd fretted and chewed his tongue.
“Okay . . .”
“I just, I like him.”
“Okay . . .”
“I’m going to text him. Ah . . . thanks, hon, I’ll call you later?”
“Promise?”
“Stick a needle in my eye. Bye. Thanks. Bye.”
Todd screwed up his face and considered what to text. Everything sounded stupid. He decided to call instead. His hand felt slippery. He forced himself to loosen his grip on his phone.
“Hello?”
Todd ungritted his teeth. “Hello, French Press; it’s I, Todd.”
There was a pause. “Todd? Not Todd Addison. He’s busy all day helping his brother with the yardwork.”
“Ah, but he’s a speedy worker and has finished already and would like to take you out this afternoon if you’ve not already made plans.”
“Get over here and we’ll talk about it.”
“I, well, I wanted to, ah, make my reservation with you, so to speak. I’ll go home and change first, freshen up, then I’ll come fetch you, shall I?”
“No. Get over here now.”
“But—”
“I think you want to. Am I wrong?”
Todd gave up. “No, you’re not. Very well. I’ll be there.”
“You were gone almost the whole weekend!”
This accusation proceeded in injured tones from the mouth of an angry eleven-year-old. Ryan had come bounding out of the house almost the second Todd’s pickup pulled into the driveway. He leaned against the driver’s side door as if intent on preventing Todd from exiting the vehicle.
“I’m here now,” Todd pointed out. “Do you want to do something? Go to a movie?”
“It’s too late for a movie!”
“Too late for a matinee, but we can catch the evening showing.”
“There’s nothing I want to see, anyway.”
“Let’s do something else, then. Bowling? I’ll even spring for chili dogs.”
Ryan ducked his head and scuffed his foot in the gravel.
Todd continued to wheedle. “Nachos, for good measure. You cannot say no to nachos. I know this and you know this, so you may as well announce your surrender now.”
“Mom probably won’t let me,” Ryan mumbled.
“Leave it to me. Your mother has a soft spot where I’m concerned, and I guarantee you that fifteen minutes after I get in the door, you and I will be on our way.”
As predicted, Donna relented. Kenneth asked to come with them. Todd deferred to Ryan, not wanting to ruin an uncle-nephew outing by adding an additional nephew, but Ryan was delighted that his older brother wanted to come. Christopher protested at being left behind, and so the four of them piled into Todd’s pickup.
The conventional wisdom
of dating dictated that he hold off on calling, so Todd compromised by texting instead.
French Press! It is I, Todd.
A minute or two later the response came: Is this the Todd who made beautiful love to me a few hours ago?
Todd grinned. How many Todds do you know?
Too many to count. I guess you’ll go back to being all awkward tomorrow.
No. What? Am I awkward? No. I will not be awkward. Yes, I probably will be awkward.
Don’t worry. I won’t out u.
Todd hadn’t thought about it. I’m not worried about that.
It’s OK. We can fuck in the office and no one will know.
Todd stammered to himself. That is a rather disturbing mental image.
Not what I was going for. LOL. Todd imagined the sweet, ingenuous sound of Sebby’s laughter. It’s so easy to unnerve u.
I beg your pardon? I have nerves of steel. LOL.
OK if I bring lunch for u sometime? If u don’t want to I understand.
Coffee and now lunch. People will talk.
They’ll say I have a crush. Just frown at me and no one will think bad of u.
“Sebby,” Todd said, aloud. He almost decided to call after all. It isn’t that it’s bad. I don’t think that. You don’t think I think that?
When can I see u again?
You’ll see me tomorrow.
Not what I meant. Don’t be mean.
You will see me tomorrow, and we can make plans then.
Ur going to make me wait allll night? Ur mean.
Todd gave up and texted the first thing that came into his head. Very well, after work tomorrow, would you like to go bowling?
There was a pause before the response came. I don’t think so?
Okay, not bowling. Would you care to take in a movie?
The response took longer, but Todd could almost hear the enthusiasm. There’s an old theater downtown that shows classic films and I’d love for u to take me. They’re showing Texas chainsaw massacre. Another text followed: The original not the horrid remake.
Todd pursed his lips, consternated. Sweet Sebby is a slasher sectary?
Slasher secretary? What’s that? Chainsaw is a classic film, it’s exciting and also existential. Todd had begun a reply when the next text came: Oh I forgot ur squeamish. It’s OK, I’ll go with friends. U and me can find something romantic. U like romantic?