by Laurie Loft
Becca’s voice came from behind Todd. “I don’t get hangovers. I’m too nasty.” She dropped into a chair next to Todd. “Christ, Wayne, why don’t you just hardwire yourself and you won’t need one of those?”
“Someday we’ll be able to do that,” Wayne said in a reverent tone.
“I’m sorry to be a bother,” Todd said, “but do you have any coffee?”
“We have an espresso machine. Will that do?”
“Me too, please,” Becca said. “So. You didn’t do the twinkies?”
Todd raised an eyebrow. “I did not. Nor do I plan to. Ethan, may I help? I can fry eggs.”
“Sure, thank you, Todd. Help yourself. I was going to scramble one for Sebby.”
Becca’s nose wrinkled. “All Sebby’s boyfriends do the twinkies. I think all. I dunno. I don’t have a scorecard, but it’s gotta be close to all.”
Glad of an excuse to get away from Becca, Todd went to the stove and started cracking eggs into the hot skillet. “All is no longer an accurate quantification for this scenario, if, indeed, it ever was; if it was accurate, however, you may now say ‘all but one.’”
“Bite me,” Becca retorted.
Sometime later, fortified with bacon and eggs and conversation and several cups of espresso, Todd decided it was time to check on Sebastián. He carried a tray and was once again waylaid by Becca, who followed and put a hand on his wrist before he reached the hallway.
“Yes?” he said, glaring at her, but unable to continue on his way without risking a spill.
“The way you’re going, you won’t make it with Sebby.”
“It must be nice being prescient. I, myself, am not and must muddle through on instinct alone.” Todd took a step, but Becca did not let go of his wrist.
“You seem like a nice guy. I just thought you should know . . . Sebby doesn’t go for ‘nice’ guys. So if you want to, you know, stay with him, you need to mean up.”
Todd’s eyebrows leaped. “‘Mean up’?”
“Get a little mean. Not abusive or anything.” Becca poked at his shoulder with her other hand. “But if you’re too attentive and sweet and shit, he’s gonna decide you’re a pussy and dump you. All on a subconscious level, of course.”
Todd wondered whether it would be a breach of etiquette to tell her to go to hell. Perhaps she would take it as evidence that he was following her advice. “Thank you, Becca; I will give your words due consideration.”
“Fuck you. God knows why, but Sebby likes you, and I’d like to see him have a decent relationship.”
“If, as you say, Sebby likes me, then perhaps you should revise your estimation of what it is Sebby likes.”
“Bite me,” Becca said, showing no indication of letting go.
Gripping the tray with one hand, Todd dipped his fingers in the glass of tomato juice and flicked the droplets at her, quickly catching the tray again before it could unbalance.
Becca yelped and let go. “Asshole!” She mopped at her face.
“Napkin?” Todd inquired. He tossed one at her and walked off. Finding the door to the guest room slightly open, just as he’d left it, he peered in to see a Sebby-cocoon.
“Heyyy,” he said softly. He tapped on the door. “Are you awake? You should try and eat something.”
There was a groan, and a head emerged from the cocoon, squinting at Todd before falling back. “Tooodd?” he wailed, if such a limp and wan sound could be termed a wail. ”Come heeere! I thought you left.”
“You thought I left! What?” Todd hunted for a place to set the tray, but every surface in the room was lousy with clutter. He set it on the floor and perched on the edge of the bed.
“Someone said you left. I thought you got in your pickup and left.” Sebby rolled over and pressed his face into Todd’s side.
Todd twisted to stroke Sebby’s hair and feel his forehead. Clammy. “Who said? Sweetheart, you must have dreamed it. My pickup isn’t even here, remember? It’s in your driveway.”
“I thought you left.” Face buried in Todd’s side, he inhaled and exhaled noisily. “You slept with Barry and Lawrence, no?”
“No.” There was silence. “Here, I made you breakfast.”
Sebby pressed closer to Todd’s side. “Augh, I can’t eat, chingados, even the smell, take it away!”
Todd took Sebby by the shoulders and sat him up. “I’ve prepared for you a hangover cure breakfast, and you’re at least going to sample it, or these scrambled eggs are going to have a seat in your pretty hair.”
“Eggs are good for hair.”
“Not once they’ve been cooked, you imp!” Todd leaned over and scooped up a bit of egg in his fingers.
Sebby’s eyes widened. “Did you just call me an imp?” He rested against Todd. Todd sat him up again with one hand.
“Imp. A sort of little devil, demon thing.” He brought the morsel closer. “Egg. Hair.”
“Oh, um. Grrugh.” He wrinkled his nose. “I can’t, I can’t, Todd.” He gazed at Todd with big eyes. “Don’t make me.”
Todd’s hand dropped. “I wasn’t . . . I wouldn’t . . . I highly recommend and humbly ask that you sample the repast that I, taking great trouble and forethought, created for you with my own two hands and help from no one unless one counts sarcastic commentary as help.” He leaned over for a napkin and rolled it up around the bit of egg.
Sebby huffed. “Ay caramba, Todd, you’re pitiful. Gimme the damn tray.”
“I didn’t know that people said, ‘Ay caramba’ in real life.” Todd fussed with the blankets and sheets, propped pillows behind Sebastián, and placed the tray, which had legs, over Sebby’s lap.
Sebby picked up a fork, twirled it in his fingers, set it down. He picked up the glass of orange juice and stared into it.
“Hair of the dog. Bloody Mary or screwdriver. Being the thoughtful fellow I am and not knowing which you’d prefer, I brought them both.”
Sebby bit his lip. He replaced the glass, and his eyes wandered over the tray. Spying the aspirin tablets, he reached for them, but Todd caught his hand.
“You can’t have aspirin on an empty stomach. Try a bite of toast.”
Sebby’s hand was limp and clammy in Todd’s, but then his fingers wrapped around Todd’s and squeezed till it felt as if the knuckle bones might meet through the skin.
“Ow,” Todd said.
Sebby let go, pressed his fingertips to his eyes, and took a great, gulping breath.
Todd had never seen Sebby cry, but Vivian had often been weepy during his spells, thus Todd was not as alarmed as he might have been. He perched again on the edge of the bed, carefully, so as not to upset the tray, and drew Sebby’s head to his shoulder. “Shhh, imp. I get emotional about toast as well. It puts me in mind of God, for he must love us if he fills the world with toast.”
“I d-don’t believe in God.”
“But, sweetheart,” Todd began. Sebby burrowed into Todd, his body shaking with silent sobs. Todd steadied the tray and petted Sebby. Sebby smelled of unwashed sickly sweat, and Todd murmured into his hair, “Cielito lindo,” which he had found when researching Spanish terms of endearment and which meant, pretty little sky. Sebby clutched at Todd’s shirt. Still mindful of the tray, Todd rocked him and softly sang a verse of a song he had memorized: “Ese lunar que tienes, cielito lindo, junto a la boca, No se lo des a nadie, cielito lindo, que a mí me toca.” Gradually, Sebby’s shaking subsided, and Todd picked up a triangular section of toast. “Won’t you try and eat something? For me?” He waved the toast.
“Y-y-yes . . .” Sebby lifted his tearstained face, grabbed the toast, and crammed it entire into his mouth as though toast could stop tears. His head bobbed as he swallowed. He reached for the Bloody Mary.
“Oh, almost forgot . . . you may prefer the other . . . I dabbled my fingers in that.”
“It’ll taste extra . . . s-spicy, then . . .” He gulped at the drink. “W-why were you dabbling in my juice?”
“I flicked it at someone.” He slipped hi
s hand under Sebby’s hair at the back of Sebby’s neck and rubbed at the knotted muscles.
“Oh.” Sebby’s head lolled. He sighed, and Todd was so reminded of Vivian that he had to look away. Under pretense of rearranging breakfast items, he gave up the neck massage. Sebby’s eyes opened. “Why? What’d Becca do?”
“How did you know it was Becca?”
“You mentioned sarcasm before.” He took a long drink.
Todd was satisfied to note the glass was half gone. Sebby sipped again and swallowed the aspirin, and as he lowered the glass, Todd laughed.
“What?” His eyes were round and innocent and bloodshot.
“You, cielito lindo, have a Bloody Mary mustache.” He reached out and traced the line of Sebby’s upper lip, his finger coming away tomatoey. He licked his finger.
Sebby looked gravely into Todd’s eyes. “I want you. Right now.”
Touched, Todd stammered a bit before answering. “You aren’t well, and . . . finish your breakfast.”
“I feel fine, your hangover cure has cured me, and I want you.” He touched Todd’s shoulder, his neck, and stroked the lobe of his ear. “Don’t say no.”
“Sweetheart, oh. I can’t here, there’s a unicorn staring at me.” Todd gestured at a nearby hutch, crowded with knickknacks.
Sebby ran his fingers through Todd’s hair, his hand trembling so that it tangled and caught, and Todd winced. “Let it. I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole world stares.”
Todd kissed his cheek, and that was his undoing. Sebby tasted of salty-sour sweat and salty-sweet tears, and Sebby’s fingers worked their way through Todd’s hair, and Todd kissed him again, and again. And again. Todd had been teased and then deprived the night before, and so he gave in to the inevitable and found that he could after all, even in the presence of a staring unicorn.
Very late in the morning, they returned to Sebby’s house.
“That was a good party, and everyone liked you.” Sebby toed off his shoes, put his arms around Todd, and kissed his neck. “Mm, I’m going to take a bath. Do you want to take one with me?”
“Of course,” Todd said absently, “but, first, could we discuss, ahhh, the party, and . . . I don’t know . . . some things?”
“We can talk in the tub, yes?” Sebby walked backward, pulling on Todd’s hand and towing him in the direction of the bathroom. “Your face is so serious. I know you’re worrying. It’s okay; nothing so bad happened, and even Becca likes you, I could tell.”
“I fear they don’t like me for myself. It’s that, in comparison to your priors, I am apparently a saint.”
“My . . . ‘priors’?” He laughed and tugged on Todd’s hand. “Ven aquííí.” He leaned back and put all his weight into dragging Todd toward the bathroom.
Todd, shuffling along with Sebby, kept his eyes on the floor. “Do you think I . . . hurt Barry’s and Lawrence’s feelings? Erm, ah, or yours?”
Sebby stopped. “Is that what’s bothering you?” Putting his hands on Todd’s face, he tilted him into a kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m the worst boyfriend in the world!”
Drawn by sweet kisses, Todd followed Sebby to the bath.
Sebby’s idea of talking involved more kissing than words, and it was the sort of assertion that brooked no argument. Sebby straddled Todd’s lap and proceeded to loofah his chest.
Todd said, “I didn’t mean to be prudish. I didn’t mean to imply—”
This line of conversation was interrupted by more kissing. “I tried to push you into it. Because . . . they’re my oldest friends, and it’s kind of sad: they fell in love, and neither of them likes to fuck. I mean, they like to be fucked, so they find someone to do it.” He dipped the loofah in the water and brought it, fragrant and dripping, to Todd’s neck.
Todd stretched like a cat. “Can’t they find someone more . . . permanent, then? Someone for their own?”
“They don’t want one.” Sebby kissed Todd as he rubbed the loofah over Todd’s neck. “My boyfriends always like them. You don’t like them?” He blew into Todd’s ear.
“Sebby, ah, God! It’s not a question of liking them! I want, nay, crave intimacy, and that is something one doesn’t achieve on those terms.”
“Can you be so sure?” He sucked Todd’s earlobe into his mouth.
Todd hissed and pulled him closer. “You said yourself they want nothing permanent!”
“If something’s permanent, does that mean for sure it’s intimate? I don’t think so. So how does the opposite for sure not mean it?” With a sound like an otter going down a mudslide, his lips moved down Todd’s neck.
“What are you even talking about! Jesus God, this, this is intimacy!” He ran his hands down Sebby’s slippery back, into the cleft of his buttocks. “One to one, knowing each other. L—ah . . .” He almost said loving each other.
Sebby went still, his face in Todd’s neck. He murmured something, and Todd shifted in order to look him in the eye. Lips pursed, Sebby regarded him. “What about Vivian?”
Todd blinked. “What about Vivian?”
“If he showed up, you’d be interested in a three-way, I bet.” Sebby smiled, but then he dropped his eyes and returned to exfoliating Todd’s chest.
Todd’s face flushed. A wave of hot blood crested from his heart to his head and on down again, leaving him cold. “What?”
“I’m wrong, aren’t I? No, you’d just roll me out of the bed so you could have your intimacy with him.” Concentrating on loofahing, Sebby sighed.
If he hadn’t been naked and soaking wet with Sebby in his lap, he would have stormed off in a temper. And Sebby knew it, and that was probably why this conversation was taking place in the bathtub. “What is your point?”
“You don’t deny it, though.” Bringing the loofah to Todd’s chin, Sebby kissed him, a long and gentle and lingering kiss, his tongue barely between Todd’s lips, the loofah scraping his chin, and try though Todd might to refuse this kiss, he was unable. Sebby spoke against his mouth. “I’m not getting you to forget him. And I thought maybe you just needed a little meaningless sex, and ours isn’t meaningless anymore, and Barry and Lawrence, they’re sweet. I thought you’d like ’em, and they could help me.”
He paused and bent his head, resting his forehead against Todd’s chin. The loofah dropped into the water. He drew a deep breath. “And you didn’t want to, and what’s that mean?”
Todd’s brain wound itself up in a turmoil. And he did not want to think about Vivian; he was fucking tired of thinking about Vivian; he longed for surcease of all Vivian-related thoughts. Deciding to ignore for now the mention of his ex, he said, “A three-way is something one does in college, not when one is a mature adult seeking to have a mature and loving and, yes, intimate relationship. I’ve done the casual, anonymous sex; I’ve—”
He realized that he was moralizing again, and he tore a hand through his wet hair. Who was he to judge? Plenty of people had long-standing, healthy, three-way relationships. But that wasn’t what Sebby was suggesting. Was it?
“Aw shit. Sebby, I don’t even know.” He pushed Sebby away, stood up, and climbed out of the tub. “It’s cold,” he said, yanking a towel from a hook on the wall.
“It’s a cold world,” Sebby climbed out behind Todd. “Find heat where you can.”
“How could you speak to me of monogamy and then wish me to sleep with Ping and Pong?”
Sebby rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t call them that. I never said you had to be monogamous. I asked you if you cared if I fucked other boys.”
Todd allowed this statement to ricochet around his brain before speaking. “What is that, some fucked-up double standard?”
“Well . . .” Sebby put his lips to Todd’s collarbone and then laid his head on Todd’s shoulder, his cold nose poking into Todd’s neck. “If I’ve found a good thing, why should I be selfish?”
Todd fidgeted. “Because love is selfish! Shit.” He had used the word love. Becca’s statement came back to him, and his stomach st
arted to hurt, despite the fact that he felt sure she was a deranged harpy. He clutched at Sebby’s hands and peered into his face. “Aw, fuck. Am I treating you . . . the way you want to be treated?”
Sebby’s eyebrows scrunched. “What d’you mean? I like how you treat me. More than anything.” Drawing Todd’s hand to his mouth, he kissed Todd’s knuckles and whispered, “More than anything.”
Todd’s stomach settled like a turtle on a sunny rock. “Good. Um. Good. Ahhh . . . if it means that much to you, I suppose I could . . . manage . . . to sleep with Barry and Lawrence.”
With a cry of delight, Sebby threw his arms around Todd and planted excited kisses over his face. “Oh, thank you, thank you! I’ll call them right now. Maybe they don’t have any plans tonight.”
Todd balked. It was not what he was hoping to hear. Todd, I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself, but, no, I do want you all to myself. “I must stop at home. Ah, rain check?”
Hands on Todd’s shoulders, Sebby leaned away and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t mean what you said, Toddfox?”
“I mean it. But I ask for some time to prepare.” What the fuck did I get myself into?
“You mean get used to the idea. Querido, let’s just forget it, yes? Do you have to go home? Stay with me a while.” Pressing his face into Todd’s throat, he made a noise that Todd could only term a coo, and since Todd had apparently lost the ability to refuse Sebby anything, he stayed.
As Todd’s truck pulled into the driveway, Ryan came sprinting out of the house, a small dog accompanying him and tangling itself in Ryan’s feet. Ryan scooped up the dog and met Todd as he exited the vehicle. “Look, Uncle Todd, look, Mom and Dad got me a puppy!” He thrust the dog at Todd, who made a successful grab for the wriggling creature and regarded it nose to nose. It lapped at his face, and Todd laughed and held the roly-poly thing away at arm’s length, turning it to and fro.
“Looks like a beagle?”
“It’s part beagle. We don’t know what the rest is. Help me think of a name for her!” Ryan gazed at the puppy with such love and happiness that his face glowed.