Four

by Tia Fielding

  “I was thinking of putting together whatever we actually need. So, your furniture, the souvenirs, maybe Emil’s photography and Stuart’s as well if he wants. I know he doesn’t like his pictures hanging at the diner.”

  Kaos had an aha moment. “The diner is called Tripod because he’s a photographer?”

  “Yeah, I thought I told you that?” Makai glanced at Kaos.

  “I don’t think so….” Kaos looked at Padraig then. “Do you think I could sell my drawings, maybe some tattoo designs too?”

  “Absolutely. I think anyone in town who has something they’d like to sell, like knit goods and whatever else, could have it sold here.”

  “It’s a large enough space,” Makai mused. “Emil says there’s tourism during the summer months, so having a place like that might be good for the town economy as well.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Padraig glanced out of the window. “There isn’t much here to stop for, you know. Sometimes someone’s car breaks and they go to the garage, or they stop for a bite to eat. But that’s about it.”

  “But who would run it? I mean, someone would need to be here on a daily basis?” Makai looked at him thoughtfully.

  “I figured Emil might want to try, maybe?” Padraig looked at Kaos. “Or maybe you? Both?”

  “Well, I can sketch wherever, and until I get my license, I can’t tattoo at all, so there’ll be a lot of sketching….”

  “And once you do get the license and find a place to work, whether it’s in Mercer or somewhere else, Emil could take over?” Makai suggested. “I think it would be good for him, to be exposed to people more.”

  “I think, come Christmas, we could have some sort of Christmas event, even,” Padraig said thoughtfully. “Nothing big, but there really hasn’t been anything at all in the last several years….” He looked at his hands.

  “Oh?” Makai’s voice was ever so gentle, as if he had immediately figured out the subject was sensitive.

  “Yeah. My husband, Marcus, he liked to organize a thing every holiday season. He had friends who helped him. It wasn’t much, just a few fold-out tables in the parking lot, maybe a Santa for the kids….” Padraig cleared his throat and blinked away sudden moisture from his eyes. “Once he was gone, nobody wanted to…. I mean, it was his thing, and everyone was so shell-shocked. And I might have not had the best reaction when his friends suggested they organize it the next year. So… the town let it die out.”

  Kaos moved then, and from his periphery, Padraig saw a slender hand with black nail polish touch his knee. “Loss is hard to bear,” Kaos said quietly. “Sudden loss even more so. You can’t prepare for it, and sometimes your mind doesn’t heal as fast as you’d like to.”

  Makai hummed in agreement, and Padraig wiped his eyes. “Thank you. I…. Sometimes it feels like nobody understands, but I’m starting to figure out other people have lives too.” He snorted a little, trying to lighten the situation, and Kaos pulled his hand away, chuckling.

  “I think it’s easy to forget that other people go through shit too. Some more than others, but at least the gay population in this town is pretty fucked-up.” Makai’s tone was so dry, both Kaos and Padraig burst out in laughter.

  They collected themselves again, and Padraig ignored the way Kaos was wiping under his eyes, trying to keep his makeup intact like Padraig had seen Mary do before.

  Padraig got to his feet. “I’ll ask around, okay? Figure out if people would be into this sort of thing.”

  “I can ask Emil and the rest of the Newmans for their opinion?” Makai suggested.

  “Sounds like a deal. I know the sheriff probably won’t dislike the idea, but it’s better to ask, you know.”

  “He seems nice,” Kaos piped up. “Fair, at least.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Makai murmured, his expression fond suddenly. Padraig realized the sheriff was basically his father-in-law.

  “Okay, well, I’ll call you when I have something together, plans-wise?”

  “You do that. We’ll talk to you later.” Makai nodded and Kaos gave him a wave, and then they were gone.

  Padraig stayed behind and closed the blinds. He locked up and sighed. Having the space full of life would be great. He just hoped the town agreed and would help.

  Things could happen slowly in small towns like this, so he would be surprised if the shop actually opened before spring, but if they asked around now, maybe it would be before that? The Christmas event would be so nice, though, as much as it might hurt. But then again, most things did if they related to Marcus in any way, and with the life they’d had together, many things were part of his memories of days gone by.

  Having someone around Marcus’s side would be weird. Then it hit him. The person might be Kaos. Just like that, Padraig’s confusing and conflicting thoughts were back, and his mind cataloged everything his body had liked about Kaos’s more feminine side.

  “Jesus….” Padraig let his shoulders drop. He’d never been attracted to women or feminine men. Never. “I’m too fucking old for revelations like this….”

  THAT NIGHT, Padraig drank a couple of fingers of good scotch—something he’d done maybe few times in his life thus far. He needed to call an old friend, someone he hadn’t spoken to in a long time, someone he’d shunned after Marcus passed away, for reasons too complicated for even himself.

  He heated up some frozen lasagna he’d made in his latest batch of I-don’t-want-to-cook-today meals. He couldn’t make that many things—it had always been Marcus who kept them well fed before. Not wanting to think about the past yet, he took his meal and a glass of wine to the breakfast nook.

  He felt drunk, knowing he should’ve eaten first and then downed the scotch. He’d drink the wine, eat the lasagna, and then get more scotch. Then… then it would be time to dwell in the past a bit. And apologize. He wasn’t very good at apologizing these days.

  Somehow Padraig managed to eat half of his meal before giving up. Sighing, he put everything away and went to the living room to pour himself the heavy stuff. Then he sat on a corner of the couch and scrolled through his phone’s contacts until he got to Francis. He pressed Call before he could chicken out.

  It took a few moments, but then a confused and hesitant voice answered. “Padraig?”

  “Yeah, uh… hi, Fran,” he managed to say, before his eyes brimmed over with tears.

  “Hi, Padraig. Is everything okay? Has something happened?” Marcus’s best friend asked, sounding worried now, with a hesitancy coloring his tone that was so unlike the man Padraig had once known.

  “I… yeah. I just….” Padraig blinked back the tears as much as he could. “I just wanted to call…. Say I’m sorry.”

  The sharp inhale from Francis’s end wasn’t a surprise. Before today, Padraig hadn’t thought he’d ever make this call either.

  When Fran said nothing, Padraig closed his eyes. Then he had to ask. “Is it too late? Did I fuck this up?”

  “It’s….” Fran sniffed, as if he was maybe crying, and Padraig felt it through his chest. “It’s…. Why didn’t you… It’s been a long fucking time. More than three years now, Paddy.” Using the very private nickname had to be an accident. They weren’t back to that level of friendship yet.

  “I’m going to rent out th-the clinic. Marcus’s side,” Padraig blurted out. “Maybe have the Christmas event again this year.”

  After a beat of silence, Fran asked, “You… you haven’t? Before now?”

  “No, I couldn’t, Fran. I….” The tears came for real then, shaking Padraig to his core. He put the scotch glass on the table and wept, first alone, and then with Fran, who started to audibly sob too.

  Eventually they calmed down enough to blow their noses—Fran first, Padraig right after, making them both let out small, humorless chuckles—and Padraig knew now they were ready to talk.

  “I hated you, you know,” Fran said quietly. “It wasn’t just you who lost him, Padraig. He was like a brother to me, he was my family, and then he was gone and you w
ere too. Do you understand—?” A voice in the background said something, and Fran sighed deeply. “Look, I’m hurt, I will be for a long time, but apologizing is a good first step. My friend Josh is here. He says I should just… what was it? Oh, lighten up, or something.” Fran snorted. “The joys of youth, am I right?”

  Padraig chuckled. “I wouldn’t remember.”

  “Tell me about it!” And there was the slightly campy tone Fran used when wanting to change the subject.

  “I actually… it’s not that I haven’t thought of you or thought of calling you for a long time, Fran. It just happened today, because I… I can’t really say that I met someone, because that’s not it. I’ve met someone, but not like that, and he’s… fuck….” Padraig rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “To be honest, I don’t even know if he prefers ‘he’ or something else.”

  Silence reigned for a few seconds, and then delighted laughter followed it. “Oh my God, Padraig, have you gone and fallen for a nonbinary person?” The laughing continued then, and Padraig sighed, waiting for it to abate.

  “First of all, I’ve not fallen for anyone, Fran. And yes, I think he might be… that.”

  “Well, the first step of facing your issue is fucking learning to use modern words, Paddy. Like nonbinary.” There was a snap in Fran’s tone, his heated spirit coming through loud and clear, and somehow it made Padraig smile.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right with that. It’s… there’s a nonbinary child in town now. If you remember little Joie?”

  “Oh, I do! Wow….”

  “So it’s not actually new or anything. I just… I’ve never been attracted to anyone but….”

  “But burly, manly men. Straight-acting bromosexuals?”

  Padraig blinked. “Bro-what?”

  “Never mind that. So you’re saying there’s someone new in town who couldn’t pass as a straight male and you’re attracted to them and it’s freaking you out?”

  “Basically exactly that.”

  Fran let out a small giggle, and Padraig could envision the way Francis would be shaking his head. “Oh, love, we’re going to have a field day over this one.” The voice in the background, Josh, spoke again, and Fran sighed. “Look, I have to go. We have tickets to a friend’s play. But let me call you tomorrow night, okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be here.” Padraig took in a deep breath. “Fran?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I am truly sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

  “Oh honey, I know. I had set a limit to this, you know. I swore that if you hadn’t contacted me before the end of the year, I would just show up at your door.”

  Padraig shook his head, amused and a little bit defeated, but also so, so loved. “I love you, Fran.”

  “I love you, too, Paddy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, have fun. Night.”

  “Good night.”

  THAT NIGHT, Padraig dreamed of Marcus for the first time in months. He’d been glad not to have the reminder of that love and at the same time, that hurt, as often as in the beginning.

  Soon after Marcus’s death, for the first months, Padraig had dreamed of him almost every night.

  He’d begged Marcus to come back or raged at him, unable to touch him despite trying, while Marcus looked at him with a sorrowful gaze and tears rolling down his cheeks, as if he’d felt guilty for leaving.

  In the dreams, they were normally outside, in places they’d loved or somewhere vague enough not to make an impression.

  Then the dreams had gradually changed into something more wistful on both of their parts. They’d become less and less regular, and now they only happened if he’d been thinking about Marcus or if someone had mentioned him during the day.

  This time, there was something different about the dream.

  As if he’d stayed in the living room after the call to Francis, Padraig sat on the couch. Out of the blue, Marcus walked into his view from the office in the back of the house, like he’d done hundreds of times when alive.

  Marcus appeared at peace, somehow. He stopped in the middle of the open-plan living room/front hall/kitchen combination and stared at Padraig.

  “What are we doing here?” Padraig asked, feeling confused about the setting.

  Marcus smiled at him. He never spoke in these dreams, so it didn’t surprise Padraig that he stayed silent now.

  Marcus looked around the space, taking in different details, starting from the gleaming kitchen appliances, the funny end table by the front door, the painting Francis’s sister had done for them one year, which was hideous but they loved anyway, to the pictures on the mantel. He seemed fond and maybe a little bit sad. In the end, Marcus turned his gray eyes to Padraig and stared at him for the longest time.

  It didn’t occur to Padraig that he was looking like he wanted to memorize Padraig, until Marcus blew him a kiss and turned to walk to the front door.

  “No, don’t go!” Padraig stood up, shocked that he could move at all, and got to the door right after it had closed behind Marcus.

  When he wrenched it open, Marcus was gone.

  The finality that settled into Padraig’s chest was something terrifying but also oddly freeing. He closed the door again and walked back to the couch.

  When he woke up in the morning, the house felt different, and he couldn’t wait to tell Francis about the dream.

  Chapter Five

  KAOS WONDERED if Padraig knew how much he telegraphed his emotions for all to see. When he’d looked at Kaos like a wide-eyed naive country teenager seeing their first queer person, Kaos’s heart had dropped. It was fine that someone couldn’t understand or didn’t like his genderbending ways. He’d just expected someone of Padraig’s age to at least conceal it better.

  It hadn’t escaped Kaos that Padraig had found him hot in that moment. He was used to seeing that reaction from people. Not that he felt like he was particularly attractive or anything, but he knew his look was malleable, and there were always people around that liked what they saw, at least back home. Here he was an oddity, and he didn’t mind. At least not until Padraig had taken in his appearance, slack-jawed and staring, at the clinic. It reminded him too much of the past. Of the way that sort of look could turn into a sneer and a sneer into fists and fists into kicks.

  Not that he thought for a second that Padraig would become violent, but then again, he’d never thought that about Trev either, and look at where that got him. In any case, Padraig hadn’t left Kaos’s mind since they’d met earlier that day, and now it was nearly morning again.

  Kaos had woken up to a vague nightmare. Makai and Emil’s couch wasn’t exactly super comfortable to sleep on, but he’d slept on worse, so it was fine for now. Mouse had padded to him within minutes of him waking and was now sprawled on top of his chest, purring quietly as if to comfort him. He couldn’t sleep, though, despite her efforts. He looked out of the window into the ever-so-slowly lightening morning and made plans for the day.

  Yesterday he’d called the tattoo studio in Mercer and got himself an appointment there. He’d take his portfolio to Christa, the owner of Pink Ink, and they’d figure out if she’d have space for him in her home studio. He assumed so since, like Emil’s dad had said, Pink Ink wasn’t doing so good and Christa had been open about it. It was all about the stigma of being a female artist, she’d said. Kaos thought there must’ve been more to the story, but he refused to google her before he’d talked to her at least.

  He was supposed to be in Mercer around nine thirty to meet her at the studio and then have brunch with her somewhere, and then he’d come home and bring some food for Emil and Makai, because it was his turn. Once that was done, he would sketch his heart out, because he really needed to create something.

  Idly, he scratched Mouse by her ears and listened to the sounds around him. There weren’t many. Makai was snoring lightly, and sometimes the wind threw water from the trees onto the metal roof, but it wasn’t raining steadily at least.


  Kaos wondered where he could live, as soon as he had the work stuff figured out. He didn’t want to move from Acker, even if he got the job at Christa’s. Mercer might’ve been half an hour away, but he wanted to be close to his friends, his family.

  The snoring stopped, and Kaos smiled. He needed to get out of the cottage to give Makai and Emil their freedom back. He wouldn’t have minded if they’d had sex in the bedroom while he was sleeping on the couch, but he didn’t think either of them would actually want to do anything that private with anyone else in the house.

  They were still a relatively new couple too. From what he’d understood, it had taken them a while to get to a point where physical intimacy was even possible. He could understand that for sure. With what Makai had been through and what Kaos knew of Emil’s past, it must’ve taken them a lot of talking and courage to take that step.

  While Kaos had had really different experiences in jail than Makai, he’d been sexually abused as well, just not in prison but afterward, when he’d thought he’d be safe to be himself.

  Mouse made a little mewr sound on his chest, and soon the toilet flushed. Then the door to the bedroom opened fully—it was cracked open all night for the cats—and heavy steps told him Makai had gotten up.

  “Morning,” Kaos whispered, and Mouse got to her feet and did the kitty stretch before headbutting his chin and jumping to the back of the couch to greet Makai.

  “Morning. Coffee?” Makai murmured, and Kaos nodded. Makai petted Mouse and then picked her up to carry her into the kitchen. The soft sounds of Makai puttering in the open kitchen and Mouse commenting here and there made Kaos smile. He loved his brother so much it hurt sometimes.

  He realized that they still needed to have a talk about what happened to Kaos after prison. It wasn’t an easy story to tell in any case, but he also knew Makai might take parts of it the wrong way, and the last thing he wanted was for his soul brother to blame himself for the clusterfuck Kaos’s life had become after he was released and Makai stayed behind bars.