by Amy Aislin
"Each Capricorn has his or her own set of values. Things they believe in wholeheartedly that are set in stone, and if the other Capricorn—hell, if anybody—doesn't live up to those expectations…" She left the rest of her sentence hanging.
"And Capricorns are ambitious and competitive, so there'd probably always be this silent competition going on between two of them, which means it'd be hard for one to trust the other. Plus," Rachel continued, "Capricorns are intellectuals. And since they're so determined to pretend they don't feel anything and they keep emotions bottled up in order to remain calm and in control— " She shot a pointed look his way. "—two Capricorn lovers most likely wouldn't readily open up to each other, not until one feels safe and secure enough around the other to let their feelings be known."
It sounded a lot like he and Ty were doomed. But Ty had been pissed at him yesterday for his insensitive words about his job, and he hadn't been afraid to show it. Had the situation been reversed, had Ty inadvertently insulted him, Elias would've sat there, incommunicative, quietly stewing in his repressed anger, getting more and more tense until he needed to escape. Which meant, again, that Rachel's point was debatable.
What exactly made him and Ty different versions of a Capricorn? Ty, like Elias, had all of the base Capricorn traits. He was ambitious—Ty had told Elias about his desire for one of the city's few waste and environmental positions. He was competitive, responsible, smart, determined. He was extremely organized and detail-oriented: For his move on Saturday, not only had every piece of furniture been labelled with the room it was going into, but every room had a sticky note identifying where said piece of furniture should be placed. Every box had been similarly labelled in addition to the piece of paper taped to the outside that itemized what was in the box. (Seriously with all of that organization, it was kind of funny that he hadn't been able to find the lube and condoms yesterday morning.) Plus, Ty had a running list of the things Major General Mom had reorganized without his consent.
But unlike Elias, he didn't deny his feelings, didn't sit on them until they burned a hole in his gut and made him want to scream. Was that difference between them a result of their different upbringings? Ty had been born into a family who loved him, who'd no doubt made him feel safe and secure, so that he'd never been afraid, never had to deny who he was or how he felt.
Rachel eventually left after Elias told her he had a meeting. Sometimes it was the only way to get rid of her, although today it was true. But he rescheduled it, and then he rescheduled the next one and the last one after that.
Sending a quick note to his staff to let them know he'd be off-site for the rest of the day, he powered down his computer, packed up his messenger bag, bundled himself up in his many layers, snagged Ty's apple turnover and now-cold hot chocolate, took the back stairs out of the building, and snuck out without being seen. Never able to concentrate after firing someone anyway, it was better if he got the hell out of there and recharged in his own space.
He was home fifteen minutes later, and it hit him that he didn't want to be here either. He wanted Ty's cozy house, Ty's infectious smile, Ty's ability to make him laugh. But how soon after leaving a more-than-friend's house after a weekend together was too soon to send a text? For possibly the first time in his life, Elias desperately wanted to talk to another person, and he didn't want to be alone.
Too bad he didn't know the etiquette of dating. If he had more guts, he'd hop in his car and drive over to Ty's, surprise him with lunch or something. Instead he brewed coffee, changed into sweats and a hoodie, and transferred the pictures he took yesterday over to his laptop. He hadn't lied when he'd told Ty that he hadn't taken that many...he only had a dozen, and ten of those were of Ty. He'd been too embarrassed to let Ty see them when he'd asked. The other two were pretty decent shots of a northern cardinal and a tiny chickadee, so he touched those up using his photo editing software, added his digital signature, uploaded them to his website, and submitted them to his contact at CanadaBirds magazine.
Then he went back to the images of Ty: Ty putting on his snowshoes, Ty showing Elias how to put on his own, Ty smiling, Ty pointing at a funny tree on the Starkey Hill trail, Ty's nostril and eye from when he'd tried to take a selfie of them.
The best one, by far, was the last one Elias took, Ty with his head thrown back in laughter as he lay in the snow next to Elias. It was in profile, yet the devilishness in his half-closed eyes couldn't be mistaken, and his nose was scrunched from laughter. Elias wasn't a portrait photographer by any means, but once he adjusted the contrast and definition and added a black and white filter, he had a decent portrait on his hands.
One he would share with no one ever.
Instead he transferred it to his phone and set it as Ty's contact image.
His email pinged, then pinged again thirty seconds later, and then again a minute and a half after that. The first was a summary of digital and physical prints he'd sold via his website in the last week: sixty-seven, down from what he'd sold over the holidays, which was to be expected, but still a decent amount for early January when everyone was paying off their holiday bills. The second email was from CanadaBirds letting him know they'd be using his chickadee image in this November’s issue—it was the fastest he'd ever received a response after submitting an image for consideration in a publication. The third email...
Dear Mr. Hood,
We'd once again like to invite you to interview for an open position with CanadaTravels magazine: Director of Photography. We are seeking a full-time, experienced photographer, and based on the many images you've submitted to CanadaTravels over the last several years, you clearly have extensive photography knowledge. We'd be delighted to speak with you about the position, which works very closely with our Creative Director, Martha Lloyd. Please see the attached document for a description of the position, salary and...
Elias didn't need to look at the attachment. He knew what it would say based on the previous two times they'd tried to recruit him for this position. Martha Lloyd was an old friend from university and had been trying to get him to apply for the director of photography position for the past three months. They'd met for coffee twice, spoken over the phone a handful of times. Each time Elias had declined the role, not because he didn't want it...he did. He hadn't used his creative skills on a large-scale project since he'd been the photographer for his university's newspaper in his third and fourth years. And if he took a second to think about it, he'd admit he missed it. But he was fine with his current job and wasn't sure he was ready for a change. Despite the crap aspect of firing people on an almost weekly basis, Elias loved the team he worked with at Top Line, respected the upper management, did good work that was valued, and made great money. The director of photography position would mean a cut to his salary. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal to him. He'd always been frugal, he had quite a significant nest egg saved up, and his only expenses were bills, his car, his condo, and food. He'd have no trouble living off a reduced salary, but he had to admit that the money he made at Top Line was nice.
Plus, like he'd told Ty, a better photographer than he might come in one day and swoop his position away from him. There was no job security. Although Ty was right: The same could be said for any job. Take Melody Harwich as an example. Twenty years and then poof! Job gone because some new fuckwad owner deemed it necessary to have a younger staff.
But no, he was going to stay where he was at Top Line. No sense quitting a company he'd been with for seven years and a potential promotion to VP in order to chase a childhood dream.
He was halfway through writing a brief no-thank-you message when, unbidden, he flashed back to his eight-year-old self and to his foster dad gifting him a toy camera for his birthday. Saving the draft, he flagged the email to respond to later and logged out of his account. Putting the laptop away, he shook himself off and headed for the kitchen, where he brewed yet another pot of coffee and made himself some pick-me-up pancakes that he drowned in
maple syrup.
Hours later, Elias was still sitting on the couch, binge-watching Legend of Korra, though it wasn't as fun without Ty. He'd switched from coffee to water, and since it was dinnertime, from pancakes to baked salmon and veggies.
And he finally texted Ty.
Hi.
Pathetic.
How are you?
Equally as pathetic. He'd spent all weekend talking to Ty, and now he couldn't send him a simple text without sounding like a stuffy eighty-year-old? What he really wanted to say was, I've been thinking of you all day. I miss you. Can I come spend the night again?
Of course, he didn't say any such thing.
Ty's text came in only two minutes later. Hey! How was your day?
It was fine. How was yours? Elias sent. He didn't bother telling Ty he'd left work early because he'd needed to be alone after firing somebody he didn't think should be fired in the first place, only to sit on his couch all day, eating and watching Korra like a sad, lonely loser. He'd kept an eye on his work phone for any important emails that needed immediate attention, but other than that he got absolutely no work done.
It was completely unlike him.
He kept all of this from Ty because although Ty hadn't said anything, it was pretty clear he didn't approve of what Elias did for a living, and Elias wasn't in the habit of complaining in order to garner sympathy. God, he hated people who did that.
The next text that came in from Ty was a picture of a small, four-seater wooden table and chairs set in his retro kitchen against the wall between the door and the fridge. Got myself a kitchen table today. Happy birthday to me!
Ty was the only person Elias knew who texted in full sentences with punctuation. It was amazing.
Is it your birthday today? Elias asked. Ty was celebrating his birthday with his family on Saturday, but when was his actual birthday?
No. Wednesday.
Elias opened up his laptop and got online. It was probably too early in their more-than-friends relationship to be getting each other gifts, but Elias couldn't not acknowledge Ty’s birthday. Whether or not he actually gave Ty the present he picked out was, as of right now, undetermined. He would have to work up the guts first, talk with Ty some more, feel him out. But at least he would have it, just in case.
Got any plans for your birthday? Besides Saturday's party, I mean? Elias sent, mind half on the conversation and half on his negotiations with a seller on Etsy for express shipping that would get Ty's present here by Wednesday.
Nope. My best friend was supposed to come over, and we were going to go to lunch. But his daughter has the flu, so he'll probably have to cancel.
Should he offer to take Ty out for dinner on Wednesday? Was it too early to take someone who was more-than-friends out for their birthday? The only person he could think of to ask was his own best friend, but Kevin lived in Ireland and it was early morning there already. He wouldn't appreciate a 1:00 am text.
He was saved having to think any further about it when Ty texted again. Wanna watch Korra with me?
Um…
Elias didn't finish the sentence, since it was fairly obvious that it'd be hard to watch something together given they were in different locations.
Through FaceTime, silly :) said Ty. You watch on your end, I'll watch on my mine.
The phone rang. Ty's name and picture popped up on the screen. Elias smiled, finished paying for his purchase, and settled in to watch TV with Ty.
For the first time in his life, Ty was at a loss as to what to do with himself. All because he was distracted with thoughts of Elias and he couldn't concentrate on anything.
Doug, Ty's best friend since fifth grade, took him out for a birthday lunch this afternoon. His daughter was doing much better, but she was still weak from the flu, and Doug hadn't wanted to leave her long. He'd taken Ty to an all-day breakfast place—because breakfast food was the bomb—and then headed back to Toronto.
Ty's whole family had called him at various times throughout the day—his sisters, his brothers, his parents, his grand-parents, even a couple of cousins he was close to—to wish him a happy birthday. As soon as he'd been company-less with no further phone calls expected, he'd snuggled into the window seat in his bedroom with a book and settled down to read, which was exactly how he wanted to spend his birthday.
But he couldn't concentrate. Because Elias. Ty was replaying old conversations in his head for no other reason than to hear the man's voice in his mind. They'd spoken this morning—Elias had called between meetings. Ty wanted to text him, but he didn't want to bug him again so soon. What if Elias thought he was too clingy and needy to be worth it? Better to wait.
He wanted to invite Elias over so they could celebrate his birthday in typical new-relationship-honeymoon-phase style: under the sheets. But he would never do it. Had they been further into their relationship, Ty wouldn't've hesitated. As it was, he was back to appearing clingy and needy, so he didn't invite Elias anywhere.
Even more than wanting him here tonight, though, Ty desperately wanted Elias to come to his birthday party at his parents' on Saturday. Elias never spoke about friends or colleagues or family. Granted, Ty had never asked, but the topic of family usually came up when two people started dating, often without any prompting from the other. It gave Ty the impression that Elias was all alone in the world, and it hurt Ty to think of Elias that way, with no one to rely on or confide in or call his own. Everybody needed a support network. Ty wanted to plunk Elias down in the middle of his family and have them love on him. The man needed that type of friendship in the worst way.
To invite Elias to his party, or not to invite him? That was the question. On the one hand, if Ty invited him and Elias didn't feel comfortable going, or if he simply didn't want to, it might push Elias away. On the other hand, if Ty didn't invite him but Elias was hoping for an invitation, it might make Elias think Ty wasn't as invested in their relationship as Elias was. Or might be. Whatever. It wasn't exactly like they'd talked about their relationship status beyond "more than friends."
Annoyed with his circling thoughts, he set his book aside and called Jenn, the most level-headed of his siblings.
"Who are we talking about?"
"Elias," Ty reiterated. "You met him on Saturday, remember?"
"Ah, yes, the aloof hottie."
Not inaccurate, but Ty still bristled at the description.
"You're dating that guy?"
The way she said it made it sound like Elias had two heads and feathers for hair. His chest burned with the desire to defend his man. "Why do you say it like that?" he asked.
Jenn paused, and Ty could practically see her trying to find the right words, fingers running through her short bob.
"He's not exactly your usual type," she said. "You tend to date people who are...friendlier."
Elias was plenty friendly once you got to know him.
"If you say so," Jenn commented when Ty said as much. "I trust your judgement. If you think he's worth it, I'm not going to bug you about it."
That right there was one of the reasons he'd called her and not his brothers or Maddie, who was a bit too young to provide the kind of advice he needed.
"As for Saturday," Jenn continued, "I don't know, Ty. Maybe... What if you asked him if you can ask him?"
Ty's eyes crossed trying to figure that one out, but he thought he got it.
"So, like, 'Hey, Eli, would it be all right if I invited you to my party on Saturday?'" he guessed.
"Yeah," said Jenn. "That way you're not inviting per se. You're asking if it's okay if you invite him. Less pressure, you know?"
That was...amazingly simple. Communication. Who would've thought?
"And also explain that you won't be mad, if he says no. Your relationship is still new, after all." She paused. "You wouldn't be mad, right?"
"No, of course not." Mad, no. Disappointed, yes. But he'd get over it, and he'd understand. He thought he was getting better at making heads and tails out of Elias's personal
ity. From what he could tell, Elias wasn't a people person, and he didn't like big crowds. The crowd on Saturday would be huge and unfamiliar to him. Which was probably super scary to an introvert.
Hanging up with Jenn, he opened up his messaging app. Hey Eli. I'd like to invite you to my birthday party this Saturday at my parents', but I'm not sure if I should given the newness of our relationship—he erased the last five words—we've just started dating. Were they dating? He erased that last word. Hanging out. Too informal? Fuck. He erased it all and started over. Hey Eli, would you like to come to my birthday party this Saturday? You can say no. I won't be mad. Now it sounded like Ty wanted him to say no. Double fuck.
He needed to get the wording right, and he needed to do it now. It was Wednesday and his party was on Saturday, which meant if he invited Elias any later in the week, it would be last-minute and appear as if Ty had forgotten to invite him. That was no good.
Gah! Whoever said dating was fun was a big, fat, fucking liar.
Maybe an invitation to a sort-of last minute party couldn't be done via text. No, it definitely couldn't be done via text. Ty wouldn't be able to get his thoughts across properly, and he wouldn't be able to gauge Elias's reactions. What if he scared Elias away just by asking and never heard from him again?
When Elias had left on Sunday night, they'd made no plans to see each other again. And that was stupid, stupid, stupid. It meant the earliest they'd see each other was Monday morning when Elias passed him on his way to work. Unless Ty brought up getting together on Friday, and when he had Elias in front of him, then he could ask him about Saturday. But then he was back to leaving it to the last minute.
Banging his forehead against the window in frustration, breath fogging on the cool glass, he almost missed the knock at the front door. His window seat faced the front of the house, but it was directly over the front porch, blocking his view of the driveway. If someone had parked in it, he couldn't tell.