Interpretive Hearts

by Amanda Meuwissen

  “Come on.” Teddy pushed Finn back so he could stand but hung on to him and looped an arm around his waist to help him walk. He couldn’t carry Finn, but he could manage that much.

  Smudge and Nora followed them inside without prompting, and Teddy got Finn to the sofa, a parody of their first night. Finn had gone quiet, sleepy, and looked nauseated. While he didn’t seem ready to hurl, Teddy got him water anyway.

  Finn hummed more than said thank you, only uttering a soft “Teddy,” with a smile. When Teddy refilled the glass and came back, Finn had passed out on the cushions.

  After setting the water on the coffee table for later, Teddy situated Finn more carefully, covered him with a blanket, and had to smirk at Nora and Smudge snuggling onto the sofa with him.

  Everyone had personal traumas to get over; Teddy hardly had the monopoly on that. Some were just harder to see on the surface.

  FINN woke with a groan the next morning just as Teddy was finishing making them coffee. Nora had stayed with Finn until Teddy let her outside earlier. Smudge had eventually gone to bed with Teddy. They’d both gotten cat food for breakfast, but Nora didn’t seem to mind.

  “Where?” Finn mumbled groggily, his disheveled head peeking up from the sofa, usually perfect hair sticking up all sorts of directions. Recognition dawned on him slowly, the memories flooding back as he looked at Teddy in the kitchen. “Oh God. I didn’t throw up on you, did I?”

  “You’d be waking up on my beach chair if you had.”

  “I am so sorry, Teddy. I am the worst, I….” Finn swayed after standing, looking green as he tried to find even footing. “I’m not gonna throw up, I’m not gonna throw up,” he chanted.

  Teddy hoped he was right. He didn’t fancy replacing his sofa or rug. “Come get coffee. I’m frying up some greasy eggs on toast.”

  Another groan, Finn stabilizing as he ran a hand back through his hair. “How can that sound awful and fantastic at the same time?”

  “Wonders of a truly earned hangover.”

  Finn’s answering smile was sincere until it soured as he trudged over to Teddy. His shirt was still misbuttoned, and he took notice of it with a sneer, but simply sagged down onto a stool at the kitchen island. “I am so sorry.”

  “I should be sorry,” Teddy said, pushing a mug of black coffee toward him. “Out of cream and sugar.”

  “Oh. Got any ice cream?”

  Teddy gawked at him.

  “Totally sober, I promise. Ice cream does the job of cream and sugar. You’ll have to reheat the coffee after, but it works in a pinch.”

  Moving to the freezer, Teddy pulled out a small half-eaten tub of vanilla. Finn cradled his head but looked up with a weak smile when Teddy plopped a scoop of ice cream into his mug. He stirred it for him, letting it melt, did the same with his own mug of coffee, then brought them to the microwave to reheat.

  “You’re wearing your glasses,” Finn noted.

  “Yes.” Teddy was barefoot and in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt too.

  “You don’t usually wear them.”

  “You’re not usually here when I wake up in the morning.”

  The coffee beeped just as Finn flushed with color. Teddy put the toast on plates to wait for the eggs to finish, then retrieved their slightly less black coffee for a taste. It was better than normal cream and sugar, and a terrible trick to have been taught when lately, he’d been craving all his worst vices.

  “Even life hacks for the kitchen. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  “You can still say that after last night?” Finn rubbed his temples while nursing his coffee.

  “Yes,” Teddy said, scooping the eggs onto the toast finally and bringing over their plates to enjoy at the counter, since it was unlikely Finn would want to move anytime soon.

  “Baking,” Finn said after a moment, staring skeptically at the food before he took a heaping bite. “I’m a terrible baker. Why do you think Rose married Blaise? Now she has all her meals covered.” He snickered, not entirely his normal self, but trying.

  “I thought you were perfect,” Teddy said, smiling without guile when Finn startled and looked up at him. “I’m glad you’re not. I wish I could accept and enjoy when I’m not. My father… made that difficult. Any misstep just meant I was weak and unworthy.”

  Finn paused midraise of his next bite of food, and Teddy could see the gears turning as he remembered what Teddy had told him about his father last night. “You became a dancer to spite him? Or to be more perfect?”

  “Both?” Teddy said it like a question, but he knew it was the truth.

  “A worse asshole, you said.”

  “Worse when he drank, which is why I tend to avoid it.”

  Finn suddenly looked like Teddy had slapped him—or like he’d slapped Teddy.

  “Not that I’m opposed,” Teddy said quickly. “Thankfully, I’m not an angry drunk. Like you, I just get more honest and handsy.”

  He expected Finn to laugh, but instead, he stared at the counter. “I am so sorry, especially for dumping all that on you last night.”

  “Think nothing of it. Made us even.”

  “Not even close,” Finn snapped, clearly angry at himself and refusing to look at Teddy.

  “Honestly, it was refreshing.” Something Teddy had realized that morning when the continued presence of Finn on his sofa hadn’t been annoying but welcome. He’d never experienced that with someone who spent the night before. “I don’t mind learning more about each other. Telling you of my past, finding out about yours. Your parents. Your pain. Even your ex.”

  That cracked a smile, however feeble. “Oliver. He’s a good guy. A great guy. We still talk, and I hope we’ll always be friends, but he was not the love of my life.”

  Yesterday, that would have been all Teddy needed to hear. Today, he felt like he was worse off somehow than with all his speculations about Finn being the village serial killer. The brokenness he hadn’t fully understood until last night was plain and worsening on Finn’s face now.

  “Maybe you just have terrible taste in men.” Teddy tried to lighten the mood.

  Another subtle smile flickered but didn’t last long. “I’m getting better at it, just not sure I’m much of a catch in return.” With a final longing glance at Teddy, Finn pushed off the stool, not wobbling this time, though his brow knit with pain.

  “Where are you—?”

  “I need to take care of my pounding head and cancel my appointments.”

  “You didn’t do that ahead of time?” Teddy leaned across the counter to hold Finn there for just a little longer.

  Finn’s eyes were the most beautiful shade of teal, but they were anguished. Teddy couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen that until now, but maybe Finn was just that good at hiding it. “I canceled the morning ones. I thought I’d be okay by my afternoon sessions. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Rain check on our date, then?”

  “Oh shit.” Finn cringed, struggling for how to reply. “I….”

  “Another time,” Teddy assured him.

  “Yeah.” But the way Finn said that made Teddy think he didn’t mean it.

  “Finn, it really is fine. We all have bad days.”

  Finn smiled, tight and false, like he was merely appeasing Teddy by not arguing.

  There was a moment with Finn still standing close when his eyes fell to Teddy’s lips, and Teddy thought, horrible morning breath or not, if Finn tried to kiss him, he’d let him.

  But not this time. Finn pulled away, and Teddy didn’t know how to give chase.

  “Bye, Teddy. Thanks for everything.”

  Something new had broken, far worse than Teddy snapping the other day. Finn—Finn was broken and didn’t want to drag Teddy into his mess of shards, even though Teddy was nothing but pieces too.

  He should say something, anything to keep Finn from leaving like this, but all he got out was “Bye, Finn,” before the door closed behind him and Nora.

  Teddy slumped onto the sofa t
hat should have smelled like booze and sweat but only smelled like the beach, just as Smudge hopped onto the coffee table with a judging flick of his tail, as if to say, what an idiot you are for not kissing Finn yourself.

  “Shut up. I know.”

  Chapter Five

  TEDDY was sorely tempted to skip his exercises if he wasn’t going to see Finn for physical therapy, but he knew he was being silly and would only hurt himself in the end. He still felt empty, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach lingering all day, knowing things were off between him and Finn but unsure how to fix it.

  When he hadn’t heard anything by later in the day on Thursday, he texted him.

  Don’t forget our date. You owe me that rain check.

  Finn’s response came almost immediately. Now isn’t the best time. I’ll let you know.

  Dismissal—again.

  Teddy got the call to pick up his car and half expected to run into Finn there, or at least see Rose or Meagan. No such luck. He considered saying something to Ronnie, since they were friends, too, but that just felt desperate, and he wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

  Is Finn avoiding me? Does he still like me?

  He might as well have passed Ronnie a note with checkboxes for yes, no, or maybe.

  By Friday, there was nothing new, but Teddy had physical therapy in the afternoon. They had to see each other, no avoiding, so Teddy decided to soften the awkwardness by bringing along the cupcakes Dan had sent him.

  He’d taken Teddy’s joke seriously and sent a dozen. Anyone who didn’t know they were gluten free wouldn’t have been able to guess; they were amazing, though Teddy was tempted to try a cupcake from Blaise’s bakery to compare and tease Dan a little.

  “Hey, Teddy. Come on back,” Finn greeted him at the health center with an achingly professional smile. “Let’s start in the exam room today since we missed Wednesday.”

  Teddy followed him, box of cupcakes in hand. He could wait until they no longer had the audience of Betsy behind the counter before he started in, but he was set on getting Finn to talk instead of—

  “Listen, Teddy, I’m sorry about the other night, but it reminded me that a patient and therapist getting romantically involved can be complicated, difficult to know when lines are being crossed. I think it would be best if we stayed friends.”

  “Oh.” Teddy deflated, not even managing a “hello.” What could he say to that?

  “What do you have there?” Finn asked, finally noticing the box, since he’d been avoiding eye contact.

  “Cupcakes. Peace offering,” Teddy said, stiff and lost and utterly thrown by being rejected so thoroughly.

  “You’re not the one who needs to make peace,” Finn said, averting his eyes again. “Maybe we can have one after we’re done today. We should get started, though, make the most of our time.”

  “Right.” So Finn could get rid of him, or at least that’s what it felt like.

  Teddy let Finn take the box and set it on the desk out of the way as he got up on the table, going through the motions clinically, agonizingly routine, like Teddy was just another patient.

  What was he supposed to do when Finn had already shot him down? Beg? He’d been the one pushing Finn away initially. He felt so foolish now.

  If Teddy experienced any discomfort during his exercises, he didn’t notice. Their time seemed to be over early despite starting with the exam, like they’d rushed without realizing it. Still, the girl with the magenta leg came in like the other day, waving at Teddy as she entered.

  “Mouse King!” she called.

  “What?” Finn said with a laugh.

  “I didn’t get his name last time.” She shrugged.

  “Didn’t get yours either, Nutcracker.”

  “I’m Frankie.”

  “Teddy.”

  She shrugged again. “Still gonna call you Mouse King.”

  Teddy chuckled, calling to stop her before she could situate herself at the walking station. “Miss Nutcracker! Help yourself to one of those cupcakes.” They’d set the box against the wall.

  “Cupcakes?” Frankie repeated, managing better on her leg when she had a worthwhile goal. She had to drop her crutches and ease herself to the floor to get at the box, but she did so smoothly.

  “Phineas!” Betsy stuck her head in the room. “Phone call. Patient emergency from you know who.” The way she drawled “you know who” and “emergency” told Teddy it was anything but, and Finn’s sigh said the same.

  “Sorry, Teddy.”

  “We’re done anyway. Go on. Maybe I’ll have a cupcake myself. I’m leaving them with you, after all.”

  Finn smiled, but it was only genuine for a moment, until he faltered and looked at Teddy with longing that he didn’t seem to want to act on anymore. “Bye, Teddy. See you Monday.”

  Monday, because this was all they could be to each other anymore; no word of weekend plans, nothing more than friends.

  It didn’t feel like being friends. Usually when Teddy screwed up a friendship or budding relationship, he knew what he’d done wrong. He had known initially—he was an ass. But Finn had forgiven him for that, and now….

  Teddy sank to the floor on the other side of the cupcake box with far less grace than Frankie had, but eventually they sat parallel with the box between them. Frankie had chosen a cupcake with pink frosting. Teddy went for lemon. He imagined Finn would claim a chocolate peanut butter, but then, he might not know him as well as he thought.

  “What’s with you two?” Frankie asked. She was busy turning her cupcake into a sandwich, ripping off the bottom to squish the frosting between two halves. Dan would have been horrified, so Teddy decided to do the same. “Last time, Finn had this, like, dopey smile on his face the whole time after you left. Did you two have a fight? I thought you were a thing, or whatever, by the way he was mooning.”

  “Kids still say ‘mooning’?”

  Frankie gave him one of those long looks teenagers had been perfecting for generations to let their elders know how lame they were.

  “We’re not a thing,” Teddy said dryly. “Don’t think we’re going to become one either.”

  “Why not?”

  Teddy took a bite of his cupcake sandwich—delicious, even better defiled this way since it ensured equal frosting distribution.

  Maybe it was the camaraderie shared in Frankie being one of the few who could understand what starting over felt like, maybe it was the sugary frosting filling Teddy with dopamine, but he found the words leaving him without struggle.

  “Finn had a tough night the other day, showed a side of himself he usually hides.”

  “The sad side?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Not, like, details, but someone who’s that happy all the time is usually hiding more pain than most people.”

  “How insightful of you.” Teddy cast her a curious look.

  Another shrug, still typical preteen but impressive nonetheless, enough that Teddy felt comfortable telling her more.

  “I think it made him feel too vulnerable that I saw him like that.”

  “When was it?”

  “Tuesday night.”

  “Give him the weekend to shake it off, then try again. He’ll be better.” She finished her cupcake in one large bite, smearing pink frosting on her lips that she chased with her tongue.

  “Just like that?”

  “Whatever sadness it is, and you don’t gotta tell me, but I’m sure that won’t be better, but after some time to realize he’s being stupid, he’ll want to make up. He likes you.”

  Teddy finished his cupcake as well, tempted to steal another just to hide in it, which was exactly why he planned to leave them here. “You make it sound easy. Everyone outside a situation makes fixing it sound easy. But it doesn’t always work that way. Like my hip. I’m never going to dance the way I used to. That’s just fact.”

  “Yeah, well, Finn isn’t your hip. And don’t be feeling sorry for yourself. That’s just complaining fo
r complaining’s sake.” She smirked, throwing his own words back at him. “I mean, I’ll never dance again either.” She looked down at her mismatched legs with a sneer.

  “Once you get the hang of that thing,” Teddy said, “you’ll be able to dance better than me. Even if you do take it off at night, it’ll feel like a part of you eventually.”

  “You really think so?” She looked at him with so much youthful hope, Teddy had to nod. “Would you maybe show me sometime? When I’m better at this?”

  “To dance? Uh… not being able to show much anymore is sort of my problem.”

  “You could still try. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

  Regarding the young girl beside him, Teddy imagined her watching recordings of The Nutcracker, dreaming of being a dancer or figure skater or even just twirling about for fun, and now all that was fantasy, leaving her longing for any way she could recapture that spark of wonder.

  He couldn’t snuff it out like a cold gust of wind. She wasn’t one of his students or casted actors turning up their noses at criticism.

  “Tell ya what, you get the walking down, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Really? Thanks, Mouse King.”

  “Bested me again, Nutcracker.” Teddy bowed his head at her.

  Frankie was all smiles by the time Finn came back. Teddy told her she could take another cupcake home if she wanted but that it was Finn’s job to make sure she didn’t pilfer more than that. The rest Finn could enjoy himself or pass around to his coworkers.

  “Are you sure—”

  “Enjoy them. I’ve ruined my diet enough,” Teddy said, heading out with a wave to Frankie as acknowledgment that he planned to take her advice. “See you Monday, Finn.”

  TEDDY would have followed through with his plan too, if on Monday, Finn hadn’t canceled his appointment.

  Apparently it was another emergency with a patient. Maybe the same patient from Friday—maybe fabricated to have a longer break from seeing Teddy.

  He was probably being paranoid, but it didn’t help that Rick and Erina kept texting him, asking how things were going with his “neighbor boy.” Teddy tried to stall by saying Finn had been busy with work, nothing of importance to report yet, but if come Wednesday’s appointment, Carlos or Meagan peeked out to see Teddy, transferring him from Finn’s care for good, he doubted he could recover from that.