The next morning I woke up to find Mr. Grant’s side of the bed was
empty. I pushed myself from the bed and used the restroom before wiping
off the remnants of cream from my ass, drying it carefully, and finding
a pair of briefs in my drawer. My undershirt hung loose about my sides
as I looked at myself in the mirror. Each day is a new day, I told
myself before heading to the kitchen.
If I had known
there was a stranger in there I wouldn’t have gone inside right away, as
casually as I did. I would have stayed out of view by the doorway,
listened a little, tried to figure out who else was there and then
maybe, just maybe, I would have gone in but most likely I would have
gone back to the bedroom and waited, maybe got dressed. But I didn’t, I
walked into the kitchen still dressed, or in my case undressed, in my
briefs and undershirt.
I saw the stranger from
behind, his shoulders, and his hairy arm. Grant was right there as well
by the table with his hands in his pockets. I went to the refrigerator
and took out the soy milk and set it on the counter.
I
looked across the kitchen to Grant who continued to stare and the
stranger turned in his seat and looked to me. I could smell cigarette
smoke and crinkled my nose. I felt foolish standing there.
“Hi,” the man said.
“Hi,” I responded.
He
turned away from me and looked to Grant who grimaced. I knew I had
done something wrong but he was waiting for me to correct myself. I was
hungry and cranky like I normally am in the morning so I didn’t feel
like playing games, after all he was the stranger. I made myself
cereal, put everything away, and headed over to the kitchen table where I
normally eat. I set the bowl down and looked to the two men who stared
back at me.
“I’m Shane,” I said offering my hand.
“I’m Michael,” the man said.
He
took my hand with a firm grip and we shook. I realized just how
foolish I must have looked to him, especially this close, him seated,
and me in my briefs. I was dressed for bed but he was clearly dressed
for work. I took back my hand and moved to the chair across from them.
“I’m Grant’s business partner,” he said.
“Cool,” I said.
Grant
was happier about my behavior but there was still something bothering
him. As much as I knew I should excuse myself I wanted to stay and
listen, participate if I could. Michael pulled out his pack of
cigarettes and knocked one loose. I looked to him with envy because I
was still in the process of quitting.
“Cigarette?” Michael asked.
“No thanks,” I said.
“Right, boys don’t smoke,” he said.
I
knew right then that Michael was Grant’s ex-boyfriend and current
business partner. I looked to Grant as my ass cheeks clenched. The
wooden chair suddenly felt foreign. I had sat on it several times
before with sore cheeks but it was the first time I felt humiliated. I
expected, I wanted, Grant to say something, to correct Michael in some
way, yell at him, spank him even but he didn’t. Grant cleared his
throat.
“Why don’t you take that in the living room,” he said.
I
looked to Michael. I wanted to run away. I wanted to get dressed,
come back, confront him in some way. I wanted to yell at him right
then. I thought about Grant and I didn’t. Instead I got to my feet,
shook his hand, and then excused myself to the living room with my bowl
of cereal. I turned on the television and found an episode of the
Colbert Report that had been recorded. I set the volume just loud
enough that they wouldn’t think I was trying to spy on them.
They
began to talk in low, serious voices. I thought to still try and spy
on them, sneak over to the doorway, but then I thought of myself sitting
there and I knew it would be foolish plus it was none of my business.
They talked for a long time. From what I could hear Grant was talking
him out of the restaurant business and trying to convince him to move on
to something else.
When I finished my cereal, drank
all of the milk from the bowl, I put it down on the coffee table and sat
back on the couch. It was easy to zone out, just before the end of the
episode they got up from their chairs in the kitchen and began to walk
my way. I thought to get up but I wanted to stay in my safe place.
They walked to the front door where Grant showed him out. He walked
over and sat before falling over into my lap where he lay his head on my
thighs.
Instinctively my hand went to his hair where
I ran my fingers over his scalp. He felt drained but relieved. We
watched the end of the show, then I found something else. We finished
it. I could have sat there all morning like that but he got up, looked
to me. He was refreshed and I could tell he had intent in his eyes.
“Are you off today?”
I nodded.
“Have you had any luck finding a job?”
“No,” I said.
“We should do something about that.”
“What?” I asked.
“First
thing, we get you a haircut, something conservative. Then, we get you a
new pair of pants and a shirt, maybe some shoes. We’ll make some
inquiries while we’re at it. You never know who’s hiring.”
“Okay,” I said.
It
felt strange as we both went to his room where we got dressed at the
same time. He had such enthusiasm that I was worried about how far it
would go. I hadn’t really been looking for a job. I didn’t really want
one. And the idea of getting a haircut was kind of intimidating. It
reminded me of when my mother would take me after it had grown out to
just the length I liked. I liked my hair long and messy.
But
I was dragged along by his energy. We went out to his car. I got in
the passenger seat and he got in the driver’s seat. I looked over at my
house. I had one brief thought to escape, to hide in my bedroom, but
then he pulled out of the driveway. That sealed the deal. It was over.
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