Page 18 of Wish We Were There

They got to work cleaning. Parker focused on the ice box and the fridge under the counter, while Taylor wiped down all the shelves and storage cubbies along the wall. Every so often he would sneak a glance over at Parker; and once or twice he caught Parker looking over at him, too. A weird, pleasant anticipation built up in his chest, warmth filling him as he considered maybe Parker liked watching him nearly as much as he did.

“Hey, uh,” Parker said once he’d finished cleaning out the fridge, leaning against the bar and fiddling with the gloves. They were a little too big for his hands, so the fingers were floppy on the end. “About dinner the other night... I kind of noticed Dean kept, like, I don’t know... Looking at me weird, I guess. Do you know what that was about?”

Taylor bit his lip, his light mood sinking quickly. “I, uh, I noticed the same thing.”

“What was his problem?” Parker asked, sounding more curious than upset. “I don’t really think I did anything to him. I mean, I’ve spoken to him maybe three times in as many years, so... I just don’t know what was going on with him.”

Taylor hesitated for a long moment. He wanted to tell Parker the truth, but the words caught in his throat.

“I...” he started, then trailed off, coughing. “It’s a long story, to be honest, but he was just being an asshole. I don’t want to get into it.”

He could feel Parker’s eyes lingering on him, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around to face the other man. Maybe Parker was looking at him with confusion, or frustration, or even sadness; but Taylor didn’t think he could keep it together if he saw any of it on Parker’s face. After a moment, he heard Parker sigh.

“So you don’t think I did anything to piss him off?” he asked, and Taylor shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied. He risked a glance back at Parker now, since he didn’t sound upset; the other man was looking at him with a resigned sort of expression, but managed a small smile when Taylor turned to look at him.

“Alright. Then I won’t press,” he said, holding up a hand. “If it’s weird band shit, I won’t try to get involved. If you say I didn’t do something to make him mad, then I believe you.”

Taylor chuckled, his chest squeezing at the unfiltered earnestness in Parker’s voice.

“Yeah, weird band dynamic stuff,” he agreed, sighing. “I figure it’ll probably be like that until...”

He trailed off, unsure of how to say it. Until the band was broken up for good? Until their last performance was over, and they could part ways? None of it sounded great.

“I understand,” Parker replied softly. Taylor nodded, and neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound between them was the measured scrubbing of Parker methodically working his way across the bar countertop, and the faint thud of Taylor opening and closing the various cabinets as he sprayed them down and wiped them clean.

It hadn’t entirely been a lie—it was largely because of weird band dynamics playing out. It was a shift because of Zach’s sudden absence, when he’d been the one holding them all together. But it didn’t feel good to keep the truth from Parker, either.

“So are you still gonna call it The Bridge?” Parker finally asked, shaking Taylor from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Taylor stammered, turning back to look at him in surprise. “Oh—The Bridge. I’ve been thinking about it, actually, and, um, I think I have a different name in mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Parker asked. His cheerful grin stopped Taylor from spiraling. He was sure Parker hadn’t been dwelling on the exchange at all, in stark contrast to how he kept playing the conversation over in his head. “What were you thinking?”

Heat rose in Taylor’s face, suddenly embarrassed at the change in topic. He had an idea for a new name, but hadn’t yet spoken it aloud to anyone.

“Well, uh,” he started, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s not for sure, but I’ve been thinking something like... Well, I like the sound of The Caesura Room.”

“Ooh,” Parker said, eyebrows raising. “What does it mean?”

“Maybe it’s not a good name,” Taylor blurted out. “Since it’s more of a classical music term... I think most people won’t know what it means. Do you think that would be too confusing?”

“What? No, I like how it sounds,” Parker replied. “And plenty of venues have weird names. No one will think too much about it. But what does it mean?”

“It’s a kind of a pause,” Taylor said. Maybe the more he said the name, the less silly it would seem. “I thought it would be nice because... Well, I’m wanting it to have a focus on LGBTQ musicians. Not just a safe space, but an explicitly queer venue, you know? Like a break from the rest of the world. So a break in the music is a caesura. I don’t know. I guess it sounded nice.”

The words had all left him in a rush, so he couldn’t gauge Parker’s reaction until he was done speaking. Would he laugh? Would he think it was as goofy as it sounded in Taylor’s head?

Parker smiled, his eyes shining. “Aw, Taylor. I love that. It sounds perfect. I bet if you have a little poster or something at the entrance—explaining what a caesura is and how it’s related to the venue—people are gonna love it.”

Taylor’s heart skipped a beat. “You really think so?”

“Hell yeah, dude! It sounds awesome. The Caesura Room,” Parker replied, repeating the phrase to himself a few times. “Yeah, it’s good. You should go with that. Unless you had other ideas?”

“That was the winner so far,” Taylor admitted with a self-conscious laugh. “So, you know, if you think it’s good, I’ll stick with it.”

He didn’t think Parker’s smile could widen any more, but somehow he grinned even harder in response.

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