Page 26 of Sweet T

“I’m fine, Tucker. Really.”

“No,” he said, crossing toward the bedroom. “I’ll run the water for you. Find something clean to wear for after.”

* * *

Evan looked through the clothing on the table, noticing that there was no underwear, what he wanted most. It was understandable, though. Underwear was not something people normally shared, not unless you were close to someone perhaps, and Evan couldn’t really imagine sharing skivvies with someone then either.

He picked up a pair of red swim trunks with mesh lining, opting to go commando until he washed his clothes.

When he stepped through the bathroom door, he saw Tucker stirring the bathwater with his hand to check the temperature. There were bubbles rising in the tub and the bathroom smelled sweet, like candy.

“Is that Mr. Bubble?” Evan asked, already seeing the bottle on the tub’s rim.

“Is that judgment I hear?” Tucker asked, same inflection, not turning.

“No.” Evan grinned. “I like it. Big, rugged guy like you should have a bubble bath whenever he wants. No shame.”

Tucker stood, pretending like he didn’t hear him.

No, Evan thought. That’s not it at all. He’s nervous. Two men, alone in a bathroom, drawing a bath. It’s unusual, especially if you’re used to being single.

Tucker avoided eye-contact, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet. “Use anything. What’s mine is yours... deodorant, powders, cologne.”

“Thank you.”

He opened a drawer. “There are disposable razors in here. Shaving cream. Balm, what have you.”

“You’re very kind, and very well-groomed,” Evan added, removing his soiled tank top and dropping it to the floor. It had seen better days.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Tucker said, averting his eyes and moving out of the steamy, close confines. He closed the door.

Evan smiled. Tucker was cute. Attractive, in fact. Even more so with his nervousness and his overt hospitality.

The bubbles were level with the rim of the tub now, and Evan reached over and shut off the running water. He lowered his shorts and underwear. Before stepping in, curiosity drew him to the medicine cabinet. He felt a little guilty looking through someone’s personal items, but Tucker had left it open for him to peruse. He brought a small bottle of cologne to his nose, smelling it without removing the lid. He recognized the scent from earlier at the hospital–the one mingled with stale booze. He set it back down. Next to it was a bright green container of talcum powder–Pinaud, a brand he associated with the barber shops of his youth. He smiled, pondering Tucker’s obsession with hygiene.

When he closed the mirrored cabinet, Evan’s smile went away.

It was the first time he’d seen himself in a mirror since leaving home the night before. Who he saw was someone he hardly recognized. Both of his eyes were black, one still puffy. His lower lip, too. How easy it was to forget what had happened when not confronting it.

Evan turned from the mirror, feeling vulnerable again. He’d been fine in Tucker’s company, but now, alone, he felt insecure again. Weak. Wounded.

The tub was hot when he stepped in. He sat down and got acclimated, the warm water too much at first, but soon it felt wonderful on his skin. He wondered if Tucker had known it was what he needed... if it was part of his ritual, and he wanted to extend the benefits. Evan wanted to just lie back in the tub, relax, and soak his troubles away. But he couldn’t, because now the exposed flesh of his chest and stomach were visible. All the welts and bruises there reminding him, just like his face in the mirror, forcing him to remember...

In his mind’s eye, he saw Rick’s face inviting him out of the rain, into his vehicle—a normal face, average, trustworthy even.

Evan winced. It was so hard to remember. Not that he was unable, but because he didn’t want to. In Tucker’s company, it had been easy. He could just sweep the unpleasant memories aside. No need to empty the dustpan into the trash just yet, just push them into a corner, out of the way for the time being, until he could do a more thorough job.

But alone, relaxing in a hot bath, he wasn’t sure he had a say in the matter.

He wished he could time-travel back to the day before. He wanted his money back, and the events of yesterday evening to have been nothing but a bad dream.

But the memories came creeping...

The rain. The miserable rain. The headlights promising relief. The small talk. The country music station. Rick’s silencing the news at the mention of gay marriage.

The signs were there. But what could Evan have done? He was in a moving vehicle, dry, and heading to Atlanta.

Ha.

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