Page 28 of Love in Mission City: The Shorts

I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cherished—so special.Our gazes held for another moment before he moved over to the chair.

He was about to retake his seat when I spoke.

“Join me?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

My cheeks flamed.“No, not for that.”

He didn’t succeed in suppressing his grin of mischievousness.“Well, sure, I can join you.”He sat on the bed.

At some point, he’d removed his shoes.

I like that he’d made himself at home.Somehow that made this strange afternoon more normal.

He picked up the book and squinted.

“You need reading glasses?”

I was treated to an eye roll.

“My vision is terrible.I have progressives, but sometimes I have to get the angle right.”He adjusted and, after a moment, settled into a more relaxed stance.He held up the book.“I hope you don’t mind poetry.I can grab one of the others—”

I placed a restraining hand on his arm.“This is perfect.”

Our gazes held yet again and, after a moment, he nodded.He cleared his throat and began to read.

John Keats.

Mom’s favorite.My first memories were of her reading to me.Simple picture books at first.Then on to chapter books.Eventually she moved to poetry and novels.Yes, I’d only been a child, but she instinctively understood I craved words.Words I could only learn by her saying them to me.

As Dickens’s gentle voice washed over me, I let the memories of her wash over me.I spent so much time pushing her from my consciousness, but just this once I let her be center stage.My longing was acute.Like I’d lost her yesterday and not seventeen long years ago.I’d had much more time without her than with her, yet she always played a critical part in my life.I liked to believe she’d have supported me coming out.She would’ve cheered when I got my motorcycle-repair license.She would’ve been the first in line to see me opening this store.

A tear slipped out and tracked down my cheek.I didn’t move to wipe it away, lest I draw attention to myself.I wanted him to keep reading.Forever.Soon his words became harder to understand, and soon after that, I was pulled under.

When I awoke, I found myself alone.

Like always.

The book lay on the bed next to me, and I idly picked it up.In the diffuse light of the late afternoon sun through my blinds, I struggled to make sense of the words.I wanted Dickens back.Regret slammed into me that he’d been reading and I missed much of it.Or maybe he stopped as soon as I fell asleep.I checked the bedside clock.Almost six o’clock.I’d been down for the better part of the afternoon.I’d never sleep tonight.

My bladder made itself known, and I slipped into the bathroom.After pissing, I washed my hands and inspected myself in the mirror.I didn’t shave, but I kept my beard short.I scratched my cheeks.Time for a trim.

This weekend.

God, we weren’t even halfway through the week.Initially I planned to be open seven days a week, but that was crazy.I might not have a social life, but I needed downtime.Weekends were busy in Mission City, so I figured I’d close Mondays.If I was able to hire this Darlene woman, she could work that day, and if I was needed, she could call me if an emergency repair came in.

I ran my hand through my overlong hair, pulled it into a thong, and headed into the living room.

And, for the second time today, came up short.

Dickens was unpacking the most-heavenly smelling food and sorting it onto plates.Something alerted him to my presence, and he looked up.“Oh, good.I didn’t want to wake you, but I would have.You’ll never sleep tonight.I got Chinese from the place across the way.”

I’d eyed the restaurant several times but figured buying for one was a waste.But sharing for two?Much more logical.

“I should pay.”Only fair, given he’d forgone a day of work to take care of my sorry ass.

“You can get it the next time.”

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