Timo pulled a face.“Massive disappointment.”
Noah laughed.“I want to see one of those ’90s dubbed movies.”
“I’m sure we can find you one.”Timo’s good spirits seemed to have been restored after the age insult.“Speaking of childhood cinema, do you have a favourite memory?”
“That’s easy.Christmas at my grandparents’ house in Fairbanks when I was a kid.That was the big city to me.Hardly any daylight hours, wood-burning stove, Grin’s stories about wild animals and strange lands I longed to see by the glow of the Christmas tree, sugary cereals and junk food I was never allowed at home, fitting together jigsaw puzzles, opening presents in flannel pyjamas, drinking hot chocolate with candy canes to stir in pink marshmallows.”Noah stopped, staring at nothing, lost in visions and scents of pine and peppermint, feelings of safety and home.
After a hush, Timo said, “Grin?”
“Huh?”Noah glanced up, blinked, flushed.What was happening to him?He’d totally forgotten who he was talking to.Too much wine.“My maternal grandparents.When I was little, they tried to teach me to say Gran and Gramps, but I mangled it into Gram and Grin.So my grandfather was always Grin to the family after that.”
“Your whole family is from Alaska?”
“Mother’s side only.My dad is an oil engineer from Wyoming.But Wyoming wasn’t big enough or wild enough for him.He worked on the pipeline while I was growing up.”
“Tell me about them.”Timo reached out with the bottle but Noah pulled his glass away.
“I’ve had enough.”Noah chewed his lip.Here was his chance to say what he’d been thinking of saying to Timo about his family if he had to, if it came to that.Suddenly, he wanted to tell Timo, to justify himself.Also, to never tell Timo because it was a lie.Or, rather, it was a surface truth.A close-enough truth.
What if he told Timo the real truth?The truth he’d never told anyone?
No.
“I …” Noah took a breath, squeezed his hands together in his lap, sat back, looked away.“I, uh… What I told you —”
“Is this about you not being gay?”Timo asked mildly.
Noah gazed into his empty glass, wishing it was full.
“When I was thirteen, my mom left my dad for another woman.”
“Good for her.”
Noah glanced at him.
“Sorry?Wrong thing to say?”
“Well, it kind of trashed my life at that age.Not that she didn’t deserve to live her own life too, but just about everyone we knew turned on her and Sarah.My dad was the worst of all.I came under attack at school from a score of homophobic bullies.That stress made my stutter worse, which in turn increased the bullying.And so on … I’ve never been out.Not after I lived through that fallout as a young teen.I know I’m in a metropolis now.I know I should be, and all that’s behind me and my family is a world away.It’s just … It’s still hard.”
“You’re certainly out now, like it or not.”
Noah glanced at him.“After what I just said?”
Timo frowned.“After moving in here.Everyone at work thinks we’re sleeping together.”
“Oh, that.Funny, but I haven’t heard a single whisper to that effect.In fact, when I walk to my desk or into the kitchen lately everyone smiles and goes quiet or talks about their trades.”
“Shouldn’t they be smiling and talking about trades?I do like to provide a good working environment.”
“No, you like to yell at people and tell them that if they were being paid by the brain cell they wouldn’t earn enough in a year to get dinner out of a vending machine.”
“Have I said that?”Timo appeared genuinely surprised.
“Or fire people on the spot who have lost you money several days in a row even though they might have made good traders if you’d given them a fair chance.”
“The world’s not made of chances, Noah.It’s made of opportunities that are waiting to be captured by the man out front after the flag drops.”
“You’ve told them to leave me alone, haven’t you?”