Page 142 of Rhymes with Metaphor
Featured in the window of Chez Livres was the latest release from said author.Reg went in and was greeted with warm air and the smell of apple strudel and reasonably good coffee.He was on the point of buying the book, as it would be a perfect Christmas gift he and Martin could dismember over a bottle of Cognac, when he remembered he and Martin were no longer speaking.Almost four months of silence, and the realization still jarred him.
He bought the book anyway.Hope springs eternal or infernal or whatever it did.He refused to believe Martin was permanently out of his life.He looked wistfully at the comfy chairs by the window where he and Martin would sit on many an afternoon talking, laughing, and sometimes writing, separately but together.He left the shop.
It was snowing.Fat, clumped flakes dropped out of the grey sky, like empty care packages.
He didn’t want to spend the afternoon in the loft alone, so he got his car out and went for a drive.The snow was falling faster than the ploughs could clear it, which forced him to drive painfully slowly.Whether it was impulse or habit, he found himself at Martin’s house.Martin’s car wasn’t in the drive, and the lights were off, but Reg parked, went to the front door, and knocked.
No one answered.He had a key, but he felt that letting himself in would be impolitic.He went back to the car and got the gift-wrapped book.The cashier had put it in a gift bag with one of their cards, so Reg rifled in the glove compartment until he found a pencil, and he wrote on the back of the card,Saw this.Thought of you.Merry Christmas.R.He put it in the mailbox beside the door.
While he was driving back to the loft, his phone vibrated in his pocket.He pulled over, fishtailing the car, and flailed the phone out, thinking it was Martin.
It wasn’t.It was Joel, sounding tentative and uncertain.
“Do you want to have dinner with me, Reg?”
“All right,” said Reg.“I’m out at the moment.Where are you?”
“At the Old Mill.Can you meet me there?”
It wasn’t too far from where Reg currently was.“Yes.I’ll see you soon.”
Reg parked the car, feeling circumspect.Joel was waiting for him outside the entrance to the Old Mill, looking nervous.
“Hello,” said Joel.“Did you have a nice day?”He sounded so shy and formal, it threw Reg.
“It was fine, thanks,” said Reg, remembering his little errand to Martin’s house and feeling guilty.
Joel took Reg’s hand as they went in.Warm air greeted them, along with the smell of food.The place was dimly lit, but a Christmas tree stood in the corner, garlanded in silver and lit with bright gold bulbs.As it was early, they didn’t have to wait long for a table and were shown to a quiet one in the corner by a window.
Joel removed Reg’s coat for him and hung it over his chair.
“I’m paying,” said Joel.
Reg sat.“You don’t need to, cariad.”
“You’ve taken me out a lot,” said Joel.“I want to treat you for once.”
They ordered, and Joel chose the wine.
When the server left the table, Reg said, “I’m impressed.I must be rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe later,” said Joel and gave an odd little giggle, seeming years younger than he was.
Reg hadn’t eaten anything, apart from toast at breakfast, so he was ravenous.But dinner was awkward.Joel was so earnest and conciliatory, eagerly leaning across the table, asking Reg if he wanted anything every couple of minutes.
“What is it, cariad?”said Reg.“What’s on your mind?”
“Will you come with me if I spend the holiday with Juliet and my mom?”
“Do Juliet and your mother want me there?And will Martin be there?”
“What if he is?”said Joel.
“We’re not on speaking terms, so it might make things awkward.”
“Then he needs to suck it up.We’ve been together almost as long as he’s been with Juliet.”
“Well, what if he won’t ‘suck it up,’ as you say?Do you want him to spoil the holiday for everyone?”
