Page 52 of Catch of a Lifetime
“Morning.” He stumped over, dropped himself into a chair, and looked at me expectantly.
I paused with the coffee cup halfway to my lips. “You know where the kettle is. If you have a key, you’re not a guest. You can make your own cup of tea.”
He heaved back up to his feet and went over to the sink to fill the kettle. “Someone woke up on the sassy side of the bed this morning.”
I ignored him and sipped my coffee.
I’d been surprised but not upset to wake up and find Dave gone. I thought that he’d have stuck around, it being our first big reunion-sex romp and all. Then I’d come downstairs to find thefridge door hanging open and all the tubs of prepared fish I kept in there gone. I spotted the tubs in the garden later, lids off and empty.
I decided that it was safe to assume that his appetite was still at a full burn, and he’d headed off for more hunting and mayhem.
Jerry brought his tea over to the table, taking a giant swig en route, and sat down with his usual lack of grace.
Sometimes, I thought that this was what it would be like to be married or in a committed, long-term relationship with another human.
Some guy shows up at your kitchen table morning after morning.
You both sit there in contemplative silence, waiting for your brains to come online and your days to start.
Maybe one of you is reading the paper.
Maybe someone snitches someone else’s uneaten piece of toast from his plate, even though hejustcame from his own breakfast table with his actual wife.
Sometimes, on moments such as this, the wordqueerplatonicdrifted through my mind.
I made sure to let it keep on drifting, all the way through my mind and out the door.
My life was already complicated enough, thanks, what with being in a relationship with a merman. I didn’t need to add a sixtysomething straight fisherman to the shitshow and call it a throuple.
Jerry finished my toast, drained his tea, and checked the weather app on his phone. I didn’t know why he bothered. The man was a walking barometer. He’d spent his life watching the local weather and knew far more than any app could. He tutted at whatever the phone told him, glanced over my shoulder andout of the kitchen window, and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.
His assessing gaze landed on my face and held as he came to a another sort of conclusion.
He grinned. “Ohhhhhh,” he said.
I lifted my cup and pretended to drink my already-finished coffee. It was a feeble and transparent attempt to hide my smile.
“Dave finally showed up, did he?”
My cheeks heated. “Yes.”
“Stop hiding behind that, you pillock, we both know it’s empty.” Leaning over the table, Jerry pushed the cup out of the way. “Is he all right? All healed up?”
“Yes. He’s got some scars, but…yes. He’s fine.”
Jerry blinked at my enormous smile, and his face softened. “That’s good, Joe. Happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“You can stop moping around and start having a proper summer now. Back on track!”
I nodded in agreement but couldn’t stop my smile from fading.
Jerry eyed me warily. “That didn’t last long.”
I sighed. “Do you remember the first year he left?”
“Yup.”
