Page 16 of Blue Umbrella Sky
If Trixie was wise to the tension hanging just above the surface of the table—Billy visualized it as a noxious black cloud—she didn’t say anything. Her smile didn’t even waver. When neither asked for hot sauce, card tricks, or for Trixie to stand on her head, she left.
Billy got busy drowning his pancakes in syrup, knowing he’d need to ask for more. Sugar, in any form, was one indulgence he allowed himself these days. He wasn’t sure he actually heard Milt speak when he did, or if his mind was playing wishful thinking tricks on him.
“It’s a fair question.”
Billy looked up and met Milt’s gaze. Milt was busy buttering his toast. When he glanced up, he smiled at Billy. “Yeah, fair. You live right behind me, probably have been seeing me every day. It’s only natural to wonder.”
Yeah. I noticed you from the very start. I wanted to get to know you—badly. I hoped and hoped and hoped for—one, a sign that you were gay, and two, a sign that you might be interested in me. I was disappointed every single fucking time.
Milt went on. “And you’re right, hard as it is for me to hear it. Most folks, when they land in a new place, want to meet the people who live around them. They want to get to know their neighbors. It’s normal. And maybe I’m one of those folks who’s just not—normal.” He snickered. “Ha! If you only knew….”
Billy still felt bad. “You shouldn’t feel any need to explain yourself to me.”
Milt chewed, swallowed. “And yet I do. Feel compelled. I want you to know me. I want to know you. So yeah, I haven’t been the most outgoing neighbor. I haven’t wanted to reach out. To paraphrase Greta Garbo, I wanted to be alone.”
Milt looked away for a moment. “Corky dying shook me to my core.”
Billy couldn’t help it. He felt a paradoxical mix of sympathy and a baser instinct, one he wasn’t proud of—jealousy. Just a twinge, but it was there. He tried to swallow the lower of his two impulses. He reached out and covered Milt’s hand with his own, forced Milt to meet his gaze.
After a moment Milt looked away, moved his hand, and got busy with his food. As he cut up his eggs and then mixed them in with the hash, he talked. “Corky was gone, in a way, long before that final hour when he drew his last breath. Alzheimer’s is rough—especially on the ones who are left to pick up the pieces. It sounds awful to say this, but Corky was pretty much unaware of any pain or embarrassment toward the end. He was too out of it. In his own little world. But I suffered. I remembered my strong man. The guy who did theNew York Timescrossword puzzle in ink on a Sunday morning. The one who could make me feel safe from any ill the world had to offer just by wrapping his arms around me.”
Billy felt the twinge of jealousy again, like something cutting into his heart. He hated himself for it, because here was a fellow human being taking a chance and pouring out his grief, and he was making it all about himself. Still, jealousy wasn’t an emotion one controlled, and it certainly wasn’t something that had any logic. By its very nature, jealousy was selfish.
“That’s so sweet. You must have a big heart, Milt.”
Milt waved the compliment away. “Bigger than the Grinch’s, anyway. Before it grew. But I’d actually like to think my heart’s the same size as everyone else’s. I’d like to think everything I did for the man I love is what anyone would do if they were in my shoes and really cared about the person they shared their lives with.” Milt looked up from his food and at Billy. “Wouldn’t you?”
The question caught him off guard. Would he? He’d like to think that of course he would. Most of us want to believe that when the chips were down, we’d rise up to be our highest and best selves. But Billy suddenly felt very young. He hadn’t been called upon to take care of someone else as Milt had.
“I’d like to believe I would,” Billy said, and he confessed to Milt that he’d never been put in a position where he was responsible for someone’s life.
Milt cocked his head. “Not even your own?”
Wow.Billy thought for a moment. It seemed to be his morning for being caught short by personal questions. All he’d wanted to do was introduce his neighbor to a place he thought was cool. Himself? The question actually chilled him more than the air-conditioning in this joint, which was working its figurative fingers to the bone to beat the three-digit temperature outside. Billy said quietly, “Yeah. There’s a history of that. But I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Why’s it so hard to get to know another human being? Why do we have to make ourselves so vulnerable? Why can’t we just skip ahead to something warm and comfortable like a pair of old fleece-lined slippers?God make me patient—right now.Billy snorted with laughter at his last thought.
“What?”
“Nothin’. Tell me about Corky.”
And Milt did. He went on and on, regaling Billy with how they’d met—in a bar when they were both on vacation in Chicago. A leather bar, of all things, that wasn’t there anymore, called the Cell Block, on Halsted. His face reddened as he spoke about their first meeting, and Billy caught on that was because they’d hooked up in the bar’s dark back room. For shame! He talked about their love of travel, how Kauai was a favorite Hawaiian island, how they both adored Rome over almost any other place on the planet, how they never got to see their dream of an Alaskan cruise realized. He told of lazy nights making spaghetti, of summer days sunning on the pebbled banks of the Ohio River, of birthdays and Christmases together, of their shared desire for a kid that never came true, despite a real attempt to adopt. And logically, of the parade of much-loved and spoiled mutts that passed through their lives over the years.
Billy was touched by the memories. He both wanted and didn’t want to hear more. How could he ever live up to the legacy Milt’s husband had left? Why was he even thinking of living up to it when Milt hadn’t given him even the smallest clue he wanted him to? He couldn’t help himself from asking, “Do you think you’ll ever love again?”
Milt rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re asking me this?” He didn’t seem angry or even offended by what Billy swiftly knew was an insensitive question.
Milt shrugged and then said something that caused Billy’s heart to drop. “Nah. Once you’ve had a great love like I did with Corky, how can you think of someone else? He’s all I ever wanted.” He smiled at Billy, and there was something winsome and young in the smile. It made Billy think of a little boy—and that image, he thought, was one that really made him fear he was truly falling for this guy. “And he’s all I ever will want.”
Billy nodded slowly.I wish you hadn’t said that. I wish you’d given me just a little kernel of hope.“Well,” Billy said, sighing. “We should be getting back. See what the damages are at your place, what you’ll need to get yourself fixed back up.” At some point during their conversation, Trixie had put their check on the table. Myron’s was the kind of place where you took the check to the register as you were leaving. Billy snatched it up. He shook his head when Milt reached for his wallet. “Put that away. It’s on me.”
Milt frowned. “Come on! I owe you—for all you’ve done for me. Let me pay.” He leaned forward to try to snatch the check out of Billy’s hand.
Billy pulled back, grinning. “No way. My treat.” He winked. “You can pay next time.”
Just as Billy stood, Milt reached out a hand to stop him. “Sit down for a second. I want to say something else.”
Billy sat, expectant. “Yeah?”
