Page 25 of Blue Umbrella Sky
At least that’s what Milt told himself when he’d catch Billy in a moon-eyed stare at him. Or when Billy would let his hand linger a little too long on Milt’s leg at the movies together. Or when they’d kiss hello or goodbye and Billy made it obvious he’d like the buss to linger longer than one between friends.
But it seemed all Milt could see, in moments like those, was Corky’s face, that sweet face, all innocent and full of trust and wonder. It would make any appreciation or ardor Milt felt for Billy fade like a rainbow after a summer storm.
He couldn’t handle the guilt.
As though thoughts had the power to summon up a reality—and Milt sometimes believed they did—there was a small knock at the door, which caused Ruby to grumble and hop down from the couch. She padded over to the door, tail wagging, expectant.
Milt, echoing his dog, hopped down from his stool. The back door’s frosted glass panel revealed little more than a human shape waiting out there.
Milt opened it, and a surprisingly chilly draft rushed in.
And Ruby rushed out. Her second-favorite human, Billy, was there, looking fetching in a sky-blue hoodie and jeans, holding a foil-covered casserole dish. Ruby danced circles around Billy, jumping on him and making softyips.
“Ruby! Get off him.” Milt laughed and opened the door wider. “C’mon in.”
Billy edged by him, smelling clean—cold air and sage. He set the casserole down on the counter and squatted to scratch Ruby behind the ears.
He looked up at Milt and smiled. “I brought you breakfast.”
Milt shut the door and moved over to the counter. “That’s so sweet of you. I was just about to toast an english muffin.”
Billy shook his head and stood. “This is much better. And better for you.”
“Can I peek?” Milt didn’t wait for an answer. He lifted an edge of foil and peered inside. Steam rose up. Yellow egg, dotted with green. The smell was amazing: peppers and onion, maybe even a whiff of some tangy cheese.
“It’s my standard breakfast bake—beaten eggs with cheddar, green onions, and Anaheim peppers. It’s really tasty, if I may say so. It was so cold out this morning, almost freezing, which is rare in these parts, that I thought you might appreciate a hot breakfast.”
“I do. I really do. Especially when you consider my standard fare is, well, toast.”
They stood awkwardly for a few moments, grinning at each other. Rosemary Clooney, in the background, was telling someone to come on-a her house.
“So, you’ll stay for breakfast, right?” Milt glanced over at the press to make sure there was enough coffee left for a guest.
“Considering I made it, I better say yes. Otherwise you might think I poisoned you.”
Milt took down plates and pulled out silverware and set them up at the breakfast bar. He handed Billy a knife. “You want to cut?”
Once they were settled with big squares of what Billy called egg bake in front of them, Milt told Billy what he’d done that morning with the mugs.
“It’s funny how stuff like that comes up and nips at you, out of the blue. And it’s surprising how much it hurts.” Milt took his first bite of the casserole. “Man, that’s really good.”
“Thanks. It’s better with a little salsa on top. You got any?”
Milt shook his head. “I got ketchup.”
Billy shuddered. “If you put ketchup on this, I’m out the door.”
“Okay.” Milt threw up his hands. “Mr. Gourmet.”
“Milt, turning away an offer of ketchup in relation to eggs hardly makes me a gourmet. It makes me human with a few taste buds. Putting ketchup on this casserole would be like somebody in Chicago going to the Weiners Circle on Clark and asking for ketchup on a hot dog. Dude, in the Windy City, people get shot for less. Literally.”
“No ketchup, then,” Milt said softly, chewing.
They ate in silence, Ruby watching them, ever hopeful that something might accidentally-on-purpose drop to the floor.
“Coffee’s good.” Billy raised his mug.
“I can make another pot.”
