Page 11 of Regret Me Not
“I’m not—” Pierce yawned. “Dammit!”
“Yeah, well, I really did work you hard.” Hal bit his lip in an expression that was starting to look more and more vulnerable. “Thanks for letting me. Like I said, tomorrow we’ll do something lighter, and we can go shopping.”
“That’s sounds….” Oh wait. Shopping. And it was getting close to Christmas! “Hey—can we get more than rubber mats and a chair?”
Hal crossed his expressive brown eyes. “No, then I’ll have to dump your ass at the store. Why, what did you have in mind?”
“Well, you know. Christmas is coming. I’d like to sort of spoil my sister’s family a little. She’s got kids. They’re not bad. Maybe get her an espresso machine or something. She and her husband power up with Mr. Coffee—it’s horrible.”
“So, rubber mats, Legos, Barbies, and a Keurig? It’s a good thing I’ve got a CR-V—if I’d gone for the Tesla I’d wanted, you’d be fucked.”
Pierce blushed, feeling exploitive. “I’m sorry—you know, we don’t have to do that. I can order their stuff from here—it’ll even show up gift-wrapped—”
“No,” Hal said, like he was surprised the idea pleased him too. “Don’t do that. I mean, even if we don’t get to everything tomorrow, it will… it will give us a quest.” His full and beaming smile emerged, the one that made Pierce think he was an invincible unicorn. “Even if we are thwarted in our first sally, Sir Knight, we shall continue to assail the indomitable fortress of consumerism until we have achieved… uh, gift-tasticness?”
Pierce shrugged. “Or redemption. You know, either-or?”
“Redemption?” Pierce could practically see Hal’s antennae rise up. “For what?”
Pierce stood and managed the trek across the tile to the coffee table. He didn’t want to talk about it—not today, when they’d discovered some neutral ground.
“I thought we were watching cartoons,” he said gently.
“Yeah.” Hal swallowed, and his smile dimmed. “You’re right. Cartoons—we need to figure out which season it is.”
Pierce made himself comfortable and welcomed the sandwich and glass of milk when Hal walked it over. They watched cartoons for the next hour, laughing like children at the basic slapstick humor. As Pierce dozed off, slumping sideways onto the pillows of the couch, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that young.
He woke up to late-afternoon shadows, cuddled under a throw in a chilly, empty apartment. The sound of the sea washed hypnotically through his bones like it did every minute of every day here. A note sat on the marble coffee table in front of him.
Thanks for the company—I’ll give you a Hal break tonight, but see you bright and early tomorrow.
—H
Pierce sat up, feeling unexpectedly refreshed, and pondered the note.
A Hal break? Who said he needed a break from Hal? He was starting to sort of like Hal. Why would he want a break?
He shivered and stood up, dislodging the chenille throw as he went to turn on the lights in the living room. He stared at the thing, trying to place where it had come from, and then he realized—
Derrick kept his spare blankets in the linen closet between the bathroom and the bedroom. Hal had needed to go looking for that. He’d done it on purpose, to make sure Pierce was comfortable, after he’d made Pierce a meal and entertained him.
Pierce couldn’t stop looking at the throw as it lay crumpled on the floor.
What season was it?
It was denial season.
HE GOTup eventually and made himself a can of soup and then settled back down in front of the television, remote in hand. His phone buzzed, the sound so alien of late that he barely recognized it before he remembered to pick up.
“Derrick?”
“Are you dead?”
“Oh God. No.” Pierce sat up from his sprawl and stretched carefully. “I’m sorry—I got here two days ago. I should have called.”
“Yeah, well, I was in a turkey coma until yesterday, so you’re doing okay. How are you?”
Pierce grunted. “Better,” he confessed. Derrick knew why he’d come here—had been the one to calm him down after Pierce had blown up at Sasha. Derrick had told him then that it wasn’t unforgivable, but Pierce—he still felt the shame down in his gut.
