Page 18 of Seamus's Basement
“I spend my days in a basement. I have no sense of when it’s hot or cold and I don’t remember the sun,” Seamus said, only partially kidding.
“At least it’s a nice basement with a big screen TV you get to control.”
“Clearly, you haven't spent as much time as I have with drunk people. I control very little. Unless live sports are on, I’ve started playing game shows. Nobody actually likes them, but everyone seems to find them equally tolerable, so they don’t fight.”
Laughing, DJ got a couple of glasses from the cabinet, added ice from the freezer, and then filled them from the filtered water spout next to the sink. He looked so at home that Seamus considered asking him to move in. There was plenty of space for them both, and if he lived with him, DJ wouldn’t have to payrent and he could work less. He could relax and they’d be able to spend more time together.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to raise the topic. He had gotten to know DJ pretty well over the past couple of months, and while he was laid back and kind, he also had a fair bit of pride. There was no missing how hard he worked, which was too hard, and yet he deftly avoided any of Seamus’s suggestions that he slow down. The reason he worked so much had to be financial, but he never asked him for help, and since he hadn’t heard anything about it from his family, he suspected DJ didn’t ask his sister either. When he tried to remember details of what DJ’s friends had said about him at the bar months earlier, he thought they’d also been confused about why he needed to work so much. But there was no way to talk about finances or work hours without DJ sidestepping the topic.
“Do you want a beer?” DJ asked, making Seamus realize he had been standing in his own home watching DJ get their meal together without helping.
“Thanks for doing all that.” He was already caught up in his head. Drinking probably wasn’t a good idea. “I think I’ll surprise my liver and stick with water.”
Still smiling, DJ walked over to the coffee table and set their glasses and napkins down. “How many slices do you want?” he said as he returned to the counter.
“I can get it.” Seamus stepped forward.
“I'm already here.” Pizza box lid in his hand, DJ looked at him expectantly.
“Two. Thanks, DJ.”
He put slices on both of their plates and then took his usual spot on the armchair. “Mmm.” He chewed and swallowed his first bite. “You’d think I’d get tired of pizza after eating it most nights, but I still love it.”
“Why do you eat so much pizza?”
“Brent lets us eat for free after our shifts.”
“That’s really generous of him.” And it was an opening for Seamus to ask if DJ needed help.
“He’s great. Tanner is too. Everyone gets free meals at Jesse’s. And Brewster doesn’t mind if we have coffee and we can eat any of the pastries that haven’t sold by closing. I’m really lucky to work for such wonderful people.”
So he didn't spend money on food because he ate while he was working his three jobs. What exactly was going on with his husband’s finances?
“DJ, is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?” he said, still looking light and happy, which meant he didn’t understand the question.
Knowing he was going to dampen the mood, but needing to address the situation, he drew in a deep breath and said, “With money, is everything okay? You work so much.”
“Oh.” The genuine smile was replaced with the one he used when he was avoiding the issue. “I’m good. Don’t worry.” He stood. “Do you want more pizza?” He looked down at Seamus’s plate. “You haven’t eaten. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” He really didn’t want to ruin their night. DJ had so little downtime, he deserved to enjoy it. “Sullie sent me a card game that he said we’d like. He said it’s popular for newlyweds in Claddagh.”
“We’re probably different from other Claddagh newlyweds, but sure.”
His genuine grin was back, and his eyes were sparkling, confirming to Seamus that he was right to postpone the difficult conversation for another time. Besides, that would give him time to come up with the right thing to say. He wished he could ask someone for advice, but he didn’t want to embarrass DJ by talking about his personal problems with people in Hope and there would be no way to bring the issue up with his brothersor his parents because DJ was his husband, which meant they assumed DJ was living with him and that, if he needed money, Seamus would provide for him.
“Do you want to start on the cards while we eat?” Seamus asked.
“Okay. How does the game work?”
Seamus picked up the box from the end table and opened it. “Um, from what I can tell, there’s a bunch of questions in different categories. We take turns rolling the die and the other person asks a question from whatever category we landed on.”
“I’m not sure I understand how that’s a game but I’m into it. What are the categories?” DJ came back to his chair, another slice of pizza on his plate.
“Let’s see.” He looked at the back of the box. “Blue is work. Red is hobbies. Purple is goals. Green is history. Orange is beliefs. And yellow is sex.”
The first category was work. Maybe he’d get lucky and the game would ask the questions he couldn’t. Surely DJ couldn’t change the topic if a roll of the die chose it. Hopefully he wouldn’t refuse to play now that he knew he’d have to answer work-related questions.
