Chapter Twenty-seven

Rick! Keller! Francesca! All together, sometimes even in the same room. To Pax, it feels like all the uneven places in his life have smoothed out. It’s as if everything that had gone before was leading to this. Early life with Rick. The Rick-less time with Francesca. The exciting time with Keller when he had a job with commands instead of a job, like now, where he is allowed to perform tasks of his own invention. He is busy all the time. Mostly, he keeps Rick company. This isn’t the Rick of old; this is a sedentary Rick. He never throws balls or sticks or leashes him to run along the streets. He no longer takes him to the park, or along the Charles River to walk for miles and miles. If Rick no longer requires active company, he more than requires inactive companionship. Pax gives himself over to this new dynamic. As long as he is nearby, within reach of Rick’s hand, he is on duty. If Rick is in his bed, Pax lies alongside him, even when Francesca makes him get down. If Rick is in his chair, Pax sits with him. He waits while Rick goes into that place where he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, breathing only shallowly. Pax has figured out that if he nudges Rick, or drops a heavy paw on his lap, Rick will emerge from this fugue state. Good boy. Job well done.

It might have been a joy to have both of his men in the same room, but there is this thread of tension that corrupts the perfection of it. He goes from one to the other, as if to tell them that he isn’t divided between them, but is holding them together. But they don’t understand. Francesca doesn’t understand, either, and sometimes all Pax wants is to leave all three of them behind and spend a solitary hour in the backyard, waiting for the squirrel that lives in the cherry tree to come within reach.

At night, without orders, Pax divides his time unequally, finding Keller a better bunk mate. After all, they had kept each other warm during those long, harsh months of cold and commotion. Sleeping outside or under the precarious shelter of broken buildings; huddled together with backs against stone walls. Keller’s body spooning his, each taking a turn enjoying deep sleep.

Not once has Keller ever ordered him aside for a mate, locking him out of their shared sleeping quarters, like Rick has. Even though Rick and Francesca now sleep in separate places, Pax still prefers his wartime buddy’s warmth to stretching out beside either of the other two. Not that Francesca would ever let him on her bed.

But, on occasion, Pax leaves Keller, his acute ears hearing some small anguish coming from Rick. Then he goes back to Rick’s room, places his cold nose against his first man’s cheek, and waits for the grasp of his unsteady hand to tell Pax that he is helping. That he is doing a good job.