When Tyler finally comes down to work, in the nick of time before someone comes in, his limbs are still coltish.
“You could have slept longer,” Asher says.
“Mmm-mmm,” Tyler mumbles. His eyes are closed as he inhales the scent of his coffee. “People have enough gossip about us for a while.”
“What?” Asher drops his pen. Tyler’s eyes pop open.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to tell you that.”
“Um, what?” Asher asks again. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t be mad.” Tyler’s eyes are open now. He slides down the counter and nudges Asher’s knee with his. “It’s restaurant gossip. You know how it is.”
“This is not a good thing, Tyler!”
Tyler squares his shoulders. “So, what, are you ashamed of this?”
“Oh my god, no,” Asher says. He runs his fingers through his hair. Instinctively Tyler reaches to smooth it for him. “I… I don’t want to undermine my authority or reputation with them.”
“Asher, they love you. They love working here. They know you’re a human being.”
“You don’t understand, Ty. Last time I lost my staff’s respect and almost lost—”
“Asher, it’s not the same. I promise. Come on, you know these people.”
Asher turns away.
“Asher, is this about something else?” Tyler asks. Now is not the time to reveal his insecurities, much less doubts, about what’s happening. It’s too early—with them and also in the morning.
“No. I don’t know. Nothing to do with you,” Asher says. “This is… an adjustment. All of it.”
Tyler is quiet while he tries to make sense of the faint anxiety buzzing through him; last night, caught up in Asher’s touch and confidence, Tyler had left it behind. He puts his coffee down. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.
Asher smiles, takes his hand and tugs him down. “Of course.”
Tyler swallows his qualms and lets himself relax into Asher’s body. He’s steady, so steady, and warm. He exudes a kindness and care Tyler knows has been unlocked for him only. Asher’s true self is so different from how he presents himself. Tyler revels in knowing this.
They kiss, careful of each other, but sweet and slow, for long minutes. Asher pulls away every few kisses; he looks into Tyler’s eyes as if trying to read something there. He kisses behind Tyler’s ear; it’s affection without intent to escalate. The office is small, but what they have is big, bigger than he can figure out. This room though, more than any other place, is a space just for them. A little haven. It’s ridiculous. It’s ugly and cramped, and, when Tyler’s too busy to nag and sort the various messes of papers, it’s awful.
But when Asher’s hands dig into his waist and he breathes in little gasps against Tyler’s mouth, that’s the only thing that matters.
* * *
They don’t address the staff knowing again, although they both take pains to be more discreet. They don’t talk about what they’re doing or what it means, even though Tyler spends more nights at Asher’s than his own apartment. Even when he’s not working, he’s often at Asher’s.
It’s Wednesday a few weeks later when Asher clomps up the stairs after a long shift. Tyler can tell by his tread he’s exhausted. “You don’t have any books,” is the first thing he says to Asher when he joins him.
“Excellent observational skills.”
Tyler is sprawled on the couch, leaving no room for Asher. Asher hovers; Tyler sits up, then spreads his legs a bit and tugs him down until he’s between them, spooned back to stomach. Tyler wraps his arms around Asher and encourages him to lean back. When Asher does, the acquiescence of some small bit of control, leaning on Tyler when he usually is the one doing the holding, is a small victory.
Tyler clears his throat. “Why don’t you have books?”
“When would I read?”
“I don’t know. Before going to bed? On your brand new days off when you can leave the building but never seem to?”
Asher chuckles. He tips back against Tyler’s shoulder and shifts until he’s able to see the TV while reclining. “That’s what HGTV is for.”
“Really?” Tyler resists the urge to kiss the side of Asher’s head.
“Yeah?” Asher says. “Is that not usual? Plenty of people fall asleep watching TV.”
“I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never had a TV in my room before.”
Asher is quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry if—”
“Oh my god, don’t apologize.” Tyler squeezes him. “It’s okay.”
Asher sits. “Is it though?”
“Listen,” Tyler says, then sighs. “I know you don’t mean anything by it. Or maybe you don’t get it. But you grew up rich. And you assume that me not having particular material things have to do with money, right?”
“I wouldn’t say it that way.”
Tyler sighs and swallows his irritation.
“That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?” Asher seems serious and attentive.
“Well, it kind of was beside the point.” Tyler struggles to find the words for what he’s feeling. Asher takes his hand, and Tyler wonders if he realizes he’s done it.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “Sometimes…”
“Sometimes?” Asher says, and wiggles his hand a little.
“I’m not an angry person,” Tyler starts. “It never seemed productive.”
“Okay?”
“But sometimes it’s hard. There’s this feeling inside that I get when I see how lopsided the world is. And how differently people see it.”
“I see it differently because of my upbringing?”
“Yes and no,” Tyler says. “There is a whole world of people who don’t have to explain themselves. Where a normal exists that they never have to question. Where the absence of normal or of things they take for granted has a particular meaning. All these people who never think about the color of their skin. They walk around as if it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t have to.”
“There was a lot in there,” Asher says. “I want to be sure I’m following.”
“Our worlds are different. And money is a part of it. You grew up with enough that you take things for granted. But for a lot of people this ‘normal’ equals the automatic assumption that not having means deficit. Maybe I don’t want to have a TV, Asher. Maybe a cigar is just a cigar.”
“I’m sorry,” Asher says. His fingers are tight around Tyler’s, and he sounds a little helpless and lost.
“I’m not mad at you. It’s how the world is. I can’t tell you how many people I meet who assume that growing up in Detroit and being black means I’m poor, or uneducated, or all the other things people think. I guess it’s not fair to judge your normal by mine if I don’t want you to judge my normal by yours.”
“No, but you’re not judging, are you?” Asher prompts. “You’re explaining.”
“Yeah. I just… I think sometimes people take their privileges for granted and as the truth.”
Tyler lets his own words sink in. He’s never tried to say these things. Malik was always the one fighting with his words. But that doesn’t mean Tyler wasn’t paying attention, or that he didn’t grow up experiencing these things. His path was different from Malik’s, but it was hard too.
“There’s more than one truth, Asher,” he says finally.
“I know that,” Asher says. It seems only a little defensive.
“You know it, but do you know it?” Tyler laughs at himself. “Never mind, I’m not making sense.”
“No, you are. I think.” Asher ducks his head to meet Tyler’s eyes. “Tyler, I don’t want you to think I am saying this because I’m not hearing you. I am. I grew up in a largely Jewish community, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced anti-Semitism. I am not equating this to what you are saying. I’d never thought about it the way you’ve put it. But I do know that there are multiple truths. I just need to work harder at seeing them all.” His smile is a little unsure and a lot kind, and Tyler can’t help the way he surges toward him, into a kiss. “Thank you. For talking to me about this. And for being patient.”
“What are you doing Friday?” Tyler asks a week later.
“Working?”
“Asher, remember we talked about this. Assistant managers? Claudia?”
“Wait, did I schedule her?”
“Yes,” Tyler says with forced patience. Asher squirms.
“Okay, well, then, I’m not doing anything. Because I never do.” Asher’s laugh is self-deprecating.
“Well, I can help with that. I thought maybe you’d want to go on a little field trip with me.”
“Is this one of your ‘part of your world’ things?” Asher asks, and Tyler smiles.
“Yes. Without the mermaid Disney parts.”
“Damn, I really wanted that.”
“Oh my god, are you making jokes? Hold on, I have to call the Freep,” Tyler jokes, referring to one of Detroit’s remaining print newspapers, the Free Press.
“No newspapers.” Asher is laughing now. “Keep it under wraps for a bit. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Well, your super-boring rep aside,” Tyler says, enjoying the way Asher’s cheeks are flushed with laughter, “I haven’t had much time of my own, but maybe you’ll come with me to Affirmations? They have tons of stuff for volunteers to do.” He doesn’t add that he thinks it’ll do Asher good to have activities that don’t involve the restaurant.
“Yeah.” Asher’s face shows genuine interest. “As long as you think it’d be okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Tyler asks. “Haven’t you ever been there? You lived in Royal Oak, right?”
“I don’t know why I haven’t gone. I didn’t know about it as a teenager, and we only lived in Royal Oak after we opened the restaurant. I guess I’ve always been too busy.”
“Well, it’s amazing. Sometimes I think they saved my life. They have an incredible workforce development program to help kids get ready for jobs. Well, they have lots of stuff. Trust me, you will be welcome. You’re coming with me Friday.”
Asher rolls over, bumping over the uneven tile kisses his cheek.
“Can’t wait.”