Fourteen

 

 

Sebastian blinks his eyes open. No Great Lawn. No Central Park. No half-moon chair. He’s definitely not in the dance studio.

“Sweetie?” Chloe waves her arms in front of his face. “Back with us, daydream believer?”

“Huh?” Sebastian notices his leg is propped up on a pillow. The bed he lies in, including the guardrail, is Milk of Magnesia white. He groans, massages the tension from his neck.

Reid gently rubs Sebastian’s shoulder. “You checked out for another siesta.”

“Damn.” Sebastian pats himself down. Thankfully he still wears his T-shirt and slacks and not a hospital gown. “I didn’t feel anything once I was out.”

“Called your pal.” Chloe places her hands in prayer position.

“Oh.” Sebastian smiles, folds his arms.

Andrew nods. “I thought you might want to be reminded to breathe sooner than Monday.”

“Why?” Sebastian asks.

“Hello?” Chloe snaps her fingers. “Your fainting spells?”

Sebastian sighs. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not.” Chloe readjusts the pillow under his leg. “This is serious, Seb.”

“Trust me.” Sebastian smiles, tips his head forward with prayer hands. “I’ve been breathing just fine on my own.”

A tall man in a lab coat enters the room. Brown skin, black hair, straight nose—he could be Sebastian’s stand-in on a movie set. He smiles, points at Sebastian’s cast. “You’re getting to be a regular, aren’t you?” he says in what sounds like an East Asian dialect. He refers to the chart he holds. “You’re a tad anemic, but otherwise the blood work’s normal. The brain scan you had on your last visit is also clear.”

“That’s wonderful.” Reid rests his palm on Sebastian’s shoulder and quickly removes it.

“But why didn’t I come to for so long?”

“Well, Mister Hart,” the doctor says, “it must be something in your genes. Some people faint harder than others, and thus fall into a deeper state.”

“Yeah, too bad I have to faint to get some hardcore sleep.”

The doctor, who can’t be more than twenty-five, smiles broadly. His teeth are as pristine white as his lab coat. “Your friends tell me you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“I guess.” Sebastian checks in with the three sets of orbs that scope him out: Reid, Chloe and Andrew. That is, four sets of eyes, he thinks, glancing at the ceiling.

The doctor hugs the chart to his chest. “Along with stress management techniques, make certain you get enough protein. That should help. You’ll live a long life. You’re good to go.”

“Great.” Reid shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thanks so much for taking good care of him.”

“I do appreciate it,” says Sebastian to the doctor, who leaves the room. He asks the warm tickle Reid’s concern brought on inside his chest to subside. “Chloe, how did you track Andrew down?” he asks.

“Duh,” Chloe says with a wave. “I’ve taken classes on and off for years at Exhale. Like I told you before, my energy’s been down lately, so I upped the classes with him.” She smiles and points to Andrew. “We’ve also met up for coffee a few times.”

“Really. How long has that been going on?” Sebastian uses his knuckles to prop himself more upright on the bed.

Chloe folds her arms across her chest. “About two months.”

“So much for confidentiality, Andrew,” Sebastian says.

“Scout’s honor,” Chloe says. “Andrew didn’t realize who I was to you at first.”

“It’s true.” Andrew pushes his glasses farther up the long slope of his nose. “But she steadily opened up about her best friend and her concern for him. When she finally revealed his name, I put two and two together.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “And this two and two equals wrong.”

“To be fair, Sebastian,” Andrew says, “in our time together this past year, you’ve rarely mentioned Chloe by name. So, it’s a simple misunderstanding.” He smiles. “Look. You’ve given her reason to worry,” he adds in a monotone bass.

Sebastian rubs the ball of heat isolated in his chest cavity. Now he understands what Andrew needs to better shrink heads, or whatever he does to help facilitate other people’s wellness. Two months? What the hell has she been saying to him all this time?

“Here’s the deal,” Chloe says, as if reading his mind. “Maybe I subconsciously wandered into his yoga class more often because I knew the anniversary of Frank’s death was coming up. And I knew I’d need backup to help you, my little love.” She caresses Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian tries to relax his jaw. It shames him that Chloe mentioned Frank in front of Reid. But the burden lifts temporarily when he pushes air from his lungs.

“Pardon me,” Reid says to the group as a chime fills the room. “Yes. I get it!” he barks into his phone.

Chloe shoots Sebastian a look. He shrugs in response.

Reid steps into the hallway. “Never. All right?” he continues from outside the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. No. Absolutely not!”

Chloe cranes her neck toward the open door. “What’s up with that?” she whispers. “His boxer briefs sound pretty twisted.”

“No idea,” Sebastian says. “Except that’s the same tone he used earlier today on the phone with someone else.”

“Look, Sebastian.” Andrew tucks his hands in the back pockets of his chinos. “I can hang out if you want to talk now.”

“That’s okay. I’m out of here soon. I’ll see you Monday. Thanks so much for checking on me.”

“Thank Chloe,” Andrew says. “She’s the one who summoned me.”

“Summoned you?” Chloe chortles and tucks her hair behind her ears. “I like having that kind of power.”

Head tilted, Andrew looks over the top of his glasses. “Well, you did.”

“Anyhoo.” Chloe sits next to Sebastian and drapes an arm over his shoulder. “I informed him”—she smiles and points to Andrew—“in no uncertain terms that I’d kick his yogi butt if he didn’t haul ass down here to check on you. Do you feel better, my little love?”

Sebastian nods. Andrew places his hands in prayer position. “Namaste,” he imparts with a bow, then offers the same to Chloe. “Namaste.”

Sebastian and Chloe reciprocate in unison: “Namaste.”

Andrew shakes Chloe’s hand before he departs. She turns to Sebastian. “Are you really okay with my knowing Andrew and taking his classes?”

“I guess. It just seems a bit much—my guru and all.”

“Guru?” Chloe clears her throat. “That’s giving him a lot of power, isn’t it? Besides, he’s told me he doesn’t like that word. He’s not a psychologist, Seb. He’s not even a licensed therapist. He’s a yoga teacher, a wellness counselor. You’ve said that yourself.”

Sebastian feels his brow drop, chews his bottom lip. “I suppose. Still, I like thinking of him as my guru. And it seems a little shady, you going behind my back to take his classes and having coffee dates.”

Chloe gently shakes his shoulders. “But we’re family. I told Andrew that. I was afraid you might try to hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself? No, no, no. I wouldn’t do anything stupid.” He squeezes her hand. “And I’m completely grateful you’re my family.”

Reid lumbers back into the room. “You’re probably ready to ditch this joint.”

“Another irritating client?” Sebastian asks.

“Something like that.” Reid scratches his chin. “I’ll fill you in another time.”

Chloe frowns. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll babysit,” Reid says.

“Steppin’ Out with My Baby.” Sebastian cups his hands over his mouth as the song plays in his head.

Chloe clucks her tongue, then jerks a thumb toward Reid. “I like this guy.” She checks her watch. “Ooh. Boss Man Gerald is probably getting antsy. I better get my ass back to the office.” She chucks Reid under the chin like he’s a toddler. “I trust you to get him home safely, a million percent.”

Reid salutes. “A million percent it is.”

“Adorable.” Chloe pats Reid’s cheek. “Yummy, yummy adorable.” She drapes her lean arm around his shoulders. “Like I said from the beginning, this guy is a real treasure, a golden ticket. Don’t you agree?”

Sebastian looks down. “Yep.”

Chloe plants a kiss on Sebastian’s forehead and whispers in his ear, “He adores you.” She cradles his hand in her palms. “Be careful, my little love.”

Sebastian looks toward the ceiling, closes his eyes. If Chloe trusts this treasure so much, why is she warning him to be careful? And so what if Reid adores him? Adore . . . the word vibrates in Sebastian’s head as if sung under the strum of a harp’s arpeggio.

Reid offers Chloe two pecks. And though Sebastian envies the cheek-to-cheek exchange, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to do the same with the man who presently has edged too close to him.

Frank . . . the name comes as if sung under a trumpet’s four-count blast. Sebastian rubs his temples. The strain over his husband’s return at any given moment of the day or night is becoming unbearable. One glance toward the ceiling and Frank appears. One rumination, lustful or not, about Reid, and Frank appears. Fear over what’s ahead in his career as a choreographer and yet again, his husband appears. Then suddenly, Frank is gone, nowhere to be found.

Sebastian’s chest expands and settles easily as he releases everything back into the world. The stakes of the game aren’t really different than when Frank was, without a doubt, physically here. Night after night, Sebastian was left wondering when his husband would return home from the hospital.

 
. . .
 

Moments later, Sebastian and Reid head down Twelfth Street. Sebastian suggests they round the corner and take Eleventh Street to Sixth or Fifth Avenue.

Sebastian grips the rubbery crutch handles tightly. “So many trees, and row after row of brownstones. Just think about all the history and lives lived over centuries in these homes. I love this street.”

“Me too,” says Reid. “It’s always so quiet and serene. I swear, in the fall, you can actually hear the leaves drop.”

Sebastian gasps. “That’s exactly what I’ve always thought when I take this route!”

Reid’s dimples rise with his smile. “Our senses must be in tune.”

Sebastian chews his top lip. “Maybe.”

Reid hoists his backpack over one shoulder. “We should celebrate all we’ve accomplished with our work for the recital.”

“I don’t know.”

Reid’s mouth turns downward. Sebastian pouts too. Those eyes.

Halt! Sixth Avenue. Sebastian clamps down harder on the crutch handles and locks his shoulders. He jams each rubber cap on the bottom of his crutches into the pavement. His chest tightens as cars and taxis rush past and clusters of foot traffic mingle like zombies. The noise is deafening.

In a flash, Reid’s off the curb. “Taxi!”

“Watch it!” Sebastian yelps.

“It’s okay.” Reid steps back onto the sidewalk. “No worries.” He palms Sebastian’s lower back. “I only wanted to hail us a ride.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian squeezes inward and downward at the same time, his armpits ground into the crutches’ rubber pads. “I just freaked.” No actual emergency vehicle passes—yet, just as it has for the past year, an intermittent siren highjacks his brain.

“Let’s do something tonight,” Reid says, his head tilted.

Adorable. If only Sebastian could say it out loud. If only. “I . . . I don’t think so,” he replies. “My leg. I shouldn’t go out.” His heart rate crescendos toward allegretto, not unlike the way it felt when he first met Frank outside Steps Dance Studio nearly seven years ago. That’s the one good thing Greg has ever done for Sebastian: introduce him to his eventual husband.

“Your place. Let’s do it!” Reid covers his mouth. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean . . . it. Dinner. We can . . . you know . . . at your place. That’s what I meant.”

Sebastian coughs. “As you saw earlier, my place isn’t really prepped for company.” He shouldn’t allow this man to set foot in his and Frank’s home again.

“Okay then, a restaurant,” Reid offers. The weight of his hand on Sebastian’s forearm travels to the bottom of his feet.

“I’m still not sure.” Sebastian rolls his shoulder back, which, thankfully, prompts Reid to remove his hand.

“Come on. Live a little! Isn’t that what your dear Chloe always says?”

“Yes . . .” Sebastian closes his eyes. He could swear he senses a bucket of tears waiting in the wings. It’s so sweet that Reid is so in tune with him.

“Then let’s give it a try. We’ll find a quiet place. Somewhere so peaceful you can hear a leaf fall from the ceiling.” He walks his fingertips down the length of Sebastian’s arm. “And gently tap the floor.” He rests his palm on Sebastian’s wrist.

Sebastian shakes off the flutter that dances throughout his body. “Sounds charming.”

“Absolutely,” Reid says. “You rest your leg, and we grab a bite. You get protein like the doctor ordered, and like a real gentleman, I send you home in a taxi. And cross my heart, I’ll look both ways before I hail your ride.”

“But I can’t go out with you.” Even though it’s been less than a minute since Reid touched his wrist, the warmth and weight of his hand still lives there.

“What do you say? A friendly token of appreciation.”

“For what?”

“Your class, silly. In just two weeks you’ve helped me rediscover a little piece of my childhood.”

Heat rushes over Sebastian’s face. Dr. Garden’s not only a landscape artist, but he’s a poet. It’s been forever since any man has given Sebastian credit for aiding in his self-discovery.

“I swear, Seb—sorry.” Reid scrunches his face. “I mean, Sebastian. It’s you, my friend. You’ve really helped me.”

“I have?” Still, it’s hard for Sebastian to fathom he’s actually made such a difference in someone else’s life, especially a man he barely knows. Of course he helped Frank with medical school, and also cosigned loans, but Frank was the real hero, not the other way around. After losing his parents (who had also saved him through adoption), and living for so many years deathly afraid to love anyone or anything, it was Frank who rekindled Sebastian’s heart. And Chloe too—she’s rescued Sebastian's heart all these years, along with sweet kitty Arthur and, of course, Andrew, the man he insists on calling guru. They’ve all helped him, as Andrew would say, work toward self-actualization. But what has he done to aid his various caregivers’ development? Hard to tell; it’s surprising. Therefore, that someone like Reid, a seemingly successful man, would praise Sebastian for his help.

“Yes. I mean it. You’ve helped me regain a part of myself,” Reid says. “If only my dance teacher, Miss Sheila Jean, could see me now,” he adds with a swivel of his head. “All that stuff from childhood just . . . you can’t deny how it defines who you are today.”

Childhood. No shit. Sebastian nods. Suddenly his stomach creaks. He didn’t notice the hunger that lay dormant moments before.