Hello all,
I'm considering starting some sort of social networking page for my writing if enough people would be interested in following. Most likely it will be Twitter. This is mostly so I don't lose touch with you lovely readers when I go on hiatus (it happens, silly life). Comment or feedback to let me know if this is something I should bother with or if I'm just flattering myself.
Love&Rockets,
kitten :)
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Brady got on the Interstate 45 feeder and turned into the shopping center. Ezra's stomach made a little gurgling noise. Brady smiled and pulled Ezra close to kiss his forehead. "I bet that last time you came had less to do with me and more to do with the thoughts of a Chinese buffet," he teased.
Ezra blushed and then retaliated. "I'll never tell."
Brady yanked the keys from the ignition. "Well, I thank you for sparing my pride." Brady stepped out of the truck with a bounce in his step. He was feeling so happy, and he knew part of it had to do with the morning of nothing but love making, naked cuddling, and napping. There was more though. If it was even possible, he was more in love.
Brady and Ezra entered the restraunt just as Grace was getting her change. They got her attention and she waited for them to pay so they could all sit together.
"So, Brady," Grace said. "I noticed you weren't in class today." The smile on her face revealed that she knew exactly what had been happening.
Brady cleared his throat and laughed. "Yeah, sudden sickness that disappeared just now. Let's go get food. Grace, I just saw them bring out some fresh Mongolian pork."
Grace scooted awkwardly out of the booth and waddled off to satisfy her craving for the peppery food. Brady and Ezra shared a smile and followed her to the buffet.
As they ate, Brady noticed Grace looking out the window.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Oh, my cousin was supposed to be meeting me. He's late, but no big deal. I could stay here all stinkin' day."
The waitress came and refilled Grace's glass of water. The liquid was gone before the waitress turned to walk away, not that it mattered to Grace, who waddled as fast as she could to get more of the pork from the buffet. Ezra watched her, smiling. "She's so happy to be a mom," he commented.
Grace returned, sighing. "You know, when I saw that little pink plus I swore I wouldn't be a stereotype. But, yeah, I am. And I don't care anymore."
Ezra asked Grace a few questions that she gladly answered. Things about how far along she was, names for the babies, all the nice gear that Grace's well-to-do relatives had floated her way to get out of a baby shower obligation. Things Brady hadn't even realized Ezra would be interested in. He'd always assumed that they wouldn't have kids, not just because that was biologically impossible, but because Brady had never seen himself as a parent. That was before Ezra. Brady briefly daydreamed of Ezra holding a little bundle of pink and it made sense to him. It felt natural. Ezra was so loving and gentle, any baby would be lucky to be his, and Brady would love and protect anything that was an extension of his love for Ezra. He hoped that one day it would be more than a daydream. With so many children desperate for love, surely at some point in their lifetime, adoption would be possible.
Brady had been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't realized Grace pointing out the window. "There's my cousin. Late as usual. I swear, don't know what to do with that boy."
Brady shifted uncomfortably as Myles entered the restaurant. He knew that Myles recognized them by the light blush that faded before he arrived. Grace was oblivious to the fact that they all knew each other and made introductions. Myles kept his face in a mask of indifference. In the past, this would have irked Brady, but now he could understand the motive of confused feelings and made no move to reveal the events of the night before.
***
Myles trudged up the stairs to his apartment. He threw his bag by the door. He wasn't normally a sloppy person, but he was tired. He replied to a text from Grace, lying about a headache and a nap in his future. Well, the headache wasn't a lie, but the nap was. He felt exhausted and yet knew that if he laid down, he'd remain wide awake.
He managed a smile as he tossed a few pellets of food to his hamster, Angie. He even let himself imagine that the look in her beady little eyes was one of gratitude and not the desire to nibble a hole through yet another of his shirts. He watched her stuff the pellets in her mouth and carefully shuffle into her soup can to arrange the pellets into a pyramid. He decided at least one of them should have a good day, so he tossed a treat in as well. The sound of her nibbling filled his otherwise empty apartment.
Even though he knew he wouldn't sleep, he crashed on his bed anyway. He considered crying, but decided against it. He'd dealt with depression since he was about nine. He could get over this funk. He'd done so for ten years, with no one ever having the slightest clue. Except Grace. Grace always knew. Just like she knew about the cuts he hid with long sleeves when they were twelve. And the pills at thirteen. And the drinking at fifteen. And about the car accident that wasn't entirely an accident when they were sixteen. He knew she would find out soon enough about the dangerous, self destructive fooling around. Especially if she was now hanging around with that couple from the other night. But he lied to himself. Told himself he was glad for a rest from her constant mothering.
But he did want her to find out. And to come knocking on his door, ready to do anything to slap him out of it. She would make him a meal, make him go to sleep, be there when he woke up to give him an equal amount of hugs and slaps upside the head. She would put her arm around him, ask him to go see someone about this. He would shrug, claim to feel totally better. He would believe it for a while. But then, he'd be back into the same spiral. It didn't matter how hard he tried to fight it. How much money he spent on new distractions. It never worked. It never really had, except once. After his second surgery, when downing a bottle of painkillers had seemed mightily appealing and Grace had arrived with a box of rodent supplies and, in a smaller cardboard carton with air-holes, there was Angie. At first, he had eyed her with the same smoldering anger and sadness that veiled everything in his life. But then she grew on him. And he grew fond of watching her run around and play.
He sighed and sat up, glancing at Angie's quiet cage. He hated it, but he knew deep down what would take away what little strength he had left. Angie just wasn't playful anymore. She was getting old and had truthfully outlived his expectations.
He felt like he was made of paper. And then he felt stupid for feeling like that.
Myles hated the thoughts swirling around in his head. He wanted to sleep. Though he didn't often allow himself to take that road, he went to his medicine cabinet and took a dose of cough suppressant.
***
He woke up at noon, rolling over. His hair felt grungy. His mouth tasted bad. He went and took a quick shower, but it didn't make him feel better. He picked up the bag of treats and shook it next to Angie's cage. Usually she would peek out of her hiding spot. Cold dread washed over him. He couldn't bring himself to open the cage door.
He dropped the bag, slowly dragged himself to his phone. It was dead. He didn't feel like plugging it in. Didn't feel like doing anything. He wondered when it had happened and felt guilty for sleeping through it. He wondered what he was even going to do. He stepped outside into the breezeway, hoping for fresh air. He glanced out at the grassy area and wondered if anyone would complain if he buried Angie there. And he wondered how he would even do it with no shovel or anything.