The next two days went past quickly. Tuesday night Peter told Patrick and Grethe about the meeting with the hospital and their intention to schedule Michael for treatment at the earliest possible moment. This meant several days of testing and checking starting the following Monday. Patrick managed to absent himself physically or mentally whenever Peter started discussing medical details with his aunt. He simply couldn't bear to hear about the difficult times which awaited their sweet little boy.
On Wednesday morning Peter helped Patrick create a program on his shop website, where customers could book meetings during specific time periods on weekdays and Saturdays. Patrick also posted the new shorter opening hours and reminded his customers he could be reached via email or mobile phone in case of urgent commissions for personal cards. So far he hadn't been overwhelmed by people contacting him on his work phone and email, and even if his shop was doing better than expected, he knew it would always cater to a small exclusive group rather than a crowd.
He phoned John and arranged for the two couples to meet at the shop on Saturday just before he closed. He'd have the card for Anthony's mother ready by then. John groaned a bit at the reminder. "I'm glad we're going out with you Saturday night. It will keep my mind off the dreaded Sunday lunch. I love Tony, but most members of his family are boring bigots, penny pinching prudes or agonizing aunts. But since this is my mother-in-law's birthday, I cannot escape. At least Tony's parents are pretty cool." Patrick laughed heartily at John's alliterative insults which were surely a much repeated complaint.
Grethe had taken over the kitchen and Patrick encouraged her to rearrange it to her liking, and buy whichever implements and ingredients she wanted. They'd gone shopping for a dishwasher and managed to find a shop that could deliver and install by Friday. She'd already made several small improvements in addition to the smell of baking and the sound of happy Danish chatting which greeted him every afternoon. Grethe had wasted no time in establishing a visiting friendship with Mr. Archibald, who was more than pleased to come over for tea once or twice a day. Interestingly the old man got on well with Michael too, in spite of the language barrier.
Although Patrick knew Mr. Archibald had several grandchildren, he'd never paid much attention to them or their relationship with his neighbor. But apparently he had a grandson who was a year younger than Michael and had a passion for LEGO. This came out on Wednesday where Patrick brought home a rather expensive set which Michael lusted after according to Grethe. Peter had gone back to Copenhagen on an afternoon flight, so he wasn't there to protest against the extravagance. Patrick's hope was to distract Michael in case he missed his father, and the plan worked beautifully.
Especially since Mr. Archibald helped build the complicated Star Wars space ship. He'd line up the parts and assist whenever a bit of extra pressure was needed to fix the building components together. Michael was quite capable of following the instructions, but he enjoyed the attention and admiration of the adults as he slowly assembled the LEGO construction. Michael didn't say much, but stayed focused on the task and communicated by pointing and a few easy phrases such as "Press here, please. Where this? Help please." Patrick was proud of him for remembering the magic word, especially since Peter had told him there was no precise Danish equivalent of 'please'.
On Thursday afternoon Mr. Archibald's daughter arrived with not quite seven-year-old Robert, who clutched a bag with his two favorite Star Wars LEGO contraptions. The boys were equally shy but managed to spend half an hour finishing Michael's toy, assisted by Rob's granddad. Afterward they lined up the figures and space ships on the large kitchen table, while the adults talked and moster Grethe helped the boys communicate now and then. Patrick was relieved by Sheila ignoring the matter of Michael's dad being in a relationship with him, but of course the absence of Peter helped. Whether her reaction would be curiosity or censure, he felt ready for neither.
Their visitors left around six, and Patrick stood on the door step watching Rob skip next door with his granddad carrying the bag of Lego. Sheila lingered enough to say: "Thank you for the generous offer on my dad's house." When Patrick tried to protest the price hadn't even been set yet, she shook her head. "I'm not talking about the money, but about giving him time to get used to the idea and sort out his life." Mr. Archibald's daughter gave him an arch look. "And we might even get out of moving those damn rose bushes, since I've the feeling dad will be visiting his old house regularly in the future."
She left with a parting chuckle and Patrick went back in, smiling at how she'd picked up on her dad's growing fondness for tea with Danish biscuits and a chat with moster Grethe. Peter's aunt was already getting ready to make supper, and she gently chased Patrick off. "I've settled Michael for a quick nap in my room. You go and do whatever you need and supper will be ready at seven thirty." He knew better than to object and in fact did have various small tasks to do. Just as he was finishing up on his lap top, Grethe came out of her bed room carrying a still sleepy Michael. "Time to wake up, my boy, supper's ready." Just then the doorbell rang.
Patrick stood up in surprise, wondering who it could be. As he walked to the door, he got a fleeting glimpse of Grethe and Michael looking at him with equally mischievous and pleased grins. Next thing he knew two familiar figures popped into his mind wearing identical expressions of secretive glee. What on earth... But Patrick got no further in his thought, because he opened the door to find a large blond Viking with tired but happy blue eyes grinning at him. "Hi, honey, I'm b..." This was as far as his boyfriend got, before he suddenly had an excited brunet wrapped around him and kissing him right there on the door step.
Afterwards he wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up with his arms clutching Peter's neck and his legs wound around his hips, tongue kissing outside the front door. His boyfriend certainly liked the enthusiastic welcome and held him close with one arm supporting his butt and the other hand wrapped in his hair. The light from the hall illuminated them and in spite of the chilly night, Patrick felt as if steam was coming off their joint bodies. The angel voice in his head was cooing: 'oh he's home early, show him how happy you are to see him' while the little devil was chortling 'fuck yeah, go for it boy, let's give the whole neighborhood a live show right here in your front garden.'
In the silence of their small side road, the shocked gasp from next door was painfully audible. Once again the two different viewpoints in Patrick's head managed to coincide. 'Uh oh, shit's about to hit the fan!' Both men turned their heads to the side and met the outraged glare of the woman, who'd just come out of the neighboring house. The vague disapproval which Patrick had felt from her at previous encounters was now a torrent of indignant disgust and fury. Before they could react, she'd turned around and gone back inside, slamming the door behind her. "Oops we'd better get inside before she reports us for indecent exposure."
