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Once Andrew and Neil were both in their forties and retired from exy, they moved to a small town, detached from the hustle and bustle from the cities they had grown so accustomed to. They bought a not-too-small house about a mile or two from the center of the town. A few streets down from their home was a park, and sometimes, when neither of the older men could sleep, Andrew would drive them to the park and they would swing in silence. Crawling onto their roof at their ages seemed impossible because of arthritis and age that had settled deep into their bones.
Sometimes, Andrew and Neil would laze on their old sofa and talk quietly or watch a movie. Their cats would curl up in their laps and knead their legs, begging for attention or maybe a snack. Most of the time, Andrew would grumble and stand up, making his way to the kitchen to get the cat treats that had been bought specifically for these moments. Other times, Neil would pet the cats and try his hardest not to wake Andrew, who had the afghan wrapped around his shoulders.
There were nights in the summer, when Andrew and Neil would pile into the car and drive ten miles to the next town over and order dinner at an older, local restaurant. They’d get burgers and fries and sit at the picnic table near an old, rickety horse with a sign proclaiming that it was only ten cents to ride her. When they first moved into town, Neil could never convince Andrew to sit on the ride and insert ten cents, but years later, he did. Only once, maybe twice when they were the only two customers there.
Some nights when they got dinner, Andrew would go back to order two cones for Neil and himself and they would eat those under bright florescent lights, mosquitoes and flies buzzing around. They only visited on hot, sticky, and humid summer nights when everything seemed very surreal. Andrew would stay quiet for the most part, save for when he teased Neil for his shirt or the way that he hummed along to one of the pop songs on the radio.
After a year or so of living in the small town, Andrew had gotten a job at the local library. Neil laughed a little at the idea of Andrew walking around and shushing too-loud teenagers and scanning library cards. Even though the idea was absolutely something to laugh at, Andrew was absolutely destined to be a library. Who better to remember where exactly that one book of Sylvia Plath’s was than the man who could remember anything and everything? Who better to work in a library than a man who was by far more well-read than most? It was completely fitting that a man with a knowledge and a vague passion for books to work in a library.
A few months after Andrew began work at the library, Neil began to write his first book, a children’s book about talking animals. The main character was a fox, and it was so fucking transparent that Andrew had laughed for a solid half hour upon hearing the idea. Neil had shoved him with a scowl and rolled his eyes before jotting down more ideas.
Neil’s book was published a year and a half after that night when he told Andrew about his book. When the first copy of the book was delivered in the mail, illustrated and beautiful, Andrew had laughed before sitting down on the sofa to read to their aging cats. Neil sat beside Andrew, resting his head on Andrew’s shoulder, grinning wider than he did when they won at the Olympics. As Andrew read the book, his voice flat and void of emotion, Neil and the cats had fallen asleep. When he finished reading aloud, Andrew flipped through the pages and skimmed back over the words, paying special attention to the illustration.
Once he’d placed the book on the tabled, he would grab a blanket and throw it over both Neil and himself and study Neil’s features—his closed eyes, his messy auburn hair, his scars on his cheeks, and the wrinkles that had begun to form—until he fell asleep.
In the mornings, Andrew would usually wake up to either a hand on his cheek or a paw on his shoulder or chest. He’d grumble and shuffle to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee and maybe an omelette or waffles. Neil would scoop the food onto plates for him, and Andrew would pour two cups of coffee after pouring breakfast for the cats.
Generally, they didn’t speak at breakfast, save to quietly talk about a dream they had the night before or upcoming plans. Sometimes, breakfast was silent but not uncomfortably so. The cats would pad around the kitchen, and the clock would tick. Sometimes, the phone would ring, and Neil would answer one of his old teammates, voice scratchy and slow due to sleep.
After breakfast, they would prepare for the day. Andrew would hop in the shower, and sometimes, Neil would join him. Other times, Neil would stay in the kitchen and clean up their breakfast mess. After drying his hair, Andrew would wrap himself in a towel and sit on the bed. As he stared blankly at their closet, Neil would come in and gently kiss his forehead or his cheek or his lip or his neck. They would stay close for more than a while before Andrew would stand up and actually get dressed.
Before leaving for the library, Andrew would sit down and gently scratch behind the ears of their cats before looking at Neil. They’d exchange kisses before Andrew would slip his feet into his shoes and make his way out to the car. Depending on the day or their schedules, Neil would join Andrew in the car. Those were the mornings they didn’t have breakfast at home. Those mornings, Andrew would drag Neil to the diner across the street from the library.
Andrew's days were typically slow and quiet, and he never minded. He’d sit in his chair and read a book that a teenager had told him about weeks before. Not many adults visited the library, so Andrew typically chatted with children and teenagers. Some of them were exy fans and were excited on the days that Neil was in the library. They would fire off questions to the retired exy star, and he would answer each of them, just as excited as each of the exy fans.
The quieter library-goers and the ones that barely had a clue about what exy was would ask Andrew questions. The teenagers and some young adults would usually try to ask for book recommendations or if he could order a book that they had wanted to read desperately. In those cases, Andrew would bring his copy of the book from home and lend it to them.
The children would always ask if he could help them with the computers or if he knew how to work the card catalog or if he knew any good books about dinosaurs or princesses or volcanoes or maybe snakes. He would show them to where he did know of a good book about their interest and grab the book from the highest shelf.
Andrew knew most of the children better than the teenagers, as he was practically a babysitting service on Saturdays—though secretly, he never did mind. Saturday was the day set aside for crafts or puppets shows or a book reading. Typically, Neil read his books, and that was fine with all of the children.
When Andrew was a kid, he didn’t get books read to him or puppet shows or crafts on Saturday morning. He made sure each of the kids he interacted with was safe. He’d give them blank stares that every other person would receive even though he was curious about how their arms got bruised.
The kids were always excited to see Mr. Andrew and would tell him stories about their week or where they went on vacations. Andrew, in turn, would hum and fix them with a stare and give them a fact about where they went.
On a slow Tuesday afternoon in the summer, a teenage girl walked in, posture stiff. She was a regular at the library, checking out as many books as she could carry. She was no more than fifteen and always rode to the library on a yellow bike. Sometimes, she would tell Andrew about a book he had never read. Never a long ramble, just a short summary, and then, she was on her way, stuffing her books in her backpack or plopping them in the basket on her bike.
Today was different, as she walked in, her books close to her chest. She had been crying and looked as if the wind was going to blow her far, far away. She set her things down at a table in the far corner and rested her head on top of her books.
She wasn’t one of the obnoxious teenagers by far. She was quiet and calm and reminded Andrew so much of Renee and yet, maybe some of himself. Thinking of what to do, Andrew made his way to the back room and made a cup of hot chocolate for the young girl.
Quietly, Andrew made his way back out to the main floor, approaching the girl’s table. He said her name, Evelyn, and she looked up with wide, teary eyes. He made a vague sort of gesture to the back room, and she stood up to follow. Before they made their way back there, he handed her the cup. He had his own back on the coffee table.
Once they made it back there, Andrew took a seat in an armchair, which left Evelyn with the sofa. In that moment, Andrew felt like Bee. He saw not Evelyn on the sofa but an empty-eyed, staring Andrew. It wasn’t until after she finished her first cup of hot chocolate, and Andrew fixed her a second one that she began to speak. He didn’t push her to talk, just let her come out with it in pieces.
Evelyn had said that life at home had been rocky leading up to that day. Her mom and dad had been fighting with each other and yelling at Evelyn for practically anything. She admitted that she knew she hadn’t been the nicest and maybe she deserved some of. Andrew’s grip on the mug tightened at that. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and wiped at her eyes before telling the librarian that she hadn’t really been in a great mental state and that she had so much to tell her parents.
The teenager set her mug down at the table and covered her face with her hands for a few minutes. Finally, she picked up her head and grabbed the mug again, avoiding the Andrew’s blank stare. In one breath, she told him how that she told her parents that she was gay and that in a small town like this, especially, the people are so much more likely to be conservative and that she never expected her parents to be so awful about it. She started to cry as she confessed that her parents had called her terrible things and said they didn’t want her to be in their home anymore.
Andrew sighed a little through his nose, barely detectable. He asked if she had any place to stay, and Evelyn shook her head a little. She apologized for crying so much and thanked him for listening and for the hot chocolate. He nodded slightly and asked her if she needed a place to say, to which she nodded.
Andrew stared at his mug for a long moment before texting Neil, asking if it was a problem to house Evelyn for a while. He then ordered the other man to make up the guest bedroom. Neil gave him the affirmative. Finally, Andrew asked if she was okay with staying with himself and Neil until they found her somewhere permanent.
Evelyn nodded again, smiling through her tears, before asking if he was sure it was really okay, and Andrew said it was fine, as long as Evelyn was safe and not being harmed, it was okay. She nodded a little before Andrew stood up slowly to start fixing another cup of hot chocolate.
He told her that they had to stay another half-hour until close and then, they could go and that they should probably get dinner, too, because he was fucking starving. Evelyn smiled softly and nodded, thanking him. Later, once Andrew loaded her yellow bike into the back of his car and he’d pulled up to the house, she had stopped crying for the most part. When she walked in ahead of Andrew, she smiled when she saw how many bookcases were in the Minyard-Josten home. Evelyn immediately made her way to the closest shelf and started examining each book. One of the cats circled around her legs as she stared at each of the books. She bent down to pick him up before continuing her search.
Neil felt more than a bit guilty to interrupt her exploration of the bookcases, but he suggested dinner, which caused both Evelyn and Andrew to nod. Andrew grabbed his keys again before walking out of the door, leaving Evelyn and Neil to follow him out.
Andrew drove them to the next town over, pulling up at the restaurant Andrew and Neil liked to frequent. He ordered burgers and fries for everyone as Neil asked Evelyn questions. When dinner was cleared out, Andrew bought them all ice cream cones before driving back into town, stopping at the park where all three of them sat on the swings, crickets chirping as the moon shone overhead.