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fMarvin is weary from his day as he enters the apartment he and Whizzer share. He’s in meteorology, which is ideal, but right now he’s doing data entry to work his way up, and it’s a boring job that pays like shit. He loosens his tie and leaves his shoes by the door before he catches a glance of their table, absolutely littered with bills.
He looks to the couch, where his boyfriend looks like a kicked puppy, browsing on his laptop, and decides in the moment to affect a better attitude.
“Honey, I’m home!” He leans over the back of the couch to kiss Whizzer’s temple, and then dances around the couch to join him, shrugging off his blazer all the while. He gently places it on the couch arm next to him and moves to rub Whizzer’s back, looking at the screen to see a page of piano listings on eBay.
“Hi babe.” Whizzer tries to hide a sniffle, but it doesn’t fool Marvin.
“What’s wrong?”
Whizzer’s chin meets his chest before he gestures to the table. “We’re behind on every goddamned bill, Marvin. Every single one.”
Marvin lifts Whizzer’s face to meet his own, and manages a weak smile. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He rubs his hands together to warm them, the January chill evident in their apartment, heating bill having lapsed a week ago.
Whizzer grimaces at the action and begins, “My piano can sell for enough to get us ahead two months, Marv. Plus, if I’m not auditioning so much, I can take on extra hours at the restaurant. Maybe even get a desk job.” He’s put on a brave facade for his speech, but Marvin can see the fear and despair behind it.
“No. No fucking way.”
“I have to, Marvin, you work your ass off all day, and I’m bringing nothing to the table. It’s time I make some sacrifices, because the current situation is just not working.”
Marvin brings his hand to Whizzer’s hair and combs his fingers through it. “You bring plenty to the table, Whizzer. It’s not your fault New York is expensive as shit.”
Whizzer sighs. “Doesn’t matter whose fault it is. Something’s gotta give, and there’s something I can do.”
Marvin halfway resigns and sighs. He kisses Whizzer’s forehead and leans into him, closing the laptop. “Don’t do anything yet. Give me a week to come up with the money.”
Whizzer opens his lips to protest, but just as soon as he does, Marvin is starting something else, asking for just a bit of bliss to distract from the day.
---
Whizzer is out the door for a Saturday brunch shift in the morning, so Marvin is glad for the quiet he needs to prepare himself and make the phone call.
He swore once college was over, he'd never say a word to them again. Rachel and Noah Cohen were upper class business folks with tight social circles, who subscribed to the book of parenting known as neglect. They had plenty of money to throw at their son, and they did, but when it came to nurture, they failed spectacularly. Rachel was attuned to her phone and the bottle as her son grew, and Noah had no time for his son until he so much as sneezed too loudly. Then he was a sharp tongued man with nothing but time to tell Marvin just how worthless he was.
Marvin supposes they could have been worse, gathering the courage to pick up the phone. They’d never laid a hand on him, and him being gay was more a disappointment on par with his college major than it was the end of the world. So there’s that, but he knows the phone call will hurt like a bitch.
It takes him thirty minutes to dial his father’s number. The ringing of the phone causes his stomach to churn.
“Noah Cohen.”
Marvin gulps. “Hey dad.”
“Marvin.”
“How are you and mom?”
“You didn’t call to engage in small talk, don’t waste my time with it now.”
“I-”
“Out with it, Marvin. Don’t be a pussy. Tell me what you want.”
Tears spring to Marvin’s eyes as he starts. “I need money.”
“You’ve got a job, don’t you?”
Marvin nods. “Yes, dad, it’s just- not enough to cover the bills.”
Noah snorts on the other end of the line. His voice is cold and filled with a harsh mirth. “What about that boy-toy you’ve got, is he good for nothing too?”
Marvin tries not to lose his temper, assuring himself that if he goes about this right, he and Whizzer will be set. “Whizzer works too, dad. New York is just expensive.”
“If you two didn’t choose those faggot-ass professions, I’m sure you’d be fine.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. He tries to keep it together, but his voice is soft when he speaks. “Dad, I really need your help.”
Noah Cohen is always good for money, so he wires it to Marvin’s bank account, and they end the call with fake pleasantries.
When he hangs up the phone, Marvin flops face down onto his pillow and erupts into tears.
It’s an hour later when Whizzer walks in the bedroom door to Marvin wracked with heaving sobs.
“Marvin, baby, what’s the matter?” Whizzer sits down next to Marvin’s head and rubs his shoulder.
“Talked to my dad today.”
“Oh god. What did he say?” Whizzer kisses the back of Marvin’s head.
“Doesn’t matter,” Marvin mumbles into the pillow.
Whizzer gently lifts Marvin into a hug and wipes away tears with the pads of his thumbs. “It matters to you, babe. So it matters to me.”
Marvin takes a deep sigh to calm his breathing. “It’s not worth repeating. But we’ve got the money.”
“What?” Whizzer is shocked.
“Ten months ahead, Whizzer, we’re golden. That’s more than enough time for either of us to catch a break.”
“But your father-”
“Sees me as an annoying, irresponsible obligation. I’m never gonna prove him wrong, might as well take advantage, right?” Marvin’s smile peeks through his eyes, still clouded by tears.
“But he is wrong.”
“And I’ll know that, tomorrow. But for now, the piano is saved and we are set, which is what matters.”
Whizzer is in tears now. “I’ll never understand how you can talk to them.” He takes Marvin’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Marvin.”
Marvin nods to the piano, visible through the door to the bedroom. “Don’t say sorry. Just play.”
Whizzer kisses Marvin, their tears joining on Marvin’s face, and then gestures toward the couch.
He wordlessly whips up a batch of hot cocoa, and slides a mug into Marvin’s hands, hoping the warmth cuts through the chill in the air, and he sits down on the bench.
The sad and beautiful melody calms the melancholy air and Marvin thinks to himself,
We will manage, somehow.