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“Honey, is my tie still on straight?”
“Yes, Jeff, you look fine,” Lynn answered. She looked over to give him a brief smile, and then she darted one hand up towards Jeff’s chest. Before he could even follow the movement, Lynn’s hand retreated, and she flicked the small bit of lint she’d grabbed into the floor of the parking garage. Jeff sighed, his shoulders sagging. He glanced down at himself to see that his green-and-blue striped tie, at least, really was straight. But did the pattern look too bold against his charcoal dress shirt?
“D’you think I should’ve worn a jacket?” Jeff asked then. “A real suit jacket, I mean. Not this.” He waved a hand down to indicate the thick, parka-style coat he’d worn. It looked nice enough, and it was doing an admirable job of keeping the November chill from Jeff’s bones, but Jeff knew it didn’t qualify as formalwear. Maybe that had been a mistake.
“Jeff…”
Lynn sighed, and she stopped where she stood. Jeff stilled next to her, watching with his brow anxiously drawn as Lynn took a step closer to him.
“I know you’re nervous,” Lynn murmured. She held out her hands then, and Jeff took them. Even through the wool gloves that both of them wore, Jeff felt the steady warmth of Lynn’s grip, grounding him in the moment.
“I’m a little nervous, too,” Lynn went on. “But I’m sure it’ll be alright. These company parties are more about just putting in the appearance, anyway. If we’re not having fun, we can leave after an hour, okay?”
If Jeff didn’t know Lynn so well, he would struggle to believe that she was anything but calm; she stood straight and tall, taller than him in her heeled winter boots, and her face was wide-open, the curtains of her jet hair pulled back into an elegant updo. But there were tells, like the way that Lynn slowly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, or the way that she was subtly staring between Jeff’s eyes and not into them. Some of the anxiety weighing on Jeff took flight, and he smiled back at Lynn, reassured. Lynn was probably right about the party. And even if she wasn’t, it still helped Jeff to know that he wasn’t the only one feeling uncertain about it.
“Sounds good to me,” Jeff agreed. “I’m sure the babysitter would be glad to have an early night, too.”
“Exactly.” Lynn turned on her heel and resumed the walk towards the door at the edge of the parking garage. She kept her grip on Jeff’s hand, so Jeff was content to follow along a half-step behind her. After getting through the small, chilly antechamber of the parking garage, they rode the plush-carpeted elevator up to the club’s lobby level. The doors slid open, and almost immediately, Jeff’s anxiety returned in force. The social club’s lobby had lofted ceilings, where massive crystal chandeliers twinkled cheerfully with candelabra-style lightbulbs. A tall, narrow Christmas tree bedecked in tinsel and golden ornaments stood next to a gas-powered fireplace, flames flickering from behind a pane of glass. Upon closer inspection, Jeff noticed a single small menorah resting on the mantel above the fireplace, a token effort to make this “holiday party” more inclusive. Sure enough, as Jeff’s eyes followed the low bubbling crowd-noise to the wide open dining room beyond the lobby, he saw nothing but holly boughs and poinsettia plants decorating the tablecloths.
“Good evening, you two!”
Jeff’s observations were interrupted as a maitre’d approached them, a young man wearing a slim-fitting black shirt and slacks punctuated by a shiny silver bow tie. There was a glossy black clipboard clutched in his hand, cradled against his hip. He smiled and nodded at Jeff and Lynn in turn.
“You must be here for Angel of Mercy’s annual surgical staff party,” he said, his eyes resting on Jeff. Lynn dropped Jeff’s hand and stepped forward to smile at the maitre’d instead.
“We are,” she said, her voice smooth and warm. “I’m Doctor Lynn Denlon.”
“Alrighty, Doctor Denlon!” The man returned Lynn’s smile before hastily burying his face in his clipboard, clicking a pen to life in his free hand. “Denlon, Denlon… here you are. And you must be Jeff!”
Jeff chuckled and adjusted his tie as the man’s eyes snapped back up to him.
“Guilty,” he said.
“If you’d like, Mister Denlon, we have a coat check for our guests this evening.”
“Oh, that’d be great!”
Jeff squirmed out of his coat and prepared to hand it off to the maitre’d— but the man just chuckled at him and pointed back in the direction from which he’d come. Jeff saw a small counter in an alcove he hadn’t noticed before, where a somewhat bored-looking woman stood in front of a long row of coats.
“They’ll be happy to help you right over there, sir.”
Lynn said nothing; not for the first time, Jeff wondered why she still bothered bringing him to events like this. He forced a sheepish smile and nodded back at the maitre’d.
“Right,” Jeff said, his voice tight. “Well, thank you.”
Jeff headed for the coat check before he could embarrass himself any further, Lynn following along at his side. He dropped off his coat as quickly as he could manage, and after stuffing the claim ticket into the pocket of his dress shirt, he turned to look at Lynn.
“It’s okay,” Lynn said. She gave Jeff a brief smile and a squeeze on the shoulder as the two of them turned to survey the dining room. It was a massive hall, long and rectangular. Tables full of surgeons and their spouses laughed and drank together, as a well-coordinated waitstaff crisscrossed the tables like a pack of wolves, carrying silver trays of champagne flutes and appetizers as if they were weightless. At the opposite end of the room, an empty stage stood with a podium at its center, a fabric banner with Angel of Mercy’s logo spread across the wall behind it.
“So, where should we go?” Jeff quietly asked Lynn. “You think it’s assigned seating?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Lynn murmured, as her eyes quickly scanned over the crowd. “They’re not seated by alphabetical order or by department, anyways.” Her assessment complete, she looked back at Jeff and tilted her head.
“I think we can sit wherever we want,” she said. Jeff nodded back at her.
“Well, you’re the expert,” he said. “I’ll follow you.”
Lynn nodded. She took a small, deep breath, and then she strode over the threshold to the dining room, Jeff in tow. Lynn moved with incredible grace through the room. She danced around tables and past waiters like a snake, and all the while, she managed to politely greet the other doctors that she knew with a smile and a nod. Jeff did his best to follow in her wake, greeting the doctors whose names and faces he was confident that he remembered; the ones he wasn’t sure about just got a small, polite wave of his hand. But all along the way, it seemed that the tables they passed were all full, or else they only had open seat. Jeff began to wonder if he and Lynn would have to be separated. Maybe there was a table somewhere that was set aside for average-Joe husbands of trauma surgeons.
“Lynn!” a warm, deep voice greeted. “How lovely to see you here.”
Jeff registered that Lynn had stopped walking one second too late, and he bumped into the man who had stopped her. Jeff quickly stepped backwards and placed a hand on the stranger’s arm to steady them both, hoping that perhaps he could pass off the heat in his face as a side effect of the warm room. The sleeve of the man’s suit jacket was a deep forest green, and it felt rich and almost slick beneath Jeff’s fingers.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” Jeff sputtered. He looked up then, to see exactly who he’d embarrassed himself in front of…
And he was met with a man who looked like he’d just emerged from a magazine. He was tall and had golden-blond hair, meticulously combed back into a coif. His mouth was full and pouting, and the hint of a bemused smirk rose to its corners. The flute of champagne the man delicately held in one hand was miraculously undisturbed by Jeff’s collision. The man tilted his head as he looked down at Jeff, regarding him with pale, probing blue eyes and his heavy brow drawn.
“That’s quite alright,” the man said. His gaze flickered down to Jeff’s hand, still resting on his arm; Jeff released his grip as if the man’s sleeve had burned him. Right away, the man visibly relaxed, his broad shoulders falling as his eyebrows evened out.
“Oh, I don’t think you two have met,” Lynn said. Jeff and the stranger both looked to her in unison. “Lawrence, this is my husband, Jeff.”
“Ah, so you’re Jeff!”
As the man— Lawrence— extended his hand for Jeff to shake, all of the malice that Jeff thought he’d seen in Lawrence’s expression seemed to drain away. Jeff took Lawrence’s hand, and right away, he made note of the warm, steely grip of Lawrence’s fingers. Definitely the grip of a surgeon. The smile that Lawrence gave him then was so bright and perfect, even a dentist would be jealous. Jeff found he felt no less intimidated than he had ten seconds ago.
“Doctor Lawrence Gordon,” Lawrence said, with a well-practiced cadence that suggested he always introduced himself that way. “I’m a surgeon, and I also preside over the hospital’s oncology ward.”
“Nice to meet you, Lawrence,” Jeff said. Lynn had told him several times it was okay to refer to her doctor coworkers by their first names, but still, Jeff felt a twinge of impropriety. “Wow, surgery and oncology? You must be a busy guy.”
Lawrence chuckled as he withdrew his hand.
“Busy doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve been free to attend the holiday party in at least half a decade.”
“Then I guess that explains why we’ve never met,” Jeff observed.
“So it does.” Lawrence took a refined sip of his champagne, and when he returned his attention to Lynn, Jeff was privately relieved. In his experience, real surgeons weren’t supposed to be like the ones on TV— with the exception of Lynn, most of the other surgeons Jeff had met looked no more beautiful or remarkable than Jeff himself did. So how on earth was someone as unearthly-handsome as Lawrence a surgeon? And an oncologist?
“Lynn, where are you sitting?” Lawrence asked.
“Nowhere, yet,” Lynn admitted. “We just got here a few minutes ago.”
“I see,” Lawrence said. “Well, Ally and I managed to secure a table near the windows, and we still have some open seats, if you’d like to join us.”
Lynn cut a quick look to Jeff, and he shrugged, nodding his approval. At this point, he’d sit anywhere if it meant having someplace to sit. Even if that did mean sitting with Lawrence.
“We’d love to,” Lynn said. She and Lawrence exchanged smiles, and then Lawrence turned on his heel. He swanned through the crowd with nearly as much grace as Lynn did, his chin held high, like he didn’t even see the waiters he wove around. Maybe, Jeff wondered, he really didn’t.
Lawrence led them both to a circular table tucked into a surprisingly cozy corner of the dining hall, beneath one of the tall frosted glass windows. There were three empty chairs around the table, not counting a fourth chair that Jeff assumed was Lawrence’s. The table’s final chair was occupied by a woman who looked just as radiant and unreal as Lawrence did. She was also blond, her curled hair lighter than Lawrence’s and cascading down past her shoulders. She had high, rosy cheeks and a button nose, and her bright, sparkling eyes were blue, too. She wore pearl drop earrings that matched her necklace, and though she was sitting, Jeff could see that her dress was made of red crushed velvet. Lawrence sat down in his chair and placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder, and Jeff realized that the two of them were wearing matching outfits. Christmas colors. Jeff forced himself not to look down at his own shirt, or at Lynn’s silver dress.
“Ally, you remember Doctor Lynn Denlon,” Lawrence said to the woman at his side. She smiled and nodded up at Lynn as Lawrence continued, “Lynn is one of our trauma surgeons. One of our best, in my opinion.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Alison,” Lynn said. She sank into one of the empty chairs at the table, and Jeff took that as his cue to sit down next to her. He didn’t realize until it was too late that his chair faced both Lawrence and Alison dead-on. It was like gazing directly into twin suns.
“You too, Lynn.” Alison smiled and raised her half-empty champagne from the table, tipping the flute at Lynn in greetings. Alison’s eyes wandered to Jeff next, and her smile widened, though her thin eyebrows began to draw together.
“Hello!” Alison said. “I don’t think we’ve met. You must be—?”
“I’m Jeff. I’m Lynn’s husband.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jeff. My name’s Alison. I’m Larry’s wife.”
Jeff nodded politely, and when a waiter whisked by and placed a flute of champagne on the table before him, Jeff eagerly picked it up and took a drink. He couldn’t imagine having the courage or the power to call Lawrence “Larry.” It seemed like holding a hand inside a lion’s mouth and trusting it not to bite.
“Jeff does…” Lawrence started, but then he trailed off, chuckling and shook his head. Embarrassment? Or at least, a convincing show of it. Jeff was surprised to see any sign of weakness in Lawrence, no matter how slight. “I’m sorry, Jeff. I’ve drawn a complete blank. What exactly is it that you do?”
”I’m in computers,” Jeff said. Then, off Lawrence and Alison’s blank, expectant looks, he continued, “I mean, I do repairs on computers and other small electronics. I’ve done some programming here and there, too.”
“Oh, that’s fascinating!” Alison said. Jeff blinked at her, assessing whether or not her reaction was genuine; historically, people’s eyes tended to glaze over once he started talking about his work. But Alison regarded Jeff with clear interest.
“I guess you never have to worry about job security, then. Every morning I walk into the office, and it seems like there’s a new machine or digital something that wasn’t there before.”
Slowly, a grin rose to Jeff’s face.
“Yeah, that’s true,” he said. “Things have changed a lot, and they’re only gonna change more. With the advances in graphics cards and computer memory, computers are only going to get smaller and more powerful soon.”
“I hope so,” Lawrence commented. “Maybe one day they can fill out my patients’ records for me.”
It wasn’t until Lynn and Alison were both laughing that Jeff realized: Lawrence had made a joke. His delivery was so vodka-dry, Jeff had nearly missed it. Even now, there was only the barest hint of a grin at the corner of Lawrence’s mouth, the smallest mischievous glint in his eyes. Late to the party, Jeff chuckled, too.
Another waiter came around, offering finger sandwiches, and Jeff took one, along with a glass of water to accompany his champagne. The chair he sat in was warm and plush; when he looked over at Lynn, she met his eyes long enough to give him a quick smile, before she looked back to the table, her deep brown eyes sparkling like onyx in the warm light of the room. Jeff settled in and made himself comfortable. Maybe they wouldn’t be calling it an early night after all.
Nearly two hours had gone by, and for the first time at a company event he could remember, Jeff was sincerely having fun. After two glasses of champagne, he’d made his way to the club’s cash bar for a rum and Coke, which he now nursed at the table he and Lynn shared with the Gordons. Dinner had been delicious— steak, salad, and mashed potatoes for Lawrence and Alison, salmon with peas and a mushroom sauce for Lynn and Jeff— and Lynn still picked at her mushrooms here and there between bursts of conversation. Jeff gathered that Lawrence and Alison must have planned to catch a cab home; between the two of them, they had emptied five flutes of champagne, and Lawrence had a glass of rich-looking red wine in his hand now. But if Jeff hadn’t watched the two of them do it, he wouldn’t believe that either of them had drunk so much. Alison was a bit more talkative now, and maybe the flush in her face was a tad brighter, but she still held her composure better than Jeff would have in her place. And as for Lawrence… Jeff found himself wondering if he had some supernatural alcohol tolerance, to match his supernatural good looks and charm. It seemed that not even a single golden hair was out of place, as Lawrence smiled and chatted with the rest of the table. It was still hard for Jeff not to be intimidated by Lawrence; even ignoring his looks (or trying to), he clearly had a towering intellect, not to mention his sharp, dry wit. He seemed so… perfect. But perfect people usually had a way of making Jeff feel like nothing he did was good enough. So far, Lawrence hadn’t done that. In fact, as he leaned in and placed his chin to rest on his interwoven fingers, fixing him with a bright, curious stare, Lawrence made Jeff feel like he was actually interesting.
“So, Jeff,” Lawrence began. He spoke lowly, his resonant voice softened— Alison and Lynn were having their own conversation, and Lawrence probably just didn’t want to interrupt them. “What do you think about this… millennium bug that the papers are talking about?”
Jeff blinked; he still wasn’t used to people expressing a sincere interest in his work. But he cleared his throat and answered, trying to match Lawrence’s pitch, “You mean the Y2K problem?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Is it really going to be as bad as people say?”
“It could be.” Jeff shrugged. “If the big banks and programmers don’t update their backends before the new millennium, then it definitely will be.”
“I’ve read some of the reports,” Lawrence said. “But I’m not sure that I quite understand the specifics. What’s going to happen?”
“Well, basically…” Jeff paused, trying to consider how best to explain the issue in layman’s terms. “When computer programs were first being written, computers didn’t have much memory at all, so programs needed to be made as small as possible. Programmers back then saved space by encoding the year with just two digits— instead of 1994, for example, the computer just reads 94 and figures out the rest.”
Lawrence nodded and raised his head to take a quick sip of his wine. Jeff matched him with another draught of his own drink.
“The problem is that, when the date rolls over to 2000, the computers are just gonna read the zeroes as 1900, instead. It could mess up all kinds of stuff— payment schedules, credit cards, even things like airfare and automated nuclear monitoring systems. Anything that relies on knowing exactly what year it is could be affected.”
Lawrence, to Jeff’s bewilderment, seemed enraptured. He nodded along with Jeff’s every word, and his eyes had widened, if only a little.
“That’s terrifying,” Lawrence said. His eyes sparkled like a sunlit lake, as his gaze slowly swept over Jeff’s face. “So what are you going to do?”
“There’s a few different strategies that are being considered,” Jeff answered. He grinned at Lawrence, confidence inflating his words; the way Lawrence was staring at him, it was like he thought Jeff himself was going to solve the Y2K problem. “The simplest way is just to recode the programs to read and write 4-digit years, but there’s a lot of programs that’ll have to be recoded, and computer memory isn’t that cheap yet.”
Lawrence frowned, apparently considering this.
“Well… there’s still four more years before it becomes a problem,” he said after a moment. Jeff couldn’t tell if Lawrence was trying to reassure him, or if he was trying to reassure himself. “I’m sure you and the other programmers of the world will figure something out. Someone as brilliant with computers as you clearly are shouldn’t have any issues with it.”
“Right,” Jeff agreed, around another drink of his rum. He felt his face flushing under Lawrence’s praise, and he decided this would have to be his last drink of the night. Even if Lynn had already agreed to drive before they left home, Jeff knew he couldn’t hold his liquor as elegantly as Lawrence could. The last thing Jeff wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of his new… friend? Acquaintance? Whatever their new connection was, Jeff couldn’t risk souring it.
“Larry, did you hear that?”
Alison nudged Lawrence’s shoulder. He sat upright all at once, snapping his eyes off Jeff to look at Alison and give her a little smile.
“No, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Lawrence said. Jeff saw Alison’s mouth twist, just briefly, before her smile returned.
“Lynn was just telling me that her son Dylan is already talking in full sentences. He’s not even three yet! Can you believe that?”
“Really? That’s incredible!” Lawrence gave Lynn an indulgent smile. “You and Jeff must be very proud.”
“We are,” Lynn agreed. When she looked over at Jeff, there was no mistaking the admiration and gratitude in her eyes. “Jeff is able to do a lot of his repairs from out of our garage, so he’s always around to watch Dylan. I’m very lucky.”
“No kidding,” Alison agreed. “Even just the thought of taking maternity leave stings a little. I’m worried my office wouldn’t still be standing when I came back!”
“Are you—?” Jeff started to ask, before he hurriedly bit his tongue. But the damage was already done; Alison’s smile faltered, and a brief wince even crossed Lawrence’s face before his expression smoothed back out.
“We’ve been talking about it,” Alison graciously answered. “We’d like to. Just… Between a surgeon-oncologist’s schedule and an attorney’s, finding the time seems a bit difficult.”
The smile that rose to Lawrence’s face then seemed curiously hollow to Jeff. He shrugged and said, “We’ve picked out names, at least. So when the time comes, we’ll be ready.”
“What names?” Lynn asked.
“Either Magnus or Diana,” Alison said. Lynn hummed and nodded.
“Those are lovely,” she said. Jeff had to agree; both of them sounded so regal and refined. Perfect for a family like the Gordons.
“Thank you,” Lawrence and Alison answered in unison. The two of them glanced to each other and exchanged a low, brief laugh. Lawrence’s eyes wandered back to Jeff, and it seemed to Jeff like Lawrence wanted to say something else… But then, Lynn spoke up, and Lawrence’s attention returned to her.
“Anyways,” Lynn said. “Lawrence, we should have a new class of students starting their residencies in just a couple months. Are you excited?”
It seemed that Lawrence was soothed by talking about work; a smile returned to his face, even as he shrugged.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose I’ll be excited if any of them are any good. I don’t know about you, Lynn, but the last group that I worked with was… Underwhelming. To put it mildly.“
“Really? I saw some promising students in the last group I worked with,” Lynn said. She tilted her head and added with a small grin, “Maybe the group you saw will end up going to Saint Eustace instead.”
“God, let’s hope so,” Lawrence said with a wry little snicker. “To be honest, though, I’m not sure how much time I’ll be able to spend with next semester’s class. Angel of Mercy is hosting that visiting cardiologist and his team from overseas in January, after all.”
“Oh, is it that guy, what’s his name— Simon? Whitehart?” Alison asked. “Didn’t you go to school with him?”
Lawrence nodded at Alison, but didn’t fully look at her. Maybe he was finally beginning to feel his wine; Jeff saw the faintest hint of a pink tone in Lawrence’s face.
“We had a few classes together,” Lawrence answered, his voice clipped.
“You went to school overseas?” Jeff asked, mostly to fill the brisk silence that followed in Lawrence’s wake.
“Yeah,” Lawrence answered. “Oxford. I was only there for a year. It was an accelerated program.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Jeff said. Lawrence flashed him a quick grin, but the gesture seemed plastic somehow, almost disingenuous. Jeff looked over to Lynn, and he found her frowning, her brows drawn together in thought.
“I thought Whitehart’s visit was canceled,” she said. “Something about budget issues on Angel of Mercy’s side. The board was worried about being able to comfortably afford hosting him, after making all those upgrades to the radiology labs last month.”
“What?”
For the first time that evening, Lawrence seemed truly caught off guard; he paused for a moment, his glass of wine held in midair between the tabletop and his mouth. Jeff squinted and glanced around the table, trying to figure out if there was some piece of context he was missing.
“I’m not certain,” Lynn said. “That’s just what I overheard in the break room the other day. A couple of our cardiologists seemed upset about missing the opportunity to discuss Whitehart’s research with him in person.“
One more second passed, and then Lawrence raised his wine to his lips. He smirked around the rim of the glass as he drained the last dredges of his drink, all in one go. The gesture didn’t seem to match with the Lawrence that Jeff had come to know this evening… But neither Alison nor Lynn said anything, so neither did Jeff.
“Well,” Lawrence said, as he set his emptied glass back down. His wide, sunny smile was firmly back in place now; so was the flush in his cheeks. “So much the better, I suppose. Now I’ll definitely have time for the new residents come January.”
“Right,” Lynn agreed, but Jeff could see that the smile she gave Lawrence in return was uneasy. When the conversation drifted onwards, to upcoming holiday plans, Jeff was quietly grateful.
Another hour or so went by, and while the party seemed to be winding down, it seemed that neither group was ready to leave just yet. Lynn and Alison were absorbed in a conversation about their shared work woes; Lawrence had excused himself a few minutes ago, heading for the club’s courtesy phones in the lobby to call back the on-duty doctor who had paged him. Jeff, for his part, was beginning to get a little stir-crazy in his chair, and the champagne and rum were both starting to catch up to him.
“I’ll be back in just a minute,” Jeff murmured to Lynn, as he touched her arm. Lynn glanced to him just long enough to nod, but she didn’t miss a beat in her conversation with Alison. As Jeff stood to head back towards the lobby, ready to search for the club’s restrooms, he swept his eyes over the grandiose architecture of the dining hall’s lofted ceilings. The gilt of the ceiling’s ornamental trim glimmered in the light thrown by the chandeliers.
It took Jeff a moment of blundering around in the lobby before he found the door to the men’s room, tucked surreptitiously into the wall around the corner from the club’s main entrance. As he swung open the door, Jeff saw that no expense had been spared, even for a bathroom. The walls were dark paneled-wood, and the room was warmly lit by faux-candelabra bulbs embedded every few feet in the walls. The row of urinals were unusually privacy-minded; between each one was a small divider wall, enclosing it in its own pseudo-cubby and obscuring it from the rest of the bathroom. Jeff chose the last urinal in the row and sighed as he unzipped. Behind him, he heard sniffling, and then the opening of one of the stall doors, but he paid no special attention to it.
”Get it together,” a voice hissed, low and almost venomous. Jeff frowned to himself as he shook off and began zipping his slacks back up. The other man must not have noticed Jeff when he came out of the stall. Was he sick? Or maybe… Jeff had heard sniffling. And doctors were rich, so maybe the guy had been snorting something…?
Jeff could feel the presence of the other man lingering in the room, and for a brief moment, he considered going into one of the stalls, to give his unknown companion his privacy until he left. But instead, Jeff slowly walked towards the end of the urinal row, in the direction of the countertop sinks. He just wouldn’t look at the other man, Jeff decided. He could just stare at the ground and wash his hands and leave, all without even acknowledging the other presence in the room.
But that plan fell apart as soon as it had been formed, because when Jeff rounded the corner to the sinks, his eyes drew to the second man like they were being pulled magnetically. There, clutching the marble countertop in his hands and leaning forward to glare at his reflection, was Lawrence. His blue eyes had gone as cold and dead as sea ice, and his mouth twitched into a snarl as he seethed at himself.
“Stop it,” Lawrence growled. “Just stop.”
Lawrence held his own eye contact for a few more seconds, and then he broke his gaze with a sigh; Jeff wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost the staring contest. Or if it mattered. Lawrence sniffed again and passed one hand quickly over his eyes. Gingerly, stepping as lightly as he could, Jeff approached the other sink, seated a comfortable few feet between himself and Lawrence. Jeff kept his eyes down, pretending he hadn’t seen any of what he just saw. Lawrence said nothing, and Jeff was beginning to think he was in the clear— until he turned on the water. Jeff heard Lawrence’s head whip over to look at him, even before he gathered the courage to raise his own eyes and look back. Lawrence’s frosty glare was fixed on him now, his expression hard and inscrutable. This close, Jeff could see a hint of red around the corners of Lawrence’s eyes.
“Oh, hey, Lawrence!” Jeff said, trying to keep his tone casual. Drunken anxiety flooded his system, and he stammered a bit before he spat out, “I-I didn’t see you there. I was wondering where you ended up at.”
“Jeff,” Lawrence said, after a long, terse moment. He sniffed one more time and then stood up straight. The muscles in Lawrence’s jaw tensed and flexed. “I was just… I was just wondering about something.”
Jeff frowned, his grasp on the conversation thrown off; he had been expecting Lawrence to make some excuse for himself, some explanation for why he’d been, by the looks of it, crying.
“Sure, pal,” Jeff replied, trying to keep his voice soft and gentle as he could manage. “What’s on your mind?”
He turned off the sink for the moment and turned to face Lawrence. Lawrence swayed for just a moment, before he quickly tightened his grip on the sink to aright himself. He really was drunk, Jeff realized with a small start.
“Do you… like being a father?” Lawrence asked.
“Huh?” Jeff laughed in surprise. “Of course I do,” he said. “Dylan is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and Lynn.”
A brief smile crossed Lawrence’s face, though it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.
“I see,” he said. There was an unmistakable sad note to his voice. He took a step closer to Jeff; Jeff began to step back, but then, somehow, Lawrence didn’t seem quite so threatening anymore.
“Did it make you… A-Are you… Happy?”
Jeff stilled, as Lawrence’s eyes searched his. Lawrence seemed truly desperate to know the answer.
“Yeah, Lawrence,” Jeff murmured slowly. “I’m happy. I was happy before Dylan, and I’m happy now.”
Lawrence’s face fell, and even his shoulders slumped. Jeff realized, out of nowhere, that Lawrence was wearing a heavy, woodsy cologne; with just the two of them in this one small room, it hung in the air like a fine incense. When he opened his mouth, Jeff thought he could taste it on his tongue.
“Do you think… maybe you don’t want children…?” Jeff hesitantly asked. That didn’t seem quite right, given their earlier conversation at the table— but then, Jeff wasn’t sure how else to interpret Lawrence’s sudden line of questioning. Lawrence groaned and tipped his head forward, resting his forehead in one palm.
“I do!” Lawrence said, his tone almost pleading. “I… I do. I just—”
Jeff tilted his head and stared at Lawrence, waiting for him to go on. Lawrence slowly raised his head, and when his eyes met Jeff’s, the glaciers there cracked open, revealing a sadness so deep that Lawrence must have been drowning in it. An anguished, strangled-sounding cry fell from Lawrence’s mouth, and he darted forward to Jeff. Jeff felt Lawrence’s hands settle, hot and heavy, on his shoulders, and then Lawrence crushed his lips to Jeff’s.
Jeff froze for a moment in Lawrence’s grasp. Being kissed by him was overwhelming; his lips were warm, soft, and desperate, and he dug his fingernails into Jeff’s shirt like he was trying to claw his way through it. Lawrence’s cologne seemed to permeate Jeff’s skin, bypassing directly to his brain— or maybe it was the rum. Either way, Jeff’s instincts took over before he could stop them. He let his eyes fall closed, and though he wasn’t brave enough to dare touching Lawrence, Jeff tilted his head to kiss him back. The light, yet rich combined tastes of red wine and champagne still clung to Lawrence’s mouth, making Jeff shudder. He opened his mouth impulsively, to lick the champagne off Lawrence—
But then, the gravity of what they were doing fell on Jeff. He flinched in Lawrence’s arms as the image of Lynn’s face, her beautiful dark skin and darker eyes, flashed through his brain. Jeff whimpered and broke the kiss, and in the very same instant, Lawrence seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in. He stepped away and released Jeff with such force that Jeff stumbled backwards, his back hitting the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Jeff stared wild-eyed at Lawrence, and he saw that Lawrence’s eyes were as wide as his was, their chests heaving in unison. A stray strand of hair had finally fallen loose into Lawrence’s face. Jeff said nothing; what on earth was there to say?
As the two of them stared at each other, Jeff saw a storm pass through Lawrence’s eyes, his jaw working as his nostrils flared. First he seemed hungry, then angry, then… Afraid? Then, Lawrence stood up straight and reached into his pocket. Jeff flinched.
“I-I… I shouldn’t have had that last drink,” Lawrence said. His voice was low, spat out like ashes. When he removed his hand from his pocket, he was holding his wallet. As Jeff watched him, Lawrence pulled out two crisp bills. Lawrence took Jeff’s hand, not looking into Jeff’s face anymore, and pressed the money there before Jeff could protest. Jeff couldn’t help glancing down, and he saw twin faces of Ben Franklin, both of them frowning back up at him.
“Lawrence, you d—” Jeff started, but when he looked up again, Lawrence had already turned his back on him.
“Please,” Lawrence said, so quiet that Jeff almost didn’t hear him at first. “Jeff, just… don’t. Please.”
And then, Lawrence straightened his spine, neatly brushed his hair back into place with one hand, and walked out of the bathroom, back to the party. He didn’t once look back at Jeff.
Jeff swallowed and took a second to breathe, trying to steady himself and organize his thoughts. He gazed sadly down at the cash in his hand, before finally, reluctantly, sliding it into his wallet. Maybe he could find a way to give it back to Lawrence sometime soon. When he looked at his reflection, Jeff was surprised to see the deep flush on his face. He sighed and slowly came back to the sink, to wash his hands and splash some cold water on his face. He took his time, to make sure that he and Lawrence didn’t come back to the table too closely together.
As he scrubbed his hands clean, Jeff couldn’t quite ignore the sheen of champagne taste on his lips, or the heavy, heady cologne that hung cloyingly over his clothes, hitting his tongue every time he opened his mouth.