Chapter Text
“So, what’s it like?”
I turn over in bed, focus my eyes on Stevezie’s face, focus my ears on the cold afternoon rain dripping down the slanted window just above us in his residence upstairs. He’s shirtless, bottom half under the sheet. His hair is cowlicked and there’s a pinkish pillow mark on his left cheek.
“What’s what like?” I ask, smiling, blushing, pulling the sheet against my bare chest.
He grins and moves my hand away so he can place his palm over my heart. “This,” he whispers, his voice a puff of warm marshmallow.
I squint, squirm a little. “Oh, it’s you know.”
“I don’t know. I never carried for us before.”
I slide my hand over his and frown. “Oh did you want to?”
He shakes his head, still grinning. “Not if it’s not in the cards, of course. I was just curious how it felt.”
I sigh, a bit relieved, but also touched. “Well, it’s… heavy. Grounding. But also bright… and twisty, sort of. The heartstrings get squeezed. It’s a vulnerability, to carry a love for someone like this.”
Stevezie scoots closer to me, props his head up in one hand. “How do you mean?”
I trace invisible circles in his chest hair. “This was conceived in deepest affection, and… given time, several months, it must be fed, nurtured… trusted.” I stare into him, silently breathing.
He sighs, never breaks eye contact with me. “You’re thinking about what happened with… Ryan.”
I swallow, nod once, let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, now that we know anything can happen—”
“Are you really worried you might… lose faith somehow?” He lowers his voice, gives me a sheepish grimace. “In Denis?”
I shake my head, hold my breath a moment. “That’s the risk I took. When you make someone a hero, it destroys them.”
“Oh, I don’t know if it’s as cut and dry as that, Madam. Surely, I know how much he means to you, but you don’t worship him.”
“He’s only a humble Canadian, I know. He’s not a god, not even of the movies. He is capable of making mistakes, and probably will one day. Nobody’s perfect everyday.”
“See, you have a healthy respect. A healthy admiration.”
“Oh it’s healthy alright.”
He picks up my hand and holds it to his lips, gives my knuckles a quick kiss. “Then what are you worried about?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling them heat up behind their lids. “I want everything for him, and I’m not worried about him disappointing me so much as I am of him disappointing himself. If he falls short, I will recognize it. I will recognize it in him. If he’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”
With a little grunt of agreement, Stevezie slowly places my hand on the sliver of bed between us, tickles me on the skin between my fingers. “That is definitely… not my business. I didn’t mean to pry—”
“No, it’s OK, I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t trust you with my feelings.”
“I mean… I feel like the heartfelt stuff between you and Denis is not for me to know. That’s yours. Between you and him. Not for public consumption.”
I pause, blink at him, my smile tightening. He’s rarely this jealous. “Steve,” I say, touching his cheek, holding his gaze. “You know I feel the same for you.”
I feel the muscles in his face slacken under my touch. “Do you?”
“Yes, of course. But there’s a big difference between you and him.”
He squints, shrugs. “He’s taller?”
I stroke his fluffy hair and tilt my head. “I don’t have to worry about you. You’re always you. You always seem… happy. Denis is pretty happy too, but he’s also… not at peace.” I tilt my head the other way, trying to read his tired face. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
He purses his lips for a moment, then a chuckle bumbles out of him. “You’re not wrong, sweetheart. You’re really not.”
I let out a nervous giggle and kiss his cheek, allow him to pull me into his embrace as we cuddle under the covers. “See?” I say, nuzzling his ear with my nose. “You’re perfect.”
**************
“Happy birthday, my Mamba,” Stevezie says the next morning as he slips a few slices of challah french toast on the plate in front of me. I spent the night over, and I’m being treated to breakfast in his little kitchenette. The early sun is a mere yellow glow through the foggy windows. I reach out to pick up my mug of tea and hold it up to him. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re my hero.”
He unties his apron, tosses it on the back of his chair. “Now, don’t destroy me with all this hero worship, you hear?”
I chuckle, hold my other hand out to take his as he sits down at the little bistro table opposite me. “You’re indestructible.”
He shrugs, passes me the bottle of maple syrup. “Nah, I’m just young at heart.”
“That’s true,” I say, pouring syrup on my toast and cutting a piece. I take my first bite, then wait a moment for him to catch my gaze. I smile softly as I chew. “Thank you. For growing old with me.”
He kisses my knuckles, and his expression grows more serious. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve always been a bit old at heart, but you have the wisdom to allow others to give you youth.”
Involuntary tears peep out at the corners of my eyes. “Is that so?”
He nods, finishes chewing his food, then the smile returns. “We need you to keep us adulting, though. So it balances out. Some of us are becoming more childlike the older we get.”
“Already?”
“You haven’t noticed?”
“Well, Stephen and Jon definitely.”
He laughs. “Jeff and Andy and I get into some batshit when you don’t watch us.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“You and Ryan, as the youngest, are the most grown-up people around here most of the time. At least until Tommy or Denis show up.”
I chuckle to myself, wipe syrup from my chin. “Yeah, some people can’t help carrying their gravitas with them.” I take a sip of tea and sigh. “What about Kenny?”
“Oh, he’s in the middle. He can tilt either way. Depending on the situation.”
“True. Like he’s both the litmus test and the catalyst.”
Stevezie sits back, sips his coffee, eyes me strangely. “Funny how you selected husbands through the years to tweak the formula.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t have a grand master plan or anything. I just… listened to my heart in the moment.”
“And now…” He leans forward again, stabs up another bite of sticky toast on his fork. “Perhaps the recipe is complete.”
“Perhaps. At least in the husband department.”
He sips more of his coffee, winks at me over the edge of the cup. “So, it’s your birthday. Are you sure you don’t want to snatch a little treat for yourself? You’ve had a couple of lookers hanging around for months just itching for a quickie.”
I blush, surprised at how I’m partly offended by his cheek. But I’m the one acting out of character for the first time in years. “I dunno. Every time I get a bit lusty, it just… beds itself back down. Like I’ve said… I prefer the familiar over the novel.”
“Well, I’m not complaining,” Stevezie says, his eyes twinkling. “It’s sweet that you’ve retreated into our collective embrace here. We might even get used to it.”
I smile at him, for him, and with him, even though I feel the little lump of guilt inside my heart, like a piece of grit growing into a misshappen pearl after all these years. Suddenly, I remember that the only way to spot test if a pearl is real is to scrape it lightly with your teeth.
“You know what?” I say, pretending complete nonchalance. “Maybe I’ll ask Pedro out on a date.”
My husband lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, why not? He’s pleasant enough to hang out with, anyway. I could do with getting to know him better.”
He studies me carefully, checking for every tell. “Well, don’t let Penélope find out, then.”
“She’s in love with Guillermo now anyway,” I say with a laugh. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. It was my idea just now, right?”
“Right.” I stare at him, already chiding myself for considering that I may be calling his bluff. I don’t want to believe it’s a bluff, but I also want it to be. I fish my phone from my pocket and smile, compose a little text to Pedro: Take a birthday girl out on a date today?