A Last Sweet Taste

Amanda was on the other side of the States now, off to experience $12,000 a year's worth of cup ramen and sleepless nights. Dadsona sat alone on the bench under his backyard cherry blossom tree to think. As much as he already missed Amanda, he had trouble keeping his mind off of someone else. Someone who must be as miserable and alone right about now as he felt.

Dadsona knew a loveless marriage when he saw one. He had been living in one himself for almost 10 years. He knew what it meant to try to stay together for your children. It meant that they got to wake up at 5 a.m. to raised voices before being packed up for school. It meant that time spent together as a family felt forced. It meant they had to play messenger when you and your spouse were especially cross. It meant they would have to choose sides against one of the people that brought them into the world sometimes. Maybe he should have warned Joseph that these kind of self-sacrificial ways of living never turn out the way you plan. Joseph probably would have just written the warning off as a tactless attempt to get back into his pants—a game Joseph knew well enough, it seemed.

Dadsona had to smile to himself a little thinking about that man and his practiced little game. He wondered how much Joseph had to bribe the coast guard to carry on like this. It would have been almost a pleasant thought if not for all of Joseph's guilt. He wished he could sit Joseph down on this bench and let him confess everything, get it all off of his chest, and help him work through his feelings to find some sort of relief from the burden of his double life. It was too late for that now. The probability that Joseph would have another serious talk with him ever again was as close to zero as you could get without insulting Bayes Theorem.

It was getting late. The sounds of crickets were multiplying. Dadsona pushed himself up from the bench and wandered inside with his thoughts to make dinner.

While peeking in the fridge for leftovers, he spotted a little plate covered with foil. It must have been something of Amanda's. Dadsona never used foil directly on food because he read somewhere once that …. Something about…. Not being… healthy. Still, good food shouldn't go to waste, and Amanda wasn't going to just hop on a jet plane for a tiny plate of…

Dadsona peeled back the foil. Underneath was the brownie from Joseph's bake sale. Pristine. Untouched. As perfect and loaded with sugar as the day it was baked. He drew in a sharp breath of awe, then closed his eyes and inhaled its faint chocolate scent. He remembered Joseph pretending to improvise the recipe, and smiled again. No real person measures ½ teaspoon of salt out while "Just winging it."

Joseph's duplicity wasn't something Dadsona disapproved of, in fact it became something endearing about him. It was fun to know a secret, and the feeling of having exclusive access to something hidden was one small thrill that hanging around Joseph gave him. What was that Jack Sparrow said about always trusting a dishonest man to be dishonest? Their rapport was kind of like that.

He remembered watching Joseph charm dozens of parishioners at that sale. God, that fox had a silver tongue if ever there was one. He could probably convince a turtle to let him borrow its shell, if turtles could understand middle-aged men in sweaters. Dadsona liked to think he played one level higher than Joseph when it came to motive perception, but he knew he was clearly outmatched at persuasion.

Dadsona picked up the brownie from the little paper plate. It was pretty cold from sitting in the back of the fridge that entire time. He popped it in the microwave for a few seconds. The result was hot and gooey, and Dadsona moaned as it slid down his throat. Why did Joseph have to be so good at sex and simultaneously too conflicted to just let himself have what he wanted. Dadsona was a player at times, sure, but never had he seen someone as ravenous as Joseph when his plan came to fruition. He rubbed his shoulders. There were probably still bite marks back there.

His eyes rolled back into his head just thinking about it. This couldn't really be how things ended between them, could it? It wasn't fair. Joseph deserved better. Hell, even Mary deserved to have a husband that was happy and cheating rather than one that was faithful and hated himself. At this point, Dadsona had completely forgotten about making dinner, and just sprawled out on the couch with his thoughts and an episode of Pimp That Medieval Tapestry.

Much uncertainty and a few shots later, Dadsona found himself on Joseph's doorstep, attempting…. Something. Anything.

"I know what you're going to ask," He gazed longingly at Dadsona with a sad smile, "Knowing how this goes as I do, of course it's inevitable that you ask. But the answer is no. And it's going to stay no."

"Joseph, I-"

"Best not to-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Don't worry. We can overcome this and become better men for it."

Dadsona shifted his weight uncomfortably, "That's a lie and you know it."

"A lie that I desperately cling to, my kindred soul." Joseph bowed his head. "See you on Sunday."

He closed the door.

"Not even a last sweet taste," Dadsona murmured to the porch step. This was really happening. This was the end of what they had. Fine. Nothing to be done. But the days to come would feel like walking past the delicious scent of a bake sale with no money in his pockets. And he would know his scent was tempting Joseph, too.