"We became good friends after that . . . "
Since they fought often, Yao and Francois "made up" often.
Basically, them making up consisted of Francois realizing that he couldn't have sex with Yao when he was angry with him and apologizing by giving him money. He had recieved $900 so far from Francois "making up". Yao never spent the money. It wasn't either of theirs to spend, it was Matthews money, so he kept it in a bank account for Matthew on the day that he realized his brother had completely and royally screwed him over.
Despite the money, Yao never forgave Francois. He might have forgiven him the first and second time, but after that, never. He didn't make it obvious. That would have just pissed the Frenchman off.
Francois always wanted to have make up sex after their fights. Like I said before, the main reason he apologized was because he got too horny and didn't want to take care of the problem himself. Why would he when he had a perfectly good toy in the other room? Yao was too afraid to say no. Honestly, Francois probably would have gone through with it even if he had said "no".
The first few times they had make up sex, it was terrible. Absolutely terrible. With the man who had given him a black eye pounding into him, he felt disgusting.
Some people were really into that, too. Pain turned them on. Yao thought maybe he'd be into that sort of thing at one time, but there was nothing sexy about the man you trusted, the man you thought loved you, shoving his lousy dick into you and telling you, with no hint of dishonesty, what a whore you were for getting hard when his clumsy hands curled around you.
Yao didn't usually cry. He didn't focus on the grunts or the slapping skin. His eyes stayed glued on a water stain on the ceiling. Sometimes he came, but not very often. It wasn't that he liked it, it was just difficult to not do so sometimes. It didn't feel good, either. It felt like someone had just forced it out of him. Like torture. Like a nightmare.
It felt a little like what Yao imagined having sex with your cousin would feel like. That was such a gross metaphor, but there was no better way to describe it than that. It felt that wrong.
Francois came, as always, but Yao didn't this time. He had just taken it like he always did. He thought about little things while Francois was fucking him. The restaurant. What he was going to get Mei for her birthday. Probably a pair of boots and a comforter set. He thought about what the carousel at the park needed to be fully restored. Definitely needed more paint. He thought a little about Ivan, too. He made a grocery list in his head. Milk. Bread. Peanut butter. Bananas. Eggs.
When Francois was done, he got up and left to take a shower, even though Yao was the one who really needed a shower and the only other bathroom was in the basement. Yao sighed and wiped himself off with a rag from the kitchen. He dressed, grabbed his phone, and looked at the lit screen.
It was only Tuesday. Sunday couldn't come soon enough.
On Sunday afternoon, the sun was shining brighter than it had in weeks. It had been so cold lately. It snowed on Friday, but most of it was melted by now. The grass at the park wasn't so much grass as it was mud. Yao was glad he'd worn his short black boots today as he climbed the hill to the carousel. He almost fell down the hill a few times since the boots were completely smooth on the bottom and he had just about no traction, but he made it up with only one mud-covered knee.
Ivan was already there working on the control panel. He seemed really into it, too.
He looked different than he had the other day, Yao noted. He wasn't wearing a suit this time. He had jeans on and a different coat. But he still had that scarf around his neck. His hat was gone, revealing a full head of light blondish-grey hair.
Yao was nervous about approaching him. I mean, he technically didn't know this man. He could be a killer or a rapist or something. I mean, Yao was pretty sure that he wasn't, but still. Better safe than sorry. That's what they said, at least. But it apparently wasn't what Yao said because he walked up to the carousel anyway.
He hoped he was allowed to be here. He hoped Ivan had told him he would be here today in hopes that Yao would show up. He didn't want to show up somewhere where he wasn't wanted. Was he supposed to say hi? Or what? Would that seem weird? Yao pursed his slightly chapped lips.
"Hello," Yao said politely. Ivan looked up and smiled. That was a good sign, he thought. But on the other hand, this man seemed to smile a lot.
"I wasn't actually expecting to see you here, Yao," he began. Yao's shoulders slumped. Oh. So he hadn't invited him. "But I'm happy you came," he finished with an almost too bright grin.
Yao smiled back. "Well, I thought it would be interesting to see. And you seem like an interesting guy. Quick question, though. You're not a serial killer, right?"
He had been joking, of course, but Ivan's grin visibly faltered. Yao thought he'd offended him at first. "Kidding. I was . . . I'm sorry, it was stupid. I just . . . I know you aren't a killer, I was just trying to be funny."
"I think your reaction to your own bad joke attempt was pretty funny, actually. If you must know, I'm not a serial killer. Unless you count honey nut cheerios and cinnamon toast crunch. Ba-dum-tsss," he said. Yao covered up a grin with his fingers.
"That joke might have actually hurt me," he said, chuckling. Ivan smiled and opened the control panel. "Okay, Yao, I'm done with bad jokes. For now. Could you do a favor for me?"
Yao stepped up onto the platform as Ivan peered into the metal box. It looked so confusing on the inside. He always forgot how tricky it was to actually work this thing. It wasn't just a button you pushed. It was all these wires and levers and it was so easy to break the carousel even more.
"As long as it doesn't have anything to do with that," he said, pointing at the box. Ivan pointed up to the lightbulbs on the ceiling and grabbed two wires.
"You won't have to mess around with this. I need you to get up next to one of the bulbs and tell me if you see it turning on at all. Even just a faint glow," he said. He pressed two wires together while Yao climbed up onto a green horse. He stood up on the fake pink saddle and looked at the lights. They were covered in a dusty sheen. Spider webs dangled in his face. This thing really needed to be cleaned. Yao dusted a bulb off with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked at the coil inside the bulb. "Is it supposed to be lit up now?"
Ivan looked up. He was supposed to be looking at the wires, but Yao was a sight to behold. He was such an interesting man. But he noticed something new about him this time. He hadn't really looked at Yao today, and now that he did, he couldn't ignore the bruise on the smaller mans cheekbone. It had looked like a blush in the light, but in the shade, it was a light purplish-yellow colour.
"Ivan?" Yao noticed the way the taller man studied him and just knew he was staring at his cheek. He knew he should have covered it up.
Ivan forced a smile. "Yes, I'm sorry. They're supposed to be lit. Are they lit at all? I think they might have all blown last time."
Yao gulped nervously. "Uh, no. They're out." He sat down on the fake horse, but didn't completely get off. A seat was a seat, and he didn't feel like standing. Plus, he was sitting with his legs to one side instead of straddling it, so it didn't feel as awkward. He leaned his bruised cheek against the golden bar to cover it from Ivan. "Tell me if you need anything else, Ivan."
Ivan nodded and typed something into his phone. He continued to work on the wires in the box. After a while, he said, "So, Yao, what do you do for a living? If you don't mind my asking, that is."
Yao looked up. "I don't mind. I actually don't work very much. Just in the afternoon and evenings on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Though sometimes I come in when I'm bored and I'll help, but I don't get paid for it. I work at my cousin's restaurant downtown. I don't know if you've heard of it. It's called Mimi's Silk Road. It's pretty good, I guess. We get good reviews, usually."
"Oh. I've seen it but I've never been inside. Maybe I'll try it sometime. What do you do there?"
Yao traced the paint on the horse and yawned. "A little bit of everything. Cooking is my favorite, though. Sometimes I have to deliver food and that's hell. We get some real creeps. I'd honestly rather talk about what you do. You said you design carousels?"
Ivan nodded, hands still carefully picking at wires in the box. "Yes. It's a rewarding job in many ways. I'd recommend it to anyone who appreciates beauty and art. I restore carousels, too, and help build them, though I have people to build them for me. I usually am the one who does the sketch of the carousel and its parts. I colour it and send it to whoever is buying it. They say yay or nay, and if nay, I redraw the entire thing to fit their description. If they say yay, the workers begin to build it. Though I do a good amount of the painting. We get a lot of business from people who want just a horse, either a new one or a restored one. They put them in their houses for decoration. Restoring the horses and carriages and things like that is very enjoyable."
Yao nodded. He was jealous of Ivan for getting to have such an amazing job. He probably made a good chunk of money, too, and all he did for it was what he loved. It just wasn't fair.
"It sounds great. Your family must be proud," he said almost sadly. Ivan nodded and stood up, brushing dust off of his hands.
"Yes, my sister is proud, I think," he said. Yao looked at the sky to his left. It was turning pink. "Just your sister? You don't think the rest of them are proud?"
Ivan typed something into his phone a second time and put it in his back pocket. "I think they'd be proud if they were still alive." He said it so casually that it took Yao a minute to realize what he'd just said. Questions and apologies poured out of his mouth.
"I'm so sorry. Is it just you and your sister? I mean, I . . . I didn't, er, I don't mean to pry, I apologize, really, I just-"
"It's okay. Honestly, it's been so many years. And to answer your question, yes, it's just my sister and I. But she's great, Yao. She's the best sister in the world. You'd like her. She works with me as my secretary. She keeps me on task."
Yao nodded and looked away, taking some time to think over what he'd learned about Ivan. There was one question he was genuinely curious about.
"So you aren't married, either?"
Ivan shook his head. "No. It's hard for me to connect with people. I haven't met anyone that has wanted to share their life with me, either. Which is fine. I'm only 27, so I have plenty of time."
Yao raised an eyebrow at his age. "Twenty-seven? I would have thought you were older." Ivan laughed at that. "Da, I know. Everyone says that. Sometimes I think I'm going to look 100 when I'm 70, and that isn't going to be very fun."
Yao grinned. "Well, I'm Chinese, and we hit 30 and stay looking 30 until we turn 60. At that point, it just all falls apart within a matter of seconds. It's like, uh, what is that . . . Cinderella? Yeah. The clock strikes midnight on your 60th birthday and all of a sudden your hair is grey and your face looks like a used leather bag."
"Oh my God," Ivan said, laughing. "That's . . . that's something Yao." Ivan adjusted his scarf and smiled. "This was very nice. You're an interesting man."
Yao blushed. "Not really, but thank you, Ivan. What's your last name, anyway? I know, it is out of the blue."
"No, you're fine. It's Braginski."
Yao stood up and stepped off of the carousel. "Were you born in Russia?"
Ivan stepped off of the carousel as well. The sun had fallen under the trees by now and the moon was shining in the sky. "Yes. St. Petersburg, actually. I lived there until I was 16. Then I moved to Chicago with my sister. I lived in Chicago for four years or so before moving here."
Ivan, with Yao at his side listening to his words, started down the hill towards the parking lot. "I moved here because my sister asked me to. Her husband was offered a job at the military academy here so they had to pack up and leave, and she worries about me very much. I wasn't going to leave Chicago, but I'm glad I did. I've always wanted to work on carousels and I found a good space to do that here. It is also good that I'm not likely to get shot here." Ivan stopped and smiled at Yao. "And I've met you. I wouldn't have met you if I was still in Chicago, Yao, and I have a feeling you are someone worth meeting. What is your last name, by the way?"
"Wang. Yao Wang. Well, sort of. I guess it is technically Wang Yao, because we put the last name first. And thank you, by the way. For the, uh, the comment. I'm glad you think I'm someone worth meeting. You definitely are. I mean, not in a weird way. I just, er, I think you're a good man. From what I can tell, at least."
"A good man? Compared to who?" He asked this so knowingly that it made Yao cringe. Yao really didn't feel comfortable going into this conversation. He was sure at this point that Ivan had heard Francois yelling the other day. And then that damn bruise on his cheek. "Yao," he continued, "I do what any decent person would do. I do not think you should call me a good man for doing what I'm supposed to do naturally. People are naturally good. I strongly believe that."
Yao nodded. "Oh." He couldn't imagine Francois being naturally good at all. Ivan was the only good thing he had seen in months. He wasn't sure if he believed that people were naturally good.
"I'll walk you to your car, Yao," Ivan said. Yao's eyes widened.
"Uh, I mean, you don't have to. Not that I don't want you to! I just parked way over there and I don't want you to have to backtrack."
"You're embarassed about the car you drive?"
Shit. Was it that obvious? Yao shoved his hands into his coat pockets and slid an old nickel between his fingers nervously. He needed something to do with his hands. He hated having free hands when he was nervous. "I, well, it's pretty bad, Ivan. I guess it would be alright if you walked me to my car, but don't make fun. Just follow me."
Ivan, still smiling, followed Yao. They talked a little about how cloudy it had been and about Yao's job some more. Before Yao got into his car, he remembered something he wanted to ask Ivan. "Ivan, you never answered that question the other day. The one about the difference between the horses on the carousel."
Ivan opened Yao's door for him. "Goodbye, Yao. You'll stay safe, da?"
Yao pouted. "You're not going to answer the question? I want to know! You're acting so cryptic about it."
Ivan smiled playfully and shut Yao's door. Yao smirked, started his car, and rolled down his window. "I see. Goodbye, Ivan."
"Bye, Yao," the Russian said, already walking towards his own car.
As Yao drove out of the park that day, he couldn't help but feel a certain emptiness.
To Be Continued . . . .