The Story
By: KellyCRocker59
Part Three
Monday Morning
It's a Monday morning. It's too early, too bright, too busy, too loud, too…too much. It's Monday morning and Holden cannot handle it, because Monday mornings are forever marked as the worst moments in his life. As if to prove it, he's already wearing his coffee, courtesy of a cyclist pressing through traffic like it was their first triathlon. It very well may have been, but Holden will be damned if it's going to force him to waste coffee and dirty himself at the same time.
The office is quiet, which is a pleasant change from the bustling streets. Meetings leech what little life he had in him until lunch, when he is enthused to the point of optimism to enjoy his beautiful Greek salad and iced tea. He chats with some of his co-workers and it brightens his mood, but then he is once again dropped into the world of papers and reading and improving and the general tediousness of a 9 to 5. He had been on far too many business trips to have to deal with these things, he told himself again and again as he committed several numbers to memory, typing them across his computer screen amongst walls of text. But it was a slow time and he had to be in the office. Being in the office built character, or at least that was what one football playing, jersey wearing man had told him over dinner several nights back.
Holden was pressed to believe him; he had gotten out of the habit of working toward a goal, and this work was the perfect amount of busywork with the occasional spark of interest to keep him from becoming a housewife. He had romanticized his own career though, it seemed. He couldn't remember ever being this devoid of joy when sitting at his desk prior to his mini vacation during football season.
The day concluded and Holden called Sean from a cab. To his surprise, Sean told him to take the cab to their shared favorite Italian restaurant. It was only now reaching five thirty, but Holden agreed. Upon arriving, he found Sean had already gotten them a table. He seemed more animated than usual, and Holden found it infectious, alleviating the general dissatisfaction he felt for not deciding to stay in bed all day.
Sean took him by the hand as they left the restaurant, a gesture Paula had finally begun allowing a month ago. Leading him down the hectic streets and to a quaint ice cream parlor where they had shared a milkshake over a year ago, Sean sat Holden down and placed their orders on his own. Holden found himself admiring the bright colors and peering along at the vacant seats. This was not his typical Monday night; he was used to his sweats and college t-shirt, in front of the television.
Sean took a seat across from him with ice cream bowls in hand. Holden took his readily and found he devoured the dessert far more quickly than he should be comfortable. Sean was not much slower, and as they relaxed against the soft cushions of the booth, Sean began to say things that were out of place. He began reminiscing upon their first date, on what Holden cooked him when he invited Sean to his apartment. He was recalling the lost dog they had found and taken into care until the owner finally reclaimed it. Holden was bemused by the sudden revitalization of the past, but then Sean took his hand and pulled him out of the booth.
As Sean knelt and pulled a black box out of his pocket, Holden could feel the pieces unifying. He bit back a tear and swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding for the question. He only just managed to say yes before Sean was tackling him for a kiss.
No Regrets
Unlike Holden's forward thinking, politically correct, energy efficient parents, Sean's parents were not so accepting of him. From a very young age, he was told that he was special. When he was able to take a football across a field with minimal interception, this claim was made factually correct. Throughout high school, he was his mother's son, his father's crown jewel. He was lavished with love and praise, made to believe that his parents' love was unshakeable.
Then came college. With college, there was Toby. Toby was a cute English major who sat beside him in Honors Chemistry. Poor Toby was terrible at science, and Sean took it upon himself to offer study sessions. These study sessions somehow turned into tentative flirting then uncertain kisses, and finally wistful nights of lovemaking. Discovering another boy's body as he came into his own sexual identity left Sean flustered and obsessed.
So began his first love. Nights spent talking, days spent texting, weekends spent in hibernation between the sheets; it was an awakening that Sean had craved since he reached sexual maturity. He was so overcome with this alien experience that he decided he would bring Toby home with him for a day over winter break. When he announced this to his mom, his supportive, nurturing, kind mother, he did not expect the dial tone that followed.
And with love, came change. He had Toby, but he also had disownment from his parents. He clung to Toby like an insect to fruit on a hot summer day, and it was what ultimately broke their relationship. By the summer of his freshman year of college, he was housed in a home that had been sapped of love and replaced with cold distance.
As he grew up, he matured and forgave, though it was never again the same. His mother came to ignore the aspect of his life she did not appreciate, and his dad supported him until the subject arose. Their relationship became one of polite acknowledgment and habitual care. He had only one other boyfriend after Toby and before Holden, but it was like trying to lift off from a combat zone. So when he realized he should call his parents to tell them he was engaged to his boyfriend of five years whom they had yet to meet, he found his hesitance was justified.
Listening to the ring as he sat on his balcony, wrapped in sunlight, a cool numbness settled beneath his skin. His mom answered on the fourth ring. The hello was tender. When he made his identity known, the tone sifted the slightest, so slight he would not have noticed had he not been conditioned to recognize it.
"I have something to tell you."
She inquired for further information.
"I proposed to the man I've been dating for five years. He said yes. We're getting married."
He could feel the frail crack of his mother's voice, could sense the development of a response. She wanted to know the date. He told her it was not set. She did not inquire further.
"Do you want an invitation once we decide?" He asked, losing ground against his own apathy. She responded with a polite yes. He knew better than to hope for anything other than another call before the wedding.
Flood
Watching Holden sleep became a pastime for Sean once they began living together. The easy trace of Holden's hairline, the curve of his chin, the gentle hairs collecting along it. The other man was late to bed, late to rise, making it all the easier for Sean to tumble out of post-slumber daze and into the warm light of the sun across his lover's face with the turn of a shoulder.
Holden had a habit of hogging the sheets and in his heavy unconscious, he made for a reckless spooning partner. Sean once woke in the darkest hour of night to the sensation of being constricted, one of Holden's legs wrapped around him while another arm was strung over him, their bare skin practically woven together. He had managed to pry Holden's limbs off just enough to allow air to reach his lungs before settling back to sleep, content with being Holden's dream pillow.
Unlike Holden, Sean was slept light. Nightmares never found manifestation in his shallow dreaming; a heavy wind tossed his mind back into reality on any given night. When it did, he would untangle himself from Holden and go to the kitchen, dim lights illuminating his figure as he fixed tea. He would sit at the kitchen table or by the fireplace and fall into a deeper fantasy than any dream could conjure. He would see his life years in the future, would imagine children, Holden with greying hair and their friends gathered for some grand event.
These machinations would warm his mind as the tea soothed his body. He would find his consciousness settling back within his body as he stared outside at the material world, so permanent yet still so fleeting. Then came Holden's role.
"Sean, what…"
He would turn and there would be Holden, standing in one of Sean's t-shirts, a size too big and hanging off of him. He would scratch at his face, sometimes his head, always caught between perplexity and concern while unconsciously clawing his way out of whatever dream had loosened his mind from reality.
"Just couldn't sleep." Sean would answer, not awaiting the question. He would leave his mug at the table and stand, walking over to Holden, illuminated by the kitchen light. "Come on, babe; let's go back to bed."
"You alright?" Holden would ask, grabbing Sean's hand as if on cue and melding their fingers together. Sean would nod, never lying. Holden would peer at him for a moment as they stood shrouded in the dark, the perfect time to keep a secret, yet the worst time to escape Holden's worrying eye.
"Yeah, I promise." Sean would say, tugging at Holden's hand, leading them back to their bedroom.
Holden would get in bed and drag Sean down with him, the other man lingering over him, if just for a moment. Holden was oblivious always, eager to sleep again.
"Love you." Sean would whisper, carefully looping an arm over Holden's side.
"Love you too, Sean." Holden would mutter, nuzzling into a pillow while yanking Sean's arm more firmly around him.
Nights like these, Sean was haunted by so many demons. The ones that could not reach him in his slumber, the ones that would somehow hook into him and pull him to life and force him into confrontation. That was why he would find his place, and he would wait. He would wait for Holden to realize he was gone, and would wait for to see him wrapped in night and dim light, the picture of innocence. He was Sean's siren when he was lost in a tsunami, guiding him home. Holden was his tether, binding them and keeping him from all of his fears and enemies. Just one look, one word, and the storm in Sean's mind was calmed.
