"Oh, no." Martha gasped as she observed the dozens of cookies that she and Alex had made over the course of four hours.
"Hm?" Alex murmured, his brows furrowing.
He was so hungover. God, he was hungover. He had barely slept the night before. The room had been spinning too violently for sleep. He just clung to his mattress and prayed that he wouldn't throw up in his childhood bedroom. Now, the room was staying perfectly still, but Alex's head was throbbing. The smell of cookies was making his stomach churn. He was praying that Martha would soon be done so that he could crawl into his bed for the remainder of the day.
"We're out of flour." Martha sighed. Her bottom lip jutted out unhappily. She turned to look at Alex, as though he might secretly have bag of flour stashed somewhere.
"Hm." Alex murmured again.
He hoped that meant that the baking was finally over.
"I'm sure that Thomas has some flour." Martha continued, eying Alex pointedly. Alex avoided eye contact.
"Hm." He mumbled, this time quieter.
"I suppose I could have George go over and ask him…" Martha trailed off, her eyes venturing in the direction of the entryway to the kitchen.
"No," Alex grumbled, hanging his head in resignation. "I'll go to the store to pick some up."
"Oh, you don't have to buy it. I'm sure Thomas has plenty." Martha protested.
"You're going to be baking a lot more, right? It makes sense to just buy you another bag." Alex replied with a shrug.
He had no desire to speak to Thomas again. He vaguely remembered their conversation from the night before. He remembered telling Thomas that he was glad that Thomas' dad was dead. It was not the sort of thing that would break the ice after ten years.
"Oh, all right." Martha sighed regretfully.
"I'll be back in ten minutes." Alex promised her with a small smile. "George, I'm taking the truck!"
"Hmm." George assented from the living room.
"Oh, lord. The two of you are two peas in a pod." Martha hummed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in that dismayed way that only a true Southern lady could manage.
Alex grabbed George's keys from the small hook that hung next to the front door. He trudged to George's truck and started for the grocery store. It took all of Alex's focus not to doze off during the drive.
When he reached the grocery store, he was struck by an odd, creeping sense of familiarity. This was where John had bought his cigarettes throughout high school. He'd waited until Eleanor Burgess, a girl who always stared at him with moony eyes, was working the register. They both knew he wasn't old enough to buy cigarettes, but Eleanor would always let him buy them, anyway. Alex wondered vaguely if she'd ever gotten in trouble for it.
He'd frequented the grocery store during his driving classes, too. He and Lafayette would walk to the grocery store before they were to report to the small, square building in which their driver's education classes were held. They'd buy all kinds of ridiculous snacks, then eat throughout the lessons. Lafayette stole a pair of 'drunk goggles' during one of those classes.
He stepped through the door and looked around as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the harsh florescent lights.
It hadn't changed a bit.
The small, cramped Starbucks was still firmly in place beside the produce. A bored teenager scrolled through their phone behind the counter.
Alex quirked a small smile before starting for the aisle that boasted "baking supplies." He walked down the aisle, his eyes searching for the brand of flour that Martha typically used. He paused when he reached an expanse of empty shelving intended to house flour.
"Uh..." Alex looked around for an employee. He couldn't believe that there was no flour in the entire store.
He locked eyes with a young woman who looked somewhat familiar. She was wearing a green polo with the store's logo on it, paired with beige khakis. A nametag, placed just to the right of the collar of her shirt, glinted under the artificial lights.
"Hey," Alex tried to push aside his headache as he assumed an amicable tone that usually got him whatever he wanted. He smiled the sort of smile that Angelica Schuyler had once called 'unfair,' and 'disruptive.'
The young woman blinked in surprise. She remained where she was standing as Alex approached her.
"I'm sorry to bother you." Alex continued. He did his best to sound sincere. "I'm just looking for some flour and it looks like there's none on the shelves. Is there any in the back that you might be able to bring out for me? I hate to ask, but I'm in the middle of a baking project with some family and, well, it's tricky to bake without any flour."
The young woman's eyes dropped to Alex's hands, shoved in his pockets. Specifically, his left hand. Alex shifted just enough so that she could see his bare ring finger.
It was a trick he'd picked up after working opposition to a particularly friendly prosecutor.
"Oh." She looked back up at his face. Her expression was distracted. "We're really not supposed to..."
Alex's smile grew forcefully charismatic.
"I understand." He agreed in a low, soothing voice. "Rules are rules, right? Let me just give my mom a call and let her know that I'll give Target a try."
"Well..." The young woman's resolve weakened, as Alex knew that it would.
"Oh, god. Leave her alone." Thomas Jefferson's voice startled Alex out of his attempt to convince this young woman to sneak him the illicit bag of flour.
He turned around to see Thomas holding a bag of bird seed and a frozen pie crust. He rolled his eyes when Alex looked at him. A small smile played on his lips.
"Don't bother, Candice." Thomas addressed the young woman. Alex didn't recognize the name. "That's his politician smile. He only uses it to get his way. You should go finish stocking the yogurt."
The young woman, Candice, looked from Thomas to Alex, seemingly mortified. Alex glanced at her before returning his stare to Thomas. Candice mumbled some sort of excuse, then hurried off.
Alex had forgotten that Thomas had a description for his smile, too.
"Do you work here?" He asked Thomas.
Thomas shook his head, his smile fading somewhat.
"No. Candice is just my cousin." He replied. "I try to stop in to check on her every once in a while, in case some creep tries to flirt with her for a bag of flour."
"I wasn't flirting." Alex protested, his ears reddening. "I was asking politely."
Thomas looked at him skeptically.
That look.
Alex had forgotten how crazy that look could make him. Thomas had a way of saying more with his face than he could with words. Given how much Thomas could say with words, his expressions were damn near deafening.
"I was." Alex insisted.
He cringed at the petulant tone to his voice. Not even the best attorneys in New York could reduce him to childish petulance. Thomas was wasting his talents in Virginia.
"Okay." Thomas said, unconvinced. He shrugged and smiled patiently. "You don't need to justify yourself to me. It's hard to get anything around here this close to Christmas."
"Huh." Alex looked around at the sparsely stocked shelves. "I guess I'd never noticed that before."
"Anyway, I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing." Thomas said rather abruptly. He started for the only open cash register in the store. He glanced over his shoulder in Alex's direction. "It's good to see you, Alex."
For some inexplicable reason, Alex didn't want to terminate the conversation. It felt like the first genuine conversation he'd had in a while. All of his conversations with his New York acquaintances felt artificial in comparison.
"Hey," Alex said without knowing why. "Do you want to grab drinks or something tonight?"
Thomas turned around to look at him again. He did nothing to hide his confusion. Thomas always wore his heart on his sleeve that way.
"Just drinks." Alex felt compelled to explain himself. He could feel his ears reddening as he spoke. "I thought we could catch up and...I don't know. Maybe that's stupid."
He shook his head.
"Sure," Thomas said, still eying Alex warily. "We can grab drinks. Just to catch up, I mean."
Alex nodded, swallowing hard.
He couldn't remember the last time that he had had such difficulty talking to someone. Everything about talking to Thomas felt wrought with hidden landmines. He couldn't imagine what Thomas must think of him, after all of these years. He couldn't imagine why he cared after all of these years.
"Is the bar on Main Street still open? You know, the one with the patio?" Alex asked.
He'd snuck into that bar a few times during high school, with the assistance of a fake ID and the charm of John Laurens. They were caught every time, of course, but not before they'd enjoyed a beer or two.
Thomas quirked an eyebrow. He knew of Alex's past exploits at that bar.
"Yeah." He replied. "It's still open."
Alex nodded, trying very hard to keep a steady, casual tone. He didn't know why he was having such trouble speaking to Thomas, of all people.
"Want to shoot for nine o'clock?" He suggested.
He knew that George and Martha would be asleep by nine. Martha wouldn't be nearly as nosy as she would if she were fully awake.
"Sure." Thomas agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at the checkout lane. "I'll, uh, I'll see you then."
"Sure." Alex echoed.
He turned and started for the parking lot again. He'd forgotten all about the flour.
Nine o'clock rolled around and Alex found himself sitting alone at a table in the bar. It was too cold for the patio, so he had snagged a table near the window. He stared out it, rubbing his thumb against the condensation coating his whiskey glass absentmindedly.
He wondered if Thomas would think better of accepting his invitation. He wondered if he was destined to sit alone, waiting for someone who would not show. He wondered when he ought to accept that Thomas wasn't going to show up.
"Hey." Thomas arrived just as Alex was contemplating an exit strategy.
"Hey." Alex assumed an easy smile. He relaxed his posture against his chair. "I was beginning to think that you weren't going to come."
"I almost didn't." Thomas confessed with a sheepish smile and a shrug. "What are you drinking?"
"Whiskey and coke." Alex replied, glancing down at his drink. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'll get my own drink." Thomas shook his head. He turned around to look at the bar. It was crowded with people in their early twenties, all vying for the attention of the blue-haired bartender with a slew of tattoos and piercings. He then looked back at Alex, his eyes narrowing a bit. "How the hell did you get a drink?"
"I was polite." Alex responded with a shrug.
Thomas looked skeptical.
"You flirted with her." He accused Alex.
"I did not!" Alex exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not some old-timey Casanova who feels the need to flirt with everyone just to get a simple drink."
He had, in fact, tried to flirt with the bartender to get his drink. She hadn't been interested. It was nothing personal, she assured him, he just did not possess the sort of anatomy that she preferred. He then moved to complimenting one of her tattoos. They had a great discussion on Norse mythology. She was contemplating going to college to study mythology. Alex had promised to write her a letter of recommendation to NYU.
"You flirted with my cousin for a bag of flour not ten hours ago." Thomas reminded him with an arched eyebrow.
"I was not flirting with her." Alex huffed. "Look, just let me buy you the drink."
"All right." Thomas resigned, dropping into the seat across from Alex.
Alex rose from his own seat and strode across the bar.
"Hey, Victoria." Alex called over the din of a crowd of twenty-one year olds struggling to put in their complicated drink orders in the hopes of appearing experienced and sophisticated.
"Oh, hey." The bartender, Victoria, ignored the crowd of twenty-one year olds and approached Alex. She leaned across the bar with a wide smile. Two dimples framed her smile. "Do you need another whiskey and coke?"
"No, I'll have an, ah…" Alex turned around to look at Thomas. "Tom, what are you drinking?"
Thomas visibly cringed away from the unwanted attention.
"Just some wine." He said, not meeting Alex's gaze. "Whatever's easiest."
Alex rolled his eyes.
"He'll have a pinot noir." He told Victoria.
He remembered all of the summer nights when they would break into Thomas' mom's wine cellar. Thomas always went for the pinot noir. Alex always went for the champagne. He thought it would make him classy.
"Nice and easy." Victoria approved.
She grabbed a bottle and quickly poured Thomas a glass. Alex handed Victoria a ten dollar bill and urged her to keep the change. She would need it if she was going to return to school. She thanked him and handed him the wine glass. Alex returned to the table, handing Thomas the wine glass with a triumphant smile.
"See?" He boasted. "No flirting."
"Hm." Thomas hummed noncommittally. He took a sip of wine, watching Alex as he returned to his chair. "So, how have you been, Alex?"
Alex shrugged, unsure of how to answer Thomas' question. How could he summarize how he had been over the past ten years? Should he provide a timeline, or was Thomas looking for a more cumulative answer?
"Good." He ventured with an artificial smile.
"Good?" Thomas echoed, quirking his eyebrow and smiling slightly. "Come on. What have you been doing out in New York? I hear you're some sort of rich lawyer now. What kind of law do you practice?"
"Uh…whatever one of the partners puts on my desk, really." Alex replied sheepishly. "Mostly transactional work for businesses. It's really boring stuff - I promise you don't want to hear about my job."
"And that's where you met your…erm, fiance?" Thomas ventured.
Alex sighed, settling back in his seat. He took a long swig of his whiskey and coke.
He remembered that he had told Thomas the truth the night before. He set to work justifying himself.
"Yeah," He replied at length. "Eliza's father started the firm. He's one of the partners. His other daughters work there, too. There's Peggy, who works the front desk, and Angelica, who's a lawyer, like me. Well, not like me. Better than me, probably."
Thomas quirked an eyebrow. He took a sip of his own drink before he continued the conversation.
"Does Eliza know that you've been telling George and Martha that you're engaged?" He asked.
"No." Alex replied firmly.
"Does she know that you're gay?" Thomas then asked.
"I'm not -!" Alex looked around frantically, hoping that no one could overhear Thomas over the loud, thumping music of the bar. He leaned forward, his face red with embarrassment. "I'm not gay."
Thomas frowned, seemingly disappointed with something that he had said.
"Are you seeing anyone in New York?" He asked.
Alex thought fleetingly of the relationships he'd had over the years. There had been that one club owner, Roger, who had brought him to all of the best places in New York and offered him all sorts of designer drugs. They'd lasted just long enough for Alex to get a wardrobe full of gifted designer pieces and a mild cocaine addiction.
There had been Jane, a girl in Alex's Advanced Microeconomics class who always had the correct answers to the professor's questions. They did their schoolwork together. Alex spent most nights in her apartment. She had rich parents and an extremely nice apartment for a college student.
There had been Lee, the aspiring actor toiling as a waiter at one of the touristy restaurants in Times Square. God, he'd been good looking. Six-foot-two, a dimpled smile, and wavy brown hair that seemed to fall perfectly into place without any effort on Lee's part. Despite his good looks, he was incredibly self-deprecating and good-natured. They would always have dinner in Alex's cockroach-infested apartment. Lee never wanted to be seen out in public with Alex. His agent had told him that he couldn't make a career out of acting if he was openly gay. He didn't have the right 'look' for a gay actor. He had a look that would send straight women to the theaters in a frenzy. Alex stayed with Lee for two years, until it became obvious that neither of them would be able to introduce the other to their parents, much less pursue a more serious relationship.
Then there had been Angelica. In what was perhaps his worst career decision to date, Alex had slept with Angelica following their firm's Christmas party. She had just broken off her engagement with John Church, a Wall Street legacy with money to burn. Alex had just broken up with Lee - though, of course, no one at his firm had any idea that he'd been dating Lee in the first place. Alex had panicked the next day, worried that Angelica would report him to Human Resources and have him fired. Instead, she'd shown up to his office the following Monday for an encore. It had been a casual thing. They had both agreed that they were not looking for anything serious. They still slept together every once in a while. Neither of the other Schuyler sisters had any idea; something that Alex was immeasurably grateful for.
"No," Alex replied, trying to rid his mind of these thoughts. "I'm not seeing anyone."
"Oh, I didn't mean to…" Thomas' face reddened somewhat. "I only meant that…uh…I guess I didn't know if you were only dating women now."
Alex arched an eyebrow.
"That's not really any of your business." He replied stiffly.
"No, it's not." Thomas agreed, taking another sip of his wine. "Humor me."
Alex looked down at his whiskey glass. He could have left the bar, feigning outrage at Thomas' intrusive questions. He could have lied. He could have forcefully changed the subject to one that he was comfortable with.
"I've dated some women." He said, instead. "Some men. Not that it's any of your business."
"We've already agreed that it's none of my business." Thomas reminded Alex patiently. "Did you ever tell George that you were dating a man?"
"You know I haven't." Alex responded impatiently.
"Still?" Thomas frowned, swirling his wine around in his glass. "Why not?"
Alex shrugged.
"There's no need." He grumbled.
"But there's a need to tell him that you're engaged to your paralegal?" Thomas countered.
Alex scowled.
"George is proud of you." Thomas pressed. "He talks about you all the time. Martha, too. I don't think either of them would be any less proud of you if you were with a man rather than a woman."
"Have you been dating anyone?" Alex asked, ready to turn the tables on Thomas.
Thomas let out a small laugh.
"Come on." He said. "You know everyone in this town. Who would I possibly date?"
Alex smiled ruefully, despite his residual annoyance.
"Okay, let's not talk about dating." Thomas decided, draining his glass of wine. He set it down against the table and forced a smile. "Tell me about New York. Does it look the same as it does on TV?"
Alex snorted.
Being a snob about living in New York was the only thing that made New York rent prices worthwhile.
"It's nothing like TV." He said, though in actuality, some shows had gotten pretty close to accuracy. "There's a lot more tourists and a lot more trash."
Thomas wrinkled his nose.
"So, why do you live there?" He asked.
"Because it's New York." Alex replied, uncomprehending. "Where else would I live?"
"Here?" Thomas suggested as though it was perfectly obvious. "Minimal trash and people."
Alex shook his head, dismissing the notion immediately. Thomas visibly deflated.
"So, you think you'll stay in New York long-term?" He asked.
"I can't imagine where else I'd go." Alex replied, taking a drink of his whiskey. He wiped the lingering moisture from his lips with the back of his hand. "If I get married and have a few kids, maybe I'd move out of the city. You know, do the suburbs in Scarsdale and commute to work."
Thomas stared at him.
"What?" Alex asked, his brows furrowing.
Thomas shook his head.
"Nothing." He said, his tone suggesting otherwise. "Uh, so, your job. Do you like that?"
Alex shrugged.
"It pays the bills." He said.
"I bet you're good at it." Thomas persisted with a gentle, warm smile. It was the kind of smile that made Alex feel as though he was being wrapped up in a blanket. "You always were good at convincing people to do whatever you wanted them to."
Alex shrugged again.
"I'm okay at it." He said.
He was, in fact, really good at it.
"I've looked you up before." Thomas admitted, not quite meeting Alex's eyes. "I've seen all of the cases that you've won. You've argued before the Court of Appeals."
Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"You've looked me up?" He asked.
Thomas shrugged, looking more than a little embarrassed.
"I still care about you." He mumbled, not meeting Alex's eyes. Alex felt his ears go red. "I don't mean that I wasted away pining for you or anything like that, but…you know. We were friends. It's hard to stop caring about someone, just because they move away."
Alex considered this. He had not imagined that, while he was living out his mechanical sort of existence in New York, Thomas might be following him in Virginia. He had imagined that Thomas forgot about him when he was out of sight, like a child forgetting a favorite toy the moment it's placed on a high shelf.
"I didn't have to look you up." He admitted without knowing why. "Martha tells me what's new with you every time she calls me."
"What?" A smile slid across Thomas' face. "Really?"
Alex nodded, a hesitant smile playing on his lips.
"She calls me every Sunday afternoon." He professed. "She tells me what events your nonprofit is having and how nice your garden looks. She made me ship a box of canned goods to your food drive last autumn."
"No, she didn't." Thomas laughed, disbelieving. "I didn't know that! How did I not know that?"
"I didn't put my name on it." Alex explained, chuckling. "I didn't want you to think I'd lost my damn mind."
They both laughed. It felt good to laugh with Thomas. Alex had forgotten how much he'd liked Thomas' laugh.
Once their laughter subsided, Thomas smiled at Alex. It was a soft, warm kind of smile. It was the kind of smile that made Alex look away. He looked down at his whiskey glass, swirling what was left of the beverage.
"It's nice that Martha calls you every Sunday afternoon." Thomas said, seemingly unaffected by Alex's inability to meet his eyes. His tone remained warm.
Alex tilted his head to the side. He grimaced playfully, meeting Thomas' eyes again.
"I think it says more about my social life than I'd like it to." He replied.
He did not mention how he would refuse to meet anyone he was dating on Sundays because he knew that Martha would call. Every Sunday morning for two years, Lee would go to brunch by himself because Alex could not risk Martha overhearing the low timber of his voice.
"I'm sure that's not true. Everyone likes you." Thomas remarked, bringing the glass of wine to his lips. He shook his head slightly. "It's annoying, really."
"Hm." Alex rumbled, smiling. "I don't think that's true. If it is, my clients haven't gotten the memo."
"Clients." Thomas echoed, shaking his head again. "God, you sound so grown up."
"'Grown up'? You sound elderly." Alex countered, grinning.
Thomas laughed.
"I just mean, the last time I saw you, we were just kids." He replied, still laughing. "It's strange to see you here, now, as an adult."
Alex tried not to think about the last time that he had seen Thomas. He did not want to remember the way that Thomas had said "I love you," in that small, pleading voice of his.
"It's weird being here as an adult." Alex said, by way of sidestepping the subject. "I can't imagine how weird it is for you, living in your parents' old house as an adult."
Thomas shrugged, his face reddening slightly. Alex didn't know if it was from embarrassment or the alcohol. Thomas had never been able to hold his liquor; not even a small glass of wine.
"I'm not going to live there forever." Thomas said, as though he felt the need to explain himself to Alex. "I'm just saving up to move somewhere else, you know. Real estate prices and all of that."
Alex snorted.
"Tell me about it." He remarked. "I pay thousands of dollars a month for a one-bedroom apartment."
Thomas grimaced.
"I don't think I'll ever understand why you live there." He remarked.
Alex just shrugged with a good-natured smile.
"Can I get you another drink?" He asked, by way of changing the subject.
"Yeah." Thomas agreed, also smiling. "I'd like that."
Closing time found Alex and Thomas laughing at their table, surrounded by empty glasses. Thomas had consumed at least four glasses of wine, maybe more. Alex had lost track of how many whiskey glasses he'd been handed.
"Hey, guys." Victoria approached them with a bill and a tired expression. "We've already cleaned every other table here. We have to clean yours."
"Oh." Alex looked around absently. "Sorry about that. Here…"
He fished his wallet out of his pocket.
He handed Victoria his credit card - the fancy platinum one that he flashed whenever he took clients out to dinner. Victoria raised her eyebrows, her expression growing less annoyed.
"Are the bills separate, or together?" She asked.
"Together." Alex said, just as Thomas said "separate."
"Tom," Alex said, casting Thomas a small smile. "Let me get this."
Thomas nodded at length. He looked like he would rather argue with Alex over who would pay for his few glasses of wine, but was too embarrassed to do so in the presence of Victoria.
"Give yourself a good tip to compensate for this." Alex gestured towards the mess of glasses covering the table with an apologetic face. "Thanks for everything, Victoria."
"Sure thing." Victoria seemed much more amenable now. She afforded Alex a smile that might have been flirtatious on any other face, then sauntered off to process the card. Alex had no doubt that she would tip much higher than 20%.
"You didn't have to do that." Thomas remarked, drawing Alex's attention away from Victoria's retreating figure.
"Don't worry about it." Alex replied, a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. You can get the bill the next time we get drinks."
"There'll be a next time?" Thomas wondered.
There was no judgment in his voice. It was a genuine and sincere question.
"I think so." Alex replied.
He liked spending time with Thomas. He liked spending time with Thomas more than he liked spending time with anyone in New York. He might've even liked spending time with Thomas more than he had liked spending time with Lee when they had been together.
He felt like some version of himself that had been set in ice was beginning to thaw out for the first time in a decade.
"Okay." Thomas smiled uncertainly.
Alex smiled, too.
"Here's your card and your receipt." Victoria returned to the table and handed Alex his credit card and a receipt. Alex mumbled a thanks, then glanced at the receipt as he returned his credit card to his wallet. Victoria had only given herself a $30 tip. It was much less than he had expected her to give herself.
"You ready to go?" He asked Thomas.
Thomas nodded, rising from his seat. He shrugged on his coat - some puffy coat that swished with every step. It was the kind of coat you would expect a man in rural Virginia to own.
Alex glanced in Victoria's direction. She was wiping down the bar several feet away. Alex grabbed a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table before joining Thomas.
"What was that?" Thomas asked in a low voice as they walked out of the bar.
Alex shrugged, pulling on his own coat.
"She didn't give herself a big enough tip." He replied nonchalantly. "It's the holidays. I want to make sure that she has enough."
Thomas just stared at him, smiling in wonderment and quite possibly with affection.
"What?" Alex asked.
He didn't know what to make of Thomas looking at him that way.
They both walked past their cars. Neither of them were anywhere near sober enough to drive.
"Do you want to come over for a drink?" Thomas asked.
Alex arched an eyebrow at him. Thomas looked down at his feet and struggled to amend his question.
"Coffee, maybe." He said, not meeting Alex's eyes. "Or maybe something to eat."
Alex knew what Thomas was inviting him over for and it certainly was not coffee or anything to eat. It was a tempting offer. Alex wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep beside Thomas, the way that he had when he was eighteen and had the whole world at his feet.
But he was drunk and so was Thomas. He didn't trust himself to make a potentially enormous decision in his current state of mind. He couldn't bear to fuck this up a second time.
"I don't think so, Tom." He replied softly.
Thomas nodded, his sheepish smile fading. He kept looking down at his shoes.
"I should go." Alex remarked as George and Martha's house came into view. "I'll see you later."
He started for George and Martha's house before he changed his mind.