Chapter 1 #2
A quick check showed it was five-thirty, so I might as well start making dinner. I liked eating early—one of the leftover habits from my Army career—and Forest seemed to have adapted to that habit because he always made sure to have dinner ready around six as well when it was his turn to cook.
“It’s gotten a lot better since he met Heath, I’ll tell you that.” I continued our conversation as I grabbed the potatoes from the fridge.
Forest was already filling a large pot with water.
“You don’t need to do that,” I told him.
“I figured I’d help you since we’re both here anyway.”
Cooking together. That was new. I liked it, probably more than I should, which was only more proof of how truly pathetic I was becoming. “Sure.”
I started peeling the potatoes as he defrosted the ground beef. “How was work today?”
He shrugged. “I like it. It’s a small community college, but I like that I get to build relationships with my students. And it’s very diverse.”
“You speak Spanish, right?”
He wiggled his hand. “Enough to get by, but I’m nowhere near fluent. But I can understand and make myself understood, so that’s good enough, I suppose.”
“I’m still learning. I picked up some phrases in the military since we had some Latino men, but they weren’t necessarily the most useful…
or appropriate. Sure, I can proposition women in Spanish, but first of all, I don’t play for their team, and second of all, I’m pretty sure the lewd language would mean they’d beat me over the head with a baseball bat. ”
Forest laughed. He had this melodious, full laugh that always made me happy, like a reward in and of itself. “You never know when it might come in handy.”
“For seducing women? Never. No offense to women because I think they’re amazing, but I’m one hundred percent gay. Well, close enough anyway.”
I’d finished peeling and cutting the potatoes and was now gathering herbs and spices for the meatballs.
Italian seasoning always worked, plus lots of garlic, of course, and onion powder.
Salt and pepper, obviously, and I’d also need mustard and bread crumbs.
Oh, and an egg. It was my grandma’s recipe, and her meatballs had been legendary.
“Same,” Forest said. “I’ve never been attracted to women. Like you said, I love them, but not like that.”
“I tried it once,” I said. “Just to see if I really was gay. I invited this woman on a date. I was on leave and she was interested, and in my defense, I was nineteen and perpetually horny, as most boys are at that age, so I didn’t see anything wrong in test-driving my sexuality.”
“You mean test-driving her.” Forest shot me a grin as he put water on for the green beans.
“Eh, same difference.” I had no idea why I was telling him this, but whatever.
Now that I had started, I might as well finish the story.
“But anyway, we went on a date, and I paid for the movie tickets and for dinner at this barbecue joint, and then we headed back to my car, where she started to make out with me. She could kiss, I’ll give her that, but that was about it.
Nothing about her soft curves did it for me, no matter how nice her breasts were.
She left me cold…or I should say, soft.”
That got a snort out of Forest. “That poor girl. How did she react?”
I winced at the memory. “By doubling her efforts. I ended up lying to her that I’d been on a mission and was exhausted. She bought it, I think. But I felt awful about it for years.”
Meanwhile, I’d worked all the herbs and spices into the ground beef, as well as the egg and bread crumbs. It had the right consistency now, a little sticky but not too wet, so I started making medium-sized balls.
“I never even tried,” Forest said, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched me. “I’ve known I was gay since I was a kid. Seemed senseless to deny it. And I had Creek to make sure no one gave me crap about it…including our father.”
His face clouded. I knew his father was still in prison for manslaughter and wouldn’t ever make it out alive due to added charges after he got into some trouble in prison.
Was this a topic I needed to avoid? I didn’t really think so, since he had brought it up himself.
“How old were you when he was arrested?”
He blinked, as if surprised I was asking that. Maybe he was. “Eight. Nine, when he was officially sentenced and I knew I’d never have to see him again.”
“Do you remember much of him?”
Another quick blink. “Erm, no. Not much. I never saw him again after he was arrested. I mostly remember Creek being there for me. I was heartbroken when he enlisted. Later, I understood why he did it, but at that time, I felt like he was abandoning me.”
“He needed the discipline,” I said, not wanting to reveal I knew exactly why Creek had signed up. He’d feared his temper was too much like his father’s and that he, too, would end up in prison.
“I know. And he made the right call. You straightened him out.”
“Not me,” I protested. “The system did. The discipline and the routine. The brotherhood.”
“You did,” Forest insisted. “When he came home on leave, you were all he talked about. You were his hero, his big example.”
Jesus, that made me uncomfortable. “I’m not a hero.”
“You’re a decorated Army veteran, are you not?”
“Doesn’t make me a hero.”
“And an EMT.”
“Still no hero.”
Forest clicked his tongue. “Well, I have a brother I admire a lot who says otherwise, so I’m gonna go with his judgment.”
Stubborn little shit, wasn’t he? I focused on browning the meatballs while keeping an eye on the potatoes.
“Anything interesting happen at your job this week?” Forest then asked, and I gratefully accepted the change of subject.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, though that’s not saying much since the ordinary here is not exactly normal. Like, we had a woman going into anaphylactic shock because her boyfriend didn’t take her peanut allergy seriously and kissed her after eating a Reese’s.”
Forest’s eyes widened. “For real? Did she survive?”
“She did, but only because her neighbor recognized what was happening and administered an EpiPen. Twice.”
“I hope she breaks up with him and then sues him into next Tuesday. He could’ve killed her.”
“Agreed. There are too many people out there who think a peanut allergy is more a preference than a life-and-death thing, and they get careless. Makes me so grateful I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Same, though…” When he didn’t continue, I looked at him sideways. He was staring into the distance, as if he were thinking hard.
“Though what?”
He startled. “Nothing. I mean, I’ve wondered lately if I’m maybe sensitive to gluten or something.”
Huh? Where was that coming from? He’d never mentioned that before. “Why? Are you having intestinal issues?”
“No, but… Maybe? It’s more that… I read that if you’re sensitive, gluten can cause a lot of physical problems, like inflammation. People who have certain chronic illnesses say they feel much better after cutting gluten from their diet.”
So he was having health concerns. I didn’t like that one bit, even if I could understand and respect his decision to not share more details.
“Well, tonight’s meal is relatively low on gluten because there’s only a small amount of bread crumbs in the meatballs, but starting tomorrow, we’ll go gluten-free for a week or two and see if that helps. ”
He stared at me. “Just like that?”
I shrugged, turning my attention back to the potatoes that were now definitely done. “It’s not that big of a deal. We’ll eat rice and potatoes and use gluten-free pasta. Maybe eat more beans and legumes or whatever. Easy enough to do.”
I drained the potatoes and dumped them into a bowl, putting the now-empty pot in the sink. Suddenly, Forest slung his arms around me and, for the second time that day, I was the recipient of a fierce hug.
Except this time, I didn’t mind so much.