Chapter Ten | Daniel

Ethan had told me to come to the back door of the coffee shop. Last night, during our date, he'd invited me to run an errand with him today. I didn't mind giving up my Sunday morning for him.

I found him in an impeccably clean kitchen with small paper bags open in front of him on a stainless-steel table, and trays of baked goods that he was picking through.

He spotted me, made his way over, held my face, and kissed me. Never in a million years would I grow weary of his lips on mine. I tugged him into a hug and clung to him.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Ethan said as he stroked my face.

I smiled at him. "Late night?" He looked tired. I'd slept over, holding him until he had to wake, crawling away from me before the sun came up. We'd had a few hours of sleep together.

Ethan snorted and laughed. "No, someone kept me up too late."

Still in my arms, I rocked him back and forth. "I thought you liked to be up ."

"I do, but my cock has no common sense when it comes to you."

I patted his ass. "Do you need me to help you pack up these goodies?"

"Yup." Ethan pulled away and went back to the table he had been working at. "One item per bag." I joined him and we worked together packing everything .

I helped him carry three small boxes to his car.

I'd driven past the notorious section of Pandora before, where we were headed. When Ethan told me he delivered leftover baked goods there twice a week, I had tumbled further for him.

Baseline, Ethan was simply a nice guy. He had multiple layers of the quality.

We pulled onto a slip road, smack in the middle of the chaos. People wandered back and forth in front of Ethan's car, some looking like disheveled shuffling zombies as we tried to drive to where there was enough room to park. A fear response shivered up my spine.

I had to check it. Ethan did this twice a week. He wouldn't if it was dangerous.

I hoped.

We pulled in across the road from what looked to be the main building. My passenger door was nearly pressed against an encampment tent's wall. I managed to squeeze out.

Just to the left of the doors to the building, an enormous truck with the city's logo on the side was parked. Standing on the sidewalk, a man with a giant pressure washer nozzle, intense noisy spray, washing down the dirty pavement. There was garbage everywhere and it was all being washed onto the street; I'm assuming to be picked up by city maintenance workers.

"Just look past it," Ethan said. "There aren't enough garbage cans out here." He nudged me and I followed him inside the building into an open foyer; a large table at one end and a bank of plexiglass I assumed shielded the workers beyond.

"Hey, sunshine man!" One section of plexiglass slid open. Out peered a burly, red-haired bearded man, a smile beaming on his face as if he was seeing his best friend in the world.

Sunshine man ?

I smiled. It suited Ethan.

"Mostly muffins today," said Ethan as he walked to the table. The man emerged from a doorway near it. I followed with my two boxes, set them down, and began lifting the individual paper bags out and arranging them the same as Ethan was doing.

Ethan touched my arm. "Daniel, this is Vincent. He runs the place." He stepped closer and put his head on my shoulder. "Vincent, this is Daniel." He kissed my cheek. "My guy."

My guy?

My heart fluttered with excitement. Had we come that far? We'd only been seeing each other for a few weeks. In those weeks, something unexpected was happening between us. We were molding together into a single beating heart. I had an issue, though. And it was a huge one.

During a break in our sex marathon after Ethan did that photo shoot, he told me how Carlos had wanted to fuck him and that he'd turned him down because of me.

Shockingly, I'd felt at odds with his decision. Not that I was afraid of Ethan taking a step toward commitment with me. I wanted that. All of that. I wanted to be his guy . What bothered me was that Ethan had turned down an opportunity to have a little fun and be made to feel good.

The emotion had made me realize something.

I wanted the world for him, and I'd be arrogant to think I could give him that on my own. Feeling this way, considering an open relationship was new to me. Ethan was such a free spirit; I didn't want to pin him down. It would be like clipping the wings of a butterfly to keep it. It would be cruel and destructive to the beauty that had drawn me to Ethan in the first place.

It was a topic we were going to need to discuss as we became more serious .

"Pleasure to meet you," I said to Vincent and shook his hand. "You have your hands full here."

Vincent smiled at me. "Day by day."

"Bakery … man!" A loud slurring voice filled the room. Dragging an overstuffed duffel bag with him was a man with a mohawk who looked like he'd been dragged through the mud. It had been raining, so that was to be expected given he was probably sleeping outside.

I couldn't help but notice his hands were black with grime. Seeing that made me wonder about his access to basic hygiene. Washing his hands and brushing his teeth were probably a luxury.

"Hey, Lucas!" Ethan strolled across the room and pounded the man on the shoulder. "I don't have any cookies today, but I do have some chocolate chip muffins."

It was like what Ethan said didn't register. The man, Lucas, stared into the distance, his eyes glazed over. He stumbled a little and refocused on Ethan's face. "What?"

"I have a muffin you'll like."

Lucas scrubbed his face with his hand as if to force his mind to pay attention.

"Okay." He stumbled again.

"I'm going to have to ask you to take it outside, Lucas," Vincent said. "You know the rules. You can't be in here if you've been using. Turn it around and go back outside."

Lucas' head snapped up and he charged at Vincent. "Fuck you!"

I stepped forward to grab Ethan, my heartbeat in my throat. The man was wrecked—stoned on something. A bit out of his mind. Now, he appeared to be dangerous.

Vincent stopped Lucas' advance by putting his hands on Lucas' shoulders. He gently turned Lucas to face the door. "You swearing at me isn't going to get you anywhere. Out. "

Lucas struggled out of his grip and burst back out through the door, bag in tow.

"He forgot his muffin," Ethan said and began to dig through the paper bags. He found what he was looking for and headed for the door. He looked over his shoulder at me. "Coming?"

I rushed to join Ethan. "Are you crazy? You can't go after him."

"He won't have gone far." Ethan tugged on my arm. "Just stay aware of your surroundings. Don't shove your way through groupings of people. Stay with me. You'll be fine."

I followed Ethan outside. There was a group of men milling around halfway down the block. I recognized Lucas' hair hidden under a baseball cap that he must have just put on.

"Please, tell me you don't do this very often," I said. "Come out here on your own."

"I don't tend to."

"Good. This Lucas, though … he's too aggressive to be around."

"I've been with Lucas plenty of times when he's like this. He's just worked up."

"Jeezus, Ethan." I kept up with him. He stopped a few feet back from the men. They took notice of our presence as I stood with Ethan. A few wandered away. Lucas approached us.

Ethan held out the bag. "You forgot your muffin."

Lucas smirked, the most his vacant face could offer. "Thanks, Bakery … Man."

"Mind if we visit with you?" Ethan asked. I looked over my shoulder, assessing where Ethan's car was in relation to where we were. Someone was sitting on the ground near his car, clicking a lighter beneath a glass pipe, smoking who knows what. I turned back to Ethan and Lucas.

"Sure," Lucas said and wandered over to a wall, and slid down to the wet dirty pavement .

Ethan sat beside him, knees bent, hands resting on them.

Fuck.

I sat too.

"How'd you end up down here, Lucas?" Ethan asked.

Lucas grunted. "Fucking … doctors."

"What did they do?"

"It's what they … didn't do … that's the problem." Lucas dug around in his jacket pocket, produced a piece of a cigarette, and lit it. The putrid smoke surrounded us.

"What didn't they do?"

"I was … a roofer. Fell … off. Hurt … my back." It was hard to understand him over the slurring speech and incredibly low volume. I was half expecting him to pass out in front of us.

It occurred to me what had happened.

"The doctors wouldn't give you pain medication?" I asked.

Lucas snorted and smiled. "Said … it was … too … addictive."

"You turned to the street for relief?" asked Ethan.

"It was … either fentanyl … or kill myself. So … much pain."

I leaned forward. "Did you have a family?"

Lucas furrowed his brow. "Wife … kids. Forget … sometimes." His head nodded forward. He caught himself, jerked up, then his head dipped again and stayed there this time.

"He's out." Ethan rose to his feet. "We should go."

We made our way to Ethan's car and climbed in. We sat in silence for many minutes, staring out through the windshield at a community of misery and destitution.

"Fuck," I said. "I had no idea it was this bad."

"They all have a story. It's the first time I've heard Lucas'. It's heartbreaking. "

"It could happen to any of us."

"It could." Ethan reached for my hand and clung to it. "It's so important to remember what we have and how lucky we are to have the people we do in our lives."

I raised our joined hands and kissed his knuckles. "Can I come over again tonight?" I smiled at him. "I promise to let you sleep. But I'm desperate to hold you … to feel you against me."

Ethan hummed. "I'd like that."

He started the car and we drove back to the coffee shop. We were quiet, our thoughts still whirring as I followed him to the back door. Our kiss was tender, burgeoning with a passion we hadn't uncovered in each other yet. It contained seeds. Sprinklings of little seeds that might grow.

I did not doubt if they did take hold, the garden would be breathtaking.

It was mid-week so it shouldn't be too busy. I found if I arrived around dinner time, I could sometimes find a parking spot in the limited spaces at the care home.

I didn't visit my mom often. But it was time. It had been almost two weeks. I had to prepare myself for the visit. This was the woman who had allowed my dad to beat me as a child.

After parking my car, I walked to the entrance doors. Inside sat a greeter of sorts. I was asked to sign the visitor book and offered a blue medical mask if I wanted one.

I declined.

I wandered down the hallway of the first floor. It was littered with elderly people in wheelchairs and using walkers. The dining room had a few partaking in a cup of coffee or tea.

My mom was on the third floor. The elevator took forever but finally came. I sighed. I felt obligated to visit my mom, but I didn't feel much attachment to her. I'm not sure how old I was when my dad started beating me. I couldn't remember a time when he hadn't. That changed when I was a teenager and started to fight back. Fight back and try to protect my mom.

My dad died when I was in my 30s. Heart attack. We were free of him. For years, I'd had a good relationship with my mom. We went for walks together. Shopping. Dinner. I shared everything with her. And she was so supportive. Loved me. She'd become like a good friend.

Then dementia crept in, and her personality changed.

Now, she hated me.

I knocked on her door. It was locked. "Mom, it's me!" I could hear her behind the door, shuffling along, and then she unlocked it and swung it open.

"Oh, great." She turned away from me. "The asshole is here."

"Nice to see you too, Mom." I took my usual spot in a reclining chair. She sat across from me in a bucket armchair that I had brought from her apartment when I moved her out.

I set a bag of grapes on her dresser. "Brought you some grapes."

"I don't want them."

"You love grapes."

"I'm not able to …" She frowned. "I'm dead."

I sighed. She said that a lot while I was with her. "You're not dead."

"Then you need to kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you, Mom. I'll end up in jail."

She looked toward her full closet and pointed at it. "There's a white one with a twist."

"A twist of what?"

"The thing … right there."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

My mom sighed. "I have no clothes."

"Mom, you have at least ten new shirts that you picked out at the store last month. "

She rose and walked to the closet. She fingered a few of the shirts. "I don't like these."

"I'll take you shopping again." I hoped she'd forget I said that. I hated taking her out. Guaranteed during an outing, she'd break down crying. Plus, she often threatened to jump out of my moving car. The most fun was when she refused to go back into the care home on our return.

She wandered to the bathroom door. "They're mean to me."

"Who?"

"Those people."

"What people? The care aides?"

"It's your fault." My mom shook her finger at me. "I hate it here."

"Where am I supposed to put you? You can't live on your own."

She came back and sat on her bed. "I'm scared." She patted the mattress. "I lie here and cry." She stood and straightened the quilt. "This blanket is terrible. I'm cold."

"Then why don't you ask for another blanket?"

She stared at me but didn't answer as if the suggestion didn't register.

It probably hadn't.

The door opened and the care aide, Christine, popped her head in. "Dinner time."

Mom scowled as she left us. "What does he want?"

My shoulders tensed. "Mom, we've talked about this. Christine is a woman." A woman who was one of the kindest and most patient people I'd had the pleasure of meeting. She was good to my mom. She put up with her. Her moods, anger, lashing out, and generally aggressive behaviour.

And her transphobia.

"She-he doesn't sound like a woman."

The misgendering was beyond annoying .

"You're going to make me angry," I said.

"Then kill me."

"For fuck's sake," I whispered beneath my breath. "Let's get you to dinner."

She wandered back and forth in her room, looking for who knows what, then plopped down in her chair and took off one of her shoes. She glared at me and threw it across the room.

"Why did you do that?" I retrieved the shoe and handed it to her.

"Everything is worse when you're here."

"Good to know. Put your shoe on." I waited for her to comply then led her by the arm to the dining room. Her plate was set out on the table. A nondescript protein item sat at its centre.

It made me feel guilty. I often felt that way. Not taking her into my home had been a difficult decision, but the health authority wasn't willing to care for her for the number of hours I needed them to so I could go to work. She couldn't be left alone. I had investigated private care, but the expense would have put me and my mom into bankruptcy. Provincial care had been the only option. The food wasn't great, but her room was large and comfortable, and there were people to care for her, organizing her day and making sure she was safe. It was the best I could do.

One of the care aides brought me a chair and I sat beside my mom while she picked at her food and drank her coffee. She slammed her cup down and scowled at me.

"Coffee is terrible here."

"I'll bring you a cappuccino next time I come in for a visit."

She stabbed at some overcooked carrot pieces. "I'm dead."

It was a constant theme. I understood it. It must be terrifying to feel your faculties slipping away from you. My mom was very aware that she was declining, and it frightened her.

Being dead was the best way she could describe what she was going through.

Despite our history, it broke my heart.

After dinner, I sat with my mom in her room as she nodded off in her chair. The registered nurse, Laurel, came in with my mom's evening medication.

"How's she doing?" I asked.

"She's having difficulty with her mood. The doctor increased the meds to calm her down."

"I notice her legs are still swollen."

"Oh. I didn't know. I'll tell the doctor." I gritted my teeth. Had no one noticed that my mom's legs were swollen? Why should I be the one to point it out? I nearly rolled my eyes.

Laurel touched my mom's shoulder. "Samantha."

My mom stirred and opened her eyes. "What do you want?"

"It's time for your medication, dear."

It took a few seconds until my mom opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful of jam that contained her crushed pills. The nurse gave her a paper cup of water to wash it down.

My mom pointed at her closet after the nurse left. "Look at those. Just look at them."

"Mom, stop with the clothes. I have news."

She rose and went to the closet, gripping the edge of each shirt in turn.

"I'm seeing someone, Mom." She looked at me. I had her attention for the moment. "I'm seeing a man." She frowned at me.

"Why?"

"Because I really like him."

My mom went back to flipping through her clothes. "You hate me. "

"No, I don't, Mom. Why would you say that? Because of the man I'm seeing?"

"I don't care about him."

"Then why would you think I hate you?"

She glared at me, and I swear to God, she hissed. There was cold malice in her eyes. "You want me dead. You want to take my money."

Nope. I was at my limit for visiting her. It was exhausting. There was only one way for me to get out of there without her clinging to me and crying. I needed to tuck her into bed.

"How about a nap," I said.

"Where?" She looked around. "On the floor?"

"No, Mom. On the bed."

She scanned the room. "Where's that?"

"Right here." I turned down the top blanket. "Let's get you in." She was always tired after dinner, so it usually wasn't an issue to get her into bed. She climbed in and I covered her up.

"Bye, Mom." I kissed her on the forehead.

She didn't respond. Just closed her eyes.

Back in my car, I had to take a minute to decompress. I was stressed. I wanted the comfort of Ethan's smile and his animated voice. And the joy of his cheerful shirts and socks.

I needed him.

Ethan was the only desire of my heart. It had beat itself into an intensity of affection that bordered on something frightening. My life had been upended, tumbling into discovering a new level of emotion revealing I'd never experienced a profound devotion like this before.

I gripped the steering wheel.

I hadn't. I had never felt myself free falling for someone before. I couldn't pull a rip cord to slow my descent. My mind and body refused to do it. I was enjoying the ride too much.

I trusted Ethan to catch me.

I fished my phone out of my pocket .

Me: Hey, babe.

Ethan: Hey, gorgeous.

Me: Can I take you bowling tonight?

Ethan: Are looking for a bit of entertainment laughing at someone?

Me: Ha ha. I don't care how well you bowl. I want to do something fun with you.

Ethan: Can I bring my car and stay at your place after?

Me: I'd love that. See you at 6:30 at the lanes in Langford.

Ethan: See you there. kiss emoji

Me: kiss emojikiss emojikiss emoji

Ethan: Oh, yum. Covered in kisses.

Me: I could survive solely on the feel of your lips.

Ethan: Swoon. See you at 6:30.

I didn't have time to go home for a quick shower. I would need my bowling shoes, though. I didn't like to rent shoes at the alley unless I absolutely had to.

I drove quickly and nipped into my house, then took the highway to Langford. It was a route I knew well. One practice and one game a week meant I was at this bowling alley often.

It felt significant to let Ethan into this part of my life.

Ethan was waiting outside the doors when I pulled up. As usual, he took the breath right out of me. The beaming smile he directed at me rolled through me like a shockwave.

"After you." I held the door open for him .

"Thank you, kind sir," Ethan teased then leaned against me as we stepped into the foyer. "Well, this is slightly overwhelming. I don't remember it being so noisy."

I rubbed his back.

"Let's get you some shoes and pay for a few games. Best out of three?"

"You're pretty funny, you know that?" Ethan stroked my arm. "I'll be lucky if I hit anything other than the pin things in the lane next to ours."

"You'll do fine. I'll help you."

After we were organized, we found our lane and set up. We put on our shoes, and I placed my ball in the ball return. Ethan raised his eyebrows at me. "What? I have my own ball."

"You take this seriously."

"Not tonight. Tonight is about fun. I'll take the first turn, so you can see how to do it."

Ethan snickered, patted my chest, and seated himself as I lifted my ball and bowled a strike. He was up, smiling, and springing on his toes when I turned back to him. I could see by the look on his face, he wanted to kiss me. Instead, he bounded up to me and clung to my biceps.

"That was so sexy."

I laughed and shook my head. "You're a funny one."

"Okay. My turn." That's not how it worked. I still had one more throw in my frame. But there was no reason in the world that we needed to play by the rules. Not tonight. Not with Ethan.

Ethan lifted a ball from the return. "Help me."

The entire game was comical. It really was. Ethan was not a natural. His ball spent more time in the gutter than anywhere else. Failing badly didn't put him off. He'd squeal and leap around, clinging to me whenever he hit even one pin. I don't think I've ever smiled so hard .

Ethan leaned his back against my chest as his ball made its lazy way down the lane. He squirmed against me. "Maybe I shouldn't have worn slinky manties tonight."

I purred against his neck. "Which ones are you wearing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ethan laughed. "They're riding up on me."

"Two minutes in the bathroom and I could free them from your perfect ass."

Ethan groaned. "Don't tempt me."

"Daniel?"

I turned to the familiar voice. "Lance. I didn't think you'd be down here tonight." Our bowling team had a practice tomorrow. Lance must be putting in extra time.

Lance jerked his head up. "At first I thought you were bowling with your son. That's evidently not the case. Who is this guy? Please tell me it's not what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like." I put my arm around Ethan. "This is Ethan." I took a huge, damned leap. "He's my boyfriend." Ethan pressed hard against my side. I hadn't screwed up.

At least, I didn't think so.

Lance tipped his head but didn't say anything. After a few moments, he grunted, spun on his heel, and strode off.

"Who was that?" Ethan brushed his hand up my chest to my pec above my heart.

"One of the guys on my bowling team."

He drew his finger down my jawline. "Is me being your boyfriend going to be a problem?"

I studied his eyes. "I didn't overstep with the boyfriend thing?"

"Feels right to me."

"Good. Me too." I had planned on opening a conversation with Ethan about our relationship status soon. This was a much faster way to get there. He was my first boyfriend .

And I needed him.

"Let's get out of here," I said and retrieved my ball from the return.

Arriving in different cars, we almost didn't make it from the driveway into my house. We were all over each other. Not caring if we were giving the neighbours a show. After bursting through my front door, Ethan hauled me to the couch and pushed me to sit on it.

And lay across my lap.