Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

KYLE COULDN’Tbelieve his good fortune in finding out Vic had a website in need of some renovations.

Back at the office, he spent a good part of the afternoon clicking through Vic’s site, browsing its nooks and crannies, gradually drafting a comprehensive plan. Not only the necessities, but from a design standpoint, Vic’s website should reflect him as a person. Maybe a tasteful textile overlay in the background; maybe the ‘i’ in Vic’s name could be a scarf; maybe add some stained-glass designs onto the home page. The loading symbol could be knitting needles, actively purling the user onto the next page! He’d have to e-mail Vic about that.

Kyle briefly considered offering his services for free, but he didn’t want to imply that Vic was a “starving artist.” Especially with that one middle-aged woman giving him such a hard time. Instead, he decided on a steep discount—one that acknowledged that Kyle was an experienced professional but included a “friends and family” factor in the pricing.

He had the contract ready in a matter of hours but waited until the end of his workday to send it.

The rest of his work went by smoothly. There was a certain surety in his actions, a new confidence in how he replied to his clients and checked the boxes. He felt energetic. He felt alive.

Kyle stretched in his computer chair at the end of the day, enjoying the satisfying pop of a couple of joints. Then he flinched, seeing a pair of eyes peeking at him from over the wall. “Jan. I thought we talked about you greeting me when you come to my desk.”

Jan sniffed. Her large, magnified eyes scanned him up and down. “You look five years younger,” she observed. “You actually ate lunch today, didn’t you?”

Kyle stared at her, shrugging on his coat. “Yes, Jan, I ate. Lobster, as a matter of fact. Delicious.”

“Good boy,” she said in a satisfied tone, as if her years-long vendetta against his meal-skipping had finally broken him of the habit. Her face disappeared from the wall.

Kyle chuckled under his breath and walked to the elevator, the gift-wrapped scarf tucked under his arm.

“YOU’RE HOMEearly.”

Zach’s bare feet dangled from his chair as he clicked around on the computer. It was some sort of racing game—he liked to put on his headphones and listen to music while he drove laps in the virtual world.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, stomping the snow from his shoes. “Yes, Dad, I wanted to get home before curfew. I didn’t want to be grounded again.”

“I thought you had a date.” Zach frowned at him, pausing his game with his headphones around his neck.

At that moment Alice walked down the stairs, a book held aloft in her hand. “What are you doing home?”

“Well, ma’am. I live here.” Kyle grinned and took off his coat, hanging it on the hook. “It was more of a lunch thing. Not really a date, but we talked a little and had a good time. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yet.” Alice crossed her arms. “What’s in the box?”

Kyle pulled the present behind himself, as if she hadn’t already spotted it. “If I give it to you early, can you drop the Spanish Inquisition for the night?” It was only fair. Zach had gotten a pair of swanky new shoes early when he’d practically walked his to pieces. The old pair looked like they were talking by the time Kyle cracked and gave him that Christmas present early.

Alice feigned a session of complex thinking, bringing her free hand up to tap at her chin. “That might be acceptable.”

Zach turned in his chair. “Isn’t the Spanish Inquisition the one that Edgar Allen Poe said strapped a guy to a table with that swinging ax thing?”

Oh good Heavens. “Who read my eight-year-old ThePit and the Pendulum?”

“It didn’t even scare me.” Zach protested, swinging his legs before hopping out of the chair to join his father and sister at the bottom of the stairs. “It was cool.”

“Mr. Munn did it.” Alice took the box from Kyle, undoing the satin ribbon around it. She always liked to keep the ribbons to use in her hair. “First, he just read us The Raven, but Zach said that wasn’t scary, so Mr. Munn tried a couple of others.”

“He also told us this one about a guy who got trapped in a wall. With wine!” Zach told him.

Kyle sighed.

Alice opened the box and gasped softly. “Whoa.” She held the scarf up to the light, watching the design shift colors depending on how she held it. “It looks like a dragonfly!”

Kyle smiled. “There. Now you’ve both had an early Christmas present.” He crouched to untie his shoes and looked back up at Alice, who had wrapped the scarf around her neck but was staring at a small card.

“Vic Burgess Designs,” she read aloud. “Is this where you got your scarf?”

Kyle nodded. His heart skipped a beat at how perceptive his daughter seemed to be. But it was near the holidays—going shopping at the Snow Circus was expected, wasn’t it? “It is. Now, how about some dinner, eh?”

FOR THEnext week, Kyle returned to the Snow Circus at every lunch break. Vic had been quick to send back the signed contract, deposit, and admin information for his website, so Kyle wanted to brainstorm ideas.

He was excited about the project, babbling on about firewalls and streaming speed and hexcodes before Vic held up a hand to him. “Be kind, rewind, explain it in layman’s terms, please.”

Oh. That meant he was interested enough to want to understand. Too many times, people’s eyes glazed over when Kyle started talking tech. But Vic actually engaged and asked questions. He seemed more eager to understand than most of his clients, despite having little to no background in coding.

Once, a patron approached Kyle, thinking he was part of the market staff. “Oh, I thought you helped run this booth.” they said. “I see you here almost every day.”

He blushed at that. He and Vic both chuckled, as if in on the same joke.

Kyle liked Vic. He really, really liked Vic. He was quick and witty—he loved literature almost as much as he loved art. He was understanding and warm-hearted, always responding with genuine curiosity and laughter at Kyle’s words. They loved swapping stories, usually funny stories from where Vic had lived versus Kyle’s experiences growing up in a town that hardly anyone ever left.

Kyle even started sharing Lloyd stories. “Someone actually got so mad at him that they threw a sandwich at him on the job.”

Vic did a double take. “A sandwich? What—?”

Kyle nodded, laughing a little. “He’s always been a bit of a grouch. He was tearing someone up for dog-earing pages—for a book they’d paid for, mind you. If it was a library book, maybe I’d see it, but…, Anyway, he started yelling that it was like the burning of the Library of Alexandria.”

“He did not.”

“Oh, he did. I saw the security footage. The person just happened to have a sub sandwich they’d apparently just bought, got mad, and threw it at him. He wasn’t hurt. His son, for years afterward, would call it the ‘hoagie headshot.’” Sometimes he felt bad for poking fun at Lloyd. But as much as Mr. Munn crabbed about other people, it felt fair to poke at him every now and again. It was nothing Kyle wouldn’t gladly say to his face, anyway. “Of course, that was ten years ago. He’s homebound in his old age but is nice enough to watch the kids when I’m at work.”

“Oh. You don’t live with anyone else who…?”

Kyle caught what he was asking. Of course, he’d never said he was single. “Oh, no. It’s just me and the kids.”

“Oh.” Kyle wasn’t sure if he imagined the lighter note in Vic’s voice.

“Kyle Zigler, is that you?”

Kyle had said good-bye to Vic at the end of his lunch break and was nearly out of the market when he heard a familiar voice. He turned, smiling when he saw Wesley Munn waving to him as he approached.

Wesley was Lloyd’s only son. He’d been one of the unfortunate souls who worked at the severely micro-managed bookstore before going off to college in Maryland. He and Kyle had always been friends. The camaraderie built on being both exasperated and amused by Lloyd was a strong one. Wesley had short black hair and a goatee. He was solidly built, with a round and cheerful face and lively brown eyes. “Oh, you came back for the holidays this time?” Kyle said. “Well, hey, thanks for braving the small-town Hallmark season.”

“Just got in today.” Wesley walked beside him, putting his arm around Kyle’s shoulders as they left the market. “Speaking of Hallmark, who’s Mr. Flamboyant-Booth-Vendor I saw you talking to?”

“Oh, it’s n—” Kyle began to protest, but Wesley shook his head.

“No, no, no. I was just talking to Amber in the food booth. You’ve been in his stall every day this week, talking--” He made quotey fingers. “--To golden boy. Come on, spill the beans.”

“There’s no beans to spill.” Kyle’s voice cracked. He could dodge his children’s questions, he could dodge his coworkers’ questions, but his best friend of twenty years? It was hopeless. “I—It’s… not official or anything. We’ve been working on his website. We just met the other day, so….”

“Well, good for you.” Wesley said, waving his arm out in front of him as if mapping the horizon of Kyle’s romantic hopes. “Apparently, you’re the only man hanging out at that booth and talking to Mr. Out-of-Town.”

Kyle wondered how many names Wes would give Vic before he cracked and told him on his own. “It could still be in a professional capacity.”

“Yeah, no, Amber told me you two are always snuggled together, heads tipped close. I thought moving slow was a lesbian stereotype.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh. “I told him I was bisexual. I told him I was single. He has my e-mail address.”

“Great.” Wesley said sarcastically. “In just a few days’ time, you’ve done a little less work than the average Grindr profile.”

Kyle resisted the urge to groan. He would have the only straight friend with a working knowledge of Grindr. “Why is everyone trying to be my relationship coach? I don’t even have a relationship yet.”

“The words you’re thinking of, my friend, are love guru.”

Kyle grimaced. “When are you going back to Maryland again? It’s tonight, isn’t it?”

Wesley clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Kyle, Kyle, Kyle…. You have got to allow yourself to get back out there. Why are you only meeting this guy over lunch? He’s a potential boyfriend, not a bank teller.”

“I’m not exactly free for dinner . The kids don’t have school on the weekends. They’re almost off for break themselves.”

Wesley waved that away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the kids sledding on Saturday, and you come here and meet your new friend after his shift. Whaddaya say?” His time in Maryland had actually endowed him with a bit of a New England accent. Kyle was tempted to make him say “chow-dah” next.

“Wes, you don’t have to do that.” he protested. “You’re on vacation.”

“Right, and no one goes sledding or skating on vacation? Come on.” Wesley gave Kyle a good shake of the shoulders, rocking him back and forth as they walked enough that Kyle had to correct his balance to keep from stumbling. Wesley lowered his voice. “Listen. I know Julie really messed you up for a long time, but that was on her, not you. You did nothing wrong.”

“That’s not what she said,” Kyle said, hoping that sounded as breezy as he meant it to.

Wesley shook his head. They were already on the street where Kyle’s humble office building sat like a bookend at the end of a shelf. “Go there for lunch tomorrow, ask him out on Saturday. Maybe go closer to sunset for a change, eh?” Wesley drew Kyle into a hug. He’d always been one of Kyle’s more touchy-feely friends, but Kyle had grown used to it.

Kyle had to admit to a wisp of fear. He couldn’t help but think he was opening himself to get hurt again. But then he thought of Vic, the way he smiled from head to toe, the way his brown eyes looked like honey in the right light.

Maybe some things were worth the risk.