George pressed Andi closer to his chest, softly stroking his back, barely touching enough to feel the tension in the lean muscles. There was so much to unpack here, things even a qualified therapist would need time to unravel, and George wasn’t that, but he was all Andi could get because talking to a professional was so out of the question, the possibility didn’t even exist. “If this is your wish and how you see it, I’m honored and grateful, and we can start going through her things tomorrow. We’ll go as slow as you need, and if you want to close that door again, then that’s okay too. Because I am at home here, I know where I belong, and I’m a patient man. So many things have been taken from you because of your geschenk, and I’m not going to add to that. I respect you and I love you, and may I add, I see this whole situation a little differently than you. To me, being with you is already the ultimate prize. Having my own room is just a minor detail for me.”
If possible, Andi snuggled even closer to him. “Thank you.” His lover didn’t say anything more, and it wasn’t needed.
They understood each other.
CHAPTER 22
NEW BEGINNINGS IN OLD ROOMS
The next morning, Andi woke when George came back from his morning run. It was still way too early, not even seven a.m. Because of the heat, George got up at five, an hour Andi only knew from the worst cases and nightmares. How anybody could willingly drag themselves up to do sports, of all things, was way beyond Andi’s grasp. Well, nobody was perfect and even George had to have some flaws.
The silverfish were especially active this morning, telling him how George entered the house, leaving his running shoes on the rack next to the door—a new installment because apparently just leaving the shoes on the ground there wasn’t enough. They had to be in order as well. He walked along the floor into the living room, where he did some stretching against the wall. The silverfish reported how sweaty and very healthy he was. His heartbeat was robust, already slowing down. He was that fit, his electric fields a soft, rhythmic buzz that almost lulled Andi back to sleep.
After stretching, George went to the kitchen to start breakfast. He hated showering while he was still actively sweating, claiming he felt gross even after the shower, and if possible, he had breakfast first, waiting to dry. Andi didn’t mind. If he thought about it, there were a few things he minded about George and those had more to do with work than their day-to-day life together.
The obnoxious kale smoothie was prepared, and the silverfish didn’t have an opinion about it, which was okay because Andi had enough of that for an army. That stuff was disgusting. Not disgusting was the oatmeal with plant milk. Today, it seemed to be made with almond milk, as they had various flavors to pick from, store-bought, but Andi had seen George looking into options to make them at home because his man didn’t like all the additional ingredients companies put in their products. The oatmeal was topped with hemp and chia seeds, not Andi’s favorites, and because George knew him, there were also hazelnuts and walnuts to make the super healthy seeds more palatable. A plate with various sliced fruit, apples, strawberries, melon, and banana and a pot of chamomile tea completed the setup.
When George started pouring the smoothie, aka the swill, into a tall glass, Andi knew it was time to get up and start the day. He left the bed, did his morning business, and lumbered down the stairs into the kitchen. George greeted him with a kiss and a soft ‘good morning, dear,’ which Andi answered in kind before he sat down on the kitchen island. George put the plate with the fruit in the middle, then handed Andi one of the bowls with the oatmeal, along with a cup of steaming tea.
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” George winked, emptied the smoothie, put the glass in the sink, and sat down with his own bowl.
“How was your run?”
“Nice. Relaxing.” George took a spoonful of oatmeal, chewing slowly. After swallowing, he smiled. “You didn’t follow me?”
Andi shook his head. “I was too tired.” Sometimes, when he was aware George was going, he would follow him through the senses of the arthropods. It was a good exercise, made easier by an object of focus he knew so well.
George reached over the island to touch Andi’s arm. “I meant what I said yesterday, dear. We can close the door anytime.”
Andi sighed. He wanted to close that door. He didn’t want to close that door. It had long been coming, and he was glad he had somebody to do it with him. “I know. Thank you. But…it’s time. I can feel it.”
And he could, in a way he would never be able to express with words, for they were poor substitutes for the wealth of emotions the fading echoes of his gran’s existence woke in him. The memory of her scent and movements, her electric fields, her weight on the mattress. It was all gone from their perspective because there were no social insects in there who could have stored it for longer. All that remained were the shadows of his own memories, and they were haunting, not soothing. It was time to make new impressions, to get rid of ghosts Andi had conjured up himself.
Knowing that his gran wouldn’t have wanted him to turn her bedroom into some sort of shrine was another motivator. As it was, she’d probably been looking down on him since her death, cussing him out for his stupidity—in a very gentle, loving manner, but still. She’d been good at that. One look from her conveyed more meaning than an entire monologue from somebody else.
“We’re going to need boxes. To…pack stuff.”
“We still have the boxes from my move here. I’ll get them from the attic after my shower and then we can start.”
They finished their breakfast in silence, for which Andi was grateful. He felt raw and vulnerable in a way he’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t the feeling of drowning on land he had gotten used to because of his geschenk. No, this was the slicing agony of being lost and alone, not because he’d gotten used to it but because the person who had been his anchor and companion was gone. And when he thought about how his gran had left him, he couldn’t help but think about what would happen to him if George left him. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to survive.
Andi stood on the threshold of his gran’s room when George came back from his shower with a stack of folded moving boxes in his arms. He leaned them against the wall next to the door before he put his hand on Andi’s shoulder. Again, he didn’t say anything, just waited patiently for Andi to make the first move. That was the reason he found the strength to do it. With a deep intake of breath, Andi took one of the boxes, stepped into the room and folded it out. George grabbed his own box.
“Where do you want to start?”
Andi looked around. He knew he had to ease into this. “Her closet. I don’t know if her clothes are still any good though. There’s no clothes moths in here, and the climate is dry, but?—”
“It’s fine. We’ll see.” George stepped forward and opened the wardrobe. The plethora of colors almost blinded him. His gran had always loved bright things. George whistled.
“Wow. This is so not what I had expected.”
It wasn’t meant in a disrespectful way, and Andi understood what his partner meant.
“She was never a typical grandmother. It was one of the things I loved so much about her.”
“I can imagine she looked great in this.” George took out a light, flowing summer dress in the brightest orange imaginable.
