“That’s a good sound,” Perry whispered without looking up from peeling the onion.
“Oui!” Carol called from the couch. “C’est bon!”
“Why is he so French today?” I asked.
Michael shrugged. “He had a few beers at the club.”
“A few? You weren’t there that much longer than us.”
“Hence the French,” Michael agreed.
“Why’s he drunk?” Perry asked.
Carol said something in French and I caught “copine,” which I thought meant companion, “cretin”—self-explanatory—and “ma suppose” at the end. Didn’t sound good.
“Translate,” Alan demanded, handing me another washed potato.
“Girlfriend troubles.”
“Je suis un Olympien. Elle m’a quitté pour un chauffeur de gaz,” Carol whined.
That one I understood. “Then she doesn’t deserve you, Carol,” I said. “An Olympian for a gas station attendant is not a trade up.”
“Je devrais m’en tenir aux garçons.”
“Garçons all the way,” I agreed, because I thought he’d said he should try dating guys.
Carol flopped over to bury his face in Michael’s sweater. “Les gars sont meilleurs.”
Michael rubbed his back, gently pulling tangles out of his hair that had faded to shades of powder blue and lavender. “Guys are only better when they get their heads out of theirasses.” He looked over the back of the couch at all three of us in general, and I thought Perry specifically.
“Maybe go get him to shower,” Alan suggested. “And take a nap. It’ll be a while before this is done and he’ll probably be hungry. I doubt he ate much at the club.”
“Mostly drank,” Michael agreed. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you sorted.”
Carol mumbled in French under his breath but took Michael’s hand and followed meekly to the bathroom between their two bedrooms.
“That isn’t— They aren’t?—”
“No. They’ve always been like that,” Alan said. “I suspect it’s as close as Michael cares to get to a significant other, and honestly, until Carol finds someone who gets that about them, his love life is doomed.”
“Huh.” I watched as the bathroom door closed behind them. “Guess threesomes come in all flavours.”
“If they find a third,” Alan agreed and set his spatula down. “This is what gives us the edge,” he said. “Not just personally, but as a team. Carol will be sad for a bit but he has Michael here, and you two have each other. Robbie has his guy.”
“They’re not together,” Perry piped up.
“Well.” Alan waved that away. “They are what they are. My point is, other teams have their close connections out in the world someplace. I know we all have families too, and good friends who aren’t here. But our closest, best parts are right here with us.”
“As long as we’re not fighting,” I said, looking at Perry, who was fiddling with his knife, moving the cubed onions around on the cutting board with the tip. I glanced at the board and noticed he’d pushed them into the shape of three rough hearts linked together.
“We’ll get there,” Alan said, taking the knife, setting it aside, and picking up the cutting board. “Get potato chopping over there.”
I did as I was told, glancing up often to see Perry watching me, his lips turned up in an almost-smile. He looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks.
“You okay?” he asked me.
I nodded.
