I waited.
He said nothing.
I ventured. “So if it’s the primary bedroom—”
“Yes, well—” He cleared his throat. “I moved out of it after Marty died. He chose MAID—medical assistance in dying—and we decided on our bedroom. Best view of the house and where we’d spent some of our most precious time together. Sure, making love, but also reading the paper in bed. Laughing at each other. With each other. Planning for the future because we were going to live to be one hundred and share a room at a nursing home.”
We took a corner and out of the trees, we burst into a view of fields with mountains in the background. The sight before me took my breath away. And as we rounded the next corner, a burst of sunlight broke through the clouds that had settled after we’d landed. The effect was stunning and almost surreal.
You have to say something.“That’s sad. I mean, I assume that’s why you moved out of the room.”
“Mostly. I guess I just needed a new perspective. The two spare bedrooms face north and look out over our lawn and garden.” He sighed as the road we were on straightened. “I was the homebody who liked to putter around the garden. Marty was always big on going out. Somehow, though, we clicked. Complemented each other. Worked well together.”
“Ah.” I fidgeted with my jacket.
Zahir cast me a quick glance. “Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Given a choice, would you surround yourself with people to recharge, or do you hunker down at home?”
“Oh, definitely hunker down at home. Mom was like that too. Dad—” I swallowed. “Dad was always wanting to go out places and do things. It’s kind of amazing he stayed so still when we went camping. I guess—” Another swallow. “He knew he was leaving, and he wanted to make it, I dunno, special? Does thatmake sense?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Zahir quickly patted my knee. Then, as if realizing what he’d done, pulled his hand back. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I didn’t ask your permission.”
“To touch me?” I scrunched my nose.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s fine. I honestly don’t mind. In fact, I kind of miss Mom’s hugs. I touch people at work all the time. With their permission, of course. But that’s like impersonal, you know?” I winced.Could you sound any more pathetic?
“I still should have asked.”
“Formally, then, I give you the okay.” Because that was the correct thing to do…right? “It’s totally fine. I mean, if it’s not awkward and shit.”
He chuckled. “Yes to that.” He pulled into a left-hand turn lane and cast me a glance. “May I ask you something personal?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay.”
And yet he didn’t ask the question.
“Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Like, if I don’t want to answer, then I just won’t. If you freak me out, I’ll get out of the car and walk away.” I was fit, buff, and had self-defense training. Honestly, Zahir was more lean than bulk. Unless he was some secret kung-fu guy, I was going to be fine. Beyond that, though, I trusted him. He hadn’t been required to help me get on the plane. To upgrade my seat so we could sit together. He certainly hadn’t needed to hold my hand or talk me through the flight. His generosity knew no bounds—but I wasn’t going to be the one to test those limits.
Because everyone had limits.
Even me.
We turned left, and he accelerated. “So we’re about to go over the Mission-Abby bridge. You’ll get a sense for Mission as we crest the bridge.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” I held my tongue when I really wanted to point out that he hadn’t asked a question.
He took a deep breath and let it out. “So…you’re a puppy.”
Ah. Wondered when we’d circle around to this. Better in the car than on an airplane, that’s for sure.“Yes, I’m a…puppy.”
“Right. And you’re okay with the fact I’m gay.”
