It felt perfect on my wrist, heavy enough to notice but not heavy enough to weigh my arm down.“It’s great.Thanks, Eddie.”
“Where’s my present?”he said.
“I can’t give it to you till we’re home.”
“You left it behind?”he said.
“No.”
“Did you wrap it?”
“It’s not something you can wrap.”
He smiled slyly.“Is it a blow job?”
I laughed.“It’s not a sex thing.You’ll see.”I hoped he’d like it and wouldn’t think it was cheesy.
We finished our meal and walked home, arms around each other, and fuck discretion.Anyway, it was dark, so it was easier to pretend we were alone.I had to take the sunglasses off because I couldn’t see.After we got back to the apartment, I took one of his presents out of my backpack.
“This first.”
It was a T-shirt with Orange Crush printed across the front.
“Is it too on the nose?”I felt like I had to apologize, though it looked amazing on him.
“Thanks.Why couldn’t you give this to me at the restaurant?”
“That’s not your real present.”I took hold of him by his shoulders, sat him on the couch, and kissed his forehead.“Stay there.”
I brought out my keyboards and set up in front of him.I hadn’t been able to practice at home, or it would have spoiled the surprise, and I’d had to use the old piano in the basement of my building at work.
“You’re giving me your keyboards?”he said.
“No.I wrote a song for you.”
I started playing, watching him the whole time.Then I sang to him.He’d said he liked my singing voice, so I figured he’d like that.
He had such a poker face that I couldn’t tell what he thought.He reminded me of the tap competition judges who never gave away if I was last place or first.
I sang the last line, the one I’d been trying to get right forever:
You have a country inside you, and I want to walk in it always.
I played the last chord.
He didn’t say anything.
“Was it okay, honey kid?”
“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked.He blinked.“It was...thanks.”
“I know it’s rough, and I didn’t practice it enough, and it’s not that great and—”
“Let’s fuck,” he said.
I guess he liked it.
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