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So we sit there, on the roof, he and I. Every now and then, I feel his hand graze against mine. Eventually, my head starts to bob, my eyes heavy. I don’t protest when a strong arm wraps around me and pulls me over. He is so warm, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, smelling earth. He keeps his arm around me as he rubs his chin on the top of my head. Eventually, I drift off to sleep.
I do not dream.
Sometime later, I awaken to a gentle voice. “Benji. Benji. Open your eyes.
Open your eyes and see.” I do. He’s staring down at me, cradling me in his arms, a small smile on his face. “The sun is about to rise. You must see this. It is a beautiful thing.” He looks toward the horizon.
But all I can see is him.
a man about town
I make him shower before we leave (a scowling “I don’t think I’m going to like
this” turns into a loud “Hey, this is pretty neat!”). He dresses in the same clothes he had on before, the white T-shirt and jeans, pulling on an old pair of work boots. I tell him with no small amount of dread that while I’m at work he’s going to need to go shopping for some new clothes.
“Why?” he says, looking down at what he’s wearing. “Is there something wrong with this? I don’t think I’m going to like shopping.”
“You know, you say you aren’t going to like anything, yet you end up liking everything,” I remind him. “I haven’t yet steered you wrong, right?”
“Do you like shopping?” he asks innocently enough.
I’m unable to stop the look of disgust on my face. I try to hide it and say, “Sure. Well, some of the time.”
He nods. “I wish someone had told you that you’re a terrible liar so I wouldn’t have to be the first one. I feel bad now.”
“You don’t feel bad at all,” I growl at him.
Cal’s eyes dance. “I do,” he promises. “But I’m not going to go shopping. I will stay with you until it is time to leave. But if there are any threads, I will follow them and then come back.”
“You have to go,” I sigh. “You can’t keep wearing that.”
“Why?”
I struggle with the answer. “Those are… my father’s. It’s just… weird for me. To see it.”
His eyes go wide as he looks down at himself. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding wounded. “I did not think. Benji, please forgive me.” He starts to lift the shirt over his head, and I catch a glimpse of his stomach, wonderfully muscled under the auburn curls. I almost think about letting him continue, but that probably makes me a bit of a pervert, so I stop him, pulling the shirt back down.
“It’s okay for now,” I assure him, even though he’s trying to unbutton the jeans. I slap his hands away. “It can wait until you’re done shopping.”
His face turns red and he looks down at the ground and mumbles something.
“I can’t hear you,” I tell him.
He speaks up. “I don’t have currency,” he grumbles, glancing up at me before looking away. “I can’t buy things without it, right? That’s how it always is. You need money and I don’t have any.”
“You mean God doesn’t pay you?” I tease.
He looks horrified. “No! All I do is for him. He is the Creator; he is my father. His will is word and I must follow for he is divine—”
“Right, okay,” I cut him off before he goes into a sermon. “I’ve got money, no worries.”
He looks miserable again. “I haven’t a way to pay you back.”
I shrug. “We’re friends, right?”
He hesitates, but then he nods.
“And you’re going to be sticking around? At least for a while?”
