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“Well, that’s nothing new,” Peyton told him, his old smile coming back. “If you weren’t being one, that’s when I’d start to worry.”
“Dick.”
Peyton laughed and shrugged. “Same me, no anus.”
“Holy fuck,” Linden whispered.
“Barbie butt,” Peyton added, and he was smiling, but there was a twinge inside him because well…that was the case. There was nothing actually there anymore. The first time he saw it in the mirror, he laughed his ass off. The nurse was with him, and he’d cracked a few jokes to make her smile.
The second time, he was alone, and he sobbed into a pillow until his lungs hurt.
Now he just sort of washed himself and put a new bag on and tried not to think about what it would be like the first time he went on a date—assuming that ever happened again. He couldn’t get a Grindr match half the time because he didn’t have the right color eyes or ideal height. God knows what they’d say if they found out the bottom half of him looked the way it did.
His therapist told him to mourn however his mind and body wanted to mourn—and this was apparently it.
“We should get to work,” Peyton said, shaking himself out of his head. This wasn’t the time. It was his first week back with the online store, and he was starting up the shop with cookies. “Do you have that list printed out?”
“Yep.” Linden pointed to the small stack of papers on the coffee table. “I’m also going to set up the printer before I take off. Are yousureyou don’t want me to go punch your neighbor in the face?”
“Positive,” Peyton said. He hadn’t even met the guy yet, so it only seemed fair to give him a chance. “But if that changes, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Linden smiled at him. “That’s why you’re the best brother in the world.”
Peyton grinned back at how easy to please his big brother was, and how easy it had become to accept his place in their relationship. He wanted to be happy again, and Linden’s concern had just given him reason to start moving on.
It was ten that night by the time Peyton finished the last of his orders. Four-hundred and eighty cookies total that week. Forty dozen orders, and only because he’d put a limit. His waitlist was already full, his email pages and pages of unread requests for invoice. His Instagram page had been blowing up all day since he’d been posting progress photos, and he knew that while he was going to be making plenty of money to survive, he was going to have to take it slow.
His entire midsection was aching, and he couldn’t bake on painkillers, so he was muscling his way through the final batch.
It was an allergen-free pudding cookie recipe with vegan chocolate chips, made with an extra pop of cornstarch and vanilla pod to make them extra soft and full of flavor. They were his most popular order, even from people who didn’t need allergen-free cookies.
He was limiting those though, because the recipe was that much more expensive, but he had overestimated his dough amount and when he was finished cooling the final batch, he realized he had eleven left over.
For a moment he contemplated just adding the extras as a little thank you gift, but then he thought about his neighbor and figured he could maybe try one more time. He wouldn’t offer a cup of sugar or directions to the supermarket which probably had come off a bit patronizing. The person was probably stressed as hell with all the move-in shit, and Peyton couldn’t blame him for being irritated.
He carefully packed up the cookies in a plastic container, then added a second note which he pinned to the top.
Hi, sorry about the assumption earlier. I didn’t ask about allergies, and I know better than that since I have plenty of them. These are my allergen-free pudding cookies, which I promise are the most delicious things you’ll ever eat. They’re gluten-free, nut-free, dairy-free, and egg-free. The flour is rice, oat, and potato, and all the mix-ins are vegan. Please enjoy these on me and I look forward to getting to know you. Hope the move in is going well. Don’t hesitate to pop by if you need anything.
Your neighbor, -P
He felt fairly satisfied by it, then he walked them over and knocked on the door. When there was no answer again, he rang the bell—but still, nothing. With a sigh, he set them to the side of the ramp and headed back to his place, wondering what kind of person he was.
Did he live alone? Was there a small family involved?
The person hadn’t taken down the former resident’s ramp which had been necessary as he’d gotten along in his years. Peyton remembered more than a handful of times walking over to help him up with his groceries while he pushed his walker inside.
Peyton also remembered knowing the man was going to pass soon. He could see it in his eyes—the fatigue of just living every day at his age. It made him ache, but more than mourning, he’d been relieved for Barry when his grandson came over to tell Peyton he was gone.
He hadn’t been the most pleasant person in the world to get along with, but most people liked Peyton, and Barry was no exception.
After his death, there’d been a short period where Peyton felt the absence of something to do every Thursday when the grocery order never arrived, but then his intestine had perforated and the surgery had happened, and his life had changed.
One grief took over another, and Barry was relegated to a quiet memory.
It was probably the way it should be, he thought as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. He set an alarm on his phone to get up early and order the package pick-up, then he left the rest of the food to cool as he stepped outside.
There was a quiet littlemrownot far, then the sound of paws rushing through the grass. Peyton flopped down on the edge of his patio and within seconds, a tiny furry body was rubbing itself all over his legs. He laughed, giving the kitten a scritch. It was thin, but not dangerously so, though he still debated about going in to get it a can of tuna.
