The Dirt Whispered, Ch. 12
My alarm goes off at 8:30. “Creep” by Radiohead greets me. It makes me smile because Kevin and I used to loudly sing this song in the car, and I’d tell him he was “so fucking special” and it was always so perfect. This is the first time I’ve had any reason to use my alarm in a long time; I mean, I lived (I love the past tense) alone for so long that it never mattered if I wanted to sleep till three in the afternoon, or get up at four AM, you know?
But, today, it matters, because this is Kevin’s first morning here. Today is special, just like every day is going to be, now that he’s home. I slip from my room, smiling, satisfied, when I notice the door to his room is still closed. He’s still sleeping, which is good, because I want him to wake up with breakfast waiting.
It was strange saying good night last night. We stood at his door, and we kissed, and there was something confused, and maybe nervous, about his face when he smiled at me and closed the door to his room. I’m not sure what it was exactly. I’ll ask him later, when he wakes up.
I start a pot of coffee with a content sigh. I don’t like coffee, so really my coffee pot was for when my parents or Nick came to visit. But, I love the smell so much, since it always reminds me of Kevin. Now my whole apartment will smell like him. I hope it does anyway, since he’s going to live here. He acts like he’s a guest, the way he asked permission to take a shower or to get a snack from the fridge. I think part of him still needs to be told he’s allowed to, since he had a pretty strict schedule when he was in the home.
I’m thinking about this while I make pancakes. Kevin and I lived together our whole lives. I mean, even on the road, when we were in separate hotel rooms, I would be in his, or he would be with Nick and me in ours, more often than either of us would be alone. We’ve always had that natural way of knowing where home was - when we were with each other and our family. I need to show him somehow that he’s not a guest here; he’s a resident, because he’s with me.
I want the Kevin I know and love to suddenly realize he hates all the furniture in the living room and drag me out to buy a red leather couch, or to reorganize the bathroom, so we each have our stuff on our own sides, or to wake me up early one morning with Easter egg-blue paint in his hair to tell me we’re painting the kitchen and he wants me to help him draw funny faces on the walls. But, if he doesn’t feel like this is his home, those things won’t ever happen.
I’m lost in thoughts like these when I feel Kevin’s arms around me, and I smile, immediately tipping my head to the side so he can kiss my neck, and then we’re kissing over my shoulder, and the pancake I have resting on a spatula before me is forgotten for the time being. “Good morning.” I murmur against his mouth.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, closing his fingers around my wrist and dumping the pancake very precisely back onto the frying pan. “You’re cooking.” He sounds surprised. “When did you learn to cook?”
I laugh, pecking a kiss to his cheek. “I learned to read the directions on a box a few months ago when I realized I was going to starve if I didn’t learn to cook for myself. And, coffee, well, I learned that when I fell in love with you.” I gestured toward a cabinet above me with my spatula. “Mugs are in there.”
He nods and squeezes me close again, murmuring a “Thank you” against my ear before moving off to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Where are the plates?”
“Over here,” I point at a cabinet on the opposite side of me, and then I realize he wants to set the table, and I gesture toward a drawer on my left. “Silverware’s in there.”
He sets the table, and I make a huge stack of pancakes and toast, and in a few minutes, we’re sitting across from each other at our - our - small, round table that I chose because it fits perfectly in the corner of my kitchen, and only has enough space for about four people to sit, which I like because the only people who ever sit at it are Nick and me… and now Kevin.
There’s a certain way the silence falls over us, draped like a blanket, that makes it a little too heavy to be comfortable, and I press my fork against my pancake, watching the syrup ooze through the prongs. I’m trying to think of something to break it, but Kevin looks so thoughtful that I figure he has something he wants to say, and I don’t want to refuse him the opportunity.
I wait. And, it pays off when he looks up at me, smiling faintly when he finds me already looking at him, waiting for him to speak. “Um, can I ask you something?” His voice is soft, like he’s scared I’m going to say no.
I nod. “Sure.” I reach for his hand. I like the way his curls against mine, squeezing my fingers gently.
“Is there…” He bites his lip, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. “Is there a reason that you don’t want me to sleep with you? I mean, not sleep with you, but… sleep in your bed at night? We always used to do that before…” His voice gets steadily quieter as he speaks, his eyes dropping to his plate.
I want to punch myself in the face. Really. Really. I mean, if I wasn’t so sure it would freak Kevin right the hell out, I would be having a field day kicking my own ass. “Oh, Kev…” I shake my head, squeezing his hand hard enough that he actually pulls his away because I hurt him. “No, I didn’t… I mean, I do; I want you to sleep with me, really. I just… didn’t know if you’d want to, you know? I mean, we just kissed for the first time a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to push you…”
“You could’ve asked.” Kevin points out, and I feel even more stupid. Of course I could have. His hand covers mine, and his smile is gentle, like it always is when he’s scolding me, or telling me I didn’t do something quite right. I love so much that his mannerisms haven’t changed, enough that I don’t even mind him telling me what I did wrong. “I’m not going to break down if you ask me a question, Joe. I need you to ask me how I want things, if you don’t know. You can’t guess, because you could make it worse.” He shrugs, and the honesty almost stings. “I know you want to think that you know everything there is to know about how to take care of me, but you don’t. Every doctor I’ve seen has said the same thing. When I’m out, we have to learn together. So bear with me, okay? Learn with me; don’t guess. Please?”
I nod, immediately, and I’m so relieved, and I don’t know why. I mean, I was so scared of doing things wrong, or saying the wrong thing, but I need to talk with him. I can’t assume I know everything. “Kevin, do you want to share a bed with me? We can make the second bedroom a guestroom?”
He smiles and draws my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “That sounds great.”