A Small Miracle Happened (7 page)

“She’s fine.”

Chris could hear both sides of the conversation clearly. He wondered if he should leave and give Dan some privacy, but the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had a death grip on his shirt.

“Dad said it was serious, and I looked it up. It could cause brain damage—”

Mrs. Sobol’s voice was firm and steady. “Don’t worry, Danny. She’s going to be fine. Can you believe it? She’s yellow, so they put her under a blue light to turn her red again.”

“Wait, what?” Dan let go of Chris to run a hand through his already mussed hair.

“You know how babies always look angry red? Okay, you don’t know babies so maybe not. But this stuff that causes the jaundice made her skin look yellow. And this weird blue light breaks it down. She has to lie under the light in just a diaper with a blindfold on.”

“That sounds completely crazy.” Dan’s laugh was shaky, and Chris realized his mother was trying to use humor to reassure him.

“It works, and it’s not that unusual. My friend Trisha’s older son had the same thing, and he’s fine. Arielle is going to be fine. And you are
not
going to worry.” She huffed out a breath before adding, “Danny, is that friend of yours there? The one we talked to a little yesterday?”

“Yeah, he’s right next to me. Um, he’s listening.”

“Good. Put him on.”

Dan looked confused, but he passed the phone to Chris, who took it gingerly “Uh, hello, Mrs. Sobol.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot your name?” She made it a question.

“I’m Chris. I mean, Christian Parsons.”

There was a long pause. “Really? Never mind that. Dan says you’re a nice guy, but what I want to know is, are you a panicky guy?”

“Not really. I don’t think so.”

“Good, because in case you haven’t figured it out already, Danny is. When something goes wrong, he imagines the worst, and keeps imagining it until he makes himself sick. His father’s the same, which is why I shouldn’t have let Ben be the one to call him. So I need you to do something very important.”

Chris didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

“When he starts worrying the light is going to turn Arielle into a huge blueberry so she’ll explode or something equally ridiculous, you say this and keep saying it:
Stop
.”

“Stop?”

“Yes, stop. Tell him to cut it out, have a glass of wine, watch a TV show, kiss you, whatever he needs to do, but stop it.”

Chris couldn't restrain himself. He choked out a laugh.

“You laugh, but if I don’t tell you this, you’ll sympathize with him, and that you must
not
do. It makes him worse. Be firm.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chris almost managed to keep his voice steady.

Dan, listening in obvious mortification, grabbed the phone back. “Mom!”

“That’s right, be mad at me. I don’t mind. I have to go hold your father’s hand before he makes your sister as crazy as he is. You be good, and I promise to text at least once an hour until bedtime.”

Dan dropped the phone on the coffee table with an expression of disgust. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Chris held his hand, much as he imagined Mrs. Sobol was holding her husband’s. “I don’t know. Your mom is kind of sweet in a really, really forceful way.”

Dan ducked his head as if trying to hide behind the hair that fell over his eyes. “She’s right. I do panic. I’m okay if there’s something I can do, but when I can’t…”

“The adrenaline keeps pumping anyway. So it’s hard to talk yourself down.” He tugged Dan to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“First to the kitchen, where I’m going to put the veggies in the fridge. Then to my bedroom so I can change, and then to your place so you can put on some sweatpants and sneakers. We’re going for a run.”

Dan shuffled his feet. “Um, I run like a girl.”

“There were girls on my school’s track team. We don’t have to do a four-minute mile. We just have to work off some energy.”

Dan was a perfectly competent runner, but he didn’t have much speed. Chris assured him that wasn’t important, and they jogged around their neighborhood, up Victoria Terrace, down Agin Court, then onto Mansfield Parkway until it linked to Court Darthur, then back to Victoria Terrace.

By the time they returned to Prince Albert Circle, Dan’s phone had buzzed once with a text from his mother saying she and Sharon had spoken to the doctor, who was pleased with the baby’s progress. A few minutes later, she sent another message saying she’d sent Arielle’s father and grandfather out for food, because she was damned if she was going to eat one more meal in the hospital cafeteria. Dan seemed to find the second text most reassuring. “If she’s worrying about food, she’s sure things are going to be okay, not just pretending to keep everyone else from panicking.”

Dan was heading back to his place, but Chris grabbed his hand. “Come home with me. We left the menorah there, and I need to start cooking.”

“I need a shower.” Dan shoved his hair out of his eyes. His skin was glowing from the exercise, and he’d worked up a decent sweat.

Chris smiled, showing his teeth. “I have a shower.”

Dan was still distracted, because he didn't catch on immediately. “I thought you were hungry.”

“Like your mom, I’m relieved your niece is okay. But that’s made me think of something besides food.”

The damn pipes in the shower stall rattled, but Chris barely noticed. When Dan went down on his knees, the entire ceiling could have crashed down and not destroyed his mood. But the water started to run cold before he could return the favor, and he had to bundle Dan into a towel and onto his bed so he could reciprocate properly.

He was pleased with the way that strategy played out when Dan sighed, curled up with a satisfied smile, and dozed while Chris made dinner.

They ate in the living room. Dan sat on the couch, his plate on his lap and his phone next to him, while he watched the candles flicker in the window.

Dan’s family called intermittently all evening, and by the last conversation even his father sounded positive all would be well.

They went to sleep without making love again. But they shared the same bed. As Chris drifted off, still holding Dan, he wondered if that made them a couple. Surely it was a relationship if you slept together without fucking first?

Chapter Seven

Seventh night—Tuesday

Dan slept soundly and had to rush to make it to the office on time the next morning. He spent half the morning checking his phone for news while he pretended to work. He received a few cheerful messages from his parents, but wasn’t sure the crisis had passed until his sister texted him.

Sharon:
Mom says you need reassuring so I’m taking time out from my busy new mom schedule to say all’s well.

Dan:
That’s great.

Sharon:
We can take Arielle home today.

Dan:
Even better.

Sharon:
And I’ve been able to start breast-feeding her again.

Dan:
Ew!!!

Sharon:
Sorry. Forgot your gay-boy booby phobia.

Dan should have known it would take her fewer than fifty words to start teasing him. Some things never changed.
I do not have booby phobia. I just prefer not to think about them.

Sharon:
I bet you thought about them all the time when mom was using hers to feed you.

Dan:
I’m sticking my fingers in my ears and singing real loud now.

Sharon:
Okay, new subject. Mom says there’s a guy.

Dan:
World’s full of guys.

Sharon:
Mom and Dad say this one is there every time they call.

Dan gave up. She’d drag it out of him eventually.
That’s Chris. He’s amazing. We hardly know each other but he took care of me yesterday.

Sharon:
Oooh, details!

Dan:
Shut. Up. I mean when I was worrying about the baby. He calmed me down.

Sharon:
More than I can ever do. If he’s figured out the trick, he’s the one for you.

Dan thought about changing the subject again, but what the hell. A big sister had to be useful for something. So he dumped some of his insecurity on her.
But am I the one for him?

Sharon:
If you think you could be, take care of him right back. Show him you’ll be there if he needs you.

Dan:
I don’t know how to do that.

Sharon:
Duh. Figure out what he needs. If he doesn’t need anything, figure out what he wants.

Chris had made it pretty clear he wanted Dan’s ass, but since he’d already had it, that didn’t help. Besides, Dan was
so
over talking about body parts with his sister.
I’ll try.

Sharon:
Good. I’m e-mailing baby pics. You’re required to say Aw! or How cute! for each one.

Dan:
I’ll make a note of it.

Dan once believed there was a law against following your sister’s advice about anything, but maybe the statute expired after you turned twenty-one. Chris had been a rock yesterday. But he’d be within his rights to back away now that he’d had a taste of the behavior that caused Dan’s grandmother to label him “highly strung.”

No use wishing he hadn’t fallen apart in front of someone he hadn’t known a week. Now it was time to demonstrate some redeeming qualities. If only he could dredge some up.

He went out for lunch, but only grabbed a sandwich from a local shop and stuck it in his backpack. He’d eat at his desk later. He spent the rest of his break in a used bookstore.

The small hardcover had obviously been read, but it was in good condition. When Dan saw how Chris ran a hand lovingly over the cover, he knew he’d chosen well.

“
Leaves of Grass
. How did you know?” Chris opened the book like a man welcoming an old friend. “Whitman is one of my favorites. I found him when I was in middle school, and no one told my parents he was gay, so I was allowed to keep him.”

“The copy on your dresser was a clue. And I thought you might need a new one, because when I tried to pick it up this morning, the spine was split and it came apart in my hand. I’d have bought a new edition, but the only bookstore nearby sells used books, so…” He shrugged.

Chris smiled. “I love used books. I like to think they connect me to the people who’ve read them before.” He set it down on the coffee table, then kissed Dan in that gentle way he had, hands resting on shoulders, lips open but not insistent. It turned Dan’s stomach to mush and made him want to grab Chris and perform all kinds of fierce and lascivious acts on him.

Chris released him, then went into the kitchen to check on dinner, so instead Dan began to set candles in the menorah, carefully moving from right to left.

Chris came into the room and began paging through the book, stopping to read a few lines here and there, reading with the assurance of someone who already knew the text well. A buzzer sounded again. Chris returned to the kitchen, leaving his gift on the coffee table.

Dan picked up the book. It was well thumbed enough it had remained open at the page Chris had been reading, even without a bookmark.

Are you the new person drawn toward me?

To begin with, take warning—I am surely far different from what you suppose;

Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?

Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?

Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?

Do you think I am trusty and faithful?

Do you see no further than this facade—this smooth and tolerant manner of me?

Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?

Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?

Dan looked at the menorah. Only one space was empty tonight, and tomorrow that too would be filled with a candle. All the lights would burn for an hour and then…would their little Hanukkah miracle end too?

Would the connection Dan hoped they’d made this past week fray instead of growing stronger? Would Chris realize Dan was just a high-maintenance bundle of nerves not worth his attention? Would Dan learn things about Chris that would disillusion him? Maybe he’d so associated Chris with the comfort of holiday trappings, he hadn’t seen the real man. Perhaps once the menorah was packed up and put away, the bond between them would disappear with it.

Chris had to be thinking the same. He knew these poems. He hadn’t stopped at these words by chance.
Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?

Dan had let other relationships slip away because of similar fears. And maybe that had been the best thing to do with those other men; he could barely remember some of their names. But was that the right path now? Maybe it was time to take a stand and try to hold on to a miracle.

Maybe Chris wouldn’t want to try. Maybe they’d both try and fail. But what if they succeeded?

After dinner, Dan offered to give Chris a massage. He remembered how, when they’d sixty-nined, he’d imitated each of Chris’s moves. Chris had liked that. And didn’t people often give you what they wanted themselves, not out of egotism, but because it was something they imagined everyone would enjoy? So perhaps Chris would like a massage.

Chris looked surprised but pleased, as if no one had ever offered before, which made Dan even more anxious to do a good job. He didn’t have Chris’s hands or experience, but he was no weakling, and by dint of demanding feedback, he soon found a rhythm. The muscles in Chris’s back were like iron, and it was hard to tell if he was loosening them appreciably, but Chris made purring noises, so he figured he was doing okay.

When he’d worked his way along Chris’s arms, down his back, and then to that very excellent ass, Dan hesitated for a moment. But the temptation was great, and Dan had never had much self-control.