Savaro's Honey Buns (10 page)

"You didn't have to interrupt your vacation, Jam,"

she said. "I would have been fine. It was minor."

Jamal sat on the side. "Mom, you should know that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Are they treating you good? What does the doctor say?"

"He said it was a minor one," she replied. "I'm still a bit weak… who is this?"

Jamal turned and took a deep breath. He extended a hand to Savaro who walked the two steps to the side table and took his hand. He rested them there and when their fingers were looped, he turned to face his mom. "Mom, this is Savaro Anatolis. His honey buns rival yours."

"What? Never!" She laughed. "I have it on high authority my honey buns are the best."

"This is my mother." Jamal eyed Tamara.

"Come closer," Tamara said, reaching for Savaro's hand. "Let an old woman look at you."

Jamal watched as Savaro took his mother's hand

and stepped up. Savaro sat on the bed and met Tamara's eyes.

"Strong shoulders." She smiled, poking his arm.

"What's your background?"

"Erm… Italian—I think."

She arched a brow. "But your last name is Greek…"

"Long story on that one—but the short of it is that I was adopted."

"You know, my son thinks he's Superman," Tamara began. "But sometimes he needs someone to slow him down, give him a honey bun, a glass of milk and force him to sit and breathe for a second. Can you do that?"

"Mom… you should rest."

"No, Jamal. Let me be," Tamara shushed.

"Yes, ma'am," Savaro replied, still holding her hands.

"Because if it's one thing I've learnt from all of this, it's that I won't be around forever. And even though he doesn't like hearing me say stuff like this—I think it's fairly obvious."

"No son likes to think his parents are less than invincible." Savaro nodded. "But he's right, you know. You should rest."

"You know," Tamara said. "Because you don't want to hear it doesn't make it less true."

"You're right. But you can chastise us more once you've gotten some rest." Savaro chuckled.

Tamara smiled and when Savaro got up from the

bed Jamal pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep.

We'll be here when you wake up."

When she was snoring softly, Jamal turned to find Savaro staring out the window into the dark. It was in the wee hours of the morning. He walked and stood behind Savaro, resting his head against his lover's shoulder.

"I was so scared," Jamal admitted.

"It's understandable. She's your mom. She's been there for you forever."

"About what she said…"

"About someone to keep you grounded?"

Jamal nodded against Savaro's back. "I don't expect you to really do that. I mean—you don't have to. I won't hold you to that."

"You think I told her yes because she's sick and I wanted to appease her?"

"Didn't you?" Jamal tilted his head.

"What if I want to? What if I want to be the man who walks into your office in the middle of the night with a honey bun on a plate and a glass of milk trying to coax you into coming to bed?"

Jamal chuckled. "You would never have to coax me to your bed, Savaro."

Savaro turned then to rest his bum on the window

sill and fold his arms over his chest. "That's not what I meant. I don't mean a bed we sleep in. I… shit…" he rubbed a hand over his face and pushed from the window.

"I was never any good at explaining myself. It's times like this I wished I smoked. I need coffee. Do you want some coffee?"

"Savaro don't just… you already brought…" Jamal pointed at the two cups on the side table then turned to look at Savaro.

But Savaro was already gone. Bowing his head,

Jamal pressed his hands against his hips and took a shaky breath.

"There's something about that man," Tamara's voice cut through his confusion.

Walking to the bed, Jamal sat on the side and took his mother's hand. "I thought I told you to rest."

"I
am
resting. I'm also your mother, Jam. So you can't really hide anything from me. I can read you like a book and your book is on the page where you are in love with that man."

"I just met him, Mom."

"So? That has nothing to do with it. Time is just a pesky little thing God gave us so we can better plan our lives—to make sure we do all the things we were put on this earth to do. Don't use it as an excuse to lose that man.

How many of your other boyfriends would have come here from Eros—or anywhere for that matter—with you

tonight?"

Jamal inhaled, shifted on the bed and closed his

eyes.

"Think about it. What does he do for a living?"

"He owns his own restaurant."

"See? He dropped all of that to rush here with you today. I'm your mother. I've never met him before tonight so he didn't do it for me. He did it for you and no one, gay or straight is going to go through all of that for just anyone.

The question he asked about being the man bringing you a snack to coax you to go to bed—he wasn't asking if you wanted to be his lover… he was asking you to be his forever. I know I raised you to read people, Jam… but if that had been a test, you would have failed."

Jamal looked into his mother's eyes then. "What?

How did you get forever from bed?"

Tamara laughed softly. "Oh, my baby." She lifted a shaky hand and caressed his cheek. "I am so sorry I failed you. I taught you to read the bad in people but not the good."

"Mom, don't, don't do that."

"Listen to me," Tamara pushed. "I knew your father for two years before we slept together. No, sweetie, listen. I thought if I got to know him better, take more time to be around him, when we finally got close, it would be love. It had to be, right? I mean, we were together for a long time. I want you to understand something, Jam. Time does not measure love."

"Then what does?"

"Heart, body, soul… there's no measurement for love. You either love someone or you don't. There's no two ways about it. You can sorta like someone, or sorta want them but you can't sorta love someone. Ignore time, Jam.

Ignore all the constraints it puts on you—just open your eyes, see things as more than black and white, because that's what time is. You either have time for it or you don't and that's not how I want you to live your life. I want you to live your life in colour, to take love no matter if it comes after a year of friendship or a day. Now take that man, Savaro. I watched the way he looked at you before he left this room and if that's not love—baby I don't know what is."

Jamal listened to his mother then climbed into the bed so she could hold him. Sometimes he didn't know how he went through life away from her. Sometimes he felt so consumed by the world that he had to go home to his mom.

She had a way of explaining things to him that made his world simple and peaceful again.

* * * *

After leaving the room, Savaro found the men's

room, locked himself in one of the stalls and pressed his back to the wall. His chest heaved and he bowed his head trying desperately to control his emotions. He didn't want to push Jamal—the question just seemed to fly out before he could close his lips around them. Guilt washed over him—a hospital room was neither the time nor the place to spring something like that on Jamal. It had been years since he'd fallen out of control. The last time he was twenty-two and was in love for the first time. Things didn't end well, for Drew decided he wanted some bone-thin, Japanese street racer instead.

The bathroom door creaked open, followed by

footsteps then the sound of the door closing. Savaro held his breath. Running water came next then the door opened and closed once more. Breathing again, Savaro flushed the toilet out habit and let himself out of the confined space. He turned on the water and splashed some on his face before dragging his wet fingers through his hair. After drying his hands, he straightened his clothes, making a mental note to find a nearby clothing store then stepped from the toilet.

He walked to a vending machine and stood before

it, staring at the contents. No matter what he saw it made him ill to think about eating. Turning down the corridor, he walked around for a bit then finally made his way back to the room. He allowed his body to fall into a nearby chair.

Jamal was on the bed with his mom and for the first time since his adoption, Savaro wished he had that. Feeling alone and out of place, he pulled his chair to the window, shifted to get comfortable and closed his eyes. Sleep came immediately but the nightmares were rampant. They swarmed in on him and no matter how hard he tried to wake up, they held him under as if trying to drown him. By the time he finally could wake up, it was due to a shout. He jerked upward in his seat. Looking around, he was in the room with Jamal and Tamara looking at him with concern.

There was no one else there. He must have been the one to yell. Rubbing a hand over his face, he raked his fingers through his hair and settled back in the chair. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs then forced his body into standing position.

"Morning," Savaro greeted them. "I'm going to see about getting a hotel room in this town. I'll, er, be back."

"Savaro…"

"I'll be back."

Stepping from the room, he hurried along the hall with Jamal calling after him. Still he didn't stop. Instead he stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing and pressed his back to the wall. Downstairs, he found the gift store and used their directory to find a hotel close by. He took a moment to book a suite so if Jamal cared to join him he too would have a place. With that finished, he bought a teddy bear and some sunflowers then made his way back to the room.

"I brought you something," he said, placing the flower arrangement on the windowsill. He then handed the bear to her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I—ah—I'm going to head over to the hotel and get cleaned up a little." He stopped and pulled a card from his wallet. He found a pen on the bedside table beside Tamara's bible and scribbled the hotel's name and his number on the card. He handed it to Jamal. "I'll be here. If you need a place to clean up and stuff…"

"Savaro we have to talk."

"I know," Savaro bowed his head. "But not now—

okay, not now."

Savaro sat on the bed, fingers laced together and elbows against his knees. Everything felt as if it were slowly slipping out of control. What was happening to him?

He always hated men when they expected people to read their minds. Yet he'd done the exact same thing to Jamal.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with Jamal so quickly. The first time he met the man, Savaro wanted to reach across the table and strangle him. So how did he feel so lost without Jamal? It almost felt as if he was falling for the first man who made his body burn. Was that even possible?

Pushing his hair back, he shoved his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it to a nearby chair. He slid his feet from his shoes and looked over at the shopping bags to the left. He finally garnered enough strength and courage to get to the bags but his cell phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Savaro, it's Raj. You okay?"

Savaro nodded to enforce the lie he was about to

tell. "Yeah. Everything is fine. Jamal's mother had a minor heart attack but she'll be as good as new in no time."

"Good. What about you?"

Taking a breath, Savaro walked to the bags and

grabbed as many as he could with his free hand. Carrying them back to the bed, he dumped them out. Gathering the toiletries, he walked them into the bathroom. "I love him, Raj. And right now I don't want to tell him because I don't want him to make a decision because he feels stressed. But damn—I just… and I don't want him to think I'm needy and weird—why is love so hard?"

"It is hard because love is good and worthwhile.

Nothing good and worthwhile comes easy—you should know that by now, Sav."

Savaro groaned. "When did you get so smart?"

"Sav—hang in there. I'm on my way to you right now."

"Rajan. Don't do that. You can't just drop a movie to come here."

"Remember all those years ago when you gave up a good life for me?"

"Raj…"

"Why is it all right for you to sacrifice for me and I can't do the same for you? I'm coming to you and that's that so don't bother arguing because you're wasting your breath.

Laird is holding down the fort at Anatolis with Appa's help," Rajan replied. "You need me."

Savaro chuckled. "You're right—I should know better. Listen, call me when you land in Toronto. I'll probably be at the hotel."

"What about Jamal?"

"I don't know. I'm going to take a shower and get some stuff together. I probably will call Laird and Appa just to let them know I'm still breathing."

"You'd better." Rajan laughed. "We know Laird is a little drama queen when it comes to family."

Savaro grinned. "I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"What's he gonna do? Spank me?"

Savaro slapped his forehead and groaned. "And that's my cue!"

With their conversation over, Savaro dug through

one of the other bags for the brand new phone charger and hooked up his phone. He then entered the shower and lifted his face to the downpour of water. Bracing his hands to the wall, he moaned at the warmth of the water flowing down his body. He finally managed to calm himself enough to think clearly. Licking his lips, Savaro eased his body from under the water and opened his eyes. He thought of Rajan who was on his way from India and felt guilty for pulling his brother away from his work. Rubbing a hand over the lion tattoo on this chest, remembering the reason he'd gotten it. The lion was considered iron—the king of the jungle. The animal was strong and fearless. George always told Savaro, Rajan and Laird if they were going to live in this world, they had to be as lions—they had to be strong and fearless.

"Sometimes you have to be a lion for each other,"

George explained. "And when you can't, step out of the way and let your brother take the lead."

Smiling, he shook his head knowing there was