Page 4 of Let Leaves Lay Where They Fall

No response comes back. Mark’s profile has gone dim, showing he’s no longer online. Nathan finishes his candy bar and swigs down half a bottle of water. Scrolling a bit more to ogle the digital buffet of hunky torsos and sultry smirking faces. He thumbs a bit of dribble away from the corner of his mouth.

Heading back toward the lounge, hoping it’s cleared out now, he passes DocDoc in the hall. The broad shoulder, slim wasted supermodel of a man is staring at his phone, smiling now. He passes right by. He must have found a trick?

Nathan drops his things in the locker and reports back to work. Ava and her Mom are still waiting. “It shouldn’t be much longer now. Do you need more juice?”

“We’re ok,” the mom smiles.

Passing Genevieve’s cubicle, he overhears her complaining behind the curtain. Curses for not going to the Hospital. “They’d probably be quicker there.”

Most definitely not. Nathan shakes his head.

He passes through the security doors to collect the next patient. “Thomas Levine?”

A fabulous bald man with a carved steel jawline sashays forward. His carpet of blonde chest fur sprouts from the low zipped top of a purple track suit. White racing stripes line the sleeves and pant legs. A yummy silver muscle daddy trailing behind, bulging through a thin white t-shirt, leaving little reason for the fabric to be there. Nathan loses focus for a second, glancing at the traces of tiny barbells piercing his nipples. Daddies are not usually his cup of tea, but god damn!

Nathan’s shift is set to end in just a few hours and with the day he’s having, a sweet little romp with a stranger would make it all better. He’d discovered a special spot last week while walking Mabel. The grumpy old bulldog had been a trooper, waiting patiently for him to blow off a little steam, right in the mouth of some random bear that shot him a suggestive wink on the forest trail. They ducked behind some bushes, just out of site. A burly man with a buzzed head. Decked in flannel, jeans and a wedding band, eagerly sucked Nathan dry. A literal lumberjack fantasy.

He returned the favor by giving the guy an aggressive spit shine handy simultaneously two-fingering his hairy manhole. It took the same amount of time for Mabel to sniff about and drop a poo just a few yards away. Watching her squat while he stroked the stranger's cock in one hand and finger banged him with the other, nearly inspired a roar of laughter. He had to bury his face in the guy’s collar to maintain composure. The lumberjack sucked his own come off Nathan’s fingers, nearly rousing a second go. Mabel wasn’t about to wait around for that.

The trail isn’t far from the clinic, and probably a sure bet. Better than sparking up hours of text with ArtisLife000. Those seedy hookup spots were usually listed online and offered a steady supply of thirsty regulars on the spot. It would leave the whole evening open to walk Mabel and order pizza.

Chapter 3

Sanctuary

Jamie plunked down on the sofa, half dressed in the white tee and jeans with the orange sweater laid across his lap. Intent on slipping his feet into the bright yellow canvas sneakers he’d carried to the living room. He shouldn’t have turned the television on. Getting lost in hours of an absurd reality show where cameras followed a vapid celebrity family in their partially scripted lives hadn’t been the plan. Its mindless chaos lured him in. He’d never admit to loving the voyeuristic drama.

Breaking from a trance, the clock on the microwave glows 12:45, he switches the tv off and orders a ride from the apartment to the Sanctuary on his phone. He finishes dressing and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and a glittery pink bowl from the cupboard kept under the kitchen sink. He fills the bowl from a bag of kibble and carries it out the door, locking it up behind and shuffling down the stairs.

The foyer is a long hallway, direct from the front to back doors of the building. In the rear is a small fenced in garden. Jamie makes his way out and sets the bowl of food on the stoop. A thin smoke gray cat appears from behind a shrub, greeting him with meows and purrs, gleefully trotting in his direction. The cat circles around both his ankles twice before burying her face into the bowl.

“Hey Rosy.” Jamie sits on the stoop next to the cat and strokes her long frail body. She pauses, gazing up at him with a gurgled “meow.” Her mouth is full of crunchy goodness. She’s a neighborhood stray, or at least that’s what he thinks. No one seems to know, so he keeps food around and checks in with her every day. If they were allowed pets in the building, he’d have taken her in months ago.

After she consumes all the kibble, he fills the bowl with water, and she laps at it until quenched. Droplets splatter onto the scuffed white leather toe of his shoe. She cuddles up next to his thigh and his phone buzzes an alert. His ride is out front. A few more head scratches and he stands up.

Rosy trots off behind the withering shrub that inspired her name. “I’ll check in with you later girl.” He waves, squeezing through the narrow alley running along the side of the building to greet the driver of a silver compact hatchback.

“James?” The young blue haired girl asks.

“That’s me.” Opening the door and slipping into the back seat.

“Casco Bay Sanctuary?”

“Yes please.” He smiles big at a set of brown eyes, caked with clumpy mascara, in the rear view mirror hanging askew from the windshield.

“Music okay?” She shifts the car and they move forward.

“Of course. Feel free. It’s your car.” Jamie was happy to fill the cab with noise, so he doesn’t feel pressured to make small talk. He’s aware of what an awkward conversationalist he can be when it comes to strangers. Social anxiety can get the best of him.

The ride is quick. Getting across town by car only takes about fifteen minutes, Thirty if there’s traffic. Portland is a small city on a peninsula of Maine’s south coast. The population branches out into several suburbs surrounding the area, accounting for a concentrated majority chunk of the entire state’s residents. There are several islands you can reach by ferry or water taxi and though a little city, there is still always something to do.

Jamie had moved here when he was 21, after a few years saving tips from waiting tables in a diner where he’d grown up. Coming from just a few hours north in the Western sector of the state. Queer kid trying to escape small town restraints by moving to the nearest city. Hoping to make a bunch of likeminded friends and grow into a metropolitan life the tv and movies had promised was out there. Then he’d probably move on to a larger city. Obviously, the latter had yet to happen, if ever.

They pull into a small lot with 3 cars parked and a large wooden sign. Hand carved letters with leafy vined filigree reading Casco Bay Sanctuary. Jamie enters a generous tip and five-star review on the app, “Thank You.” He slips out of the car and trots toward the trail.

The afternoon sun has warmed the outdoors and unfamiliar physical exertion warms his body. It isn’t long before Jamie decides the sweater is unnecessary and knots it around his waist. The fresh air feels invigorating. He really should do this more often.

Thunder of the flowing River splitting into a web of small streams, puttering of squirrels through the fallen leaves and songs of chirping birds create a sound barrier that blocks out any inkling there are busy streets and neighborhoods just several yards away. He passes a young couple hiking out as he makes his way along wood plank walks hovering over a grassy marsh, before reaching the dense tree cover. Footbridges cross over streams and split log stairways making it easier to get around large boulders and uneven terrain. Jamie pauses his stride, leaning elbows on the rail of an arched bridge to soak in the sight of a small waterfall feeding into the most charming pond underfoot. A snapping turtle floats about, popping its head through the surface to grab some air. Trailing bubbles behind as it submerges back to the weedy depths.

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