Page 44 of Check Me Out

Han sets a hand on his shoulder, steadying but not heavy. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be comfortable here. But we can go somewhere else if it’s distressing.”

“It’s not…. For two years after I graduated college, I rented a couple of rooms in an old house. It was really cheap and my landlords were sort of grandparenty. I liked that. I spent weekends and holidays wandering around with my camera, and at the time I sort of hoped that…. Well, anyway. I got a much better-paying job in another state and I moved. I haven’t had a lot of free time since then.”

“You loved that home,” Han says.

Joe manages a wry chuckle. “I’ve lived in way better places since then—even my current apartment with the noisy neighbors is pretty fancy—but that old one is still my favorite.”

“Do you want to go?” Han still looks concerned.

“No.” Joe takes a deep breath. Something is seriously wrong with the day, with the supermarket, withhim, and a part of him wants to poke at that idea like prodding a sore tooth. But most of him is too chicken. “This is good.”

He sits on the loveseat, which is even more comfortable than it appears, and leans back into the cushions. He misses wood-burning fireplaces. They’re crappy for air quality, so he understands why they’re going extinct, but their gas replacements don’t have the same appeal. No smell of woodsmoke, no popping of burning sap, no unpredictable small flares.

Han remains standing. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No!” Joe is almost shouting, his heartbeat increasing again. He doesn’t understand his reaction: he likes coffee. He makes some every morning, pours it into a thermal cup, and sips it while driving to work. Right now, however, the very thought of the stuff makes him want to flee in terror.

Surprisingly accepting of Joe’s display, Han sits a few inches away and doesn’t say anything, his gaze trained on the fire, his expression unreadable. Joe has the impression that a lot is going on inside his head.

“Where’s the best place you’ve ever lived?” Joe asks suddenly.

The fire snaps a few times before Han answers. “I’m not sure. I’ve never settled anywhere for long.”

“By choice?”

“Not exactly. By circumstances, I guess I’d say. I don’t mind. But….” Han shrugs. “I find the idea of more permanency appealing. If I had the right person to share that with. I honestly haven’t given it much thought until recently. You know how sometimes you can just sort of stumble along in your existence, not questioning where you’re going or why, not asking yourself whether that’s the direction you truly want?”

Ho boy, Joe certainly does know that. “Or sometimes you stick doggedly to a certain path and refuse to notice any alternate routes.”

“Maybe it’s the right path.”

“But maybe it’s not.”

They look at each other then, mutual understanding tying them together, and for a moment Joe nearly admits that he knows exactly what’s going on. Then his mind shies away from the truth like a nervous pony and he says instead, “Can I ask a personal question?”

Han laughs. “You already have. Several. Not that I’m complaining.”

“A minute ago you said you might like to settle down with the right person. What makes a person right for you?”

It’s dumb for Joe to be asking this. He just met Han, after all, and they live in different cities. Pretty soon Joe will finish his shopping trip and will never see Han again. Never mind that the very notion of that makes his chest feel hollow with grief.

Han, however, isn’t acting as if he thinks the question is stupid. He stares at Joe with glistening eyes and swallows audibly. “I’ve never….” He gives himself a small shake andstraightens his shoulders. “Someone kind and interesting. They don’t care too much about material things or what’s fashionable or what other people think. They appreciate aesthetics but they’re not a snob. They enjoy sitting next to their partner in front of a fire, chatting.”

He looks Joe straight in the eyes as he says the last part.

Joe, who wants desperately to kiss him, looks away first. He isn’t sure he’s right for anyone, and certainly not for Han. It isn’t that there’s anything horribly wrong with Joe—but there’s also nothing wonderfully great. He’s mediocre. A forgettable-looking guy with a decent-paying but boring job; a cookie-cutter apartment with noisy neighbors; a nondescript car with tires that are overdue for replacement. His camera is buried in a closet somewhere. His only big adventure is shopping for dental floss in a very strange supermarket. Even his clothing is entirely blah, just khakis and a pale blue button-up shirt. And the shirt has a rip and bloodstains and—

Joe yelps and twitches and his shirt goes back to normal, but his head throbs worse than ever.

Han scoots closer, not quite near enough for their arms or thighs to touch, but Joe can feel the warmth of his body. “It’s okay,” says Han. “You don’t have to be frightened.”

“I’ve been frightened all my life, though. Too chickenshit to take risks.” His laugh feels sharp in his throat. “I work for an insurance company. My job is all about risks. But I keep my life locked up in a tamper-proof box.”

“You work as a project manager, helping clients rebuild after they’ve met with disaster. Deep in your soul, you believe in finding opportunities for renewal and growth.”

Joe starts to explain why this couldn’t possibly be true… when the realization hits. Han knows, very specifically, what Joe does for a living. But when had Joe told him?

His head hurts so much that he almost vomits, and at the same time a tearing agony hits him in the gut. He feels as if he’s been simultaneously hit on the skull with a mallet and stabbed, and all he can see is a dizzying display of flashing red and blue lights.

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