Page 18 of Over and Above

“Brain weasels loud?” I asked as I cleared both our plates. Cooking together had been a rare delight. Montgomery had been a fussy gourmet chef who was rather territorial in his kitchen. I had been a more than competent sous chef, but with Magnus, the task had been more a sharing between equals than one of us assisting the other. “Brain weasels is my name for when my brain refuses to shut off.”

Shaking his head, Magnus didn’t so much as crack a smile. “More like there’s a pack of hungry wolves right outside the door, and I just don’t want to let them in or toss food to them.”

“Ah. I get that.” Did I ever. That feeling like one more decision or task might well be the death of one, but also knowing that sitting down for even a moment might mean falling apart. “As a professional, I should tell you it’s good to let yourself acknowledge and feel your feelings, even the overwhelming ones. But as a human who has dealt with far too many of those feelings over the last few years, I sympathize. Want to watch a movie?”

“I shouldn’t keep you up any later.” Magnus gestured vaguely as he followed me to the sink, but his eager eyes gave him away.

“I’ve got enough of my own sleep issues.” I flipped the faucet sprayer on decisively. “Let me worry about that. And besides, I can subject you to my terrible taste in movies.”

“How terrible?” Magnus sounded genuinely curious.

“I have a deep love of classic comedies, much to my high-brow spouse’s horror,” I confessed. I’d happily sat through many independent films and artsy shows, but Montgomery had never cured me of my first love.

“Laughing over stupid shit sounds perfect, honestly.” He glanced at his dogs sprawled near the breakfast nook with the treat bones he’d brought them. They looked far more settled than their owner.

“Good.” I offered a grateful smile. I would have sat through something with explosions or more thinky, but Magnus sharing my taste was an unexpected bonus. “Thanks to insomnia, I have certain favorites I can recite from memory, but there’s something comforting about predictable humor.”

We cleaned up our late-night dinner as easily as we’d cooked it. I rinsed while Magnus loaded, and then he found a dishtowel while I did the skillets. By the time I’d moved on to wiping down the stove, he already had a sponge out for the counters.

“Is cleaning your other go-to de-stressor?” Glancing up from cleaning the counters, he smiled knowingly at my wiping down the already-spotless fridge door.

“That obvious?” I grimaced. Montgomery had been one of my few friends who approved of my fastidious ways. Even Jonas, who enjoyed a good cleaning sprint, liked to give me a hard time. “I was always the neat roommate, even back in college. And for all that I’m not close with my parents anymore, the urge to put everything in its place before I allow myself to relax is probably genetic.”

“Fair enough.” Magnus shrugged rather than making the offensive-yet-all-too-common OCD joke I’d expected. “Cleaning wasn’t my parents’ thing at all. And no way was Flo ever going to be domestic. But when Diesel was little, I figured out that kids need routine. And even though it didn’t come naturally to me, picking up at the end of the day always felt like the one thing I could get right.” Counters done and dried, he quickly rinsed the sponge before meeting my gaze. “Which is a long-winded way of saying I admire you natural neatniks.”

“You got more than the cleaning right.” Done with my tasks, I joined him at the sink, intending to clap him on the shoulder. His very bare, very tattooed shoulder. His collection of ink was like a travelogue on his skin—Indonesian-style bicep cuff, Japanese koi on his shoulder, Hawaiian-looking flowers on his pec, French words across his upper back, and other stops along the way.Danger. Danger.It wouldn’t do to study his art too closely. I dropped my hand but continued the compliment. “Even tonight, which has to be right up there as far as terrible nights for you, you put your kid first.”

“He’s going to be pissed I didn’t call, but I was also thinking of Maren.” Leaning against the counter, Magnus exhaled hard. “A year is a long time to wait for a wedding, and both of them deserve a little fun in the middle of all the logistics and practicalities.”

“Well said. I’m undoubtedly going to be the practical grandpa, but you’ve got the fun one covered.” Trying to be the distraction Magnus needed, I worked to keep a light tone.

Magnus joined me in chuckling. “Look at you, saying the G-word and not wincing.”

“Progress.” I led the way to the living room with its large sectional sofa. I grabbed the remote to fire up the various streaming services on the TV. “You want me to pick the movie?”

“Please.” Magnus’s voice took on an edge I knew well, the heavy burden of decision fatigue an almost palpable weight. Also weighty? The question of where to sit. Magnus threw himself on one side of the couch, rather clearly leaving the other half for me. It would likely be rude to retreat to the recliner.

“What’s your stance on sports?” I carefully left a person-sized distance between us as I sat sedately on the opposite end. The dogs wandered in, and with none of my indecision, they flopped on the floor near Magnus.

“Don’t ask me to participate on a team, but I’m down with watching just about anything.” He gave an easy shrug as he relaxed into the couch, a sprawl that brought him closer to me. I purposefully glanced away, focusing on scrolling through the streaming app until I found the ensemble football comedy that had been my first choice. No pesky romance or sex scenes to make an awkward situation even more so, but it offered an uplifting, if highly predictable, plot. And luckily, Magnus smiled wide as I cued it up. “Oh, perfect choice.”

“You’ve seen it?” I was somewhat surprised as the movie hadn’t been a runaway box office smash, but Magnus’s grin seemed genuine. Maybe we truly did share similar TV tastes.

“Of course.” Magnus gestured at the TV. “Push Play. I love the opening sequence of this one. Gets me every time.”

“Me too.” I pressed Play on the remote, but my unusually chatty mood continued even as the main character went through a downward spiral that would eventually lead to the team of misfits. “Was routine why you came to Mount Hope?” My brain kept returning to Magnus’s comments earlier. Movies weren’t all we had in common. “Given your love of travel, I’m surprised you and Diesel didn’t end up somewhere more exciting and urban.”

“You nailed it.” Magnus pointed at me like he was picking a winner for a prize. “We traveled more when he was little. I wanted a decent school system for Diesel for middle and high school. I liked Portland a lot, and we’d used that as a home base for a few years, but then I heard about the old bank building for sale in Mount Hope. Seemed like the perfect opportunity to put down some roots while Diesel was in school.”

“The town’s lucky to have you. If nothing else, you’ve added to the local foodie scene, and it’s nice to have a spot with an inclusive reputation to grab a few drinks with a mixed crowd.”

“Exactly.” Magnus nodded at the TV. “Look at that group of players—right now, they have nothing in common, but by the end of this movie, they’ll all be buddies. Gay, straight, different races and backgrounds. I wanted a spot where anyone could feel comfortable hanging out.”

“You succeeded.”

Cheeks turning dusky, Magnus seemed more bashful as he turned his attention fully toward the movie. I did the same, enjoying the movie as much as I had the cleaning. We rooted for the same characters and laughed at the same jokes, and while our conversation dwindled, it was a very chill vibe.

So relaxing, in fact, that about midway through the movie, Mangus started to drift off. First, he put his legs up on the chaise portion of the couch, which brought the rest of him perilously close to me. However, I was reluctant to move to the recliner and interrupt the movie and his sleepiness. If he could rest, he should.

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