Page 29 of This Thing With Charlie

“I spoke to Graham earlier.”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. I knew what he was like. He went down and chatted to Graham after work sometimes, keeping him company until closing time. I knew it was something he cherished, just the way I loved my mornings with Graham by my side, me chatting away as he quietly sipped his coffee and read the paper, letting me get on with things, my way. But I also knew he worried, the same way I worried. The future was bright, but there would be sadness there too because life didn’t go on forever.

“He needs to think about slowing down,” Daniel said, looking at me from under his curls. “His blood results were not ideal, and if we could get him some help with his tablets…”

“I keep reminding him.”

“I know. We both do. He’s just getting older, and he’s doing too much. He says he needs the company, and I agree he does, but maybe we should get someone in to man the bakery in the afternoons, so he can sit in a comfy chair and just chat to the customers? I think he would enjoy that.”

“I was more thinking, maybe...” I started because I had been thinking about that too. It had become a worry and was something that we needed to change. “I think we should just stop the early mornings and, perhaps, just stay open in the afternoon. That way, he could do a few hours a day, and I could concentrate on the catering. Using the space wisely and managing time better would ease up the machinery too. If we got someone else in to bake off the basics in the mornings, then I could head up the dayshift and still manage the teaching…”

“You love the teaching, don’t you?” he said softly, stroking the hair out of my face.

“I love it,” I admitted. I loved the students, the college and the thrill of sharing what I loved. I felt almost like an adult there, and it was still a thrill to have students greet me in the street, calling me Mr Porter and introducing me to their friends. I thought I might even be good at it too. At least, that was what the headteacher told me in my last evaluation. And the students? They were fun. Challenging sometimes, but fun.

“You’re thinking too hard again. Stop it.”

“Can’t stop it,” I muttered into his chest.

“I was talking to Mrs Pasankar today, and she said her daughter had come up with a business model where we could just throw the whole bakery industry on its head and have a reception desk in store.”

“That’s hardly ground-breaking.” I smiled because he was looking so excited about whatever he was going to tell me, his hands all animated as he pulled out some papers from his bag.

“Say we have someone man the counter but have Graham in a comfy reception desk by the door. We could remodel it on the cheap, just a lick of paint, and invest in the furniture. We could call it a bake-ception.”

“Bake-ception…” I sniggered, then I smiled. It wasn’t a bad idea. “It needs to be cosy, darker colours, candles, and you know, greens and browns. Perhaps we could get a licence to serve coffee? Not that this town needs more coffee shops, but if we could have a good machine and a full-time barista, then Graham could keep an eye on things. I have a student who might need a part-time job. Good kid, always broke, but is really passionate about what he does. I think he could fit in well, then we could offer apprenticeships to cover the hours, and between us all?”

“Don’t think too hard,” Daniel whispered, placing a kiss on my lips. “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore.”

I kept forgetting, even though I shouldn’t. I had him, and he had me as I smiled into his kisses.

“You’ve got me now,” he said.

“I know,” I would reply every day when he said it because we did have each other, and we had each other’s backs too, even when eggs got broken and things went wrong.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Daniel laughed and left me in the kitchen as he disappeared out into the hallway, returning with a huge thing wrapped in brown paper.

“What is that?” I laughed as he excitedly placed it on the worktop.

“It’s a Christmas tree. Well, it’s a tiny one but look. It’s a sapling in a pot, so we will keep it for this year, and it’s got its own little tinsel and baubles and stuff already, but the lady at the florist said if we plant it outside in January, then it will take root and grow into a proper tree. So, we can use it every year, and like, put lights outside.”

He looked a little sheepish as I just stood there.

“I mean, we’ll get a proper Christmas tree too. I just thought, you know. We would put down roots. Our first tree, and it will go in the garden so we can keep it forever.”

“You know fir trees can grow up to sixty metres tall or even taller in the right conditions?”

“Yeah? So? We can cut the top down and burn it in our fireplace. Recycling and all that. We’ll just have to keep trimming it back.”

“Roots. We can’t plant them and then just burn them.”

“We’re not cutting it down. It can be like our baby. We’ll just top it a little and use the cut off as a Christmas tree. It’ll be fine, Charlie.”

“You’re nuts, Daniel.”

“I know. I’m your boyfriend. What was I thinking? Must have been one hell of a midlife crisis last year.”

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