Page 2 of Haunted Mediation
Leon laughed, a sound that had no right being as warm and inviting as it was, before stepping back from James’ chair.
James had never had a friend he could be physically affectionate with. Or, well, no, that wasn’t quite right. When he’d been a kid and still identifying as a girl, he’d had a lot of close girl friends he’d snuggle up with at sleepovers or on the bus ride home from a long day of coloring and learning fractions. In adulthood, though, most of his physical affection had been through random hookups, or hugs and supportive hand holding with his mom.
James' world had practically turned upside down the first time Leon rested his boot-clad ankle against James’ under the table at their favorite coffee shop.
It wasn’t like James had been afraid of what anyone might think if they saw the casual intimacy. The café was called the Rainbow Bean, after all. The owners, who had both attended the university where Leon worked and earned his computer science degree, ensured that everyone knew the café was inclusive of all genders and sexualities.
It wasn’t even that he hadn’t wanted Leon to touch him, which would have been accurate only a few months before. No, what had rocked James’ world was that in that one gesture, Leon had managed to break down every last wall James had been holding up between them.
After that, James had been an open book to Leon. He’d told him, in great detail, about his mom’s cancer diagnosis, which had led to him putting his career, friendships, and love life on hold for almost a decade, and about how, meanwhile, his dad had run off to live his own life without the shackles his family had apparently become. James told Leon about his ex, Eli, and his horrible first job, and he even told him about some of the nastier things Antonelli had said to him that still kept him up at night.
Leon had listened—over coffee, while splitting Chinese food on his couch, in line for the movies, and as recently as last week, while sitting with their shoulders pressed together at an ice cream parlor. He’d listened to all of James’ stories for almost seven months, and every time, he made sure that some part of them, whether it be their pinkies, ankles, knees, or shoulders, was touching.
On top of that, Leon had slowly opened up to him as well. It had taken a lot longer, and there was still a lot James didn’t know about him, but little by little, he’d peeled back that bad boy shell and given James a glimpse of the real him. Not soft, not squishy, but fiercely loyal and sometimes even kind.
God, James was such a cliché. Of course, he’d fallen for the bad boy who showed him kindness and even an ounce of physical affection.
“Who would I assault with stress balls if you got fired?” Leon asked.
James turned around just in time for the stress ball to bounce off his forehead and right back into Leon’s hand.
Their eyes met, and James tried; he really did. He prided himself on being the bigger person in front of his minions, in staff meetings, and even sometimes with Leon. But today, he just couldn’t help himself.
“I guess you’d just have to start pegging someone else.”
“Mom, I told you I could get that for you,” James said and hurried to take theembarrassinglyheavy box from his mother.
“Oh, thank you, honey. Now I can grab the skeleton,” his mom said, heading back up the attic ladder.
“Mom!” James moaned as he struggled to lift the box onto the kitchen counter and follow her up the ladder.
“Yes, dear?” she asked, shuffling across the rickety attic floor towards the Halloween skeleton in the corner.
She hadn’t always shuffled. Before the cancer, she’d been a half-marathon runner, but the year of IV chemo had given her peripheral neuropathy in all of her extremities. A fair amount of it had gone away, and physical therapy was doing wonders to help her fingers and hands, but her feet still didn’t seem to want to lift up as high as they used to.
James pushed down his innate fear of spiders, creepy crawlies, and floors that may or may not fall out from under him, and he scurried along the perimeter wall to head his mother off at the skeleton. “I know you’ve been feeling a lot better these past few months, but how about we don’t push it right before the holiday weekend?”
His mom seemed to consider this, and James took advantage of her pause to scoop up the skeleton, a pumpkin cut-out, and one final box of Halloween decorations. He gestured for her to go down the ladder first, and after making sure she made it downokay, he handed down the lighter decorations before carrying down the box.
“Have you decided what you’re doing on my favorite holiday?” His mom started pulling fake spiderwebs out of the box James was holding. “And it better not be sitting around here, cramping my style.”
“Is it cramping your style if I hide in my bedroom eating candy and watching campy horror movies?” James asked, only slightly kidding.
“James Catrina Bigley,” she said, and James tried not to cringe at his unfortunately gendered middle name.
When he’d gone through his name change, he’d been in such a rush, dealing with his mom’s recent cancer diagnosis and his rapid change of career plans, he’d completely failed to pick a new middle name for himself. The years had passed, and he’d never gotten around to changing it. His mom had offered to switch to “Cat” for when she full-named him, but that didn’t feel right either.
For the most part, James didn’t mind it, but today was one of those days it rubbed him a little raw.
His mom took in his expression and stopped rifling through the box. “How about Ryan?”
James shuffled through his very limited mental rolodex and came up empty. “How about Ryan…for Halloween plans?”
She blinked at him. “Do you know a Ryan?”
James’ elbow gave an angry twinge, and he sidestepped his mom to deposit the box on the counter next to the other one. “No, I don’t, so why are you asking about a Ryan?”
His mom walked up beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. She’d finally begun gaining some weight back—which James knew he should stop tracking because his therapist said it wasn’t healthy for him, but he couldn’t help it. Her grip strengthwas also coming back, and he was so busy reveling in the solidity of her grip on his arm that he almost missed her next words.
