Page 40 of Why Cheese?
“Those are…” I nearly touch him but Brie jerks back and stares at me. He looks like a startled deer staring down the blue headlights of an alien spaceship. “Your tattoos are beautiful.”
“Oh?” He digs into his shoulder to peer over it. “I nearly forgot they were back there.”
“Do they mean something?”
“That I was easily misled in my youth, and I thought that pain equaled manliness.” He graces the tip of his finger against the black line sweeping just below his shoulder. “They nearly killed me. An infection put me in bed for months. It’s why I became a clerk instead of the sailor my father wanted.”
“I’m…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Brie smiles, twists his shirts for another wring, then lays them on the sink. “I would have hated it. All that salty air, fish, rocking back and forth in the sun. Blisters. Ugh.”
He so easily assuages my awkwardness, I nearly smile. But I can feel sadness and regret entwined with the life that never was.
“A doctor,” I say, holding my hand just above my heart.
“Hmm?”
“I was going to be a doctor. Was studying to be one. Pre-med. I didn’t get much past sophomore year.” The gremlin grew louder along with the whispers, people always noticing that I’d touch a doorknob too much, miss classes because I’d be in the bathroom for an hour washing. As the stress grew, so did the rituals. They ate up half my day until there was no time for studying or class.
I force on a smile. “Chemistry kicked my butt.”
“Did you want to be a doctor?” he asks, turning softly to look at me.
I nod out of habit. I was so used to being introduced as Violette the future doctor that thinking anything else is drinking orange juice after brushing my teeth. “I don’t know. No? My mom wanted it so bad. When I flunked out she was furious.”
Brie jerks his head and walks back to the bathroom. I bite my lip to keep from crying.Way to kill the mood, Vi. Just keep dragging them down to your level as if they don’t have problems of their own.
A loud grunt breaks from the bathroom. I brace for more water, but Brie walks out with a wrench slung over his shoulder. “I shut off the valve so it won’t keep running.” He drops the wrench to the ground and nervously rubs his hands. “I’m no good at this. At any of it. Cheddy could have gotten your toilet working so well it’d probably wipe you while playing music.”
I chuckle at the idea until I notice the red in Brie’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. “And the cheese. You’d think a man who turns into brie every morning would at least be able to figure out how to make cheese. Nope. No matter how many times Roq teaches me, I can’t remember it all. In one ear and out the other. I’ll forget the salt, or I’ll over-stir it, or I’ll leave the cheesecloth on while packaging it. Stupid little things. All I’m good for is cleaning.”
Easing closer, I drift my palm near his bare shoulder. Brie’s so focused on wringing his hands, I’m not certain if he notices. I grace just the tip of my fingers against his skin. His lips part and he sighs as I keep going. Past his sloping shoulders, I brush the nape of his neck and playfully bat around his soggy hair.
“At least there’s no fish,” I say.
Brie laughs so hard that he snorts. “Indeed. There are small miracles after all.”
“What would you do?” I ask. “If you didn’t have to be a sailor, or a clerk, or a cheese maker, or a fighter of broken toilets?”
“This is silly.” He looks away and I slip in front of him, trying to chase his eyes.
“Come on. Can it be any sillier than cheese-men?” I ask.
Brie opens his mouth, his chest rising in anticipation. Then he licks his lip and stares at the ground.
“Is it a writer?” I ask, placing my hand on his other shoulder.
“No. Though, being paid a handsome stipend to read books would be nice.”
It dawns on me that I’m very nearly hugging the half-naked man. All I have to do is slip my hands around his back and pull his bare chest to mine. Not that mine’s bare. I’ve got clothes on. Of course.
Is it hot in here?
My nerves kick into high gear the longer I stand there, not knowing what to say or do. Should I let go? Slide back? Lean to the side for a friendly half hug so he doesn’t…?
Brie glides his soft palm against my cheek, tracing his thumb down my smile line before he leans closer. “I want to be a painter.”
“That’s—”
