Page 23 of Controlled Burn
We stood there for a second, looking at each other, and then I realized what he was waiting for. “Sorry, come on in.”
“You go ahead and eat. I don’t want your food to get cold.” He motioned towards the coffee table where my food was all spread out.
“Yeah, I will. Do you want something to drink, though? I have bottled water, wine, and there may be a couple of beers left from last month’s book club meeting, if you want one of those.”
“Water would be fine. But I can get it.” He started towards the kitchen, and I hurried to take a seat and attack my fries. The sandwich would be fine if it cooled down, but the Dairy Barn had some of the very best fries in town, and I wanted to eat them while they were still warm, at least.
I dipped one into the container of gravy and let out a little moan when I popped it into my mouth.
“Dairy Barn, huh?” Keith asked, taking a seat in the armchair to my right.
“Yeah. It’s a mid-week treat.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, letting me know he didn’t believe me for a minute.
“I was trying this thing where I prepped my food for the week on Sundays, but it didn’t work so good. I would spend all day getting all the food ready, but then the day of, it wouldn’t be what I wanted, so I would grab something, or maybe I’d forget to set it out, and it was too late to cook it from frozen, and it’d be easier to order a pizza. It seemed like a good idea, but in the end, it wasn’t, you know.” Fuck Caleb, shut up. He didn’t want to sit there and listen to me ramble on about my stupid food prep experiment. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure my Tuesday night eating habits aren’t what you wanted to talk about.”
I dipped another bunch of fries into the gravy and popped them into my mouth.
“It isn’t. But gravy, not ketchup?”
“Only when I get the chicken-fried steak sandwich. Otherwise, I’m a ketchup guy all the way.”
He nodded his head like I’d just said something profound. “Makes sense.”
We sat there for a minute, neither of us saying anything. I wasn’t sure what this was about exactly. My guess was that he wanted to lecture me about going out in groups, or maybe he was going to suggest I stay away from Daddy Night. But I was sure it had something to do with Saturday night, and apparently, he wasn’t going to say it until I’d finished eating.
“So, what do you think about my dad’s plan to make outdoor furniture?” I asked because eating while we sat there in silence was weird.
“I think it’s a good idea. You were right. He needed a hobby.”
I laughed. “I was thinking something like golf or tennis or something that would get him out of the house, but this works. At least it gets him out from in front of the television.”
That question seemed to break the ice, and we made small talk while I finished up my food. By the time I shoved the last bit of sandwich in my mouth, I’d had enough and just wanted him to get on with this, whatever it was. I wadded up the trash and put it back in the sack it’d all come in. Then, I went to the kitchen to throw it away.
While I was in there, I got myself a glass of wine because I had a feeling this talk was going to call for it. Then I joined him back in the living room.
“Okay, go ahead and hit me with it. What did you want to talk about?”
He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was nervous, but surely there was nothing a big ole guy like Keith would want to say to me that would make him feel that way.
“I wanted to talk to you about this”—he paused and ran his hand up and down his thighs—“curiosity of yours.”
“I told you I was done with that. You know what they say curiosity does.” And thanks to him, I was totally done. Hell, I couldn’t even fantasize about a Daddy or read a Daddy book because every time I did, my previous fantasy Daddy’s face had been replaced with Keith’s face. Damn him for storming over to the rescue and growling at that douchebag to get his hands off his boy.
He cocked his head to one side and looked at me. “Sure, I know. But cats have nine lives, don’t they? So are you really done with it, or did things just not go the way you thought they would?”
I wasn’t sure exactly how to answer him because, no, things didn’t go the way I thought they would, but I wasn’t sure what else to do about it other than put the idea away. I couldn’t sign up on a dating app as a boy because I didn’t know what a Daddy would expect from me. Hell, I didn’t even know if I was a boy, and I didn’t know how to find out without putting myself out there, and that was way too risky for me.
“Listen, Caleb, I don’t think you should give up on the idea so quickly.”
“You don’t?” I asked. That was about the last thing I expected him to say, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“No, I don’t. I told you the other night that I thought it made sense for you to be a boy.”
I thought back to what he’d said the other night, and I was positive that wasn’t it. “No, you didn’t. What you said was that I was a Daddy’s wet dream. Which is not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” he asked, looking totally baffled.