Page 36 of Narrow Margins
To say I’m impressed with Troy and Raff’s place is an understatement. It’s a stunning, modern house but it looks like it’s been here for years, blending in with the surrounding pinewood and shore line. The wealth is obvious but not overstated or garish: it suits them perfectly.
One of the reasons I was up for coming here is to talk to Troy about the bathroom flooring, I’ve had a look online and there are plenty of materials that look good but offer a safer surface for Corrie to move on.
Corrie walks through the house comfortably, he has clearly spent many hours here. He peers over his shoulder and stretches his hand out behind his back, urging me to hurry up. Grasping it, I pull him back to me.
“I don’t want to be here too long, I need a shower and you. I sure need you.” The tip of my tongue peeks out and dampens my bottom lip.
“Fuck! Griff, we didn’t need to come at all.” I sigh and laugh at the same time. We saunter out together, it’s the same crowd as at the racetrack but there are more women and children now. It looks like a photoshoot for Gucci: young, beautiful, wealthy and successful people. There was a time when I would’ve been jealous, but now? Now my bank account has plenty of zeroes at the end of the balance.
Corrie looks out over the scene and releases a low chuckle, “Jeez, it’s like an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.” He shakes his head.
“I thought more Gucci, but I bet they save that look for the evening. C’mon, Corrie, you grew up with money, this must look normal for you?”
Corrie gazes at me like I’ve spoken Dutch. “No way, Griff, this is what happy, successful people should look like. My family’s cook-outs included waiting staff, cooks and a shit-ton of backstabbing and one-upmanship. My father is a vicious, evil bully. Every man at our table would have been afraid or in my father’s pocket, there was no fun or children playing.”
I watch as Corrie shakes his head ruefully before carrying on. “Sawyer and I would be dressed in identical business suits and had to sit and stay silent.” A look that borders despair sweeps across his face.
“Who’s Sawyer?” I’m trying to work out what I’ve missed, is there another sibling?
“Did I say Sawyer? Shit, don’t let Raff hear you say that! Sawyer was Raff’s name before I nearly had him killed at my father’s hand.”
I observe Corrie’s face as the pain of his past runs through him. “Don’t think back, Corr; look forward. You have him in your life,” I nudge him with my shoulder, “and you have me now.”
Troy looks up from playing with a young boy and calls out to us, laughing as he picks up the child. I bet it’s not long until he becomes a father, by the look of longing on his face.
After an hour, I see Corrie has had enough, he keeps looking over at me, his face hungry. My body hums for him, I ache for his touch. We have spent our nights wrapped in each other’s arms and have shared our lives. I have told him of my neglected childhood, how I was ignored for the most part or beaten about when the mood took them. Of how Tanner saved my life by his tough love; his kindness held no bounds as he encouraged and enthused over my improving grades, as well as my skill on his bikes.
Corrie spoke a little of his home life but filled our nights with his time in the army, the pranks and jokes they would play on each other. But, also, the time in the desert when fear became the norm and life became utterly fragile. He talked of the horrors of pink mist as IED’s detonated and bodies were annihilated, thrown meters high. I held him as he shook from the shock of losing friends and then, finally, a part of himself.
Our relationship has become so much more than I thought it ever could be. I hate to admit that holding back has built us up solid. I am getting nervous, I hope he will be satisfied with me. I’m sure anything he does to me is going to be amazing, but I’m afraid I may not be good enough for him.
Right then I see Troy on his own. Quickly striding up to him, I reach out to touch his arm. Turning and giving me a happy smile, he asks pleasantly, “You okay, Griff?”
“Yeah, I just want to run something past you. It’s about Corrie’s bathroom floor.” I rake my fingers through my already messy hair. “It’s just not safe for him, I’ve looked into different, safer flooring, with better grip and it’s easy to fix for him.”
“What do you mean, it’s not safe?” Troy looks confused.
“It’s too slippery, you wouldn’t believe how tricky it is for him to move across it on one leg. He has to make sure he’s completely dry, has his crutches in easy reach and he still has to be so careful. He’s had one fall since I’ve been here, how many has he had that you don’t know about?”
Troy’s looks horrified as he examines Corrie talking to his brother. “I haven’t thought about it, shit! That’s terrible. I’m sorry, Griff. Look, do what you need to do and bill me for the work. I can’t believe I never thought about it.” He looks back to me, “I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned this to him yet?”
“No, not yet, he’s a stubborn mule of a man and he doesn’t want to be babied, but I want him safe. I may not always be there when he showers, so I need to be sure that he’s as safe as he can be.” When I peek at him, I see a frown on his face as he looks at me and Troy, he’s questioning us.
“He is such a strong man, I guess we forget he has a disability.” Troy stops and looks at me when I growl.
“He’s not disabled, he has challenges that we will never understand completely. I just want to make his life as easy and full as I can.”
“You’re a good man, Griff; I can see how much he means to you. Do it, man.” Troy claps his hand on my shoulder as Corrie approaches us.
“You ready to go, baby?” I run my hand down his neck and shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s been an exciting day but I’m ready to chill out.” Corrie turns to Troy, “Thanks, man, it’s been a great day. Oh, your husband is crap at keeping secrets. I’m thrilled for you both. Good luck, Troy.”
“The fucker! Thanks, Corrie, see you on Monday. Night, Griff.” Troy stalks off to find Raff.
“Come on, let’s go.” I slip my hand into Corrie’s back pocket as we walk to the car, pulling it slowly out, sliding it over the curve of his ass, as we reach the vehicle. When he turns to me, Corrie’s eyes are dark and heavy. “You gonna be okay to drive?”
“Yeah, as long as you keep your hands off me.” Corrie shakes his head but he smiles.