The fights had stopped too. They had both adapted. They were both making compromises. And compromises, Theo reminded himself, were part of mature relationships. He and Ian, for example, had made plenty of compromises: they bought the beers Ian liked, but Theo usually picked their movies. That’s what a relationship was all about: compromise.
So Theo made compromises. He parked the Malibu on the street, where it was buried in snow, so that Cart could get his truck into the garage.
“Why does it matter if someone sees your truck?”
“It doesn’t matter. I just don’t like it sitting out in front of your house every night.”
And Theo had let it go; that was a compromise.
On Friday night, at the end of a long week, Cart was stretched out on the couch, shouting at the Blues as they gave up the first goal. Cart was in sweats, his preferred winter loungewear, with huge, fuzzy wool socks. Theo was in a hoodie and shorts, a blanket over his legs, flipping back and forth in his Riverside to reference the right lines from Romeo and Juliet. The television was on a lot more these days, and Theo had to concentrate extra hard.
Cart nudged him with one fuzzy sock.
“I’m working,” Theo said, slapping his ankle. “Jesus Christ, will you watch it with those fucking hooves? I’m going to have a bruise.”
“For the eighth time, do you want to order pizza?”
“Yes, fine. Just get whatever you want; you know I’ll eat it.”
A car commercial came on. Jerry Reese looked heavier on TV, in a suit that had probably cost a lot of money but didn’t seem to fit him. “Our New Year’s sale has been extended! Get in while you can. I’m practically giving these cars away!”
“Change the channel,” Theo said.
Cart didn’t. He just said, “So, about that pizza?”
“Oh,” Theo said. “Right.” He got out his phone, called in an order for an extra-large supreme, and at the last minute added garlic knots. Another compromise: Theo always ordered the takeout and delivery. Cart didn’t mind paying, but he wouldn’t make the call.
For the next half hour, Theo worked, and Cart got them each another beer, and on the return trip he lay down with his head in Theo’s lap, and Theo rubbed the short, bristly hair while he read. When the knock came at the door, Cart got up without a word, tossed cash to Theo, and went to the bathroom.
As Theo answered the door, he told himself it wasn’t worth a fight. What would he say, anyway? I’ve noticed you have to pee every time someone knocks on the door. You bought me flowers, and you forgot to hide the receipt, and I saw you drove all the way to St. Elizabeth to buy them at the CVS instead of from the Piggly Wiggly just up the street. When neighbor kids were having a snowball fight and they got too close to the house, you closed the blinds. And Theo knew that if he said any of those things or all of them, Cart would pretend he didn’t understand. He might even pretend they hadn’t happened.
Theo gave the pizza girl an extra-large tip courtesy of Cart.
Cart came back from the bathroom. They ate pizza, the cheese and sauce still hot, the sausage spicy, the peppers and mushrooms just exactly the right degree of crisp. When they finished eating, Cart cleaned up, and when he came back, he sat next to Theo, put his arm around his shoulders, and kissed his neck.
“I’ve got to finish these articles,” Theo said.
“I didn’t even say anything, you cocky son of a bitch. Mind your own fucking business.”
Theo flipped the page.
Cart bit his earlobe. His hand landed on Theo’s knee, knocked the blanket aside, and slid up under his shirts.
“Howard Cartwright,” Theo said.
“Just keep doing your work. I’m fine over here.”
When Cart groped him through the boxers, Theo’s highlighter skidded off course, leaving a long yellow slash across the page.
“Oops,” Cart whispered, his breath hot on the side of Theo’s face. “You get distracted?”
Theo shifted in his seat, but Cart had an arm around him and wouldn’t let him slip away. His fingers wormed under the elastic. His thumb brushed the side of Theo’s dick.
“Shit,” Theo whispered. “Why are you so much fucking trouble?”
“Because I’m a fucking redneck who’s hungry for pecker,” Cart said. “Why else?” He kissed Theo’s cheek, and the gesture was surprisingly hesitant. “Who made you so goddamn cute?”
Theo rolled his eyes, turning to face Cart, letting out a sound of appreciation as Cart stroked his thumb lightly against Theo again. “Cute?”
“Beautiful,” Cart said quietly. “You’re just the god-fucking-damnedest most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Theo’s throat was tight. He blinked a few times.
“Who made you so goddamn smart too? I wish I was half as smart as you.”
“You’re plenty smart,” Theo said. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
Shaking his head solemnly, Cart said, “No, sir. But I am the luckiest son of a bitch on God’s green earth. I want to show you how lucky I am.” He squeezed once, making Theo gasp, and then he pulled away, tugging off his sweatshirt.
An alarm sounded on Theo’s phone.
“Shit,” Theo said.
Cart groaned. “No way. Whatever it is, it can wait.” He gave another tug.
Squirming free, Theo got to his feet and said, “Deja’s demonstration is tonight.”
“What?” Cart asked.
“The demonstration. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Theo jogged upstairs. Behind him, he could hear Cart grumbling.
He grabbed jeans and thick socks because the temperature had continued to drop over the course of the day; tonight, it would be well below freezing. Then he went downstairs.
Cart was staring at the TV.
As Theo pulled on his socks and a pair of boots, he said, “What? You’re mad at me? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He tried to smile. “I still want you to show me how lucky you think you are.”
Clutching the remote so tightly that his knuckles were white, Cart said, “I think I might spend the night at my place.”
“You’re joking, right? You’ve got a case of blue balls, so now you’re mad at me?”
“I’m mad at you,” Cart said, punching the power button to turn off the TV, “because you’re going out there to support people who hate the police. I don’t have any fucking idea why you need to do that. This is more of your ivory tower fucking nose-in-the-air bullshit.”
Standing, Theo put his hands on his hips. “Do you want to run that by me again?
“I said,” Cart threw down the remote, “you are going out there to support people who want to fucking kill the police.” Cart’s gaze came up, challenging, to fix Theo. “Did I stutter?”
“OK,” Theo said. “OK. Yeah, maybe you should spend the night at your place.”
Cart made a disgusted noise in his throat.