If Calix's voice had held even a little pity, Rhett would've made up an excuse to walk out, but it didn't. "Yes. But I'm happy Levar gets to celebrate Thanksgiving with Henley's family."
Calix studied him, his sharp brown eyes seeing much more than Rhett liked. "Come celebrate with me," he finally said.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Come over to my place, and we'll hang out so neither of us will be sad and alone."
"You had planned to be sad and alone for Thanksgiving?"
Calix let out a deep sigh. "You have no idea. So come rescue me from another depressing day, would you?"
When he put it like that… "Thank you. I can cook if you want."
Calix grinned. "You'd better because if it depends on me, we'll be eating either takeout or microwave dinners. Cooking is not a skill I've ever mastered beyond making grilled cheese sandwiches and scrambled eggs. And I grill a perfect steak, but that's it."
"Gotcha. I'll cook."
Calix grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, then scribbled something down. He got up from his chair, walked over to Rhett, and handed him the paper. "My address."
"Depending on what time you would like to eat, I may have to get there pretty early to make sure the turkey is done on time."
Calix waved his hand. "Trust me, I'll be up, as I rarely sleep in, so you're welcome to come over whenever."
"Thank you. I appreciate you inviting me."
Words were so woefully inadequate to convey what he felt inside—this warm, fuzzy ball of happiness, relief, and gratitude.
Calix put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Don't make it like it's an act of kindness from me. We're friends. This is as much for me as it is for you, so we're helping each other out, right?"
Warmth spread from Rhett's chest through his body. "Right."
13
Five years. That's how long it had been since Calix had been in this position. He was lounging on the couch, leafing through some magazines while the Thanksgiving parade played on the TV. From the kitchen, the unmistakable sounds of someone cooking drifted in. And so did delicious smells. Whatever Rhett was making would taste fantastic; that much Calix was certain of.
Rhett had shown up with two full shopping bags, and Calix had instantly cursed himself for not realizing Rhett wouldn't be able to park close and would have to log those heavy bags two blocks. He should've thought of that. During the day, his street was pretty much empty, as everyone was at work, but on weekends and holidays, circling the block several times to find a parking spot was normal.
As soon as he'd walked in, Rhett had gotten to work. Calix had offered to help, but Rhett had shooed him out of his kitchen, albeit in the sweetest way. That, too, he hadn't experienced in five years. Matthew had rarely tolerated him in the kitchen, especially when he was cooking more elaborately. He'd once kindly explained Calix's help wasn't much help at all and that it took him longer to instruct or teach to Calix how to do something than to do it himself. Apparently, Rhett belonged to the same club, which was somewhat ironic.
And so Calix found himself on the couch, listening to someone cooking in his kitchen. The familiarity of the clank of pans and chop of a knife all but crushed him, even if Matthew had never lived in this house. In every apartment they'd shared, this had been a daily occurrence, Matthew cooking and Calix setting the table, doing some quick tidying and cleaning before dinner.
Not that there was anything to tidy or clean right now. The day after inviting Rhett, Calix had taken a good look at his house and cringed. He had too much pride to let Rhett see the utter mess he'd allowed to form. Fortunately, he had a cleaning service he'd used before when things had gotten out of hand, and he'd booked an appointment for the day before Thanksgiving.
When he'd come home, his house had been meticulously cleaned, smelling of lemon and bleach. The improvement had been staggering, and that was an understatement. He'd also run laundry, washed all the dishes, and even bought a house plant to replace the one that had died months ago and that he'd finally thrown out. His house hadn't looked this inviting since the day he had moved in. Go him.
When he'd set the table, wanting to make sure everything was ready, the grief had hit him so hard it had almost brought him to his knees, and he'd spent a good half hour bawling his eyes out. At least he'd gotten that over with before Rhett arrived. They might be well on their way to becoming friends, but Rhett didn't need to see Calix's pain. He had enough grief of his own to deal with.
"How's the parade?"
Calix looked up from the magazine he'd been staring at without reading a word. "Huh?"
Rhett pointed at the TV. "The parade. You were watching, right?"
"That depends on your definition of watching. The TV was on, let me put it that way. But even if you paid me, I couldn't tell you what the parade looked like."
Much to his surprise, Rhett didn't laugh. In fact, he didn't even smile. His face was tight, brows furrowed. "I haven't been able to watch a parade in the last five years…" he said softly.
"God, I'm so sorry." Calix picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have turned it on. Like I said, I wasn't even watching."
"You didn't need to stop watching. I just said I haven't been able to see it. That doesn't mean you can't."
"I know, but I don't need to have it on. It's not like it's a requirement for me to celebrate Thanksgiving. I turned it on because I was sitting here by myself and wanted something to break the silence."
Rhett's face softened. "Silence is hard."
Gratitude flowed through Calix. Rhett had immediately understood the deeper layer of his statement. No need for explanations here. "Yeah."
"The turkey needs to cook for another two hours, so…"
Calix gestured at the couch, and Rhett took off the apron he had been wearing and sat down. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Calix chuckled. "Well, that got awkward fast. I'm sorry. I'm not used to having people over anymore."
"Am I the first since then?"
Calix nodded.
"If this is too hard for you, I can—"
"No." Calix held up his hand. "That's not it. I'm out of practice. I haven't socialized in the last five years other than with Del, with the president, I mean, and with his family, including Milan."
"No local friends?"
"No. Matthew and I lived in New York, so all our friends were there. Some of them I'm still in contact with, but… It's not the same. Those who weren't there don't understand, and those who were have their own demons to fight. It's… It's hard. An experience like that changes you in ways that is difficult to explain to outsiders."
Rhett nodded before Calix had even finished talking. "I've been lucky to have Levar. And now Henley too. As much as I hate that they witnessed the horrors of that day, I can't deny it has made it easier for me to talk about it. I don't need to explain because they know, they understand. Even if they don't feel the same or it hasn't impacted them the same, they still get it."