April Come She Will (Josh)

“Unfortunately not, but I have a way of showing up with a cake on my lunch break.” Already the telepath was pleased with the direction in which this was headed. And he knew just the bakery to order a cake; they could do so on short notice so long as he didn’t ask for anything too complicated. He was a devoted customer, so he was sure they would decorate as he asked, including putting Josh’s name on it. And he could find special candles at the grocery store...yes, this could be arranged. He smiled at the thought.

“What do you say to supper tonight?” he asked, letting the other man know that he was available all day to celebrate. “I know just the place, and, if you’re up to it, I know a club.” It had been a long time since he’d gone clubbing, but he’d found out about a club in Burlington that catered to the middle aged and older gay set, which Josh might enjoy for the purposes of drink variety and music. If not, there were a dozen bars he could prattle off the top of his head, and there was always his infamous liquor cabinet back at the house.

“I’ll make it a retirement project.” Actually, if he opened up a restaurant or bakery with an object summoner, a teleporter, or a meta with superhuman speed, they would be able to retire within two years. It was something to think about. As for the issue of beverage choice, he had more than enough to share with his friend, but the suggestion of going out for lunch was even better. “I know a place. Do you want to bike, or would you like me to swing by and get you?” Either way, that would give him the time to place an order for the cake. “Cake counts for a meal on your birthday, and I say that as a medical doctor.”

The telepath prepared himself for rejection upon hearing that single word. However the news wasn’t as bad Josh made it seem with the initial reply. While spending time at his parents’ home would limit avenues of conversation in some ways, it was a small price to pay for joining the Bernstein family for a birthday meal. Sean genuinely liked both of Josh’s parents, even though his father’s decline had changed him drastically. The Bernsteins had always been kind and welcoming to him, over decades, treating him as an adoptive son of sorts. “I’d be happy to join your family for supper. And I’ll give you a ride so you get there on time.” He would have to stop off between work and picking the other man up, in order to change into something nicer and then put his clubbing clothes in the car. “When you get old and let obligations get to you. But this works out well; your parents are on the way to the club so the drive will be easier.”

The telepath chuckled. “You’re just trying reverse psychology, and it doesn’t work. But you’re still invited to my mountain cabin when I do retire. I’ll need someone to keep me from becoming a hermit.” Of course, that was decades away, since he intended to work for as long as he was useful, needed, and had enough friends on the Hammel faculty. But since he also planned to live for as long as possible, there would be time for both.

“All right. It’s Magnotta’s on Maine Street. One block over from the bank. Do you know where it is?” If his friend required clearer instructions than that, he could provide full directions. But he thought that was sufficient to keep Josh from getting too lost, and since Pilot Ridge had only the one bank, it should be easy enough. Otherwise, he’d find the other man riding around downtown and he’d pick him up. “If you’re that worried about supplies, I’ll buy you two. And I’ll have them sing Happy Birthday.” While he might get Josh two cakes, he wouldn’t enlist others to sing; that was excessive.

“It’s in downtown Burlington,” Sean replied, as he made a note to himself to buy a bottle of wine for supper between leaving work and picking Josh up to drive out to his parents’ home. “If a place like this existed in Pilot Ridge, you’d have heard about it earlier than now.” If a place like that existed in Pilot Ridge, perhaps Sean would have had a date this past year. He then chuckled at the question of the dress code. “I think the dress code is ‘please wear pants.’ Everyone there dresses and looks like us, so generally casual. If you still have your jeans from college, I’m sure that wouldn’t hurt. It’s not a fetish club so you don’t have to worry about random leather, and it isn’t a drag bar.”

“You’d throw a surprise party for me? Was I the only one who learned anything from that failed experiment?” The failed experiment from the night that wouldn’t be discussed in more than the shallowest of ways. “Besides, if I did try to become a hermit, I’d trade in my house for a mountain cabin that wouldn’t fit more than two people in the first place, so a party would be difficult.” This, right here, was why the two of them would never be bored in one another’s company. If they ever ran out of politics, current events, work discussion, family and friends, reminiscence, shared activities, meals, and drinking, they still had bizarre hypothetical situations. “But let’s look at it this way, it’s your job to keep it from happening, so that will keep you busy when you retire.”

The telepath expected him to know where the bank was, but he’d learned over the decades that navigation wasn’t Josh’s strongest area. “Then you have no excuse for getting lost.” That wasn’t quite a challenge.

“You take the fun out of everything,” he said affectionately. Truthfully, it was a useful bit of trivia, and it explained why every restaurant he attended had a dreadful original birthday song. “And you’re getting free dessert, because I’m bringing you cake. But I’ll take your permission for a little birthday humiliation.” He became thoughtful at the question of hats. He knew that Magnotta’s didn’t stock hats, but he could drum one up from somewhere. “We could always take a side trip to Burger King and get you a crown.” He was serious.

“I’m sure that if we explained that it’s your birthday, you could get away from the dress. Will you need help with your hosiery, or can you handle that yourself?” He then smiled to himself. “Yes, it’s a club for boring career people, like us.” He was too old for the regular club scene, particularly since he didn’t date anyone born after Nixon had been president. “If you want drunkards dancing on tables, you’ll either have to lead the charge yourself or get me fairly liquored up. Your choice.”

The telepath chuckled. He knew that was true, of course, since he was in a unique position to judge the other man’s measurements. “You should have done what I did and got them let out so you could wear them to concerts.” It was depressing, in fact, how much he’d had to get them let out, but that was another matter; he’d either have to cut back on the sweets or switch from grain alcohol to wine, neither of which he was particularly inclined to do.

The telepath couldn’t help but chuckle at Josh’s remark; that wasn’t the lesson he’d referenced, but it was still a valid lesson from that night. Of course, there were more than a dozen valid lessons from that night, many of which were the direct result of Leila’s conduct in trying to hold a party at Cobalt’s house without informing him, and of choosing a theme for the party with which only he and Josh could comply. That had, of course, led to the need for alternative sources of entertainment, which had in turn led to he and Josh – and in all fairness, everyone except the host and hostess – having too much to drink, and had culminated with another notch on the bedpost the next morning which they hadn’t discussed outright. “I’d argue your errant belief that my wits and will can be overborne by baked goods and alcohol, but since today’s themes are cake and a club, I won’t.” Although in the end, he would feel guilty about his friends sitting in the woods behind his house and he would come outside to join them from that alone. “If Clarisse breaks my cabin door, I’ll make you pay for the exterminator to get rid of the squirrel infestation,” he warned.

The other man’s predictions were in line with Sean’s assessment of his friend’s priorities as well. Although he sincerely hoped Josh wouldn’t suffer the indignity of dying at his office – decades from now – he fully expected his friend to work until he was no longer physically capable, and then only after a fight he had lost. “For the record, there are different types of hermits. I don’t plan to become a cloistered monk; I’d envisioned a Walden-esque retreat and then a Viking funeral. Which you’ll also be charged with planning. No fasting involved.” He hadn’t fasted since he’d last done penance, and that had been decades ago.

“I’ll hold you to that, then.” While Sean knew that Josh didn’t always get lost, he’d had enough experience with the other man to know that it was best to build in copious amounts of time just in case. But the chances were reduced when his friend knew his destination ahead of time.

Strictly speaking, Sean had earned enough karma in his life to ensure his rebirth as a higher form of life. Even with every misstep in the eyes of his childhood faith, he had done enough penance through trial and good deed to have a clear conscience. He also didn’t require karma from spending time with his closest friend and from celebrating his birthday party, several times through the course of the day. Three, by his count, if their plans remained on course. “For the record, my weekend plans involved kidnapping you and going sailing. So be advised.” He then made a mental note to stop off at Burger King between picking up the cake and meeting the other man at Magnotta’s. His to-do list kept growing. “Then I’ll be sure to pick you up a crown, but you have to wear it until the cake is finished.”

Sean had a vivid imagination. Whether that was a side effect of the telepathy or merely an inborn quality, it no longer mattered; the end result was the same. Now he had an image of his 51-year-old friend in a dress, complete with sequence and matching shoes and that image would remain for a while. Fortunately, he had neither an appointment nor a faculty meeting in the next half hour. “You might want to pick up a pair, since your legs do have a tendency to distract me when we drive. Have you considered shaving?” He pitied anyone who might inadvertently overhear this conversation due to cell phone towers getting their reception crossed. “I’d meant middle-aged and career-driven. But if you think that’s synonymous with boring, those are your unresolved issues, not mine.” That was tongue-in-cheek, of course. “If you have your heart set on it, buy me a bottle of scotch and you won’t have to do it alone.”

Sean vividly remembered the last concert that Josh went to in 1981, the Concert in Central Park. He smiled at the memory – the memories – from that night; it was one of the best times he’d had in his entire life. Of course, he also knew that Josh wasn’t a regular concert-goer, but now that they lived closer to one another, perhaps he could persuade him to go to some concerts in Boston. “You miss the point of the jeans being kitsch. And now I have a new goal of buying you a pair of jeans and taking you to a concert. But that will be another day.” Most likely during the summer.