Time Warp:A Simple Mistake Starts the Hardest Time

Despite his behavior patterns, Sean didn’t aspire to drink so much that he developed a reputation, or that he lowered his inhibitions beyond a safe level. He was turning forty this year, and this was something for college students. Of course, the fact that all of his drinking companions were of similar ages and whenever he was back in the City brought out the worst of that behavior didn’t help. At least it was (primarily) during parties that this happened.

There was one positive, in that it kept some of the more distressing sober dreams at bay. He might not have the most restful sleep after a night of drinking, but at least he could be reasonably sure that he needn’t worry about working through someone else’s psychological baggage in his subconscious.

Naturally a light sleeper, he came slowly to wakefulness after the weight of the bed shifted and then the sound of footsteps retreated from the room. The telepath opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. This wasn’t his bed.

Nor should it be. He was visiting Josh in Manhattan and was staying at his apartment.

However, this also wasn’t the living room; the bed was too large and comfortable to be the pull-out sofa in Josh’s primary living space. No, this was his friend’s bed.

He supposed it was theoretically possible that Josh had chosen to be chivalrous last night and put him to bed here before taking the sofa. Of course, given that he was in a state of undress, the explanation was unlikely. Peering over the edge of the bed, he found his shirt and pants from the night before on the floor.

That moved the explanation from “unlikely” to “certainly didn’t happen.”

A thought permeated from the apartment, entering Sean’s mind unbidden. What was wrong with him?!!!

That confirmed that.

Sean couldn’t fault his friend for the confusion or the disgust with himself, given the situation and the poor boundaries. To afford Josh privacy, as well as from a sense of emotional self-preservation, he reinforced his mental shields as firmly as he could. He couldn’t make up for the lack of boundaries last night, but Josh needn’t worry about feeling like he was in a fishbowl this morning.

The telepath then snatched up his pants and shirt, donning them quickly to prevent an embarrassing moment for Josh should his friend return to his bedroom for something. Further wanting to bide Josh a bit of time, Sean climbed out of bed and went about making it. Smoothing the sheets, fluffing the pillows, and setting the bed in order was the least he could do for his friend, after causing him distress so early this morning.

And bringing about the demise of his relationship last night.

He remembered overhearing the fight, which hadn’t been his intention. Destroying Josh’s relationship hadn’t been his intention, either. He’d simply been invited to the same party and had wanted to see friends in New York while spending time with Josh. He’d wanted everything to work out with Saul; he’d liked the other attorney, even if they hadn’t spoken very much at the party.

He’d seemed nice. And Heaven knew Josh deserved to have a relationship work out for him. Nobody deserved the poor luck that Sean himself had.

Instead...

Well, he knew why he was alone in this bedroom.

Once the bed was made, the telepath ran his fingers through his hair to combat the bedhead; unfortunately, his comb and his other toiletries were in the bathroom or the living room with the rest of his things. He’d have to pass Josh to get there, and that defeated the purpose of looking for his comb at the moment. He was already wearing his clothing from the night before.

Better to just look for his friend and hope he’d had enough privacy.

Stepping into the kitchen, he smelled coffee brewing, and he offered the younger man a smile. “Good morning.”

The table wasn’t set, which was something else he could do, or he could cook. “Do you have any eggs? If you do, I can make us an omelet.”

The telepath wasn’t surprised that there were no eggs in Josh’s refrigerator. He found the notion of keeping so little food at home baffling, even when he considered that his friend didn’t cook; but he was also used to the other man’s housekeeping habits. Still, it had been worth making the offer.

He had no desire to eat Pop Tarts, although he knew Josh liked them well enough; he wouldn’t continue to buy them, no matter how easy they were to make, if he didn’t. Oatmeal or bagels it was then. Unless Josh wanted to jog out to a diner or deli for real food.

Given the situation, Sean doubted that he did, and he couldn’t fault him for that. Josh barely ever let Sean cook for him when this happened on more neutral territory.

“I think I’ll toast a bagel,” he mused aloud, stepping around the kitchen to reach the refrigerator. “Do you want me to toast you one too? Or I can make you some oatmeal.” Or a Pop Tar if Josh had his heart set on that. None of it would take very long.

He could easily set the table while the food cooked and put himself to good use that way.

Sean was about to assure the other man that it was no trouble to make a second bagel if he was already toasting one, or to make a bowl of oatmeal. After all, he had been prepared to make an omelet. However, with Josh’s announcement that he would just eat cereal, there was no need to argue about it. Instead, Sean pulled the milk out of the refrigerator for Josh and found the creamer for himself. “I have the creamer,” he said, “But the sugar would be great.”

He had never developed a taste for bitter coffee, and he doubted he would in the near future. He made do with no other options, but he would never turn down sugar when available.

The telepath then pulled the bagels out of the refrigerator, removed one from the sleeve, and then shut the door. He made his way over to the toaster and found a drawer containing silver, so he could more easily slice is bagel; the slice-marks helped, but he’d prefer to be precise. It gave him something to concentrate on at the moment.

“You don’t have to,” he said with a shake of his head. “We can get it later; with the holiday, they might not even have a new one.”

Besides, crossword puzzles weren’t important at the moment.

Sean finished slicing his bagel and set one half in each grate, and then pushed down on the button to toast. Familiar enough with Josh’s apartment, considering all of their visits with each other, he found the cupboard that had bowls and plates, and he pulled down one of each, for Josh and himself respectively. The bowl was set by the cereal box for his friend, and he took the plate over to the toaster to wait.

The telepath then took the sugar with a word of thanks, before setting it beside the creamer for when his coffee was finished. When the coffee was poured, he found a spoon and stirred in sufficient sugar and cream to make the coffee palatable.

A few sips later and he felt slightly perkier. The entire situation remains awkward, but at least he had coffee now. That was a start.

He settled behind the empty chair at the table, resting against it while waiting for his bagel to finish toasting.

“Judge Walsh?” The telepath repeated, crinkling his brow in concentration as he tried to match a face to that name. There had been many people at the party the night before, only some of whom Sean knew and considered friends. There had been a fair number of people from Josh’s sphere of life, his profession, and the telepath was so far removed from that group these days. Having never been an attorney and having lived in Vermont for several years now...

A face finally popped into his head, and he asked, “Was he the one who kept trying to start a sing-a-long of the Tennessee Waltz?”

Sean shook his head, not to answer Josh’s question but rather to convey his disagreement with his friend’s self-assessment. “You’re a great attorney,” he insisted, before taking another sip of his coffee.

Granted, the telepath wasn’t a member of the profession, but considering how many people seemed to respect Josh, and the amount of knowledge his friend had about the law, and his devotion to the job, Sean was confident in his statement. Josh worked at a prestigious firm, and he was a valuable attorney. That meant something.

His bagel popped out of the toaster, and Sean set down his cup and moved away from the table to fetch it. To protect his fingers, he used the knife to move each half onto the plate (the holes were useful that way), and then he stopped at the refrigerator and pulled out the cream cheese he had spied, before carrying both the cheese and the plate over to the table. Finally he sat.

“Jackson seemed nice,” he said, returning to the topic of conversation at hand. “I think I might have offended him by refusing to sing, but it really was for his own good.”

Few people outside of old college friends seemed to believe Sean when he made such remarks, but his singing was so atrocious.

At least talk of the night before wasn’t as awkward as he’d worried it might be. That was a start.

Sean trusted Josh’s assessment of his coworkers and other people he considered friends. Thus, if he though Jackson wasn’t offended, or wouldn’t be offended in the long-term, and the telepath had no evidence to the contrary, he would assume the validity of Josh’s interpretation.

Either way, Sean wouldn’t lose sleep over the matter; it was only singing and nobody could coerce him into doing that in public. Even if, theoretically, he’d rather sing than dance.

Opening the cream cheese, he dipped the knife and began to coat his bagel in the white dairy product.

“Blake has been very generous each time I’ve met him.” Which had been a few times, between visits and other gatherings. The blond lawyer struck him as a genuinely considerate person, and there needed to be more people like that in the world.

His bagel properly coated in cream cheese, Sean took a bite He waited until he’d finished chewing to say, “Did you know that Blake’s girlfriend is an oncologist? She was telling me stories last night during one of the breaks from the games, but she works at Beth Israel.”

He assumed that Josh did know that, given his friend tried to be knowledgeable about everyone even peripherally associated with his social circle. Still, it was a safer topic than, I’m sorry that I caused your boyfriend to break up with you..

Sean nodded both his comprehension and his sympathy with the remark about how Blake’s intelligence was often over-looked because of his kindness and generosity. He’d suffered that same perception problem before, although it was easier to overcome when he introduced himself as Doctor Neville.

The telepath then chuckled at the remark about bleeding heart as an insult. “I’ve found insults and compliments both tell more about the speaker than the receiver.” Surely, bleeding heart in their social circle was more of a badge of honor, although they wouldn’t use the phrase. Socially conscious tended to be the preferred phrasing.

“And she is very smart,” he agreed with a nod. Smart and of a strong constitution to tackle oncology every day as her chosen field. “I think she and Daphne would get along. Have they met?”

Daphne hadn’t attended the party; she was on the other side of the county for the holidays. Still, Sean saw some similarities, and he was sure their old friend would get along well with Sylvia.

At the other question, Sean became thoughtful, trying to recall Nick. Of course, if he’d attended Hammel for any amount of time between 1969 and 1975, they had attended together. But the name and face weren’t immediately familiar. “What’s Nick’s last name again?”