The Rhythm of the Saints (Josh)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This takes place on March 17, 2014.))


Sean had not self-identified as Catholic in three-decades. He was an atheist, and he could conceive of no probabilistic scenario under which he changed his faith again in his lifetime. Individual Saints Days held no religious significance, and thus they, and many other fasts and festivals, had fallen to the wayside over the course of his adulthood. He celebrated secular holidays that he found culturally significant or simply fun, and otherwise he celebrated holidays that his friends and partner(s) celebrated, because they celebrated them. As he was with Josh, he celebrated several Jewish holidays, and the telepath had no regrets.

Despite the absence of faith, Sean remained an American of Irish descent, and he would be one until he died. As such, Saint Patrick’s Day held cultural significance to him, as it did to the general Irish and Irish American populations, irrespective of the religious aspects of the Saint’s Day. The telepath didn’t support any parades that excluded LGBT Irish people from participation, but he did engage in other cultural activities.

This year, he was proud to see that both the Mayor of Boston and the Mayor of New York City had chosen to boycott their respective Saint Patrick’s Day parades due to the LGBT exclusion. The telepath was also glad that he and his sister did not keep regular contact, as he didn’t want to hear her complain about how intolerant it was to refuse to endorse discrimination.

For Saint Patrick’s Day, as he did every year, he wore his green tie with his pastel green shirt and an appropriate suit. He made his traditional meal for supper: corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, soda bread, potato leek soup to take the chill out of the air. For dessert, he had made crème brulee with Irish cream. He’d used low salt versions of his traditional recipes, and he’d made a couple of substitutions in the dessert so that Josh could more easily partake.

Supper was just about prepared when the attorney returned home.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Although Josh was neither Irish nor Catholic, St. Patrick's Day was one of his favorite holidays. It wasn't just because the holiday was important to Sean, although that did increase his affection for it slightly. No, he loved St. Patrick's Day for the same reason so many Americans without Irish descent loved it.

Drinking.

Any holiday that involved copious amounts of alcohol and invitations to bars were favorites for the attorney, of course, although this year he hadn't gone barhopping. He was supposed to watch his alcohol intake, and so that particular manner of celebration was off limits unless he wanted to watch while everyone else ate foods that violated his diet and drink more alcohol than he was allowed.

However, the holiday wasn't a total wash this year, either. After all, Sean always cooked a traditional Irish meal for the holiday. And even if it wasn't the sort of cuisine Josh had grown up with, he thought it was delicious, a fact he was sure to let the telepath know as he walked through the doors and into the kitchen.

"Mmm. We need more saints to drive animals out of Ireland if this is the result."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean appreciated that his partner took the time to compliment his cooking and the effort he put into meals. At times, Josh over-complimented him, attributing far more effort and skill than was required in a given situation. However, for holiday meals, the telepath did exert the effort, and it was nice to hear that acknowledged.

“Ireland has few enough indigenous species that I don’t think they could afford another exodus.” That was all that Sean would say on the topic of the historical, or religious, aspects of this holiday. Instead, he wanted to focus on the menu and on the ability to spend time with his partner.

To that end, he turned and closed the distance between himself and the younger man. The telepath wrapped both arms around Josh’s waist and pulled the attorney into a gentle kiss. Upon pulling back, he offered his partner a smile. “However, I’m glad that you approve of the menu. If you want to finish setting the table, you can.”

With that, Sean turned back to the meal so that he could put the finishing touches together. “You can have a beer, if you’d like, but I also picked out a bottle of wine.”

They had agreed to use wine as a substitute for beer and hard liquor, for the sake of Josh’s blood pressure. Still, Sean understood the occasion might call for a break.

[Joshua Bernstein]

At the invitation, Josh began laying out flatware and napkins onto the table. Setting the table didn't take nearly so long as cooking did, and he knew that, but since his kitchen expertise was still limited to desserts he continued to set the table in order to feel marginally helpful. He'd done it even as a guest at Sean's home, before they'd reconciled; he wouldn't know what to do with himself if this duty was no longer necessary.

"What kind of wine?"

He preferred beer to wine, and he complained endlessly about the changes to his diet, but the fact that Sean had bothered to pick out a bottle was the sort of intimate touch he would feel guilty about rejecting.

"I like wine, we can do that."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t ask his partner to set the table. He and Josh had shared enough meals over the decades that he needn’t ask, nor did he tell the younger man that it was unnecessary. This was their evening meal ritual, a way to share the burdens of supper preparation.

“It’s a Zinfandel ,” the telepath explained. As he hadn’t specified that it was a White Zinfandel, it implied that the wine was red, which was to be expected for this meal; they were eating beef, after all. Sean kept a well-stocked liquor cabinet, which, in addition to the harder liquor that he and Josh now reserved for special occasions, included their wines for meals. The telepath had several bottles reserved for specific events: a bottle of champagne for when Ryan and Shiya announced a date or told their parents that they were not going to officially marry and would choose Massachusetts common law, a special bottle for his birthday, a special brand for their Thanksgiving meal, and one for Saint Patrick’s Day. The one for Saint Patrick’s Day came from an Irish vineyard, which was a little hard to come by, but was worthwhile for special occasions.

“We’ll need a bread knife tonight. The soda bread is a whole loaf.” Pre-slicing it caused it to lose some freshness, and stale soda bread was a waste.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh didn't reply to the comment about the bread; he simply headed for the knife block to select a knife for slicing their loaf.

"How was your day?" He asked, once he had returned to the kitchen to fetch two red wine glasses -- wider around than the tall, thin glasses intended for the white wine. "Did everyone wear green? We had a meeting with some clients, and one of them forgot. Janice actually pinched him. It's a good thing he thought it was funny. Or thought she was attractive, I'm not really sure which it was."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean continued to put the finishing touches on the meal. Their main course required another minute or two, and he turned his attention to the soup, since he and Josh could start with that.

“My day was fine. Few people make a production of this holiday.” Not in a school environment. It might be an excuse by some to drink to excess, but not during school hours at Hammel. “A good portion of the students and faculty didn’t wear green.” Nor did the telepath expect them to; they were not Irish-American.

Josh’s story caused Sean to turn his head, surprised by the breach of professional conduct. He knew Janice, knew her personality, but he still expected some modicum of decorum from her in a professional setting. To that end, he remarked, “I’m very fond of Janice, but I’m glad that I don’t have to work with her.”

Some of the stresses and shenanigans at Hammel were more than enough.

Finding that their entrée had finished cooking, the psychiatrist bent over to pull it from the oven. He set it aside to cool, and then took the bread knife from his partner. “I’ll do the soup and bread if you poor the wine. The bottle is on the table.”

As it was an unopened bottle of red wine, he had not chilled it.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I'll gladly pour the wine," Josh agreed, not at all displeased to be rid of the knife; His baking experiences had not yet entirely rid him of his discomfort with sharp edged utensils.

Pouring the wine meant that, once he had obtained the red wine glasses, he had also to rummage through the drawers for the corkscrew. He carried his tools into the dining room, setting the glasses gently on the table. With that task done, he picked up the wine bottle, pressing the corkscrew into the cork and twisting until Pop!

He eyeballed the amount, pouring until he thought there was about a thumbs width from the edge of the class to the top of the wine filling the glass.

"I work with Janice, you work with Cee. I think it all evens out in the end."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean focused on his part of the meal. With the entrée and side dishes cooling, and the breadknife in hand, he cut both Josh and himself a large slab of bread. They could always cut more as they ate, but he liked to keep soda bread fresh, which meant never slicing more than necessary each time.

He brought the slabs over to the table, setting one on the bread plates at each of their seats. Then he returned to the counter, took the ladle from the soup pot, and served first Josh and then himself a healthy portion of the potato leek soup. Those bowls, too, found themselves at their respective places on the table.

“Cee,” he remarked with a shake of his head. He considered the computer teacher to be a friend, but he constantly found himself baffled by the younger man’s behavior. Still, Cee’s actions were less deliberately provocative than Janice’s were, even if he displayed an equal or greater degree of bad judgment as a whole.

On that note, he turned to look at his partner, “Did I tell you about how he blew up his house two months ago?”

Though a sentence that one never should utter as a serious proposition, it had happened. Astoundingly.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Soon the table was set, and Josh licked his lips in anticipation of the coming feast. The smells of the soup alone made his mouth water.

But his fantasies about supper were brought short by the question about Cee Cohen.


"What? No! I heard he had a son in town, but not....nobody was in the house. Were they?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean also looked forward to eating. He had spent the late afternoon and early evening engaged in various cooking tasks, but he had done nothing to sample aside from testing the ingredients. His stomach rumbled, informing him that it was time to eat; fortunately, the bread was sliced and the soup was served.

With that first course on the table, he sat and lifted his wine glass in a toast. “To the meal.” They needed nothing more formal than that.

However, he had only just sipped his wine, and had not yet had the opportunity to sample his soup, when his partner asked the question.

“He was in the house, although, as far as I know, nobody else was at the time. Which is fortunate, given what a disaster the situation was in the first place.” The telepath sipped his wine again, before he added, “He managed to singe off both of his eyebrows.”

That, in turn, had led to their discussion in the Hammel staff lounge, during which Cee had admitted the situation, and Sean had gleaned far more than that.

He shook his head to himself. “I made him surrender the rest of the chemicals and everything flammable so that it wouldn’t happen again. It was a mess.” That was an understatement.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh raised his glass when Sean did, but his mind was still occupied by this new information about their absent minded friend.

"....he singed off his eyebrows?" The attorney's voice was awed. He had involved himself in fires before, but had never had anything so out of control as to singe off any hairs. That sounded intense, and not more than a little terrifying.

"....the rest of the chemicals?" This question sounded more alarmed than impressed. Cee was not a person he trusted with any chemicals, and his partner made it sound as if he had a lot of them. "Is he going to require a lawyer to deal with the damage?"

He hoped that wouldn't be necessary, but he also doubted that Cee's landlord would appreciate a chemical explosion.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean touched his glass to his partner’s and then nodded solemnly in confirmation. Cee Cohen had, in fact, managed to singe off his eyebrows with the explosives and chemicals in his house. Despite the conversation he and the computer teacher had shared, despite the additional information provided by his telepathy, the psychiatrist still could not wrap his mind around what had motivated their friend to experiment in such a way.

It boggled the mind.

The telepath sipped from his wine glass, pleased with the rich flavor. This would complement the corned beef nicely.

He threw his free hand up in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he was thinking, and I’m not sure what the legal consequences might be.” He had cautioned their friend about potential insurance consequences at the time, but otherwise he had relatively little knowledge on the subject.

Sean had never had an explosion in his house. Certainly not a deliberate one.

“I wouldn’t get directly involved, even if he does. This is a referral situation.” There existed advice for lawyers, as well as for doctors, not to officially involve oneself in a professional capacity when friends and family were concerned. That was good advice in this situation, particularly with Josh’s political campaign for this November.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh inhaled deeply, shaking his head again. Cee Cohen remained a perplexing individual.

What was not perplexing was the fact that Sean had, as usual, managed to prepare a delicious holiday meal. That was no surprise, given that it was a tradition, and although Josh certainly hadn't celebrated every St. Patrick's Day with the telepath he had certainly celebrated enough of them to have some expectations.

The topic of their mutual friend was quickly dropped in favor of more mundane, pleasant discussion and the banter that had become the hallmark of their relationship. Flirtatious, slightly ridiculous, familiar, and helped along by food and alcohol.

Even though it wasn't his holiday, it was still exactly what he wanted out of one.