Bowling for Turkeys

Mitbewohner

GARTH FOUND him, knees drawn up to his chest, head resting against the back of the office chair, almost asleep.

“Milo?” he said softly.

“I’m a mess,” Milo muttered.

“Well, it’s been a shitty day.”

“I mean before that,” Milo told him. “My life—me. I’m not suitable for human company. You should lock me in a room until I chew my way out.”

“She can’t be that mad at you,” Garth said reasonably, although he knew that there was an enormity to what Milo had done that might piss somebody off.

“She needs time to breathe,” Milo mumbled. “We’re talking in two days. She made me put it in my phone.”

Garth smiled to himself. If nothing else, the way Milo and Mari seemed to interact would have attracted Garth to him. It was like nothing he’d ever seen.

“That’s very promising,” he soothed. “Misty is serving us lunch on the porch, and she wants you to be there. She said you looked peaked.”

Milo lifted his head from its lifeless droop on the back of the chair. “What’s she serving?”

“Wonton soup and walnut shrimp on noodles. Her cook is amazing . It’s better than a restaurant.”

“And it’s not peanut butter and jelly,” Milo said, perking up.

“No, it is not. Come on out, Milo. Let’s have some lunch and discuss your security system and enjoy the sunshine. You can fret about the state of the world later, but now it’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Milo said, and no sooner had he swung his legs down to the ground than Julia leaped into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a second. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. “This is why people have dogs, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Garth told him. He and Chad had their own private hugs to not tell anybody about. “It’s one of the best reasons in the world.”

Milo nodded. “Now I know,” he whispered, and then he stood up, Julia still in his arms, and followed Garth back through the house.

He seemed to be okay during lunch, and while Misty, Garth, and Doug kept up most of the conversation, almost all of it focused on the work to be done in her yard, as well as the newly installed security system at Milo’s duplex and how they should put it on the other side of the house and show the tenant how to use it, Garth kept careful note of Milo’s expressions as he followed the conversation.

He wasn’t there for all of it, Garth noted. There were moments when his eyes unfocused and he was obviously somewhere else, and Garth could read an entire adventure in his expressions as he wandered. Then he came back to what they were talking about, and his gaze sharpened, and he seemed to be taking notes.

And then, after an outstanding meal, which was reason enough to keep coming to Misty Parcival’s house and doing work, he seemed to droop entirely.

Garth was going to suggest he take Milo home and then return to work, but Misty spoke up first.

“Milo,” she said warmly, “I have a guest bedroom. You’ve had a day, and you need some alone time. How about you go inside and work or nap or navel gaze and leave the rest of us out here while the boys finish up.”

And if Garth ever wanted the key to Milo Tanaka’s heart, he saw it in the way Milo’s face lit up at her words.

Introverts, he thought in wonder. Such simple needs, such amazing emotional dividends. Now he knew.

GARTH AND Doug worked until the light failed and planned to come back for a half day after a stop at Milo’s place, as long as it was okay with Misty.

“But it’s Saturday!” she said, surprised.

“We spent half of today somewhere else,” Doug told her. “Let’s get as much done as we can so you’ve got your closed-in porch when it gets too cold for office alfresco. My wife and the girls are out of town at a trick-or-treat thing in Jackson, so I’ve got time.”

“Chad’s happy, I’m happy,” Garth said easily, but inside he was thinking that one more day here, in Misty Parcival’s yard, watching the dogs play, could not possibly do Milo any harm and might certainly do some good.

He drove them to his house in the early evening when the last fingers of sunshine seemed to have stirred up the scent of a golden day. He cracked his window so he could smell woodsmoke and cut grass and earth, which were atmospheric things a person overlooked when they were younger but that seeped into the muscles and sinews when they approached thirty.

“It was such a pretty day,” Milo remarked, seeming to read his thoughts. “I mean, it was unexpected, but last week was so gray. I’m glad we’ve got some more autumn.”

“My favorite time of year,” Garth confessed. “But that might be because I look forward to it getting colder for work. The summers can suck here.”

Milo chuckled. “Even before Julia I used to walk early in the morning. When I was a teenager, it was so I could go angst alone, but I think it… it gave my mind a chance to wander so I could focus when I need it.”

“ADHD?” Garth asked, because it was a common enough difficulty.

“Who knows,” Milo replied. “Not severe enough to diagnose, I guess. Just… wandering brain. It’s funny, because I’ve gotten yelled at all my life for it, but I’ve never felt the urge to fix myself. I made my deadlines at school, and now I make them at work. I pay my bills and manage my finances. Until recently I cleaned the house on my own schedule. I mean, it wasn’t to Stuart’s specs, but I didn’t think it was bad.”

“Seemed okay to me ,” Garth said. “And by the way, I’m sorry I had to see it for the first time without you there.”

Milo glanced at him and shook his head. “You have friendly eyes,” he said simply. “And I’m glad I got the artwork out of the garage. I swear, one of the best things Stuart did when he left was take his gawdawful art.”

“What’s gawdawful?” Garth asked. “I have no idea.” Milo seemed to like the classics—Monet’s Water Lilies , Manet’s ballerinas, a few French wild-beasty type paintings, even that one poor soul with the psychedelic cats—all of it had added to that brightness in the pale white space.

“Pigs and penises,” Milo said in disgust. “Contorted faces. Disjointed animals. I didn’t recognize any of the artists, but Stuart was constantly saying that was because my tastes were plebian and uneducated.” The insult rolled off Milo’s tongue like he’d heard it too many times to dispute, but he followed it up with, “I don’t know—considering my degree was in media communications with an emphasis on art and his was in political science, I think he was using the wrong words.”

Garth had to bite his lip not to laugh. “Milo,” he said when he could get control of himself, “I need you to remember what we talked about when it comes to what Stuart ever said to you.”

“That it was a lie?” Milo clarified.

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay, but what—”

“Your taste in art is fine,” Garth told him. “It’s your taste in men you need to work on.”

Milo said, “I gotta say, I’m feeling sort of a soft spot for the guy who held my hand all day and is helping me get my ex-boyfriend out of my virtual house.”

Garth chuckled softly. “Well, that’s a start,” he said. “But that guy thinks we need to wait until Stuart is all the way gone and you’ve got your feet under you before we jump into anything.”

“Oh.” Milo’s voice held a wealth of disappointment.

“I used to take love and sex lightly,” Garth told him, wanting him to understand. “I was, in fact, sort of a porn cliché.”

“Ooh….” Milo’s voice held no judgment. “Did you knock on doors and say ‘I’m here to excavate’ and—”

“And excavation meant something super dirty?” Garth said, laughing. “Yeah. I was that guy. And… I don’t know. I got caught by one too many mothers, fathers, surprised and tragic wives. It… see, I started this job right out of school, and I’d sort of had my heart broken and I wasn’t ready for something real. And suddenly I realized that it may not have been real to me , but what I was doing had consequences, and they were often painful, and—”

“Bowling for turkeys,” Milo said, his voice throbbing with empathy. “Like… like when Julia was chasing the turkeys and I thought it was hilarious, but then suddenly she was chasing Chad, and I was horrified.”

“Yeah,” Garth said. “Exactly. It’s all okay until you realize who you could hurt. So, you know, it’s been a while since I’ve done that, but—”

“But you like me, and you don’t want to knock me over,” Milo murmured.

“Yeah,” Garth said. He swallowed hard, suddenly wanting to touch that slight fey figure more than he could say. “Would hugs be okay? I mean, you know, after dinner or when we’re watching TV or—”

He heard a sniffle, like a sob, and tried to backtrack.

“Or no hugs, zero hugs, no touching at—”

“It has been the worst day,” Milo said through a voice made thick with pain and confusion. “I would love a hug.”

Garth reached over and patted his knee. “A hug,” he said. “And a snuggle on the couch. And some comfort. I think we can arrange that. It’s a plan.”

Milo laced his slender fingers over Garth’s rough ones. “I like this plan,” he said, and they were quiet for the rest of the way to the house.

UNLIKE MILO’S house, which was in Fair Oaks in a neighborhood of duplexes right next to a neighborhood of really nice houses built in the sixties and seventies—with appropriately bizarre rich people’s floor plans—Garth’s house was situated in Orangevale, in an old neighborhood of ranch-style homes that was one of the few places left in Orangevale still backed up with orchards.

Garth’s parents had retired shortly after Garth came home from college, and had gone to live in a condo on the beach in San Diego, where Garth’s mother constantly posted pictures of the beach, of the museums, and of food she didn’t have to cook.

They’d left Garth the house and told him to do whatever he wanted to it, and he had. The house sat on a quarter of an acre— enough of a yard for Chad to wander, sniff, relieve himself, and roll around on his back, but not enough for him to chase Garth’s farthest throw of the ball using the Chuckit. Garth had kept the dog-friendly landscaping, re-sided the ochre stucco with a cheery yellow paneling, and painted the walls a soft cream on the inside with accent walls, adding recesses that held family photos or tchotchkes—all of them well out of Chad’s reach.

He’d opened up the living room/kitchen so the view one got from the entrance was of a brief foyer and a hall on the right leading to bedrooms, and a large living space on the left consisting of a great room with a television and leather couches opening to a kitchen Garth could knock around in. He did enjoy cooking once in a while—often making enough to last him part of the week and then treating himself to takeout for a night and a sandwich or soup when he really didn’t feel like eating.

“So,” Garth said as he walked in, swung his work belt from a peg in the foyer, and set his toolbox right underneath it. There was another pegboard for jackets and such, but Garth lived by himself and had no problem with his boots and tools tucked in their spot in the hallway. If they were dirty—if he was dirty—he went around back to the mudroom and cleaned up there. His mother had given him flack for this, but Milo wandered in and glanced around appreciatively.

“It’s a home,” he said, his face lighting up. “I love it!”

“Yeah?” Garth asked, suddenly hungry for more of that easy approval. It was funny because his parents had always been warm, and he’d had an easy time of it in high school and college—even coming out had been nontraumatic. But he hadn’t realized how starved he was for praise from the man standing in his foyer, his blond dog at his heels, until Milo gave him words that were unforced and happy.

“Part of it is the size,” Milo confessed. “My house is pretty small. But the open floor plan, the colors—it’s happy and soothing at the same time.”

Garth found himself smiling into Milo’s eyes for a moment and had to shake himself to offer basic courtesy. “Well, there’s two guest rooms, but one of them has my computer and work station in it, so take the second one on the right. Stow your stuff, set up Julia’s crate, and when you come out, I should have some casserole and salad ready for us.”

Milo brightened. “You have casserole? Comfort food! That’s amazing! Pasta, cheese… tuna?”

“Chicken,” Garth said.

“Oh yum.” Milo’s rather forced dreaminess faded, and the look he sent Garth next was a little naked and a little tired. “Seriously. You’re… you’re the one with the cape tonight, you know? So thank you.”

Garth stepped close enough to lean down and kiss Milo’s temple. “Go stow your stuff and wash up,” he said. “And we can have that hug and that cuddle, and you can go to bed by yourself and know you’re safe.”

Milo nodded, his eyes getting a little shiny. “Okay,” he said. He took a step back then and hurried to the bedroom, and Garth let him go.

HE WAS more composed when he came out for dinner, and Garth had some spare bowls for Julia, which he put on the other side of the kitchen from Chad’s. Milo saw this, ran back to his room, and returned with a towel he’d brought in his briefcase.

“I used it for her food and water bowls at work,” he said. “Hopefully she’ll feel that it’s, you know, hers.”

“Good idea,” Garth told him. “You’re becoming quite the dog whisperer.”

Milo sank to the floor and petted Julia as she approached the bowl of kibble and sniffed. “Stuart hates dogs,” he confided. “He hated the cat too. I-I guess one of the reasons I love Mari so much is she sees me as somebody who needs a pet.”

Garth nodded and continued to dish up their dinner. “Living room or dining room table?” he asked.

“Living room?” Milo asked, and Garth could see the bags under his eyes. Whatever he’d done in Misty’s spare room, it hadn’t been sleep.

“Sure,” he said gently. “Come on up and get your plate, and we’ll watch some TV. Any requests?”

“Old NCIS episodes,” Milo said promptly. “But they do put me right out, so you may need to catch the plate.”

Garth chuckled, and soon they were settled on the couch. When Garth saw Milo’s plate sitting on his lap, some of the casserole eaten but not much, he told Milo to give it up, put the plate on the coffee table, and come lean on Garth and sleep.

“Hugs and cuddles,” Milo said sleepily, and then he did exactly that.

Garth ended up watching three episodes, feeling Milo’s limp weight against his body, Garth’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. Finally, when his leg started tingling, he stood and urged Milo down the hallway to his bedroom.

“Not enough hugs,” Milo murmured, so Garth wrapped his slender body up in his arms and held on.

For a moment, two, it was just that blissful contact, the warmth, the smell of cut grass, of Milo’s hair and the lavender in his fabric softener.

“This is so good,” Milo murmured. “It’s so much better than sex.”

Garth’s chest constricted. He bent his head to Milo’s ear and whispered, “I think, maybe, after some time, we need to go correct that impression you have about sex too.”

“But not tonight?” He was practically begging, and Garth was only human.

He dipped his head and tasted, relieved when Milo parted his lips under Garth’s and Garth could sweep his tongue in gently. Mmm…. Garth’s body was tingling, and not because his leg had fallen asleep. One moment, two….

Garth pulled back. “Not tonight,” he said, and then hugged Milo once, briefly, before stepping away. “By the way, I know you brought Julia’s crate, but it’s fine if she sleeps on your bed. I saw her use the pet door to do her business, so I’m going to leave the door open, okay?”

“Perfect guy,” Milo mumbled, turning away. “Julia, I found the perfect guy because you tried to eat his dog. Life is so weird.”

And then Garth fled down the hall, turning off the light as he went.

He could only resist so much temptation.

THE NEXT few days were rough, but they were also awesome.

Garth had to skip out on the promised big-dog park visit on Saturday while he and Doug made up work on Misty’s place and then he went back to Milo’s little duplex to double-check the new security system and see if there were any cameras he’d forgotten. He found one on the outside—which he replaced with one of his own—and helped Milo fill out the paperwork for a restraining order. Misty chimed in here unexpectedly—her oldest was an ADA and helped to fast-track the paperwork through. The footage of Stuart stealing Milo’s mail was sent to the DA’s office, and they were assured that, while charges may not be pressed because Stuart had been a cohabitant, Stuart would be approached at work to give a statement. For somebody as vain and self-conscious, the cops visiting would put a real crimp in Stuart’s style, but Garth wasn’t secure enough in Milo’s safety to think that would be the end of it.

He asked Milo if he could stay at Garth’s house until a week after the statement was taken, to make sure, and once Milo had retrieved his own vehicle—as small as it was—and could visit when he needed to for his own stuff, he agreed.

All told he spent three weeks with Garth—from mid-October to the first week in November—and it should have been… awkward. Uncomfortable. They weren’t lovers yet; they were friends who cuddled. Garth was reasonably certain Milo got the same things from his relationship with Mari that he got with Garth, except Mari seemed to be more acerbic and comfortable enough to push Milo harder out of his comfort zone. But then, that probably came with time, and also with being Mari.

Garth’s hope in the beginning, that after a couple of “dates” in which they scheduled a talk and then hashed out the hard stuff, proved well-founded. Mari and Milo’s relationship went back to the comfort place of two people who couldn’t live without each other—except not lovers.

And the longer Garth and Milo roomed together, Garth really yearned for that role.

Milo was so kind , and so funny , and so… marvelous. Unexpected. They walked their dogs every morning together, and Garth had gotten used to Milo talking to Julia like she was, well, Mari.

“No. I said no. We’re not chasing the squeaky. Except this once, but you know it’s addictive. Do you think there’s a clinic? Squeaky addiction? And of course the squirrels hate you. Yes, they do. No, they do . Do you think they haven’t realized yet that they’re the squeaky ? Yes they are. No, they are . The squirrels are the squeaky. So are the cats. The cats are the squeaky too. I am not the squeaky. No, you can’t have it back. I’m gonna keep it. Because I’m mean like that. You want the squeaky? Get the squeaky back. C’mon. C’mon… nope. Nope, ’cause it’s mine.”

And then there would be the bounce and bumble of Julia’s favorite rubber squeaky toy as it caromed off Garth’s walls, followed by the scrabble of Julia’s toenails on the hardwood as she frantically tried to get the toy midbounce.

Garth couldn’t help contrast that conversation with Milo’s conversation with Mari right before he was scheduled to move back to his duplex—after Milo had recovered some of his confidence and their relationship had settled in as well. “No, you’ve forgiven me. Of course you have. Listen, if you weren’t going to forgive me, you would have blocked my number and Garth would have had to put me in a hospital. But you didn’t, so stop pretending you haven’t. You are too pretending. How do I know? Because you called me up to ask me for a recipe for cat treats. Cat treats, Mari. Who cooks for their cats, even the ones allergic to gluten? Yes, I do know it’s expensive. What about Georgie—he’s the one who gave you the cats allergic to life. What does he say? Yes, but I will. No, I will. I will too meet him, because you’ve been dating him for a month. You haven’t dated anybody for a month. This guy is important. Because if he wasn’t important he wouldn’t get your need for cats in your life. I get your need for cats, Georgie does. Because you call him Georgie, Mari!” And then, “Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know his name was Alistair? You’ve only ever called him Georgie. Do you expect me to call him Alistair?” Another pause. “Well, you get back to me when you know. And yes, I’m meeting him. I don’t know. Thanksgiving. My place. Because it’s always at my place. Well… well, hell. It can’t be your place, Mari, because you brought me a dog . Yes, yes it is your fault. Consequences, Mariana. Dogs have consequences. So my place will have to be safe.”

And then Milo’s voice grew low. Secretive. “Will Garth be there? I’ll ask him. No—because, well, because I haven’t. As far as I know, I’m like, you know, another dog. I don’t see why not. I weigh less than Chad already. I could be another dog. Just, you know, one with very specific taste in television. Dogs do too. Chad loves documentaries about Africa and Australia. If Garth leaves him home alone, he leaves the TV on the National Geographic channel, and Chad sits quietly and gnaws his chewy and bones up on sharks. No, he doesn’t get boners for sharks, he—oh, ha-ha. Yeah. I hear you. But yeah. I’ll ask him. No, not Chad. He’s automatically invited. Surprisingly enough, the dogs are easy, Mari. It’s the people who are hard.”

At this point, Garth—who had come in from work and who had been listening to Milo have this conversation from the foyer while Milo prepared dinner—dropped his toolbox with a thunk, on purpose, to let Milo know he was there. The thunk was Chad’s cue too, because Chad didn’t usually enter the living room before Garth thunked the toolbox. Sometimes dog training was as much habit as it was anything else.

“Gotta go. Garth’s home and dinner’s almost ready. No, I’m not the little woman—he cooks too. Yes. We’re roommates. What was that word in German? With-the-boners? No. That’s not it.” His voice went flat. “You’re hilarious. I’m not talking about that. Because it’s too good to ruin with sex, that’s why.” Then, sullen, “No, I don’t want to talk about that. Because it’s super cringey and embarrassing. Look, I love you, Mari. Talk more soon.”

And then he hung up and Garth was left with those little worms of unease that had occupied his stomach for, well, a month really, ever since he’d seen Milo running after Julia in his pajamas, looking unkempt and panicked and…

Alone.

Every little thing he’d let slip about his life, about Stuart, about sex—all of it had warned Garth that what had always been easy and natural and fun for Garth might not be so easy and natural and fun for somebody like Milo, who had been made to feel super uncomfortable in his own skin from a very early age.

Which was why Garth was always careful with moments like these. Milo was moving easily from Garth’s refrigerator to his stove to his counter, and Garth normally would have simply come up behind him and pulled him close, nuzzling the back of his neck and kissing his cheek.

But Milo needed to see him first, to raise his head and smile. Or sometimes, when he was working at his desk, to raise his head and stare blankly until reality settled around his eyes again.

Then once he’d smiled, Garth would slip his arm around Milo’s waist and kiss his cheek, savoring when Milo leaned into him, making happy little purring sounds in his throat and nuzzling.

Garth did that now and checked out the baked potato and hamburger thing in the casserole dish that Milo was about to put in the oven.

“Forty-five minutes?” he said hopefully, because he was hungry, and Milo grimaced.

“An hour and a half,” he apologized. “My phone kept ringing, and I got started late. But I bought some amazing cheese this afternoon, and some of those club crackers and grapes. So we’ve got a… a whatsit. A charcuterie on a plate. I’ll have that out in a sec if you want to wash up.”

Garth nodded and regarded him steadily.

“What?” Milo asked, and Garth watched his ears turn red. He knew what was coming.

“Milo, I’ll go shower, and you do what you gotta. And then I’ll come back in here, and we’ll sit at the table, and you’ll let me eat an entire block of cheese, and then… do you think we might get to that question? The one you didn’t want to answer Mari?”

Now it was Milo’s entire face that was red. “You heard that?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. I heard the part about being squidgy and embarrassing, and I sort of get that. But… but someday, when you’re ready, I was hoping to get to that sort of relationship. I need to know what we’re dealing with here. Are you ace? Demi? Because you and I could have a beautiful intimate relationship with just some touching—and, well, a lot of lube and my fist—but some touching and some darkened rooms. I would love to be intimate and monogamous with you if that was the case. But… but I’m getting the feeling it’s more than that, or different than that, and given what I know of Stuart, everything I can think of is awful. So can we talk about that when I get out of the shower?”

Milo blinked at him owlishly, and Garth hoped that this tactic would work. For three weeks they’d been with-the-boners, or whatever word Milo had been searching for, and while Garth had never expected sex in return for offering sanctuary, Milo seemed to be expecting sex. He kissed harder and more every night. He opened his mouth, arched his body sinuously against Garth’s, seemed to crave Garth’s touch as much as Garth craved his.

But Garth knew when Milo hit his discomfort threshold because his body would stiffen, he would take a step back and smile awkwardly, say something that sounded like a cross between “I’m sorry” and “thank you,” and slide into his room.

Garth had made an effort to not kiss him on the couch for just this reason. The kisses were the absolute end of the night, and sometimes Garth wanted conversation too. In fact often , because when Milo started talking, he was something. He spent a half hour one night talking about the difference between Julia and Chrysanthemum, his still-lamented cat, and Garth had listened, fascinated, because Milo had pulled out his tablet and showed pictures , all of them drawn with Milo’s fey intensity, of an amazingly fat, blow-dried brown cat with a perpetually vacant expression on his face.

Milo missed this cat, but he also had come to adore Julia, and Garth spent some of his time obsessing about Milo pondering the utter dichotomy of the two animals. Mumsy, as Milo called him, was by all accounts placid and absolutely calm and no trouble at all. Garth desperately wanted Mari’s phone number to double-check this information. He wasn’t sure Milo was a reliable narrator in the matter of his pets. The other part of that conversation had involved drawings of Julia that featured the oddly dignified but very strangely shaped “attention hound” Garth had come to know as a space-rescue dog, complete with a jet pack.

Garth loved the way Milo’s mind worked, but he didn’t always follow the gears.

So he didn’t want conversation to end with kissing, but that’s kind of what happened. Milo kissed him, turned red, and bailed.

Garth was coming to care for him more every day, but he was getting to the point where he really needed to know what was going on.

And as he dropped his clothes and hopped in his shower, he hoped what was going on still involved an invitation to Thanksgiving at Milo’s.