Ravenous

Chapter 3

Michael lived six doors down from me on Heshner Street in Channing. His Tudor seemed larger than it was from a street view. It looked haunting due to its grey shutters and black brick walls. A wrought-iron gate decorated the front yard, and dark limestone created a walkway to the abode’s tiny front porch and door.

I let myself in and discovered Michael kneeling on his kitchen floor, crying. Surrounded in flour, chocolate batter, aluminum circular tins, and sugar, he looked up at me with his baby blues and sniffled.

“It’s over, Hatch. The five-tier wedding cake will never be done on time. I’ve ruined everything. As you can see, it’s a disaster. Everything has crashed around me.”

A chuckle lifted at the back of my throat because of his emotional breakdown over a baking incident, but I kept it there. At his side, practically on my knees, I chose to console the drama queen who could have passed as Justin Hartley’s twin because of his light brown hair, matching scruff on his chin and cheeks, and caramel-colored eyes. I helped him off the floor, hugged him, and rubbed his back.

“Stop sobbing for a few seconds and tell me everything that happened. As your friend, I’m here to help you.”

Long story short, the amateur baker had agreed to make his brother and future sister-in-law’s wedding cake: a five-tiered, triple chocolate tower with chocolate buttercream icing. He had his wedding cake batter prepared for the floured tins. And just as he was about to fill the first tin, his left foot slipped on a square of butter that had somehow ended up on the kitchen floor. As Michael fell, chocolate batter went flying with tins, a plastic tub of sugar, and a bag of opened flour. Michael ended up wearing the ingredients, splayed on the floor like a beginning ice skater.

I attempted to calm him down. “Listen to me, Michael. You start a new batter, and I’ll clean up this mess. Before you know it, you’ll be back on your schedule. I can promise you that Tony and his bride won’t even know about this disaster. You can have this cake done by dawn with a little extra work. If I have to stay up all night and help you, I will.”

Honestly, I couldn’t wait to be Michael’s date for the occasion. I loved attending weddings, gay or straight. Although Michael had a husband, Richard Van Meer, for the last six years, Richard wasn’t going to be in town the weekend of Tony and Theresa’s wedding. Therefore, Michael obtained special permission from his beloved that I replace him as Michael’s date. Richard accepted, realizing that Michael and I were just friends.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you,” he repeated, squeezing me against him.

Suffering from lack of air, I grunted. “I suggest you keep selling insurance instead of baking. What do you say?”

“I can’t promise that. I love to bake. I’ve been baking since I was ten.” He pulled away from me, looked up at the ceiling, and crossed himself. “God rest her soul in heaven.”

“I hear you.” I got to work cleaning up his mess and helping him in his fraught stage of dire straits.

* * * *

Later that night, while driving to a convenience store for Michael to fetch him a pack of Camels, of all things, I saw Kevin on Lincoln Street again. I stopped again and asked him if he was hungry.

“Starving,” he said. Dirty-faced. Smelled of soot for some strange reason.

I gave him a twenty.

He smiled at me. Nodded. October wind blew through his tangle of netted hair. “You’re a good man, Hatch.”

“You remember my name?”

“The good guys are always easy to remember.”

“What’s your full name?” I inquired, prying.

“Kevin Balk. No middle name.”

He could have been lying to me. I didn’t care really. Why would I since we were strangers to each other?

I thought about crossing a line in our conversation and wanted to tell him that he had the most beautiful aquamarine eyes I had ever seen on a man. Being respectful, I didn’t do that, though. Rather, I kept my manners in check. Good for me.

“I’ll eat tonight,” he told me, grinning. “Tomorrow, too. Thanks again.”

Dirty and stinky or not, I wanted to climb out of my Jeep and hug him. Something uncanny drew me towards him. A thick wave of positive emotion came over me. It pulled at me and made me feel as if it were right to somehow, someway care for him as another human being, and supply him with a comforting hug, perhaps just to prove we were both of the same fabric on the planet.

I didn’t climb out of the Jeep, though. Nor did I hug him. Instead, I told him, “Goodnight, Kevin. Be safe.”

He waved goodbye as I drove away.

Strange how men from different worlds could connect, and with such misunderstood ease.