The Heat of the Moment

Chapter 1-3

Grange carried him out of the main door of the house onto the terrace. The dreaded chair was waiting for him. When Grange went to sit him in it, he held on to his shoulders tighter.

“No. I want to sit on the grass.” He was sick of the chair. Spent his life in the bloody chair.

Grange looked at him. Their faces were close and Milo could see the faintest shadow of whiskers on his cheek, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and feel the whisper of the man’s breath. “Would you like to go down to the lake?” he asked.

Milo nodded as he clung. It wasn’t too much of a walk, and the man seemed inordinately strong. Milo knew he wasn’t much of a weight, but he wasn’t exactly a feather either.

“Hold tight,” Grange said as he dipped to grab the blanket from the seat of the chair and then he stepped off the pathway and headed to the left towards the small ornamental lake.

As they walked Milo bobbed up and down, rubbing against Grange with every step. He could feel his gait, the movement of his hips, and he ached to bury his face in his neck. Milo swallowed. He wanted to lick his way from the man’s cravat to his ear and then bite. As they walked in the sun a bead of perspiration ran down the Grange’s temple and Milo ached to taste it. He held his breath when the man paused, hefted him, and then carried on.

When they got to the lake, he hesitated. “Can you stand and lean on me while I put the rug down?” Milo nodded. He couldn’t bear his weight, but he could stand a little if he had support. The man eased his useless legs down gently until he stood. He never got to stand. As his feet touched the ground, and he stood up supported by Grange, he realised that he came up just past man’s shoulder. He’d never really measured his adult self against another.

“Wait.” The word came out as a bark, and the man froze. “Hold me so I can stand longer.”

“If I stand behind you and hold you steady would that work?”

“Yes.”

Milo leaned against the broad chest at his back, and then the man’s arms came around his middle and held firm. Milo stood tall. Like a man. Stood in the summer sunshine and looked out across his land. His throat closed and he blinked. A breeze ruffled his hair and tickled his neck. Something buzzed close by and he could smell the heavy scent of some unknown flower. For a moment he let his head loll against Grange’s broad shoulder and immediately he was held tighter. He was mortified to realise that the he was going to cry.

“Set me down and leave.”

He was lowered to the ground. “Are you sure, do you…”

“Put me down and leave. Now.”

“Of course.” The sunshine had disappeared from the voice, but he couldn’t look. Couldn’t let him see. He settled himself into a position where he stood the best chance of being unobserved, fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, clamped it over his mouth, and squeezed tight his eyes. Tears rolled over his hands, and into his mouth and nose as he wept.