Page 18 of Love in Mission City

A long pause followed. Then, “That would be okay. I know I haven’t seen it.”

“Have you ever seen a gay movie?”

Reddening cheeks. “Uh, no. I mean, it doesn’t bother me or anything. Just…” He drew in a quick breath and let it out slowly. “I haven’t seen a lot of…” He cleared his throat.

“Sex?”

He nodded furiously.

“Well, there’s one scene, and it’s artfully done.”

“Uh, okay.”

By mutual agreement, we rose.

Henry appeared a little confused by the dishwasher, and I silently showed him how to load the dishes. He put his containers away in his basket while I scooped up the ice cream.

Then he followed me into the family room.

Although the couch was a dual recliner, I sat closer to the center and patted the seat near me.

After a moment, Henry sat. Stiffly.

Still, I considered this progress.

I cued up the movie and proceeded to laugh my way through the entire film.

Slowly, Henry relaxed.

Halfway through the movie, Zeus leapt onto the couch and hunkered down next to Henry, pushing him closer to me.

I paused the movie. “Is this okay? I can tell him to get down—”

“No.” Henry said the word forcefully. He petted Zeus. “I like this. A lot.”

We resumed watching the movie. By the end, Henry was laughing with me. When the credits began to roll, I turned off the video. I turned to Henry, belatedly realizing my knee touched his thigh.

He didn’t shift away.

“Okay, what did you think? Be honest.”

After clearing his throat, he met my gaze. “The, uh, sex scene was artfully done. And the story was funny. I’m not sure how realistic it was. But then, I don’t know anything about those things.”

“Well, they had professionals advising them, but I’m certain they took artistic license. Okay, do you want to watch something else?” We were barely past eight o’clock.

He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“Do you want more ice cream?”

Another shake of the head.

“What would you like?”

He petted Zeus again. “Just to sit here for a minute.”

“Sure.” I resisted the urge to rest my arm against the back of the sofa and to let my fingers wander to explore.

Is his beard soft? Would he make little noises of pleasure when I scratched it? Does he feel this strange connection?