Page 29 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

Thomas keeps a keen eye on the entrance to the diner as he stacks dirty plates and half-empty glasses into his bus tub.

Charlie is due to arrive so they can have dinner together during his break, and he has something exciting to share.

Even though his co-workers know Charlie is his friend, they keep visits at the diner to a minimum—only every couple of months—and pretend it’s a coincidence that Charlie drops in while Thomas is working.

A month has passed since Robert Miller’s funeral and Thomas is glad Charlie seems to be doing well, although they’ve never really spoken about it in depth.

In time, he hopes Charlie will open up to him, especially about what he did that day, kissing him in front of his father.

Thomas still feels a little panicky whenever he thinks about it. What if Robert hadn’t died?

Thomas has had nightmares about that day too.

In some, Charlie strangles Robert until the life drains out of him.

In others, Thomas does it himself. A huge part of him wanted to take Robert’s life that day, but he’s grateful his self-control prevailed.

Because although he knows Charlie wanted Robert dead, Robert was still his father, and that’s a complicated thing.

Thomas knows only too well, his feelings for his own father full of ambiguity and contradiction.

The bell on the diner door jingles and Thomas looks up from the table he’s cleaning.

He’s powerless to stop the smile that spreads across his face.

They have been together almost three years now, yet Charlie still makes his heart race every time he sets eyes upon him.

Charlie plays the game, keeping his eyes down as he shrugs off his jacket, but there is a rosy flush to his cheeks.

Thomas loves the way Charlie still blushes for him.

Walking over to greet him, he tries to affect a casual tone. “Evening, Charles. What brings you in tonight? We haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Oh, hey there, Thomas. Thought I’d grab myself some grub on my way home from work. How ya been?” He extends his hand and they shake.

“I’m great! Just graduated from college a few months back.” He glances toward the counter where one of the new waitresses is watching them with undisguised interest. “Look, uh, I’m about to go on my dinner break. Would you like some company? You can catch me up on all your news.”

“Sounds great. Can I take any available booth?”

“Of course, take your pick. Do you know what you want? I can put your order in with mine.”

“Surprise me,” Charlie says with a wink that brings heat rushing to Thomas’s skin. Three years in and Charlie is still making him blush too.

Thomas cleans a few more tables while he waits for their food and then joins Charlie in the corner booth he’s chosen, farthest from the kitchen where the staff congregate. They dig into their meatloaf and mash, legs pressed together under the table.

“I have news,” Thomas blurts out after only a few bites, unable to keep it in any longer.

Charlie stops eating, fork midway to his mouth, eyebrows raised in question.

“I got offered a teaching position at St. Patrick’s.”

Charlie frowns. “The Catholic boys’ school?” He places his fork back down on his plate.

“Yes. Teaching English and history.” Thomas is frowning now too, Charlie’s reaction confusing him. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am.” Charlie’s eyes dart around the diner before he reaches across the table and briefly squeezes Thomas’s hand. “It’s just that . . . I thought you wanted nothing more to do with the church. How can you be happy there?”

Thomas puts his own knife and fork down.

“I understand why you’d worry, but I don’t need to stay there forever.

If I work hard, I could get a better position at another school within a few years.

Besides, I’ll be there to teach English and history, not recite the bible or lead morning prayer.

And the salary is good, Charlie. Really good!

And . . . well, I had an idea. You got a raise last month, right?

And now I’ll be earning a good wage too.

It got me thinking . . .” Thomas trails off, a little out of breath.

He very much wants Charlie to be in favor of his plan, but he’s afraid Charlie will reject it without consideration.

He knows this would be great for them, but he needs to sell it just right.

“Well? Ya just gonna stare at me, or ya going to tell me what you’re thinking in that big red head of yours?”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Calm down. I don’t want you to hear what I have to say and then jump to conclusions without actually thinking about it, okay?”

Charlie pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Normally, Thomas would find this endearing and laugh, but not today.

Placing his elbows on the table, he leans forward.

“With both our wages combined, I think we could afford to move into our own house.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continues, “We could stop sneaking around and just breathe for once.”

Charlie’s body stills and his eyes widen.

Thomas watches as something that looks a lot like hope—excitement, even—flits across Charlie’s face before his expression quickly circles back to fear.

“Tommy,” he whispers, already shaking his head in resignation, “how are we gonna explain two men living together who ain’t blood related? ”

But Thomas has already pondered this a great deal.

“A bachelor pad! We rent a two-bedroom place and furnish both rooms—one with your things, one with mine. When our families visit it’ll just look like two roommates sharing a house to save money.

Charlie,”—he desperately wants to reach for his hand, but he restrains himself—“we have to stop thinking everyone knows. They don’t.

It’s been almost three years. We can get away with it, I know we can.

” Thomas leans back in the booth, feeling confident.

“We’ll just need to go on more dates, maybe. ”

“And if we get caught?” Charlie asks, clearly still not sold on the idea.

“And if we don’t?” Thomas counters.

“Tommy, I’m serious.” Charlie leans further forward, his voice barely audible. “They’ll throw us in fuckin’ prison. You know what happens to men like us in the big house?”

“I’m willing to risk it. I’d risk anything for you, Charlie Miller. I thought you understood that by now.”

Charlie’s expression softens, his blue eyes like sunlight sparkling on a lake in summer. “I do. And that’s what scares me.”

“What are you saying? Are you getting cold feet after three years? Because I’m telling you right now, I’d rather die young than live a lifetime without you.”

Charlie chuckles, finally relaxing back in his seat. “You’re an incurable romantic, Red, ya know that? You read too much of that fancy boy poetry.”

Thomas smirks. “Are you saying you wouldn’t die for me?” he teases.

“You know I would.” Charlie holds his gaze, steady and sure, and yes, Thomas does know. Charlie smiles, soft and sweet, then says, “All right.”

“All right what?”

“All right, let’s see if we can get our own place.”

Thomas wants to throw himself across the table and kiss Charlie until he’s gasping for air.

Instead, he settles for brushing his foot against Charlie’s calf and mouthing, “I love you.” Just the thought of sharing a home with Charlie makes him vibrate with excitement and something he hasn’t felt in a while.

Hope.

Charlie

It takes only a few weeks to find the perfect house.

Charlie wants to be close to his mother, and, fortunately, Thomas doesn’t mind settling on the less affluent side of the city.

The street is quiet and the rent manageable, and while the two-bedroom house is small, it’s well maintained.

Their families barely question their motives.

Only Bridget seems perplexed as to why Thomas wants to move out of the O’Reilly house and waste his money on rent rather than save his wages.

Thomas angrily tells his sister he wants to learn how to be independent so he can be a good husband and father one day.

Charlie has to hand it to him—Thomas is one clever son of a bitch.

Moving in takes all weekend, even with Michael, Eddie, and Donnie helping.

They find some cheap secondhand items, including a dining setting and two armchairs for the sitting room.

Thomas brings his bed from his family home, and Charlie uses most of his savings to buy a double bed for his room—which will be their room, unbeknownst to their families.

On top of that, Loretta and Bridget each assemble some items for the kitchen—plates, bowls, knives and forks, glasses and mugs, and some cookware—and Eddie surprises Thomas with a radio as a housewarming gift.

Thomas’s face lights up like a damn Christmas tree when he sees it, and Charlie smiles fondly, knowing Thomas is thinking about evenings spent slow dancing.

Alone. They’ll still need many more items to fill the house, but they have enough to start.

And Charlie is good with finances and already has a savings plan that will get them all the things they need over the next few months.

Just before seven o’clock on Sunday night, after the last person finally leaves, Charlie locks the door and then walks through the house, closing all the curtains. Satisfied, he returns to the kitchen where Thomas is warming up the meal Charlie’s mother left for them.

“Tommy,” he says, leaning against the door frame.

Thomas hums in answer but continues plating their food.

Charlie tries again—“Sweetheart,” he says—and this time Thomas turns, their eyes connecting. “We did it. We’re alone. And we’re safe.”