Written by: Brad
Raven pushed away his empty plate and sat back in his chair to contemplate the man across the table from him. He took in the broad shoulders, muscular arms, and large hands with well-manicured fingernails. He admitted to himself that he liked what he saw. He studied the handsome face and found himself inexplicably drawn to the kind hazel eyes, which appeared all knowing and understanding.
Raven was at a loss to understand why he knew beyond a doubt, he could trust this man. Trust in someone was not something he had a lot of. In fact he had little faith in anything and in order to avoid being disappointed had deliberately developed the habit of turning his nose up at any type of overture on anyone else’s part.
“Huh, what would your expectations be of me? I mean, you must have some. Everyone usually does,” Raven muttered, desperately trying to re-erect the walls he habitually hid behind and sought protection with. How and when had his defences crumbled, leaving him temporarily feeling so vulnerable?
“Well, I would certainly appreciate you getting in at a decent hour, keeping any noise down to a reasonable level, picking up after yourself and doing your fair share of the general daily upkeep around the loft.” Conrad watched the expressions playing across Raven’s beautiful youthful face. He saw the wariness, disbelief, longing and finally a ray of optimism. “Tell me, Raven, can you cook?”
“Enough to keep myself alive,” the young man snorted. “I excel at can-opening and re-heating.”
“Humph! I can see where most the meal preparation will fall to me,” Conrad predicted with a good-natured chuckle. “So maybe you could take care of the clean-up after our meals, fair enough?”
“Yeah,” Raven shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “I guess I can do that as long as you don’t expect me to assume responsibility for all the menial tasks about the place.”
“Actually I have maid-service twice a week to handle the vast amount of housecleaning involved in maintaining a two-bedroom apartment averaging one occupant, and a neat one at that.” Conrad laughed at the look of exasperation that resulted from his satirical comment.
“How much rent would you charge me?”
“We can work that out later. It’s not a big deal,” Conrad assured him. “So, what do you say, kid?”
Seeing the hesitancy to make a decision, Conrad made a suggestion. “Would it help if we exchanged a bit of info on ourselves?” Getting a nod of agreement, he continued. “Okay! How about you refilling our mugs with hot coffee and I’ll start?”
“Hmmm, that’s better!” Conrad hummed appreciatively when Raven had filled his request. “Well let’s see. I was raised in what some would refer to as the lap of luxury. There are plenty of people who erroneously still believe money can buy everything, including happiness.” He paused to collect his thoughts, his childhood always a sore subject for him.
“My mother eventually got tired of the constant need to attend the social ladder-climbing activities she was totally uninterested in. She also decided spending any more time with a cold, unapproachable man held little advantages and opted out for a place in warmer climates. We haven’t heard from her since and that was over fifteen years ago.”
“I grew up to realise my father and I had absolutely nothing in common. Nothing I did pleased him and I actually began to enjoy considerable satisfaction in opposing him. His outrage at my desire to become a police officer, cemented my occupational choice.” Conrad grimaced at the memory of his father’s tight-lipped, angry-red face when he had made the announcement of having enrolled at the Police Academy.
“I met my loft-mate, Brandon, on my first day at the Academy. We roomed together and quickly became inseparable friends; like brothers actually. We graduated and moved through the ranks together until the accident that ended my career just over a year ago. Brandon made his own choice to resign the force. He has since turned his energies to becoming an author of mysteries.” Conrad took another mouthful of his cooling drink.
“Are you gay?”
Raven’s blunt question coming at him from left field, caused Conrad to spray coffee over the table. Wiping his mouth and chin, he answered honestly. “Brandon and I are both gay. Although we love each other, we have never been nor will we ever be lovers. What made you ask that?”
“It suddenly occurred to me that it was at the gay bar last night where I first saw you.” Raven shifted in his seat, wondering how invasive his wanting to ask more questions would be. “Ah, How long have you known….I mean when did you discover your….” He blushed uncomfortably, unable to continue and lifted his coffee mug to his lips in hopes of diverting attention from his uneasiness.
“I was in my teens. I only told my mother and at one time wondered if it hadn’t added to her reasons for leaving. Before your curiosity gets the better of you, I have had numerous short-lived affairs but no long-term relationships.” Conrad smiled into his cup as the blush on Raven’s face intensified, darkening the already deeply coloured features. “Your turn!” he abruptly announced.
“I, ah, grew up on a reservation quite far from here,” the young man haltingly started. He sat up straighter, shook back the hair that had escaped his braid, cleared his throat and continued. “My father died in a hunting accident a couple of months before I was born. My mother died of undetected breast cancer when I was five. I was raised until the age of twelve by my maternal grandfather.” Raven took a deep breath and quietly added. “I was much happier back then. I was home.”
Conrad instinctively picked-up on a sadness that some event at the time must have caused and waited patiently for the young man to go on with his story. After several moments of silence, he gently encouraged. “What happened after you turned twelve?”
“They came; the social workers who said my grandfather was too old to be raising a boy who had started hanging around with the wrong crowd and was heading down the road to trouble. They took me away from him and placed me in foster care. I was shoved from one house to another throughout my teens before being moved into the group place. I had to figure it out for myself how I was different from the other boys I came in contact with.” Raven spent several more minutes contemplating that period in his young life. “What the hell,” he stated and looked up to read Conrad’s expression. He was surprised to see a complete lack of judgement. “At least I got most my Bachelor Degree paid for before they kicked me out of the system. I’ve been on my own since graduating over a year ago. I have a degree in fine arts and the only work I’ve been able to find that holds my interest, is part-time at Stedman’s Auto Body. I moved into the flat with three guys who placed an ad for a fourth roommate. ”
“Have you ever had any other jobs?” Conrad asked conversationally.
“Sure! Off and on during high school and college I slaved in some fast-food joints,” was the sneered answer.
“Ever think of returning to the reservation and your grandfather?” Conrad softly prodded, wondering what wounds if any he would be opening.
“Can’t! He died when I was sixteen. The bastards didn’t even tell me until two years later. I never even got the chance to thank him or tell him how much I loved and missed him. I never said a proper goodbye,” Raven murmured, keeping his head down in hopes of hiding tear-filled eyes, but his posture gave away his emotional distress.
Giving his guest time to regain his composure, Conrad mentally reviewed all that had been said and all that had been left unsaid. Raven deliberately avoided calling any place home other than the reservation. He unconsciously unveiled his lack of trust in people and his lack of faith in the world in general; the reasons for his deficiency in social skills both apparent and understandable. The boy was an island. He stood alone, frightened and unsure of his future or in his place in the scheme of things.
“You are more than welcome to make a place for yourself here, Raven, with me. This may only be a loft to you but I believe together, we can turn it into a home. What do you say, kid?”
Raven drained the last of his coffee, then fiddle with the used cutlery by his plate as he glanced about the spacious room. He liked it here. It felt warm and inviting. He hung his head, took a couple of minutes to build up his courage enough to take a chance. “Okay, I’ll accept your offer,” he replied in a small uncertain voice. “Ah, thanks!” He smiled tentatively and was rewarded with a face-splitting grin from his benefactor.
The End
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