Wake Up Call

It's a beautiful morning. The kind of morning that makes me wish I had a dog just so I'd have a good reason to go for a walk in the park. The kind of morning that’s so perfect that I can't help but feel comfortable in my own skin as the day holds so many possibilities.

But as I shuffle into the kitchen, the first thing I do is close the curtains over the sink because the sun is too damn bright and my head is pounding.

I pour myself a big glass of water in an attempt to assuage the ceremonial drummer that has taken residence behind my eyes. I take two aspirin… fuck that, I take four… and then I make an attempt at coffee.

"Let me." A familiar but groggy voice interrupts the pounding in my brain briefly. Just briefly.

"Good morning, Marc."

"I can tell you're hung over so I'll forgive you this time, but you know I hate being called Marc." Marcellus chides me softly, as he takes the measuring scoop and coffee pot from my fingers. "Why don't you sit?"

"Why don't I?" I half-ask, half-groan in return and head for the kitchen table. I right that curséd chair that Marcellus and Sean, damn them, knocked over last night. I try to get the salt and pepper too, but bending over sends the drummer in my skull into a frenzy.

"Ugh." I groan, sinking into that selfsame chair.

Marcellus says something like, "Had a little too much fun last night?" but I'm not sure I heard correctly over the pounding in my ears and I ask him to repeat himself. The second time I hear him just fine, but he's changed the question. "Were you drinking alone, Rick?"

"Maybe." I rest my forehead in my hands. The only reason I'm awake is because the drummer won't let me sleep.

"Tsk."

"Where's Sean?"

Marcellus bends over and picks up the salt and pepper shakers himself, and sets them on the table. "He's dead asleep. He had a long night."

I want to smack the grin off his lips. "You guys wrecked this place." I can't help it. It must be the hangover. The words just come spilling out of my mouth without requesting leave from my brain.

"Fuck, yeah I'm sorry about that Rick. I'll clean it up." Marcellus has the coffee going now, I can smell it brewing. He takes a couple of steps toward the living room and picks Sean's shirt up off the floor. "He's sweet, I like him."

"I like him, too." I reply, vaguely.

Marcellus turns the shirt inside right and approaches the table with it. "Yeah, I know."

No, you don't. I thought. But it's wasn't his fault I'd never told him.

"I mean I know, Rick.”

My eyes flick up to meet his. "What?" Had I said something out loud? Damn this headache.

"You were drunk last night, Rick, I wasn't."

"Is the coffee ready?" I ask after a sigh, changing the subject. Marcellus holds my eyes for a long moment and then turns to have a look at the coffee maker.

"Mugs?"

"Cabinet above the machine."

"How do you take it?"

“It’s not easy.” I sigh.

Marcus shakes his head. “The coffee, Rick.”

"Oh. Light and sweet."

"Sugar?"

"Bowl on the counter by the stove."

Marcellus sets about making two mugs of coffee and finally sets one down in front of me. The first two sips are like liquid fire and I scorch my tongue, but I don't care, nothing tastes better after a night of drinking than hot, hot coffee… unless it's more whiskey, which I might have preferred, had I known we'd be having this conversation.

Marcellus takes a seat across from me at the table. "I guess I stepped on some toes…" he says, still using his sotto voce morning voice.

"Is this a thing? I mean are you and he…"

"No, of course not."

"Are you sure he knows that? Because he's had enough heartbreak for this year." I don't mean to sound accusing, but kind and friendly as Marcellus is, he's not a one man's man. The difference between Marcellus and Nick is that Marcellus doesn't have an adorable boy who deserves better waiting at home while he's out doing someone else. Though to be fair, Marcellus isn't nearly as sexually prolific as Nick was either. He's more the handful of buddies type. When we… well, he was upfront with me about he unwillingness to commit in a way that Nick would never have bothered to be.

"You know that hangover is making you a very unfriendly person, Rick. I think it’s for Sean to judge whether he’s had enough of me or not.”

“He’s been hurt, Marcellus, don’t do it to him again.”

Marcellus drops that line of conversation, which is just as well because I’m not self-censuring at all this moring. The pounding in my head has put my tact-filter on the fritz.

"He speaks very highly of you." He says, and I realize that in my inebriated state, I must have been projecting my emotions through a fresnel lens last night. I sigh. "He has no idea how you feel about him. I mean, he knows you love him, but he doesn't know you…" Marcellus makes a vague gesture, but his words are clear enough.

"Yeah, at this point I'm well aware." I reply, with a decent attempt at an affectionate grin.

Marcellus sips his coffee and looks at me again. “Why don’t you tell him.”

I shake my head. “No, no, not ready to tell him.”

"Don't you want him to know?"

"Yes, of course I do, when he's ready. But he's so… fluid with respect to the practicalities of life…”

"You mean clueless." Marcellus laughs softly and sips his coffee.

“Yeah ok, he’s clueless. I can't really expect him to get it. Not yet." The coffee is kicking in and the drummer in my head is beginning to make a steady retreat. "Life is always shifting for him, you know? It’s Pisces thing. He doesn't look too far, he doesn't seek out the next event, he waits for things to happen to him and then figures out how to adjust. He wouldn't notice my feelings for him any more than he saw Nick's illness for what it was. He's all about going with the flow."

"He can't be that naïve."

"I'm not so sure about that, sometimes I think maybe he is." I wouldn't change that about Sean for all the tea in China. Sure, his irresponsibility gets to me at times, and his emotional need to make people happy. I remember how angry it made me that one morning… but really, the longer I live with him the more I realize that it's not as much deliberate as it is innate. He's a creative type and his head being in the clouds is just who he is.

"So… then you don't care if we're, you know, friends with benefits?"

I sighed. "Marcellus…"

"I know, don't break his heart. Rick, relax." Marcellus takes one more sip of his coffee and sets it down on the table. "I should finish cleaning up." He smiles and gets up from the table.

"You want some breakfast?"

Sean slips into the kitchen and opens the fridge. "Yes! I'm starving!" Sean is wearing powder blue pajama bottoms that have little stars all over them and a white t-shirt. I can't help but smile at him, he's so adorable. That's when I realize with great relief that the drummer has left me and my hangover has finally calmed to a dull roar so that I can actually see.

"Nice ass." Marcellus says as he leaves the kitchen to straighten the pictures in the hall.

"Be good or I won't make you French toast, Marcellus." I tease.

Sean pulls some OJ from the fridge. "French toast!" It's Sean's favorite, I know, and he favors me with that smile that can make sunshine look dull. And as I watch him pour his OJ and shuffle barefoot around my kitchen, I wonder if the time to make my move isn't closer than I thought.