42
CHRIS
He wasn't about to admit to too much out loud, but, yes. Chris was after Frank’s heart. It was way too soon to tell him. The man was too skittish. He’d probably run.
Again.
It was almost certainly not what Frank had meant. Chris doubted the feelings were mutual; he just wanted to believe they were.
The moment they’d entered the bedroom, Chris had noticed the unusual and unmissable massive chair—if it was a chair. The unique, strange, wooden object dominated a corner of the room. Having something to distract them from discussions of the heart was indeed fortuitous.
Chris hadn’t commented earlier, however. There had been other more critical things commanding his attention: sex, sleep, food, in that order.
Despite wanting to freshen up before eating, Chris didn’t want to move, afraid that leaving the room would snap the bond between them. He wanted to strengthen the relationship and get to know Frank better.
And he wanted to know about the thing in the corner.
"What do you mean, what is it?" Frank laughed as if he'd made a joke, but Chris didn't get it.
"Obviously it's a chair. You're a fine one to ask when you get asked that all the time."
"A chair. Yes. Well, I've never seen one like it before."
"No, you haven't. But if you see it from the corner of your eye, or squint, does it seem familiar?"
Chris tried looking away, rubbing his eyes and squinting, but he didn't know what Frank was getting at. "Um. Yes. Did you make it?"
"Yes, I made it. With my own two hands." Frank held up his palms. "I wasn't pissed when I made it, and I didn't run out of wood. They aren't the reasons it's lopsided. It’s inspired by olden time fairy stories of milking maids and spinning wheels. It seemed the spinners were always pricking their fingers in fairy stories."
"Ha, hence the three legs. Like a milking stool."
Perfectly happy to accept it as a work of art and beauty without any explanation, Chris wanted to hear Frank discuss his creation in detail. He wondered about the thought processes behind the finished result. "Tell me about it. What made you make it?" Chris asked.
"Well, the lopsided proportions are deliberate."
Chris could understand that. He often experimented with a lack of symmetry, incongruous proportions, and illusion in his own work. He nodded, eager to hear more. "Go on."
"In history lessons at school, we learned about children working in textile factories where they risked losing fingers. In England, those working practices ended over hundred years ago. I think. But then, when I traveled in Asia, I realized kids and adults still work in dangerous conditions in factories making cloth and clothes to sell in the west. It made a big impact on me because my grandmother lost a finger when she was a child."
"How?"
"Using a mangle. Apparently, mangle injuries were very common in the olden days too. Not in a factory, but still related to clothes. I was always fascinated by her hand that had three fingers and a thumb."
"Gosh. I can't imagine what that must have been like to lose. How does that relate to your chair?"
"I loved those childhood fairy stories. I imagined things like spinning wheels and mangles to be magical but dangerous. You could say I developed a morbid fascination with that kind of machinery. I know what I've created doesn't look like either of those things, but I imagined a woman sitting in the chair doing some equally amazing work with an old mechanical contraption next to her. So that beautiful log on one side represents a mangle, a spinning wheel, or something else.”
"It's a great tribute to your vision. I can completely see what you had in mind." Chris swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. "And it's beautiful to look at." He was about to stand up and ask if he could take a shower, but Frank spoke first.
"There is more to the story. I also thought about when kids go to college instead of working in those factories, and they sit in those lecture chairs with the tables attached." Frank appeared hesitant.
"Yes. I know the ones."
"They stick in my mind too, because my brother went to college and frequently complained to us, his family, about those lecture halls and classrooms because he is left-handed. There'd never be enough left-handed chairs to go around. And well, taking notes in a lecture, gaining an education represents replacing the old low-paid work with education."
"Okay. That's profound." Chris sensed there was even more to this explanation that he didn't understand. But perhaps it would take time to unwrap the layers and understand the man in depth. "I think I should shower before the food arrives."
"You don’t have to. I like the smell of you how you are." Frank placed a hand on Chris's shoulder and moved closer.
"I love the smell of you too, but you could join me."
"Oh, yes. Of course, the bathroom's to the right. I'll grab towels."
They showered quickly, playfully batting each other’s wandering hands away and reminding each other that their Indian cuisine would be delivered at any minute.
Frank pulled out spare sweatpants and a T-shirt for Chris and dressed the same way himself. And somehow they resisted getting back into bed instead of going downstairs. The hunger in Chris's stomach outshone his hunger for Frank's body, which had been partially sated. For now.
In the kitchen, they sorted out cold beer and placed the warm beer back in the fridge. The bottles were barely open when a knock at the front door indicated the food had arrived.
Chris knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were compatible in the bedroom and that they fancied the pants off each other—when they were wearing pants. They'd gone past that stage. More than just sexual chemistry, which they had by the bucket load, Chris felt that he'd found a man he could become close to on other levels. Every level. They seemed to have similar interests and attitudes towards many things. Not least, art.
He was staggered by how much Frank's thought process concerning society and the way he processed those ideas in abstract art mirrored Chris's approach. Frank clearly had never trained formally as an artist; he’d worked it out for himself. From what Frank had said previously about himself, Chris suspected he had little if any education past the minimum school leaving age. And yet thinking about education had played a part in his marvelous surreal bedroom piece.
They'd finished eating.
"I couldn't eat another thing." Chris sat back with his belly feeling full and almost empty cartons sitting on the table before them.
"I've eaten too much," Frank complained and placed a hand on his stomach. "I can't resist a good thing." His irresistible crooked smile flashed across his face.
Wondering if they knew enough about each other to move on to dating and updating their status to boyfriends, Chris decided to probe for more information.
"Why have you hidden away that wonderful chair in your bedroom?"
"It's a small house, and it makes too much of a statement down here."
"A good statement in my opinion."
"Ash never thought so. My ex. She didn't like the quirky stuff that I liked. She was into things being practical and designer. She especially didn't like the stuff I made; she couldn't see the point. For her, it was easier to go and buy stuff." Frank rubbed his hand down his cheek and examined the table as he spoke.
"Sounds like she just had different taste?" Chris observed diplomatically.
"Er, I thought so too, once. Now that I'm completely over that breakup I can see the relationship in a whole different light. I don't think we were ever in love with each other. We'd gotten together young and I know I just liked the idea of being in love. We both like traveling, but when we were at home, the lifestyles we wanted were very different. She was disappointed in me because I wasn't the man she wanted me to be. But I am me, not a thing she can transform."
"I like you just as you are. Funny and creative."
The familiar crooked grin appeared on Frank's face. "Gee, thanks."
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" asked Chris.
Frank sat up a little straighter and gave Chris his full attention. "I’m not sure. It sounds impossible. I think I’d have to get to know someone before I fell in love."
"That’s what I thought too. Tom says I'm not romantic enough."
"I don't think it has anything to do with being romantic. You don't know what someone is like until you get to know 'em." Frank laughed. "That really sounds stupid, doesn't it. You know what I mean."
The way he could so easily laugh at himself, Chris found it charming and refreshing.
"I do know what you mean. I’ve been badly let down by guys that I’ve dated in the past. All seems good to start with, but as soon as I get to know them they're not what they seem. I think you can tell a lot within a short time though. Like over a few dates."
"Yeah, I agree. You can get to know someone well enough to form an opinion in a short time. Just not instantly."
"My lodger, Tom, you know him. He's seeing your friend Ben. Tom tells me when I meet the right man I’ll know instantly because that's how it was for him when he met Ben. Literally, love at first sight."
"Ben didn't say as such, but he's smitten with Tom. I mean, it's no secret he’s in love, and it's been a whirlwind romance. Now they're planning a wedding. But Ben's never actually said he was struck by love at first sight. It's not the way we talk at work."
"No, I suppose not. At home, Tom's a romantic daydreamer anyway."
"You two never—?" Frank trailed off.
"Are you asking if we've coupled?"
"Coupled, yeah."
"Oh no. Gay men can be friends without fucking, you know."
"Hey, I didn’t mean they couldn’t be. I’m just asking because I want to know more about you. I mean all about you."
"Oh, okay. I’m not Tom’s type. He likes 'em rugged and he’s not my type. I mean. I like topping and he’s more of a bottom, but he likes his men butch and rugged, and I suppose I want someone who’s… not him. You know we’re so similar, both artistic and not opposite enough to have any attraction."
"So you don’t believe in love at first sight?" Frank asked.
"I think attraction at first sight is a real thing. I fancied you from the start and have since." The candid answer slipped out, and Chris decided to follow it by throwing all his cards on the table. "And I could fall in love with you, Frank. I’ve never met anyone like you. I know that's a bit much too soon, but if you'd like to spend the weekend with me, we could work on getting to know each other better."
"Well, that’s convenient because my own plans for the weekend involved stalking you. You're making it easy. And I'll be spending next week with you too, at least some of the time, for a couple of days. I’ll be coming to London with you to set up the scaffold."
"You are? Was that Lee's idea?" asked Chris.
"Lee and Connor both thought I should sweep you off your feet with a romantic gesture. And only go to London if I'd won your heart."
Chris didn't know how to feel about this new information. Suddenly it seemed the way Frank tracked him down with text messages and offers of dinner was him acting on other people's suggestions, and not his own initiative.
Frank got up from his chair and got down on his knees in front of Chris.
"They only said that today. After I'd already decided I needed to do whatever it took to let you know I'm sorry and ask for a second chance." Frank took Chris's two hands in his. "I didn’t just want to say I'm sorry, and take you to dinner and to bed. I wanted to ask you if we could date. Will you be my boyfriend, or even my husband? I don't know what your views are on marriage."
A proposal!
Things were moving much faster than Chris expected.