The Tom Jones Treatment

By Ayame
 
Notes: Takes place many years before “After 7” but does not contain spoilers. Meyer and Kiefer are lovers separated by distance and when they re-unite there is some tension.

Warnings: Meyer and Kiefer are plus-sized dudes and there is homosexual sex in the story. If you don’t like that kind of stuff, read another story.

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Kiefer pounced on Meyer in the dark. It was chilly, late autumn, and the two of them had snuck out to be with each other. Kiefer was shorter, but heavier than Meyer, and pulled him down into the grass, rolling over so that he was under Meyer, the way he liked best.

Kiefer looked up at Meyer’s black face. His eyes shone in the moonlight and stood out from his dark fur. He opened his mouth into a grin that shone in the light, too, before he buried his face in the crook of Kiefer’s neck, nuzzling, licking. It drove Kiefer crazy.

Ever since they’d first lost their virginity to each other in at age 13, they snuck out to be with each other as much as possible. Even if it was snowing, they’d at least sneak out and huddle under the porch, talking, making out, shivering. They were in love.

It was their junior year of high school now. They still couldn’t get enough of each other. Kiefer loved Meyer’s hands. He loved his tongue and he really loved being fucked by Meyer.

Meyer unbuttoned Kiefer’s flannel shirt, parting the soft fabric and pulling up his t-shirt underneath. He nuzzled Kiefer’s soft belly. Kiefer had always been fat. He’d been a fat kid, and he was a fat teenager. Meyer, as a teen, was tall with a football player build. He even used to play football until his grades got too low to stay on the team this year. He was still in good shape. He was beautiful to Kiefer.

His hands traveled lower, finding the buttons to Kiefer’s jeans. He grinned…

…and Kiefer woke up to the shrill sound of his alarm clock. He fumbled for it, smacking the stupid thing and lay back down, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. It was one of those ceilings made of panels. Kiefer stared at it, remembering the dream. It had actually happened between them, a long time ago—they’d laid and rolled in the grass many times. This was before Kiefer had to move all the way across the country to Pasadema.

He hadn’t seen Meyer in five years.

They wrote one another all the time. Sometimes they called each other. But it wasn’t the same. He missed him. He and Meyer had known each other forever. Their parents knew each other, too. Both of their fathers worked for the same company in Nuremberg and had come to the States together to work for NASA in Ohio when Meyer and Kiefer were 4 in elementary school. That’s where Meyer and Kiefer met and found out they lived on the same street.

Both of them were bilingual in German and English. They even looked a lot alike. Meyer was a black chow and Kiefer was a brown chow. They both had purple tongues and longish hair. The only big difference was that Meyer was much taller and that Kiefer was fat.

Kiefer turned to look at the picture he had of Meyer on his desk. It was Meyer in his football uniform before he was kicked off the team. He held his helmet loosely in his hand and was pushing his black hair away from his face. The uniform was green and Meyer looked hot wearing it. Kiefer liked all that extra padding on him. It looked—sexy. He couldn’t say why.

The doorknob rattled and Kiefer’s roommate entered the room and kicked his bed. Kiefer looked up at Jeff, a spotted Dalmatian who wore glasses. Jeff tossed a letter at Kiefer. “Get up. You got mail and you’re going to be late for class, again.”

Kiefer shrugged. “I’m thinking of dropping out anyway,” he said. “Thanks for the letter.”

“Whatever,” Jeff said and grabbed his bag and left. Kiefer rubbed his eyes. Jeff didn’t like rooming with a gay guy. He was always worried that Kiefer would try to anal rape him in the night. Kiefer thought it was hilarious. As if he’d want Jeff’s skinny, myopic ass.

Kiefer sat up and turned the letter over to see the return address. It was from Meyer. His heart beat a little faster and he hurried to open it. He unfolded the notebook paper inside and smiled to see Meyer’s neat handwriting.

The letter said:

Dear Kiefer,

First of all, I miss you. I always miss you. We used to be together all the time. Remember that we even took the same classes in high school? Remember how bad I was at math?  And Physics, too. You were really good. :)

Well, anyway, you asked how school is. The culinary school is really hard! I wish I could go full-time, but I can’t. I have to work, too, to pay for school. My financial aid is waiting on my residency papers. I’m glad you have yours. Mine is taking forever. When we’re back together, we need to apply for citizenship together. Maybe we can get married in one of those states that allows it. I wish you could come to college out here, but I know it’s better for you to be there. It’s a good school and close to your folks. I know there’s tension with them, but they’re your family. You should keep trying to work it out.

I know you wanted a picture, too. I’d like to send you one. I like the one you sent me. You haven’t changed. You’re always nothing but beautiful to me. I miss you so much. Did I say that already? Anyway, I mean, I want to send you a picture, but the thing is, I’m kind of embarrassed. I’m starting to get a bit of a belly and I know it’s stupid, but I’d like you to remember me the way I was in high school, at least for a little while longer.

Sounds stupid, huh?

Well, I’ve gotta go. By the way, my folks say hi to your folks. My dad is really kind of not doing so well with his cancer and everything. I told you he had chemo, right? But don’t worry about anything. I’m fine and go to see them as much as possible. Dad says he’s going to beat it.

Anyway, gotta go,

Love you more than anything,
Tchuss,
Meyer

Kiefer folded the letter up and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling. There were hundreds of little dots in the panels on the ceiling. Hundreds and hundreds.

He guessed he could go ahead and finish school. But he was still a sophomore and he couldn’t pick a major. So far, he was basically minoring in math, physics, economics, and comparative lit. He couldn’t decide on any of them, or even if he should try a new field.

But more than anything, he wanted to get out of this city. He hated it without Meyer. He didn’t care where Meyer was. It didn’t matter to him that the place Meyer lived now was a tiny place. Meyer said Kent City was a Podunk town full of hippies and college students.

But Kiefer didn’t care if he stayed at CIT anymore. He suddenly had a better idea.

He pushed the covers off and rifled through his drawers. He dressed in his loosest, most washed and comfortable pair of jeans, a big t-shirt and a hoodie. He wagged his curly, fluffy tail, thinking about his plan.

Instead of getting ready for class, Kiefer packed whatever would fit into his backpack and started the long walk to the Greyhound station. It was about five miles away and he had too much energy to stand around waiting for city buses. When he got there, four hours of walking later, he was exhausted. He saw a little kid staring at him. The kid said, “You’re fat.”

“No duh,” Kiefer said. “You’re short.” He walked away and looked for the ticket counter.

He bought a ticket and sat down. The chairs in waiting areas were always too small for him. He was thoroughly uncomfortable in a few minutes, so he stood up, found some vending machines and got a good supply of junk food to last for the ride. He was going from one coast almost to another. Kent City was far, really far: he guessed he’d be eating chocolate and chips and drinking soda the whole way there.

He checked the ticket time and still had about an hour for the bus to show up. So he stuffed the food into his backpack and went outside. He found a spot in a corner away from everybody else where no one would see him. He lit up a joint and puffed deeply. He was glad he’d brought his stash. He knew he smoked too much, but he was bored most of the time. He was going to be bored on this trip. He only had one book to read.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of the smoke in the back of his mouth. He thought about Meyer and his heart raced. He should have done this a long time ago. He should have just left town like this. His parents wouldn’t care. They didn’t care too much about him anymore, now that they knew he was gay. He came out to them last year and now they barely spoke. They used to be proud of him: the scholarships he’d won to CIT, the hard work he put in to pay for school. Kiefer guessed he might call them when he got to Kent City. He’d call the school then, too. It’s not like he hadn’t already paid his tuition for the semester. He’d paid for school by working in a warehouse for two years. He did it. No one else. That’s where he’d learned to smoke pot…

He realized his mind was racing. He forced himself to calm down and smoked the joint to the end. The high hit him in a circular wave that started in the base of his stomach and curled upwards to his head. It felt so good!

He leaned against the cinder-block wall of the station, behind the dumpster and let the waves of feeling ride over his body. He rubbed his round belly and shifted. His mind evened out. He stopped thinking.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood up, wobbly and very high. He walked in a haze to the end of the line for his bus. He grinned foolishly at the bus driver and sat down in the back of the bus.

No one sat next to him, which suited him just fine. The last seat on the bus was the best seat and the worst seat at the same time: it was right next to the bathroom, but it was also three seats wide, instead of two. Kiefer was short enough that he could lay back and sleep on it later.

He leaned against the wall, touched the blue seats, feeling how good they felt. He felt good, too. He was high, on a bus and going to see his boyfriend.

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Meyer walked home from the restaurant after close and he was exhausted. It was past 3 am on a Sunday, and tomorrow he’d have classes all day. Friends told him he should quit one or the other, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be a chef, not just an assistant his whole life. He wanted to cook in his own restaurant, his own creations. It was something he was great at and something that he loved. He wanted to be the best he could be, so he worked to pay for school and went to school so he could be better at work, get noticed, make a name for himself.

He kicked a rock and looked down. He’d kind of lied to Kiefer in his last letter. He hadn’t just gotten a little bit of a belly over the past five years: he’d gotten really big. He thought that he was bigger than he remembered Kiefer being.

He knew it was happening, that he was getting fat, but he was too busy to care. Then, when his dad got cancer, he didn’t care about it at all anymore. If he was getting fat, oh well. Being fat didn’t matter much in the scheme of things really. And he had to taste things all the time. He was always nibbling something, or drinking coffee with tons of cream and sugar in it to stay awake during the long hours he worked in the restaurant. If he could have drank it black, he would have. But black coffee hurt his stomach, so cream and sugar it was.

Other people in the restaurant snorted cocaine to keep going. Meyer didn’t want to have to resort to that. Coffee with all the fatty cream and all the sugary sweetness was fine. Being fat was fine. He was fat, so what—well he tried thinking that way, but it was hard.

He rubbed his hand over his belly. It was strange, actually. He felt different. He didn’t know what to think of himself anymore. He didn’t think Kiefer would want him. He’d been fit when they’d been lovers.

He liked Kiefer’s body though, he reminded himself as he continued walking. He loved his soft, round curves. He loved everything about Kiefer. That’s why he was his one and only lover. He wouldn’t have anyone else. He’d turned everyone down, though the requests had slowed down a lot since he’d gotten big…

He was two blocks away now. He was going to have to start driving. This was too much walking at this time of night. It probably wasn’t safe, even though Kent City was a small town. He only walked the mile to work to try to keep fit. He didn’t think it was working and when he came home after work, he could barely put one foot in front of the other.

As he approached the house where he rented a room on the top floor, he saw a small orange light on his porch. Someone was sitting there, smoking. He sniffed the air and knew it wasn’t tobacco, either.

He didn’t know anyone who smoked pot, at least not anyone that would visit him or the other people in the house. He stopped a few houses away, watching the person settle down heavily on the porch steps. Meyer felt his heart quicken, but it couldn’t be who he thought it was.

“Kiefer?” He called out anyway.

The figure stood up. “Yes? Meyer?”

Meyer couldn’t believe it. He ran for the porch and grabbed Kiefer, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You’re really here!”

Kiefer smiled a lazy smile. “I am.”

“When did you get here?”

“About eight hours ago. Sorry about the joint. I was bored,” he said. “Let me put it out.”

Meyer stepped back and watched Kiefer put the burning paper out with his thumb and forefinger. The air smelled strange. Meyer had always been reminded of chicken when he smelled people smoking pot. It was a college town, so he’d smelled a lot of it before. Kiefer put the rest of the joint away inside a little box and smiled up at Meyer. He was a little high, Meyer could tell.

“Come in,” Meyer said. They walked up the stairs, Kiefer first. Meyer still couldn’t believe it was him. He was nearly the same as five years ago, just like the last picture he sent. The only difference was that his hair was longer. Maybe he was a little heavier, but Meyer couldn’t really tell in the dark of the stairwell.

There was a small space on the third floor where Meyer had to squeeze past Kiefer to open the door. He had to put his hands on either side of Kiefer’s belly and try to suck in his own gut. Kiefer stopped him as he pushed past and smiled, putting his own hands on Meyer’s chest, then tracing over the unfamiliar curves. He wasn’t as big as Kiefer, but he felt like he was.

Then Kiefer grinned. “I like this,” he said.

“Being stuck in a small room because we’re too fat to get out of each other’s way?”

Kiefer tilted his head. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant. I like your belly. It looks good on you. You could even stand to be a little bigger. When you told me, and I was on the bus, I imagined you were much bigger…” He blinked and smiled a lazy, happy smile.

“Are you serious?”

“You mean, you don’t believe me because I’m high? Believe me. It’s true. Ask me tomorrow.”

Meyer smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Their noses bumped against one another and their teeth actually connected in a weird jolt. Kiefer was the only person Meyer had ever kissed, but this kiss felt like kissing a stranger. Not only did Kiefer smell and taste different, but their bodies were different. In his memories, he was used to his chest pressing against Kiefer first and then molding his body to Kiefer’s like a casting mold. They were body opposites in some ways back then. Now, his belly pressed against Kiefer’s and it felt strange, like someone had put something between them and they strove to meet each other through it anyway.

Kiefer grinned and seemed to like the kiss anyway. Well, he was high, Meyer thought, and squeezed all the way past him to put his key in the door, jiggling and rattling the sticky lock until the tumblers fell into place and he could push the door open.

He rented the entire third floor, but it really wasn’t very big. His bed and the living room were the same room. He glanced at his small desk and saw the angry red of the lights of his digital alarm clock. It was four a.m. He was going to have to cut classes tomorrow. There was no way he could pay attention and he certainly didn’t trust himself around an open flame. He walked over to turn the alarm off.

Kiefer dropped his bag on the floor and stretched out on the small mattress and box spring Meyer had on the floor. He kicked off his shoes using his feet and they fell next to the bed. He wasn’t wearing socks and curled his toes and smiled up at Meyer.

Meyer still couldn’t believe he was here. He came over to the bed and Kiefer scooted over to make room. Meyer lay down on his side, looking down at Kiefer. Kiefer’s golden eyes were only slightly focused in the way that Meyer recognized as being high. He’d seen enough people high to know what it looked like.

It also looked sexy. It made Kiefer seem disheveled in a sexy, rumpled kind of way. Meyer pushed some of the long cinnamon colored hair out of Kiefer’s eyes and touched his face.

Kiefer closed his eyes and smiled. “Mmmm,” he said. “That feels so good. I should have dropped out of school a long time ago.”

“You dropped out?”

He opened his eyes. “Not officially, but yes. I just got on the bus yesterday, or two days ago? On Friday…Whatever. I can’t figure out the time right now. But yeah, I have a better idea than staying in school. Anyway, I should never have waited this long.”

“But you worked so hard to go to that school! It’s Ivy League! You worked in that warehouse place for two years just to make enough money to go there,” he was worried about Kiefer now. He no longer felt sleepy at all.

Kiefer rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He put his arms under his head and said, “Yeah, you’re right, but I think you’re more important to me. I should be here. I should have been here a lot sooner. I just didn’t realize it. I forgot that I could do whatever I wanted. I’m not used to being an adult. Anyway, like I said, I have a better idea.”

Meyer put his hand on Kiefer’s belly. He’d always like the soft roundness of it, the way that it felt under his hands or pressed against his own body. In high school, people who knew they were gay didn’t understand why he’d always wanted Kiefer: they couldn’t stand the idea of loving someone who was fat. But Kiefer had always been beautiful to him. “What’s your idea?”

“You’re going to quit working.”

“That’s your idea?”

Kiefer smiled and took Meyer’s hand, moving it so that it slid under his shirt, making Meyer touch him. Meyer rubbed his hand against Kiefer’s soft fur and Kiefer groaned happily. “Yeah. I can’t believe I waited so long to feel this again. I was an idiot.”

“I can’t stop working.”

“You can. I’m going to work. And I have a crazy amount in my savings, not to mention that I have a stock portfolio that’s doing really well.”

Meyer remembered Kiefer mentioning it in one of his letters and a few times when they’d been able to talk over the phone. “Yeah, but still. I can’t let you do that.”

Kiefer smiled. “I want to do it. I want you to finish your culinary school. I want to help you set up a restaurant. I can help you do it. It’s all about numbers, the whole thing. I like numbers. I can help you.” He reached up to touch Meyer’s face.

“I don’t know what to say, Kiefer. I really don’t.”

“Eh? Say nothing then. Kiss me, please.”

Meyer leaned in and this time, their kiss was less awkward. He met Kiefer’s mouth and pushed his tongue inside. The weird thing was when Kiefer reached up to pull Meyer’s body closer, Meyer felt self-conscious. He was afraid of crushing Kiefer; of squashing him will all his extra weight.

Kiefer seemed to know that something was off, and for a moment, he broke off the kiss and looked into Meyer’s dark brown eyes. He smiled a goofy, lopsided smile that Meyer had never seen him wear before. It was different, too.

Kiefer said, “You don’t have to act like I’m going to break.”

“Uh… I just…”

Kiefer sniggered and reached up, again, this time grabbing Meyer by the white collar of his uniform. He pulled, and felt stronger than he had as a kid. Meyer didn’t resist him and let himself slide down on top of Kiefer, keeping most of his weight on his arms. Meyer watched Kiefer’s eyes roll back a little as he brought his hips up, grinding them into Meyer’s belly.

Meyer was so conflicted! He felt weird, but Kiefer looked so hot and the way he was rubbing against Meyer’s body was driving him crazy. He remembered that Kiefer had a spot on his neck that was very sensitive, and leaned over to kiss him there.

When he did, Kiefer squirmed madly, panting, his whole body shaking. So Meyer nipped him, making him even crazier. Kiefer pushed with his hands, pushing Meyer off of him and rolled over and sat up. He immediately attacked the buttons on Meyer’s uniform. Some of them came right off because he pulled so hard. Meyer felt like he was in a dream, like he was the one that was high. He watched Kiefer tear his uniform apart and knew he’d have to fix it tomorrow. He didn’t care.

Kiefer pulled the shirt off and tugged at the undershirt underneath. Meyer helped him pull it over his head. Then Kiefer just kind of stared at him for a long time—Meyer didn’t know what to think. He was aroused and embarrassed at the same time. Just when Meyer thought he should say something, Kiefer shuddered and pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt off, too. He grabbed Meyer’s hand and put it on his brown, furry stomach. He said, “See? You’re just like me. You like me the way I am, right?”

Meyer smiled. “I do. I always have.”

Kiefer pushed Meyer’s hand back and made him lay it on his own stomach. “See, just like me. I like you just the way you are, too. God, you’re hotter than before, even.”

Meyer sputtered, but Kiefer pounced forward, attacking him with a sloppy kiss and pushing him backwards. This time, Meyer hit his head on the wall.

Kiefer apologized over and over, but soon, his face was again buried in Meyer’s fur, kissing down his chest and over his stomach, rubbing his cheek on Meyer’s round belly. It felt good, but Meyer was so embarrassed, he almost wanted him to stop. He felt Kiefer’s hands inside the elastic of his checkered pants, he felt him pulling them down, past his legs. He felt Kiefer free his erection from his underwear.

He leaned forward and to the side, looking past his own belly, watching Kiefer, who was just looking at him again, smiling a lazy smile. “What are you doing?” Meyer asked.

“Just being very, very, very happy,” Kiefer said. He leaned down and swallowed Meyer’s cock, really swallowing around the erection. He squeezed with his throat; he grabbed Meyer’s hips with his strong hands. His mouth was wet and hot and as tight as anything Meyer remembered about Kiefer. He had a small funny, memory of Kiefer practicing deep-throating on a cucumber. But all thoughts left his head, feeling Kiefer’s tongue slide along his shaft, teasing him.

It was all too much. It was just much too much. He couldn’t take it. He watched Kiefer’s head move up and down for awhile, and then Meyer lay back, just feeling. He came, gripping the sheets, crying out. He was panting and Kiefer crawled up next to him, pressing his round body against Meyer’s. He was licking his lips. Meyer had to catch his breath for a moment and Kiefer grinned, “I haven’t lost my touch, huh?”

“No,” was all Meyer could say. He hadn’t even masturbated in months… so this was so good—even if it had been bad, it would have been good—but it was good, very good.

Kiefer laid his head on Meyer’s shoulder and stared at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled and said, “I’m so high, Meyer. I feel so good. I can’t believe I’m here.” His eyelids fluttered and he began to snore. He’d always snored, Meyer remembered.

He thought about what Kiefer had just said. He was worried about the morning. Kiefer was high. He might not think Meyer was so hot in the morning.

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Pancakes! Kiefer smelled pancakes when he woke up. He yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes. It was bright in the room with the curtains thrown open and windows cracked. A cold little breeze made them flutter in the sun.

Kiefer stretched his arms again , threw on his clothes and walked into the kitchen. Meyer was standing at the stove flipping perfectly circular blueberry pancakes in a large pan. Kiefer smiled and walked up behind him, putting his arms around Meyer’s new, soft belly. Well, it was new to him, anyway. He liked it so much. It was true: he had fantasized about Meyer on the bus. With nothing much to do and stoned out of his mind, he thought about Meyer in all different shapes and sizes. He thought about holding him close, he speculated on how they might make love with all the extra padding. He got so horny thinking about it, that while they drove through Montana and it was just him and an old man sleeping on the bus, he slipped into the bathroom to jerk off thinking about Meyer.

“Good morning,” Meyer said.

“Morning. Where’s your bathroom?”

Meyer pointed to the left, “Over there. The handle’s kind of weird when you flush; you have to jiggle it a lot. You want anything to drink?”

“Yeah. Pot makes my mouth dry. Water and then some coffee. I know you made some,” he said. He kissed the back of Meyer’s neck and found the bathroom.

When he came back, Meyer had made a plate full of pancakes for him. They were steaming and there were real blueberries cooked inside of them. Meyer had real maple syrup, not that crappy synthetic stuff and he had real butter, too. Kiefer saw there was real cream for the coffee.

“Damn, man, you didn’t have to do all this for me!” He dug into the pancakes. “These are awesome.” They were perfect, even without anything on them.

“I like cooking,” Meyer said. “I’m glad to do it for you.”

“Thanks,” Kiefer said, smiling at him. He watched Meyer eat and drink coffee. He still seemed nervous, like last night. At first, Kiefer had just thought he was being paranoid because he was high, but now he could see that he was right. Meyer took small bites, like each bite meant something, like it was important.

“Hey,” Kiefer said, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’re just acting kind of… strange,” Kiefer answered.

“Hm. Well, it is unexpected to see you… I’m glad that you’re here though.... But, I am worried about you dropping out of school.” Meyer wasn’t telling him the whole truth though. Kiefer was sure of it.

Kiefer waved the comment away. “It’s my decision. Don’t worry about it. Does the pot bother you?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said, and Kiefer could tell it was mostly the truth. “But you can overdo it. I mean, a casual habit can turn…well it can turn completely habitual. I guess I worry about that a little. Please be careful, OK?”

“I will. Hey, can I have seconds?”

Meyer smiled. “I knew you’d want more. Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you having any more?”

“No, I’m good. Want more coffee?”

Kiefer nodded. “Please.”

Meyer got up to get the coffee pot and after he poured more coffee for both of them, he sat down and asked, “Do you really think you can help me open a restaurant?”

“Mmm, I do,” Kiefer said around a full mouth. “Not right away, but that gives us time to save up, for you to finish school and everything.”

“You really want to do this?”

“I do,” Kiefer said. “Hey, I want to see your dad, too. He was always awesome to me.”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Meyer said. “We can go this afternoon if you want. I’m cutting classes today.” He smiled, “Anyway, my mom can help me fix the shirt you ruined.”

Kiefer grinned despite himself. It was a good memory. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I had to get you out of clothes and fast!”

“Yeah,” Meyer said.

Kiefer finished up his pancakes, his tummy full. He felt warm and happy. He felt completely satisfied. Except he wanted a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke? A cigarette, I mean.”

Meyer frowned. “You didn’t tell me you smoked.”

“Yeah, it’s another one of my bad habits,” Kiefer said. “They’re in my bag.”

“I dunno. I guess it’s OK. I wish I could remember if the lease said if this was supposed to be a non-smoking apartment. Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Kiefer said, and stood up to find his pack. He left Meyer sitting in the kitchen.

He found his cigarettes at the bottom of the bag. He hadn’t smoked them much on his bus trip. He’d been smoking pot. He’d also popped a few pills, too. He’d scored some oxycodone off a kid in his Calculus 401 class. They were awesome. He found the bottle at the bottom of his bag, too, and took one, dry-swallowing it.

He came back into the kitchen with his cigarettes, tapping the pack against his hand. Meyer was clearing the dishes into the sink. Kiefer lit up and Meyer whisked by with a clean ashtray.

“You don’t smoke but you have an ashtray?”

Meyer said, “It used to be my dad’s. He gave me this one. See, it has a picture from Oktoberfest in Nuremberg. He said that that’s where he met mom. You know my dad has lung cancer.” He stood there for a moment, staring at the ashtray, and then cleared some more dishes from the table.

“When did he find out?” Kiefer asked. “You just started mentioning it to me in your letters.”

Meyer had started washing dishes, but now his black hands stopped moving under the water. He just gripped the edge of the sink. “I didn’t tell you at first because I didn’t want you to worry. He found out about it a year ago.”

Kiefer stabbed out his half-smoked cigarette and walked over to Meyer. He laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “You should have told me. You should have shared it with me right away. I would have come sooner.”

Meyer started washing dishes again and Kiefer went back to wipe down the table and put away the maple syrup and butter. Then Meyer said, “It’s not like you told me everything. You never mentioned that you smoked pot or anything.”

“I didn’t think it was important. It’s recreational,” he said.

“You can get addicted.”

“Psychologically addicted. Pot isn’t physically addictive. Don’t worry about me, Meyer. I’m here to help out. I can help you and you can spend more time visiting your dad before…”

Meyer’s hands grabbed the edge of the sink again. Kiefer could see his muscles bunched up in his back, under his thin cotton shirt. “Don’t say it. He’s going to beat it.”

Kiefer didn’t want to reply, so he went over to Meyer again and wrapped his arms around his belly, stroking gently and pressing his own body against Meyer’s back.

“Don’t touch me there… I’m embarrassed.”

Kiefer made Meyer turn around. “Touch you where?”

Meyer laid a hand on his stomach. “Here. I’m—fat.”

Kiefer laughed. “No? Really? C’mon Meyer, I really like it.”

“How can you? I’m ugly now. I really am.”

Kiefer felt some anger boil up and said, “So do you think I’m ugly?”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Listen, you sound like your mom. She never liked fat people. She didn’t like you being with me—fuck, she didn’t care that you were gay, but she didn’t like that I was fat!” Kiefer said. “You’re totally hot. You’re bigger, sure, but I really like it. I do. And see, I’m not high. I mean it.”

Meyer looked away and said, “I need to use the bathroom. Can you rinse off the rest of the dishes?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kiefer walked him disappear and then finished up the dishes. He dried them off and put them away where he assumed they were supposed to go. Meyer was still in the bathroom. Kiefer thought he was probably crying and didn’t want to bother him. He knew Meyer wouldn’t want to be seen crying.

So he took his cigarettes and walked into the bedroom. There was a bookshelf with mostly cookbooks, but he found a photo album, too. He sat down on the bed with the ashtray on the floor in front of him and lit up. He opened the album. He smiled to see old pictures of the two of them from high school. They looked so happy together. They constantly did everything together. Kiefer wished he hadn’t stayed in Pasadema. He wished that Meyer had asked him to come back to Ohio. He wished that Meyer had begged for him to be near him. They missed each other and had gotten used to missing each other. They forgot that they were grown up and could do whatever they wanted.

As Kiefer flipped through the album, he looked at pictures of Meyer taken while he was cooking at school. Or maybe it was at work. Kiefer couldn’t tell. He didn’t know what a culinary school would be like. Maybe it was just one giant kitchen. He could see the progression of his weight gain through the pictures. It was steady and slow, like it had crept up on him at first. Kiefer found the whole idea of Meyer, who was already tall and broad in the shoulders—basically big—the idea that he was bigger and he could see him getting bigger, well Kiefer found the whole thing sexy. He felt perverted, thinking it, but the thought was there and he couldn’t help it.

He looked over past the kitchen and Meyer still hadn’t come out. Kiefer debated knocking on the door and seeing if he wanted to talk about it, but he decided against it. He wouldn’t want anyone to talk to him if he was crying, either.

So Kiefer flipped back to the front of the album. He found himself staring at a picture of the two of them at the homecoming game of their sophomore year. Meyer was grinning, and Kiefer was close to him, dressed in an old sweatshirt and making the sign of the devil with his fingers.

Their team had won and after the game, Meyer ditched the football team’s after-party and went with Kiefer to their favorite pizza place. He remembered so many little things about that night. There was the dim lighting of the restaurant, the red pleather booths. They’d managed to get a spot that was out of the way and darker than the rest of the tables. They stared into each other’s eyes, not looking away for whole minutes. It felt so right. After they ate, Kiefer moved over to Meyer’s seat and reached down, rubbing his cock under the denim, feeling its hardness against his palm. By the time the check came, they were practically rubbing up against one another. The waitress was so embarrassed! Meyer was embarrassed too, and left a big tip.

They went over Kiefer’s house and down into the basement, saying they were going to play one of Kiefer’s new video games. And they did, for awhile until Kiefer was sure his parents were asleep.

They rubbed and ground against one another, trying to prolong the feeling of anticipation. They jokingly had done “Rock, Paper, Scissors” earlier in order to decide who was topping this time. Kiefer won.

He didn’t waste anymore time once he got Meyer’s clothes off. He remembered how Meyer looked underneath him, the long lines of his body, the muscular belly and chest.

Kiefer sighed. He could see why Meyer was so upset. He had been a lot different back then, at least physically. He wished he could make Meyer see that he was still hot—maybe even more so than before.

Kiefer looked up, hearing Meyer’s footsteps on the wooden floor. He kicked aside Kiefer’s shoes which were still lying on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t look at Kiefer, but Kiefer could see that his eyes were red.

Meyer glanced at the photo album. “That was a good night, huh?”

“Homecoming? Yeah.”

Kiefer was surprised to feel Meyer lean over and pull him into a kiss. They fell backward onto the mattress, both of them suddenly desperate to get naked. They were pushing and fumbling with their clothes, rolling each other over until Meyer was on top. Kiefer realized just how heavy Meyer was now as he leaned on him, nibbling at Kiefer’s ears.

And then he felt Meyer’s fingers push inside of him, it hurt at first. Kiefer had actually had sex with other people since he moved away. It was the sort of thing that just kind of happened—laying around, getting high, being horny. He didn’t love anyone besides Meyer. But it had been a month since anyone had fucked him and he was tight.

Meyer awkwardly pushed Kiefer’s legs back and positioned himself. He pushed inside without any lube, pushing from a strange position where he was trying not to press his belly against Kiefer. It was awkward and wrong. Kiefer felt torn apart, shredded. He dug his claws into Meyer’s back, holding on and then twisted his own hips, pushing back at Meyer until they fit together better. He made himself relax his muscles and while it no longer hurt, it wasn’t great either. Then it started to hurt again, even more than before as Meyer started to thrust even harder, deeper and at the wrong angle. He moved in and out faster and faster. Kiefer almost cried out for him to stop and then he saw his eyes. Meyer wasn’t even paying attention. He seemed lost and haunted. Kiefer was almost ready to tell him to stop, when he felt Meyer climax.

Meyer came quickly, shuddering and then collapsed on top of Kiefer. He was heavy! Kiefer wondered if he felt this way to Meyer. Meyer whispered, “Did you?”

“Huh?”

“Did you come?” Meyer asked in a small voice.

“No.”

“Oh,” he said and slid off, rolling over and pulling one of his blankets over his stomach.

Kiefer crawled over. He wasn’t erect at all. The painful sex had driven any horny feelings out of his mind. He’d be taking a couple more oxycodone pills, for sure!

Meyer turned away as Kiefer touched him. It took Kiefer a moment, but he realized Meyer was crying again. So Kiefer got up and found his pills, dry swallowing two more. He lit another cigarette and sat on the edge of the bed.

Meyer said, “What did you take?”

“Oxycodone,” Kiefer said.

“Prescription?”

“For someone,” he answered.

“I’m sorry, Kiefer. That was the worst sex, ever. That was worse than the first time we tried that.”

Kiefer laughed and turned around, seeing Meyer’s face, wet fur under his eyes, but Meyer was trying to smile.

Kiefer said, “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I guess I sorta came back into your life at a bad time.”

“No, it’s OK,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m a mess. I don’t ever do anything but go to school, work and see my dad, and he’s dying. I need you here. I should have asked you to come a long time ago.”

Kiefer stubbed out his cigarette and lay back, shoulder to shoulder with Meyer. After a moment where they were both very quiet, he pushed the sheet off of Meyer’s belly and laid his head there. “We’ll work on it.”

Meyer stroked Kiefer’s hair and said, “You really think I look OK?”

“Well, you make a great pillow,” Kiefer said and laughed. He started to feel the woozy, wobbly feeling that lots of oxycodone gave him.

Meyer laughed and pushed him and Kiefer rolled away. “So are we still going to see your dad?” Kiefer asked.

“Yeah.”

“Does he still have his fur?”

Meyer frowned. “No. It all came out in funny patches after the chemo.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I. Well, let’s get dressed.”

-----------------------------------

Meyer drove. He felt terrible. He knew he’d hurt Kiefer—he knew he was hurting him while he was doing it and he didn’t stop. At first, he’d pushed inside trying to lose himself, to feel nothing, but he caught Kiefer’s eyes at the end and saw that he was hurt. But Kiefer hadn’t said anything at all. He just let him do it. He let Meyer hurt him and he didn’t try to make him feel bad about it. He wasn’t angry. He just took more pills.

It didn’t make Meyer feel any better. It made him feel worse. Kiefer came down to help him. He just dropped everything, he told Meyer, and left. He only had one change of clothes. He came with practically just the shirt on his back.

But Meyer felt like in some ways he didn’t know Kiefer anymore. His attitude was different. He was taking drugs. Meyer didn’t know what to think. Everything had changed so much and he was having a terrible time dealing with it.

One thing, he knew, though, was that he was going to have to make it up to Kiefer. He decided to take him out that evening after they left his folk’s house. They could go to that pizza place they’d always gone to when they were in high school. Kiefer would like that, he was sure. And later, if Kiefer was in the mood, he’d make sure Kiefer came and the sex would be really, really good.

He glanced at Kiefer. The drive was over an hour long to his parent’s house, and after about five minutes, Kiefer had passed out, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. He’d been holding Meyer’s hand, and didn’t let go even in his sleep.

He guessed Kiefer was telling the truth about still liking Meyer’s body, but Meyer didn’t feel good about it. He felt too big and strange.

He turned into the drive at his parent’s house and turned off the ignition. He could see his sister, Ute’s, car in the driveway, too. She and Kiefer always got along well. Meyer nudged Kiefer. Kiefer stirred a little, shifted over and then just curled against the door. So Meyer got out and opened Kiefer’s door carefully and shook him.

Kiefer’s eyes flew open. “Where are we?”

“At my folk’s.”

“Oh. Sorry I passed out.”

“Are you OK?” Meyer asked him.

“Yeah,” Kiefer said, and undid his seat belt. He slid out of the car, leaning on Meyer a moment.

“Do you still hurt?”

“Nope,” Kiefer said, grinning up at him.

“Are you high?”

Kiefer tilted his head and said, “A little. Let me smoke first, that’ll perk me up. Get me coffee in the house.”

Meyer took a deep breath. “Do you always do this?”

“Huh? What?”

“Take pills? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kiefer lit his cigarette and frowned at Meyer. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I used to be so bored and lonely. It passes the time, you know? Now, I dunno. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take too much oxy. I really just wanted not to be walking funny.”

“I’m so sorry, Kiefer.”

“For what? It’s alright. I’m fine, well, I’m mostly fine. Anyway, I’m not leaving you again, so we have plenty of time to forget about it, huh?”

Meyer smiled and Kiefer smiled back. His eyes looked a little more focused. He hoped Kiefer wouldn’t say anything stupid. His dad was sick. He didn’t need to have Kiefer say anything wrong. He couldn’t believe his boyfriend was a stoner.

Kiefer used to be so hard working. He worked hard and he played hard. His grades were terrific. He graduated seventh in his class, Kiefer told him, even with all the weirdness about transferring schools. He didn’t study a lot, actually. He was, instead, the kind of kid that did the whole page of math problems instead of every other problem. He wrote ten pages when they asked for five. He just worked hard. He played hard too, trying to beat his own scores in video games or solving logic puzzles. He was kind of a nerd at school, unlike Meyer who had just been a dumb jock.

Now, as he walked with his arm around Kiefer’s back to keep him steady, he wondered who Kiefer was. He didn’t know and he wondered how much else Kiefer hadn’t told him.

Meyer knocked once, and then opened the door without waiting for anyone to appear. His mother, a long, lean greyhound came around the corner. She had a dish towel in her hands and her eyes were red. She looked surprised. “Kiefer? Meyer didn’t tell me you were in town.”

“Just got in, Mrs. Schwartz,” Kiefer said. He went up to her and hugged her, which is not what he normally would have done. Kiefer and Meyer’s mother were usually only civil to each other.  

“You’ve been smoking,” she said with a sniff. “Well, come in both of you.” She herded them towards the kitchen and gave Meyer a peck on the cheek.

Meyer pointed Kiefer in the direction of the coffee maker and pulled his mother aside, back into the hallway. “Is everything alright? Do you need me to come home for awhile?”

His mom put down the dishtowel she was still holding. “No, no. You need to finish school.”

“I can finish school later.”

“Your father wants you to finish. Anyway, I was just a little upset. Everyone’s been so nice to us. You know that lesbian couple from across the street brought us a casserole and cookies. The more feminine one, Layla, she said she cooked them and her girlfriend, Coke, said she’d work on my car if I needed it. You know, I think Layla is pregnant— God, I’m jabbering, Meyer. Why don’t you see if Kiefer would want anything and don’t you touch the cookies. You need to cut back—a lot,” she said and pushed him towards the kitchen in her own way. She could do it without even touching a person.

Meyer watched her walk upstairs and heard her call for Ute. He looked around the kitchen and even though coffee had been made and cookies eaten, Kiefer wasn’t there. Meyer went out to the living room where his dad was.

They called it hospice care. There was a hospital bed in the middle of the living room. There was an IV drip and bags to collect urine and machines that beeped softly. The sounds were muffled by the laughter of Kiefer and his dad.

Meyer came over to the bed and his father smiled at him. Most of his fur was gone, leaving him looking wrinkly and saggy. His eyes were still bright though. Meyer was glad to see him smile. He knew he was starting to have a lot of pain. “Come here,” his dad said. “Why didn’t you tell me Kiefer was in town?”

“He just got here yesterday,” Meyer said. He kissed his dad on the head. He hated the mineral smell of sickness. He hated that the chemo hadn’t helped and all it had done was made his dad ugly. He hated all of this.

“Well, it’s nice to see you—to see both of you together again.” He smiled at them and Meyer went over to Kiefer and sat down next to him. Kiefer had a coffee cup in his hand and a second one on the table next to him that he handed to Meyer.

“Thanks,” Meyer said, taking it. His father had known about them even before they came out to him. Meyer knew his dad was alright with it because his dad told him once in confidence that he was bisexual, and knew what it was like to be different. Meyer’s parents kept their secret. They never told anyone else about the two of them, so Kiefer’s parents didn’t know until last year. Meyer and Kiefer’s dads used to be good friends, but finding out that Meyer and Kiefer loved each other was too much for Kiefer’s parents, the Eberhardts.  It caused tension between them: the Eberhardts knew their friend was dying, but they hadn’t come to visit and only phoned once. They were still angry that Meyer’s dad hadn’t told them the truth.

Meyer’s dad said, “So, I think your mom told you that our pretty neighbors came by. Everyone’s been visiting and bringing food. Your mother’s just about lost her mind trying to find room for everything. Wish I had an appetite. Stuff looks good,” his dad said.

“It is good,” Kiefer said.

“Kiefer!” Meyer hissed.

“No, it’s alright son. I’m glad someone’s enjoying it.” He smiled and then, suddenly closed his eyes, tired from talking. This had happened other times when Meyer had visited, but he still wasn’t used to it.

Kiefer shot a panicked look at Meyer. Meyer put his hand over Kiefer’s and squeezed. He whispered into his ear, “He’s just tired. We can wait and see if he wants to talk some more, or you can say hi to Ute.”

“Let’s say hi to Ute. I don’t want to stress your dad out.”

They stood up and Meyer glanced at his dad again. He was breathing evenly, he was glad to see. He followed Kiefer back  to the kitchen where Ute was sipping some coffee from a mug.

She glared at Kiefer, and then grinned. “I should have known. You made the coffee, didn’t you? It’s strong enough to walk on its own,” she said. She put down her mug and came over to hug him and then her brother.

Ute was as tall as Meyer and lean, like their mother. She had long fur like Meyer’s dad had before the chemo and was black, too. Her eyes were green. She leaned against the counter and said, “So you saw dad.”

“Yeah,” Kiefer said. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Kiefer!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me. In your last letter, you said he’d eventually beat the cancer,” Kiefer said in a low voice.

Meyer opened his mouth and shut it. Kiefer was right. He hadn’t told him the whole story. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “He still has a 3 percent chance.”

Ute shook her head sadly. “Well, did you have any cookies?”

“I did,” Kiefer said.

“Mom told me not to,” Meyer replied.

Ute frowned. “Mom is a busybody. Have some. They’re really good. I want to see what our chef thinks of them.”

Meyer smiled and took a cookie from the plate Ute held out to him. It was a sugar cookie with little designs made out of candies decorating the top. He bit into it and chewed. It was good, but Meyer said, “It’s adequate.” He said it with a straight face and Ute punched him in the arm.

“You know, I don’t think I tried one of those. I had the other cookies,” Kiefer said, even though Meyer knew he had. He’d seen him eating some.

“So what have you been up to, Kiefer? How long are you in town?” Ute sat down and Kiefer and Meyer sat across from her. Kiefer found Meyer’s hand and held it. With his other hand, Kiefer drank coffee and stuffed his mouth with cookies.

“Well, I was going to CIT, but I’ve dropped out. I’m going to stay with Meyer forever. Even if he kicks me out, I’ll sit on his porch.” Kiefer grinned at Meyer and it made Meyer feel good that Kiefer wanted him so much: that whatever they’d had in the past and whatever they’d tried to keep going long distance was still alive. “I’m going to work and help Meyer get through school. That way he can visit here more often and maybe go to school full time.”

“Wait, I hadn’t said that I agreed to your plan yet,” Meyer said.

Kiefer grinned. “You didn’t have to. I know you want to.”

“I don’t want you to give up your life.”

“I’m not,” Kiefer said. “I’m taking my life back.”

“Wow,” Ute said. “If you guys weren’t so gay, this would be like a Hallmark moment or something.”

Meyer threw a cookie crumb at her. “Shut up.”

Ute laughed. Meyer was amazed suddenly that they could laugh at all knowing that their dad was in the next room dying. It sobered him and must have shown on his face, because both Kiefer and Ute quieted down and there was an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of Kiefer slowly munching on cookies.

“I’m sorry,” Meyer said.

“It’s alright,” Ute replied. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“I’m not the one who’s sick.”

“It’s still not easy,” she said. She stood up and kissed Kiefer on the cheek. She said to him, “Take care of my brother.” Then she kissed Meyer too. “I have to go. I have some casework to take care of before tomorrow. Call me later, OK?”

Meyer nodded and leaned back. He felt drained. They’d only been there about forty-five minutes and he felt drained already.

His mom called from the living room and said that his dad was awake. Meyer and Kiefer went back in. His dad wanted to watch a movie with all of them and had Kiefer run out to the kitchen to make popcorn.

“I can’t eat it,” his dad said, “but I can smell it.”

It was a funny movie and his dad laughed a lot. Kiefer laughed a lot, too, but Meyer and his mom didn’t laugh. He caught his mom’s eye about half way through the movie. She looked away quickly, tears shining and caught in her eyelashes. Meyer wished he could comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say in the end.

It was getting late when the movie was over and Meyer kissed his dad goodbye. Kiefer shook his hand and his dad said the same thing Ute had said, “Take care of him, Kiefer. I’m glad I got to see you again.”

“Me too,” Kiefer said.

They left the room and Meyer’s mom walked them out. She nodded to Kiefer and hugged Meyer stiffly. Then she went back to the living room.

Outside, it was chilly and both of them could see their breath in white puffs in front of their faces. Kiefer asked if he could drive.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Meyer said. He felt deflated. “You’re not high anymore, are you?”

“Nope.”

Meyer tossed him the keys and Kiefer got in and started the engine. He let it run a few minutes. “It’s cold,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks for driving. I feel like shit.”

“I can tell. It’s no problem. I have to take care of you. Everyone said so,” he said cheerfully.

It made Meyer smile a little. “Well, thank you. I’m sorry though Kiefer, I wanted to take you out tonight, to make up for what happened.”

Kiefer waved his hand. He said, “No worries.” He put the car in reverse finally and started driving.

“You remember the way?”

“Of course. I used to live here, too, you know. Remember when we’d go to Kent City and try to get places to serve us beer and stuff?”

Meyer grinned. “Yeah. I remember. That was pretty funny.”

“Some places did, though. They’d serve you at any rate. No one ever believed me.”

Meyer leaned back. The good memories punched through the bad feelings that he had, but not completely. He leaned over and laid his head on Kiefer’s shoulder. Soon he was asleep.

---------------------------------------

Kiefer helped Meyer out of the car and they walked into his house. Meyer was exhausted. Kiefer didn’t know how to make him feel better. He reasoned there was probably nothing he could do: Meyer’s dad was dying.

Kiefer rattled the keys in the door again. He’d gone first so they wouldn’t have to squeeze past one another in the small space. He went inside and hung up the keys in the kitchen. Meyer went straight for the bed, flopping down and curling up.

“Hey, Kiefer, can you turn my alarm on? I have classes tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Kiefer said walking over to the bed. He pulled the covers up over Meyer and went into the kitchen to make some more coffee.

“You coming to bed?” Meyer called out.

“Later. Can I borrow your car? I want to go to that 24 hour store and buy some clothes. I need something nicer if I’m going to look for a job tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I don’t know where my keys are, though”

“I got ‘em,” Kiefer said. He stuck his head back into the bedroom and smiled.

“Come here,” Meyer said.

Kiefer walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Meyer took his hand and said, “Thank you for coming today. It’s hard to see him like that.”

“Yeah,” Kiefer said. He watched Meyer’s eyes flutter, trying to stay open, and then he was asleep.

Kiefer poured the coffee into a travel mug and went outside to the car. He had to drive around a little because while he’d seen the 24 hour store, he didn’t quite remember where it was. He found it a half hour later.

The parking lot was pretty empty. A tall lamp above the car flickered on and off. Kiefer turned up his collar against the cold and went inside the giant store. He found some nice slacks, a dress shirt and a sweater. He bought a winter coat and a hat. He also bought a few changes of clothes to wear around the house. If he got a job that required nice clothes, he’d buy more of those later. He hated wearing nice clothes. They never felt right.

He put everything into a cart and went over to the automotive section. The guy who makes keys was still there, so Kiefer had him copy every key that he could off Meyer’s keychain. He picked out a keychain for his new keys, a cheesy one with a rude saying.

That was it, pretty much. He picked up a bag of chocolate candy and went to the register line that sold cigarettes and bought a carton of those, too.

Then he drove home, feeling like he’d accomplished something.

He let himself in and put his stuff inside the bedroom against the wall. He put Meyer’s keys on his desk and then sat down on the floor to watch him sleep. He watched him for a long time, while he ate his candy. He was glad to see that Meyer’s face was untroubled in his sleep and his breathing even and quiet.

Finally, Kiefer crawled into bed next to him, putting his arms around Meyer and spooning him. He fell asleep soon after.

The next morning, Meyer was gone. Kiefer hadn’t even heard the alarm. He got up, took off his clothes and went to take a shower. That felt good. He wasn’t feeling as sore as he did yesterday. He liked the soap Meyer had: it smelled like lavender.

He dressed in the slacks and button up shirt he bought at the store. He’d forgotten to get a belt, so he rummaged through Meyer’s stuff to find one. Meyer had a lot of belts. Most were much too small, but he finally found one that fit. After he put it on, he went through Meyer’s clothes again out of curiosity. Kiefer could see that Meyer was keeping a lot of clothes that he obviously didn’t fit into anymore. Kiefer guessed Meyer was hoping to lose weight.

Kiefer knew all about trying to lose weight. He’d been a fat little kid and his mom tried all kinds of things to thin him down. He even went to a “fat camp” on the advice of a pediatrician. It was the worst time he’d ever had in his life. He hated exercising and he loved to eat, so nothing really worked. He eventually just guessed he was meant to be fat and as a kid decided to be OK with it.

Not that it was easy. He even had a teacher at elementary school ask him if he’d swallowed a couple of watermelons. The stuff the teacher said only paled to what the kids said to him. But Kiefer got a thick skin and a sense of humor about it. Meyer hadn’t been fat long enough to think it was funny.

Kiefer tucked in his shirt, buckled the belt and found his shoes. He went into the kitchen, putting the shoes on by stuffing his feet into them and shuffling until they were on. He rummaged around in the fridge and found some sliced up melons and bread. He made toast and ate the melon. He drank some more of Meyer’s coffee: it was a really good gourmet blend.

Then he hit the streets looking for a job. He’d decided to try places with signs in the window and if that failed, he’d buy a paper and check out the want ads.

He walked a long time. And while he wasn’t a fast walker, he did cover a lot of ground. Finally, he did find a shop with a red “help wanted” sign in the window. It was a small bookstore located fairly close the college campus. Kiefer liked the look of the place from the outside, so after he walked in, he took down the sign and carried it up to the desk with him.

“You’ve found your man!” He announced to the little bat sitting at the counter. He was a reddish flying fox with long black hair. He’d been reading and looked up only when Kiefer spoke.

“Huh? Listen, I got a man,” he said, and grinned. “You want a job, huh?”

“You the owner?”

“No, but to be honest, I’m sure you’ll get the job. Can you read?”

“Yes. In German and English.”

“Do arithmetic?”

Kiefer laughed. “I can do calculus.”

“Always dress so nice?”

“No.”

“Good. You’re hired. I’ll let Old Man Krasner know. What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Kiefer Eberhardt. What’s your name?”

“I’m Vince Aldt. You’re German, too, huh?”

“Yeah, still working on my citizenship.”

“Oh wow. So you have a green card?”

“I do.”

Vince smiled. “Good. Well, my folks were German. I’m second generation and no, I can’t speak any at all. I’ll be right back. Krasner’s sleeping in the back.”

Vince disappeared and Kiefer poked around the shelves of books. It was a nice little store, maybe a little heavy on the sci-fi for Kiefer’s tastes, but it had an okay selection of romance novels in the back and they were quality reads from what Kiefer could tell just by glancing at them. Kiefer’s secret favorite genre of books was romance novels. He was glad he’d come in and asked for a job. He thought he’d enjoy working there.

Eventually, he heard a funny sound. It was an intermittent tap. From the backroom, came a very, very old man. He had probably once been a golden yellow leopard, but his fur was gray and only hinted at spots he may have once had. Old Man Krasner had a cane and leaned on it equally as much as he leaned on Vince.

Kiefer walked up to them and the old man moved in a little closer, too, peering hard at Kiefer and said, “Well, he’s crazy to want to work here, so I guess he’ll do. I pay twice as much as minimum wage, though I don’t know why. I think Vince talked me into it. So, have Vince give you the application. You can start tomorrow at nine a.m.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kiefer said.

The man grunted and tapped back into the storeroom. Vince went behind the counter and found an application after rummaging around for a few minutes. Kiefer stood behind him and watched. The file cabinet was really disorganized, he could see. Vince turned around with the application finally and nearly bumped into Kiefer.

“Oops!” Vince looked up. “Damn, you’re tall.”

Kiefer laughed. “I’m not. You’re just short.”

“Yeah? Well you’re fat,” Vince teased.

“Oh yeah? Your mama dresses you funny.”

Vince was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh yeah? Your mom’s so fat the only thing that's attracted to her is gravity.”

Kiefer said back, “Well your mama’s so fat she deep fries her toothpaste.”

Vince broke down, laughing. He said, “I’ve never heard that one.”

Kiefer said, “I’ve got a million of ‘em. But my mama’s not fat.”

Vince said, “Mine’s dead.”

Kiefer stopped and didn’t know what to say. Vince saw the shocked look on his face and said, “That stops ‘em every time.” He had an evil grin.

“Is it true?”

Vince nodded. “Yep.”

“How can you joke about it?”

Vince sat down on the little stool behind the counter. He shrugged and looked up at Kiefer. “It’s been a few years,” he said. “Both of my parents died in a car accident. You just kind of learn to live with it. It never goes away missing them, but it becomes part of what’s normal for you. You learn to ignore it.”

“How can you ignore it?”

Vince shrugged again. “It’s like smelling something. At first, you notice the smell, but the longer you smell it…well you can’t smell it anymore, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s true. So I guess I should fill this out.”

“You can,” Vince said.

Kiefer started on the paperwork. Vince leaned over, watching what he was writing. “Do you go to school here?” he asked Kiefer.

“No. I dropped out of CIT.”

“Really? How come?”

Kiefer looked up. Vince had a pleasant face. He was wearing a t-shirt that said, ‘My ninja beat up your pirate.’ Kiefer said, “I dropped out so I could come here and be with my boyfriend, Meyer.”

“Meyer… Meyer Schwartz?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“He’s a black chow, right?”

Kiefer nodded. Vince said, “Well, he comes in here sometimes to buy books for school. We have the cheapest textbooks around and a lot of used ones, too. He works at that frou-frou restaurant, Uzambique.”

“Yeah, that’s my man,” Kiefer said. He pulled up a chair, one that was actually not too small and sat down. “His dad is dying.”

“Oh. What’s he have?”

“Cancer. That’s a big reason I came down here. I mean, I’d gotten used to having a long-distance relationship. But the last letter he sent me just kind of made me realize that I needed to come back and be with him. I didn’t want him to go through everything alone,” Kiefer said.

Vince nodded. “He’s lucky to have you. I hate to say this, but in a way, he’s lucky. I mean, my parents were fine. They went out to see a play and they were hit by a drunk driver. I was home, studying. I didn’t want to go, you know, because I wanted to work on school stuff. So they left and one moment, they were alive and the next, I was getting a phone call. I was 16 and I had to go down and identify their bodies. I mean, Meyer’s lucky because he gets to say goodbye to his dad.”

Kiefer said, “I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s still not really any good. In the end, they’re gone and all you have is memories.”

Kiefer worked on the application and when he finished, handed it to Vince. He asked Vince, “Are you always so morbid?”

“No,” Vince said, “I can do dreary, dark and miserable, too.”

Kiefer smiled. “Well, I’ll be in tomorrow morning then.”

“Cool school,” Vince said. “Welcome to our humble shop.”

Kiefer left after that and went back to Meyer’s. The door was still locked, so Kiefer let himself in. He kicked off his shoes and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He still had some pot left, so he sat down on Meyer’s bed and smoked until he was completely high.

He found another photo album and flipped through it, barely able to concentrate. The photos merged in his mind making a kaleidoscope of images of him and Meyer as kids. They were laughing and hugging, playing games, camping out in Kiefer’s backyard. They climbed trees, snuggled up in the corner of the yard together. They played fort as boys. They played video games. Meyer liked to bake cookies with his mom and she started to worry that he wasn’t turning out normal… Kiefer’s mind swirled around. He tended to think in a jumble when he was stoned, if he thought about anything at all.

They’d walk through school together, going to the same classes. Meyer didn’t get picked on as much as Kiefer: Meyer was a football player until he was kicked off. Even after he was kicked off, people remembered that he was good and that he was strong and didn’t bother him. Kiefer listened to people whisper about them. He found himself imagining the two of them back in school. Kiefer would help Meyer with his homework. He offered to do it for him, but Meyer wouldn’t let him. Meyer was honest; Kiefer really wasn’t about a lot of things. He had a sliding scale of morality and cheating on grades didn’t fall under the “bad” category.

Getting stoned never fell under the “bad” category either. Neither did cheating on Meyer. He hadn’t really meant for it to happen, but once it did, he didn’t feel bad about it. He believed that whatever didn’t hurt another person was OK. As long as Meyer never found out, there was no problem: it wasn’t “bad.”

But he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he ever did hurt Meyer. He really loved him. Meyer had been a part of his life since he was seven. He was almost twenty-two now: it had been a long time—almost fifteen years. They’d been apart five, but that still made 10 years of time where they’d been inseparable.

His mind went round and round. When he was able to focus again, he sat up and dialed Meyer’s cell phone. It was late afternoon. He guessed he was probably at work now. Meyer answered the phone and once he realized it was Kiefer seemed happy. He told Kiefer to come down to the restaurant this evening around ten. “I’ll cook dinner for you and we can catch the late movie at the CineFlick.”

“Awesome. It’s a date, then.”

When he hung up, he called long distance to his dorm room. He’d pay Meyer back later.

“Hey Jeff,” he said when his roommate answered.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“I thought you wanted me gone.”

“I do. But you have all this stuff here. Where are you?” Jeff said. He was really pissed off and Meyer had to struggle to keep from laughing at him.

“I’m in Kent City. Look, this is the address I’m staying at.” He rattled off Meyer’s address. “Box up my video games and my clothes and books. Send ‘em to me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because, I’m going to make it worth your while. Can you send them?”

Jeff paused, then said, “Well, yeah. I guess it’ll cost about fifty bucks to ship the stuff. Books are kind of heavy and you have a lot.”

“Yeah. I’ll send you fifty and a hundred extra for your trouble,” Kiefer said.

“Make it a hundred fifty extra and you have a deal.”

Kiefer sighed. “One hundred-twenty-five and that’s my final offer.”

“Done,” Jeff said.

“Cool,” said Kiefer. “I’ll send you half right away and the rest I’ll send when I get the stuff.”

Jeff sounded more cheerful now that he was getting paid. “So, you really dropped out, huh?”

“Yep. I’m going to call my academic advisor after I get off the phone with you.”

“OK. Well, I’ll get your crap out of here today. I can’t stand looking at all your gay stuff.”

They hung up and Kiefer called CIT. He got his academic advisor on the phone after being transferred around several times. She was angry that he was dropping out and she was even angrier when he told her why he was dropping out. “Look, Mr. Eberhardt,” (Kiefer hated that she called him Mr. Eberhardt.) “I know your grades were slipping, but you’re one of the smartest students in your class. I know that we have more to offer you if you give us a chance.”

“I can’t, Katy,” Kiefer knew she hated being called Katy, so he did it on purpose. “Listen, I’ve finally decided what to do with my life and that’s all there is to it.”

“So you’re going to drop out and help your boyfriend open a restaurant? Kiefer, he’s a guy! There’s no way you have any kind of obligation to him or anything.”

“Katy, I should hang up on you right now. Listen. I’m only giving this to you once,” and he gave her Meyer’s address. “That’s where I’m staying if you all need to send me anything. You got it?”

“The address? Yes.”

“Goodbye, Katy,” he said, and hung up.

Kiefer stomped around Meyer’s apartment for a little while, and finally ended up in the kitchen where he made himself a snack and some more coffee. He fished the one book he’d brought out of his bag and started reading “Mad Pirate Love.” It was a delicious book. He loved romance novels.

Around nine, he got back into the “nice” clothes he’d bought and put the sweater on over the button-up shirt. He looked quite preppy, except for his long hair. He really did have “stoner” hair. He grabbed his coat and keys and then started the walk to Uzambique.

The restaurant was very swanky. It had an art deco theme and was full of real cut flowers like calla lilies and white roses. Meyer was sitting in the middle of the mostly empty restaurant. He smiled at Kiefer and stood up to kiss him.

Kiefer smiled back. It was a nice kiss. Meyer said, “Sit down and help yourself to the appetizer. I’m going to get the main course.”

“You cooked everything?”

“Yeah. I knew tonight would be slow, so I asked if I could make something special for you. It’s my favorite thing to make—not my favorite food, but it’s a challenge.”

“Dude, well what is it?”

“A surprise,” Meyer said cheerfully. He looked really good, Kiefer thought, and watched him walk out to the kitchen. He looked happy and less worn-out.

The appetizer was some kind of fried ravioli filled with squash or something. It was really good, even though Kiefer had thought he didn’t like squash. Meyer came back out with a plate of something unusual. He didn’t bring anything for himself, though, Kiefer noticed. Meyer put the plate down in front of Kiefer and Kiefer had no idea what he was looking at. It looked pretty, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Basically,” Meyer said, “They’re a kind of salmon stack, but I think that is a stupid name.”

“Aren’t you having any?”

Meyer shook his head. “No, I ate earlier.” But Kiefer could tell it wasn’t quite the truth. “Try it. I never make anything bad.”

Kiefer smiled. He picked up his fork and took a bite. Meyer sat down and watched him. “Good, huh?”

“It’s amazing!” Kiefer couldn’t believe how good it was. He could see that living with Meyer was definitely going to be awesome.

Meyer watched him eat for awhile and then excused himself a moment and came back with some wine and a dessert. “It’s a fruit tart,” Meyer said. “I don’t suppose all these things really go together, but they’re kind all my favorite things to make.” He opened the wine and poured some out for Kiefer and just a tiny bit for himself.

Kiefer ate everything and wished there was more. He drank quite a lot of the wine, too. As he ate, between bites, he described his new job to Meyer.

“That’s terrific! I do know that shop. I go there all the time for books and stuff,” Meyer said. “Vince seems like a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he does.” Kiefer almost mentioned the death-stuff that they’d talked about, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood. Meyer seemed really happy and he didn’t want to ruin that. “So what movie is showing?”

“Tom Jones.”

Kiefer smirked. “So is it like, a documentary?” He asked, even though he knew exactly what the film was.

“No, it’s not about the singer,” Meyer started, but then he saw Kiefer snickering. “You’ve seen it?”

“Uh, uh. I read the book though.”

“Oh. I didn’t know it was based on a book.”

Kiefer waved his hand in the air. He was getting tipsy. “Yeah, most good movies are based on books,” he said. “Well, let’s get going. You drive.”

“I was planning on driving,” he said.

They got to the movies a tiny bit late and the movie had already been playing for five minutes. They hadn’t missed much though. Kiefer enjoyed the movie and especially loved the scene where Tom and Mrs. Wilkins eat fruit and roast in the most messy, sexy way possible. He nudged Meyer to see what he was thinking, but he was dumbstruck, eyes fixed to the screen. Whether he was horrified, or loved it, Kiefer couldn’t tell.

As they left, Meyer said, “I wanted to take you to that park we used to go to, but it’s too far away really. But there’s this other park that has a bench by the river and you can see the stars.”

“Sounds good,” Kiefer said.

They drove there, parked and walked around a bit, holding hands, talking of this and that. It felt good. When they reached the bench, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. They kissed, stroked, rubbed up against each other. Meyer still seemed self-conscious about his own belly, but Kiefer couldn’t leave it alone. He loved touching Meyer everywhere. It was cold, but Kiefer managed to get his hands under Meyer’s shirt to touch his fur, stroke along the contours of his belly. Meyer shifted uncomfortably, and Kiefer tried something else. He pushed Meyer back gently and told him to pull down his pants.

“Kiefer! You don’t really want to…”

“I do,” Kiefer whispered. He moved Meyer over and went around behind him. He reached around Meyer’s belly and undid his pants. Then he grasped Meyer’s erection, stroking it, fondling it. It was long and hard. It was his. With his other hand, he undid his own belt and then his pants, letting them fall down around his ankles. He had to pause for a moment, because he’d found some Vaseline in Meyer’s house, a small container, and had brought it with him. It was in his pocket.  He let go of Meyer and crouched down to get it. He pulled it out, awkwardly, and put the cold stuff on his own shaft.

The cold was shocking, but Kiefer went back to stroking Meyer, and now with his other hand, he rubbed Meyer’s round, protruding belly.

“Don’t, Kiefer. Really. I feel weird about it.”

“Does it really feel bad?”

“No…” Meyer said.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Meyer didn’t say anything and Kiefer didn’t stop. Soon, he placed the tip of his cock against Meyer’s entrance and he gently pushed inside. The slipperiness of the Vaseline smoothed the way for him and Meyer rocked backwards, pushing himself onto Kiefer slowly, inch by inch.

Kiefer had actually learned a few things from the times he’d cheated on Meyer. Other men had taught him new things, and he did these things, twisting his hips, pushing in at the right angle. He knew now, that everything that he and Meyer had done together had been just the beginning. He knew there was so much more to feel, to know about each other. He knew that because he’d cheated.

Meyer moaned and leaned on the bench, gripping it tightly and digging in his claws. Kiefer teased him, drawing the feelings out, making them last and last. Meyer was arching his back now, and Kiefer had to shift to get a better angle. This drove Meyer even crazier. Kiefer bit the back of Meyer’s neck, holding onto him like a wild animal. He held Meyer’s cock and pushed himself inside deeper. With his free hand, he pushed his stomach up a little and then was able to go all the way to the hilt of his cock. He ground his hips, felt Meyer shuddering, and then crying out. His cock pumped hot semen into Kiefer’s hands and Kiefer grinned, loving this. He let himself go then, climaxing and feeling higher than ever. It was the best high, really. He only wished it could last forever.

Meyer slumped onto the bench, leaning on it, pants down. He turned his head to look at Kiefer. “That was amazing,” he said. Meyer pulled up his pants and Kiefer did, too, buckling the belt, but leaving his shirt un-tucked. They sat down and Kiefer threw his arm around Meyer. Meyer said, “I wish I could have done that for you, the last time. I was selfish.”

“You were hurting,” Kiefer said.

“You’re too nice, Kiefer.”

“No I’m not. I love you. Love can never be too nice.”

“It shouldn’t hurt, either. I really did hurt you.”

Kiefer frowned. “It’s not important. I love you, Meyer.”

“I love you, too,” Meyer said.

--------------------------

The two of them settled into a routine after that week. Meyer cut down on his work hours since he didn’t want to quit completely. Kiefer worked just about every day, except for Mondays and Tuesdays. Their schedules actually tended to be in conflict with each other, but they made sure that they spent as much time together as possible and that Meyer had time to visit his father.

Meyer kept getting weird phone calls from a guy named Jeff, who Kiefer told him was his ex roommate at CIT. Kiefer said he’d take care of it, and wasn’t too worried about it. He spent his free time getting high, reading and playing video games when he was alone. When Meyer was around, Kiefer only wanted to be with him: loving him, holding him. He could tell that Meyer was having a hard time, even though Meyer tried not to let on that he was consumed with worry.

It eventually happened: Meyer’s father died three months after Kiefer came into town. Kiefer was at home after working all day at the bookstore. He was playing a video game, and was so into it, he almost didn’t answer the phone. After seven rings, he finally picked up and he heard Mrs. Schwartz’s voice over the line. She asked for Meyer, and Kiefer could tell by her tone that Meyer’s dad had passed away. Kiefer told her that Meyer was at Uzambique and to try him on his cell.

A few minutes later, the phone rang again and this time it was Meyer. He wasn’t crying. He just sounded empty. “I’m coming home, Kiefer. My dad died.”

“OK. I’m here,” Kiefer said.

“Thanks,” said Meyer and hung up.

When Meyer got in, he hugged Kiefer tightly, but briefly, and then he let go and said he had to shower. He shed his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out, he asked Kiefer if he was ready to go.

“Yeah, I guess. Should I change?”

“It’s not a wake or anything. We’re just going to my house to see my mom. There’ll be a service at church probably in a few days, and a wake the day before. I guess. I dunno. I’ve never really done this before.”

“Me neither,” Kiefer said. “Want me to drive?”

“Can you? That would be great,” Meyer said.

“Toss me your keys. Let’s get going.”

In the car, Meyer was quiet for a long time. He finally said, “I really believed he’d live. Even when I knew he had no chance, I thought he would live. I can’t imagine him not being alive. He’s always been alive.”

Kiefer didn’t know what to say.

“I wish I’d said more stuff to him.”

“You said the important things,” Kiefer said. “I know you did. Here, toss me a cigarette. Your mom won’t let me smoke in the house.”

“My dad died because he smoked,” Meyer said.

“I know.”

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke.”

“Toss me a cigarette anyway. You can get me the patch or something after this is all over if you want.”

Meyer frowned. “You wouldn’t stop anyway. You have an addictive personality,” he handed the cigarette to him. Kiefer pushed in the car’s lighter.

“Yeah, I guess I do. You’re addicted to me,” he said, smiling. Meyer had to smile back, but the smile was quickly lost.

They drove in silence. Kiefer smoked a lot, just to have something to do. He was nervous, not sure what to say, not sure how to handle this. As bad as he felt, he was sure Meyer felt ten times worse, at least. How did a person handle death? Vince said it left you feeling like you were missing something and that missing piece is always there, forever. You just get used to it being missing.

It was depressing. It made Kiefer seriously consider some of the stuff that Vince said: that there was no God. But Kiefer couldn’t believe that. He had to believe that someday Meyer would see his dad again. How could anyone go on and not believe that?

------------------------------------------

Meyer was present for everything: the family gathering, the wake, the funeral, the burial. He was there, but he could hardly remember any of it afterwards. He remembered bits and pieces, like the bright sun on the white casket his mother had picked out. She’d buried his father even though he’d wanted to donate his body to science. She couldn’t stand the thought of people cutting up her husband’s body, even if it might help cancer research. It was just too much for her to bear, so she picked out the most expensive, most beautiful casket.

She had roses for everyone at the burial and they all threw the white roses on the casket as it was lowered into the ground. It was cold and the grass was dying, but the cemetery used bright green Astroturf around his father’s open grave, like it would be too disturbing for everyone to see the actual dirt.

Kiefer held his hand a lot when it seemed safe to do so, and he was there all the time. He didn’t say much, but Meyer was glad he didn’t. There was nothing to say. There were no words anyone could say that would make it better. In fact, he knew it would never be better.

There was food everywhere, but he didn’t eat. He really wasn’t hungry, and he was tired of all his relatives and the family friends commenting on his weight. He decided to diet there and then in the funeral home.

Kiefer munched his way through every family get-together and even at the wake. Meyer knew, too, that a lot of the time Kiefer wanted to smoke and couldn’t; whether it was pot or cigarettes, they were too often in non-smoking areas.

It was a long, difficult week and Meyer was grateful he retained only a few memories.

Probably the strangest memory he had was looking into the open casket at the Viewing. His father’s lips were pressed together and he looked so severe and unlike the person he had been. It was like looking at a wax dummy of his father. It seemed so unreal.

The sense of unreality he felt then began to creep up on him at nights. He would wake up in a panic, scared because he finally realized that one day, he would also die. He’d known, like everyone did, that he would die, but he’d never really acknowledged it or truly believed it. Now it terrified him. He felt like the edges of the world were closing up on him and wondered if he was having some kind of contact high from Kiefer somehow. It felt so strange and weird and was terrifying.

He was only eating one meal a day and had cut back on his coffee. He started putting in that awful low fat fake cream and no-calorie sucralose. He started feeling exhausted: he couldn’t stand the coffee without real cream and sugar. But he figured he was just depressed. It was normal to feel depressed when someone you love dies.

Kiefer kept asking about him, nagging and worrying. But Meyer didn’t let him know exactly how he was feeling, or what he was thinking. Kiefer would try to talk him out of his crash diet. He would try to reassure him that some day he’d see his dad again and there was no reason to be scared of dying. Meyer didn’t want to hear any of it. He was freaking out quietly, in his own head.

------------------------------------

“Vince, I’m worried about my boyfriend,” Kiefer said, walking into the bookstore one afternoon about a month after Mr. Schwartz had died.

“What, no ‘Hello, Vince?’ ‘How is your day, Vince?’ You just walk in and dump your worries on me?” He groused, eyes bright.

Kiefer grabbed the really big chair that he’d found at the thrift store and brought in just to feel comfortable. It was wood and it was solid. He said, “OK. I think Meyer’s anorexic.”

Vince started laughing and just about fell off his chair.

“Fuck you, Vince!” Kiefer stood up and started sorting through the trade-ins that still had to be categorized.

Vince walked up to him and put his hand on Kiefer’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t. I just think that you’re being insensitive. My feelings don’t get hurt.”

“Right. Well, anyway, what on earth makes you think he’s anorexic? He’s almost as big as you, Kiefer.”

Kiefer sighed and felt his body just kind of sag. “Well, I saw this thing on the news. I didn’t mean to be watching the news. I kind of hate it, you know? But I was really stoned and couldn’t be bothered to change the channel, right? Anyway, there was a story about anorexia. So many things reminded me of what’s going on with Meyer.”

“Like what? Are you sure he’s not just depressed? It’s hasn’t been too long since his dad died.”

“Well…Yeah, but that’s part of it, you know? The depression makes people want to take control of their lives. And Meyer’s not felt good about gaining weight, so he’s decided to take control of that.”

Vince tipped back in his chair. “So, what’s the problem? He’s like everyone else trying to lose a few pounds.”

“Yeah, but not like how he’s doing it. Vince, I never, ever see him eat anymore. But he still cooks stuff for me. I asked at the restaurant and they said he doesn’t eat there, either. He’s exhausted all the time.” Kiefer wiped his hand over his face. “Vince, he doesn’t want to have sex anymore.”

“What can you really do about it?” Vince asked. “I mean you can’t control what another person does.”

Kiefer didn’t know either. “I guess… I wish that I could show him that he’d beautiful to me just the way he is. I actually liked him bigger. It reminded me of him when he used to play football—all big in that padding and stuff. I really liked it. Part of him has to be OK with fat. I mean, I’m hella fat, and he’s always liked me. I’ve always been fat,” Kiefer said. “If he’s OK with me, why can’t he be OK with himself?”

Vince shrugged. “I dunno. The mind is a weird thing. Sounds like he needs some kind of intervention or something.”

“Vince, seriously, I think he’d want me to have an intervention.”

“Why?”

“He says I’ve changed a lot: you know, the drugs… and other stuff, too. He sometimes looks at me like he doesn’t know me anymore.” Kiefer thought about how sometimes he would catch Meyer looking at him, not in the way a lover looks at someone else, but rather like he was a stray animal that had wandered into the house. Other times, he seemed happy with him, but more and more, the happiness was disappearing. Kiefer couldn’t tell if Meyer was just unhappy with him, or was just unhappy in general: depressed.

“Huh,” Vince said. “Well, I guess you didn’t do drugs before, when you two were together in high school.”

Kiefer shook his head. “No. I really didn’t.”

“Why do you do it now?”

“I don’t think it’s wrong. I don’t drive high; I don’t operate heavy machinery high. I just do it at home. I like it. It doesn’t hurt anyone. It can’t be wrong.”

“Huh,” Vince said again. “Well, it’s your brain you’re frying. I guess I could see that Meyer might not like it. But it sounds like he needs help too, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I thought that me being here would be enough help. It’s not.”

“Kiefer, you ever think that maybe it would be worse if you weren’t here?”

Kiefer looked up at Vince. He was so small, perched on the top of his favorite stool, his hands between his legs, his wings jutting out to both sides. His hair was long and fell into his eyes all the time. He was smarter than he let on most of the time. He knew things, Kiefer thought. “Yeah, I never thought about it like that. Thanks.”

“Yeah. So you still closing up tonight?”

“Sure. Hot date with Ogun, huh?”

Vince smiled. “Yeah. Finals are over and now we can spend time together.”

Kiefer smiled back. “Have fun tonight.”

“I will. Well, I’ve gotta get my things together. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Kiefer watched Vince busy himself and put his unread books into a backpack. He waved goodbye as he headed out the door.

Kiefer thought about what to do for Meyer. An intervention. Didn’t that usually entail a room full of friends who explained how much they were hurt by the person’s behavior?  He didn’t want to do that to Meyer. But he wanted to do something: to step in and change what was wrong. How could he do that?

Kiefer grappled with the problem most of the day and was still thinking about it when he closed the shop and helped Old Man Krasner upstairs to his apartment above the shop. He made the old guy some tea with brandy in it the way he liked and then said goodnight. Vince was talking about buying the store from Krasner. Kiefer said he’d help him figure out how to do it when he was ready. Krasner was too old, too tired to run the store himself much longer. In reality, Vince did most of the work these days.

When Kiefer got home, Meyer was there. He was sitting in the kitchen with an open letter in his black hands and he didn’t turn around when Kiefer came in. He only pushed the letter forward to the middle of the table. Kiefer was struck by how hollow Meyer’s eyes were as he came around the table. He saw that his clothes were looser, his fur less shiny.

“Read it,” Meyer said.

Kiefer sat down. “What’s wrong?”

“Read it,” Meyer said again.

Kiefer felt a ball of heavy fear inside his stomach. He reached for the letter and saw it was addressed to Meyer. “This isn’t for me,” Kiefer said. He was stalling. He didn’t want to read the letter.

Meyer fixed Kiefer with his dull eyes. He had been crying and there were even tear drops on the letter itself, blurring some of the careful letters. Kiefer knew the handwriting: it was Jeff’s.

Suddenly, with a panic and without having to read the letter, he knew what this was about. He’d forgotten to send the second half of Jeff’s payment and now Jeff had exacted his revenge on Kiefer.

The letter said,

To Kiefer’s Fag Lover,

I want you to know that Kiefer is a big, fat slut. He’s fucked everyone on the second floor, who are all fags. The month before he dropped out like the loser he is, he had a big, fat homo come over and suck his cock. I walked in on it and now I will never get the image out of my head. You’re lover is a slut. He’s a big cheating slut.

Jeff

PS: Tell Kiefer to keep the rest of the money he owes me. This letter will certainly pay him back for him cheating me out of what he should have paid me.

Kiefer looked up again. Meyer said, “Is it true?”

“Of course not,” Kiefer lied, feeling that at least it was a partial truth: he hadn’t slept with anyone on the second floor of the dorm.

“Is some of it true?” Meyer asked. “Some of it must be true for this guy to have written me.”

Kiefer didn’t want to say anything and Meyer took his silence as assent: that he had done it, which he had. He’d cheated on Meyer a lot, but it didn’t mean anything. It was just a physical thing, something fun to pass the time. He’d always wanted to be with Meyer again, always.

“You need to get out, now,” Meyer said. “I can’t look at you.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask me that? Kiefer! How could you?” Meyer didn’t yell: he just spoke in an even, calm voice. Kiefer wished he’d yell.

“I didn’t mean to—not at first,” Kiefer said, and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. But his mouth kept going, “Then, it was just something to do when I was bored.”

“Have you cheated on me here? What about with that guy you always talk about, Vince?”

“No! Vince has a boyfriend.”

“Like that would mean anything to you,” Meyer spat.

“No, I haven’t cheated on you. I would never really cheat.”

“But you did!”

“I didn’t! It was just a physical thing. I didn’t love them.”

“That doesn’t make it OK!” For the first time Meyer raised his voice. His dark eyes had life in them again, but it was fiery and terrible to look at.

Kiefer said, “I learned things from cheating and you’ve enjoyed what I’ve learned.” His mouth was still working by itself—speaking before he had a chance to censor himself.

“I can’t believe you, Kiefer. You’ve changed so much.”

“I have not!”

“You have! You are a liar, a druggie and a slut. You haven’t got a decent bone left in your body.” Meyer didn’t seem angry anymore. He just seemed disappointed.

“There is nothing wrong with change, Meyer. You just can’t handle it. I’ve kept you in my heart always, where it really matters. Everything else was just…like a handshake, only better. I have changed. But I’m OK with it. I like who I am. That’s what it’s all about. You don’t like yourself and that’s why you can’t handle me.” Kiefer was shaking as he spoke those words. He was so upset and afraid, but he had to say them.

Meyer sat still for a moment, and for a brief time, Kiefer hoped that his words got through: that there was more to life than just black and white. Kiefer lived in a world of grays.

Kiefer was let down, though, when Meyer spoke again. All he said was “Get out.”

Kiefer felt defeated. So he grabbed his bag, stuffed some of his stuff into it and left. He wondered when Meyer would let him back. He was scared that it might be never.

He moped around the outside of the house for awhile, and then just started walking. He got high in the park and found a bench to sleep on at the bus station. It was cold, but he was too high to care. Before he fell asleep, he decided he couldn’t leave things as they were and a plan began to form in his brain. He hoped he remembered it later: sometimes he had great ideas when he was high that he couldn’t access again the next day. He sat up and drew out a small notebook and sketched his idea, and then, satisfied, he lay down on the hard bench, drawing his legs up and let oblivion take him.

The next morning, he woke up, mouth dry and looked at his plan. It made sense. He walked around a bit to warm up and went over to a coffee shop for some coffee. There was a newspaper on the table he sat down at and Kiefer idly flipped to the business section. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

---------------------------------------

Meyer didn’t know where Kiefer had gone, and he told himself that he didn’t care. But that wasn’t true: he’d grown used to having Kiefer around. He was cheerful and upbeat. He could talk about anything easily and didn’t get upset about anything at all. All he’d done since he’d come back into his life was work hard-- all for Meyer’s benefit.

But Meyer also felt betrayed. He’d been faithful to Kiefer. He’d always felt that it was important to be faithful, that it meant something.

He went to school the next morning and just went through the paces. His cake fell in the oven and he actually burned eggs. It was embarrassing. But he couldn’t concentrate: everything was falling apart. He couldn’t take it. He was going to come apart himself.

He skipped lunch and dinner as usual, but did have a small snack of celery, which he’d read had negative calories. At work, he nearly burned the busboy and did succeed in burning himself. They sent him home early.

He had walked, because that was part of his new weight-loss routine. He could tell he was losing weight, but he didn’t feel any better about it. In fact, all he felt was tired and cranky. He was sorry he’d yelled at Kiefer. He was sorry he’d called him a slut. He was sorry he’d upbraided him for using drugs, when he’d told Kiefer he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Kiefer had cheated on him, suddenly. He just wanted him to be there when he opened the door.

But Kiefer wasn’t there. The apartment was quiet without him around. He was always doing something noisy: playing video games, singing to himself or watching late night TV. He even read noisily: flipping the pages hard and tapping his fingers while he read.

Meyer sunk onto his bed with all his clothes still on. He looked up at the ceiling and was ashamed of himself for throwing Kiefer out. He began to fall asleep, but just before he was completely out; he heard keys rattling in the kitchen door. Fully awake now, Meyer sat up and ran into the kitchen.

Kiefer was there, holding several brown grocery bags close to his body. His golden eyes were wide and he said, “I didn’t think you’d be home. I wanted to surprise you.”

Meyer took the bags from Kiefer and put them on the floor. Then he threw his arms around his lover. “You did surprise me. What are you doing with all this stuff?”

“You’ll see,” Kiefer said. “Sit down, please.”

Meyer grabbed some of the bags and took them into the kitchen with Kiefer. He put them on the table and saw that they were full of groceries. “What’s all this for?”

Kiefer smiled. “You’ll see. Sit.”

Meyer sat, and Kiefer came around behind him and firmly took his hands and quickly tied them to the back of the chair. Meyer was so surprised he didn’t struggle. “What?”

“Shh,” Kiefer said. He pulled up a chair directly in front of Meyer’s and said, “So you aren’t angry any more?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think you’d stay angry,” Kiefer said, and rummaged around inside of one of the bags. He brought out a package of lox and cheese. He grabbed a bagel, too, and got up to toast it. “You know…because you love me,” he added, smugly.

“Yeah,” said Meyer, but he was smiling. He couldn’t believe Kiefer was here again. He was so relieved, but he joked with him anyway, “You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“I can be,” Kiefer said, and grinned. He finished toasting the bagel and spread some white cheese and pink lox on the top. Then he sat down and just started to eat.

“What are you doing?” Meyer asked.

“I’m eating. Want some?” He took large bites; his cheeks puffed out and made exaggerated motions of rubbing his belly and saying how good it was. Kiefer knew how much Meyer liked lox. “C’mon. You know you want some.”

Meyer shook his head, but then his stomach growled. “OK, just a little.”

Kiefer leaned forward and held the bagel out to Meyer, letting him bite into it. Meyer couldn’t believe the taste: the saltiness and firmness of the fish and the fatty creaminess of the cheese. It was so good. He looked up at Kiefer who was grinning. “I knew you would have some. How about some more?”

“Yes, please.”

Again, Kiefer leaned forward and let Meyer take a bite out of the bagel. This time, though, he kissed his neck after Meyer took a bite. When he leaned back again, Kiefer watched him chew, and he looked pleased. “More?”

“No—do you know how much fat is in those things? And don’t get me started on the carbs in bagels!”

But Kiefer laughed. “That’s why I picked it, aside from you loving it. In fact, everything in these bags I specifically chose because they’re hella fatty. I’m going to fatten you up. I like you fat and you’re going to stay that way.”

Meyer shook his head. “I don’t want to be fat.”

“You do. You looked great. You’re just afraid of change.”

Meyer knew part of that was true. He was afraid of change. “Change is bad,” Meyer said. “It only brings pain. I just wish I could freeze everything: make the world stop.”

“But if you did, nothing good would ever happen either,” Kiefer said. “Here, eat this,” he said, holding up a piece of cheesecake. It was from Yentu’s Bakery and Meyer knew it was the best cheesecake in town.

Kiefer didn’t wait for him to answer, and brought the cheesecake close to Meyer’s nose, where the full smell of it washed over him and he realized just how starved he’d been. He took a bite, and another, and soon, he was licking Kiefer’s fingers clean.

His stomach, which had shrunk quite a lot in the past few months, already felt full. Meyer also felt a little guilty: what would his mother think? She’d been pleased he was losing weight. He looked up at Kiefer who was eating a slice of cheesecake himself. He was huge, round, gorgeous. Did Kiefer see him the same way? He’d said so. Why didn’t he believe it? Why did he let his mother tell him what he should want?

“Untie me,” Meyer said.

“I don’t know. I have you at my mercy. I kind of like it that way.” He leered at Meyer and provocatively licked his own fingers clean, slowly and watching Meyer’s every look, every glance.

“I’m sorry I threw you out,” Meyer said.

“I know,” Kiefer replied, and produced some brie and crackers. “This should be warm enough to eat now, right?”

“Let me taste it,” Meyer answered.

Kiefer obliged, cutting a small piece off and putting it into Meyer’s mouth. It was buttery and creamy. Brie was like eating thick butter. Before Kiefer could move away, Meyer closed his lips over his fingers and sucked gently, letting his tongue move over Kiefer’s fingerpads. It made Kiefer suck in his breath and move forward, pulling his fingers out and putting his muzzle close to Meyer’s. They kissed, and suddenly it felt right. Kiefer’s hands roved over Meyer’s body, and rubbed Meyer’s belly. Meyer didn’t break away from the kiss as he once would have. He just let the feelings of Kiefer’s touch overwhelm him. It felt so good to be loved by him.

Meyer realized in that moment that he didn’t care who else had kissed Kiefer. He didn’t care. Kiefer was his: completely. No one else would want to do this to him: to feed him, caress him, need to transform him. He knew Kiefer was his because he wanted to do this. Kiefer always wanted to spend time, to talk, to play. Meyer didn’t fear that Kiefer would cheat on him again. He could feel his love and it felt real.

He let Kiefer feed him brie on crackers, pecan pie, ice cream, slices of avocados. It was a mishmash of foods chosen by Kiefer only for their calories and fat. None of it really went together, but that was part of the fun of the game. Sometimes, Kiefer didn’t give him anything and just made him watch as he ate, slowly and seductively. Kiefer started to undress a little too, bit by bit. First, just his sweater came off, revealing his large stomach under a stretched-tight black t-shirt. Finally, he pulled that off, too, and his furry chest and belly were exposed. With a full belly, his stomach was rounder and bigger. Meyer wanted to touch it, but Kiefer didn’t let him. He was teasing, rubbing his own hands over himself.

Together, they ate nearly everything of what Kiefer had brought home. Meyer didn’t think he could take another bite, but towards the end, Kiefer coaxed him into eating a chocolate mousse from another restaurant, feeding him with a spoon, rubbing Meyer’s belly as he fed him. It was incredibly sexy. Meyer was so full; he didn’t think he’d be able to move. His belt pinched underneath his belly, which even though he’d lost weight, still hung over his pants.

There was one last bag. Kiefer said, “Can you handle it?”

“I don’t think so, really. I’m stuffed.”

Kiefer smiled. “I know,” he said. He reached over and rubbed Meyer’s belly, making him moan with pleasure. He felt like he must look like he was pregnant; and looking down, he saw that his button-down uniform shirt was stretched tight across his stomach, buttons straining with every breath. All of this gluttony was definitely going to show later on. He must have put on ten pounds, he thought. He thought, too, that if Kiefer liked it, then he was OK with it. He loved to eat. He loved to cook. He loved food. There was nothing for it.

“Should I untie you?”

“Aren’t you going to show me what’s in the bag?”

Kiefer shrugged. “Just donuts. I guess we could have them for breakfast. I bought about four dozen.”

“God, you’re serious about fattening me up, aren’t you?”

“Hell, yeah. I loved your belly and you may not have realized how sexy you were, but you were beyond sexy. You don’t need to starve yourself any more, Meyer. You need to let me take care of you. I can, you know.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know everything,” Kiefer said. He came around behind Meyer and began to untie him. “I hit it big, Meyer. I hit it really, really big.”

“In the stock market?” Meyer asked, twisting around. It was almost hard to do!

“Yeah,” Kiefer said, grinning his lazy smile. “Meyer, we’re millionaires.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. My stocks went through the roof, almost all of them. I checked my account. It was out of control, it was so high. I sold off half my stocks and now I have two million dollars, liquid.”

“No way,” Meyer whispered.

“It’s true,” Kiefer said. “We’re going to build that restaurant.”

“Yeah. And we can buy a house.”

“And never be apart again,” Kiefer finished. He held out his hand to Meyer and led him to the bedroom. They undressed each other. Meyer only had to remove Kiefer’s pants, while Kiefer had to unbutton Meyer’s shirt, as well as wrestle with the too-tight belt. It was a relief to be out of those clothes. It was bliss to be naked with Kiefer.

They sank onto the bed together and held each other.

“Kiefer?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Uh uh. Thank you. You give my life purpose. Without you, I’m just another stoner.”

“Yeah, another stoner with 2 million.”

“Yeah. Like that kind of stoner. Where do you want to live?” Kiefer asked.

“I don’t care. I just don’t want to be without you again, ever.”

Kiefer smiled, and idly rubbed Meyer’s full, round belly. “You won’t be. You’re always in my heart, Meyer.”

“You too, Kiefer,” Meyer said. After everything that had happened, and for how full and big he felt, nothing felt bigger than his heart.

Meyer didn’t think it would have been possible to feel horny with how full he was, but he was completely horny. The way Kiefer touched his round belly was sexy; it felt good. Looking over at Kiefer, who was always big, especially now, after gorging himself, Meyer wanted to be smothered by his body, climb inside of it, and then have Kiefer inside of him.

Kiefer must have read some of his expressions, more likely, though, he could probably see that Meyer was hard. Kiefer raised an eyebrow and blew some of the hair out of his eyes. Slowly, he rolled over and put both hands on Meyer’s belly.

“I don’t know how you can move,” Meyer said. “You ate more than I did.”

“I have years of practice of eating myself silly, remember? Anyway, I have a lot of motivation,” Kiefer said, grinning lopsidedly.

He leaned down and buried his face in the crook of Meyer’s neck, nuzzling him. He leaned forward and kissed Meyer, his hands roving all over his body. Meyer reached up and touched his lover, too, running his hands over Kiefer’s brown chest and sides.

Kiefer smiled and then moved down Kiefer’s body, nuzzling his chest, his belly and then licked across Meyer’s erection. His tongue was hot and wet. But he didn’t stop there. He gently sucked Meyer’s balls into his mouth, rolling them with his tongue. Meyer was moaning and whenever he was able to lift his head, he saw Kiefer’s eyes looking back at him. Kiefer went lower, then, his tongue probing inside of Meyer’s entrance.

“You want me?” Kiefer asked.

“God, yes.”

“Not a god, but, thanks anyway,” Kiefer said. He reached for some lube that was near the mattress and slathered it on. Meyer propped himself up to watch: he liked seeing Kiefer touch himself. He liked watching his big hands handle his equally big cock. Kiefer’s was bigger than his, and Meyer was sure, probably bigger than most guys’. It was long, straight and slightly pinkish. Kiefer’s soft brown hair shaded into it, so that whenever Kiefer was all the way inside of him, it tickled a little.

Meyer felt the head of Kiefer’s cock press against his entrance, pushing just ever so slightly. The only thing Meyer hated about being this full was that he couldn’t bend himself forward enough to really see what was happening. He vowed that in their new house, there would be mirrors in the bedroom: lots of them.

Kiefer pushed inside, a hard, sudden jab that almost hurt. He was more gentle on the way out, then pushed deeply inside again. Meyer was moaning, gripping the sheets. Kiefer had both of his legs pushed up slightly and his thighs were pressing against his belly. Again, the sharp jab, only this time, Kiefer passed over Meyer’s sweet spot, making him cry out louder than before.

Now, every time Kiefer went in and out, he passed along the sweet spot. It was too good. It was really too good. Could it be too much? Was it possible to have too much of a good thing?

It turned out that it wasn’t possible, because it just kept getting better. He felt so good, he could barely see. Kiefer’s belly pressed against Meyer’s erection so that his cock was buried in his soft fur. As Kiefer fucked him, Meyer’s erection was rubbed with his soft, warm fur. It was like heaven.

“Kiefer—I… Hell, I can’t…” He couldn’t make words come out into full sentences. Kiefer grinned at him for a moment before losing himself again in the feelings. His own eyes were hazy and full, like when he was high. It made Meyer feel good to know that it was him that was making Kiefer high.

Kiefer came first and Meyer soon after.

Kiefer curled his body up next to Meyer and his eyes were big and happy. Meyer said, “I can’t believe we did all that after all we ate. God, that was good.”

“You have to have desert, right?” Kiefer said, grinning. “Glad it was good.”

“For you, too, right?”

“Yeah. It was perfect,” Kiefer said.

---------------------------------------------------

Meyer didn’t quit working. He still thought that it was good experience to work at Uzambique. He did cut back on his hours some more, and increased his time at school.

He made more time for Kiefer, which was easy for two reasons: he loved being with Kiefer and Kiefer had quit working since he was now a millionaire. Recently, especially because it was the heart of winter, Kiefer spent most of his time in the apartment looking through home listings, playing video games, smoking and reading. Meyer joined him and enjoyed his new life, finally. He wasn’t afraid of gaining weight. He wasn’t afraid of losing Kiefer to someone else, or that Kiefer would cheat. He could see him as he was: constant in his heart, and that was good enough for Meyer. And he wasn’t afraid of dying: he was too happy being alive.

Meyer did start to gain weight. It was winter, and the ground was covered in snow. The two of them got out less often than they used to, and every Sunday night, they’d eat a huge meal, feeding each other, and then, if they were up to it, making love. Meyer had to go on a shopping spree with Kiefer because he really did get too fat to fit into nearly all of his clothes. He had to get a new uniform for work, too.

Kiefer absolutely loved Meyer’s growing body. It turned him on, and while Meyer had always been sexy to him, he was even more so now. He loved the round curves of Meyer’s black belly, the soft folds of love handles along his sides. He loved to snuggle against his lover and feel his belly pressing against his own. Making love became a challenge: their bodies fit together differently, but it was fun. They loved it.

One weekend in spring, when it finally got warm, Meyer and Kiefer went house hunting. They looked at a ton of houses! It was funny to watch Kiefer swagger around the realtor, telling her that they planned to buy in cash, and to see her various expressions of unbelief. Meyer couldn’t blame her: Kiefer was wearing ripped jeans and an old concert t-shirt. His hair was shaggy and, as always, Kiefer looked fully the part of a stoner.

After viewing nearly what seemed like a hundred houses, they finally found a house that was gorgeous and perfect. It had a huge kitchen: big enough that it had a large island in the middle. The dining room was in a nook surrounded by large glass windows. The basement could be converted into a game room, which Kiefer already had ideas about. Everything about the place looked both stylish and cozy. Kiefer announced they’d take it and put a down payment in cash of four thousand dollars into the hands of the realtor.

The realtor nearly fainted, but soon after was quite happy to help the two of them.

A few weeks later, they had a house-warming party. Meyer invited his mother and sister. Kiefer invited Vince, Ogun and Old Man Krasner.

Meyer’s mother was shocked when she saw Meyer again. They hadn’t gotten together since Christmas, and Meyer had gained quite a bit of weight since then. “Meyer!” she said, “What happened! Your diet was going so well!” Ute sniggered behind her mother and then pushed forward to hug her brother.

“Ah!” Ute said, “Mom, he just feels so cuddly.”

Mrs. Schwartz glared at Meyer. “If you’re not careful, you’ll lose your rich boyfriend,” she said. “Just because he’s fat, doesn’t mean he’ll like that you are.”

Meyer laughed, patting his belly. “Who do you think did this me?”

For a moment, his mother stared at him, and then finally said, “Well, I am not going to be on one of those daytime talk shows when they have to cut a wall out of your house to get you out.”

Meyer laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom.”

Ute laughed. “It suits you fine. You remind me a little of grandpa from those old photos, you know?”

Meyer smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

His mother said, “Your grandpa was a big man, and your father would have been, too, if he didn’t watch what he ate.”

“Huh,” Meyer said. “Well, come inside. I cooked everything and Kiefer decorated. Make yourself at home. Kiefer’s downstairs showing his game room off to his friends.”

Meyer led the way into the kitchen where Old Man Krasner was sleeping at the dining room table. His mother accidentally woke him when she sat down and they actually ended up having a good conversation.

Ute went downstairs to see the game room. Kiefer, Vince and Ogun were playing a 3-way game of some sort in front of the largest flat screen TV she had ever seen. Kiefer looked up and grinned. “Want to play?”

“Sure,” said Ute.

Everyone had a great time that day. The food was good, naturally. Ogun wasn’t grouchy and Vince was happy to spend time with everyone. Mrs. Schwartz and Mr. Krasner, who had lived a few years in Germany, got along well and Ute was just glad to see her brother and Kiefer look so happy together.

In the evening, after Vince, Ogun and Krasner left, it was just Mrs. Schwartz and Ute standing on the back porch with Meyer and Kiefer. They were drinking beer and the air was cool and wet, hinting at spring rain. Standing in the flickering candlelight, Meyer shared his ideas for his future restaurant.

“All this change!” Mrs. Schwartz said. “Everything happens so fast. It seems like yesterday you were still in high school”

“Yeah, it kind of does,” Meyer said.

“So, when’s the grand opening?” Ute asked.

 “I really want to open up sometime in the next year or so.”

“I wish your father could have lived to see that,” Mrs. Schwartz said.

“Yeah,” said Ute. “Me too. He would have loved it.”

Kiefer said, “Your dad will be there. He’s in your heart—he’s in all our hearts. Your dad was an awesome guy. I believe that if someone’s in your heart, they’re always with you.”

“Yeah, Kiefer’s right,” Ute said. “Damn, I miss him, though.”

Mrs. Schwartz turned away to wipe her eyes, then said, “So who’s going to run the business for you, Meyer? Math was never your strong suit.”

“Me,” said Kiefer. He looked at Meyer and said, “Leave running the business to me. You just create your art.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” asked Meyer. Meyer put his arms around Kiefer and pulled him close.

Kiefer smiled and kissed him on the nose. “You loved me. That will never change, I hope.”

Meyer pulled back and studied Kiefer’s round face, his golden eyes, and his long shaggy hair. He smiled and said, “No, it won’t. It’s one thing that won’t change.”

THE END