Heartstring Teaser - Jan 23

Now

"Wanna talk it out?"

I raise my gaze from the drink in front of me to meet Levi's friendly expression. The bartender and photographer can sometimes be almost too insightful for his own good. It's as if his two jobs give him some special powers to look into people's eyes and figure them all out.

"Nothing to talk about," I say.

He grabs a cloth and starts wiping the bar in front of me.

"You sure about that?"

"Do you get special bartender classes on how to get customers to bleed their hearts onto the bar so you have a reason to keep wiping?"

"Yeah, they're just after the class on how to stop yourself from punching people by throwing the towel over your shoulder and then crossing your arms. Facial Expressions is a whole module on itself and counts as double credit."

I run my hand up my face and through my hair. "I'm sorry, man. I'm not great company right now."

"It's okay. I'm just saying, if you want to talk I can listen."

If only it was as easy as that. I've become so used to keeping my life to myself that I wouldn't even know where to start if I was to open up about anything.

Would I start with Did you know when I'm not running the soup kitchen for the homeless and poor of Stillwater I am a successful songwriter? Or maybe I miss my dead husband so much that sometimes I can't breathe? Not to mention the playground shit that has me reeling every time I think about it. Which is why my fucked-up brain likes to think about it a lot.

My friends worked so hard to save the playground from being turned into a parking lot, and we would have done it on our own. I don't know how none other than Mikael Nilsson, the man who was hell-bent on controlling my life years ago, knows where I live. Or why he cares about the playground.

Maybe buying it and giving it to me in trust was his way to show he can still control me. To remind me of my place in the world. To take a dagger to my stomach followed by a nice twist of the wrist and a final push in.

I kept my end of the contract and in twenty-five years I never broke a single clause.

Well, maybe one…almost…

The fact I can't understand why he's done it is messing with my head.

I take a sip of my beer and my silence must have bored Levi because he moves on to another side of the bar to speak to someone else.

My phone flashes with another message from Seymour.

Seymour: I'll send out a search party if you don't come home.

Tyler: You said you had a surprise for me. I hate surprises.

Seymour: Oh boo, don't sulk. It's a good surprise.

Tyler: What part of I hate surprises don't you get?

Seymour: Everyone loves surprises. You just haven't had the best ones yet.

It's been a week since Seymour descended onto my live and has been trying to inject happiness and cheerfulness like he's the fucking anti-grinch.

Part of me wants to give in and let him do it. Soak up his light and enjoy the time he's here. But I know at some point he'll go back home and I'll be on my own again but worse because I'll miss his company. I can't get used to not being alone again.

"Ty, you're here."

I should have known that coming to The Academy on quiet weekday evening I was bound to bump into someone I know.

Milo sits on the vacant stool next to me and Ellis sits on his other side.

"Hey guys. Date night?" I ask, trying to sound a little more normal to my friends than I did to poor Levi. I'll need to apologize to him at some point.

Milo smiles wide. "Yeah. Sara is staying the night with Florrie so it's just us."

Ellis looks at Milo like he hung the fucking moon. He leans over to shake my hand and then rests it on Milo's thigh when he sits back.

That knife? It twists a little more every time I see them so happy together.

Not that I'm not happy for them. If there's someone who deserves to be loved and adored that's Milo. He's had a difficult life and has handled everything, including raising his niece as his own daughter, with grace I haven't seen in people that are older and have more resources. But they have what I once thought I would and now have no chance of having.

Each other. A family.

"And what brings you to The Academy on a school night?" Ellis asks.

I raise a brow. He's the teacher, after all, if anyone has to pay attention to school nights it's him.

"You know what I mean," he adds.

"Just grabbing a drink. Didn't feel like sitting at home."

Milo narrows his brows. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"Don't know, you don't seem…yourself."

I snort. "Well, I can't be anyone else." No matter how much I sometimes wish I was.

"Tyler, you've been a good friend to us. I hope you know we're here for you, right?"

Ellis's words cut through me, reminding me I have built relationships in this town and people genuinely want to help a friend even when there's no personal gain.

"Yeah, I know. I'm…just preoccupied with the change of weather. We're due for some heavy rain followed by a drop in temperature," I say, hoping they take my word for it. It's not entirely untrue.

"Yeah, we were talking about it at school today. The teaching staff are gathering some blankets and essential goods to donate to the students in need," Ellis says.

"Really?" Milo asks. "That's amazing, baby. I'm sure we have some spares we can give." He turns to me. "Now that we live together we have two of a lot of stuff. I mean, Ellis's stuff is so much nicer than mine, but a blanket's a blanket, right?"

"Absolutely. Ellis, let me know if you need any help."

He smiles. "Actually, I was going to ask you if you need help at the soup kitchen. There's an initiative between the schools in Stillwater to educate the kids about socio-economic diversity and we're encouraging the kids to volunteer to help the less privileged. My elementary school kids are too young but at the high school kids are looking for things to do."

"Maybe they could help out some of the older people in town with their gardens. Clean them up so they can enjoy them without doing the work. Or maybe deliver food from the soup kitchen to those who can't get out to get it," Milo adds.

I watch as they exchange ideas back and forth and can't help get drawn into their positive spirit. The clusterfuck of my life is forgotten for a moment as I join the idea exchange. It's not until Levi comes over to ask if they're having a meal and want a table for dinner that I remember I should get home to Seymour.

Before I do I order two portions of the special Academy macaroni cheese, which I know Seymour is going to love because it has bacon and cheese. His two main food staples.

That should somewhat go towards my forgiveness. Maybe I could take him out this weekend for a drive out of town and show him I'm not a misery guts all the time.

Milo and Ellis go to their table when it becomes free leaving me to wait for the food. I grab my phone and drop Seymour a text.

Tyler: I'll be home soon. Have dinner.

Seymour: Does it have cheese and bacon?

Tyler: Don't know, I guess it's a surprise.

Seymour: You wouldn't break my heart like that…

Seymour: Would you?

I chuckle to myself. For a forty-year-old man, Seymour can be such an adorable puppy. Porter always loved surprising his brother with random gifts or acts of kindness, and I loved watching them together.

As an only child growing up in the system, I was lucky when my dad decided to foster me when I was ten. I never had any foster siblings so being around Porter and Seymour always felt like such a privilege.

Seymour must miss his brother so much.

I really need to stop being a dick.

My car isn't parked far so I jump in and get home in ten minutes. As soon as I open the door I hear barking.

"Stan. No!"

A black Labrador comes to a sliding halt in front of me holding a sock in his mouth, followed by Seymour, who's holding the matching sock.

I stare at the dog and then at Seymour. They both drop the sock they're holding but only one of them looks sorry for whatever is it they've done, and that's the dog.

Seymour gives me a tight smile. "Surprise?"

"Why is there a dog in my hallway?" I ask.

"He was in the laundry room with me but he kept stealing your socks."

"That's not what I asked."

"Is that dinner?" Seymour asks, pointing to the bag in my hand.

"It was but you're not getting it until you learn the concept of a good surprise. Why the fuck is there a dog in my house?"

I walk around them to the kitchen. The sound of nails on the wooden floor follows me as I take two plates from the cupboard and serve the macaroni cheese.

"If I ignore you, you're not really there, are you?"

He barks his reply. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before turning around, nearly tripping on the dog.

"Christ, Dog. Get out of my way."

He barks again, staring at me expectantly.

"This dinner isn't for you."

He barks twice and lowers his head, bumping his nose against my leg.

"Stop being cute. I hope Seymour told you he's going to take you home after dinner."

"Of course. Who do you take me for?" Seymour says from the kitchen door.

I relax a little. For a moment I thought he was going to say he somehow found a stray dog somewhere and decided to rescue it.

The thought is so stupid I almost laugh out loud.

"This is it," Seymour says. "He's home."

"I'm sorry, repeat that again."

Seymour comes over and gives the dog a scratch behind his ears before looking at the plates.

"Oh, my holy pasta lord. Macaroni cheese with bacon is life. I hope you don't mind me taking the bigger portion, or having seconds." He goes for the plate but I get to it before he does.

"Hey. That's my surprise."

"Explain my surprise and maybe I'll let you eat your dinner instead of throwing it at you."

"Fine." He crouches and rubs the dog's neck. The dog ignores him like he's not even there. His eyes are still trained on me. "This is Sir Stanley von Stinkles the Fifth."

A laugh bubbles out of me and the dog growls.

"Hey, don't come at me for laughing at your name. What did you do to deserve it?"

He whines and then lays at my feet.

"I'm hungry, let's have this conversation with dinner. And the explanation better be damned good if you don't want me to kick your ass back to California tonight."

The dog whines again.

"I was talking to Seymour."

Christ. What the hell is going on? Where are the days when Ellis's sister used to set me up with her gay friends? Those days seemed a lot more normal than this.

Seymour grabs his plate and a glass of water and follows me to the table.

The dog sits on top of my feet again. When I move them he finds his way back, making himself comfortable.

I don't even taste the macaroni as I eat it. I just wait for Seymour to finish inhaling his so he can explain what's going on.

"Okay," he says. "Hear me out. Stan- that's his name for short- he doesn't respond to it but it's easier than saying Sir Stanley von Stinkles the Fifth. Stan was a working dog at a farm in Chester Falls. He was shot accidentally and sustained some injuries. Unfortunately, after the accident his owner was unable to look after him so he took Stan to the animal sanctuary."

So many questions roll through my head.

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I volunteer at the animal sanctuary."

"You've been here a week and you've already found a job?"

"It's not a job job. I just volunteer there. Doctor Micah Sawyer is awesome with the animals and you should see his husband." He rolls his eyes, doing a chef's kiss.

"Yes, yes, I've heard of them. It still doesn't explain what Stan is doing here."

At my mentioning his name, Stan lifts his head to stare at me. I drop him a small piece of bacon. He has the most beautiful dark-brown eyes.

"Wait," I interrupt Seymour before he answers my question, "if you're volunteering at the shelter how long are you thinking of staying?"

Seymour looks at me like he's been slapped.

"Sorry. I…I didn't mean it that way. You know you can stay here as long as you want, even if you seem hell bend on destroying my otherwise peaceful living."

"You mean boring," he says.

"I mean peaceful."

"Yeah sure, if by peaceful you mean eating mostly ready meals on the days you don't bring food from the soup kitchen like you're homeless, and watching reruns of home decorating shows. That kind of peaceful."

Fine, it's boring. But it works for me.

I throw him a fake angry look and he laughs.

"Anyway, Stan needs a home and I figured he'd be good for you."

"Seymour, I can't have a dog. I'm at the soup kitchen most days and these dogs need a lot of exercise."

"Look at him. He already adores you and you can take him to the soup kitchen. I bet he'd be really popular with people."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "This isn't how life works, Seymour. I can't just get a dog."

"Sure you can, and fuck whoever made the rules. You can have whatever you want."

I look down at the dog staring back at me. Seymour's endless source of positivity and energy is something I've always loved in him. Porter was a lot more like me. He used to tell me that we needed Seymour in our lives to stop us from aging too early.

"You said he has some health issues," I say.

Seymour stands up, taking both our plates to the sink.

"What? Nah. He's as fit as a fiddle. He has a minor condition but nothing serious."

Before demand more details about this condition Stan gets up from my feet and sits facing me. I scratch his neck. He seems to like it.

It's a little weird that he doesn't take his eyes off me, like he's afraid to misplace me if he turns away.

I help Seymour tidy up while Stan follows me around.

Seymour already got a bowl for Stan's food and water so we set those in the kitchen for him. Once again Stan doesn't take his eyes off me even while he eats. When I try to go to the living room he stops eating and follows me so I have to come back to the kitchen with him or he won't eat.

"Seymour, what's wrong with the dog?" I shout to him in the living room.

"Nothing. He's perfectly imperfect. Just like you and me."

Well, if that's not ominous.