COMMON GROUND "The Toilet Seat" - Part 8

Max was in Miller’s bed. They were spooning. Max had his arms around Miller as if they’d fallen asleep post coital and slept like lovers through the night.

Nicholas’s eyes got wide as he slammed the door and tried to contain his surprise.
The slam of the door woke Miller, but he had yet to really open his eyes and stir.

“Why are you yelling?” responded Miller. The hangover prevention had not worked for him.

“I’m not yelling. I’m whispering loudly. I can’t yell because your mother is downstairs and I wouldn’t want her to hear me ask you why Max is in your bed and why Max is holding you like the you were last night’s trick?”

Miller slowly realized there was an arm on top of him and a body behind him. Even more slowly he turned to see that Max was the body.

“Max!” he loudly whispered as he threw Max’s arm off of him then put his hand to his pounding head.

Max jerked awake.

“What? What happened?” Max said as he sat up on his elbow and took in the situation. Nicholas was standing beside the bed with his arms crossed and Miller was staring at him, trying to keep his eyes open and his pounding head attached to his body. Max looked down at his own body and saw the close proximity it held to Miller’s. Then he realized he was in Miller’s room.

“You better not have put your beer goggles on last night,” said Nicholas to Max. “Miller, your mom is downstairs.”

“What?” said Miller alternately confused and taken aback. “What is she doing here?”

“Shrubs,” he half giggled half blurted. “She wants new shrubs and wants you to go to the nursery with her.”

“Damn it! Sometimes I hate that they live so close.”

“Just get up and put on your robe. Maybe you should brush your teeth. My breath was so bad this morning I wanted to look for the cat that had obviously shit in my mouth during the night.”

The bed started to shake and Miller turned to see that Max was lying there laughing at Nicholas’s comment.

Miller smiled as he got up. He stood too quickly. He felt slightly dizzy as the blood rushed to his head. Nicholas steadied him and handed him his robe.

“Go to the bathroom first, then go to your mom,” he said to Miller. Then he looked at Max, “You stay here in the bedroom and don’t make a sound. I established with Maggie that we thought you might have gone out for a run or something. It’s a good thing you waited to take your clothes off in Miller’s room” Back to Miller he said, “I’ll join you downstairs for moral support in a minute.”

Miller made his way to the bathroom and avoided his reflection as he passed the mirror. He went directly to the toilet. He looked at it and saw that there were yellow droplets on the seat. Nicholas he thought to himself. He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped up the spots. He then sat down to urinate. When he was done he knew it was time to face the morning. He looked like he’d been run over by the car he thought had knocked Nicholas out of his shoes the night before. He splashed some cold water on his face and ran his wet fingers through his hair. He was fighting a wave of nausea by taking deep, calculated, calming breaths. He quickly rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash. He didn’t want to take the time to brush his teeth. He thought he might gag and honestly just wanted to get the impromptu visit from his mother over and send her on her way.

He walked out of the bathroom and Maggie saw him when he appeared at the top of the stairs. She had folded the sheets and blanket and placed them in a neat pile on the end of the sofa.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she called to Miller as he descended the stairs. “I swear I don’t know how you boys get anything accomplished by sleeping the morning away.”

“We’re not morning people, Mom. We get things done in the afternoon.” He walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to get some new shrubbery today. I was thinking Boxwood’s. You’re so good at picking out stuff like that – flowers, dinnerware, the curtains in my bedroom – I was hoping you’d go with me today.” The optimistic smile on her face made him regret declining her request.

“You should have called, Mom,” responded Miller. “I have plans today.”
“I did call, honey, but you didn’t answer.”

“Did you leave a message?”

“No. I just decided to come on over,” said Maggie. “I thought you might still be asleep.”

“Well, you were right about that,” he said as he started walking her to the door. “How about this; I’ll come by in a few days and take a look at what you bought.” He looked at her with all the excitement he could muster. “Sound good? I trust you’ll be able to pick out the Boxwood’s you like.”

“Okay, honey,” said Maggie in her cheerful, good-natured way. She stopped as she was about the exit the townhouse and turned around. “Miller, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Too much tequila last night, Mom,” he responded with a grimace.

“You know I don’t like it when you drink,”

“I know, Mom, but you asked and I am an adult standing in my own home.”

“You’re right,” she chuckled. “I shouldn’t ask the question if I don’t want the answer.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll call you later. Maybe I’ll even text you a picture of the Boxwood’s from the store.”

“Okay, Mom. Have a good day.” Miller shut the door and headed straight to the downstairs bathroom.

He thought he might be sick. He wasn’t sure what was in his stomach to throw up, but he sat on the floor of the downstairs bathroom and put his head on the cold toilet. When the wave of nausea hit him he tried to lift up the seat before expelling. It was stuck. He was frustrated but he was starting to heave. Nothing came out. It was the dreaded dry heaves. He continued the muscle spasm induced movement for the next five minutes then it stopped. He just wanted to lie there on the floor, but Nicholas was knocking.

“Miller? Are you okay?” asked Nicholas.

“I’m okay,” said Miller through the door as he started to get up from the floor. “It’s just the dry heaves.” He opened the door. Nicholas presented him with a bottle of water.

“Just sit down on the sofa and drink this. We’ll get some French fries in a bit. I know how that always helps your hangover.”

“You’re right, but at this moment, I think even French fries would make me vomit.”

“Well, after you finish the water, we’ll see how you feel.”

Max had gotten up and was making his way downstairs.

“I hope you brushed your teeth,” said Nicholas as Max got to the bottom. “We can all peel paint or singe eyebrows with our breath this morning.”

“I tested that while I was in the bathroom upstairs,” said Max. “It kinda made me gag.”

Nicholas laughed. “I gagged too, right in front of Maggie. It was a high point,” he said flatly, almost monotonous.

“Hey, Buttercup. How you feelin’?” asked Max.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m the one with the hangover. I took the aspirin and I drank my entire bottle of water.”

“I told him we’ll get fries in a little bit and see if we can’t cure his hangover with some grease.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Max.

Without opening his eyes or moving too much Miller asked, “Has anyone been in the downstairs bathroom this morning?”

“I haven’t,” said Nicholas.

“I just came downstairs,” said Max. “Although I have no idea if I went in there last night before I made it up the stairs and to your room.”

“Why?” asked Nicholas.

“I could be mistaken, but I couldn’t raise the seat when I was in there.”

Nicholas went immediately to the bathroom to check it out.

“It’s glued down,” he yelled from inside. “Seriously, it’s glued to the bowl.”

Max walked into the bathroom followed by a slow moving Miller. Max saw a key on the side of the vanity. He reached out a picked it up and looked at it. He recognized it right away. It was a key to Miller and Nicholas’s apartment.

“Meghan’s been here,” he said as he showed them the key.

“What?” asked Nicholas.

“This is Meghan’s key to your house. She put the pink cover on it so she would always know which one it was.”

“Do you mean to tell me that Meghan came into our apartment while we were asleep and glued the toilet seat down?” asked Nicholas as he processed the situation.

Miller started to laugh. The other two turned to him.

“She glued down the toilet seat,” he said through laughter. “She came into our apartment with glue and glued down our toilet seat.” He continued to laugh. “Who does shit like that?” He then put his hand to his head. “Oh my head.”

Nicholas and Max started to laugh with him.

“Is she bipolar?” asked Nicholas.

“She’s not bipolar. She’s just really angry with me and she’s hurt and she’s lashing out at the people I love,” responded Max.

He walked out of the bathroom and went into the living room to sit on the sofa. He buried his face in his hands. It was starting to sink in that his observation from the night before about not being able to go home again was true. He couldn’t stop his emotions from turning into tears.

Miller and Nicholas joined him on the sofa - one on either side of him. They were stronger together than when they were separate.

“What am I gonna do?” asked Max.

“You’re gonna move in here with us. That’s what you’re gonna do,” said Miller as he grabbed Max’s hand.

“When does my get over it begin,” asked Max as he searched Miller’s eyes for the answer.

“I don’t know, Max, but until it does you’re gonna be right here with us,” replied Miller.

“Listen, we’ll do a quick rearrange in the living room and move the desk out here. We can easily turn the office into your room,” said Nicholas.

“See. You’re gonna be fine, Max,” said Miller. His hangover took a backseat to the Folgers coffee commercial moment at hand.

“You can use our air mattress until you can get furniture of your own,” said Nicholas.

“After we go get those fries for me, we’ll go to your place and you can get enough stuff for the next few days,” said Miller. “If Meghan is home, Nicholas will go in and get the stuff.”

Nicholas looked as Miller inquisitively. Miller smiled.

“Your hangover must be getting better. Your bitchiness is showing,” said Nicholas.

“I’m on the mend. The water’s helping,” said Miller. He then turned to Max. “Next time you decide to get in bed with me and you want to spoon, you really should put a pillow between us. I have no desire to feel that much of you in the morning – if you know what I mean.

“Noted,” said Max with an embarrassed laugh. “Thank you,” He looked from one to the other. “Thank you for your friendship, for your support and for always loving me no matter how bad I screw things up. Thank you for making it easy for me to just be myself.”

“We love you, Max,” said Miller. “We will always take care of each other. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“Always,” said Nicholas. “So, how about we get dressed and get this day underway. It seems like the perfect day for a move doesn’t it?”

“That’s to be determined,” said Miller.

“While we’re out we should stop by Home Depot,” said Max. “I should get some acetone to remove the glue and I should get a new toilet seat.” A sheepish grin then formed on his face. “I can’t believe she actually glued down the toilet seat.

As they sat on the sofa laughing, Miller appreciated how rare and special their friendship truly was.

©2011 Michael Rohrer

COMMON GROUND "The Toilet Seat" - Part 7

They made it to Miller and Nicholas’s place without much incident. Nicholas’s shoe came untied once and Miller fell off the curb, but nobody was injured. Getting inside the house proved to be a little more difficult.

Miller sat down on the sidewalk to search through his bag for his keys. The normally organized gay man couldn’t seem to find his way through its contents while under the influence. Max and Nicholas stood there and watched him. After nearly two minutes, Nicholas reached his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his set of keys.

“I found my keys,” he proclaimed to Miller.

“Where were they?” asked Miller as he stopped searching in his bag.

“In my coat pocket.”

“Were they there the whole time?”

“Yeah. I just wasn’t looking for them. I was searching my brain like you were searching your bag. Once I remembered where they were, I pulled them out.”

“That’s stupid,” responded Miller. “Help me up.”

“Please,” said Max.

“Help me up, please,” said Miller peeved at Max’s need for niceties.

Nicholas opened the door very quietly as if in fear of waking someone inside.

“Come on,” he whispered.

Miller looked at Max then at Nicholas. “Why are we whispering?” he asked in a whisper.

“It’s late. I don’t want to wake anyone up,” responded Nicholas.

“The only people who live here are standing right here right now,” stated Miller. “Who’re we gonna wake up?”

“You two sure get snippy when you’re drunk,” said Max. “Can we just go inside?”

With the door shut and locked behind them, Miller went upstairs. Nicholas crossed through the living room and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Max just wanted to sit down. He made his way into the living room and plopped down on the sofa hard enough to scoot it back a little.

“Did you just move the sofa?” asked Miller from the top of the stairs.

“Did I?” asked Max in return.

Miller threw the sheets, comforter and pillow he had retrieved from the upstairs linen closet onto the sofa and stood back to look at it.

“Yes. You know I measure that shit to make sure it’s even. Remind me to fix it in the morning.”

“Sorry,” said Max.

Miller didn’t respond. It was unclear whether it was a silence due to defiance or non-hearing. He was already on his way to the kitchen so it was possible he hadn’t heard Max, who has a tendency to mumble.

“Good. Miller brought you the sheets,” said Nicholas as he walked back into the room. Miller then returned from the kitchen with three bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“We each need to take two aspirin and drink the entire bottle of water,” he said as he handed them each a bottle then tried to open the aspirin.

Frustrated at his inability to get the cap off he took a deep breath and set the bottle down on the coffee table with a thud. Max picked up the bottle.

“Let me help you there, Buttercup,” he said as he removed the cap with ease.

“Damn childproof caps,” Miller retorted as the other two snickered. “Done,” he said as he swallowed his two aspirin and passed the bottle to Nicholas.

Hangover prevention was now complete. The three of them were sitting in the living room in silence. The drunken evening was coming to a close. The buzz and the high were both plummeting to the earth faster than a white sheet stains after being splattered with mud. Nicholas looked at Max who had already slumped over on himself and fallen asleep.

“Max,” yelled Miller to wake him.

Max jumped with a start.

“You’ve gotta wake up so we can make up the sofa for you,” said Miller a little frustrated. Miller might be a lightweight, but Max was an early bird.

Max stood up and moved out of the way as Miller and Nicholas started putting sheets on the sofa.

“Thank you guys for letting me crash here tonight,” said Max, sounding a little weepy as can happen when one drinks too much.

Nicholas looked at Miller then past him to see Max. They both stopped with the sheets and walked over to him to give him a hug. He was crying.

“Come on now, Max, it’s gonna be okay,” said Nicholas.

“Yeah,” said Miller. “Your drunk tears are showing and they are not attractive.”

Max blew a deep breath out of his mouth and wiped the tears.

“Okay,” he said. He walked over to the sofa and sat down. He pulled his shoes off, and then laid back. “I love you guys.”

“I love you, too,” said Miller as he picked up the empty water bottles and took them to the kitchen to recycle.

“I love you, three,” said Nicholas, mussing Max’s hair as he headed toward the stairs. “Miller, turn off the lights on your way up,” he said as he reached the top.

“Yes, Mom,” Miller said as he was turning off the hallway light.

He stopped for just a moment and watched Max sleeping on the sofa.

“Good night, Max,” he said tenderly as he turned the living room light off and started up the stairs.

Morning came too soon for Nicholas. He woke around 9am. He was surprised and pleased to discover that he did not have a hangover. Miller's aspirin-and-a-bottle-of-water trick seemed to be the miracle prevention.

He heard a cell phone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from Miller's room. Normally Miller turns his phone off when he goes to sleep, but last night they were all just a little too alcoholically challenged to complete their normal rituals.

Eventually the phone stopped ringing. In the silence the memory of Meghan calling Max last night flooded back to him. He chuckled at the thought of the three of them staring, paralyzed with fear or curiosity, at a ringing phone in the middle of the table.

He walked into the bathroom. As he stood in front of the toilet he contemplated sitting. "No," he said to himself. "I will not succumb to the pressure. I am a man and men stand." When he’d finished he flushed then walked to the sink and started washing his hands. He heard the doorbell.

He turned off the water and listened to make sure his ears hadn't deceived him. The doorbell rang again.

With two sleeping people in the house, he grabbed the hand towel and dried his hands as he ran down the stairs as fast as he could.

When he opened the door he was shocked to find Miller's mom, Maggie, standing outside.

“Maggie?” said Nicholas, surprised.

“Good morning, Nicholas,” she responded.

Maggie Reid was an early riser and a generally cheerful person at all times. Her jovial laugh was infectious. She was also a bit naïve especially when it came to her son’s life. It wasn’t that she had blinders on it was that she chose to not ask the questions to which she didn’t want the answers.

“Maggie?” said Nicholas again, more as a statement this time than a question.

“Yes, Nicholas,” she chuckled. “We’ve established that already. Were you still in bed?”

“Not still in bed, but just out of it,” he responded. “What gave it away?” he said as he yawned. “The pajamas? My hair? My breath?”

“Your breath.” Maggie nodded her head at the same time as she spoke her response to his question.

Nicholas cupped his hand to his mouth and exhaled. The foul odor of his morning breath made him gag.

“What time is it?” Nicholas asked her.

“It’s about 9:30am out here on the sidewalk,” she responded without having to look at her watch. “I’m sure it’s the same time in there,” she said indicating the inside of the townhouse.

“Oh crap, Maggie. I’m sorry,” Nicholas moved out of the way as he held the door for her to enter. “Come in. I’ll just go brush my teeth.”

Nicholas ran upstairs to brush his teeth as Maggie began to look around the room. She noticed the sheets on the sofa and called upstairs to Nicholas.

“Do you and Miller have company?”

“What?” Nicholas responded from the top of the stairs with the toothbrush still in his mouth, one hand under his chin to catch any drippage.

“I said do you and Miller have company?” She indicated the sheets. “I see sheets on the sofa.”

“Max spent the night,” he said as he ran back to the bathroom to spit and rinse. He then ran down the stairs to join Maggie in the living room.

“Just Max?” she asked. “Where’s Meghan?”

“She’s not here,” said Nicholas, trying to just answer the question without sounding like there was something to hide.

“Well then, where is Max?” she asked as she started folding the sheets.

“That’s a good question,” Nicholas responded, looking around the room as if it were so large he might have missed seeing Max hidden in one of its corners. “He must have gotten up early. Maybe he went for a run or a workout. I have no idea.” He looked up stairs. “Tell you what. I’ll see if Miller is awake. Maybe he knows where Max is. At any rate, he needs to know you’re here.”

“Okay sweetie. You go wake him up.” She smiled. “I want to see if he’ll go to the nursery with me. I need some new shrubbery. I’m thinking Boxwood’s.”

“Okay,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

As he ran up the stairs Nicholas laughed to himself when he thought of Miller’s reaction to the fact that his mom was in the house and wanted him to go shrub shopping.

Nicholas simultaneously knocked and opened the door. He was prepared for the humor of the situation he thought would follow his news flash; he was not prepared for the shocking image that awaited him.

©2011 Michael Rohrer

COMMON GROUND "The Toilet Seat" - Part 6

Miller and Max didn’t so much burst through the door as stumble through it. Miller pushed the door open so hard that it hit the wall and bounced back at him. Max managed to catch the door before it hit the blissfully ignorant Miller in the face.

Their hearts were pounding. The blood was rushing. The alcohol, fear and dizziness combined to create a freaked-out effect.

They were looking everywhere for Nicholas. The sidewalk was deserted as well as the street. The only sound they could hear was the rattle of the bus stop sign just up the sidewalk being shaken by the breeze.

“Where is he,” cried out Miller.

“I’m seeing the same thing you are, Miller. I don’t know,” replied Max as he looked down the street for a car that might be driving hurriedly away.

“Don’t yell at me, Max,” said Miller, his feelings a little hurt.

Max didn’t hear Miller as he had walked to the corner to look down the side street that connected to Tremont.

“Look for his shoes.” Miller’s mind was showing him a scene of Nicholas being knocked out of his shoes by the break-screeching car.

“Oh my God,” Miller brought his hands up to his face. “He’s a hit and run victim,” Miller started rocking back and forth. “And he’s stuck under the car.” The alcohol allowed his senses to be extremely heightened so tears started down his cheeks. “That makes him a hit and drag victim.” He sat down on the sidewalk. “Max!”

As Max turned toward Miller’s shout he noticed smoke rising from the bench at the bus stop. He started walking in that direction and Miller thought he was coming to him so he reached up his arm for Max to help him up. Max ignored him and kept walking right past him.

“No, he’s just on fire,” Max said and then pursed his lips.

Miller looked over his shoulder at the direction Max was walking. He wrinkled his nose as his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Nicholas,” said Max with disdain.

Miller managed to get himself onto all fours and slowly push himself up to a standing position. With nothing to hold onto he swayed and staggered in a jagged line to the bench.

Nicholas had actually been lying on the bench watching the comedy reel of his friends searching for him. He sat up as the two of them stared down at him.

“You guys were taking forever,” he said very blasé.

“It was just a matter of seconds,” answered Miller defensively, wiping tears from his face as he steadied himself by placing his right leg against the bench for support. He reached for and took the cigarette from Miller then took a puff.

“If a second lasts five minutes,” responded Nicholas snatching the cigarette back from Miller’s fingers.

“You could have at least made some kind of noise or something and let us know you were here,” said Miller reaching for the cigarette again, Nicholas changing hands to keep it away from him.

“I decided to enjoy my cigarette,” responded Nicholas.

“Oh, is that how it is?” said Miller with mock scrutiny.

“Ladies,” Max took the cigarette from Nicholas and stamped it out on the ground. He detested smoking and hated that his two best friends enjoyed it – especially when drinking.

Nicholas looked at Miller as if it was his fault that Max had stamped out the cigarette. Miller looked at Max as he sat down on the bench, arms crossed, mouth silent.

“I nominate myself leader.” Max said as he pulled them both to their feet. “All in favor.”

Miller and Nicholas looked at each other and in unison said, “Aye.”
With their brief foray into parliamentary procedure over, Miller said, “You should have been the leader from the beginning. ‘Follow Nicholas’ you said.”

Miller had tried to say the words low enough for Max’s ears only, but caught sight of Nicholas giving him the “I can’t believe you said that” headshake.

Miller looked at Nicholas and laughed nervously. Max started to laugh at both of them. They couldn’t really stay mad at each other for too long. They knew each other too well and trusted each other too much. Nicholas joined in the laughter.

“Let’s go. I gotta pee,” said Max.

“Me, too,” said Miller.

“Me, three,” said Nicholas as he continued to laugh.

Miller stopped laughing after Nicholas said ‘me, three.’

“I hate ‘me, three’,” said Miller

Nicholas stopped laughing for dramatic effect then began to laugh again, hard. Miller joined in as he put his arm through Nicholas’s and they started walking toward home: 20 Winchester Street in Bay Village.

Miller noticed that Nicholas was walking with a limp. He looked down at Nicholas’s shoeless right foot.

“Where’s your shoe?” asked Miller.

Nicholas looked down and realized for the first time that he only had one shoe on.

“Crap,” said Nicholas as he flounced off to get his shoe on the bench at the bus stop.

Miller and Max just stood there watching him stagger run to and from the bench. He was huffing when he got back to them with his shoe in hand.

“Why did you take your shoe off?” asked Max.

“My right foot was hurting so I took my shoe off when I sat down on the bench. Then I got distracted with smoking the cigarette and watching the two of you. Then you guys came over and berated me. I’m sorry, but there’s only so much I can keep straight in here,” indicating his head, “with the tequila keeping my pistons from firing at full power.”

“Berated?” asked Max as if the word were too harsh for what had actually happened.

“Criticized?” responded Nicholas slowly and wide-eyed as if they were playing Password.

Max nodded his acceptance of the word ‘criticized’.

“Why didn’t you put it back on while you were at the bench getting it?” asked Miller.

“Crap,” said Nicholas as he looked at the shoe in his hand.

He bent over and lifted his foot to put his shoe on and nearly toppled forward. Max and Miller caught him by the arms as he screamed out. The two of them were silently laughing so hard that their bodies were almost shaking too much to lower Nicholas to the ground so that he could put the shoe on without fear of falling.

When his shoe was tied, Nicholas threw his arms into the air as an indication for his friends, who had so gently set him on the ground, to graciously help him up from it.

Back on two feet he said, “Thank you,” to both of them.

“You’re welcome,” said Max.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” said Miller. “A fall forward would have done nothing for your nose.”

Nicholas turned to look at Miller. Miller bit his lips to keep from laughing. Max moved to the middle between his two friends who wove their arms through his as the three of them turned left onto Stuart Street.

©2011 Michael Rohrer

COMMON GROUND "The Toilet Seat" - Part 5

As soon as he was out of earshot Miller turned to Nicholas.

“Oh my God! – ”

“I know. She’s a freak,” Nicholas responded.

“ – He wants the toilet seat,” said Miller, contemplating what that really meant, as he made sure his hoop earring was securely fastened in his ear.

“He doesn’t really want the toilet seat. He was joking.”

Miller didn’t know it was a joke. It hadn’t seemed that way to him. He was in no mood to be made a fool of though and played along as if he’d known it was a joke himself.

“I know he was joking,” said Miller. “So was I. My delivery was just bad. Sorry. It’s the tequila. It’s ruining my timing.”

“Your timing? That’s it,” said Nicholas as he again looked toward the bar for Max. He didn’t notice that Miller stuck out his tongue and wrinkled up his nose at him. It was so easy to become childlike.

“Did you wash the spare sheets after your sister left?” asked Nicholas as he turned back and almost caught Miller, who began to lick his lips as if playing the oversexed seductress in a bad Lifetime movie.

Nicholas wrinkled up his face in confusion as he watched Miller.

“I did,” Miller responded as he used his napkin wipe off his now spit covered lips. “They’re back in the hall closet.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“Happen with what? The sheets?” asked Miller as he looked into his bag to find his lip moisturizer.

Nicholas took a beat to gather his composure from the stupid question Miller had just asked him before he put a saccharine smile on his face answered.

“Divorce?”

“Oh,” Miller caught the look on Nicholas’s face and filed it away to use against him at a later date. “I don’t know if he’ll get divorced, but if he does we will help him through it.”

Miller reapplied his lip moisturizer.

“Do you think they’ll really get divorced?” Nicholas asked with genuine concern.

Miller looked at him. He used the moment of putting away his lip moisturizer as time to think before he spoke.

“If somebody left me a toilet seat message, and I’m not talking about calling me from a stall and leaving a message – which is gross by the way – I would probably file for divorce myself…provided I was married.”

A hot waiter that neither of them had seen before walked by as Miller was finishing his thought. He and Nicholas both cocked their heads to side to watch him walk through the restaurant.

“I haven’t had sex in so long.” Miller leaned into his left hand very much as Max had done earlier. He placed the tip of his middle finger seductively between his teeth.

“What about last week? Mr. Softie?” Nicholas couldn’t resist the dig as he covered his mouth to hide his gratification.

Miller snapped out of his fantasy life with the hot waiter who didn’t even know he existed.

“That doesn’t count,” he said to Nicholas, his eyes wide, his voice higher pitched by the end of the word “count”. “Mr. Softie,” he said, indicating his point by holding up a limp napkin. “Doesn’t count,” he whispered to himself as he threw the napkin to the table.

“Huh,” said Nicholas flatly at his friend’s denial of events that involved nudity with another man and what constitutes having sex.

“Why do you do that?” ask Miller.

“Do what?” replied Nicholas.

“Say “Huh” every time you’re shocked by something that one of us says,” said Miller, trying to keep calm. “Is it really so shocking that I don’t consider sleeping with a man who couldn’t keep it up as actually having sex? Do you have to make me feel foolish because I didn’t know Max was joking about the toilet seat?”

“Miller,” said Nicholas in a manner befitting someone who didn’t realize his words had hurt. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was joking. I wasn’t being serious. Damn tequila. It’s got us all flummoxed.”

“Do you have to keep doing it? I’m a little drunk right now and it’s hard for me to differentiate honesty from a joke. The tequila makes me sensitive.”

“Yeah. The tequila.”

Miller looked at him as if their prior exchange mere seconds ago had not happened. “Okay, more sensitive than usual.”

“Miller. Come on. I’m just joking. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. I’ll turn my filter back on.”

Max reappeared as if by apparition with three shots in his hand.

“Hey, look what I found,” he said with a big smile on his face as he placed a tequila shot on the table in front of each of them.

“Damn it!” said Nicholas, clearly annoyed that he would have to participate in further debasing himself in support of his friend.

“Oh,” Max turned to Miller. “Some guy at the bar said to tell your mom hi.”

“It doesn’t count,” Miller yelled in the direction of the bar. His vocal tantrum did little more than cause people at nearby tables to turn and stare at him. At which point he smiled and nodded and turned back to his own table.

“Okay boys, the round we didn’t need,” Max said as he held his shot glass aloft.

Miller and Nicholas reluctantly picked up their glasses. As the other two downed their shots of tequila, Nicholas threw his over his shoulder. He hadn’t planned his improvised avoidance very well as his tequila sailed through the air and landed on the crotch of the hot waiter.

The waiter looked down at this crotch then glared at Nicholas, who completely embarrassed sunk down in his seat and put his right hand to his forehead and covered his eyes.

The other two had missed the airborne-tequila-crotch-soaking moment completely.

“Oh my God,” said Miller as he put his shot glass down on the table. “I hope I can find my house.”

“Don’t worry, Miller Liteweight, we’ll both follow Nicholas,” said Max as he steadied himself on the table.

Nicholas shook his head at his two friends as he stood up very deliberately. He realized as that moment just how drunk he was as his head became cloudy with dizziness. The table began to spin, making him swirl along with it. He grabbed the edge to keep himself from twirling like a top and losing what little balance he had.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He held his head high, trying to keep his dignity in tact and headed toward the door. Miller, Max and other patrons were watching him as he realized that he was trying to walk out of the restaurant in the wrong direction. Acting as if what he was doing was perfectly normal, he stopped at a table, picked up the rose that was lying there and lifted it to his nose. The occupants of the table stared at him as he swayed back and forth. He noticed they were staring and smiled a coy smile at the man then looked at the woman, inhaled again and said, “Delicious,” as he put the rose down and turned to head in the direction of the exit.

Miller looked at Max. “You want us to follow him? Where? Into traffic.”

Max smiled as he picked Miller’s bag up from the floor and gave it to him. They began walking toward the exit. Miller slowly began to drift toward a table.

“This way, Buttercup,” said Max as he put an arm around Miller not only to help guide him, but to help steady himself. You could see the patrons at other tables leaning away from them as they passed.

Miller and Max made it across the restaurant to the door. Nicholas was nowhere in sight so they assumed he was already outside. It was then they heard the screech of breaks from the street. They looked at each other and said the one word that was going through both of their heads, “Nicholas.”

©2011 Michael Rohrer

COMMON GROUND "The Toilet Seat" - Part 4

He sat the phone in the middle of the table. The three of them sat staring at it, mesmerized as if they’d never seen anything like it, before it finally went silent.

The silence brought relief to the people sitting at tables near them; Max, Miller and Nicholas had been unaware of the daggers being shot at them from the staring eyes of their table neighbors. It hadn't occurred to any one of them to mute the ringer or even “ignore” the call. They sat staring at the now silent phone, spellbound by it's existence and waiting to see if it vibrated then blinked to alert them that Meghan had left a voice mail.

The anticipation could be cut with a knife. They were barely breathing. An outside observer would have done a double take upon first glance at their table just to see what had the three men occupying it so entranced.

Then it happened; the phone vibrated and the red voice mail alert light began to blink. They continued to stare, transfixed. To reach out and touch the phone was like voluntarily sticking your tongue in a light socket.

Max picked up the phone and pressed the button to connect him to his voice mail. He listened.

Miller was still hung up on the fact that he hadn’t washed his hands when Nicholas had pulled him out of the bathroom.

“Do you think I have time to go wash my hands?” he leaned over and whispered to Nicholas.

“No,” Nicholas responded sharply without taking his eyes from Max. He was watching for any change in Max’s demeanor as an indication of what Meghan may have said on the voice mail. The least of his concerns at the moment were Miller’s unwashed hands.

Max made no facial movements at all while listening to the voice mail.

“Okay. All right. Here,” Max was a bit agitated. “Just to give you an example.” Max put the phone on speaker and replayed the message. There were no words, just noises.

“What is that?” asked Miller again confused by what was going on. He cocked his head like a dog hearing a high-pitched squeak and leaned in a little toward the phone.

Nicholas for some reason figured it out immediately. Maybe it was because he had heard the same sound moments before when he’d walked into the bathroom to find Miller.

Nicholas looked at Miller and over pronounced the letters “O. C. D.” in a loud whisper in an effort to help him understand what he was hearing instead of blatantly stating it.

Miller’s face suddenly changed as he realized what it was. “Oh,” he said almost aghast. Then thinking about it again he grimaced and repeated, “Oh,” with a disgusted look on his face. He couldn’t believe that Meghan had actually left a voice mail on Max’s phone of herself lifting and putting down the toilet seat. She was crazy.

“I can’t go home,” said Max, as he started to freak out a little. “I can never go home again.” He waited a beat then tagged on, “I’m homeless.”

“You’re not homeless,” said Miller, surprised at his quick response and levelheaded disposition under pressure. He was the one prone to overly dramatic exaggeration, yet here he was reeling Max in from the ledge. “You can stay with us. Right, Nicholas?” Miller looked at Nicholas for a response.

“Of course you can stay with us,” said Nicholas as he reached out and placed his hand on top of Max’s. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

Miller looked at Nicholas's hand on top of Max's and, being filter free due to the amount of tequila he had consumed, reached out and removed Nicholas's hand from atop Max's as he said, "You know you shouldn't be doing that. Remember college?"

Nicholas tutted as he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. Miller placed his own hand on top of Max's.

"I can hold his hand in his time of homelessness. I never had a crush on him like you. This means nothing to me," said Miller as nonchalantly as ordering another drink.

Nicholas inhaled sharply then rolled his eyes as he released a deep breath of annoyance.

“Really?” said Nicholas, surprised at how Miller’s choice of words rolled off of his tongue.

“What?” asked Miller in the same nonchalant voice.

Max started to laugh as he reached up with his free hand and slapped Miller's to get him to move it.

Miller started to laugh. He looked over at Nicholas who still had the scowl of child whose feelings had been hurt on his face. He reached over and took Nicholas’s hand and in his best smoky noir femme fatale voice said, “I didn’t mean to leave you out, lover.”

Nicholas couldn’t keep a straight face. Whether it was the alcohol or the fact that what Miller had said was actually funny, he couldn’t keep from laughing.

“We’ll go over to your apartment while Meghan is at work and help you clear out your stuff,” said Miller to Max as a plan of attack started to formulate in his tequila-drowned mind.

“We’ll take the toilet seat too,” responded Max, proud of his idea. He had somehow turned into an evil mastermind floating without a life preserver down the tequila river where common sense sinks like a stone.

Responding as if he hadn’t consumed as much alcohol as the other two, “We’re not taking the toilet seat,” Nicholas blurted out looking at Max like he was stupid.

“Well then at least let me leave it up,” said Max in an effort to give another option of deviousness just to screw with Meghan’s mind.

“And I thought I was obsessive,” said Miller more to himself than to the other two.

“We should have one more round,” said Max, his scheming side kicked into high gear by his thoughts of what he could do the Meghan.

Having the sense to realize that they should stop now, Miller and Nicholas shouted “No!” at the same time.

Shocked by their outburst, Max finished what was left of his margarita, pouted for just a second then slowly stood up from the table. “I’ll go settle up then.” He checked his balance by carefully letting go of the table. The room was gently spinning, but his legs held. He walked in the direction of the bar in search of Jillian, only staggering once.

©2011 Michael Rohrer

The Imprtance of Being...

A half a bottle of wine can go a long way in releasing one's tongue. I didn't say the things I really wanted to say or the things I should have said, but I did say many things that allowed the ice that has frozen between us to crack.

Neal was in town for the weekend and he, Matt and I had dinner on Friday night at Whym. I don't remember the last time I saw Matt so I was a little nervous. There's no reason that I should be nervous when it comes to anything Matt. He's been my best friend, along with Neal, for 19 years. Nineteen years! That's a long time and a lot of shared history. When you put that into perspective, the fact that I was nervous is ridiculous.

Matt and I have had a distant relationship as of late. I don't think it's exactly strained; it's just not what it used to be. You see I've been single for 13 years - partly by choice and partly by fear of commitment. I became dependent on Matt. He and I were roommates in the City for several years and even though he is straight and always in a committed relationship, I gave him the grand occupancy in my heart that should have gone to someone else, i.e., a boyfriend.

Patterns. It's just something that happened. I didn't really know it had happened until I started distancing myself from him in order to be less dependent. It was then that I realized he was the first person I call with news both good and bad. The difference is this: I'm not the first person he calls. Matt isn't scared to be in a relationship. Matt wants to be in a relationship; he thrives on it. I'm the one who's scared. He never gave me the high pedestal of love that I gave him. Yes, he loves me, but I never felt as needed as when he needed me. That's a problem and a pattern. When I realized that, I got upset - with me and with him. He wasn't at fault, but in my sadness, anger and disappointment, I slowly began to cut myself off from him. Can you imagine? I cut myself off from one of the two people who have been with me through every major event in my life from early twenties to now. I couldn't figure out how to be less dependent on him without breaking my pattern of using him for everything. That created distance. Now we barely talk anymore. That's not exactly what I wanted either.

I was afraid. I wanted to be strong enough to not need him. In my mind he didn't need me nearly as much as I needed him. I think I felt weak for the need.

When I saw him Friday night nothing mattered but how much I've missed my friend. Oh how much!

Neal made the comment in conversation that the three of us do not have the same friendship as we had all those years ago; we have changed and grown. If we had tried to hold onto it the way it was it would have died and we probably would have lost touch.

He's right. We are different people. Matt's been married twice and is now engaged again. Neal fought the marriage equality fight in Massachusetts and is happily married to the wonderful Stephen. They put up with my perpetually single self and the miserable home life I lived with for 13 years (thank you Zanzibar) and watched me joyously come out on the other side and in another borough.

Friends support each other. They love each other. I think that my desire to distance myself from a dependency has been selfish and irresponsible. There has to be a balance. Balance will not come without work though.

We three need each other. We are family. Neal and Matt are my brothers. Families fight, they make up, they get over it, they hug, they laugh again, they forgive...they love each other. As much as I feel weak for needing anyone, I need those two men in my life. I'm weaker for trying not to need them. I'm stronger for admitting that I do.

W&W "Chocolate Pumpkin Brownie Muffins"

I met Heather in the cake mix aisle of Food Emporium last Saturday night. I was listening to a story my friend Brandon was telling me. It was heartfelt and I should be punished for not listening as intently as I should have been. If I had been listening with both ears focused solely on him, I probably wouldn't have heard the woman next to me asking an employee for pumpkin; real pumpkin, not pumpkin pie filling. I couldn't help but stop Brandon and ask her if I had heard her correctly. I mean how many people at the same time are looking for canned pumpkin? She said that she was indeed looking for pumpkin. She wanted to make these brownie muffins she'd seen made on television. I looked at her with a "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" look on my face and revealed the chocolate cake mix I had in my hand. We discovered we had both seen the same program and wanted to make the same brownie muffins. We laughed and introduced ourselves then went our our merry pumpkin-searching way.

Here's the story: Thursday I happened to be channel surfing and came across a channel that I'd never heard of before. It's called Cooking Channel. Sounds like direct competition with The Food Network to me. Anyway, I watched a couple of shows. One was about putting a french spin on ordinary dishes. I recorded that one so that I could try some of it later. The other was a series called Hungry Girl. On the episode I watched, the host, Lisa, was swapping. Let me explain that a little. She wasn't swapping butter for margarine; she was swapping the fatty food you love with something similar but low fat. She showed the viewer how to get the same type of feeling one gets from eating something they love without eating it and all of its fat. Her example: chips. She loves chips. Chips are loaded with fat. She took fresh kale and cut it up, sprinkled it with sea salt, sprayed it with olive oil spray (briefly) and then placed it in the oven to bake for 10-12 minutes. It came out of the oven crunchy. It's a healthy, fat free alternative to chips. She said it has the consistency of pop corn. Another chip replacement was Lavosh. I had never heard of Lavosh: a round thin Middle Eastern bread that is soft like a tortilla. It was very large. She cut it into pieces, placed it on a cookie sheet and popped it in the oven for 2 minutes. They crisp right up and again replace your crispy chip desire with something that crunches like a chip, but has no fat. Basically, you're tricking your senses with the crunch you desire but not adding the fat to you waist line. Disclaimer: I did not try either of these things.

What I did try was her low fat/low calorie chocolate brownie swap. It was so simple. Two ingredients is all you need plus whatever you might use to dress it up without taking away too much of its healthier-for-you factor.

1 box of chocolate cake mix
1 can of pumpkin

You read right. Those are the two ingredients.

I used a Duncan Hines® Devils Food cake mix and a can of organic pumpkin. It's important to note here that it's pumpkin NOT pumpkin pie filling. Just plain old pumpkin in a can. The pumpkin replaces everything else that the cake mix calls for.

Pour the cake mix into a bowl and then add the pumpkin to the mix. You're gonna need to put some elbow grease into it because it takes a bit of stirring to mix the pumpkin and cake mix to a smooth batter. Don't be afraid. It didn't really take that long. If you choose to taste the batter at this point, you're going to find yourself in brownie heaven. Seriously, that's what it tastes like; a rich, chocolate brownie.

Here's where I made some changes; I am a tweaker afterall. I added two teaspoons of vanilla and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Actually, I started with one teaspoon of vanilla and a sprinkling of cinnamon, but after blending it into the batter and tasting it, I decided to add another teaspoon of vanilla and more cinnamon. None of that is detrimental to the low fat/low calorie plan thus far. Oops (sly grin) here's where I messed up. You see, I wanted caramel baking chips in these brownie muffins. I couldn't find them at either grocery store I went to. I settled for a Milky Way® Caramel candy bar. Hey, I wanted my caramel and I found a way to get it. Who are you to judge me? I chopped the bar into small pieces and dumped them into the batter.

Let's review:
1 box chocolate cake mix
1 can pumpkin
2 teaspoons vanilla
cinnamon 'til your heart's content
1 Milky Way® Caramel bar chopped

Remember Lisa, the host? She suggested tin cupcake liners. I couldn't find any so we went without. I sprayed Pam® all over the muffin pan and then spooned the batter into the muffin holes. The recipe only makes 12 brownie muffins.

They bake for 20-24 minutes.

Get the liners! The brownie muffins didn't exactly stick to the pan, but they were so moist that they fell apart as I tried to get them out of the pan. The cupcake liner would hold it all together.

Okay, I don't want to brag and truthfully, I just added to somebody elses recipe, but they were amazing. Seriously, I recommend trying this at home. We served ours with fat free vanilla frozen yogurt.

They were dense and gooey and chocolatey just like a brownie should be. It was like a chocolate explosion in my mouth; sometimes sticking to the roof like too much Wonderbread® or peanut butter. Don't be deterred by that. It was amazing. The caramel melted, and in some instances bubble right out the top. I could smell the cinnamon while they baked. Everyone agreed that they were a good choice for satisfying our sweet tooth and our chocolate craving. That's killing two birds with one low fat/low calorie stone.

Cheers!