Coda 02 -A to Z

pounding into me hard. I was still going. He didn’t reach around. He stayed there, still inside of me, holding tight to my hips until I finished, and then he collapsed next to me on the bed.
    “You’re amazing, Zach.”
    I wished I could honestly say the same thing to him. Still, any sex was better than no sex, and I figured it would get better with time.
    “Why did you have to work so late?” I asked.
    “The meeting ran late. You know how it is. Everybody talking, nobody listening.” Actually, I didn’t know, but I didn’t answer. “It’s boring.”
    “I’m glad you made it.”

    “Me too. I missed you.” He rolled over to kiss me, then stood up, and started getting dressed. “I’ll take some of that wine now.”
    I put on some sweats and a T-shirt, then poured the wine. He followed me into the living room. I turned on some music and turned around to find him watching me from across the room. We stood there, awkwardly staring at each other. It was ridiculous. I had just let him fuck me, and yet I had no idea what to say to him.
    He glanced into the dining room and saw the puzzle sitting on the table. He walked in to look at it, and I followed him. “Do you like puzzles?” I asked.
    He smiled at me. “You bet.”
    I sat down in one of the chairs, and he sat in the chair next to me. “This one’s harder than I thought it would be,” I said as I started searching for one piece in particular which had been eluding me. “There are so many different shades of gray.”
    He made a disinterested sound. I kept looking for my piece. He fidgeted for a bit, picking up pieces randomly and trying to fit them in. After a few minutes, he got up and wandered into the living room. Suddenly my music stopped, and he turned on the radio and started turning the knob. It took him a long time to find a station, and the constant stutter and stop of radio chatter punctuated by distressed static annoyed me more than it should have. What was wrong with the music I had on? If he didn’t like, he could have just said something.
    He finally found a station that he liked and came back in to the dining room. He didn’t sit down, though. He set his empty wine glass on the table and said, “I need to get going. I have to be at work early.”
    “Okay,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I walked him to the door and kissed him good night.

    I ended up drinking my wine alone.

    T HE next morning was Angelo’s first day working at A to Z Video. I almost expected him to do a no-show, but he arrived right on time.
    “Where did you park?” I asked him when he came in the door. “You don’t want to park under Sensei’s balcony. At least twice a year, one of his students pukes over the railing.”
    He looked amused by that but shook his head. “Don’t own a car.”

    “You don’t drive?” I asked in surprise.
    “I don’t own a car ,” he said again, as if the distinction was important. “Don’t need one. Only live two blocks away. My other job is four blocks over. Grocery store between here and there.” He shrugged. “Easier to walk.”
    “What about in the winter?” I asked.

    He gave me that annoyingly cute lopsided smirk. “Like I said, easier to walk.”
    The door opened and Ruby walked in. Angelo was only a few steps away from her, and she headed for him with her arms out like she was going to hug him. His reaction was completely unexpected. He practically bolted. He backed away from her so fast he tripped over his own shoes and ran into the movie display behind him. I thought for a second the whole thing would tip over. It stayed standing, but at least a dozen movies hit the floor. Stuck against the shelves with no way to back up farther, Angelo stood frozen like the metaphorical deer in the headlights as Ruby grabbed his shoulders. He looked terrified, and I fought hard to keep from laughing.
    “You have positive energy all around you,” she said to him matter-of-factly. “I could feel your light through the walls of the store. You’re a bringer of life.” He stared at her in mute shock, and she patted his cheek with her wrinkled hand and then turned and walked back out.
    He looked over at me with huge eyes and asked breathlessly, “Who the fuck was that?”
    “The neighbor. She owns the bookstore.”
“She crazy?” There wasn’t even a hint of humor in his voice.
    “It’s a distinct possibility,” I said, smiling. He didn’t smile back.
    Who would have guessed that the punk with