The Troll Whisperer (5 page)

When he passed by a liquor store, he decided
to stop in and grab a bottle of wine to take to Noah’s. That seemed
like it would be a nice thing to do. By then, it was time for him
to head back. He was a little early, but whatever. He knocked on
the door.

Noah answered almost immediately. “Hello!
Please come in.” He was wearing a green apron over a checkered
short sleeved button-down shirt and a pair of dad jeans. It was
about the dorkiest outfit Oscar could imagine.

Oscar stepped inside and looked around. The
apartment was laid out the same as his— an open floor plan with a
living room in the front, kitchen in the back, and a small dining
area beside it. The bedroom and bathroom were off to the right.
Other than that, their apartments had nothing in common. Noah had
real grown-up furniture; it all looked secondhand, but he had a
couch and an armchair. There was a quilt draped over the back of
the couch— probably an attempt to conceal how threadbare it was,
but it didn’t really succeed. A small TV/VCR combo sat on a stand
in front of the couch. A couple of posters of New England
landscapes in cheap frames decorated the walls. This was a shitty
apartment trying very hard to be something better.

Oscar cleared his throat. He held out the
wine bottle. “I, uh, got this for you.”

“Oh!” Noah’s smile was a little too wide as
he accepted it. “I don’t actually drink a lot of wine, so I don’t
have a corkscrew.”

Well, shit. That had gone down like a lead
balloon. Oscar gestured vaguely at the door. “I could go get
one—”

“No, it’s all right,” Noah said quickly. “I
got beer for us.”

“Okay, cool.” This was not off to a great
start. He developed a sudden interest in his own flip-flops; he
probably should have trimmed his toenails. They looked kind of
nasty.

Noah dipped his head until he caught Oscar’s
gaze. “It was very thoughtful,” he said with a smile. “Thank
you.”

Oscar smiled back.

Noah gestured to the dining area. “Please,
have a seat.”

Oscar sat down in one of the chairs at the
dining room table while Noah went back into the kitchen. The table
was set for two with mismatched dishes. Oddly, there were two wine
glasses, but Noah said he didn’t drink wine. In the center of the
table, there was a bowl of chips and a side of salsa. Oscar helped
himself while Noah busied himself with dinner. “Smells good,” Oscar
said. “What’re we having?”

“Enchiladas.” Noah opened the oven door. The
warm, familiar smell of spices and tortillas filled the room. “I
practiced earlier this week, and it didn’t turn out too well.
Hopefully, I got it right this time.”

Practiced? As in, he planned this meal?
Specifically for Oscar? Oscar shifted uncomfortably; he didn’t know
what to make of that. Of course, he was thrilled Noah was into him,
but this seemed a little too into him for his comfort.

Noah put the pan on the stove to cool. After
he took off his apron, he sat down across from Oscar. He jumped up
again almost immediately. “I forgot our drinks!” He hurried to the
fridge and pulled a bottle out of the fridge. When he set it on the
table, Oscar saw that it was a 40 oz of Miller Light. Oscar was
about to ask where his was, but then Noah started to pour some into
his wine glass. He was too baffled to say anything. Who drank beer
in wine glasses?

The beer immediately began to foam up. “Oh
no!” Noah gasped.

“No, it’s cool,” Oscar said. “Look, I’ll show
you a trick.” He stuck a finger in the foam; it began to subside.
Oscar looked up at Noah, who was looking at him as if— well, as if
he’d just stuck a finger in his drink during dinner. He hastily
removed his finger. “I bathed today,” he offered weakly.

Noah shifted his expression into something
more neutral. “Right.” They fell into an awkward silence for a
moment.

Oscar reached across the table for Noah’s
glass; he took the beer bottle in the other. “Here— you’ve got to
angle the glass.” The beer flowed smoothly, only foaming a bit at
the top.

Noah’s cheeks had flushed a light pink. It
was a good look on him. “Thanks,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I
don’t have much experience with drinking.”

“Conservative parents?” Oscar guessed.

Noah snorted. “You have no idea.”

So Oscar had been right. Move over Sherlock
Holmes— Oscar had cracked the case. It wasn’t really any of his
business, so he didn’t press further.

Noah took a sip of the beer. “So what do you
do?”

Crap. This was not a great pre-dinner
conversation. “I work in wastewater management.”

Noah cocked his head. “Wastewater
management?”

Oscar cleared his throat. “Yeah, you know,
like sewers and stuff.”

“So you’re a manager at the sewage
plant?”

“Wastewater,” Oscar corrected. Jesus, he
sounded like Bob. “And I’m not really a manager. I— you know,
manage the wastewater.” Oh for Christ’s sake, this was ridiculous.
“I work in sewage. I clean up the waste and treat the water.”

Oscar waited for him to crinkle his nose in
disgust, but Noah merely looked thoughtful. “I was just reading
about famous epidemics in history class, and so many of them were
caused by the lack of proper sewage disposal. If you think about
it, modern life is only really possible because of our sewage
systems.”

Oscar blinked. Of all the responses Oscar
thought he might receive from Noah, that one had never crossed his
mind. “Yeah, exactly,” he said, a little bewildered.

“So are there really alligators in the
sewers?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh yeah, loads,” Oscar said, grinning back
at him. “We ride them sometimes. We’ve got special saddles and
everything.”

Noah laughed; they both took another drink.
The silence was warmer this time. “I’m going to go check on the
enchiladas,” Noah said after a moment. He deemed them ready to
serve and brought the pan over, setting it on a hot pad on the
table. He served Oscar first, and then himself. They chatted as
they ate; mostly mundane stuff like how Noah was liking the city,
what sorts of things he was studying in school. Oscar even talked a
little more about his job, which would disgust most people
(especially over dinner), but Noah seemed to find it
fascinating.

“So how did I do with dinner?” Noah asked
when they were finished.

“Really good. I haven’t had home-cooked
enchiladas in a long time. My mom used to make them all the time
when I was growing up.”

“You don’t visit often, then?”

Oscar tensed. “Not recently.”

Noah pressed his lips together and looked
down. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot.”

“It’s not sore, exactly,” Oscar said. “It’s
just— complicated.”

Noah gave him a sad smile. “Well, the subject
of family is both sore and complicated with me as well, if it makes
you feel any better.”

Oscar looked down at his empty glass; his pot
buzz was gone, and he was going to need way more beer to get
through a conversation about family. “Is that why you moved out
here?” Oscar asked. “To get away from them?”

“Yes.” He paused. “They’re Jehovah’s
Witnesses.”

Oscar thought about it. “Oh yeah, the
knocking-on-doors guys. Not cool with the whole gay thing,
huh?”

Noah froze. Wait— had Oscar totally misread
the situation? “I mean, you are, right?” he asked.

Noah was pink again. “Yes,” he said. “Yes,
I’m gay. I’m sorry, I’m just not used to saying it out loud.”

Oscar felt a flood of relief. This whole day
had been embarrassing enough already. “Yeah— it takes some getting
used to. They didn’t react well, I’m guessing.”

“Actually, I don’t know how they reacted. I
just left them a note saying I was leaving the church, and then I
got on a plane and moved out here with my uncle.”

“And they haven’t come looking for you?”

“Once someone leaves the church, you aren’t
allowed to have any contact with them. I wasn’t even supposed to be
speaking with my uncle, but before he left, he gave me his e-mail
address. I started talking to him via e-mail, and he said he’d help
me if I ever wanted to leave.” Noah paused. “I did leave a note for
my sister, Rebecca. I hope she’ll reach out one day. She’s the only
one I really miss.”

“So you lived with your uncle for a
while?”

“Yes. He helped me get my footing while I
decided what to do with myself.”

“Are you out to him?”

“I’m working on it.” He fiddled with his
fork. “I think he’ll be all right. He left the Jehovah’s Witnesses
years ago, and his new church is very accepting. I just didn’t know
how he would feel, and I wanted to make sure our relationship was
on solid footing. I went directly from school to work for my
family’s carpentry business, so I feel really unsure about
navigating anything that isn’t church related.”

“What, did you live on a compound or
something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Noah said quickly.
“We weren’t isolated from the world. It’s more like our world was…
filtered.”

“How’s that?”

“I wasn’t allowed to read or watch things
that were deemed ‘worldly,’ and I wasn’t supposed to associate with
anyone not in the church. My sister and I went to public school,
but we were supposed to keep everyone else at a distance.”

Oscar blinked. “You didn’t have friends at
school?”

Noah smiled sadly. “No, I did. I just
couldn’t ever hang out with them.”

Oscar tried to imagine that, but it was too
baffling to even contemplate.

“Of course, I had friends in the church,
too,” he said. “But it was always difficult for me. I knew I was…
different from a pretty young age. I only vaguely understood what
being gay meant, but I didn’t even dare ask questions— not even of
myself. I finally started seeking information in my sophomore year;
my parents restricted me, but they didn’t think to ban me from the
library. I was allowed to go there alone.” He affected a lighter
tone. “I eagerly awaited each new issue of
Men’s Health
in
the magazine section every month.”

Oscar had no idea what to say to any of that.
“Wow, that blows,” was what he eventually came up with.

Noah shifted in his seat. “This is sort of a
depressing topic, don’t you think? Why don’t I clean up and get our
dessert?” Without waiting for an answer, Noah gathered their plates
from the table.

Well, that had been a boner killer. This is
why he didn’t date; feelings were too complicated if you just
wanted to fuck. Noah returned with two chocolate cupcakes on paper
plates. He put one in front of Oscar and then sat down with the
other. Oscar noticed that Noah’s had a birthday candle.

“It’s my first birthday,” Noah explained.
“Jehovah’s Witnesses aren’t permitted to celebrate them. I know it
seems kind of silly, but I’ve always wanted to blow out a candle.”
He took the book of matches he’d brought with him and struck one;
it crackled into flame. He brought the match to the candlewick
until it was lighted. With a flick of his hand, he put out the
match.

The two of them sat staring at the dancing
flame for a moment. Noah made to blow out the candle, but Oscar
stopped him. “Wait— aren’t we going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ or
something?”

“You really don’t have to,” Noah said. “I
feel silly enough as it is.”

“No,” Oscar insisted. “If we’re doing this,
we should do it right.” He cleared his throat and began the
birthday song. He felt stupider with each note, considering how
crap he was at singing. His voice cracked at the high note when he
got to Noah’s name, but he soldiered on because of the look on
Noah’s face— an expression halfway between embarrassment and real
joy at finally hearing a birthday song. It broke Oscar’s heart a
little.

There was a moment of silence after Oscar
finished the song. “Well, aren’t you going to blow out the candle?”
Oscar said gruffly.

Noah puckered his lips and blew out the
flame. Smoke swirled in front of Noah’s face before finally
dissipating.

“So did you make a wish?” Oscar asked.

“Yes.” Noah got up from his seat. He reached
out for Oscar haltingly, as if he were afraid Oscar would jerk
away. When it became clear that his touch was welcome, Noah kissed
him— no tongue, just a gentle pressure of his lips against Oscar’s.
Oscar immediately got to his feet so that he could sweep Noah into
a real embrace. Noah was still tense in his arms, so Oscar held
back a little, keeping their kisses shallow. After a few minutes,
Oscar felt Noah give in to it. Their kisses became deeper and more
intense.

Oscar steered them toward the couch, giving
Noah a little push until he landed on it. Oscar had his own clothes
off in minutes; no one got naked faster than Oscar. Noah just gaped
at Oscar’s naked body. Oscar grinned; he always appreciated a rapt
audience. He leaned down to kiss Noah again, pushing forward until
Noah was lying on the couch with Oscar on top of him. Oscar pulled
away from the kiss to unbutton Noah’s jeans, which drew out a
strange keening noise from Noah.