Single Player (20 page)

This was getting uncomfortable. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation with Silas, or with anyone, actually. “I'm still not sure if I'm interested. I haven't made up my mind yet.”

Silas opened his mouth to respond, but just then, they heard a cheerful “Hello, hello!” from out beyond the floodlights. The familiar voice made Matthew and Caleb look up, and Silas followed their gazes as well, stopping before he could give what was probably going to be an epic persuasive speech on why Matthew should take the promotion and become a huge workaholic. Isabel emerged from beyond the wall of light, carrying a pizza box like the bearer of the Holy Grail. Matthew could have kissed her, not just for the pizza, but for saving him from having this conversation with Silas right now.

“Caleb said you guys would be showing up to use his workshop, and I thought you all might be hungry.” She lifted the pizza.

“Thank god, you beautiful woman.” Matthew went over and took the pizza box from her, enveloping her in a hug.

“Hey!” Caleb said in mock indignation. “That's my line.”

“You've gotta get to your lines quicker, then.” Matthew let Isabel go, and she took the pizza back out of his hands.

Silas gave Isabel a short wave, his persuasive speech apparently forgotten or set aside. “Hi. I'm Silas. I'm Matthew's . . . boyfriend.” He still hesitated before saying the word, but not as much. “I'd shake your hand, but I'm covered in grease.”

“That's okay.” She gave a small wave back. “I'm Isabel. I work with Matthew, and Caleb's my . . . well . . .” She looked to Caleb, who nodded and smiled. “He's my fiancé.”

Matthew gaped. “What? When did you two get engaged?”

Isabel grinned and put her arm through Caleb's. “A couple of days ago. We haven't told anyone yet.”

Matthew grabbed her left hand and pulled it over to look at the ring, which was an intricate interweaving of three fine metal bands, creating a braided look. He'd never seen anything like it. “This is gorgeous. Holy shit, guys. How did I not see this at work?”

“Nobody's noticed, actually. It doesn't look like a normal engagement ring, so that might be why. Caleb made it.” Isabel elbowed her boyfriend—no, fiancé—her face completely aglow with happiness.

Silas moved in to examine the ring, too, then nodded. “That's very good work. You were right, Matthew, when you said he was talented.”

“Thanks, man.” Caleb nodded in appreciation. “Took me fucking forever, too. You'd think smaller items would be faster, but they're not.”

“No, they're certainly not,” Silas agreed. “I was doing work on a heart valve replacement a couple of years ago and it took me longer to do than most of my other projects.”

“Glad you took your time, though,” Isabel quipped. “Don't want to rush that.”

“No, you definitely don't.” Silas's reply was serious.

Seeing Isabel and Caleb make a firm commitment of their love like this gave Matthew pause. He didn't have married friends. Sure, he was almost thirty, but his social circle tended to be mostly single. Most of the people at PI Games were his age or younger, and yet none of them had settled down. Isabel and Caleb, though, that was permanent. That was something real.

Realizing he might be staring blankly, he covered for his lapse in the conversation by clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Okay, we need to celebrate your engagement with this delicious pizza.” Matthew flipped open the cover and inhaled the cheesy goodness. “Fuck yes.” They dug into the pizza straight from the box, even Silas, despite looking a bit stressed about having to clean up with only hand sanitizer and a clean rag, and conversation moved on to other topics as they sat cross-legged in the storage space. But even as he laughed and joked with his friends and Silas, Matthew found his eyes returning to the delicate metal ring encircling Isabel's finger, marking her and Caleb as belonging to each other wholly and completely.

He was surprised by how much he wanted that right then. He wanted that something real. He wanted what they had.

The question was, did he want that with Silas? And, more important, was that something Silas could ever want with him?

Silas carried the prototype
cat wheelchair into Matthew's apartment, holding it like it was a prized trophy and not something he'd spent the last few hours meticulously constructing in a storage unit. Matthew smiled at his obvious pride, one more endearing aspect of the guy.

He studied the device again as he took it from Silas. “I still can't believe you built this with what we had in that workshop, Silas. It's incredible. It looks better than all the ones I saw on Amazon.”

“Thank you.” Silas sounded genuinely pleased by the praise. “I had a nice time building it.” He ran a hand over the hammock section that would support Zuul's belly. “Your friends are nice.”

“Aren't they the best? I'm so happy for them.” Matthew set the wheelchair on the table, rolling it back and forth. They had tested it over and over back at the workshop, but he couldn't get over the smoothness of the mechanism and enjoyed the sound of it rolling over the table.

“They certainly seem happy,” Silas said. He watched Matthew testing the device as he spoke, and his tone sounded thoughtful. “I never thought much about settling down before.”

The fact that “before” meant “before now” was unspoken, but Matthew heard it there, hovering at the edge of Silas's words. Maybe he wasn't the only one curious about whatever they had between them. Maybe he wasn't the only one thinking of what could be. The very idea was frightening, but also exhilarating.

“Uh, so, the boyfriend thing.” Matthew swallowed. “I didn't mean to spring that on you.”

“Oh.” Silas shrugged. “It's okay. Labels aren't that important, right?” He looked around the apartment. “So where's your cat? Are you ready to try this?”

Matthew was aware of the subject change, and he didn't know how he felt about the “labels aren't that important” line, but Silas didn't seem upset, so he figured he could let it go. “She likes to sleep in her crate. I'll go get her.”

Zuul, as it turned out, was none too pleased with the device at first. The measurements were accurate, so it fit her perfectly, but she flailed when they first laid her into the hammock, which supported her stomach and back legs and gave her little wheels instead. Once they had her in place, a job that landed both of them several long thin scratches, they let her go and she glared at each man in turn before trying to run away in that hobbling zombie way of hers. At the first instance of speed, though, she stopped, then tried again, and then she was off. With the cart supporting her lower half, she ran without impediment, careening down the hallway, and then skidded to a stop right before she would have slammed into the wall. Then she turned and ran back to them. What had started as a desire to escape the device then turned visibly into an exploration, as she started sniffing the cart and turning in a circle, which the device managed easily, thanks to the tight turning radius Silas's design had ensured.

“Do you think she can use the litter box with it?” Silas watched her walk more slowly now, but also more upright than before.

“I don't know. Let's take a look.” Matthew carried her, wheelchair and all, to the bathroom, where he'd put the litter box with its makeshift entrance ramp. He set her on the ramp. She rolled herself in and out without incident, although she did track quite a bit of litter out onto the mat.

“My litter box ramp designs could take care of that.” Silas pointed to the litter tracks. “I really need access to a 3-D printer, though.”

Matthew thought about his friends at work. “I don't know anyone who has one.”

Silas rubbed his jaw, where his five o'clock shadow darkened the skin. Matthew loved the feel of someone else's stubble against his face and body, and just seeing Silas touch his face like this made him think of his faint whiskers skating across Matthew's cheek, his clavicle, then lower on his chest, scratching all the way down . . .

“I still know some people at the University of Tampa. I'll ask them.” Silas nodded, interrupting Matthew's increasingly lurid train of thought. “Yeah, I might be able to make that work.”

In the meantime, Zuul had trotted past them, wheeling herself down the hallway without any concern for the people she'd left behind. Realizing she was gone, Matthew followed her, and Silas trailed after. Zuul was easy to hear, since the hardwood floors of the condo carried the sound.

“I think she likes it,” Matthew said, laughing as she broke into another run. He'd been doing his reading on the subject, and knew he couldn't leave her alone in her cart because she could get caught on something and hurt herself, but this would be a great option for her when he was home. She could have more mobility like this in the evenings, perfect since she usually slept during the day and didn't need to run around a lot. He loved watching her move around so freely, which she'd never been able to do before.

“I'm glad it helps her.” Silas seemed much more relaxed than he had been before. At least, he was relaxed until he looked up at the clock. “Geez, it's late. It's almost ten.” He looked at Matthew, but he didn't ask to go home.

“You should stay over.” Matthew didn't even have to think twice to make the offer. “I can't introduce you to the wonderful world of gaming until all hours of the night if you've got to go drive home afterward.”

Silas hesitated, visibly tempted. “I don't know. I don't have any of my stuff.”

“Borrow my stuff. Come on.” Matthew smiled his most flirtatious smile. “I have a very comfortable bed.”

Silas tipped his head to the side, considering. “I do have a weakness for comfortable beds.”

Matthew stepped into Silas's space, putting his hands on the other man's hips. “Stay?”

Silas nodded, looking into his eyes. “All right.”

---

Matthew dragged Silas over
to the couch before he could object. “Okay, then. Game time.”

Silas tried not to roll his eyes. He had thought they might move directly to sex again, which was his main hope for the evening. “I told you, I gave
Bump
a try.” He normally wouldn't even be entertaining the thought of gaming again, but Matthew was clearly set on teaching him, and he could at least play along. He sat down on the edge of the couch.

“You did it all wrong, though. No tutorial, jumping right in, not going to be fun for you.” Matthew went over to the wall and fiddled with something on the back of the television. It was a giant wall-mounted flat-screen, and the shelving units on each side were divided between different gaming consoles and shelves upon shelves of games. Silas recognized some of them: an Atari and an original Nintendo, both side by side with a black, curved box that might be the other gaming system that came out around the same time. Genesis, was it? A something Genesis. The rest were newer systems that he didn't recognize.

Matthew selected a small gray box from the shelf and held it up so Silas could see it. “All right. You never had one of these, so we need to start you with the classics.
Super Mario Brothers
.” Matthew blew out the dust from the game cartridge and inserted it, then started fishing around in one of the cabinets. “I thought about going way back to Atari, but
Tanks
is just going to piss you off. Nintendo is a good start.”

Silas rested his forearms on his knees. “I really wanted a classic Nintendo when I was a kid.”

Matthew looked over his shoulder. “This one? The classic? But that was already outdated when you were a kid.” He pulled two gray controllers out of the cabinet. “Bingo. Found 'em.”

Silas thought back to his childhood, the scant moments where he could steal some free time away from his responsibilities. “My friend Liz had one, though. Well, it was her older sister's. We were never allowed to play, but we used to watch her sister play. My parents told me these things were foolish.” He felt a jolt of sadness at the memory.

“And you've been reciting that same line all your life.” Matthew shook his head, turning on the console. The title screen came on as he joined Silas on the couch. “Here you go.” He handed him a controller. “I modded 'em so they're wireless.”

Silas turned the controller over in his hand. It felt bulkier than he'd imagined, and the square edges pressed uncomfortably into his palms. “Okay. I'm ready. Show me how everything works.”

Matthew clicked into two-player mode and started the game. “I'm going to play through the first level or two to refresh your memory, and then die on purpose so you can give it a try.”

Silas watched, picking up the game almost immediately from watching Matthew because it wasn't exactly difficult. Then it came time for him to try. It turned out to be much easier than he'd expected. He kept moving his hands and the controller to try to get Luigi to run faster, which Matthew found hilarious, but aside from that quirk, he thought he did quite well.

“Should I keep going?” he asked when he'd finished the level.

Matthew waved his hand in a “go on” gesture, an amused smirk on his face. “Please, have at it.”

Silas kept playing. He forgot his tiredness in the simple enjoyment of the game, the obvious goal and the tangible obstacles to be conquered, the point total in the corner increasing with each vanquished challenge. Occasionally, Matthew would offer some comments—which pipes led to a secret level, for instance—but generally he watched with amusement. Silas could feel his gaze, not watching the screen as much as watching him. Rather than feeling invasive, it felt enjoyable, like he was the center of attention, which he actually liked.

When he cleared another few levels, he was startled by Matthew's bark of laughter. “This is just fucking bullshit.” Matthew kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and leaned back, tossing his controller down onto the couch next to him. “You're a goddamn natural. I'm never going to get to play.”

Silas laughed back. He let his character hover at the menu screen for a while with the dancing palm trees all around, the repetitive music playing in the background. “I didn't ask to be good at this.” Silas shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant, but feeling more chipper than he had in weeks. “It is a pleasant diversion, though, I'll give you that.” He handed his controller to Matthew. “You want to play my guy for a while?”

“Nah, I don't want your pity gaming.” Matthew pushed the controller back to Silas, his face all smiles. “Go on. Play until you die, and then we'll try something else.”

Silas made it through three more levels before his character died mis-timing a jump across a lava field and falling into the lava. The screen returned to the main menu and Matthew's character, way back a few worlds away.

“Fucking finally.” Matthew rolled his eyes, but Silas could tell it was all mock drama. “You want to keep playing this, or try something else?”

“Well, what else is there?” Silas eyed the wall of games. “I haven't played any of these.”

Matthew let out a long exhale. “Well, whatever you want, really.” He got up off the couch and stretched. “You're not tired yet?”

Silas looked at the clock. It was almost midnight, but he felt wide awake and more alive than in quite some time. “Not even a little bit. Why, are you tired?” He didn't want to keep Matthew up.

“Nope, I'm a night owl, generally.” He strolled over to the row of games and picked out another cartridge. “Here we go.
Mortal Kombat.
And we're going to play the Sega Genesis version, because the Nintendo version took out all the blood.” He took the gray controllers away and returned with two black ones, also wireless, but with smoother edges that fit nicely in Silas's hand.

“I like these controllers.” Silas rubbed his hands over them. “They're easier to hold.”

Matthew snorted. “Yeah, Nintendo took longer to catch on to that than Sega did. Most people were either Nintendo or Sega, no crossing over, but I like everything.” He gestured at the wall. “As you can see from the collection.”

Silas could count several hundred games just in the first two shelves. “So you play all these?”

“Not anymore, no, but I collect them.” Matthew turned the system on and the game started to load. “You know, craigslist, eBay, garage sales, whatever. I love modern games, but you can't beat old school sometimes.” The dark red title screen appeared, gold letters in an archaic font spelling
MORTAL KOMBAT
across the large flat-screen television.

“How do I play?” Silas looked down at the controller in his hand.

“First you're going to choose your character, and then it's mostly button mashing.” Matthew started the game.

Silas got the hang of it soon enough, after Matthew's character killed his character in a few horrifying ways.

“Did you just rip off my head?” He looked at Matthew, incredulous, while Matthew laughed.

“Yep. Better get on it, or I'm going to do it again.”