Chapter 1
Marc rarely slept through the morning. After about 5 am, any number of things would make him bolt upright in bed, and then, there’d be no going back to sleep.That particular morning, it was a notification that his girlfriend’s plane was safely in the air.
LHR to BOS - Departed Gate
Miriam had texted him when she’d boarded, but the British Airways notification made his heart race. She was really, truly, on her way.
Glancing at the clock, seeing it was barely after five, he wished he hadn’t looked. He was exhausted somewhere too deep to name. Somewhere that coffee wouldn’t touch, and naps couldn’t keep at bay, yet his body could reach to remind him of how much he seriously needed to rest.
The only reason he wasn’t sore about being up too early was the near-delirium that it would be hours until he saw them again. Miriam first, she was flying in that afternoon, but his boyfriend, Davey, would be coming in on Sunday and they’d stay with him the rest of the week. He wasn’t even a little bit embarrassed by how excited he was that he’d get to see them. It was only for a few days, but it filled him with a kind of anticipation that fatigue was never going to reach.
Marc stripped the bed as soon as he was up. He always changed the sheets on Friday mornings, but he would have done it regardless, to be a good host if nothing else. It was funny, when they’d lived together, sheets didn’t stay on the bed longer than a couple of days. Nothing ever stayed totally neat or full, and it was crowded, but it felt alive because of it. The Friday routine was necessary because for most of the year, he’d been living alone. Miriam was in London, wrapping up a post-bac. Davey was in LA wrapping up his MBA, but they’d be moving back to Boston soon enough.
He tossed the old sheets down the stairs in a wad, his eye catching on the table that normally sat empty next to the banister. Sometimes, it had library books he meant to return, but today it had a stack of jewelry dishes. Marc normally put them in the bathrooms, kitchen, and at least one in their living room. Inevitably he’d still find Miri’s necklaces or earrings on a bookshelf or a pocket somewhere. Davey was just as bad, leaving glasses on any safe, flat surface he might be near when he’d get too annoyed that they were smudged and just take them off.
It was the kind of thing he knew he was supposed to find annoying in both of them, but Marc loved it. He loved having a physical reminder that they’d actually been there and, more importantly, that they felt at home.
On his list of things to do, near the top, was to email the builders. Davey and Miri would want to swing by the new house at some point, so he should let the contractors know so that they wouldn’t be surprised. It was nearly done, cabinets were going in, after that, it was just fixtures and inspections and waiting for inspections, but he couldn’t wait. He hadn’t lived with them since June, and this was a first stab at their dream home. He wanted them to like it. He also just wanted them home so badly that most of the time, he didn’t know how to acknowledge that to himself.
This morning, though, it was fine, he told himself. He could count the hours until he saw Miriam and Davey and have that be a real, tangible number. The thought made him smile as he got dressed. Time itself wasn’t tangible; you just saw its effects. Numbers weren’t tangible either. Jesus, he was tired.
The last thing he really had to do was make saline. He’d done it about a billion times, but he still pulled out the notecard that Al had drawn up for him with the recipe. The powders were in tiny lab bottles that he kept in a box in the pantry, and he got them, the thick glass bottles, and the cylinder, and in minutes, his kitchen island looked and felt like a chemistry lab. If Al were there, she’d give him a hard time about not wearing goggles, but they were all the way in the garage, and he was playing with salt. It’d be fine.
Marc made the saline like he normally cooked, moving everything from right to left as he added the powders to the bottles. First, the sodiums, it only seemed fair since they’d gotten naming credit in the final product. Then the potassiums because…he didn’t have a reason, he’d just always done the sodiums first.
He was making three liters, which should be more than enough for a week’s worth of enemas, but really, he just didn’t want to run out. He still had some from before, but sterilizing the stuff took hours, and the idea that there could be a sex thing that either of them would want to do and to be caught without having—no. The thought was too mortifying. He’d prepped everything else. He’d taken time off from work, gone through a billion emails. He’d also cleaned out the fridge, washed all the cushions on the property, and watered all the plants so he wouldn’t have to think about it. He’d gone to the stupid salon, which he hated, on Monday, so that the only hairs on his body were in acceptable places.
He’d hated going to salons, or spas for that matter, for as long as he’d been aware of them. It wasn’t as bad when Miri or Davey were there because they enjoyed it, but he’d prefer it if they just went without him. He did like going with Al, but that’s because she hated it more than he did, so he just got to poke fun at her for a few hours, which was pretty entertaining.
Marc didn’t like thinking about missing her, but it was hard not to when he was measuring sterile water into the measuring cylinder following the recipe she’d written out for him. She wasn’t dead or anything. They just hadn’t talked in a few years, and maybe that was for the best.
Marc heard the front door being unlocked a second before his best friend’s voice wafted through the house.
“Hey, are you up?”
“Kitchen,” Marc said, glancing at the clock. It was barely six. Zach was never up this early. They’d lived together in one form or another for most of their adult lives, and the only reason he’d be up is that he had to be.
When Zach came into the kitchen, he was clearly getting ready to go somewhere. He was already caffeinated and dressed, and he was holding a hotel pan full of something or other that he wanted Marc to take care of for him.
“Do you have strong feelings about carrots?” Zach asked.
“Ah, no, why? Do you?”
“No, well, I’m going out of town to see Nate, and I don’t want them to go bad. Can you take them?”
Carrots will keep in your fridge for a month, Zach. So, you’re good, just don’t leave them out,” Marc said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t mind the interruption, although he wondered why Zach hadn’t just Googled it on his own.
“Fine,” he groaned.
Marc smiled to himself, remembering how Zach had stumbled onto a “healthy” carrot bread recipe and had decided to order the ingredients from the gym so that they’d be ready when he got home. He’d meant to order three to five carrots. He’d ordered three 5-pound bags of carrots. Marc had told him to check the quantities, having learned that lesson during Covid when he’d accidentally bought nine pounds of lemons. Zach had insisted he’d checked, yet here he was.
“What are you doing?” Zach asked.
“Making saline,” Marc said, scribbling down the weight of the powder he’d been measuring because he knew the scale would go to sleep.
“For what? Are you going to be having an IV party while I’m gone?”
“For enemas, Zach. It takes a couple of hours to autoclave, and I’m just trying to get everything ready for the visit."
“How long are they here for this time?” Zach asked.
“Just a week.”
Zach pointedly eyeballed the bottles, clearly adding up that Marc was making about three liters of the stuff. “Isn’t that kind of a lot?”
“It’ll be sterile, so if it’s too much, I’ll just have extra,” Marc said.
If it were for the three of them, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but almost all of it was for Marc, and he knew that was definitely excessive. However, Miriam was a horny little minx, which is part of what Marc loved about her, and Davey was well-endowed enough that he had to clean up before sex. Otherwise, it would be a horror show.
“Fair enough,” Zach said.
“Uh, what are you and Nate gonna do?”
“Don’t know, he has class, so I’ll probably be studying during the day. On Sunday, we’re meeting up with Xavi, Evan, and the rest of the gang for brunch. Probably catch up with Al sometime while I’m there.
Al lived blocks away from Nate in Princeton, which meant that Zach still talked to her, partially because she was so close, partially so that Marc wouldn’t have to. “How is she? Do you know?”
“Okay. Good. Graduating soon, I think. I can ask her to call you while I’m there.”
“Ah, I’m good,” Marc said, trying to keep himself from wincing. For years, he’d taken care of himself so as to be able to keep up with her. Running or gym first thing in the morning, studying, not eating like crap even—especially when he wanted to. She didn’t make him do anything, but he always felt a little embarrassed with her when he wasn’t doing what he knew he was supposed to be doing. He knew that if he told her what this year had been like for him, she’d get in his face for not taking better care of himself, or not making enough time to sleep, or both.
“Are you sure?” Zach asked, tilting his head.
“Yeah. I don’t need a lecture on sleep hygiene.”
“I don’t know, the fact that your mind went there…maybe you do.”
Marc chuckled and shook his head. “Really, I’m good.”
He wasn’t. He knew that. The circles under his eyes told him that every single time he looked in the mirror, and the way in which his clothes were a tad too loose confirmed it. It wasn’t a big deal, though. The year was almost over, and he had a job offer already at the university. It was contingent on his thesis being approved, but that was out of his hands now.
“Well, fine, but I’m just saying, you’re going to have to make eye contact with her eventually, even if it’s at my bachelor party.”
“Why would she be there?” he asked, looking at Zach sharply.
He just shrugged and leaned against the island. “Because she’s either going to be in my party or Nate’s. And as far as I’m concerned, I’ve known her longer, so I win. Duh. And you’re already going to have to be my best man, so get ready to suck it up.”
“You have to get engaged first,” Marc said. “I’ve got time.”
“Fine, keep drawing it out. I don’t care,” Zach said, rolling his eyes.
Marc chuckled, lurched away from the counter, and grabbed his water to give himself time to come up with the next thing to ask about. “How long are you going to be there?”
“A week,” Zach said. “Ooh, which reminds me, do you mind running my car while I’m gone so the battery doesn’t die?”
Marc nodded. If they decided to do a party, it was usually easier to just have Davey take his car and have Marc use Zach’s so that they could divide and conquer to get supplies. He he wasn’t sure if they’d do that, but it was always better to ask. “Actually, I might need to borrow it. Would that be okay?”
“Even better,” he said. “Thanks."
“Sure thing,” Marc said. “Um, anything else? Plant watering.”
“Nope, I got those this morning,” Zach said. “Uh, say ‘hi’ to Dave and Miri for me?”
“Will do.” He wanted to tell him to say ‘hi’ to their friends from school, but he’d see them in a month when he and Zach would host the year-end barbecue.
When Zach left, Marc turned back to the powder he still had to measure out as he tried not to think about what Zach said about bachelor parties. He’d proposed to Miriam and Dave over a year ago without a real plan for how it would work, just knowing that he knew what he wanted and he was tired of not doing anything about it.
He finished the last two bottles quickly, topping them off before capping and shaking them so everything would dissolve. All the powders and the water were sterile or food grade, which was probably good enough for butts, but he still taped the caps, loosened them up, and brought them to the autoclave he had in the laundry closet.
He took out a tray of sex toys that he hadn’t seen since their last visit and set the bottles inside so that they’d be sterile and cooled down enough to put away later. The fist-sized butt plug made him blush as he remembered struggling with it, and then the look on Davey’s face when he’d eased it out of him. He didn’t like to think about how rare that look was, but it would make the salon trip worth it, he thought.
Miriam was a different story altogether. Her libido ran circles around his, but Marc didn’t usually mind. He loved getting her off, and luckily, she didn’t seem to mind if he got inventive about how, just that he was thorough about it. When both of them were home, Davey helped, but Marc was about to have a few days alone with her, which meant that as much as he’d want to just cradle her and love her and soak her up, that wasn’t gonna cut it. He also loved that about her, that she was horny and impatient and demanding. It meant that when he got things right, he could feel really good about it, and he hadn’t gotten things right with her at the start of their visits in a long time.
He’d have to think about it, but he had hours before he’d get to see her, and Marc knew that it would boil down to actually acting on his horny whims, even if he felt like it was a waste of her time. She enjoyed herself, and he should be happy about that.
The alarm on his watch snapped him back to what he was supposed to be doing, which was scurrying to school to enter the last batch of grades before his lectures.
Marc hurriedly turned on the autoclave and left the tray on the table. Some things would stay downstairs with the other party supplies, other things were just for them, and he’d sort them later. Besides, they were in sealed, sterile envelopes. It’d be fine.
The powders and tools went back into the pantry, and Marc hurriedly slung his bookbag over his shoulder as he went out to the garage. He had hours and about a billion things to check off on his school and work list, and lingering in the house wasn’t going to get him through that any faster.
Marc knew better than to plan and drive so he put on a podcast and tried not to think about his day even though every time he glanced at the clock he inadvertently did the math to when she’d land.Only having hours to wrap up days worth of work had never sounded so good.