Mark's surprise at seeing Keith was written plainly on his face. He had been very concerned that he had been unable to reach Keith over the last few days. Although they had often gone days or even a week without seeing each other, in the last six months, rarely had they gone more than a day without speaking. Seeing Mark brought on a flood of emotion Keith wasn’t expecting.
“Heavens to Mary!” Mark exclaimed as he moved close to kiss Keith on the cheek.
“Hi,” he replied both fatigued and worried.
“Is everything alright? I’ve been trying to call you.” Shame shadowed Keith's face as he looked into Mark's eyes.
"Can I come in?”
“Oh dear me, of course!” Mark said, hurrying to step aside so that Keith could come inside.
Keith entered the house and once again found himself admiring the home’s beauty. The foyer was painted in rich tones of mocha and taupe and was decorated with lovely pictures framed in cherry and mahogany wood. Mark’s interior decorations were impeccable. The foyer was wide with a vaulted ceiling and paintings from various French artists lined the walls. Once inside, a stunning 1740 Lyonnais Armoire stood regally against the wall in the living room. It was one of Mark’s most prized possessions that had been handed down from generation to generation. On the other wall, and equally as stunning was a 1910 Nowak “nouveau” writing desk and matching chair. The two antique pieces finely accessorized the taupe, micro-fiber couch and cherry wood coffee table. In the center of the back wall were beautiful, richly stained French doors that opened to expose a covered patio that Mark turned into an outside sitting room. Keith always felt very warm and welcome when he came to stay with Mark.
“Keith, honey? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Mark’s brows furrowed with concern as he attempted to guess why Keith hadn’t said anything more than things weren’t alright.
“I’m sorry..." Keith apologized and leaned in to kiss Mark's cheek. "I have so much on my mind I just don’t know where to start.”
He wanted to reassure Mark, but found that losing his thoughts on the furniture was another subconscious attempt to delay the conversation. As though Mark had picked up on his mental anguish, he put his hand over Keith’s and spoke softly.
“Let me put some tea on, and we’ll sit while you tell me all about it.”
Before Keith could respond, Mark disappeared into the kitchen to boil water for tea.
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