They'll Forgive Us

"Don't talk to me like I'm some sort of child, Howard, I'm not!" He was about to roll his eyes when he was informed, "And don't you dare roll your eyes at me. I know you, this is a serious conversation." He never tried to tell him otherwise, although he thought it. "When you roll your eyes it invalidates me." It did do that, although Howard thought Troy needed invalidating.

The argument had started like this: Howard made a joke. That's, at least, how he saw it. A harmless joke that he saw and then made. The joke was in reference to one of the side dishes Troy had prepared along with tonight's dinner, the mashed potatoes. There was talk of Howard's work at the construction site, and lumps in the potatoes, and how maybe he should get his hammer. It was a quick connection, and Howard was glad that he had made it.

"You make dinner then," was the only response he got, aside from a clinking of discarded silverware.

"Oh, you know I'm only joking," the typical rebuttal.

Troy hoped that his glass of red wine would help him relax. It did not. But why relax? Why move past it? No, he had an earnest question and he wanted an answer and he wanted it now.

"What do you have to gain?"

It was a moment before Howard realized that, yes, Troy was talking to him. There were no other strange men in the room. He put his fork down after it delivered those same potatoes to his mouth, and half-full it spoke, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what do you have to gain? From making a comment like that. This little joke of yours. Where were you hoping it would get you, what were you hoping it would accomplish?

Howard was dumbfounded. He didn't think to accomplish anything by it, other than to let off some steam. He wasn't sure what there was to be gained. "I... A laugh? I suppose?" It hurts when your day's work is overthrown by something as meager as a laugh, and when that order is given not by you, but by the recipient of your work. Only joking. Only. What a terrible word. What a horribly small word. What a devaluing word. Troy knew that this encompassed everything. He thought very well this could be the last supper they ever shared. He thought maybe, maybe he could've found it in his heart to forgive his Howard if the joke had been funny. If you're going to make a joke then at least make it funny! But it was easy, it was there, it was low-hanging and Howard had plucked it, and dropped it shortly afterward. And he knew the joke was small. With that word only, he proved it.

"Well neither of us fucking laughed did we?" It was rare for Troy to swear like this, hotheadedly, and at the dining table.

"Hey, take it easy! And watch that tone, I've had a hard day—"

Which is where we started. "When you roll your eyes it invalidates me."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Good!"

"I cared about your hard day, you know! I know how hard they've been lately. So I thought that I would do something nice. Did you say anything about the lamb? No. Did you notice how tender and juicy, how expensive it was? How new? It's a new recipe. I wanted to do something new, something exciting, something delicious for you, for us. When you have a hard day it's difficult and I understand that, that's fine, but the second you come home that hard day is over. It's in the past. The second you come home you have the chance to change it, you have the power. You can let that day, those nine or ten measly hours, ruin the rest of your night and mine, or you can decide that you're bigger than that. Or decide to ruin the one nice thing someone's done for you all day, the one thing someone who loves you did for you. Make him the fool, put the target on his back. Because, ha, apparently, I deserve it, because I'm here. Well."

Troy got up from the table and headed to the front door. Howard stopped him.

"We're cruelest to the ones we love the most. Because we know they'll forgive us."

They looked at each other for a silent moment and shared a kiss, knowing very well it could be their last.