Chapter 5: The Couch

Zack was sitting on the curb outside the bike shop at one in the morning.

A duffel sat between his boots, and his chin was in his hands.

He looked up, and his whole face split open.

"Ted."

Teddy didn't remember crossing the sidewalk.

He remembered the hockey shoulders against his chest and the smell of cold wool and pine soap.

A big hand on the back of his head held him there.

"You didn't tell me," Teddy said into his collar.

"I wanted to see your face."

"My face is crying."

"I see that." Zack was laughing, a rough crack of a laugh. "Hey. Hey, it's me."

They hadn't touched each other in a year.

Teddy pulled back and looked at him.

His black hair was longer than in the photos, and his brown eyes had shadows under them that had not been there in Duluth.

His nose was the one a defenseman had broken in tenth grade.

"You look tired."

"Engineering." Zack shrugged. "And you look skinny. Are you eating?"

"I'm a bartender."

"That's not an answer."

Teddy took the duffel and led him up the back stairs.

The apartment was dark, with Maddie's fan whirring behind her door.

He turned on the little lamp over the stove and Zack stood in the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, taking it in.

The counter, the stools, a drying rack with a single plate.

The thin black card beside the salt.

Zack's eyes caught on it and stayed there.

He didn't move at all.

"Whose is that?"

"A customer's." Teddy slid the card into the junk drawer, faster than he meant to. "Some guy left it. Do you want a beer?"

"Sure," Zack said, in an even voice, and let it go.

They sat on the couch in the front room with the beers and one lamp, shoulder to shoulder, with their knees touching.

Zack told him about his structures class and a professor who hated everyone.

Teddy told him about Mulligan's and Maddie's organic chemistry, and the pub's resident drunk who tipped in rolled quarters.

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