TC left for a day shift early yesterday and by evening neither of us had bothered to call so I decided to go out. Out to my Asian bar.
Prof. Tim has warned me repeatly about Asians, but I’ve clearly warmed up to a certain type. Quiet, friendly but respectful perhaps even hesitant. I order a drink and within 30 seconds am chatting with a 24 yo Chinese fashion student. We end up talking for an hour. Exchanging telephone numbers, he’s interesting in going out tonight to the Village Drinks. All proper. No pawing. No double meaning conversation. I like that.
Leaving, I realize that TC has called my mobile phone 3 times. Not just my UK mobile, but my US one as well. Somethings up, I quickly call back. TC is home sick. “Where are you?” Out. “Out where?” In the city for drink. “Are you out at the Asian bar?” Maybe. “OK well I’m sick and going to bed”. I’m coming home. “Oh, you don’t have to, have a good time”. The slice on that last sentence dinging me.
At home, TC is in bed, sweating, hot, he’s clearly sick. From under the covers though comes a barrage of questions about my evening events. “Why are you being so evasive?”, TC sweetly asks, “you can do whatever you want”. Though that’s clearly not the truth.
Well I mother him the best I can, some soup and drugs. An hour later he perks up, comes out and is probably the most passionate he’s ever been, attacking me as I sit quietly on the sofa. His message clear, I don’t need to be looking for any other love than from him.