Aaron and Ken: Chapter 1

Ken licked the frosting seductively from the spoon in a slow, luxurious manner.. He took his time, savouring the sugary smooth creaminess. A tiny bit escaped and landed on the corner of his mouth. He paused, and then gently and deftly extended his tongue to get every last dollop. He put the spoon down, sighed, and gently bit into the moist, succulent cake

The mixture of frosting and cake was divine as the two textures fought for dominance in his mouth. He wanted to savour it, but his hunger was carnal. He bit into his slice again and again, consumed by a desire and yearning that the cake would only temporarily fill. And suddenly, but for a few crumbs, it was gone.

Ken sighed…should he have another slice? Or save it for when the hunger for something naughty struck again?

I watched from a chair at the kitchen table, bemused by the nature show playing out in front of me, the cake standing in as prey. I have to admit, I was tempted to join the hunt, as there was another slice of cake on the table, but I was satiated from the ribs that were served earlier. Humans are technically omnivores, but there was something about the juiciness and texture of meat that appeals to my baser nature. I glanced down, and saw some tangy BBQ sauce still coating my dark, mocha fingers. Hmmmm, would it be gauche to lick it off?  I furtively glanced around the apartment. Ken was looking for the remote. What the hell! Besides, if I got caught, Icould play it off as a compliment–“The sauce was so good, I had to get every drop”. 

I surreptitiously raised my fingers voraciously working free the stickiness with my tongue. Unlike Ken’s slow, languid movements, I did not have the luxury of time. My tongue darted and flicked around my fingers like a humming bird, coaxing every last bit of tangy goodness…while my pillowey soft lips delicately pursed around my finger, hoping to finish up my task before Iwas discovered, Too late…Ken was looking at me with a hint of bemusement and just a little bit of…shock? I drew himself up in pose of mock haughtiness and replied…”Well, if there’s anything else with BBQ sauce that I can suck on, let me know, but for now, my fingers will have to suffice.” I guffawed, and winked broadly, while feigning looking Ken up and down. I was proud that I was close enough to say something that louche. We laughed, and headed for the couch.

We both sat down on the couch, and were enveloped by the cushions. It was a comfortable piece of furniture, tailor made for long conversations, warm, full laughter, and the occasional tears of sadness and exuberance. In short, it was a couch for two friends to talk–the perfect intersection of form and function.

Ken still had the remote in his hands. Let me describe Ken to you. His hands were made for piano playing–long, graceful fingers which weren’t out of place on his lithe and lanky frame. He was tall but wore his height well. Unlike others who were tall and gangly, Ken moved as if all his parts were put together in perfect proportion. He always managed to look cerebral, as if hundreds of thoughts were running through his mind, fighting to get out, and all of them jumbled at the exit. 

There was a beauty with intellectual conversations with Ken…his thoughts would float and flit like a butterfly in a meadow filled with flowers. Touching here, moving there, making connections that would turn your head with the complexity of it all. But at the core, Ken was a decent guy, who sometimes seemed too fragile for the harshness of the world.

I sat at the other end of the couch. I’m Aaron. I’m a heavy set guy, my bulk and stature reinforcing the presence I bring with me when I enter a room.  With my completely bald head, I look meaner than I generally am, but my comportment could match my countenance if pushed too far. I’m cerebral like Ken too, but have the advantage of not looking like it until I open up and let my musings and thoughts march into the world. And when that happens, watch out. People often made the error of conflating my bulk and physical slowness with a lack of mental acuity. If one does that with me, I will make you pay. Dearly. And will have fun in doing so.

A conversation with me is like dodging a sharpshooter firing a rifle. The beauty (and dare I say fear) lays in the precision, accuracy, and my unerring ability to find the target of illogic and destroy it. It’s a beauty born of efficiency, directness and ruthlessness–like a shiv making an appearance in the belly of a prisoner.  One never knows exactly when my ammunition of logic would strike, but one does know that if I’m being serious, the ammo would come fast and furious, and it could come at any time. But at my heart, I have a passionate and tender core, which belies the heavy artillery I possess.

I turned on the couch and gazed thoughtfully and intently at Ken. “So…I began. Ken grimaced inwardly. Ken knows when I start off with that particular word, it was a sign that I’m going to skip the small talk and head straight to the meat of the conversation, whatever it was.

I laughed heartily, as I have an unerring ability to sense what people were feeling, but I have to admit that my  laughter died down as I realized this was going to be a life changing conversation. I looked into Ken’s quizzical eyes, and swallowed hard. Despite my  best efforts, I was nervous, and I didn’t want to be. I had planned this out in the confines of home for hours. Hopefully it wasn’t going to be all for naught..

Ken looked at me, worried and a bit confused. He knows my skill is the ability to get to heart of the matter instantaneously without worrying about the reaction and fallout. And yet, Ken detected an expression on my face he’d never seen before. Was it? Could it be? Fear? No, it wasn’t fear. I don’t show fear. But I was nervous   It was the face of a man who was rattled and unsettled. Me rattled–my God, Ken looked at me as if he was thinking, “What are you going to say?”

All through my life, I had a plan. Things were planned. Flow chart, military precision planned. Every option and every potential choice had a Plan A through Z attached. Every contingency was  thought out, as much as my life afforded me the ability to plan out for every contingency. But today, all of that went out the window. Much to the my amazement of myself and Ken, I leaned in….

To be continued…