Shoulder Season Read online

  HALLGRIMSKIRKJA CHURCH was tall and glowy white on the outside, and on the inside, the sun shone through the clear glass windows like a baptism of snow. Ben couldn’t imagine it was an accident that the structure resembled something that had been carved out of a tall stack of ice. But instead of feeling cold, the inside had a sense of space and warmth, and, as he was becoming familiar with, a sense of peace. A few tourists were wandering around, craning their necks to look up at the tall ceiling, and toward the front, an older gentleman was quietly playing the pipe organ. The whole of it had a gentle air, and Ben was content to sit in a pew toward the back and just be.

  Beside him in the pew, Solvin leaned back with his cane held to one side, and he looked a little tired.

  “Do you want to go?” asked Ben, as he leaned forward, his voice hushed, as though he was whispering words of affection in Solvin’s ear.

  “Are you fussing?” asked Solvin, equally low.

  “Yes,” said Ben. He sat back and puffed his chest as though he was proud of this fact.

  This made Solvin smile, and Ben smiled in return. Alan adored it when Ben fussed but never seemed to have the time to take care of Ben in return, so if Ben had a cold, or even that one time when he was fighting off the flu, Alan simply didn’t come over. Ben had a feeling that with Solvin, the situation would be different, that if Ben was sick or out of sorts, Solvin would be there for him, though why he was thinking like this, he didn’t know. He’d just met Solvin, who was a kindly Icelander showing Ben around his beloved city of Reykjavik, and that was all.

  “It’s named after a poet, you know,” said Solvin.

  “What?” asked Ben, and it was then he realized he’d been staring at Solvin.

  “The church, it’s named after Iceland’s most beloved poet, Hallgrímur Pétursson,” said Solvin. He turned to look at Ben, sitting up a bit, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “And it was designed so that it could also serve as a radio tower.”

  “Really?” asked Ben, though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised Icelanders would be so practical as to create a church with multiple functions. “It feels a little like being inside a glacier.”

  “That’s how you’re supposed to feel,” said Solvin, and he seemed to like it that Ben understood that. “Glaciers move slowly, and when inside of this church, I always want to slow down, though—”

  Solvin stopped and reached for the cane to roll it between his hands.

  “Sometimes,” he said, looking at the cane and not at Ben. “Sometimes, not everything has to move as slowly as a glacier.”

  Ben was about to ask what didn’t have to move as slowly as a glacier, and the look Solvin gave him was not what he was expecting. There was an openness in Solvin’s expression, one that had the easy candor of all the Icelanders Ben had met but also something deep and slow, a message meant for Ben alone. It was as though Solvin was putting it out there, not all of it, but a good corner of it, that he liked Ben, liked being with him, and wanted to keep doing it.

  Of course all of this could be in Ben’s imagination, and either Solvin wasn’t saying anything like that, or he was asking for a quick tumble between the sheets before Ben had to head back to the States. But he didn’t know, and a feeling of panic made him hot beneath his Icelandic sweater because sometimes Alan had behaved as if he thought Ben should be able to read Alan’s mind and know exactly what Alan wanted. Solvin didn’t seem that sort of guy, and besides, being honest had worked before. Maybe it would work again.

  “Something like what’s happening between you and me?” asked Ben, perhaps too quickly, but then his heart was racing.

  To his surprise, Solvin blushed red all the way down his neck; even his ears were pink.

  “I am too forward and really not up to much.” Solvin yanked the cane to one side and winced as if he’d moved his shoulder too fast. “But I really like being with you. And I like seeing Iceland through your eyes. You’re making me think differently about my country.”

  All at once Ben felt a unique sense of joy expand inside of him because Solvin liked him, and because Solvin found in Ben something to be treasured. All of this was a far cry from the way Alan made him feel, but Ben shoved those thoughts away—not down, but up and out, into the lofty ceiling of the church where they could be carried away by fresh Arctic winds. He didn’t need to think about Alan, and he didn’t need to feel the way Alan had made him feel. He could do something different because with Solvin it felt different. It felt… yes, it felt nice. He needed to tell Solvin this, even if he fumbled it.

  “I like being with you,” said Ben. “Everything here seems clean and open, and I know there has to be a snake in the grass somewhere, but I like it here. I was just going to have lunch and then maybe catch a red-eye home, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad you knocked.”

  “So you don’t feel like I’m pigging you?” asked Solvin, and there was humor lurking beneath the question that Ben raced to meet.

  “Nope,” said Ben in a serious way, as if anything less would have been beneath his dignity. “I will let you know when you are pigging me.”

  Then he smiled and felt the smile go all the way through him in a way it hadn’t since he didn’t know when. Being with Solvin was like a gift, and even if it ended, he would remember this moment, remember the quiet acceptance in Solvin’s eyes and the way he leaned toward Ben just a fraction, doing it because he wanted to.

  At the same time, Solvin did look tired, so maybe they should get that taxi now.

  “Should we go outside and call a taxi?” asked Ben.

  “Only if we tell the driver to take us past Solfar before taking us back home,” said Solvin.

  “The what?” asked Ben. He’d been so unprepared for Iceland and all the spots tourists frequented it wasn’t even funny, though Solvin seemed to enjoy being asked.

  “It’s the sculpture of the boat,” said Solvin. “You know, the one that’s in all the pictures. It’s called the Sun Voyager in English and represents a boat that can take you to new territories or to your dreams. Do you want to see it?”

  “I want you to show it to me,” said Ben, and for some strange reason, he felt a lump in his throat because now the thought of not seeing it with Solvin would be a loss he would feel for a long time.

  “That’s good,” said Solvin as he stood up and limped a bit to match his cane to his stride as they started out of the church. “Because today is sunny and tomorrow it rains, so it is best to see it in the sunlight.”

  “I guess it rains a lot here,” said Ben. He walked a little ahead of Solvin so he could open the door for him. Then he stood and held the door for a group of Japanese tourists, all of whom dipped their heads to thank him as they went past. When he could finally shut the tall door behind him, Solvin was waiting in the sunshine with his cell phone to his ear as he talked in Icelandic. Ben went up to him and waited at his side, squinting a little in the bright air, feeling the crisp breeze across his face and feeling downright cozy inside of his sweater.

  “He says one is already on the way,” said Solvin as he tapped the phone off and put it in his back pocket.

  “Are you good to stand?” asked Ben. He looked behind him to see if there was a bench Solvin could sit on, but there wasn’t, only the wide-open courtyard that was as expansive as the blue sky above them.

  “Yes,” said Solvin. “Anyway, here it comes.” He gestured with his hand at the taxi that was pulling up next to the sidewalk. Solvin waved at it, gripped his cane, and he and Solvin walked over to the taxi.

  “What’s the sculpture called again?” asked Ben as he opened the door for Solvin. Solvin gave him a smile as he clambered in. When Ben was settled beside him, Solvin asked a question in Icelandic, and the taxi driver answered, and off they went, down the placid streets of Reykjavik.

  “It’s called the Sun Voyager, the boat of dreams,” said Solvin, and he looked at Ben as he said it. “It represents hope and new beginnings.”

  New beginnings seemed to be what Ice
land had become for Ben, a country where he could start as he meant to go on and where every conversation didn’t end in an argument, and cups of coffee could be drunk in a casual way, with no need to rush off afterward. He settled back in his seat, and when his hand touched Solvin’s thigh, he left it in place and brushed the backs of his fingers along the material of Solvin’s jeans. Not only did Solvin not move away or push Ben’s hand off, he dipped his head and smiled at Ben as though they shared a secret the taxi driver didn’t need to know about.

  All the way through town, Ben left his hand there, looked at the blush on Solvin’s cheeks, and thought about new beginnings.

  THE DRIVE through Reykjavik was nice in a quiet way. Solvin pointed out various landmarks as they drove to the sculpture. There the driver parked the taxi and seemed willing to wait as Solvin and Ben got out and crossed the long strip of blacktopped parking lot to the curved portion of the headland to where the sculpture was. Ben was a little surprised but not at all disappointed as Solvin moved close and hooked his elbow with Ben’s. It was a pleasant sensation that should not have felt as surprising and new as it did, but the thing was Solvin didn’t make a big deal out of it, just hobbled a bit with his cane in his right hand and Ben supporting him (though only a little) on his left.

  Ben looked at Solvin out of the corner of his eye and found Solvin was looking back at him. It was as if they were checking to make sure what they were doing was okay, and it was more than okay. It put Ben in contact with Solvin all up and down his right side; he could smell the faint trace of soap on Solvin’s skin and see up close the drift of eyelashes across his cheeks. He could study this person he’d only recently met and did not let himself worry about it because this was where he was now, and it felt right to be there.

  As they were in the north part of the city, the sculpture overlooked a large body of water over which the wind ruffled. The sky was turning fetching shades of blue and peach through the growing clouds as the sun went lower in the horizon.

  “What water is that?” asked Ben. “Is it the North Sea?”

  “It’s called Faxa Bay, and beyond that is the North Atlantic.” Solvin turned toward Ben, dropped his arm, and clasped Ben’s hand.

  “It’s a bit brisk,” said Ben as he tightened his fingers around Solvin’s.

  “That’s because the sun’s going to go down in another hour or so.”

  As Solvin turned his face to the horizon, over the water the lines of color started to deepen. If they stayed out to watch the sunset, it would be beautiful, Ben could already tell. However, without any hat to wear, even in his new Icelandic sweater, it was starting to get chilly. Which couldn’t be good for Solvin’s ankle, even if he wasn’t complaining about it.

  “This is beautiful,” said Ben. “I’ve looked at pictures online, but they don’t really capture it, do they?”

  “No,” said Solvin. “I live here, and I still think our sunsets are the most beautiful in the world.”

  Ben’s mind began to search for something to say, either funny or observant, but nothing came. With Alan, he would have felt like he had to say something to mark the moment, but now, with Solvin, he didn’t. Instead he was happy just to be where he was, looking at the curved metal outline of a ship that suggested movement and possibility all at once. And happy to be with Solvin holding hands in an old-fashioned way that felt exactly right.

  When Solvin tugged on Ben’s hand, Ben dipped his head close so he could hear what he had to say.

  “Can I pig you some more?” asked Solvin, and he must have realized it came out half-joking and half rude, for his cheeks reddened and he laughed deep in his throat.

  “Yes,” said Ben with a little laugh in return. “Yes, you may, and in fact, I wish you would.”

  “I didn’t bring my pain pills with me, so maybe we could go back and have dinner in my apartment?” He dipped his head and looked up at Ben through his lashes in a sweet, flirty way that made Ben’s heart jump.

  “What’s for dinner?” asked Ben, though really, what he wanted to be asking was entirely different than something so mundane. He wanted to know if it would be all right if he held Solvin close with his arms wrapped around his waist so he could bury his face in Solvin’s neck and just have them stay that way for a long, long time. It would be so nice, so, so nice.

  “Soup and toast,” said Solvin. “I’ve got eggs too—well, you saw my groceries. I also have some Einstock beer in the fridge. Though I’m not supposed to have if I’m taking pain meds, which I really need right about now.”

  “That sounds perfect,” said Ben. He was looking at Solvin as he said it and hoped Solvin understood what Ben wasn’t quite able to say. Maybe this would be one of those things people did while on vacation, to have an affair with no strings attached. Ben wasn’t like that, something Alan had made fun of, but this felt different; plus he was getting tired of comparing Solvin to Alan all the time. “I make a mean French omelet, if you’d care to try one.”

  “Yes,” said Solvin quite firmly. “Yes, I would.”

  It sounded like a vow, though Ben didn’t let himself read into it. Solvin wanted to try his omelet, take his pain meds, and then they’d have a quiet beer together. After that, well, Ben couldn’t see the future, except that it looked pretty good from where he was standing.

  SOLVIN’S LITTLE apartment made a warm, snug harbor after the chilly wind that had sprung up as they stepped out from the taxi. Solvin took care of the driver, and after explaining to Ben that he didn’t owe him anything for the fare, as his company had given him a taxi pass, they unlocked the door and shed their coats and sweaters in the quiet darkness before Solvin flipped on the lights.

  “Okay, I’m tired,” said Solvin, though he sounded a little chagrined to have to admit it. “My pills are on the counter—I’m just going to sit down if that’s okay.”

  In the kitchen, now more familiar, Ben got Solvin a glass of water and brought it over with the two bottles of pills. As Solvin swallowed his pain meds, Ben took the cane and leaned it on the end of the couch so Solvin didn’t have to worry about it.

  “How about those beers now?” asked Solvin. “Or maybe I shouldn’t have one.”

  “You look like you could use one, though maybe just half of one,” said Ben without adding that Solvin had overdone it, as that was obvious to both of them. Besides, giving Solvin a hard time was the last thing he wanted to do. “Are they in the fridge?”

  At Solvin’s nod, Ben made himself at home, getting out two beers and two tall thick-rimmed glasses. After a few drawer pulls, Ben found what looked like a bottle opener. Once more at Solvin’s side on the couch, Ben opened the bottles and poured out the beers slowly, with the glasses tilted at an angle to keep down the foam. Except Icelandic beer didn’t have much foam to begin with, so Ben felt like a superstar as he handed the no-foam beer to Solvin.

  Solvin tipped his glass of beer at Ben, and Ben tilted his back, and as they clinked their glasses together, they shared a smile between them. It was reminiscent of the smiles Ben and Alan had exchanged in their first days together, those heady getting-to-know you days when Ben was so completely bamboozled by Alan that he ignored all the warning signs— Nope, he wasn’t going to do this anymore, he’d promised himself. Besides, Solvin deserved better than to have Ben thinking of somebody else when they were together.

  “I could make you something to eat,” said Ben, remembering his promise.

  “Just sit with me awhile, yes?” asked Solvin. He reached over Ben to the little side table and picked up the remote to turn on the TV, which was new and slender and bolted into the wall.

  Ben fully expected something to come on with what to him would be unintelligible Icelandic, except maybe a word or two, but what showed on the screen was definitely in English.

  “I like British crime dramas,” said Solvin as he looked at Ben.

  Maybe there was an expression there that told Ben that Solvin expected to be laughed at for this. Ben just shook his head and leaned ba
ck on the couch to watch the show unfurl in front of him on the screen with the muted gray colors of the English countryside and British accents and the quick pace of crime. It was good to be still and doing something familiar, drinking a nice cold beer without having to think of much of anything.

  After a while Solvin leaned over to put his beer on the side table, and as he returned to his place on the couch, it seemed he was closer to Ben now, his shoulder dipping down as if it expected quite soon to be fitting itself to the curves of Ben’s body. Responding to the silent request, Ben lifted his arm and gestured with his hand that, yes, Solvin should move closer. And this Solvin did with a little sigh as he tucked himself within the curve of Ben’s arm, with his head in the hollow of Ben’s shoulder.

  “Better?” asked Ben. His voice came out a little high-pitched, but his pleasure at the trusting gesture moved him beyond his ability to keep cool about it.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Solvin very quietly.

  Ben looked down and saw Solvin’s face was relaxing, and his body was warm and still against Ben’s. Both the beer and the pain meds were kicking in, then.

  “I’ll make you that omelet as soon as this show is over, okay?” asked Ben.

  Solvin nodded against him, and in that small movement, Ben felt the power of trust coming from Solvin, a heady feeling when mixed with the warmth of Solvin’s body, the traces of fresh sea air in his hair and on his skin. He was just about to kiss the top of Solvin’s blond head when Solvin turned toward him and slipped his arm behind Ben’s waist. Ben, warm all over, felt tingles up his spine and the tightness of his jeans as his cock began to stand at attention. It would have been easy to push Solvin on his back on the couch and to start kissing his neck and undoing whatever clothes were in the way of Ben’s hands and Solvin’s skin, but Ben clamped his jaw tight and sat very still.