Wednesday's Child
Ilya Kovalchuk / Jordin
Tootoo
Bernie
This is a work of fiction
"So, you're all noble
and Indian right?" Ilya rolls on his back and scratches at the come drying
on his thighs. "What would my Indian name be?"
"First Nations."
Jordin rolled off the bed and padded heavily to the bathroom wiping his mouth
on his arm. "What would my Russian name be?"
Ilya shrugs, like it
matters, he was just trying to make conversation. "Something about cloudy
days."
"You think I'm a
cloudy person?"
Ilya grins at the ceiling;
Jordin always wants the last word.
"WellÉ Whenever we
fuck, it's raining."
"You're so full of
shit Ilya." Jordin laughs in a particularly humourless fashion.
"Whenever we fuck it's a Wednesday, did you know that?"
Ilya stares at the bathroom
door that Jordin has walked thorough.
"Is not!" he
calls, considering.
Ilya wraps a towel from the
floor, sticky and crusted over and fucking nasty really, and opens the door to
the verandah a little. The city is hot and filthy like breathing in dishwater.
Humidly is something like one hundred and twenty per cent.
To hot to go out, and to
hot to sleep, unless something exhausts himÉ Ilya looks over his shoulder and
dropping the towel walks over to watch Jordin cleaning up. Again.
"Ok, It may as well be
Wednesday." Ilya arranges himself against the doorframe, crossing his arms
and smirking. "Wednesday evening, and at midnight it becomes Wednesday
morning."
Jordin wipes the toothpaste
off his lips and meets Ilya's eyes in the mirror.
"What are you talking
about?"
"I have decided to
agree with you." Ilya waves his arms as expansively as the bathroom will
allow. "Every time we fuck it is Wednesday."
"It's not like you to
say I am right." Jordin's lips twitch as he tries to keep a straight face.
"Well, it is Wednesday." Ilya grins without trying to hide it at all.
"Everything is possible on a Wednesday."
Jordin shrugs, considering.
"All right then."
He steps into Ilya keeping
walking forward until they are chest to chest and keeps walking, Ilya stepping
backwards until he falls back on the bed. And Jordin just keeps walking
forward, crawling up his body, settling against his chest and staring at Ilya.
Once again Ilya is amazed
how Jordin covers him, despite being shorter. Once again he is amazed that they
are both hard and once again have missed the opportunity to talk. Less amazed
by that, more, relieved.
Jordin opens his mouth and
Ilya rocks his hips up. And every time it looks like Jordin is going to talk
Ilya presses their hips together.
When Jordin licks his lips
and looks like he is preparing to recite his version of the practiced speech -
Ilya has one as well – Ilya drops his hands down onto his ass and rubs
their hips together back and forward until they are beyond talking.
Jordin plants his feet on
the floor and pushes down with as much force as Ilya is pushing up.
"Yeah." Jordin
moans digging his fingers into Ilya's shoulders trying to keep his balance.
"Yeah I know."
Ilya mumbles back, bracing his hands against the bed.
"Yeah." Jordin
whispers.
"I know." Ilya
closes his eyes feeling Jordin shake and collapse against him.
For a moment, Ilya watches
the bedside clock turning from thirty-five to thirty-six to thirty-seven on
this Wednesday afternoon, stroking
Jordin's hair until his occasional lover wriggles off him and walks back to the
bathroom. Again. There will be no keeping him again, it's getting dark and Ilya
knows that he has a meeting, or maybe dinner with a family member planned.
There is always something,
some reason why they have to leave at a certain time. Ilya himself made up a
business dinner with some skate people? Stick people? Ilya rolls onto his back
drops his arm over his eyes to stop looking at the clock. He forgets now, some
kind of stake people he is pretty sure. If Jordin brings it he'll just say
equipmentÉ and he won't bring it up because Jordin obviously plans on walking
purposefully out of the room without looking back.
Ilya cracks open one eyelid
when the door doesn't open and watches Jordin pull on a shirt.
"Leaving so
soon?"
Jordin's eyes flash and
then go dull. "Whatever. I have dinner to go to."
"Of course, and I have
a meeting." Ilya makes no motion to move and stares at Jordin. "I'll
pay when I leave." He finally says and winces when Jordin's eyes cloud
over.
"I already paid."
"Then I will leave a
tip." Ilya blows out a puff of air. "Well," he motions towards
the hallway with a long sweep of his arm. "Go then to dinner. Oh, and" he rolls on his side and smiles.
"You'll miss me when I'm gone." Ilya taunts from the bed watching
Jordin's denim clad ass as he leaves the room.
"Nah." Jordin
looks over his shoulder. "There's a Wednesday of every week. And it rains
here all the time."
Ilya gives him the last
word, and is impressed that he left without slamming the door.
