possible way.” Jen drained the wine bottle into her glass. “Hold on, more wine is needed, yes? Yes. Who was I kidding only bringing up one bottle?” She pushed back her chair, and her slippers slapped on the wood floor.
“A cavity?” Isaac whispered.
“She means you’re sweet,” Aaron answered. “The way you two look at each other, it’s…”
David tensed as his mind completed the sentence. Wrong. Abhorrent. An abomination before the Lord .
“Wonderful,” Aaron finished. “You have no idea how happy it makes me that you found each other. Being gay and alone in an Amish community would be…” He shuddered. “I can’t imagine the loneliness.”
David and Isaac’s eyes met. David reached for his wine, gulping what was left. He spoke without meaning to. “It was a little easier before anything happened. Like how you don’t really know what you’re missing if you’ve never had something. But once you have…”
His despair in the weeks after the accident had been like a hard object lodged in his chest, choking him with each breath. The ghost of it lingered, constricting his lungs even now as he remembered.
Isaac’s warm fingers grasped his across the table, and David was able to breathe again. The certainty that they’d made the right choice—the only choice—settled over him like warm honey. He glanced at Aaron, who only smiled kindly. But after a moment, Isaac let go of David’s hand.
“I really hope you’ll both be comfortable to be yourselves here.” Aaron speared a piece of lettuce, but didn’t eat it. “I know you had it even worse in Zebulon than it ever was in Red Hills. Swartzentruber rules are so strict. I feel like even though I grew up Amish, there are some things I can’t understand about your experience. I’m trying, though. But tell me if I’m getting stuff wrong, or if I’m not being helpful. I don’t want to pressure either of you.”
“You’re not,” Isaac said. “Not at all.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” David added. “There’s so much I don’t know.”
Aaron patted his arm. “You’ll learn. And I should tell you there are a lot of stereotypes about the Amish here in the world. Most people think it’s quaint, or cute , and that we’re all the same. They’ve seen things on TV, and they think that’s what it’s really like in every Amish community. There are a lot of misconceptions.” He laughed. “I sound ready to give a lecture on the subject.”
“You are a teacher, after all,” said Isaac.
“Never fear—I have returned from the trenches with provisions.” Jen swept into the dining room with a new bottle of wine and the corkscrew.
Isaac picked up his fork again. “So, you two met at the hospital, right?” Isaac asked.
“That’s right.” Jen poured more wine for everyone. “Aaron got his bike wheel caught in a sewer grate and took a header onto the pavement. Paramedics brought him in with a nasty gash on his forehead, and a distal radius fracture.”
“Broken wrist,” Aaron translated.
“Did you like him right away?” Isaac sipped his wine with a grimace.
“Well, I thought he was cute.” Jen winked at Aaron. “Obviously. I mean, look at that face.”
Aaron was certainly handsome, with his bright smile and the little cleft in his chin. Was it wrong to acknowledge that Isaac’s brother was attractive? Did it make David disloyal to Isaac somehow, even if he had no interest in any other man? He had another swig of wine, the gentle burn calming his mind.
“But she figured I was just a kid. This was…wow, six years ago now. I was twenty-three, and in my second year of college. It took a while to get my GED and figure out what I wanted to do. Math was my best subject since numbers are the same no matter where you grew up. Not that we learned more than the basics as kids, but it gave me a start. I heard math teachers are in higher demand these days, and I thought I could be good at it.”
“And he is.
“A cavity?” Isaac whispered.
“She means you’re sweet,” Aaron answered. “The way you two look at each other, it’s…”
David tensed as his mind completed the sentence. Wrong. Abhorrent. An abomination before the Lord .
“Wonderful,” Aaron finished. “You have no idea how happy it makes me that you found each other. Being gay and alone in an Amish community would be…” He shuddered. “I can’t imagine the loneliness.”
David and Isaac’s eyes met. David reached for his wine, gulping what was left. He spoke without meaning to. “It was a little easier before anything happened. Like how you don’t really know what you’re missing if you’ve never had something. But once you have…”
His despair in the weeks after the accident had been like a hard object lodged in his chest, choking him with each breath. The ghost of it lingered, constricting his lungs even now as he remembered.
Isaac’s warm fingers grasped his across the table, and David was able to breathe again. The certainty that they’d made the right choice—the only choice—settled over him like warm honey. He glanced at Aaron, who only smiled kindly. But after a moment, Isaac let go of David’s hand.
“I really hope you’ll both be comfortable to be yourselves here.” Aaron speared a piece of lettuce, but didn’t eat it. “I know you had it even worse in Zebulon than it ever was in Red Hills. Swartzentruber rules are so strict. I feel like even though I grew up Amish, there are some things I can’t understand about your experience. I’m trying, though. But tell me if I’m getting stuff wrong, or if I’m not being helpful. I don’t want to pressure either of you.”
“You’re not,” Isaac said. “Not at all.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” David added. “There’s so much I don’t know.”
Aaron patted his arm. “You’ll learn. And I should tell you there are a lot of stereotypes about the Amish here in the world. Most people think it’s quaint, or cute , and that we’re all the same. They’ve seen things on TV, and they think that’s what it’s really like in every Amish community. There are a lot of misconceptions.” He laughed. “I sound ready to give a lecture on the subject.”
“You are a teacher, after all,” said Isaac.
“Never fear—I have returned from the trenches with provisions.” Jen swept into the dining room with a new bottle of wine and the corkscrew.
Isaac picked up his fork again. “So, you two met at the hospital, right?” Isaac asked.
“That’s right.” Jen poured more wine for everyone. “Aaron got his bike wheel caught in a sewer grate and took a header onto the pavement. Paramedics brought him in with a nasty gash on his forehead, and a distal radius fracture.”
“Broken wrist,” Aaron translated.
“Did you like him right away?” Isaac sipped his wine with a grimace.
“Well, I thought he was cute.” Jen winked at Aaron. “Obviously. I mean, look at that face.”
Aaron was certainly handsome, with his bright smile and the little cleft in his chin. Was it wrong to acknowledge that Isaac’s brother was attractive? Did it make David disloyal to Isaac somehow, even if he had no interest in any other man? He had another swig of wine, the gentle burn calming his mind.
“But she figured I was just a kid. This was…wow, six years ago now. I was twenty-three, and in my second year of college. It took a while to get my GED and figure out what I wanted to do. Math was my best subject since numbers are the same no matter where you grew up. Not that we learned more than the basics as kids, but it gave me a start. I heard math teachers are in higher demand these days, and I thought I could be good at it.”
“And he is.
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