Rashid’s tongue traces down my spine, and I can feel goosebumps erupting on my back in its wake. I’m on my front, in my bed, and this is definitely not the worst way to be woken up in the morning. Rashid’s hand is on my hip, and he places kiss after kiss on the small of my back. I sigh contently, basking in the attention I’m receiving from my boyfriend.

I started calling him “my boyfriend” yesterday, but only in my head. We talked a lot last night in the aftermath of our first fight, but somehow the topic of labelling our relationship hasn’t come up. I honestly don’t care right now; I’m just enjoying the moment. I moan into my pillow, and Bruno, my kitten, gives me a quizzical look as he walks by my bed in search of food.

He’s forgiven me for smashing his bowl against the wall. It didn’t break and is still filled regularly with delicious things by his new favourite human. Rashid managed to coax Bruno out of his hiding place behind the couch the other night, and they had their bonding moment, comforting each other after I was so “mean” to them. Unfortunately, said new favourite human is currently otherwise engaged, so feeding the cat will have to wait.

Rashid is 100 per percent the attentive, careful lover that I imagined him to be. If I had to voice one complaint, it would be that he sometimes puts my pleasure too much over his own, but that’s where I step in and show him my appreciation. As long as my stupid brain keeps my past and the present – dream and reality – apart, we’re doing great. Sometimes it’s still a struggle, even today. Last night I recoiled from him when he tried to touch me. I don’t know myself why. It happened subconsciously. I know it must hurt him to get such a reaction from his lover, but he doesn’t show it – of course not, not my Rashid – and just waits for me to snap out of it. He has the patience of a saint and definitely deserves all the affection I can give him.

When Rashid gently turns me around to face him, I feel like purring like a cat myself, perfectly satisfied. Bruno, on the other hand, is clearly on the verge of starvation when we finally emerge from my sheets. He started playing with his favourite ping pong ball a while ago, chasing it across the room with as much noise as possible to get our attention.

I fill his bowl to the rim with kibbles and watch him devour his food before I make breakfast for Rashid and myself. While I wait for the coffee maker to do its thing, I scrape the last bits of peanut butter from the jar, trying to get enough for two sandwiches. I’ll definitely have to go out to buy groceries soon – and there’s this thing called “work chores” that I should pay some attention to soon – but I also want to savour every moment that I can get with Rashid before he needs to leave again. I haven’t had the heart yet to ask him how long he can stay this time, and I’m already dreading being alone again without him.

I can hear him singing and humming in the shower. Someone is clearly in a good mood this morning. Is that a Taylor Swift song? I laugh. Tell me you’re gay without telling me you’re gay. The temptation to walk over and join him under the shower is quite strong, but I know it would mean we’re not getting anything done today. More responsible adult, less horny teenager, Dupree!

My phone starts buzzing as I add the finishing touches to our breakfast. My sister’s profile picture appears, and I swipe across the screen to accept the call.

“Hey, sis!”

“Oh Jay-zuhs, Wendell… I forgot to check the time. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m up. Are you alright? Did something happen?” Phone calls at unusual hours always make me a little nervous.

“No! Gosh, sorry! No, I’m fine. We’re all fine. Just my sleeping pattern is completely messed up thanks to my twin boys that I forgot what times are socially acceptable for a phone call and what aren’t.”

I laugh, feeling relieved. It’s good to hear her voice again. Over the last few weeks, I retreated into my shell, not wanting to let my sister – or anyone else – see my torment. Now I realise how much I missed her.

“I just wanted to check up on you, baby bro,” she continues. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately.”

So she noticed. As always, there’s a familiar sense of guilt for making my sister worry and adding to her already full plate.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit off…” No point in lying. She knows anyway. I can hear the shower stopped running. “Listen, Josie, I’m really sorry, but can we maybe do this another time? I’m actually not alone right now…”

There’s a long pause until I hear Josie’s voice in a hushed tone: “Is… he… there?”

I squirm a little because I know she’ll freak out, but it’s unavoidable. “Yes, he is.”

I can hear her muffle a squeal and roll my eyes. “Woman, you’ll regret waking the boys with your squeals. Get a grip on yourself!” But I laugh. It’s ridiculous but also cute how excited she is for me. I know she’s dying to get more details, but I leave her hanging in suspense for just a little longer.

“We might go for a run later, but we’re also not being good Catholic boys anymore.”

I expect another squeal, but she remains silent.

“Oh my gosh, Wendell, I’m so happy for you…” she finally says, and there’s a tremble in her voice. I smile, feeling a little awkward but mostly pleased at the same time.

The bathroom door opens, and the cause of so much Dupree happiness comes striding into the room, clad only with a towel around his waist and providing quite the distraction. He gives me a questioning look, and I suddenly remember the phone in my hand. I point at it in explanation, and he nods, understanding, and walks over to his bags in search of clean clothes. When he squats down, the towel comes loose and drops, basically short-circuiting my brain.

“Wendell…?” I can hear Josie’s voice coming from my phone that I almost accidentally dropped into the jam jar.

“Yes, sorry, you were saying…? I just got a little… distracted here.” Rashid turns around to me, giving me a wicked smile, and picks up the towel. He doesn’t put it back on, though.

There’s a pointed clearing of voice on the other end. “I was saying… it’s about damn time you introduce your beau to us. Get him the Dupree stamp of approval from your girls. And I know the perfect time for it. Next week is Thanksgiving, and I know Mal’s parents want us to come to Covington for the whole weekend, but I don’t really fancy packing up my entire family for a weekend at the in-laws. You and your beau coming over for dinner would be the perfect excuse. Can you do that for your favourite sister?”

“You’re my only sister, Josie,” I remind her. “I’ll have to check back with Rashid first. I don’t know how long he is here for. Can I call you back?”

I hardly wait for her reply before I hang up. Forget breakfast and being a responsible adult; my boyfriend looks just too damn edible standing in the middle of my room with his hair damp and tousled, beads of water glistening on his skin and the towel in his hand, not even trying to cover up.

We eventually make it out of my room later this morning. Rashid helps me with my chores, and we’re done in record time. We also pay a visit to Mrs Beauchamp, one of my tenants, an elderly, grumpy lady who used to complain about everyone and everything until I softened her up with chocolates and the help of my cat Bruno. Now I’m bringing Rashid, and Mrs Beauchamp is almost flustered to have such a “handsome, young man” in her apartment. Rashid is very polite and charming with her, and when we say our goodbyes, she pats my hand and tells me to bring my friend more often. I don’t correct her; there’s no reason to rub it in the face of an old lady.

Rashid and I then make our way to Rosalie’s for a late lunch. When we walk through the door, the familiar jingle of the doorbell announces our arrival. Rosalie comes out from behind her counter to pull me down for a hug and kisses both my cheeks.

“Well, look what the cat done dragged in,” she says, tossing a dishcloth over one shoulder. “I was ‘bout to send out a search party, sugar. Come on, sit.” She looks up at Rashid and raises an eyebrow. “And you – you still stickin’ around? Good. I got my eye on you. In a lovin’ way, baby. In a lovin’ way.” She sings the last part as she waddles off to the kitchen to prepare our food. We don’t need to order; she knows what we want. Or rather, we better eat what she’s serving us, or else there’s hell to pay. She loves us, really.

The diner isn’t too busy currently, and “our” booth in the corner is unoccupied. Rashid and I both grin at each other, remembering the first time we came here. Rashid actually doesn’t look too different from that first time. Back in June, just a few days after my 23rd birthday, he wore jeans and a t-shirt, just like today. He’s brought a hoodie, but November in New Orleans is still warm when the sun is out, like it is today. I don’t think he’s shaven since he got here two days ago, and I’m loving it. Especially the scrape of his stubble and what it does to my skin, the tiny sparks that it leaves wherever it touches me…

“So, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” He interrupts my daydreaming.

“What…? Oh! That… Josie invited me for dinner on Thanksgiving, so she doesn’t have to spend the weekend at her in-laws.” I roll my eyes, pretending it is such a hardship to spend time with my sister and her family. Rashid knows how much they mean to me. “She said you could come too, if you like, but I told her you’re probably off to somewhere again.”

I try hard to keep any traces of sadness out of my voice, but I stupidly already miss Rashid while he’s still sitting across from me.

“Next weekend? Mhmm…” He tips his chin in a “thinking hard” gesture and looks up as if the answer is written on the ceiling of Rosalie’s diner. “Next weekend…”

He’s evil. He knows I’m dying to hear him say what I think he’s saying, but he just needs to torture me. I probably deserve it.

“Spit it out, Oxford, or I’ll kick your shin under the table. Hard!” I growl at him.

He laughs and takes both of my hands into his. “I’ll be here. If you want me. Unless you think it’s too soon, then I’ll find something else to do while you’re with your family. I’ll keep Bruno company. Play some Gin Rummy with old Mrs Beauchamp.”

I want to squeal in delight like Josie, but I manage to keep it together, barely.

“That’s a whole week? More like a whole ten days you’ll be here?”

His grin widens. “Maybe a bit more…”

I can’t help it. I gasp. “How long…?”

“Mid-December…”

I reach across the table to grab his face and kiss him. “That’s like four weeks?!”

“Mhmm… yeah… but there’s a downside to it.” He says, looking crestfallen.

“What is it?”

“I came here on such short notice. I didn’t have a chance to book a hotel, so…” He smiles at me a little sheepishly.

The second the words leave his mouth, I’m out of my seat like the Flash and slide onto his side of the booth. I grab his face and kiss him hard. He laughs against my mouth, but I don’t care. I’m grinning like an idiot.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper against his lips.

“If you say so,” he replies, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. “Good surprise?”

“The best,” I confirm before kissing him again, longer this time.

We’re interrupted by Rosalie’s very pointed cough and a clatter of plates set down with force on our table: “Lawd have mercy, keep on smoochin’ like that and I’ll be gettin’ the hose. Go on – eat somethin’!”

We obediently shift our focus to the food placed in front of us. Rosalie’s special: Baby’s Bayou Wraps made with red beans, rice, grilled veggies and a spicy tomato jam. It’s not part of Rosalie’s regular menu, but somehow she always manages to have the ingredients to make it when I come around.

I grin up at Rosalie in thanks. I know she’s not really scandalised, just teasing us. She’s seen it all. Did I mention the restroom stall on the far left? The one that’s a bit wider? There was always a pack of condoms and some lube on the windowsill, and it magically never ran out. She took care of us kids. But leave a mess, be rude or forget to wipe your feet, and she’ll have your balls.

Half the street kids in the Quarter called her Mama Rose in my days. I bet they still do. Didn’t matter if you were black, brown, queer, or strung out – if you showed up hungry, she fed you. And if you showed up scared, she sat you down, handed you a grilled cheese, and told you the truth about the world.

She pats my cheek and smiles, “Didn’t I tell you? I told you, sugar – he is a keeper. Look at y’all now.”

Rashid raises an eyebrow at me: “Did she now?” And his smug smile could not be any wider. I give him the light kick under the table that he deserves.

After our meal we decide to take a little detour on the walk back to my apartment across Jackson Square and down to the Moonwalk Riverfront Park. We stop at “No Udder Love”, a gelato shop on Decatur Street. It’s basically just a big window, which is open to the street, but their ice cream is to die for. And dairy-free.

While we’re walking, licking our ice creams – Rashid got chicory coffee gelato, and I lucked out on praline pecan swirl – I pull out my phone to call Josie back as promised earlier. It takes her a while to pick up, but then I hear her voice (and two screaming babies in the background).

“Bad timing, sis?”

“Nah, Mal’s got it. Let me just step out where it’s a little quieter.”

I hear a door creaking and imagine her walking into the small backyard at home. The noise dies away.

“All yours now, baby bro. So, what’s the verdict?”

“Well, do you think you could add another chair to the table? Beside mine, that is?” I ask her.

“Rashid’s coming?!” I can hear the excitement in her voice.

“Nah, I thought I’d ask Rosalie. You know she never gets any decent food…”

“Wendell Gero-…”

“Yes, Rashid is coming. And please behave… don’t embarrass me,” I beg.

“Why, I just spent the entire afternoon searching for every baby picture of you I could find. You were such a cute baby… especially when you ran around the garden in nothing but your birthday suit and a pair of cowboy boots!” She’s practically cooing now.

I groan. I know these pictures exist. Whatever my mom was thinking when she took them.

“Oh, come on, Lell,” she laughs. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all already. Hasn’t he?”

I roll my eyes and count to ten. You really can’t tell her anything. “So would you rather spend the weekend at your in-laws then? Because we could easily find some other occupation if it’s inconvenient for you…”

Rashid shoots me an inquisitorial look, but I wave him off.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll behave! It’s really no fun being your sister.” Josie pretends to be upset, but I know she isn’t. Just normal sibling banter. Maybe it’s not normal for all siblings, but it is normal for us.

“Oh, and Rashid wants to make dessert. Something called Kia, I think?” I look at Rashid for help because I didn’t catch the name of the South Asian dessert he suggested. He laughs and gestures for the phone, and I hand it over, somewhat reluctant.

“Hi Josie, this is Rashid…” He listens and smiles. “Yes, nice to hear you, too. Thanks for the invitation. I’m really looking forward to meeting you and the rest of Wendell’s family. So, what he just tried to say is ‘Kheer’. K-H-E-E-R. It’s a rice pudding my nanu – my grandmother – used to make when I was little. Only I’m making a dairy-free version, so our mutual friend here,” he grins at me. “Doesn’t make a fuss about eating it.”

I rub my palm over my face. I knew it was a mistake to surrender my phone. They haven’t even met yet properly, and already my boyfriend and my big sister are ganging up on me. As if I ever make a fuss about food… inconceivable… I demand my phone back, but Rashid holds me off.

“No, it’s no trouble at all, really. I’m happy to contribute something. Yes, see you on Thursday. I’ll make sure Wendell’s on time.”

He finally returns my phone with a shrug. “I think she hung up.”

I pout and stuff my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. Before I can complete the motion, it buzzes again, and I answer it without checking the caller ID.

“No, Josie, you absolutely cannot show him…”

I’m interrupted by a male voice. I’m listening, and it’s like the temperature just dropped to freezing level within a split second.

“Thanks… yes… thank you,” I murmur, not really listening anymore.

Rashid senses my sudden change in mood and turns to me questioningly. I hang up.

“Wendell?” Rashid asks, concern on his face.

It takes me a moment to find my voice again, and when I do, it sounds choked and hollow, even to my own ears. “My dad died.”