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“You have to get the bastard something or he’s going to cry about it all day and I can’t have that. Brings down the workplace.”
“Crying for twenty-four hours straight could cause trauma to the tear ducts.”
“Trust me. With Nigel, anything is possible,” Darko warned again, sliding his rook piece across the board with a smirk, “Checkmate. Lunch is on you.”
Darko had learned how to play chess from Adam since Nigel couldn’t sit still long enough to listen, and the two would wager bets on the matches.
“What?” Adam was caught off guard. “Oh, right. I’ll pay for lunch since I lost the game, but I need you to help me pick out a gift for Nigel.”
“I’m not doing that. Just knit him a sweater and be done with it.”
“I can’t knit!”
“Then buy a sweater and tell him you made it.”
“That would be a lie, Darko, and you know how I feel about lying.”
“He would be happy to receive a rock from you, as long as it’s from you.”
“I want to get him something he actually likes.”
“Like I said, get a rock and throw it at his thick skull to knock some sense into him.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, but that does give me an idea.”
—
“Are you having a meltdown, Darko? I’m overwhelmed too, but I’m giving myself exactly ten minutes. Also, it helps if you put your hands on your—”
“No, Adam! I’m not having a — why couldn’t you just ship this shit to the house?”
“Because the shipping price would have been astronomical and the store is located in the city. I wouldn’t have come alone, but since you’re here…”
“Yes, but the store is in Midtown at fucking Rockefeller Center! We might as well have walked into Times Square on New Years.”
As he spoke, two boys using foam candy canes as lightsabers ran by, accidentally hitting Darko in the back of the leg as collateral damage.
“What the — oh, you fuckers. You’d better hope your mom is hot!”
“Darko over here!” Adam pointed to a well-lit display at the back of the store. “Can you help me pick one out?”
Suddenly another kid with a plastic dinosaur smacked Darko’s leg with its tail, giggling as she pranced away unbothered. He let out a deep sigh and stomped over the giant piano mats, unintentionally playing an angry crescendo of notes with each step.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Please Darko? Then we can leave.”
“You owe me. And if you ever bring this up, so help you Virgin Mary—”
“I won’t say anything, except to Nigel. I tell him everything.” Adam then saw Darko grab a random plush and frantically stopped him. “No, no, not that one. Pick one from the center.”
“What does it matter?”
“Because the ones on the outside probably get touched more often than the ones on the inside, resulting in a higher rate of exposure to bacteria. Think of how many people touch these displays at any given time.”
“Whatever you say,” Darko sighed as he scooped an oversized stuffed dog into his arms. “Wait, how much bacteria do you suppose is on a stripper pole? Never mind, I don’t want to find out. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
—
“Okay, what is the deal with the dog?” Darko finally asked Adam on the drive back home.
“Nigel said he had a dog when he was growing up in Romania. A Shepard dog named Resturi.”
Darko burst into laughter.
“Why did you laugh just now?”
“Because first of all, Nigel hates animals. Second, do you know what that means in Romanian?”
Adam shook his head.
“It means ‘scraps’. Maybe he called the dog that because it ate leftover scraps of food.”
“Oh, that makes sense. He said he would call out, ‘Turi, Turi,’ and the dog would come to him and eat whatever he dropped from the table.”
“And why do you think Nigel cares about some old dog from his childhood?”
“He said he missed when things were easier, like when he was younger, so I thought commemorating Resturi might be nice.”
“I can’t believe you actually listen to that fucker’s hopes and dreams,” Darko chortled, “Good for him though, at least someone does.”
Rubbing his nose inquisitively, Adam thought out loud, “Can I pick the restaurant?”
“You lost the chess match, then dragged me around the city to buy a toy for a grown man, and now you want to pick the place where we eat?”
He nodded innocently.
“Fine. What?”
“The Italian restaurant in West Village, near my apartment. You said they had the best gnocchi you’ve ever tasted.”
Darko’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he chuckled.
“That place is expensive. We can eat somewhere else.”
“No, I want to eat there. But for takeout, if that’s okay? I’ve done all the socializing I can handle for today.”
“Okay. Whatever you say,” Darko stated for a second time, smiling to himself.
—
“Happy birthday, you crazy motherfucker,” Darko sang affectionately, bringing out a plate of homemade papanași to the dinner table; fried donut pastries smothered in sour cream, blueberries, and jam.
“Papanași? Mm. Haven’t had that in a long time.”
“My mother’s recipe. And if you speak on her, I will stick this dish where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Nigel roared with laughter, clasping a hand on Darko’s back as he thanked him.
“It smells good. Unlike your mother’s—”
Darko immediately backhanded Nigel as if it were a natural reflex.
“Hey, hey! Have some respect.”
He smirked, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought we weren’t doing birthday licks this year.”
“That depends on your behavior. Though I doubt you could handle fifty hits, your brain is working on borrowed time already. Now hurry up and open your present so I can go home,” Darko joked as he pointed to the oversized box in the back.
“What did you get me, a fucking blow up doll?”
“Adam got it for you, actually.”
“Then why the hell did you bring it from your home?”
“Because he knew your nosy ass would peek. For my birthday, I expect you two to take out a full page spread in The Times. I’m holding you to it. That’s Darko, D-A-R-K-O Bucur.”
Nigel’s tone suddenly changed as he turned towards Adam, “For me, darling?”
Adam nodded as he finished off the rest of his food.
“Yes. Darko helped me get it for you.”
“And don’t you forget it!” Darko exclaimed in jest.
Nigel excitedly ripped the box open, only to find a rather large dog plush inside; not in the slightest what he was expecting. Confused, he held it up in the air.
“What is this about, darling?”
“Resturi,” Adam said quietly.
Then Nigel’s face softened.
“My old family dog. You remembered that story, Adam? I was fucking drunk out of my mind when I told you.”
“I remember everything you tell me.”
Tossing the toy, Nigel ran up to Adam and lifted him off the ground, squeezing him as tightly as he could.
“Ever the total package my Adam is. How did I get so lucky?”
“It even kind of looks like you,” Darko commented as he picked up the discarded plush, “Same hair.”
Nigel possessively reclaimed the doll from Darko with a scowl.
“Anyway, thank you both. I’ve been dreading this birthday for a while.”
“Why? Because it means you’re an old man now?” Darko teased, delighting in Nigel’s midlife crisis.
“Something like that.”
“Is that why you dyed your hair brown and started wearing earrings?” Adam inquired seriously, making both of the men crack up.
“You don’t like my new look, gorgeous?”
“I like it, but I think your gray hair suits you just fine. I didn’t date you for your looks.”
“And there goes your ego, Nigel,” Darko cackled, “Hear that? You’re no longer the ‘Pretty Boy of Bucharest: Romania’s National Treasure.’ You’re just a distant memory.”
“No, I meant that Nigel is the most handsome man I’ve ever met, but that isn’t why I fell in love with him,” Adam then turned to Nigel, “I love your confidence, how sure of yourself you are. For someone like me who is constantly unsure about everything, it’s nice to be with somebody that has a very specific direction in life.”
“I have no direction in life,” Nigel admitted, “But I know who I am.”
“You can say that again,” Darko mumbled under his breath.
“I also know that I’m a good-looking motherfucker who will defend the both of you to the death, and have done so on many occasions. You need me in your life and you know it.”
“To be fair, half of those fucking fights were your fault,” Darko barked at him.
Nigel unleashed his signature nasally laugh and patted Darko on the neck.
“Thanks for the papanași, brother. Now get the fuck out so I can really celebrate my birthday, if you catch my drift.”
“Poate ţi-o iei în freză.* I’ll get out of your way. Enjoy your birthday, you dirty dog. Bye Adam.”
“Goodbye Darko, thank you for your help today.”
Nigel kicked the door shut with his foot and focused his full attention on Adam.
“That was very thoughtful of you, darling. No one has ever listened to me before, like actually fucking listened.”
“You do the same for me.”
“Fuck it. Let’s get married. You and me.”
“You must have really liked the gift.” Adam’s brows furrowed. “But you said you never wanted to get married again, especially after what happened with your ex-wife.”
“I’m a fucking fool, but I can’t live without you, Adam. I won’t live without you. I’ll try again, and again and again to make it work. Say the fucking words, if you feel the same way.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“‘Til death do us fucking part.” Nigel buried his face in the crook of Adam’s neck, permanently imprinting his scent. “I promise I’ll get you a ring, angel — a really nice one. Platinum? Titanium? Gold? Anything you fucking want. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
He lifted Adam’s right hand and kissed the ring finger lovingly.
Adam nodded, bringing their lips together.
“It’s your birthday but you just proposed to me.”
“I got what I wanted: You. All of you. Only you. Now what do you say, let’s celebrate our new status as husband and husband,” Nigel whispered, biting Adam’s ear seductively before carrying his new husband to the bedroom.
—
Translations:
*Resturi (Romanian): Scraps/Leftovers
*Poate ţi-o iei în freză (Romanian): Maybe I’ll smash your haircut/Maybe you’ll take it in the haircut
*Papanași: Romanian dessert