MY THOUGHTS WERE still on James and the emotion-packed day when I walked into Gerard’s room at six o’clock. His parents were delighted to see me, and the unexpected treat I brought along was a nice bonus. I was ravenous by then, and we enjoyed the delicious bāo with cups of steaming green tea Mei had thought to bring in a large thermos. We kept the conversation light, sticking to restaurants and bakeries, rating them according to personal preferences.
Traditionally served as dim sum, a Cantonese style of cuisine, and usually reserved for brunch, the bun in its original form consisted of wheat-flour dough filled with barbecued pork then steamed. They evolved through the years, and now the buns were available throughout the day as a baked good. This mode of cooking made them easier to transport and stay fresh longer. When I went back to the States to get my college degree, I was disappointed I couldn’t find them anywhere but in Chinatown. To me, they were comfort food, as necessary as mac and cheese to my roommates.
Gerard had been given clearance to go home in the morning, which would leave the afternoon free for my meeting with DI Lee. Now that my belly was full, and Gerard was firmly on the road to recovery, the urgency to share my concerns with the detective seemed to fade. Perhaps I was overreacting as usual and should take a moment to step back and assess the situation. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say if they’d uncovered something new.
After his parents left, Gerard asked me about the funeral. “Was it well attended?”
“Yes, but I didn’t pay any attention to the guests. I couldn’t tell you who was there.”
“Understandable,” he said. “How are you holding up?”
“My emotional bank has been severely depleted,” I confessed. “An infusion of TLC wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Why don’t you get in bed with me and let me hold you for starters.”
“That sounds great.” I toed off my shoes and snuggled by his side. Under normal circumstances, Gerard’s loving presence would have chased away the blues, but I couldn’t seem to get James out of my mind. Should I reach out to him? Let him know there were no hard feelings. The truth was I felt guilty. Maybe my longing for a more attentive lover hadn’t fallen on deaf ears but had acted as a catalyst, the speck of sand that over the years grew into a pearl James called love. Jesus. What in hell had I started?
I’d vowed to keep the incident to myself, to spare Gerard the additional drama, but in the end, my confusion got the better of me. With my head on his chest, I whispered, “Something disturbing happened this afternoon.”
Gerard stiffened. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Only if you promise to remain calm.”
“I’ll do my best, but if it involves abuse of any kind, all bets are off.”
“He didn’t actually succeed,” I hedged.
“What happened, Niall?”
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