Day – 228 My Sheep Is On Fire: Baabecue

Words supplied by: Jon, Mark, Tim (L), Ariel, Tim (P), Mara, James, Belinda, Sara and Alex: Uhm, Dabha, Chillies, amazeballs, fructose, alligator, amniocentesis, chutney, pasta, mafia and diffuser (hopefully the correct definition)

Word count: 1023

“So what do you want, honey?”

James and Alex were in the Indian restaurant, Dhaba, that they had had their very first date in. It was strange being back here after all this time, but they both thought that on their ten year anniversary, that they should return to the place that had been the emblem of the start of the rest of their lives.

Their first date had been a bit strange. At first Alex had opened conversations about automotive diffusers and their improvements in the recent Ford models. That conversation had been more than a little awkward because James was not interested in cars at all. He was more into adventure and enjoying life. Within minutes of him taking the reins of the conversation, he was discussing the time that he had fought off a baby alligator from attacking their campsite whilst on holiday in Florida. James would always remember Alex’s response, wild eyed and wrapped in awe: “Amazeballs.”

Ten years on, they were married, owned a house together and were planning their first adoption. It was a scary time of their lives. By comparison, they were both quite young at the age of thirty two to be wanting that much responsibility. The marriage alone had taken them only a few years to get around to: the proposal had been set pretty much within the first ten days of knowing each other. Alex was enthralled by James. He adored every inch of him.

The adoption process was scary. They had tried a surrogate, but upon performing amniocentesis on their friend Christine after she fell pregnant, they found that it was simply too painful to go through that route to parenthood. They both were looking to be parents, not necessarily to have biological links to their child.

“I’m not sure, James, to be honest I’m not in the mood for chillies and chutney. I’d kill for some pasta and cheese… something savoury… something Mediterranean…even something with a bit of fructose!”

“Well why didn’t you say? I booked this only last night, we could have gone anywhere!”

“I didn’t want to ruin it – ten years, James… I wanted it to be special.”

“It would have been nice if you had liked the food…”

“I do, I do – it’s just that… I’m nervous… chillies don’t go down well when I’m nervous….”

“Uhmmm, what are you nervous about?”

“Because I’m about to tell a bad joke that you might judge me on…. My sheep is on a fire: baabecue.”

Alex hung his head in shame.

“I told you so,” James said, self mockingly.

“No, there’s something else.” Alex looked up, eyes piercing into his lover’s. “What is it? You never can’t eat when you’re stressed.”

James looked down at his napkin that he had absent mindedly folded up and made into a swan by origami. James shook his head in despair. He looked deep into Alex’s bright, blue eyes: the same pair of irises he had gazed longingly into for ten whole years and he thought of little else but the task at hand. He could not let the last ten years affect this decision: James had no choice. This was it: this was how it was always going to be.

“Alex,” James began, “You know I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alex looked confused.

“And I would love to bring up our children together. I would love to walk them to school and to
take them on holidays and show them the world… to spend the rest of my life with you….”

Alex reached out and grabbed James’s hands across the table, “And I want nothing more myself….I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you….”

“Well that’s just as well, because you’re going to have to…”

Alex smiled at first and then withdrew it, troubled by his partner’s words. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have to tell you something…”

“What? What’s going on?”

“Whatever happens, please believe me in that it was never my choice… I never wanted… I never planned it to end this way. It’s beyond my control.”

“What? What’s beyond your control?”

“Alex, I’m sorry. I’ve been keeping a secret from you for ten long years… and I’ve been keeping you a secret for just as long…”

“What do you mean?”

“Alex, there is no easy way to say this. I’m in the mafia.”

“What?” Alex began to giggle but his smile quickly dissipated from his cheeks. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. And… I’m afraid that they don’t want you in my life.”

“They? Who’s they?”

“The powers that be. So I’m afraid, this is only options available. I know you won’t go quietly and I let that slip to them accidentally. For that, I am sorry. I am so deeply sorry. You will never know how sorry I am. You are and always will be… the love of my life. No one can compare to you…”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No, I’m killing you.” James drew his gun from his underneath the table and pointed it at his lover. Everyone in the restaurant was mafia: they would provide the alibi for James’s father owned the provided protection for the restaurant.

“What are you doing?”

“Killing what would have been, what could have been… I’m sorry Alex. You were the one… just not the one that my family wanted….”

Alex stared down at the gun, his mind evidentially exploding with fear. It was in that moment that James needed to pull the trigger. Any second earlier or later and he might not have been able to at all: but there was no choice. This had to be done and now was the time to do it. James pulled the trigger. Blood spurted forth from the wound in his chest and Alex’s body slumped to the floor. James lunged forward to catch him and held his head in his lap.

“We would have been good together,” James comforted Alex.

“No, James…we would have been great…” the faint glimmer of life dispersed from Alex’s eyes and he was gone……….

~ by S.G. Mark on May 22, 2012.

One Response to “Day – 228 My Sheep Is On Fire: Baabecue”

  1. Truest love is worth everything. What would life be without it?

    The story ended with the dearest love being eliminated, shot. I have to wonder what kept the shooter from turning the gun on himself. Would he spend the rest of his life turning a gun on himself in other ways?

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