Amusement danced in Isha’s liquid gaze. It lightened his whole face, making him seem almost boyish. “Tea is fine.”
“So you really don’t drink?”
“Rarely. I used to have a beer with a buddy of mine from time to time, but he gave it up when he moved in with his fella, so I don’t bother now. Getting wasted doesn’t interest me, so what’s the point?”
“Beats me. I’ve never been able to.”
“Because of your epilepsy?”
“The drugs more than the disease, but yeah. If I want to lose my head and forget my name, I basically have to die first.”
Gallows humour was my thing, but the light faded from Isha’s face. “I googled epilepsy after you told me. I never realised it was so complex…that it’s different for everyone.”
“I don’t know how it is for anyone else, but to be honest, it’s all I’ve ever known.” I dropped tea bags into mugs and shifted so I could see him while the kettle boiled. “When I was a kid, it was harder, because I was having seizures every day, but it’s not like that now.”
“How often do you have them?”
“Once or twice a year. I’ve never made the twelve month mark, though. That’s why I don’t drive.”
Isha nodded slowly, as if he was noting the information and storing it for later. With anyone else, their interest would’ve pissed me off, but Isha was different. It wasn’t hard to figure out he was a dude who couldn’t help wanting to know everything about anything that impacted his life.
Not that I was planning on letting my sporadic seizures affect his life, but whatever. I didn’t take his inquisitiveness personally.
I brewed tea and braced myself for more questions, but Isha was silent as I handed him a mug.
He nodded his thanks, and stared into the murky liquid. “I’ve been drinking this stuff for years, but never figured out why.”
“Me neither. I’m kind of hooked on it, though. Builder’s brew makes me twitchy.”
“I got onto it because Mina did. Before that I was perfectly happy with my nuclear java.”
He talked about Mina a lot, and I wondered if he realised. And I wondered if it mattered. Married or not, she was the mother of his children, and from the glimpse of her I’d seen through the back room window, she was ridiculously beautiful. “Why did you split up?”
“What?”
“You and Mina. You were married, right?”
Isha set his cup on the kitchen counter. “Seriously? That’s what you want to talk about?”
It wasn’t, but I couldn’t help it. Isha wasn’t the only curious fucker in the room. I gripped the counter edge and hoisted myself up to sit on it. “I’m interested.”
“In what?”
“In who you really are.”
“Why?”
Again with that fucking question. I was fast realising that it was Isha’s favourite method of deflection, but this time I had honesty to counter him. “Because I want to do more than talk shit on Grindr with you, and that’s what irrationally scares me.”
I picked up my own mug and left. Next door to the kitchen was my living room. Frances squawked a greeting, and I opened her cage so she could climb onto my shoulder. She nibbled my ear, muttering something I couldn’t quite catch. I considered the possibility that Isha might leave, but Frances alerted me to his presence a moment later, blowing her favourite impression of a train whistle straight into my ear. “Jesus! You little shit.”
“Are you talking to me or the bird?”
“The bird, but if the cap fits.”
Isha came closer, eyes fixed on Frances with none of the trepidation I’d seen from him in the shop. “African grey?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Frances. She’s a pain in the arse, but I love her.”