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Benny & Ray 39 Irises Dee Gilles Rated PG

The door opened, letting in the stale August heat for just a moment. A man walked into the Consulate carrying a large vase of blue Japanese irises. "Hello," he said pleasantly. "I have a delivery for Mr. Benton Frazhier?"

"Constable Fraser, yes. I'd be happy to take them," I said.

The man handed over the heavy vase as I signed his clipboard. He glanced at my illegible signature.

"Thanks," he replied. "Name?"

"Caruthers. Chick."

"Chick?"

"Yeah, Chick. My baby brother couldn't say `Chuck'," I explained for like, the three millionth time in my life. "It just kind of stuck."

"Cute," was all he said. "Have a good day," he said.

"You do the same."

I looked around the empty lobby. And swiftly opened up the small envelope attached to expose the Capri card inside. I read the card. What can I say? I'm a nosy SOB. I must get that from my mom. She was an investigative reporter for the Toronto News for twenty years. I tucked the card back in, looking around again.

How interesting. This explained why Mr. Fraser had gone straight to his office this morning upon his arrival with barely a word acknowledging our presence. First time he'd ever done anything like that. Melissa and I, who had been standing together near the front window drinking coffee and people-watching before start of shift, had kind of looked at each other after his very terse `good morning' and raised our eyebrows at each other. We knew not to make any comments now. Mr. Fraser was notorious for having bat-like hearing, and we knew he could hear every conversation that went on within the Consulate, and probably could follow some conversations going on in the street outside his office as well. Melissa and I would discuss it later, when we left the building for lunch.

I have to confess that I was a little weirded out to find out that my new boss was gay. Like a lot of guys, I guess I automatically assumed he would be hitting on me or something. Turns out nothing of the sort happened, and I was kind of surprised. I mean, it's not like I'm ugly or something. He could at least have made the gesture.

But I got over that pretty quickly. The fact is that Benton Fraser had done me a huge favor. Or so I thought. I had remained in the U.S. after graduating from Loyola, in the hope of starting a career in diplomacy. This was only my second "real job" after college and I really didn't think I'd have a chance in hell of getting it. But here I am, despite my thin resume. I had thought that my mother's oldest brother helped put in the good word for me, or maybe somebody else in the family had. I mean, half of the Meers family was in the RCMP or connected to it in some way. Could have been any one of them. But Mr. Fraser had assured me that that was not the case, and in fact he had declared that he had no idea at all the Staff Sergeant Meers was my uncle. That it had only come to the light of day only during my second interview, and he was already certain at that time that he had wanted to hired me.

Well, maybe that's true, and maybe it isn't. But I was grateful for the chance in any case. I wanted to go into public service, either in the U.S. or back home in Ontario, and having this job, although only a clerical aide, was a step in the right direction; I was getting get a lot of exposure to high-powered and influential ambassadors, politicians, and emissaries.

I picked up the vase of blue flowers and went across the hall to knock on Mr. Fraser's closed door. I raised my hand to knock, and heard his raised voice through the thick oak door, which gave me pause.

"Then what are you apologizing for, Ray?" I heard him say. "If you maintain that you haven't done anything for which to apologize, why do you keep apologizing?" I had put the call from his boyfriend through about ten minutes ago. I hadn't realized they were fighting today. Mr. Vecchio often called several times per week, sometimes several times per day, so I didn't think anything of the fact that he had called Mr. Fraser for the third time today. In the year-plus that I'd been working for Mr. Fraser, I'd never heard him raise his voice or even so much as sound irritated. So this was shocking. Wait until I tell Melissa!

At the door, I held my breath, and glancing around again to make sure nobody was in the area watching me eavesdrop, I pressed my ear to the door. I did not hear anything for the next few seconds until I heard him say tersely "All you have to do is say what you did, Ray." The receiver was audibly dropped back in the cradle. Then, dead silence.

I took my opening to knock and enter quickly. "Look what just--

I was shocked at his appearance. He had pulled his head from his hands in response to my sudden appearance. Mr. Fraser was red-faced and his eyes were brimming. He held up his hand toward me, a warning to stay away. "I don't want them," he said crossly, scowling. "Take them away."

I was so surprised I had begun recoiling as soon as I saw him, slowly edging out of the room. "I'm sorry." I said, and closed the door behind me.

I sat down after placing the beautiful arrangement on the credenza behind my desk. I fluffed out the stems and admired them.

My phone rang and I picked it up before the first ring had ended. "Canadian Consulate Chicago, Charles Caruthers speaking."

"Can I please speak to him again, Chick?"

"I....don't know if that's such a good idea right now."

"He's really mad, isn't he?"

"I think he may be crying."

Dead silence for about five seconds. Then, "Shit. Okay, alright. I'll call back later...uh, did a florist come by?"

"Yes, your flowers came, Mr. Vecchio."

"He didn't like them, did he?"

"Well...they're lovely. They are placed right behind my desk where every visitor can see them," I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

"I see."

"Shall I tell him you called again?"

A deep sigh. "Yeah, wouldja?"

"No problem. Let me know if I can help you two."

Ray's voice warmed up a little. "Hey, thanks, kid. I'll call back later."

Fact is, I really did want to help. After getting over the strangeness of Mr. Fraser and Mr. Vecchio being a gay couple, and an odd couple at that, I found I genuinely liked both of them, for different reasons.

I turned and gazed at the arrangement of flowers behind me, pondering for a moment. I then stood and removed the little cardette from the arrangement, and crossed to Mr. Fraser's office. I removed the card from the envelope, making sure its message was facing up. I pushed the message under the door, and quickly walked back to my desk.

The card contained a succinct message of regret and love. It had said only;

Babe, I'm sorry.

I found myself exceedingly touched by the simple message. I rooted for Ray Vecchio that he could put things right again. I hoped he called again soon.

Finis