The Twenty on The Counter

Blair pulled the pristine bill from his wallet, smoothed a non-existent crease, and placed it on the counter. He positioned it carefully, wanting just the right impression; under Jim’s favorite mug - too obvious, beneath the salt shaker - too deliberate. Inspiration struck and he slid the twenty’s edge under the lidless canister they used to hold cooking implements. It looked good, half hidden by the stoneware container, highlighted by the shadow of whisks, ladles, and about two dozen chopsticks Jim insisted on keeping for some reason he hadn’t shared yet. Blair allowed himself a sigh of satisfaction, toyed with cup-canister-bill dynamics a moment longer, then went to arrange himself casually in the living room.

He settled in the yellow chair, facing the door and opened a book he’d borrowed from the library, though he didn’t even attempt to read it. Reading was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment. He kept glancing towards the clock, picturing his partner trading good-byes with the other detectives, taking the elevator down to the parking lot and climbing into his truck. Blair smiled, knowing Jim would turn on the oldies station and be singing along with the Beach Boys. The first time Jim had begun to sing in the truck Blair had been so surprised he’d dropped the file he was reading. His partner had a nice voice, surprisingly a light tenor, and had only laughed at Blair’s expression. Now, he would have the window down, the radio up and women would turn around on the sidewalk as he passed, smiling.

Jim was like that. He could make people smile. He could make people cringe with fear when he wanted, but the smiles were involuntary. He would get this puzzled look sometimes, as if he had no idea his effect on those around him. Blair had never tried to explain it, never known exactly how to confide in his partner that his bright eyes, strong jaw and incredible smile made others light up. Jim would just blink at him anyway, and tell him he was nuts. He went out of his way to make people think he was an asshole - and he could be, but he wasn’t a violent person normally. Jim had a nasty temper, he lashed out whenever he felt threatened and his words hurt anyone in their path. Jim barred his fear inside his heart like an elephant locked inside a closet, it remained out of sight but if anyone dared to turn that handle all hell would break loose. Still, fear wasn’t the only emotion inside that darkened cubby-hole, loyalty and compassion were squeezed in there right along side love. It was pretty bettered, the edges were torn and it had stains but love was a very resilient emotion, it could be crushed unrecognizable and still pop back into shape.

Jim could love, he just tried not to make it obvious. Blair grinned to himself and shot a quick look over at the twenty on the counter. The first time it had been a ten. That bill had sat there for almost a week and still Blair hadn’t touched it. Each time his empty stomach cursed him for not borrowing it, Blair wondered why he hadn’t. He ‘d borrowed money from people all his life, but hitting Jim up had seemed different, wrong somehow. The man had taken him in off the street after barely a month’s acquaintance, bumming money seemed like a bad idea. It had taken Jim’s gruff ‘Jeez, Sandburg, it’s not a big deal. Use it if you want’ to pick it up. A couple of days later another ten appeared and when he’d used it a twenty took it’s place. Blair was always sure only to take it only when he really needed it and Jim had seemed to know that.

It had been one of the first contradictions Blair had noticed about his new friend but it wasn’t the only one. Jim looked out for him, not just when they were working, but every aspect of his life. Once Jim had taken him in, he seemed determined to make sure Blair had every thing he needed, whether he asked for it or not. He might bitch about the Volvo’s deplorable condition but when Blair called in the middle of the night, stranded, Jim never hesitated to get there as quickly as possible to pick him up. And Blair couldn’t count the number of chilly winter mornings he’d waken to find an extra blanket on his bed.

Such was Jim’s nature that he could never come right out and say something. He couched his feelings in actions, least anyone get the wrong idea about Lone Wolf Ellison. The extra blanket became ‘that old thing? It was you or Goodwill, Chief’ , The lift at 2A.M. became a lecture on car maintenance, thought the credit card and terse note to buy a fuel pump were harder to explain and so not talked about. But it was the twenty on the counter which really said it all. It was always there - waiting for Blair to need it. Blair knew he could take it every day and it would be replaced without fail. Knowing it was there made him feel safe and protected. Even after a fight with Jim, he could take the twenty and not have to say a word. A ribbon of warmth laced Blair’s heart and every mean word that came out of Jim’s mouth became dust, and was blown away.

It had taken a year for Blair to realize exactly what that $20 meant and then another few months to decide what he wanted to do. He looked back towards the counter again, seeing the green edge of the bill he had placed next to the every present twenty. Two bills of equal value, backed not only by the U.S. government but by two hearts finally equal in emotion. So caught up in his thought was he that when the door opened, Blair’s first instinct was to jump to his feet and flee. But then Jim was hanging up his coat and calling a greeting.

"Want a drink, Chief?" Jim asked.

"Sounds good." Blair kept his seat and the smile he had practiced, heart clattering wildly. He watched Jim reach into the fridge, pull out two bottles of beer, turn to the counter for an opener and stop dead still. For a long moment Ellison stared at the twenty, twin to the one he had placed there only a day earlier. When he moved it was to meet Blair’s eyes. A question lay deep within the blue depths of Jim’s gaze, a question Blair answered with a nod, and a smile. "Thanks, Jim, for everything," he whispered. Jim moved then, walking slowly, deliberately and when he reached the yellow chair he handed the beer over without a word. He didn’t need to speak, Blair could see it all in the expression he wore; the soft glow of his eyes, the slight curl of his lips, Jim understood what it was he’d been trying to say. Blair wrapped a hand around his partner’s tugging gently until the larger man knelt beside him. It had cost him twenty dollars but the gift he’d received in return was priceless.

End…