The following is a short 2,600 word scene I wrote for a friend's birthday present. Happily the topic is a birthday present for Hank's uncle.
I hope you enjoy. xx, Renae.
The Shearing Gun’s Birthday Present
Copyright, Renae Kaye 2014
The invitation came unexpectedly through the mail. I didn’t see it for hours, stuck between the letters from the bank and Elliot’s medical insurance.
I’d been into town to grab some drenching fluid for the stock and some wormer for the chooks, so I popped into the post office to pick up the mail.
“Hey, Denise,” I greeted the woman behind the counter.
She was serving old Mrs. Mackay, and smiled in my direction before yelling loudly to the elderly woman, “That’ll be sixteen dollars and forty cents.” Mrs. Mackay nodded and pulled out some money. With her parcel paid for, she turned and saw me.
“Hank Woods,” she greeted me with a smile. The woman was shrivelled in size and walked very slowly with an arthritic limp. She used to play the organ at the local Baptist church until her fingers could no longer keep up. I knew that she was a fixture in the community and especially at her church. Every single fete the church had, she was there, behind a pile of brightly-coloured crocheted blankets and baby booties.
I gulped.
Even though in the months since I’d been “outed” I’d received a lot of positive support from most sections of our community, I’d yet to run the gauntlet of “the church elders.” What would she think about Elliot moving in with me? What would she think about our “gay lifestyle”?
“I just want to say thank you, Hank,” she told me, poking a crooked finger into my forearm.
“Huh? What?” I stammered. What happened to the God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve speech?
“I want to thank you for making that lovely young doctor stick around. He’s brilliant. He’s got me on these new tablets that make me feel twenty again. I’d been trying to hook him up with some of the young ladies in town. I didn’t realise he had a thing for the boys. So I’m glad you’ve snapped him up and installed him in your bedroom. We need some fresh young blood out here. So, well done.”
I was still blinking rapidly and staring at Denise in shock when the door slammed behind Mrs. Mackay, leaving Denise giggling like mad and me unsure as to what just happened.
I grabbed my mail and left, bemused and shocked in a way that didn’t wear off for a while.
Elliot was the first to notice the invitation several hours later. “What’s this?” he asked as I mashed the potatoes for our dinner.
“I dunno,” I replied. “You’re the one looking at it. I’m over here slaving in the kitchen to feed you.”
I pulled the plates out of the cupboard and heaped our steaks, mashed potato, roasted pumpkin and boiled beans on them. I was vaguely aware of Elliot tearing open an envelope and reading it.
“It’s an invitation,” he declared.
“To what?”
“Jimmie’s birthday.”
“Jimmie has a birthday?” I was surprised. I’d never seen him celebrate one before.
Elliot gave me a look of disgust as I placed the meal on the table. “Of course he does. But he’s having a party this year. It’s his fiftieth. The party’s on New Year’s Eve and we’re invited.”
“Oh.”
I looked down at my meal and tried to hide my expression. I still wasn’t comfortable with the whole “out and proud” concept of being gay. For most of my life I’d been hiding in the closet. Even during the years I lived with Uncle Murray and his partner Jimmie, I’d hidden. Most of their friends didn’t realise I was gay, and those that did, respected my deep closet by never mentioning it.
But attending a birthday party with my boyfriend would be a statement that I didn’t know if I was ready to admit to. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with being gay, I just didn’t want Jimmie’s friends to start talking hair and musicals with me. Being outed didn’t mean that I had changed.
“Will you be able to go?” I asked Elliot. “Or will you be on call?”
Being one of only two doctors in a small country town meant that Elliot was restricted to the times he could have off. If he wasn’t able to leave town those days, I’d be able to attend solo and not have to admit to having a boyfriend back home.
“Actually, yes,” Elliot replied. “George and I were talking about it only this morning. He wants to visit his daughter for Christmas. We’ve agreed that I’ll have on call for that week and he’ll be back on the twenty-ninth. Therefore he’ll be able to cover New Years. This is great. I’d love to see Murray and Jimmie again. What should we get him for a present?”
With a sinking heart, I could see that this invitation meant a lot to Elliot. I knew I was going to have to be brave and take a step out into the unknown. Maybe with Elliot at my side, it might just be okay.
Murray and Jimmie had gone all-out with their party. They hired the local yacht club for the evening, brought in decorators, and paid a fortune for wine and finger food. We arrived on their doorstep at midday and found Jimmie in an absolute tizzy. He fluttered from room to room, never sitting for more than five seconds, stressing about minor details of the party and texting the decorator a million times.
“Oh! It’s been three minutes. Why hasn’t she messaged me back about the flowers and if she’d managed to get the pale yellow roses?” Uncle Murray, obviously from a lifetime of dealing with Jimmie, snatched the phone off him.
“Jim-Dear. She has a job to do, and you messaging her every five minutes will make her late.” He kissed Jimmie gently on his brow. “Now go and run a bath and have a soak for an hour. It’ll make you calm down. I’ll watch your phone for you.”
We all sighed in relief as Jimmie trotted off obediently. Elliot chuckled. “How do you not run from the room screaming when he gets that stressed, Murray?”
I watched as my uncle blushed slightly and looked embarrassed. “Oh, well. I love the man from top to toe. Good and bad. How can I not love him when he’s flipping out about nothing? I just remember that he was there for me. When they beat me so bad that they broke fourteen different bones in my body, he was there for me. When I couldn’t walk for six months and was a foul-mouth coot because of the pain, he didn’t run screaming. When I break down and cry thinking of that night, he holds me together. For me to smile when he asks for the eightieth time if he should wear the purple shirt or the orange shirt tonight? Well, that’s the easy part.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat at the thought of what my uncles had been through, and the strength of their love. I steeled my spine. I knew that that’s how I wanted to love Elliot – with strength and honour, unwavering in my dedication to him, for the next seventy-odd years. I could do it. And the first thing would be the party.
We arrived a little late, as we took our time getting dressed after Murray and Jimmie had departed early, so they were ready for the first guests. Elliot looked fantastic in black trousers and a brown shirt. He told me it wasn’t brown, it was burnt umber. It still looked brown to me.
I was wearing my new shirt he’d bought me as a Christmas present. I’d never owned such finery before, and I was a little nervous in wearing it. It was a steel grey colour, with a pattern that looked very citified. I felt like a fraud. I was just a farm boy.
“You’re not comfortable with attending this party with me, are you?” Elliot said in the car on the way over.
He was the man I loved. The man I adored. I couldn’t lie to him. “It’s not that I’m not proud to be with you, Quackle,” I muttered. “It’s just I think they will look at me differently.”
He nodded with a small smile. “I understand. Baby steps. You’ll be fine. No public displays of affection. We’ll just be friends unless you want to introduce me as different. I won’t kiss you in front of all those people, you know.”
“I know, Quackle,” I said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I love you.”
The yacht club was a mass of yellow and red flowers, balloons and streamers. It was packed with Jimmie’s friends and family, and everyone was chatting and having a wonderful time.
We quickly found the guest of honour and waved to him where he was surrounded by friends, then headed to the bar to pick up a drink. With a beer in my hand, I turned and saw an old mate of Murray’s, Rick Burgess. Rick was a friend from what Murray referred to as “before.” Before he’d been assaulted. Before he’d been outed. Before he’d been run out of the small country town where he was born and had worked his entire life as a farmer. Rick was one of his childhood friends who didn’t shun Murray for being gay.
“Rick,” I greeted him jovially, shaking his hand. “It’s wonderful to see you.” Then I stumbled at the first hurdle. I turned to Elliot and faltered in how to introduce him. “This is Elliot, he’s… umm….”
Luckily Elliot seized the initiative. “Elliot Montgomery. I’m the new doctor in Dumbleyung.”
They shook hands and began chatting about how dry the south of the state was. I internally condemned myself for being a wimp. The three of us discussed farming for a good fifteen minutes, debating the advantages of barley crops and questioning the new trade agreements with China.
We finally separated from Rick, so Elliot and I circulated and spent an hour speaking with friends of Jimmie’s, eating delicious concoctions brought around by uniformed wait staff, and drinking alcohol. I left Elliot arguing the latest political stunt with some person I’d never met before, and went to drain the snake.
On exiting the toilets, I approached the bar, and stood in line behind two men I vaguely remembered from some of Jimmie’s previous parties.
“Oh, yes. I could definitely have a piece of that arse,” one said.
“I reckon he could take us both at the same time,” the other said. “You can take his mouth.”
I vaguely wondered which poor chap was being talked about and silently wished the bartender would hurry up. The men continued their conversation with no worries as to who might be listening in.
“You should ask him. It could be our way to welcome in the New Year.”
“I’ve never seen him before, so he must’ve come with someone. We may have to invite them both in order to get a go at that cute arse.”
“That may be painful. What if he came with Jerry or Kevin? I really can’t make myself want them ever again. We should find out who he came with first.”
“Do you think he is one of Johnnie’s boys?”
“No. I heard someone say he was a doctor.”
My heart stopped at that comment. A doctor? It’s not like doctors were thick on the ground. But maybe they weren’t talking about my boyfriend.
“I think you may be right about the doctor. He’s rich, whoever he is,” the second man remarked. “That shirt’s from the Alexandre Mattiussi spring collection. It cost a pretty penny. I recognised the burnt umber immediately.”
Burnt umber? My gut began to boil. They were talking about my boyfriend. They were thinking about him. They were discussing him. They couldn’t have him. My fingers curled into fists as I fought the urge to smash their heads together.
“Do you think he’s gay?”
“If he’s not, it makes it even hotter when he takes it.”
I ground my teeth together and began to take deep breaths. Starting a fight at Jimmie’s party was not the way to say happy birthday. And besides, I only had myself to blame. Yes, that man belonged to someone. Me. But I’d been too bloody pigheaded to publicly claim him. That needed to be rectified.
Armed with two beers and the fruity cocktail Jimmie loved, I made my way back to Elliot. “Follow me,” I told him, uncaring that I was interrupting his conversation. I made a beeline for Jimmie and Murray where they were standing together, chatting with friends.
I pushed in front of them and handed a surprised Jimmie and Murray a drink each. Then raising the voice that could shout instructions to a dog on the other side of a paddock, I commanded an audience.
“I have something I wish to say.”
The people around me immediately quieted and stepped back, allowing me my floor.
“I want to say a big happy birthday to one of my favourite people in the world.”
More conversations died as people realised an impromptu toast was being made.
“Jimmie, you are my hero. My shining star. My uncle. I can barely remember a time when you weren’t at Uncle Murray’s side, loving him, being a partner, and being the best you could be.” I thought there might be a glimmer of tears in Jimmie’s eyes, but I continued. “Over the years, I’ve done the best I can to follow your example. Because, if I can be exactly like you, then I’ve done great.”
There were a couple of people in the crowd who called “Hear, hear”, but I ignored them.
“I know there are times in my life that you may not have agreed with my decisions, but I always knew that you were there to support me. Both you and Murray. A united team. Together. When the invitation to this birthday came through the mail, I couldn’t think of a present to give you. There was nothing worthy of the respect, honour and love I feel for both you and Murray. But two minutes ago I thought of something. Something that I knew would make you proud. Something that I knew would make this a birthday you would remember.”
By this time I had the attention of the room. Someone had turned the music down and everyone was listening to what I had to say. Uncle Murray was standing at Jimmie’s side, one beefy arm slung around the birthday boy, supporting Jimmie where he stood, blinking back the tears at my speech.
I looked around and beckoned Elliot to my side. Raising my glass I called out, “Here’s a toast to the best man in the room. Happy birthday, Jimmie!”
The room echoed my toast. “Happy birthday, Jimmie!”
I took a mouthful of my beer, then turned to Elliot. In a voice that only the two of us could hear, I whispered, “I love you, Quackle.”
Then I grabbed him and kissed him. With the attention of two hundred of Murray and Jimmie’s closest friends, I flung open the closet and kissed my boyfriend. Shouts and wolf-whistles erupted around us, as the crowd went wild. Elliot wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back. I looked over to see Murray grinning widely and giving me the thumbs up, while Jimmie was unashamedly crying at my gift. I watched as Murray’s arm encircled Jimmie’s waist, bent him over backwards, and smooched his lover.
It was a signal to the rest of the crowd, and although it was two hours before we rang in the New Year, each person seemed to turn to their nearest neighbour and began kissing them. I felt Elliot’s hand on my cheek and he softly said, “What did you do Hank Woods?”
I smiled broadly. “I claimed you. Proudly.”
“I love you, Hank.” And then he kissed me again.
I hope you enjoy. xx, Renae.
The Shearing Gun’s Birthday Present
Copyright, Renae Kaye 2014
The invitation came unexpectedly through the mail. I didn’t see it for hours, stuck between the letters from the bank and Elliot’s medical insurance.
I’d been into town to grab some drenching fluid for the stock and some wormer for the chooks, so I popped into the post office to pick up the mail.
“Hey, Denise,” I greeted the woman behind the counter.
She was serving old Mrs. Mackay, and smiled in my direction before yelling loudly to the elderly woman, “That’ll be sixteen dollars and forty cents.” Mrs. Mackay nodded and pulled out some money. With her parcel paid for, she turned and saw me.
“Hank Woods,” she greeted me with a smile. The woman was shrivelled in size and walked very slowly with an arthritic limp. She used to play the organ at the local Baptist church until her fingers could no longer keep up. I knew that she was a fixture in the community and especially at her church. Every single fete the church had, she was there, behind a pile of brightly-coloured crocheted blankets and baby booties.
I gulped.
Even though in the months since I’d been “outed” I’d received a lot of positive support from most sections of our community, I’d yet to run the gauntlet of “the church elders.” What would she think about Elliot moving in with me? What would she think about our “gay lifestyle”?
“I just want to say thank you, Hank,” she told me, poking a crooked finger into my forearm.
“Huh? What?” I stammered. What happened to the God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve speech?
“I want to thank you for making that lovely young doctor stick around. He’s brilliant. He’s got me on these new tablets that make me feel twenty again. I’d been trying to hook him up with some of the young ladies in town. I didn’t realise he had a thing for the boys. So I’m glad you’ve snapped him up and installed him in your bedroom. We need some fresh young blood out here. So, well done.”
I was still blinking rapidly and staring at Denise in shock when the door slammed behind Mrs. Mackay, leaving Denise giggling like mad and me unsure as to what just happened.
I grabbed my mail and left, bemused and shocked in a way that didn’t wear off for a while.
Elliot was the first to notice the invitation several hours later. “What’s this?” he asked as I mashed the potatoes for our dinner.
“I dunno,” I replied. “You’re the one looking at it. I’m over here slaving in the kitchen to feed you.”
I pulled the plates out of the cupboard and heaped our steaks, mashed potato, roasted pumpkin and boiled beans on them. I was vaguely aware of Elliot tearing open an envelope and reading it.
“It’s an invitation,” he declared.
“To what?”
“Jimmie’s birthday.”
“Jimmie has a birthday?” I was surprised. I’d never seen him celebrate one before.
Elliot gave me a look of disgust as I placed the meal on the table. “Of course he does. But he’s having a party this year. It’s his fiftieth. The party’s on New Year’s Eve and we’re invited.”
“Oh.”
I looked down at my meal and tried to hide my expression. I still wasn’t comfortable with the whole “out and proud” concept of being gay. For most of my life I’d been hiding in the closet. Even during the years I lived with Uncle Murray and his partner Jimmie, I’d hidden. Most of their friends didn’t realise I was gay, and those that did, respected my deep closet by never mentioning it.
But attending a birthday party with my boyfriend would be a statement that I didn’t know if I was ready to admit to. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with being gay, I just didn’t want Jimmie’s friends to start talking hair and musicals with me. Being outed didn’t mean that I had changed.
“Will you be able to go?” I asked Elliot. “Or will you be on call?”
Being one of only two doctors in a small country town meant that Elliot was restricted to the times he could have off. If he wasn’t able to leave town those days, I’d be able to attend solo and not have to admit to having a boyfriend back home.
“Actually, yes,” Elliot replied. “George and I were talking about it only this morning. He wants to visit his daughter for Christmas. We’ve agreed that I’ll have on call for that week and he’ll be back on the twenty-ninth. Therefore he’ll be able to cover New Years. This is great. I’d love to see Murray and Jimmie again. What should we get him for a present?”
With a sinking heart, I could see that this invitation meant a lot to Elliot. I knew I was going to have to be brave and take a step out into the unknown. Maybe with Elliot at my side, it might just be okay.
Murray and Jimmie had gone all-out with their party. They hired the local yacht club for the evening, brought in decorators, and paid a fortune for wine and finger food. We arrived on their doorstep at midday and found Jimmie in an absolute tizzy. He fluttered from room to room, never sitting for more than five seconds, stressing about minor details of the party and texting the decorator a million times.
“Oh! It’s been three minutes. Why hasn’t she messaged me back about the flowers and if she’d managed to get the pale yellow roses?” Uncle Murray, obviously from a lifetime of dealing with Jimmie, snatched the phone off him.
“Jim-Dear. She has a job to do, and you messaging her every five minutes will make her late.” He kissed Jimmie gently on his brow. “Now go and run a bath and have a soak for an hour. It’ll make you calm down. I’ll watch your phone for you.”
We all sighed in relief as Jimmie trotted off obediently. Elliot chuckled. “How do you not run from the room screaming when he gets that stressed, Murray?”
I watched as my uncle blushed slightly and looked embarrassed. “Oh, well. I love the man from top to toe. Good and bad. How can I not love him when he’s flipping out about nothing? I just remember that he was there for me. When they beat me so bad that they broke fourteen different bones in my body, he was there for me. When I couldn’t walk for six months and was a foul-mouth coot because of the pain, he didn’t run screaming. When I break down and cry thinking of that night, he holds me together. For me to smile when he asks for the eightieth time if he should wear the purple shirt or the orange shirt tonight? Well, that’s the easy part.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat at the thought of what my uncles had been through, and the strength of their love. I steeled my spine. I knew that that’s how I wanted to love Elliot – with strength and honour, unwavering in my dedication to him, for the next seventy-odd years. I could do it. And the first thing would be the party.
We arrived a little late, as we took our time getting dressed after Murray and Jimmie had departed early, so they were ready for the first guests. Elliot looked fantastic in black trousers and a brown shirt. He told me it wasn’t brown, it was burnt umber. It still looked brown to me.
I was wearing my new shirt he’d bought me as a Christmas present. I’d never owned such finery before, and I was a little nervous in wearing it. It was a steel grey colour, with a pattern that looked very citified. I felt like a fraud. I was just a farm boy.
“You’re not comfortable with attending this party with me, are you?” Elliot said in the car on the way over.
He was the man I loved. The man I adored. I couldn’t lie to him. “It’s not that I’m not proud to be with you, Quackle,” I muttered. “It’s just I think they will look at me differently.”
He nodded with a small smile. “I understand. Baby steps. You’ll be fine. No public displays of affection. We’ll just be friends unless you want to introduce me as different. I won’t kiss you in front of all those people, you know.”
“I know, Quackle,” I said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I love you.”
The yacht club was a mass of yellow and red flowers, balloons and streamers. It was packed with Jimmie’s friends and family, and everyone was chatting and having a wonderful time.
We quickly found the guest of honour and waved to him where he was surrounded by friends, then headed to the bar to pick up a drink. With a beer in my hand, I turned and saw an old mate of Murray’s, Rick Burgess. Rick was a friend from what Murray referred to as “before.” Before he’d been assaulted. Before he’d been outed. Before he’d been run out of the small country town where he was born and had worked his entire life as a farmer. Rick was one of his childhood friends who didn’t shun Murray for being gay.
“Rick,” I greeted him jovially, shaking his hand. “It’s wonderful to see you.” Then I stumbled at the first hurdle. I turned to Elliot and faltered in how to introduce him. “This is Elliot, he’s… umm….”
Luckily Elliot seized the initiative. “Elliot Montgomery. I’m the new doctor in Dumbleyung.”
They shook hands and began chatting about how dry the south of the state was. I internally condemned myself for being a wimp. The three of us discussed farming for a good fifteen minutes, debating the advantages of barley crops and questioning the new trade agreements with China.
We finally separated from Rick, so Elliot and I circulated and spent an hour speaking with friends of Jimmie’s, eating delicious concoctions brought around by uniformed wait staff, and drinking alcohol. I left Elliot arguing the latest political stunt with some person I’d never met before, and went to drain the snake.
On exiting the toilets, I approached the bar, and stood in line behind two men I vaguely remembered from some of Jimmie’s previous parties.
“Oh, yes. I could definitely have a piece of that arse,” one said.
“I reckon he could take us both at the same time,” the other said. “You can take his mouth.”
I vaguely wondered which poor chap was being talked about and silently wished the bartender would hurry up. The men continued their conversation with no worries as to who might be listening in.
“You should ask him. It could be our way to welcome in the New Year.”
“I’ve never seen him before, so he must’ve come with someone. We may have to invite them both in order to get a go at that cute arse.”
“That may be painful. What if he came with Jerry or Kevin? I really can’t make myself want them ever again. We should find out who he came with first.”
“Do you think he is one of Johnnie’s boys?”
“No. I heard someone say he was a doctor.”
My heart stopped at that comment. A doctor? It’s not like doctors were thick on the ground. But maybe they weren’t talking about my boyfriend.
“I think you may be right about the doctor. He’s rich, whoever he is,” the second man remarked. “That shirt’s from the Alexandre Mattiussi spring collection. It cost a pretty penny. I recognised the burnt umber immediately.”
Burnt umber? My gut began to boil. They were talking about my boyfriend. They were thinking about him. They were discussing him. They couldn’t have him. My fingers curled into fists as I fought the urge to smash their heads together.
“Do you think he’s gay?”
“If he’s not, it makes it even hotter when he takes it.”
I ground my teeth together and began to take deep breaths. Starting a fight at Jimmie’s party was not the way to say happy birthday. And besides, I only had myself to blame. Yes, that man belonged to someone. Me. But I’d been too bloody pigheaded to publicly claim him. That needed to be rectified.
Armed with two beers and the fruity cocktail Jimmie loved, I made my way back to Elliot. “Follow me,” I told him, uncaring that I was interrupting his conversation. I made a beeline for Jimmie and Murray where they were standing together, chatting with friends.
I pushed in front of them and handed a surprised Jimmie and Murray a drink each. Then raising the voice that could shout instructions to a dog on the other side of a paddock, I commanded an audience.
“I have something I wish to say.”
The people around me immediately quieted and stepped back, allowing me my floor.
“I want to say a big happy birthday to one of my favourite people in the world.”
More conversations died as people realised an impromptu toast was being made.
“Jimmie, you are my hero. My shining star. My uncle. I can barely remember a time when you weren’t at Uncle Murray’s side, loving him, being a partner, and being the best you could be.” I thought there might be a glimmer of tears in Jimmie’s eyes, but I continued. “Over the years, I’ve done the best I can to follow your example. Because, if I can be exactly like you, then I’ve done great.”
There were a couple of people in the crowd who called “Hear, hear”, but I ignored them.
“I know there are times in my life that you may not have agreed with my decisions, but I always knew that you were there to support me. Both you and Murray. A united team. Together. When the invitation to this birthday came through the mail, I couldn’t think of a present to give you. There was nothing worthy of the respect, honour and love I feel for both you and Murray. But two minutes ago I thought of something. Something that I knew would make you proud. Something that I knew would make this a birthday you would remember.”
By this time I had the attention of the room. Someone had turned the music down and everyone was listening to what I had to say. Uncle Murray was standing at Jimmie’s side, one beefy arm slung around the birthday boy, supporting Jimmie where he stood, blinking back the tears at my speech.
I looked around and beckoned Elliot to my side. Raising my glass I called out, “Here’s a toast to the best man in the room. Happy birthday, Jimmie!”
The room echoed my toast. “Happy birthday, Jimmie!”
I took a mouthful of my beer, then turned to Elliot. In a voice that only the two of us could hear, I whispered, “I love you, Quackle.”
Then I grabbed him and kissed him. With the attention of two hundred of Murray and Jimmie’s closest friends, I flung open the closet and kissed my boyfriend. Shouts and wolf-whistles erupted around us, as the crowd went wild. Elliot wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back. I looked over to see Murray grinning widely and giving me the thumbs up, while Jimmie was unashamedly crying at my gift. I watched as Murray’s arm encircled Jimmie’s waist, bent him over backwards, and smooched his lover.
It was a signal to the rest of the crowd, and although it was two hours before we rang in the New Year, each person seemed to turn to their nearest neighbour and began kissing them. I felt Elliot’s hand on my cheek and he softly said, “What did you do Hank Woods?”
I smiled broadly. “I claimed you. Proudly.”
“I love you, Hank.” And then he kissed me again.
