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LaShawn met him at a train station.

It was a cold November noon; the snow was falling a little earlier than usual that year. As he walked up, he thought of the ways he had changed over the years: his hair had grown out and gone wiry, his eyes were a fair deal duller, and his singing voice had developed a wobble that LaShawn had to admit he didn't exactly like. But there it was: LaShawn was getting old, and he had begun to make peace with that fact, especially with his more frequent visits to the doctor's office.

Of course, this was a minor deviation from his schedule: he had decided to take a doctor's appointment to a different place for this one appointment. Going out to the University Hospitals was a bit of an endeavor, but LaShawn was grateful for the chance to see the East Side of Cleveland once again. It also helped that he was rather close to train stations there, something that made his life considerably easier.

Of course, the station could have done without the nasty public restroom stench that LaShawn was sure everyone hated. But he braved the stairs to get up to the station.

When he reached the summit of the stairs and walked through the door out into the cold November air, he saw a parrot sitting at the bench closest to the door. That immediately caught LaShawn's attention; parrots were a rare sight north of the Mason-Dixon Line, and particularly parrots with such vibrant feathers as the green, red, white, and brownish-grey that he saw there. LaShawn assumed he was probably young, likely a college student, and he also noted that the parrot looked unamused.

LaShawn stepped forward. "Um, excuse me, sir," he said. "Do you know if the train is going to come soon?"

The parrot chuckled, vibrant brown eyes lighting up as the parrot turned his attention to LaShawn. "Funny you should ask," the parrot replied, pointing at the tracks with his thumb. "I literally got here as the train was pulling out of the station about ten seconds ago."

LaShawn shrugged. "I see," he said. He then stepped towards the bench, looking at the parrot intently. "Thanks."

The parrot nodded, not really saying much of anything else.

It was then that LaShawn took notice of the two bags the parrot had with him. One looked like a standard backpack that most students would carry around that area, but the other interested him. Printed in all-capitalized letters was the word "MOOG", a name that LaShawn thought he recognized. It was the rectangular nature of the case that really grabbed his attention, though.

After pondering a few seconds, he pointed at the case. "Sorry if I'm intruding, sir, but... what is that?"

The parrot looked back at LaShawn, then at where LaShawn's finger was pointing. The parrot chuckled, looking back at LaShawn with a smile. "Oh, this?" he asked. "It's my theremin. Old electronic instrument, you know?"

And then, LaShawn remembered.

"Ah!" said he said. "I thought I recognized that name somewhere. Moog was one of the engineers that made those things, right?"

The parrot shrugged. "Well, it's the name of the company now, but you get the basic idea," he said. "It sounds like you know something about it."

"As a matter of fact, I do," said LaShawn. "I was at a concert with some female leopard cat..." He frowned. "I forget her name, but I'm pretty sure she was Russian..."

"Lydia Kavina?" the parrot asked.

"Yes, that was it!" said LaShawn.

"Doesn't surprise me," the parrot replied. "She's one of the greats." He patted the case. "As for me... well, it happens to be one of those things I do."

LaShawn smiled. "So you're a musician too?" he asked.

The parrot frowned. "Too?" he asked. He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, don't tell me..."

LaShawn nodded. "I am in fact a tenor," he said.

The parrot's smile was rather broad. "Wow!" he said. "I happen to be a composer! Wow, this is... This is kinda crazy..." The bird chuckled nervously. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I never told you," said LaShawn. "But if you want to know, it's LaShawn."

The parrot stood up, holding his hand out to the older bear. "Art," he replied.

LaShawn took the parrot's hand, and shook it rather firmly. "So what brings you all the way up here?" LaShawn asked. "I don't think I've ever seen a parrot around here."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Art replied. "No, I'm here for school. I'm originally from Miami, you know?" He paused. "And before you ask, it's the one in Florida."

"I figured," said LaShawn. "You don't hear too much of the one up here."

"That you don't," said Art with a smile. He then glanced at the bench before gesturing to it. "Please, take a seat."

LaShawn nodded, and gratefully took a seat.

----**----

They had walked onto the train together, and they sat there talking about all sorts of things. Art was rather interested in vocal music, even as a string player. In turn, LaShawn shared some of his own exploits as a tenor. They exchanged contact information, but LaShawn had to get off the train first: whereas LaShawn was going home in the West Side, Art was going all the way to the airport to go home for Thanksgiving. Still, Art promised to call by the end of the week.

So on Saturday, LaShawn was pleasantly surprised when Art did in fact call back. They shot the shit together, talking about various music-related things. The promise of more contact was left up in the air when the call ended, but it was LaShawn who would call again in December, when Art had gone home to Miami for winter break.

And so, Art and LaShawn kept up a correspondence over the telephone. LaShawn thankfully never had a problem contacting him: while LaShawn liked to be old-fashioned in using nothing but landline telephone, Art's smart phone allowed LaShawn to contact him anywhere--probably the only time he was thankful for knowing someone in that younger generation. They spoke quite frequently, updating each other about their lives.

And then, LaShawn brought up the subject of Art sending a score of his in at some point that April. Art was more than eager to do that, and before the week was out, LaShawn had a score sitting in his post office box.

It was a setting of Federico Garcia Lorca. And it was quite big as well...

By then, though, LaShawn was not bothered by the memories of Tomás, so he set out looking at the score in earnest. Of course, he thought that one quick phone call to Art would help facilitate things quite a bit.

----**----

LaShawn heard the phone call connect.

"Hello?" the now-familiar parrot's voice said on the other end.

"Well hello, Art," said LaShawn. "How are you doing these days?"

"Oh, I'm doing well," he said. "Hey, did you get the score I sent you?"

"I did indeed," said LaShawn, smiling broadly as he glanced at the score sitting on his kitchen table. "I'm looking over it now with an old friend of mine, and it seems... It seems a little hard, doesn't it?"

"Well, that's me in a nutshell," Art replied with a chuckle. "Hard, crazy, and very chromatic." He paused. "Well, unless it's that long stretch in the second movement. Then you're talking less chromatic and less crazy."

"I guess that's true," LaShawn replied. "And how are you?"

"Oh, little old me? I'm getting ready to play opera for a month and a half out in the middle of nowhere, basically," Art replied.

"Really?" asked LaShawn.

"Yep," Art replied. "It's this little outfit out in the Arkansas Ozarks, mostly for young people, you know? I got hired to do a pit job there."

"Well, that's great, Art," LaShawn said, feeling genuinely happy for Art. "You think it's gonna be crazy there?"

"Oh, definitely," Art replied. "Won't be onstage doing anything much, but hey. Sometimes it's fun to be the guy behind the scenes, y'know?"

"No, I don't." LaShawn shrugged. "Though it makes me sad all those people out there won't see you dance."

"Haha, true," said Art. "But then again, we're not doing any Baroque opera out there, so we really don't get to do much there, you know what I'm saying?"

"That's a shame," LaShawn replied. "Especially since you don't get to shake your booty there."

"Um..." Art's tone suddenly took a sharp turn. "Why would they watch me shake my booty?"

"Well, because you'd be up on that stage dancin' and all that!" LaShawn commented. "And I'm sure you love showing off your booty while dancin' on that stage."

There was a brief pause in the conversation. "Uh... sure," said Art. "Yeah, I kinda don't..." He then chuckled awkwardly. "But in all seriousness, LaShawn, it's a viola-based pit job, so even if I could..."

LaShawn found himself glancing down at the ground guiltily. He had overstepped his bounds, he knew it. He had always thought that Art was a rather attractive parrot, but it was a thought he never dared to voice. And now, Art had taken it as such, LaShawn was sure. Maybe Art was straight, but if that was so why did he feel that Art was a kindred soul?

"Good," said LaShawn. "Well, I'm glad you're going out to do that.

The conversation continued from there, but there was an awkwardness to the rest of the call that made LaShawn uncomfortable. And even after they had hung up, he found himself feeling uncomfortable for quite some time.

----**----

Several weeks later, his phone rang. LaShawn sighed, wondering who would call at that hour of the night. He slowly pulled himself out of bed, dragging himself over to the receiver and picking up the phone. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey LaShawn!"

Immediately, LaShawn's eyebrows perked up. "Well, Art!" he said, feeling quite good that Art had not wanted to break things off. "How are you doin'?"

"Oh, I've been really busy," said Art. "It's kinda busy out here in the middle of nowhere. Nonstop rehearsals, all that jazz..." He chuckled. "Oh, and sorry if I cut out of the conversation. Cellphone connection out here really, really sucks. Strange considering that there's a small touristy town nearby, but hey, that's life, you know?"

"Yeah," said LaShawn. A heavy feeling settled in his gut, and a question rose up in his gut. "Hey, Art, I've got a question for you."

"What's up?" Art asked.

"Are..." He paused, looking down at the ground. "Are you bisexual?"

There was a pause on Art's end. LaShawn's heart raced during the pause, a knot forming in his gut. "Um... why do you ask?" Art asked, his voice sounding confused.

"Well, I..." LaShawn gulped, already fearing the shout-down that was yet to come. "The last time we talked, I talked about you shaking your booty in front of a whole crowd of people, and... Well, the way you responded, I thought it made you a little uncomfortable. I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by--"

"Wait, that's what this is all about?" Art asked.

"Um... yes..." LaShawn said.

Art laughed on the other end. "Oh my God!" He laughed a little longer, and LaShawn could imagine him shaking his head. "No no no, that's not what the issue is at all!"

"It isn't?" LaShawn asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"No," said Art. "See, the problem is that you don't 'shake your booty' in Baroque dance. No, Baroque dance is more of a choreographed thing, with rather basic movements, none of which involve presenting your ass to anyone. They did that stuff in court, you know; I'm pretty sure it would've been in very poor taste to 'shake your booty' in front of the king, you know what I'm saying?"

LaShawn's eyes widened.

"Oh. Oh!" The old bear burst out laughing, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. "You know, I don't think I ever knew that."

"Well, you do now," Art replied jovially. "And knowing is half the battle, as they say."

"I guess it is," said LaShawn. "Imagine that, it was all a semantics issue."

"Yep," said Art. "But... well..." He then chuckled nervously. "Since you asked, well... I..." He paused for a few seconds, LaShawn listening intently. "I'm... pretty sure I'm gay, actually."

LaShawn rose his eyebrows, leaning towards the receiver. "Oh. I see." He looked down, the bird's vibrant green feathers and his dark brown eyes coming into his mind. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't offend you."

"No no, it's fine," said Art. "I totally get that." There was a brief pause. "But anyway, how are things on your end?"

And so, Art and LaShawn exchanged more information, and it was then that LaShawn began to ponder something about the young parrot. LaShawn had not said anything about Tomás to Art, and that was something he planned to maintain as long as possible. But that said, he noticed that the young parrot had still wanted to talk to him even with the somewhat awkward 'shake your booty' moment.

The bear pondered if it was actually possible that Art may have been interested. As he thought of this, LaShawn got the urge to want to see Art again.

"Listen, Art," he said. "I wanted to show you some of my singing..." He looked over at his old tape player. "When are you going to be back in Cleveland?"

"Oh, I'm going to be back for a weekend near the end of July," he replied. "I'm only going to be in for a day, though, but I don't have anything planned for that..."

"Good," he said. "I am in fact free on most Saturdays."

"Oh, okay then," said Art. "I can probably come in then, and... well, we can listen to stuff..."

LaShawn nodded. "Good," he said. "Then give me a call when you're back in Cleveland, and I'll tell you how to get to my house."

"Sure thing, LaShawn," said Art. LaShawn heard some voices from off-phone, and then a few responses from Art. "Listen, I have to go. Some of my friends are heading out for drinks in town, and I don't want to be left behind."

"All right," said LaShawn. "You take care of yourself, Art."

"You too, LaShawn," said Art.

And with this, the phone call came to an end.

----**----

The wait for that late July weekend could not have been more agonizing for LaShawn. Thoughts had begun to flurry in and out of LaShawn's mind, and not all of them were savory.

He had to admit to himself that he found Art to be a very attractive parrot, and in more than just the fact that he seemed in good physical health. But LaShawn agonized over whether it was right to feel the way he felt about Art. After all, Art was just over a third his age: he was at least above drinking age, but LaShawn wondered if he was taking advantage of Art's youth in any way. LaShawn hoped this was not the case, but that doubt nagged at the back of his mind incessantly.

It caused a few restless nights, actually, and every time he did he sported both a raging hard-on and a feeling of extreme guilt.

And part of that, LaShawn knew, would be resolved at this meeting. Art was coming, he had confirmed that much, but if Art was willing to go all the way with LaShawn the bear would have his answer. Part of him told LaShawn not to worry: Art had taken a more friendly tone over the previous conversations, and the way he admitted to his homosexuality and disregarded what LaShawn saw as an indirect admission of his own bisexuality...

Nevertheless he would have an answer.

Finally, the day came.

----**----

LaShawn stepped out of his apartment building to see Art on the other side of the street, the parrot looking extremely confused.

"Art!" LaShawn shouted.

The parrot turned to the bear where he stood, smiling as he shrugged. LaShawn noticed he had the same backpack with him as before, but that he was dressed in long slacks and a grey T-shirt. "Sorry!" he shouted from across the street. "I got confused! Let me get over there!"

As soon as he said this, Art had his opportunity. He rushed across the street, running straight up to LaShawn and giving a sigh of relief. "Well, that was a long ride," he said.

"Well, Art, I am glad to see you," said LaShawn.

"Yeah, me too," said Art. He offered a broad smile, but made no move towards LaShawn. "I made good friends out in Arkansas, but sometimes you need home, you know?"

"I certainly know that feeling," said LaShawn. He then nodded. "Come on in, I have lunch sitting on the stove."

And so, LaShawn led Art into his rather small apartment. Art took one look inside, pausing at the doorway as he took his shoes off.

"Whoah..." said Art. "This apartment looks very stuffed..."

"You could say that," said LaShawn. "These are all things I've kept over the years..."

"Including porcelain dolls..." Art indicated an armoire with a few porcelain dolls on it. "Did these belong to someone?"

"My mother," he said. "I just like to keep them all nice and restored. I've got many fond memories of her."

Art nodded, giving him a smile. "It's kind of sweet when you put it that way," he said. Something in Art's tone indicated that he did not entirely believe him, but LaShawn brushed it off. "But yeah, that sounds a little crazy." He then stepped further into the apartment, depositing his bookbag in a small room off to the side. "So, you did say you had something you wanted me to listen to?"

"Yes indeed," said LaShawn, grabbing a plate in the kitchen and filling it with food. "I hope you're hungry, man, because I've got a lot of food here."

Art chuckled, stepping into the kitchen. "Oh, believe me, I'm hungry," he said. "I hope you can keep up."

And so, LaShawn and Art ate in the kitchen. It also happened that the tape player LaShawn had set up was also in the kitchen, so along the way LaShawn played him a few excerpts of LaShawn singing some jazz excerpts. There were also a few of LaShawn singing some classical art songs, and those were the ones Art seemed especially interested in. LaShawn supposed he could not blame him: after all, the setting of the Lorca had an extremely heavy bent in that direction, and with chorus and orchestra no less.

But lunch was rather tasty, the conversation and listening was quite good. And at the end of it all, Art and LaShawn found themselves sitting back around where Art had deposited his bookbag, just talking away about everything.

"So then the orchestra got more involved in that performance, right?" Art asked. "We were getting rowdy along with the performers, and we were just having a great time." He smiled, glancing behind him. "And then we got to the final chorus. You know the show, right?"

"I do," LaShawn replied. "I think there was that line... 'he thought he heard a noise'?"

"Yep," said Art. "In there, we had the chorus sing this A, right? So on the final night, I randomly had the idea to join in on that."

"And what did you do there?" asked LaShawn.

"I belted the highest A I could summon," Art replied. "It was an octave above the tenors in the chorus. No joke, it apparently projected over everybody on-stage." Art chuckled. "One of my friends in the orchestra pit called it my Steven Tyler impression."

LaShawn laughed rather loudly. "Oh, man, that is good!" said LaShawn jovially, leaning towards the parrot as the parrot laughed.

"Yeah, it is," said Art. "I still got some shit for it, but hey, I'm not gonna let some guys rain on my parade, you know?"

"Oh, I certainly do," said LaShawn.

"Yep." Art paused, and then he visibly swallowed. His smile slowly fell away, and then LaShawn noticed a rather large transition in his demeanor. LaShawn looked at the young parrot, noticing the way their legs were now touching. Art's mouth opened as if to ask something, and LaShawn could see the bird's gaze turn to the floor for a second or two.

When Art looked up, his hands had clenched into a fist.

"LaShawn... Can I ask you something?"

The bear stiffened, looking at the young parrot. "Yes?" LaShawn asked, inwardly bracing for the worst.

The bird breathed in, the breath noticeably more labored than all the ones before it. "Can I..." He looked LaShawn directly in the eye. "Can I sit on your lap...?"

And that was when LaShawn knew that Art had at least some idea of LaShawn's bisexuality. And it was then that he knew Art was interested.

LaShawn smiled warmly, feeling encouraged by this. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" he asked. "Of course you can!"

Art smiled in turn, his smile more nervous in nature. Art quickly stood up, only to position himself on LaShawn's lap a second later. The bear's left arm situated itself behind Art's back, and then LaShawn pulled the parrot close.

"Yeah, this is..." Art chuckled nervously.

"More comfortable?" LaShawn asked, patting Art's chest.

"Yeah," said Art. It was then that LaShawn saw a blush blossom across Art's cheeks. "Yeah, it's more..."

Art hesitated, LaShawn's hand trailing lower. Neither party said anything, Art gazing intently into LaShawn's eyes as he gingerly placed a hand onto LaShawn's chest.

LaShawn then leaned forward, experimentally dragging his tongue across the feathers of Art's cheek. LaShawn's heart stopped for a second, hoping Art would not jump out in fear. He knew people half his age would possibly freak out about things like that.

And yet, Art remained, the parrot starting to feel more secure within LaShawn's embrace. Art looked at him, his eyes slightly widened in anticipation, but LaShawn still saw no sign of shock. Embolded by this, LaShawn pulled Art closer, one of his hands resting squarely on the parrot's butt as he licked the bird's neck a second time, and then a third time.

Art turned his head towards LaShawn as he went in for the fourth lick. LaShawn noticed that Art's beak had opened, and before LaShawn could do much else, Art had dragged his tongue against LaShawn's.

And then, LaShawn and Art both closed their eyes as they leaned forward and shared a passionate kiss. The parrot's hands roamed across LaShawn's body, and after a while the parrot shifted positions so that he straddled the bear's lap. All the while, LaShawn and Art kissed, never breaking that intimate form of contact.

And as they kissed, relief washed through LaShawn. Art was an intelligent man, after all, and he was certainly interested. And with this interest, he realized that he was not taking advantage of Art's youth.

They broke the kiss after a while, the two of them blushing.

"Well," said LaShawn. "I was told parrots had good tongues, but that..."

"Yeah," said Art, giving another of his trademark nervous chuckles. "I've heard all kinds of things about bears in bed, but that..." He smiled, the smile sheepish and yet hinting at a growing confidence. "Should we take this to your bed...?"

LaShawn's smile was warm and inviting.

"Definitely," LaShawn said, caressing the parrot's cheek as he went in for another kiss.

----**----

LaShawn and Art had sex after that initial kiss. Feathers felt very different against the pads of LaShawn's paws, but it was a difference he got used to fast. And Art had been every bit as enthusiastic as LaShawn, and it had been wonderful for both Art and LaShawn.

Art had needed to leave soon after: he was concerned about the bus schedule, something he had made clear before his visit. With a slight wobble in his step, LaShawn had seen him downstairs and to the bus stop. Art left him with a smile, though LaShawn could have sworn that his hand trembled slightly when they shook hands. But nevertheless, Art thanked him for the food, and he was on his way.

LaShawn would not see Art in person again for some time, though the phone correspondence continued on unabated. The next time they saw each other was not until November, and that was when LaShawn was able to confirm that no, they did not in fact 'shake their booties' in Baroque dance. Art's mother was present for that, and she seemed like a very nice lady, though he avoided talking about the fact that they'd had sex.

Art and LaShawn called quite frequently afterward, and the months passed on with no physical contact from the other. LaShawn had begun to wonder if it was just a one-time thing between them, and the thought began to plague him with some guilt.

And then the parrot had invited LaShawn over to his place just under a year after the initial encounter. He said he had a chamber opera performance he wanted to show LaShawn. It had been on his graduate recital, an event Art had wanted to invite LaShawn too but was simply too busy to be able to place the call for.

LaShawn, of course, said yes. After all, it would be a chance to see the parrot again...

----**----

...and to feel him, apparently.

Art had fed LaShawn first, and once lunch was eaten they talked a little bit. The parrot did indeed have a chamber opera to show to LaShawn, and so the two of them sat at the desk on which Art's laptop sat. Of course, there was only one chair low enough for them both to sit at, so Art was the one who suggested that they both sit there, with Art on LaShawn's lap.

LaShawn did not protest. After all, it offered them a chance to be close to each other.

As they watched, the parrot's head leaned in close, and LaShawn could feel Art pull himself closer to the bear. LaShawn felt Art's smile more than he saw it, and LaShawn leaned his own head towards Art's affectionately. The bear's arm tucked itself behind Art's back, and they watched it in silence.

Finally, at a part in which the on-stage baritone was seemingly mouthing all of the soprano's words, Art pointed at the screen. "And there we go," he said. "There's your soprano."

LaShawn's eyes widened slightly at the high D of the soprano's entrance. "You gave her that note to sing?"

"Yep," said Art. "She was very up to the task." Art chuckled. "You wouldn't expect that kind of high D from an owl, but there it was."

"Indeed," LaShawn said. He looked right at the middle aged masked palm civet that was on-screen. "And that guy... That baritone... His diction could be better, but he's a damn good actor."

"Well, his speaking accent was pretty thick, so that doesn't help anyone," said Art. "But no, let me tell you: that guy had a hell of a lot of dedication. I don't think I've ever seen that much dedication in any other musician I've ever met, and I'm pretty sure this whole thing would've fallen apart without him."

LaShawn nodded. "Good," he said. "I'm glad you got someone dedicated to bringing this whole thing to life, because it sounds amazing."

Art smiled, closing his eyes and leaning closer to LaShawn. "Thanks," he said. "That... that means a lot, coming from you..."

LaShawn smiled, pulling Art closer and placing one of his hands on Art's back. "Glad it does," said LaShawn.

The two remained sitting quite close as the opera went on, and it was something that LaShawn appreciated.

----**----

They had sex again after the opera ended. It was only the second time, but this time felt far more intimate than the first somehow. LaShawn guessed that Art had managed to gain some experience somewhere, but the parrot stayed mum on that front, and LaShawn did not press. But it was good, so much better than the last time. And when they had cuddled in the afterglow, Art looked serene in a way that LaShawn had rarely seen the animated parrot look.

They stayed together for most of the rest of the day, remaining somewhat in the nude. And when the time came for LaShawn to leave, both of them were very happy.

And then Art found himself looking at the ground right at his door. LaShawn picked up on this, looking at the young parrot with some amount of pity.

"Art?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Art nodded, looking up at LaShawn. "I... I should've mentioned this earlier, but..." He sighed, glancing to the side. "I'm going to be leaving Cleveland soon."

LaShawn's eyes widened. "You're leaving?" he asked, suddenly having a flashback to Tomás.

"Yeah," he said. He sighed. "I... I'm continuing school."

LaShawn nodded. "I see..." Art had told LaShawn he had graduated a couple of months earlier, but Art had not said where he was going from there. Now that he knew where he was going... "When, and where?"

"I move out in two weeks," said Art. "And I'm going to Cincinnati." He nodded, his gaze averted from LaShawn in shame. "I'm sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, but--"

"No, don't be," said LaShawn, his hand gently caressing Art's cheek. Art looked up, looking hopeful. "Thank you for telling me. You're going on to school, and I can respect that."

Art smiled softly. "Thanks..." he said. "I'm sorry."

LaShawn simply pulled Art into a hug, the parrot easing into it. "Hey," said the bear. "I can come around next week if you want. I can send you off then."

"I... Yeah." Art leaned against LaShawn. "I'd like that."

Art gave LaShawn an affectionate lick on the cheek as he pulled back, and then the two men looked at each other. "Well... I guess I can see you next week, then," said LaShawn.

"Yeah," said Art. "See you next week..."

----**----

The third and final time they had sex was perhaps the most intimate of all. And when they cuddled in the afterglow, there was not much that was said. LaShawn could tell something weighed on Art's mind during this final visit, but LaShawn did not pry, knowing Art would probably eventually say it. The bird was nestled comfortably against LaShawn's chest, his fingers idly playing with the bear's fur. LaShawn simply ran his hand through the bird's feathers, their legs intertwining.

Finally, Art took a deep breath. "You know... You were actually my first," he said.

LaShawn's eyes widened, and he looked down at the bird. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Art replied, his eyes still closed as he pulled himself closer. "I've been single my whole life so far, and I never had an opportunity to get in it. So you..."

"I see..." LaShawn said. "I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Art's eyes opened, and he looked up at LaShawn. "You never took advantage of anything. I'm... I'm glad you were my first. You're kind, sweet, very talkative... I like that about you."

LaShawn nodded. "I guess so," he said.

Art closed his eyes again. "Anyone would be crazy if they just up and left you..." Art said.

LaShawn sighed, thoughts of Tomás coming to his head for the first time in years. "Well... That hasn't stopped others," he said sadly.

Art's eyes shot open, and then he looked up at the bear. "Did that happen?" he asked.

"Once, when I was your age," said LaShawn. "I was young and foolish then..."

Art nodded. "Oh." He resumed playing with LaShawn's chest hair. "What was he like?"

"Well..." LaShawn sighed, looking up at the ceiling of Art's apartment, with its footprints on there and everything. "His name was Tomás."

And so, LaShawn told Art all about Tomás. For LaShawn, it felt good: it was the first time he had ever really talked about Tomás since he left. Art listened intently, looking up at LaShawn as LaShawn told him about his last lover.

When the tale was over, Art nodded. "So it was a rocky relationship," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that..."

"Don't be," said LaShawn. "It's..." He paused, looking up. "I made some mistakes."

Art nodded. "Perhaps," he said. He then looked up, caressing LaShawn's cheek. "He seems like he was a nice guy, though."

"Yeah, he really was," said LaShawn. "I just... I just wish we hadn't had sex so early. Maybe then, when it got rocky..." LaShawn then looked down, shifting so that he was facing the parrot. "I'm glad I waited with you."

Art purred when LaShawn caressed his head. "Yeah, I am too," he said. "You're a good man, LaShawn, and... well..." Art snuggled closer to LaShawn. "I'm going to miss you in Cincinnati."

The bear leaned towards the bird, planting a gentle kiss on Art's forehead. "You're welcome to come back to visit me any time you want," LaShawn offered.

Art smiled. "I'll keep it in mind," he said. "And I'll definitely keep you in mind if I'm ever in town again..."

LaShawn smiled, and the bear could only reply by pulling him in close, the parrot's head resting on his chest once more.

----**----

LaShawn held Art's hand as they approached the door to his apartment. "Well, I guess this is it," he said.

"Perhaps," Art said. "I hope everything goes for the best for you, LaShawn."

"You too," said LaShawn as he turned to face Art. "I hope you find yourself a nice man some time. You're too good not to find someone."

Art nodded. "Maybe I will," he replied, lightly squeezing LaShawn's hand. "Maybe I will."

Art leaned forward, engaging LaShawn in a final kiss. When the kiss broke, Art nodded to LaShawn.

"Well, here's hoping we see each other again," said LaShawn.

"Yeah," said Art, reaching for the doorknob. "You take care, LaShawn."

"You too," the bear replied.

And with this, the parrot opened the door. He stood at the doorway for a while, LaShawn walking through the hallway to the elevator doors that were just around the corner from his apartment.

LaShawn turned one last time as he entered the elevator. He looked at Art as he stood there, burning the bright emerald feathers into his memory as Art looked at him. A brief pang of regret flashed through him in that the relationship could not have lasted longer. But all he had to do was to look to the parrot again to see that this relationship had not ended the way it had with Tomás. Art had been a wonderful person to the end.

And the way he ended it... LaShawn felt as if Art still wanted to check in from time to time.

The elevator door closed, and LaShawn sighed nostalgically.

----**----

The relationship had lasted only a year, probably even less than that all things considered. Still, LaShawn knew that he could look back on it rather fondly, especially given the way Art reciprocated his affections.

It had never been true love, he knew. He had never really made any overtures of them being more than friends the whole time, and he was still afraid to go all the way after what happened with Tomás. But LaShawn had made his peace with that fact, and from the way Art handled the whole thing LaShawn guessed that Art also understood exactly what it was. He wondered if Art was at all familiar with State Fair: the relationship had been very similar to the scenario described in one of the songs.

But in a way, that had made it special: even if it was not love, they shared something beautiful that LaShawn knew only ever happened once in a person's lifetime. LaShawn had heard the phrase "age is but a number" far too many times for comfort, but after Art he began to see that it was, in fact, true. LaShawn knew school friends that had been forever changed by Vietnam, but somehow he was able to find something close to love with someone who was only a toddler when Clinton was elected to office.

And while LaShawn had no visible picture with which to remember Art, he always had the score. That thought brought him much comfort, as did the memory of the way Art's feathers felt in his hands.

For a brief second, he had come to know what true intimacy was. It had ended not in bitterness, but in happiness.

And for that, LaShawn was grateful to God.