I discovered that he only ate meals he prepared with his own hands. When I was done, Grayson asked that I tie the leftovers in a bag and deposit them in the metal garbage can outside the house. I stared silently for a few moments, wondering deeply about this man I was coming to know. Between large bites of the sandwich he’d made for himself, he simply explained that the paper from the cartons emitted biochemical toxins that were poisonous to his body. At one point, I asked him to pass me one of the food containers and he refused to touch it. Although he encouraged me to eat, he wouldn’t touch any of the food. He teased that all our sex had worked up my appetite. He sat and watched me, smiling as I devoured everything on my plate with unabashed enthusiasm. He refused to allow him anywhere near the house. I was able to convince him to order Chinese food, but he would only allow the delivery man to come as close as the gate. He looked at me as though I’d asked him to get on a rocket and fly to the moon. I knew going out to dinner wasn’t an option, so I asked about take-out. Grayson offered to make me something to eat, but there wasn't much in his kitchen. I handled everything I’d found with meticulous care, trying to salvage whatever I could of his disordered past.īy the time dinnertime came, I was starving.

He did work on his computer while I cleaned and organized items from a new crate I’d found. It was slower this time, leisurely and just as wonderfully satisfying. We took a long shower together and made love again in his bed.

Grayson by Lisa Eugene