Chapter 22 - How Far We’ve Come.

I was awakened on Christmas morning by way of a slightly damp, well-slobbered-on, catnip-filled sachet being dropped on my face by an extremely happy Bill The Cat. He was sitting on my chest purring at me with what I could have sworn was a smile on his kitty face. I batted away the smelly cat toy. Bill meowed and chased after his present.

I figured I’d had worse Christmas mornings.

I sat up, stretched, and looked out the window of Eggy’s guest room, pleasantly surprised to find the winter sun shining brightly. I know people get all sentimental about having a ‘white Christmas’ and all, but not me. I’ve never been much of a snow guy. Not even back when I was a kid; I was one of those horribly nerdy kids who liked school and therefore hated snow days. Personally, I think snow should stay where it belongs - out in the countryside and up in the mountains at ski lodges, where it can be picturesque as fuck without causing traffic accidents - leaving our city streets alone. So I was perfectly fine with a sunny, clear, ice-free holiday.

I limped to the bathroom, did my morning business while still half asleep, and by the time I was done I could smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee coming down the hall. My hermit was awake! Time to go track that man down and see if I could finagle a Christmas Morning Kiss!

I padded down the hall and in through the open door to his rooms to find Brian staring into the maw of his refrigerator. He looked up when I cleared my throat, giving me what seemed like a worried smile. Now, what the fuck could he possibly be worried about this early in the morning? And how could I take away that frown line creasing his forehead?

“Ho, ho, ho and a Merry Morning to you, Eggy! Did I smell coffee?” He tilted his head in the direction of the coffee maker so I enthusiastically helped myself. “Mmmmm. I really needed that.” Poor Egbert was still looking into his fridge so I decided to help. “Something I can help you with there? Or are you just trying to run up your electricity bill for no reason?”

With a little more teasing, Brian admitted that he’d been trying to figure out whether or not he could safely cook us something nice for breakfast. I suggested that it would probably be less dangerous if I took over food preparation and Brian gratefully let me. But when I opened the fridge again, I was surprised at how much food I found there - the last time I’d looked, there hadn’t been anything besides the bagels & cream cheese Brian subsisted on along with a case of beer. This morning, however, I found eggs, imported European cheddar cheese, even some veggies. It was truly a Christmas Miracle!

“Were you planning a party that you didn’t invite me to, Egbert?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian scoffed. “I just . . . You’re always sleeping over and I got tired of you bitching about there never being any food, so I figured I better stock up.” He shrugged and tried to look completely unconcerned, but I was onto him. “So you better eat up before it all rots and I’m out a shit ton of money for wasted food.”

“You are seriously the sweetest hermit I’ve ever met!” I insisted, setting the carton of eggs and the brick of cheese on his counter before walking over to where Brian was standing while he supervised my efforts. “Prepare yourself, Eggy, because I’m going to kiss you now,” I warned. And, getting no complaints, I followed through on my threat by lifting onto my toes, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck, and pulling his lips down to meet my own. “Thank you for caring enough to feed me.”

So there was kissing. Quite a lot of kissing actually. Enough kissing that I almost forgot about breakfast for several long minutes. And it was so good and fulfilling; I loved the way Eggy would nibble at my lips as if he was feeding off my kisses. It somehow surpassed even the more animalistic kissing episodes I’d had with prior men despite being relatively restrained; this was better because it was my own private recluse doing the kissing and I knew how much harder it was for him to open himself up like that. So I let him nibble at me and I nibbled back at him until things got to the point where I knew I’d better stop before I lost control of my nibbling, and my better judgement, and ate him whole.

“Best Christmas morning ever!” I enthused as I finally pulled away. As soon as my lips were no longer engaged, though, my stomach let out an insistent growl just to remind me what it was that started this whole kissing thing. “Oops. Guess we should get back to business here. How about omelets?”

We quickly combined efforts to get our holiday feast cooked and laid out. I did most of the actual cooking while Brian took care of disinfecting all the dishes, surfaces, and other appurtenances, made the toast, and then set us up on his little coffee table. It was cozy but so, so nice. Why was it that eating hastily whipped up eggs and toast, while sitting on the floor with Eggy, and without a single holiday decoration in sight, felt so much more festive than any multiple course meal served on silver platters at a formal dining table that had been decorated by professional caterers? Maybe it was the company that made it feel more holiday-ish? Whatever, I was allowed to enjoy myself wherever, right? In the end I decided not to overanalyze it and to just let the enjoyment happen.

Also, it wasn’t exactly true that there wasn’t a single decoration. There was one thing there. Okay, technically two, if you wanted to count. But Brian didn’t notice my decorative contribution until a good ten minutes into our breakfast - probably due to how mesmerizing my personality was, right? - and when he did, he almost choked on the bite of toast he’d been attempting.

“Uh, Sunshine, “ Brian gulped loudly. “Why are your dirty, old socks hanging off my nice, clean bookcase?” he asked worriedly.

“Because you don’t have a fireplace,” I replied.

“What, exactly, does my lack of a fireplace have to do with your dirty socks being draped over my furniture?”

I huffed with exasperation - I mean, who was this guy that didn’t know about hanging up stockings on Christmas? Granted, usually this tradition involved ornamental stockings and not the pair of dress socks I’d worn the day before, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? I had done the best I could with what I’d had on hand. Well, make that ‘on foot’. Sheesh. I guess Brian wasn’t just joking about never having done Christmas before.

Instead of trying to explain, I got up to my feet and limped over to the bookcase - I hadn’t bothered with the boot cast that morning so I was a little slow and awkward - retrieving the socks so I could bring them back to the table with me. Brian looked as though he might be sick when I set them down next to my plate. I was sure there would be a shit ton of disinfecting going on soon. Whatever. First there would be presents.

“Hold out your hands,” I directed him, shaking my head at the cringing way he tentatively complied. “I promise you’ll like this . . . and you won’t have to actually touch my sock . . . unless you want to of course.” I loved teasing him.

He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. I guess that was a firm ‘no’.

When Eggy’s hands were in place, I upended the fuller of the two socks over his palms, allowing the contents to slither out. Brian ended up with a palmful comprised of one orange, a few assorted candies, and a small grey box tied up with a grey ribbon.

“You must have been a very good little boy this year, Eggy. Look what Santa brought you,” I teased as I emptied my own stocking. Mine contained another orange and lots more candy but no gift box. “Mmmm. Apparently I was a good boy too.”

“What the actual fuck? Who puts food in their socks?” Brian asked, still looking at the items he was holding as if they were potentially contaminated with plague germs - okay, so I suppose I hadn’t thought this part out very well.

“Stop being difficult and open your gift,” I ordered, trying to distract him before he totally wigged out.

I could tell it was killing him to not be able to wipe his hands off after all this, but he was trying to brave it out. Damn he was getting good at this. Maybe all my crazy, unpredictable ways - up to and including putting presents in dirty socks - were good for him after all? Who knew? But, after only a moment or two of hesitating, he set the small gift box down on the table and started to undo the ribbon holding it closed.

Once the lid was lifted, it revealed a small cube made up of two-hundred-some small magnetic beads. Each bead was tinted in various bright, primary colors and, when assembled, they made up a whole rainbow. You could take them apart and reassemble them in any way or shape you liked, making the toy just about the most amazing time waster ever invented. It wasn’t much of a gift, really, but back before I’d hurt my ankle, Daph and I had been out shopping one day and got caught up looking at a display of fidget spinners and other gadgets. Daphne had mentioned that stuff like that would be great for my OCD recluse since they helped provide a positive outlet for stress, giving the brain something physical to focus on rather than the rituals and intrusive thoughts he would otherwise be dealing with. So I’d happily shelled out the few bucks in my wallet for the little toy. What the fuck, right? If he hated it, I figured I could play with it when I came to visit.

“But . . . you already gave me a present,” was Brian’s only comment.

“So? Something tells me you’ve been extra good this year,” I winked.

Brian scoffed loudly at my comment, like that was so far from the truth he couldn’t believe it, which broke my heart a little and was something I would have to come back to at a later point.

“A guy’s allowed more than one present,” I countered. “Especially if he’s making up for lost time in the present-receiving department.”

“I . . . Damn it . . .” Brian cursed me before stomping off, out of the room, leaving me totally confused by whatever had just happened. When he came back a minute later, he was carrying a large, oblong package wrapped in what looked like cut up paper shopping bags under his arm. “Take it,” he ordered, practically dropping the heavy object in my lap.

“You got me a present? Awww, Eggy! You really didn’t have to,” I gushed while trying to maneuver the bulky package around. “Wow! It’s really hefty.”

While I struggled with the unwieldy parcel, Eggy stood nearby, fidgeting and agitated. I really hadn’t been angling for any present in return from him. The shadow box thing had just sorta come about organically as I was going through the leftovers from my school project; I hadn’t started off with the idea of making it specifically for Brian, but when it was done I knew I wanted him to have it. And the little toy was even more of an afterthought. So, getting a present back was truly a welcome surprise, especially since Eggy hadn’t known I was coming over the night before.

It didn’t take me long to begin tearing off the paper the gift was entombed within - I wasn’t one of those finicky unwrappers, I just ripped right in - and I could immediately tell it was a piece of art by the corner of the frame that emerged first. But it wasn’t until I’d pulled all the paper off that I realized what Egbert had given me. It was the beautiful Henry Fitch Taylor painting that I’d been admiring in his conference room the day we discovered the hidden staircase.

“Oh, Brian! I . . . I can’t take this. It’s way too much! This painting should probably be in the damned Smithsonian, for fuck sake, not my grubby little utility apartment,” I insisted, trying to get to my feet so I could hand the painting back to him although, what with my wonky ankle, that was an almost hopeless effort. “Thank you so much, but I just can’t accept.”

“Bullshit! You said you liked it, so it’s yours. I have, like, a million old moldy paintings in this place; I sure as hell don’t need it,” Brian insisted stubbornly.

“But this painting is worth a LOT more than my little art project, Eggy. Are you sure you don’t want to rethink this?” Brian shook his head at me waved his hand dismissively like it was silly of me to even try and demur. “Okay, but . . . I seriously have nowhere to hang something like this. How about this - you can just keep it here for me in your conference room for the time being and if I ever do get a nicer place to live, I’ll take it with me then. Okay?”

Brian seemed to weigh that option for a minute, on the verge of disagreeing, but then I did my eyelash batting thing at him and he caved. Thank fuck for being blond, amirite? Having won my compromise, I carefully set the painting aside, climbed to my feet and limped over to give him a thank you kiss, which he graciously accepted. Did I mention how good Eggy was getting at the kissing thing? I would have been proud if I wasn’t so distracted by his lips and the way his beard tickled and the smell of his cologne and . . . well, pretty much everything about this enticing man was distracting, to be honest, but distracting in an oh-so-good way.

Needless to say I was a little miffed when our gift-inspired make out session was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Who was calling me on Christmas morning? I sighed, gave Eggy’s bottom lip one last nibble, and then pulled my phone out of my pocket. A glance at the screen showed that my caller was one Daphne Chanders - okay, so that made sense, I guess, because she probably just got home from her overnight shift at the hospital and freaked at finding me gone.

“Where are you? You’re not supposed to be galavanting all over on that ankle, you know,” she barked at me the minute I said ‘hello’.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Daphne,” I replied acerbically.

“Don’t Merry Christmas me, you little asshole. Why isn’t your invalid ass in bed where it belongs?”

“I’m fine, Daph. I had to go to my dad’s last night for the usual hoopla and afterwards I had the driver drop me off at Egbert’s instead of going home. We’re just having breakfast and opening presents - which you interrupted, by the way.”

“Oh. Well, okay,” Daph sounded like that had taken the wind out of her sails pretty effectively. “How’d he like your box thingy?”

“How’d you like the box thingy, Eggy?” I relayed Daphne’s question to the man standing next to me.

“It’s not bad,” Brian responded with typical understatement and a smile hidden in his bushy beard.

“Hear that, Daph? ‘Not bad’.”

“High praise indeed,” she laughed through the phone speaker. “So, are you still going to your mom’s for brunch and, if so, do you need me to pick you up on my way to my ‘rents?”

“That would be great, Daph,” I gratefully accepted. “Otherwise, I’d have to shell out for a cab and that could be difficult on Christmas Day.”

She confirmed she would be over to pick me up in about an hour and hung up.

“Now, where were we?” I asked my kissing companion.

“That’ll be Daphne to pick me up,” I announced when my phone began to buzz an hour or so later.

In the interim, Egbert and I had finished our breakfast, dressed, and then spent most of the rest of the time cleaning up. I had assisted him in the cleaning efforts, although I’m not sure how much help I’d been. He seemed to think he had to clean up after my cleaning up, so it probably just made more work for him, but I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while Brian scrubbed and disinfected the whole apartment. He did seem quite grateful when I finally removed the socks I’d used in lieu of Christmas stockings - yeah, I might never live that one down. But eventually even Eggy ran out of things to clean.

So, when Daph texted that she had arrived, we were ready for her. Brian helped me down the stairs - did I mention that we really needed to talk about him relocating to a lower floor or else putting in an elevator - and opened the door for the newest person to invade his solitary tower. Daphne bounced in and offered up seasons greetings to us both with her usual bubbliness. Brian was being very brave and trying to act all nonchalant about having this stranger in his building, but I could tell how antsy it was making him even though, so far, Daphne hadn’t ventured further than the lobby. It was a start though, right?

“So, when do I get a glimpse of that mystery room in your basement that Justin’s told me all about? You do realize he’s in love with your building, right?” Daphne kidded Brian, presumably just to try and lighten the mood, but in the process hitting on a bit of a sore spot for my poor, insecure hermit. “Although, I don’t think the building alone is what keeps bringing him back here.” Daphne added a wink directed towards Brian as if to include him in on the joke.

“I . . . uh . . .” Brian stuttered, apparently caught off guard by Daphne’s forwardness.

I jumped into the conversation in an effort to spare my poor befuddled boyfriend. “The hidden room is pretty cool, though. I just keep thinking there’s got to be some mystery behind it. I mean, why else would you hide it behind a fake wall and all? I just wish I hadn’t hurt myself before I managed to figure out where that damn tunnel leads.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you go back down there alone, Twat. With your luck, the whole fucking ceiling will collapse on your head next time,” Brian warned with a stern look.

“Justin HAS always been a bit accident prone. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had to drive him to the urgent care over the years,” Daph commented, prompting me to swat her in the gut with a well-aimed back hand. “But if you want, I could always go with him next time he goes exploring. I’m usually able to mitigate the worst of his crazy ideas.”

“Hah! As if you weren’t the instigator of at least fifty percent of those ‘crazy ideas’ yourself,” I shot back at her and we both broke out laughing. “But that’s not actually a bad idea, Daph. I know you don’t care much for the basement, let alone the tunnel, Eggy, but Daph and I could at least check it out and hopefully reassure you that the tunnel doesn’t lead to anywhere unsafe. In fact, we could do it right now - I don’t have to be to my mom’s until 1:00pm, so we technically have time. You up for a short exploratory mission, Daph?”

Brian immediately cautioned with an, “I don’t know,” at the same time Daphne erupted with an enthusiastic, “YES!”.

I’d already started to tug Eggy over towards the door that would let us into the empty pizza place, though, so his objections mostly went unacknowledged. Me on a mission means no stopping and damn your logical concerns. Don’t hate me for my enthusiasm, okay?

And before Brian could even fully enunciate his qualms about me once again venturing into the spooky tunnel under his building, I had dragged Daphne down the basement steps, shown her the tricky latch mechanism with the offset brick, and hobbled into the secret room. Brian followed behind us, reluctantly, but seemingly unable to let us go on our own. He hovered just inside the doorway to the hidden room, shuffling his feet nervously and looking worried. He was concerned enough, actually, to come over and grab my shoulder as I was pulling open the door to the tunnel.

“Are you sure you should be doing this with your ankle like that,” he asked, pointing to the bulky boot cast that admittedly slowed me down a little. “I’m not sure my liability insurance can handle you getting hurt again.”

“I’ll be fine, Brian. I promise. And this time I even have Daphne with me as backup.”

”Surprisingly that doesn’t make me feel any better . . .”

“I know. But maybe, in the end, this will help you worry less. I mean, if we find that the tunnel just dead ends in a blank wall or something, won’t you feel better about it all?”

He shrugged, which I took as tacit permission to carry on. I gave his hand a last squeeze, hoping that it would reassure him without freaking him out because of the unsolicited touching, and then nodded to Daphne to indicate I was good to go. Daph and I both took out our phones to use as flashlights and we set off. Brian stayed where he was in the doorway, watching and looking worried and so damn adorable that I had to force myself to turn away from him so I didn’t trip again.

This time, though, I was much more careful of the debris on the uneven floor. Even so, Daphne kept one hand under my elbow to prop me up. The tunnel appeared to be heading roughly northwest, which would take us on a long diagonal underneath Liberty Avenue heading towards the intersection with 9th Street. We quickly made it past the one spot with the biggest pile of rubble and after that the walking was a lot easier. It helped that it was daylight out for this attempt, meaning that there was at least a little light coming into the tunnel through the couple of skylights positioned in the ceiling above our heads. Even so it was dank and musty and the air was thick with brick dust, causing both of us to sneeze occasionally. When we were about halfway down, we both got a little freaked as what felt like a large truck rumbled down the road over our heads and shook the whole tunnel. Luckily the walls held despite the shower of dirt raining down on our heads and, after the trembling from above stopped, we carried on.

As we passed under the first skylight, both Daph and I tried to look up to see if we could confirm where we were. Unfortunately, the glass bricks that made up the skylight were far too scratched and occluded by dirt to allow us to see anything. Just as we were about to move on, a person-shaped shadow momentarily passed by the light source, dimming our tunnel for the moment, before moving on. This confirmed my suspicion that the skylight was part of the sidewalk along Liberty Avenue and that we must, by then, be somewhere under the walkways lining the north side of the street.

Within only a half-dozen meters beyond the first skylight, there was another, this one illuminating a leftward bend in the tunnel. Judging by my knowledge of the street layout in the area, and estimating the distance back to where the tunnel began to be somewhere around 60-65 meters, I surmised that the first skylight was probably located in the sidewalk on the north side of Liberty Avenue and that the second was situated on the east side of 9th Avenue, with the tunnel below cutting across the diagonal of that street corner. The bend in the tunnel wasn’t quite a full ninety degree turn - more like one hundred twenty, if I were to judge it - so that would mean that it continued roughly west by southwest, following generally parallel to Liberty Avenue and taking us underneath the block of buildings between 9th Street and Tito Way, or what used to be known as 8th Street. In my head, I was tracking our progress on a mental map as we continued, trying to match up our position with the buildings I knew were above, but it got a little more difficult after we turned that bend because there weren’t any more skylights so it made it harder to judge distances.

The second half of the tunnel was in a lot better condition than the first half. There was a lot less debris on the floor and the plastering on the walls was pretty much intact. This meant our progress was even faster for this leg of the journey. We made it down the length of this section in only a couple minutes. This section was about the same length as the first part, so maybe another 60 meters or so, and at the end we could clearly see that there was another door just like the one that led into Eggy’s building. Along the right hand side of the tunnel, we found at least two spots where it looked like other doorways had been bricked in, which made sense if these tunnels had been more widely used in the past - something that seemed plausible considering how elaborate and extensive the tunnels were. But what we hadn’t expected to see, and what only became clear once we were almost up to the door, was that the tunnel branched off yet again, with another bend angling away leftward and heading directly south.

“Shit! How many tunnels are there under the streets of Pittsburgh,” Daphne echoed my own thoughts perfectly.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think Eggy’s going to like what we’ve found. He’s going to freak out big time when I tell him that the tunnel doesn’t just end around the corner.” Daphne was nodding sympathetically at the same time she was trying to tamp down the enthusiasm for adventure that we were both feeling. “So, shall we see where this door leads or continue down the tunnel further?”

“I say we try the door first,” she chose, stepping away from my side and reaching out to grab the knob with a mischievous glint in her big brown eyes.