November 2023
"Mr... Sigurdsson? I have good news, for some value of good - it's just asthma, our tests didn't return any tumors or a heart condition."
Dr. Anthony Hewlett-Johnson handed the tuxedo cat to the Jon Snow lookalike wearing a red flannel shirt over a black Nine Inch Nails T-shirt, with jeans and Doc Martens, who was sitting uncomfortably in his office, and felt a tight ache of empathy in his chest as he watched a grown man cry, hugging the cat.
"Thank you." The man continued with a breathy, lilting, purring musical accent: "He's never had coughing fits like this before, but we moved here a few weeks ago and there's more wildlife up here -"
"Weed pollen is still a problem in Maine in November, I have to take allergy medication," Anthony said with a sympathetic nod. "Usually ends after the first frost but climate change has made that happen later and later."
"So I'm guessing he's breathing in stuff and I should get an air purifier, too."
Anthony nodded. "An air purifier with a HEPA filter would be a good idea, yes. And I'm prescribing - Snoo-der?" Anthony glanced at his chart again. "An inhaler if he has another worrisome coughing fit."
The younger man exhaled. "I've never given a cat an inhaler before, I don't know how."
"I can show you, and there will be tutorials online if you forget, OK? I can send you a followup e-mail with some links." Anthony grabbed a stool and climbed up to take down a "practice cat" dummy and a kit that included practice inhalers. As his client watched, Anthony demonstrated by securely holding the cat doll, getting the inhaler aligned, and giving a puff with the inhaler. Then, after his client put his cat down on the floor and the cat began to walk around and sniff, he practiced with the doll and the inhaler. Anthony smiled encouragingly. "Good. Feel free to give it a go a couple more times to get the hang of it."
Once his client looked like he was a little more confident doing it, Anthony said, "There you are. So, you can pick up his inhaler at our pharmacy, and we can make an appointment for a followup in a month to see how he's doing and get a refill, and go from there with refills and checkups. When you use the inhaler, it'll help if you give him some pettings to calm him down and a treat afterwards."
"Thank you again, so much." The client got choked up again.
Anthony smiled. "It's my pleasure to help precious kitties like your Snoo-der, Mr. Sigurdsson."
Through his tears, the Jon Snow lookalike gave a wry smile. "Snúður," he corrected, with a voiced fricative th-sound and a rolled r. "And Sigurðsson is a patronymic, not a family name. You can call me Sören."
On the one hand, Anthony had enough clients that he wouldn't usually remember a detail like that - unless he remembered to amend his new client file. On the other hand, he knew he'd probably remember this time because it wasn't every day he got gorgeous men in his office, with an equally gorgeous accent. He attempted to place it, and the name. "...Scandinavian?" He looked like a modern-day Viking.
"Icelandic." Sören nodded. "And you're... British?"
"Yeah, I moved here from London ten years ago." And Anthony had thought about going back to the UK several times since the rise of Trump, but UK politicians weren't much better. "What does Snúður mean in Icelandic?" He tried to pronounce it correctly.
"Cinnamon roll."
Anthony found that incredibly cute, and the mental image of a Viking-looking guy naming his cat Cinnamon Roll tickled him; Anthony grinned and Sören smiled back.
Sören gestured for his cat to come over, and Snudur came trotting with his tail in the air; after he sniffed Sören's hand he climbed onto him with a loud purr. Sören hugged the cat and gently rocked him, and then their eyes met just before Sören's eyes trailed down to the Magen David that Anthony wore daily around his neck. "You're Jewish, too?"
Anthony didn't know if this was going to be trouble or not - he knew from personal experience that antisemitism was making a comeback in Europe, which was why he'd left the UK for the US, a country with more Jews, not wanting the culture shock of making aliyah to Israel. He stood his ground, squared his shoulders, and looked Sören in the eye. "Yes, I'm Jewish."
"Hi Jewish, I'm Sören -"
Anthony groaned loudly, but couldn't help laughing.
"Cool! So am I!" Sören pulled out a Magen David necklace tucked under his Nine Inch Nails shirt.
Now it was Anthony's turn to be relieved, and he chuckled, delighted. "Shalom, brother!"
"Shalom!" Sören giggled, and as his cat reached up and batted the Magen David, Sören's free hand made the Vulcan hand salute from Star Trek.
Anthony made it back, laughing harder... and feeling a little giddy. Giddier still when he noticed the hand that was making the Vulcan salute was wearing a friendship bracelet that was unmistakably in the Progress Pride flag colors - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, brown, pink, white, and lighter blue. Not only was an extremely hot man straight out of one of his fantasies sitting across from him, being adorable with his cat and adorkable with the Star Trek reference, but he was some flavor of queer and Jewish, and Anthony didn't think Iceland had a huge Jewish population so Sören was probably very interesting to boot. And his fingers were ringless.
Anthony had been single for two years, after a seven-year relationship with a younger man that was full of ups and downs and ended with being cheated on. Since the end of the relationship he'd had a few hookups from Tinder and Grindr and gay bars, but none of them had worked out past a one-night stand or a couple of dates, and Anthony felt too old and too old-fashioned for gay male hookup culture and hadn't touched apps or gone to a gay bar in months. Also after occasional problematic remarks from his Gentile ex and hookups as well as anxiety by what had happened overseas in October 2023 and watching antisemitism spread like wildfire in the LGBTQ+ community, Anthony had decided he was only dating other Jews. But single queer Jewish men didn't exactly grow on trees, especially not out here in a small town in Maine - after years of being secular, he had started attending shul in Portland in mid-October to reconnect with his heritage and though it advertised being LGBTQ+ inclusive, he was the only gay man there, though there was a nice middle-aged lesbian couple who also attended.
Carpe that diem, Anthony told himself and cleared his throat. "So listen... Sören... I usually don't do this because it's unprofessional, but I noticed your Pride bracelet and I don't want to just assume you're single, but would you like to get together for coffee sometime soon-ish?"
Sören bit his lip and cocked his head to one side. "You mean, like a date?"
"Yeah, I mean like a date." Anthony swallowed hard, his stomach butterflies. "I don't want to make things weird, it's OK if you say no, I won't refuse you as my cl -"
Sören put up a hand, then he took a deep breath. "I accept, but something you should know first in case it's a dealbreaker. I'm trans."
"You're... a trans guy?"
"Jæja."
Anthony blinked with surprise - he couldn't tell, but then he supposed that was the point - and he nervously blurted out, "I've never been with a trans guy before."
"Is that a yes or a no for it being a dealbreaker?"
"Oh, sorry." Anthony looked into the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen, and said, "Not a dealbreaker, no, but I'm an old fart and may ask you some questions as we go so I don't end up stepping on your toes or anything." Anthony was forty-three, about to turn forty-four in February, and Sören was the first trans man he'd ever knowingly encountered in-person.
"Respectful questions are fine, já."
They exchanged numbers and e-mail addresses, and Anthony promised to call Sören when he got home from the office that night and they could discuss when and where to meet. On Sören's way out Anthony gave Snúður some pets and then affectionately tousled Sören's shoulder-length mop of curls, and the way Sören's face lit up made Anthony melt.
He didn't want to get his hopes too high - he was guessing Sören was at least ten years younger and the generation gap between Xers and millennials had been part of the problem with William - but it felt nice to even have hope for the future after so long, like a rainbow shining through the cold November rain.
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