Sunny is Warm

Chapter One

Ice Cold

Waking up with Sunny next to him wasn’t as fun as Erik remembered. For one, Sunny couldn’t do the same positions as he used to, and every movement from his arms reaching for the ringing telephone to his torso contorting and rubbing against Sunny’s cold skin was very uncomfortable. Propping himself up against his bed, he ran his fingertips over Sunny’s head, who remained asleep next to him. His cream coloured skin painted along the grooves of his heat sinks defining his body. His four wheels, forming tents under the blankets. The wires attached to the landline uncurled into a straight line reaching to his ear, he wondered if he could unplug the telephone and connect Sunny to the outlet instead.
 	“Hello?” Erik answered.
Static made the first greeting, followed by a shy feminine sounding voice on the other end of the line.
	“Hi there”, she replied, “Barber?”
	“Excuse me?” he retorted “This is Erik speaking”.
There was a pause, glancing at the base of the phone, to see if he had hung up by accident, Erik remembered that he was holding onto a landline. When was the last time anyone called with a landline? He thought to himself.  
	”Oh, well hello Erik”, she replied, “Are you a barber, or do you happen to live with one?”
	“No, there’s no barber here, It’s just me and my-”, Erik looked down at the radiator lying by his hips, and adjusted his eyes to look beyond his bed. 
	“Nevermind that”.
A small sigh, she seemed tired, or maybe disappointed. 
	“Okay well, I’m sorry to have bothered you”, she pauses, “before I go, are you sure you don’t happen to know any barbers?”
Rubbing his eyes slowly to readjust to the midday sun beaming into his room, he replied. 
	“I can’t say I have, is that all then?”
	“No, there's more-”
	“-Oh, Brilliant-”
	“-I met someone recently, my god he was beautiful. I mean, you should have seen his hair, it was perfect”. 
	“He is a barber I suppose”, Erik replied, head leaning against his knuckles as his elbow lay atop of Sunny.
	“Yes I suppose you're right, but we spoke for a while. At first I asked him if he had any famous clients but he said he only cuts young people's hair. So naturally I asked him what the youth were like these days and then he said-”
Slowly craning his head to meet Sunny’s he gestured his hand to the phone with an annoyed look,  am I still the crazier one in this scenario? He thought to himself. 
	“- What a joy it was to be young we were saying, lying on your stomach in bed, flipping through the phonebook to call the boy you like’s name, your finger curling the wire, the deep breaths before dialing”. 		
	“Right yes, those were good times I’m sure ma’am. But that reminds me, how did you get this number?”
She paused for a moment. 
	“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” she replied, confusedly. 
	“It is?” Erik replied, equally as confused. 
She let out a giggle. 
	“Well, the phone book.”
What century was she calling from? Was this some kind of prank call?
	“Lady, who the fuck, still uses a phonebook?”. 
	“Oh for god's sake, I’m sure plenty of people still use phone books”, her reply sounding as if this wasn’t her first time explaining herself. 
	“I swear they stopped making those years ago”
Any focus on Sunny’s sound sleeping was lost from this point. 
	“I know it totally sucks!” she giggled, “I’m using a copy from twenty eighteen”.
	“So you just had a two thousand and eighteen edition of the local phonebook lying around and you're using it to find a barber’s number?”
There was a long silence, the static chimed in once and a while, she finally answered back. 
	“No, I borrowed it from the library obviously”.
	“Yeah, no, stop wasting my fucking time. Goodbye”. 

Slamming the landline down was quieter than Erik had expected, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the cheap plastic covering or from his miniscule strength. Getting out of bed was an even greater feat of strength, stretching his arms in the air as he stumbled his way to the mirror. Long stretches of white dressings wrapped around his torso and padding across his inner biceps. A normal shirt wouldn’t fit in a state like this. A dressing gown will have to suffice. When Erik came back into the room, Sunny was still fast asleep. Leaning over the bed, he brushed his hand over the grooves of Sunny’s side. 
	“Good morning”, Erik smiled, “How did you sleep?”.
Sunny didn’t reply. 
	”It’s one of those mornings then, let’s get you out of bed”. 
He dragged Sunny out of the bed and gently placed him on the floor, the extension cord wrapped tightly around his hands as he wheeled Sunny out the door. There was much to do, starting with breakfast. 

To the unsuspecting passerby, they might have thought someone was skateboarding down the street as Sunny’s wheels ached across the pavement. Before anyone could so much as frown at the supposed teenagers, they were met with the even bigger disappointment of a man in his early thirties in a dressing gown, wheeling his radiator down the street. The jeers from locals didn’t matter to Erik. In the beginning, he preferred Sunny to stay in the house while he went about his work, but the unfamiliarity of a world without his warmth became quickly unbearable. 

Finally arriving at a vending machine a couple blocks from where the next restaurant to review is located. The vending machine sat under a street lamp, the curb only inches away. It gazed forward onto a pedestrian zone and joining on the gazing was a much older man, leaning against the side of it. One of his shoulders protruded further than the other as he kept his hands warm in his tattered jeans and you could make out the wisps of greying hair under his beanie. As Erik approached closer to the vending machine, his eyes didn’t move from where they were looking. 
	“You don’t mind if I-” Erik asked, gesturing to the vending machine. 
The old man, still staring out in the distance. 
	“No, fire away”, he replied.

	Sometimes vending machines appealed more to Erik than restaurants, they usually kept a similar selection and the prices stayed the same. The restaurants he reviewed always wanted to be different, always thinking they could change the culinary world forever. And somehow, despite always having the same selection, it was always so daunting deciding what to choose, pursing your lips and squinting at the same bag of crisps or bar of chocolate you can find anywhere else.
	“Be careful, young man.”, the old man replied, interrupting Erik’s train of thought. 
	“I’m sorry?”
Tilting his head against the machine, replied. 
	“Whatever choice you make,” he paused, “it might have lasting consequences”. 
The old man’s eyes pierced into Erik’s mind as if he were probing into his thoughts,  does he know me from somewhere? Erik thought to himself. 
	“What- what do you mean?” Erik asked. 
	“Your drink”, He said, “you might not like it and waste your money”. 
Any tension quickly subsided as Erik awkwardly nodded before glancing down at Sunny, the man continued. 
	“If you're so worried, maybe stick to something you know you’ll like”, he paused, “like a coca-cola”. 
Erik’s eyebrows furled at this comment, it was the wrong answer. 
	“I fucking hate coca-cola”, Erik muttered, looking at the row of red cannisters standing out from the rest of the drinks, the old man crossed his arms. 
	“Stop lying son, everyone likes coke”. Said the old man. 
Erik turned to the old man and took a good look at the rags he called clothes and his red nose kissed by autumn season. 
	“Yeah, you look like you love coke”. Erik replied, grinning to Sunny to see if he heard him.
Sunny didn’t react. 
	“I certainly do, can’t go wrong really, best served cold”, he replied, “Although a man of my size should be drinking a diet co-”.
Tuning out whatever the old man might be saying, Erik picked out a canned coffee and a bag of nuts to share with Sunny. As he shuffled away from the vending machine, he could hear the old man mutter to himself about cola. His grip on Sunny’s extension cord got tighter, the old man was right, he loved cola. But a vending machine was the last place he wanted to find it.

                                                                          _________

	“Please take a seat here Mr. Donovan”, the waitress said, pulling out two chairs, “Our special tonight is the Hunan Chili Sea Bass”. 
Erik settled into the chair and his partner followed after. Pulling a small notebook and laying it gently on the table, Erik slowly looked up at the waitress with a look of determination. 
	“And the menus?” Erik asked, gesturing to the empty table. 
	“I’ll be back with those in-in -a moment”, the waitress replied flusteredly. 
His glare locked onto the waitress, Erik leaned back, unbuttoning the jacket of suit before jotting something down on his notebook. 
	“She looks new”, Erik’s partner replied, “You could go easier on her”. 
His lips were pursed in a worried manner and his hands clasped together, as if he were holding back emotions. 
	“Not how it works I'm afraid”. 
Pacing her way to the table, the waitress returned with a wide eyed smile without the eyes to back it. 
	“Now, one for you”, she placed the menu in front of Erik, “and one for your colleague”. 
His partner’s neck twitched slightly as he opened up the contents of his menu while his other half pretended to be engrossed in the menu. 
	“Should we start with something to drink?” 
	“What’s your wine selection like?” Erik asked. 
	“Well, our Pinot Grigio pairs well with-”. 
	“That will do”. 
The waitress nods, there’s a brief thirty seconds in which both Erik and the waitress are taking notes, as if they were studying his partner’s uncomfortable face. 
	“And for y-”
	“And yourself, Benson,” Erik interrupted. 
Benson’s hands lift from under his face as he raises them slightly in the air, his mouth opens but no words come out. 
	“I will- I’ll have a bottle of coke I guess”, Benson replied. 
Another painful few seconds of scribbles continued until the waitress flipped her notebook closed. Following her movements, Erik took notice of the most baffling sight he had ever seen in his long career of being a critic. The waitress scooted her way across the tempered panels of the floor and along the hand painted wall papers that divided the restaurant's rooms. It was at the end of the waitress’s journey that he saw it, its red lights illuminating an otherwise harmonious front house sticking out like a neon sign outside an alleyway. The magical words in that delicate Spencarian script stood out against the fridge with the words “COCA-COLA”. 

	Benson looked up at Erik, for once he recognised an expression that wasn’t his stern professional face, he looked stunned, mouth slightly agape and wide eyed.
“Unbelieveable”, Erik muttered under his breath. 
When he turned to look at what was so remarkable, all he could see was the waitress taking a bottle of coke from a fridge amongst a selection of drinks. She returned to the table with a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. 
	“Now sir, enjoy”, She said, “as for you, your wine will be here in a moment”. 
	“Hang on a second, I have a question”, Erik asked. 
The waitress stood upright and took a breath through her gritted teeth. 
	“Of course”. 
With his finger stretched out towards the distinct coke fridge, he asked. 
	“What is that?”
Turning her hair from the fridge to the Erik like wind-up clock, she replied. 
	“The fridge?”
Erik stared at the waitress while slowly writing something down.
	“That’ll be all, thank you.”

	Erik scoffed at the waitress and gestured his hands towards her general direction as she walked away. He eagerly wrote down a few extra lines into his notebook. 
	“What’s the problem?” Benson asked. 	
	“The problem is that massive eye sore sitting in what’s supposed to be a fine dining establishment”, Erik remarked. 
	“I don’t mind it”. 
Erik scratched his temple with his free hand. 
	“Oh really, do you want one in your own restaurant?”.
Taking an extra glance at the fridge behind him, Benson turned back around and rested his head to his palm. 
	“Did you know, when a restaurant first opens up. The Coca-cola company will offer you a fridge free of charge”, Benson exclaimed, staring off into the distance. 
	“Oh you did your research did you?”
Gently lowering his hand onto Erik’s hand still on the notebook, he replied. 
	“The fridge is a relic, just a part of the restaurant's past”.
Erik’s eyes darted around the dining floor to see if any patrons noticed before recoiling his hand away. 
	“Yeah well, it doesn’t belong here”. 
	“I think it does,” Benson replied, “I think it was left there for a reason”.
	“And what reason could that be”, said Erik with an unconcerned look.
	“With a fridge like that, in a restaurant like this”, he paused, “they must’ve come a long way”
He continued.
	“And they kept here, as- as a symbol”. 
	“A symbol of what?”	
	“Authenticity maybe? Staying true to yourself?”
 
There was a long pause before Benson’s next question, it was one that Erik never thought he would have to answer, or rather one he avoided answering. 
	“Are you true to yourself, Erik?”

                                                                                _________

This Italian restaurant was just like any other. The same checkered table cloths, the black aprons covering tucked in white shirts and the watercolour paintings depicting the countryside towns that you have at some point day dreamed about visiting. New restaurant openings always struggle to find their footing so they try to be the same as everyone else, this couldn’t be him. The entrance to the restaurant had several steps to the main door, and carrying Sunny was no easy feat. When he finally arrived at the front desk, he was met with two waiters with their arms crossed by their waist. The normal friendly customer service smile was replaced with a look of confusion and concern. 
	“Reservation for seven, thank you”, Erik exclaimed. 
The two waiters glanced at each other before checking the books. The first waiter ushered the other to look at the book and pointed at it. The second waiter looked up. 
	“You’re Erik Donovan?” he asked. 
	“Yes, what about it?”. 
He turned back to the first waiter and they whispered to one another, between mutters and sounds, Erik could piece out “maybe a mistake?”, “look at him”, and finally “we need this”. They stepped back and the second waiter nodded slowly to him. 
	“Right this way sir, thank you for choosing to dine with us”, he exclaimed, “please, follow me”. 
Before Erik could pursue the waiter, the first waiter quickly blocked Erik’s path with his arm. 
	“I’m sorry sir”. He paused, “but the radiator must stay behind”. 
	“He’s with me, it’s fine”. Erik said attempting to continue walking before being stopped again. 
	“I’m sorry, but we don’t want to disturb the other diners”. 
Looking down at Sunny, he patted the top of the radiator before nodding at the waiter. 
	“Fine, but take good care of him”.
	“Certainly, but one more thing, please put this on”. The waiter replied, pulling out a blazer to wear rather than his dressing gown. 

	Taking a seat in the centre of the dining room, Erik’s eyes surveyed every inch of the restaurant in search of a coca cola fridge. But it was to no avail. Eventually his eyes glossed over by the bar, there he saw two men bouncing their arms. Their hands were obscured by the counter but he could hear them whisper in unison “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot”, the game concluded with one of the waiters covering his eyes with his palm and groaning signalling that he lost. Moments later the waiter who had lost the game arrived at his table. 
	“Good Evening Mr. Donovan, I will be your server today”, he exclaimed, placing a menu in front of Erik. 
Erik grunted. 
	“Anything to drink before you order?” the waiter asked. 
	“Do you have coke?” Erik asked. 
The waiter looked up from his notebook. 
	“We have Pepsi, is that okay”. 
A deep sigh exited Erik’s mouth as he buried his head in his hands. 
	“Fine.”

Chapter Two

Luke Warm

When Erik awoke the next morning, he was lying away from Sunny, his back turned to the layered metal. He attempted to kick his legs under the covers like a radio signal probing for its nearest recipient. The first two attempts were a failure, maybe he was further away in the bed than he thought. So Erik stretched his leg as far as he could, contorting his body to reach further before swinging his leg again until his shin was met with the dense surface of the exterior. 
	“Sunny!” Erik exclaimed, clutching his shin, “fuck.”
As the pain continued to pulse through his shin, the landline rang again. He let out a groan before sitting up in the bed, rubbing his hand against his shin. Sunny was sleeping under the covers as he always did. When he answered the phone, static didn’t answer first. 
	“Erik, you there?” echoed the voice on the phone, “hello?”
Erik inhaled with his eyes closed, meditating on whether he should hang up. 
	“Yes, yes it’s me”, he paused, “ why are you calling? And at this hour?”.
	“Well I’m calling because you hung up on me last time, and it’s two in the afternoon”. 
The beams of light escaping from his poorly drawn curtains heavily agreed with her. A deep exhale escaped him as he inspected his new injury. 
	“Is this a bad time?”, the woman replied. 
	“No, no it’s fine”, Erik replied, “why are you calling again”.
Static greeted its presence. 
	“Well I’ve made about 12 calls so far today and 3 of them hung up immediately”,
She paused. 	
	“And?” Erik asked. 
	“Well I figured I’d just call someone who actually answered for once”. 
	“And that person was me?” 
Static made a few comments, here and there, but it stayed quiet.
	“So what’s been going on with you?”, she finally replied. 
	“Oh, well nothing really”, he replied, “I just kicked my partner in the leg and it hurt”. 
	“That’s abuse you know”, she said, although she didn’t sound so concerned. 
	“Well, we’re not really together-”
	“Ah, so it’s just assault then, it keeps getting better”, she said giggling. 
Pushing the blanket down past Sunny’s waist, and then covering him again, he replied. 
	“He’s a radiator, I kicked a radiator”, he said. 
A noise came from the other side, followed by Static and then another word, both seemed unsure of what to say next. 
	“Did you just sleep with a radiator?”, she asked slowly. 
	“Yes”, he paused, “yes I did”. 
	“You must be very lonely”.
	“Aren’t you calling strangers with a phonebook?”. 
She paused again. 
	“Good point”, she replied, “tell me about this radiator”. 
	“What do you need to know?”, he asked.
       “Let’s start with the basics, does he have a name?”
He pulled the duvet off of Sunny again, staring at him for a moment. 
       “His name is Sunny,” he replied, “ he’s good, too good to me”. 
       “And?” she replied. 
       “And he’s warm- he makes me feel warm. He goes where I go, and when I need him, he gives me warmth. He doesn’t complain, and he follows along when I drag him around”.
The other side of the line was radio silent, not even static knew how to respond.
       “When I leave him behind to run errands, he stays where I left him. Best of all, I get to choose what temperature I want him to be.”
He ran his fingers over Sunny’s cream painted skin, waiting for the lady’s response, only the silence was persistent. 
	“Are you still there?”, he asked, “hello?”
	“Can I tell you about my ex husband?”.
	“Oh, sure you can”, he replied, unaware that she’d been previously married. 

	The landline lady took a while to respond, the only thing he could hear were faint exhales as she attempted to articulate her story. 
	“My husband, he-”, she paused, “he sucked, and I loved him”. 
She continued. 
	“We were secondary school sweethearts, although he was a bit older. If you saw him then compared to when we were married, you’d think god, he went through quite the change didn’t he. I  mean, when we met he didn’t know the first thing about relationships. I taught him the sidewalk rule, I had to explain to him that a woman always takes the booth and orders first, how flowers are an absolute must. He seemed so curious about anything and everything at the beginning”. 
	“-what an amateur”, Erik giggled. 
	“It wasn’t just relationships you know, I opened his eyes to clothes, what jacket goes with what trousers, and learned the difference between cheap and quality clothing. I got to work on this man, he was like my project”. 
	“He got the hang of things eventually, he started to bring me gifts when we met, and we’d have our little monthly dates. College rolled around and I’d see him less and less but we kept the spark going by keeping in touch when we could, we’d compare our schedules to see when we could cross paths. He made friends in college and I didn’t but it didn’t matter to me”.
	“Over the years he seemed to have this new found confidence around him, he was the most handsome person I had ever seen, no man could possibly compare to the one I had created. We got married two years after college graduation, and his proposal was, admittedly, disappointing. He took me to the last restaurant we visited before leaving for college, except the original restaurant shut down years ago, so nothing about it felt familiar. I couldn’t tell you the conversation we were having, it was like I blinked and he had gotten down on one knee, and proposed”.
	“You said yes, right?” Erik asked. 
       “Of course I said yes, how could I have not, his life was all I knew, maybe even all I had. From then on life was like autopilot, that’s the thing about married life, when you’re engaged, you have a series of events you have to participate in to follow tradition. First you have your wedding, and then the honey moon, you move in together, and then you have kids, so that’s what we were getting into. That’s what he wanted, hell, it’s what I wanted, I still want it, but something felt off about myself, I mean, way off”.
	“A couple years into marriage, he was achieving some mild success, he even wore suits. He was a changed man alright, but he seemed different. This confidence and curiosity had turned into- into arrogance. I couldn’t get a word in without being shut down. My jokes were no longer funny to him, and his friends barely acknowledged me, I was just his wife. And I realised something, Erik”. 
	“What was it?” Erik replied. 
	“I’m the same person”.
	“What do you mean?”.
	“When people saw those photos of me and my husband and remarked about how different he was now, they never said a word about my appearance. Because I never changed, I’m the same person I was when I first met him. I created the man I desired so much but he never reciprocated. And I finally realized what was so off when we got married, it was like I had blinked and I was suddenly expected to do these mandatory tasks of marriage, but I still had things I wanted to do. So-”
She continued. 
	“So I left him”. 
	“Just like that?”
	“Just like that, at the age of thirty-two, I began my life. Mind you, he moved on quickly, he must’ve remarried in a year's time, and sure it hurts to see another woman love him despite his whole being having been created by me. But he was old news. Which is why I want to tell you something, Erik”.
	“Tell me what?”
	“Throw away the fucking radiator, not because I relate to your kind words about Sunny, they were awful actually. But because you need to go, any direction, preferably forward. Just not with the radiator”. 
Erik shot a look at Sunny, he was still sound asleep, he then rubbed his palm across the bandages on his chest. 
	“I-I don’t know, it’s just-” he stuttered.
	“I know you don’t have it in you”. 
	“No. no I can, just give me some time”
	“Okay, I’ll call later for an update”
The other end of the line went silent. Still in bed with the phone to his ear, he remained where he was. Looking down at Sunny, he seemed more different than usual. 
	“Do you really have to go?”
Sunny didn’t respond. 
	“I’m doing my best to follow your words, I really am”.
Sunny didn’t respond. 
	“Okay, we’ll go. I’ll just ask them first anyway”. 

An overwhelming feeling of curiosity arose in Erik when he wheeled Sunny into the appliance store, every section had top of the line washing machines, televisions and even toasters showcased with their high price tags. Walking past, Erik noticed their employee of the month plaque, “The man for all your needs” written on the bottom, it sounded vulgar almost, and the man in the picture looked unenthusiastic about his title. In the photo he stood far too close to the right, leaving extra space on the left side. . Finally they reached the radiators, tucked into a small corner, two racks were lined up against the walls showcasing the latest models. Some had features that Erik didn’t know where possible, like motion detectors with sleek black designs and LED lights that meant business. He looked down at Sunny’s corroding heat sinks and wondered how he might be feeling right now, standing in front of these much better looking radiators. 
	“Can I help you sir?” said an employee. 
His name tag said his name was Jerry and he looked to be in his mid twenties. His uniform looked quite worn. He was the man in the employee of the month photo. 
	“Ah, hello”, he replied, squinting at his name tag, “Jerry.”
He gave a polite smile, his eyes and brows remained in the same position however. 
	“I was wondering how I could go about returning this?”, Erik asked, pointing at Sunny. 
Jerry’s eyes tracked Sunny’s hand all the way to the decrepit radiator that stood between them.
	“That was purchased here?” Jerry asked. 
	“Yes I’m pretty sure”, Erik replied, “It was a long time ago though”. 
Lowering down to the ground, he reached with his right hand and gave Sunny a spin, inspecting it with his eyes before rising up again. 
	“Unfortunately this is well past our refund date”, said Jerry, “But, you can probably scrap it”.
He might as well have called Erik multiple curse words as he stood, taken aback by these words. 
	“Are you kidding, you really said that?”
	“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-”
Jerry seemed like this wasn’t his first time dealing with this as his face remained still, staring intently for Erik’s response so he could double down on corporate policy. 
	“Look, it has sentimental value”, Erik replied, “I can’t just toss him”. 
	“Sentimental how?” Jerry asked. 
	“That’s very personal actually, Jerry,” Erik snapped
	“Sir, I’m trying to help you okay”. 
	“It belonged to an ex partner of mine”. 
Jerry stiffened up, his customer service smile wiped clean off like Erik had just activated a sleeper agent.
	“You’re not returning it sir”, Jerry exclaimed. 
	“Look, just let me get rid-”
	“Keep the radiator”.
Looking down at Sunny, who seemed indifferent to this conversation, Erik replied. 	
	“You’re seriously doing this?” Erik asked, “How do I scrap him then?”
	“-No”
	“What do you mean no?” 
Jerry crossed his arms as if he were blocking the exit from me. 
	“Keep the radiator”, Jerry paused “What if they come back?”.
	“What if they come back?”.
What if they come back, a question that haunted Erik. This time Erik was the sleeper agent as the question echoed deep into his mind. One he refused to think about when possible and yet thought about it every waking hour. one he hoped every second would come true but feared might happen some day.  
	“What do you even mean”, Erik asked, “Why would you-”
	“Sir, please exit the premises”, Jerry demanded. 
	“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Erik asked, “Am I ruining your chance of becoming employee of the month for the second month in a row?”
	“Thirtieth month in a row actually”. 
	“Thirty months?” Erik replied, “in a row?”
Jerry stayed silent, a blank expression like the one in his photo. 
	“Jerry, what are you doing?” Erik replied confusedly, “what could possibly be keeping you here?” 
Jerry’s face twitched, as if Erik had struck a nerve, this was different. Before Jerry could get any angrier, Erik and Sunny rushed out the door. What if he comes back? Is that even a possibility anymore, looking back on that same restaurant with the coca-cola fridge, it seems more unlikely the more he thought about it. 

                                                                                   _________

It was a strange question to ask at the dinner table, especially during his work. Are you true to yourself, Erik? Benson had said it with intent and curiosity, no further questions were needed, he meant it in the grand scheme of things.
	“I’d say I am”, Erik quickly replied. 
Benson interlocked his fingers, and rested atop them, he looked fit for the cover of a fashion magazine as he stared down the barrel of Erik’s eyes. 
 	“And why is that?”
	“Are you implying that I’m not?” Erik asked, “Well I am, I know how things work, and how the final result should be. There’s a process for how things should be, like that damned coca-cola fridge, that doesn’t work. The decor and floor plan would be perfect but now it’s ruined. We can’t pretend it’s normal Benson”. 
Benson exhaled slightly, he looked tired. 
	“Would you like to hear my theory?” Benson asked. 
Leaning back into his chair, Erik placed his hands at the table. 
	“Let’s hear it”.
	“I think there’s two Eriks,” Benson paused, “The first Erik is the arrogant asshole I’m speaking to right now, the one who thinks he knows everything. The one who isn’t open to change, who thinks they know how things work.”
	“The second Erik is the one that the first Erik refuses to acknowledge, the one that’s constantly changing, the one that ran his fingers through my hair this morning, the one that calls me Sunny when no one is around, not because of intimacy, but because he’s afraid that the other Erik will hear you”.
	“You think I want to be with you because I want to know the in’s and out’s of the restaurant business?” Benson continued, “I can start my own restaurant, and it might even have a coca-cola fridge too”.
	“I’m here for that second Erik, and some day, and I really hope this comes true, that both these Erik’s merge and create a somewhat tolerable person”. 
	The sound of cutlery hitting against plates did its very best to fill the silence. 
	“Benson,” Erik paused, “I can call you Sunny in public, I just don’t think it’s very professional-
Benson scoffed. Before getting up from the table. 
	“Oh fuck off”, he muttered as got up.

	Five minutes Erik spent staring at the coca-cola fridge wondering what had happened. When the waitress arrived she looked at the empty seat across from him. 
	“I see your colleague is gone, would you like another few minutes before ordering?”. 
	
                                                                               _________

Wandering the streets with Sunny was a calming feeling, although quite ambiguous. Erik often compared the confidence he got from being around Sunny as the same feeling of walking next to a woman and wondering if strangers think you’re a couple. Of course, Sunny went wherever he went, so he certainly wouldn’t be walking with other women, let alone a man. He was off duty tonight, so he was stuck with more time to kill, but he was still hungry. He couldn’t try a new restaurant tonight, he needed somewhere he could rely on, not to let him down, a vending machine. 

	The old man was still there, in the same rags he wore last time, he seemed to be massaging the stoop on his shoulder. He was muttering to the vending machine again, before noticing Erik and Sunny approaching. 
	“Well would you look at who it is”, the old man replied. 
	“Yes, yes, hello”, Erik uncomfortably nodded, “Do you mind if I?”. 
	“Not gonna ask me how I am?”
	“Oh”, Erik paused, “Do I have to?”
	“I’m well yes, thank you”, he replied, ignoring Erik’s comment, “Jessica and I were thinking about you earlier today”. 
	“Who’s Jessica?”Erik asked. 
The old man leaned his head against the wall of the vending machine. 
	“Oh.” 
Brilliant, it was moments like these where Erik truly wondered if he was any different to the local crack pots in this town, then again, he has met some peculiar people as of lately. 
	“Typically, I’d reassure strangers that I'm nothing to be worried about, but something tells me I don’t need to tell you that”, said the old man, staring at Sunny.
	“I suppose you’re right, but I think my situation might be different to yours”, Erik replied, keeping a firm grip on Sunny. 
	“And worse as well, you look shitter than you did yesterday” he remarked, “I think you could use a drink young man”. 
The idea of holding a conversation with a man that could reflect what he would look like in 30 years didn’t sound too appealing, but a drink could possibly help.
	“You know what, sure”, Erik replied, “I actually know a few good spots down the-”
The old man cleared his throat before knocking gently on the side of the vending machine.
	“Oh”, Erik paused, “of course”. 
	“Don’t worry, I’ll order for you,” the old man said with a smile. 

	Standing in front of the vending machine, the old man inspected the vending machine as if it were his first time seeing it. He pressed her buttons sensually, with each finger remaining on the buttons far longer than they should’ve, and turned to Erik with his hand out. 
	“I need four euros”, he demanded. 
	“You said you were gonna order for me?” Said Erik confusedly.
	“Yeah exactly, I’ll order for you, I didn’t say I was gonna pay”. 
He frowned at Erik as if it was obvious that was what he had meant. Scoffing at what he heard, he reached into his pockets and pulled out a five euro note. 
	“Order up Jessica!”, he said gleefully. 
A series of loud thumps and bumps came from the vending machine as it served the beverages. A moment later a coin dropped into the change slot. The old man reached in slowly and got the change before sliding it into his pocket.
	“Hey, my change” said Erik, “Hand it over-”
	“Sit down- sit down”, he said calmly.

	Taking a seat by the curb, Jessica next to the old man and Sunny beside Erik, they looked out on the streets. Erik wondered if this could be considered a double date, one that neither him nor Sunny wanted to be a part of. Settling down next to Erik, he handed him the drinks. In his hand was a can of coca-cola. 
	“Oh you’ve got to be kidding”, Erik remarked, “You know I’m not drinking this”. 
	“Just take it”, he replied. 
	“No, I told you I hate cola”.
	“Confront your problems”, he said “And drink the damn coke”. 
Handing the can to Erik, he inspected it in his hands, it was chilled and sleek, it must have recently been stocked. 
	“Cheers”, said the old man holding up his can of diet coke. 
Cracking open the can, it let out a gasp as the pressure released. There was a flush on the cheeks of Erik's face, it made him wonder if he was more red than the can. What might happen if I drink it, he wondered to himself. Taking a sip, he came to a realization, it was just normal coke. Recipe unchanged for decades, a taste so familiar that Erik’s feelings hadn’t changed about it. On the other hand, the old man took multiple gulps before letting out a long dramatic gasp. 
	“You enjoyed that”, Erik remarked. 
	“I did indeed”, he paused before looking over at Sunny, “so what’s his name?”
Erik stared off into the distance. 
	“Sunny.”
	“He looks kind”, he paused, “Are you glad?”.
Turning his head to meet the old man, Erik replied. 
	“Glad about what?”
	“Glad you were together”. 
	“We are together”, Erik said, pulling Sunny closer to him. 
	“Son, I have a vending machine by my side, I know what you’ve been through”. 
Clutching onto Sunny, he thought back to that night at the restaurant, Benson’s words from the restaurant echoing in his mind. 
	“You know, not really”, Erik paused, “I had my life completely figured out, and I knew exactly how everything worked, until I met him”. 
The old man laughed. 
	“Sounds like you didn’t understand anything, did you?”, he remarked. 
Erik turned slowly, disgusted by what he heard. 
	“This isn’t funny you know, this is my life we’re talking about”. 
The old man let out one last chuckle before sighing with content. 
	“Son,” he paused, “if it only took one person to throw your life upside down, then perhaps maybe you didn’t understand anything about who you were”. 
	“But if I had never met him, things could have been so much different, for better even”. 
	“You sound like me when I was younger”, he said laughing again. 
The old man looked at Jessica, before staring off into space, he continued. 
	“I used to be quite successful in my early days, I figured I’d put the work in and later on in my life, I’d get to relax and settle down. And so, that’s exactly what I did. I think I was in my mid twenties when I landed my job as an auctioneer, I’d slick my hair back and strut to the podium in my three piece and let the items do the talking. I mean, I could sell almost anything, I was like a machine I tell you. So I got promoted, and then moved on to selling more luxurious items, and then I got promoted again. I was winning”. 
	“I think I was satisfied with my career in my mid-forties, but I had nobody to share the fruits of my labor with. So I figured, I best find myself a wife. This whole mantra of work first, live later, what a mistake I tell you. When it came to finding a lover in my forties, I had no idea where to look, and it seemed like nobody else knew either. So I went to the only place I was familiar with. The auction house”. 
	“Only this time I wasn’t on the podium, I was the item being sold. This whole time I had been selling items, valuable items, they had a reason to be sold, but me? Jesus, I couldn't think of any reason as to why someone would want to spend the rest of their lives with me. So there I stood, in front of crowds of people, all staring at me, and not a single bid was made.”
	“You really tried to auction yourself?” Erik asked. 
	“For a time, yes, but nobody wanted me. I had to come to terms with the fact that high society didn’t want me, so I had to drop down. So I jumped ship to an antique store, and I sat in the window display of the store, with a fixed priced point above me. I saw hundreds of passerbys and windowshoppers look in and glance at all the items except myself. I watched as every trinket and object around me got purchased except for me. This continued, for years”.
	“Eventually, I left the antique store, and I drifted around for a bit. One day, I came across a vending machine, and as a final hail mary, I squeezed myself in there. For a euro-fifty, I was yours. And then I waited, it was so cramped, and I could barely breathe, I dislocated my shoulder being stuck in there, it never recovered”, he said, rubbing his shoulders. 
	“Did someone choose you in the end?” Erik asked. 
The old man smiled to himself. 
	“Yeah, someone did. Around winter time, a lady arrived at the vending machine. She had frizzy hair, and the cold had turned her face raspberry red. She was the opposite of the type of people I was used to at the auction house”,
	“You mean homeless?” Erik asked. 
	“Yes, exactly. She took one good look at me, and smiled, as if to say that’s the one, and her hand shakily pulled out loose change. From inside the vending machine, I watched her insert coins for what felt like an eternity, I was hers.”
	“The time we had together was like a snack from the vending machine, short and sweet. I did everything I could to not let her down, and we enjoyed every minute together. But she passed away soon after we met. I have no idea why she chose me, but all I have left is this vending machine and yet-”.
He paused. 
	“I’m so glad she chose to be with me”, he said, tears forming into his eyes. 
Gently patting his back, Erik watched as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. 
	“I can’t say much Erik, but you need to leave Sunny behind, leave with gratitude”.
	“I know, I’ve tried already”.
	“Try harder then”, he replied.
The old man let out a deep sigh, calming his nerves
	“Thank you for the drink,” said Erik, “But I have to go now”. 
The old man looked up slowly, a smirk forming across the corners of his mouth.
	“You got somewhere to be?”
	“Yeah, I’m expecting a phone call”. 

The landline in his room indicated that there were no messages, she hadn’t called yet. So Erik sat by his bed and waited. He watched the clock turning, occasionally he would glance at Sunny, who stayed tucked away in the corner of his room, plugged into the wall. He was busy keeping the room warm, and they didn’t have much to talk about.

	The landline rang at 9 o’clock in the evening. Erik answered quickly. 
	“Did you find him?” he asked. 
	“Twenty-two calls today, no luck”. 
	“That’s a shame”. 
	“So, Did you do it?” the lady asked. 
	“I- I couldn’t, but I swear it’s not why you think”. 
	“Why then, Erik?” she asked. 
	“I tried- the employee at the store. He wouldn’t let me refund it, he said I could scrap it. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing”. 
	“Then scrap it?” she exclaimed. 
Erik paused, in disbelief to what he was currently hearing. 
	“I just can’t do that, I’m not you. I can’t just get rid of someone with ease”. 
	“I know it’s hard, but you need to start over. Fuck it- I’m scared to start over when I walk past his barber shop”. 
Erik froze in the position that he was in, what did he just hear?
	“Walk past,” Erik paused, “the barber shop?”
	“Yeah, I walk past it sometimes, he told me where he worked the day I met”. 
	“You’ve known this whole time, where to find him?”.
	“I would’ve told you but you hung up, remember?”
The phone was rigid in Erik’s hand. 
	“But why are you calling with the phonebook?”
	“Because I thought-”
	“You’re not thinking at all, you’re just scared. I was scared waiting for this call, for what you might say, but now I just feel like an idiot”. 
	“Says you, why are you comparing your ex to a radiator?”, she said, “you only think of him for warmth, you disgusting fuck”.
	“It’s not like that, there’s more and you know it”. 
	“Erik, wait-”.
Erik slammed the phone down, it gave him a sense of deja-vu when she first rang. 

	He stared at Sunny for a long while, he was at a low level of heat but he needed more. Anything at all. The cream paint of the radiator stood out among the grey walls. Standing before the radiator and dropping his robe and peeling the bandages off. He got down on both of his knees, turned the upper dial to maximum timer and twisted the second dial to the lowest temperature. His breathing grew heavier until he finally leaned forwards and hugged the radiator as tightly as he could. When they both settled in together, a waft of light heat radiated from Sunny. Erik let out a deep sign before closing his eyes, his hands instinctively moved towards the second dial before slowly turning up the heat. Every long exhale created flashes of interlocked fingers and shared blankets. He began to separate his fingers between the grooves and ridges of the heater to recreate that feeling. It wasn’t enough. 

Erik’s fingers rotated the dial to its hottest temperature. While Sunny began to hum louder, he braced himself for the hellfire. He clasped the radiator as hard as he could as the burning sensation spread throughout his torso, he thought of Benson walking out of the restaurant. Erik refused to let go even as the heater became white hot. He presumed the pain would disappear if he just waited it out. When it got as hot as it possibly could, the radiator made a blinking noise and turned off. When he stood up, vertical red streaks stretched across his torso. Erik gazed at his radiator for a few seconds before picking up his dry robe off the floor and walking away.

Chapter Three

Red Hot

Erik had work the next day. He remained in his room, tending to the burns across his body. When the time came, he dressed up; he didn’t want to be treated the same way by the waiters again. Every movement under the sports jacket made him writhe in pain but nonetheless he pushed forward. 
	
	The restaurant was downtown and it looked to be a high-end fine dining restaurant as he saw multiple patrons arrive dressed up, making Erik wonder if his blazer and bandage combination would suffice. Walking to the front desk, the waiter greeted him with a smile.
	“Mr. Donovan, welcome, we’re very pleased to see you”. 
Erik nodded, and Sunny remained quiet. The waiter continued. 
	“The chefs are looking forward to seeing what you think of the new menu, and we have a table reserved. Right this way”.
Before Erik could follow the waiter, the same scenario repeated as the waiter chimed in. 
	“However, we ask that you leave the radiator behind”.
His grip around the cable had loosened for a moment, thoughts of the landline lady walking by the barbershop and making calls anyway, and how the old man refused to leave the vending machine alone. And his grip firmed. 
	“No”, Erik replied.
	“I’m sorry?” 
	“The radiator stays”.
	“Mr. Donovan, I’m afraid I can’t seat you if-”
	“This is ridiculous”.
Erik stormed past the waiter and into the main room, the waiter quickly chasing behind. 
	“Sir, please just a moment”. 
	“No, he’s coming with me. This is my partner, and he will be accompanying me while I try this new menu you were talking about. You will treat him like any other goddam patron. Now where the fuck is my goddam table”.
Erik quickly spun to the waiter, only what he saw shocked him, and it wasn’t the waiter. Beyond the waiter and against the wall lay a view he had been searching for, for months now. The Spencarian font illuminating against the glowing red lights, its shelves stocked with cold beverages, the coca-cola fridge. 
	“The radiator can stay”, said a voice, “It’s okay”.
Erik looked to where the voice was coming from. And there he was, it was Benson. 
	“Hello Erik,” Benson said, “is that the radiator I put in your room?”

	Benson sat down across from Erik, and Sunny stayed under the table between them. 
	“I always wondered if you would come to review my restaurant”, Benson remarked. 
He seemed more confident and well composed than when they last saw each other. 
	“I see you kept the fridge, Sunny” Erik said. 
	“Let’s just stick to Benson, but yes, I couldn’t help myself”
Erik straightened up, this wasn’t the same Benson he knew. 
	“Which Erik am I speaking to?” Benson asked. 
A smile spread across Erik’s face as he rubbed his temple. 
	“I don’t even know anymore, you tell me”.
	“You’ve been through a lot, Erik”, he paused, “I can tell”. 
	“In some ways yes, it’s good to see you”. 
	“You too”.
Benson tapped his hand against the table. 
	“Well, all I can say is welcome, what else is there to really say?”
Benson continued. 
	“You two enjoy the menu, it only recently changed” he paused, “in a good way, a bit like yourself”. 
	Benson and Erik both smiled and nodded before he got up and left. 

He always imagined what his last straw would be, but he never figured it would feel like this, nothing could come out of reuniting with Benson again, so why did he feel so free? What better way to express this freedom than at the appliance store. When he walked in, Sunny in hand, he scanned the perimeter in search of who he was looking for. He found him at the counter. 
	“Hello welcome to- no, no you can’t be back”, Jerry exclaimed. 
	“I want to return this goddam radiator”.
	“no - we talked about this”, he paused before repeating his classic line, “what if they come back?” 
Erik gave a frown and sighed. 
	“They’re not coming back Jerry”, Erik replied, “And I gotta keep moving forward, how much can you give me for the radiator”. 
Jerry stood by the till, for once there was emotion in his face, rather than the blank expression he had in his portrait, he was afraid. 
	“Don’t make me do this please”, Jerry pleaded. 
	“Come on, ten quid.” 
Jerry places his hands atop the till.
	“If I do this, I might not be employee of the month”
	“Jerry, whatever is keeping you here”, Erik paused, “it’s also keeping you in misery, just like how this radiator is keeping me from becoming whole”. 
Jerry gazed at Sunny for a while, inspecting its exterior. It was just a radiator. He hugged Sunny, and then looked up at Erik who was watching this unfold before him. When he got up, he walked to his employee of the month photo, and caressed the left side of the portrait, he turned around Sunny. 
	“I see what you mean”, he sighed, and then went around the till, “5 quid”. 
	“Alright, deal”, Erik replied, “could you also point me to the library?”

                                                                             _________

Two weeks since Erik had left Sunny, his room was colder. But it didn’t seem to bother Erik, he spent most of his time out of the house. Wandering down streets, looking around. The vending machine was gone, and along with it the Old man, the ground beneath where the vending machine stood was clearer than its surroundings, just how long had he been there, Erik wondered. 

	Erik walked by the appliance store on his way to reviewing a local sandwich shop.  There he saw the trash bins outside along with an employee setting down a box with black square shaped boxes inside. The employee stood outside, taking the opportunity for a smoke break. Erik took a closer inspection of the box, the smaller boxes were frames, with pictures of Jerry. Erik looked up at the employee, who seemed indifferent to whatever Erik might be doing.
	“Excuse me, sir”, Erik called.
The owner looked over at Erik who was squatting down by the box. 
	“Yes, how can I help?”, She said unenthusiastically.
	“The employee in these photos, is he okay”. 
	“Oh Jerry”, she replied, giggling, “I fired him”. 
Erik looked back at the photos and shot a look back at the employee.
	“What?” he said, “why?”.
She took a hit of her cigarette and replied. 
	“The dumbass returned a radiator that looked like it was from the nineties”. 
	“Oh.”
	“Are you a friend of his?”
	“We bonded here and there”, 
She took another hit and took a look at how much was left. 
	“Okay well, between you and me. I was just looking for a reason to fire him. The poor guy needed to go, move on even.”
She put out the rest of her cigarette before walking back inside. 

	Erik took a look at the photos, the first few showcased Jerry and a girl of similar age both winning the prize standing a small distance from one another, the girl took up the left side of the photos. As he shuffled through the photos, they continued winning the prize together and the distance between them grew shorter until they were practically in each other's arms. This continued until photo number fourteen in which the girl was gone. From then on, Erik bore witness to a monthly collage of a man going through multiple stages of grief, continuing to win but with nobody to share success with until the most recent photo that Erik first saw, in which he looked blank and cold. 

When Erik got home from work he rushed quickly to his desk. The room was cold but he didn’t mind, he put on a heavy sweater and took a seat. Atop his desk was a phonebook from twenty-eighteen. He used his receipt from the library as a book mark to figure out what page he had left off on. Aside from the phone book, the only other item on his desk was a landline. He checked what the next number was, and dialed. It rang for a few moments and was met with a voicemail. 
	“Hey this is Erik, I’m looking for a lady who was in love with a barber, if it’s you then could you please call me back or maybe even leave a message, thanks.”
Putting the phone down, Erik moved on to the next number. He dialed it and put the phone to his ear. 
	“Hello? This is Erik?”
A muffled noise came from the other end. 
	“I’m looking for a Lady in love with a barber?”.
The noise repeated.
	“That’s not you? Okay well I'm sorry for bothering, please take care.”
He hung up the phone, and moved on to the next number.