Page 19 of Rhymes with Metaphor

R eg woke drowsily at his desk at dawn with tight and aching muscles. He crawled into bed and didn’t wake again until noon. Joel’s bedroom door was shut, and in the kitchen, he found a clean bowl and spoon on the draining board and a note on the table written in perfect cursive:

I’ve gone out. I’ll be back later.

—Joel

Reg took coffee and toast upstairs to his room and worked over the draft of the poem he’d written the night before, to help him bear the waiting.

Sometimes, when the words flowed, the writing came out clean and seamless, but last night’s writing was choppy—perfect, fragmented crystalline pieces—and the revision involved fitting the pieces together in a reasonable order and smoothing the edges so the seams didn’t show.

The work was painstaking, and he lost track of time.

When he next looked up, his bedside clock read two o’clock, and he decided he had done as much wordsmithing as he could stand for one day.

He went downstairs. Joel’s bedroom door was still shut, and the kitchen was still empty.

He sat in the living room, fretting and staring at nothing before realizing what he was doing.

He wandered around the swimming pool, across the lawn to the empty tennis court where everything had changed, around the entire perimeter of the grounds, smoking one cigarette after another.

He didn’t find Joel, and really, he should not have been looking, as clearly, Joel wanted to be alone. Reg felt guilty, and he knew he deserved it when he thought about what he had done and how young and inexperienced Joel was.

He went to the library inside the house, took down one book after another, flipped through their pages, and put them back. He was looking for something, but he didn’t know what.

At five o’clock, Bethan called Reg to tell him supper was ready. Reg thanked her profusely and sent her home, telling her he would clean up afterwards. After the front door closed behind her, Reg looked at the food. He couldn’t eat. He sat at the kitchen table, gazing through the window.

The fact that had been distressing him all day was that he had only been rejected once in his life, and he had never really recovered. He wasn’t used to being at the mercy of someone else’s feelings, and the fact was, his heart was entirely in Joel’s hands.

He heard the front door open and thought it was Bethan, but a few moments later, Joel stood in the kitchen doorway, looking tired. He was wearing dove-grey scrubs today.

“Have you eaten dinner?” said Reg.

“I didn’t have any money to buy anything.”

“Bethan’s made some fresh pasta. Would you like some?”

“Yes,” said Joel. “What time is it?”

“After five. Left your watch behind?”

“I forgot to put it back on.” Joel looked at his wrist. “My arm feels lighter.”

“Do you like that?”

“I’m not used to it.”

Reg plated the food and opened a bottle of wine. He poured Joel a glass. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish it.”

Dinner was awkward at first. Reg wasn’t sure whether to wait for Joel to raise the subject or to broach it himself.

The situation had been so different with Flip.

They’d both been equally inexperienced. They’d also been equally keen on each other, so Reg had known where he stood from the outset. This wasn’t the case with Joel.

“What did you do today?” said Reg.

“I went to the park and threw a boomerang I found in my bedroom.”

“Oh, that.”

“It doesn’t work,” said Joel.

“It wouldn’t. It’s not the genuine article. I made it at school. Nearly decapitated Martin with it by accident when we were mucking about. You didn’t hit anyone, did you?”

“No,” said Joel. “It got stuck in a tree. I had to climb it to get it down.”

“What else did you do?”

“I tried to give blood.”

“Why on Earth?” said Reg.

“I wanted to feel useful. They disqualified me because I had mono last month.”

“What did you do then?” said Reg.

“Walked around. Stood on the bridge for a while. Were you worried about me?”

“I don’t want to sound like your mother, but yes.”

“You don’t sound anything like my mother.”

“Your sister, then.”

“She treats me like a kid.”

“So did I,” said Reg.

“You don’t now.” Joel lifted his wine glass and sipped.

“Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure,” said Joel.

“There’s milk, if you prefer.”

“I’ll keep drinking this and see if I start liking it.”

“Some good things take time to get used to.”

“I noticed,” said Joel.

They finished their meal with fresh strawberries and cream, and on Reg’s suggestion, they went to the living room to watch a movie. Reg sat at one end of the settee, Joel at the other, an empty seat cushion between them.

They watched Harold and Maude , Reg feeling very conscious of Joel’s proximity.

Periodically, Reg commented on the movie, giving himself an excuse to look at Joel.

He tried not to let his gaze linger so Joel wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes, he stole sidelong glances at Joel only to find Joel stealing the same glances back at him.

When the movie ended, Joel said he was going to bed.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight.”

Reg watched him go. Then he switched off the television and went to his own bedroom, passing Joel’s on the way. A dim light shone under the door.

Reg’s bedroom was muggy from the day’s heat, so he opened the windows to let the breeze in. The moon was casting a silver light in the room. Reg got into bed and lay on his back. He was exhausted after last night’s broken sleep, but in spite of this, he felt restless and ill-at-ease.

The silence was broken by the sticky sound of bare feet padding up the floating stairs to Reg’s bedroom, followed by footsteps approaching his door, then a light tapping so discreet it didn’t qualify as a knock.

“Yes?” said Reg.

“Can I come in? It’s Joel.”

Reg laughed because who else would it be? “Yes, you can come in.”

He sat up in bed, but left the light off, thinking Joel would feel less self-conscious that way. As it was, the moonlight was enough to see by.

Joel came in. He was still wearing his scrubs.

Most of his body was in shadow, and Reg had to interpret his mood through his posture.

He looked keyed up. He glanced around the room with frank curiosity at Reg’s possessions, his tennis trophies, school photos, drinking it all in. Either that or he was stalling.

Joel said, “Do you want me to join you?”

“Very much.”

“Do I have to take my clothes off?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” said Reg.

When Joel hesitated, Reg lifted the bedcovers by way of invitation, and Joel climbed in. He lay on his side, facing Reg, and settled himself under the covers.

“What do we do now?” said Joel.

“Whatever you like.”

Joel put out his hand until it encountered Reg’s chest. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me, Joel. And yes, it’s all right.”

Joel held his hand over Reg’s heart, stroking Reg’s chest with his thumb, looking into Reg’s eyes with such intensity of feeling that it was difficult to take.

Joel patted Reg’s chest. “You’re real.”

“I should hope so.”

Joel hitched himself over in the bed until he was lying against Reg.

He put his arm around Reg and wormed his other arm underneath him and then hugged him.

Reg enclosed Joel in his arms, and they held each other while Joel became palpably excited.

Reg wondered how long he could hold Joel before one of them initiated something sexual.

Reg could feel Joel’s breath on his cheek, Joel’s erection pressing into his belly with a hint of dampness.

Joel’s breathing changed. He shifted on the bed, pressing himself closer to Reg, and exhaled, making a sound so soft Reg barely heard it. Joel began moving against Reg, subtly.

“Does that feel good?” said Reg, caressing Joel’s back, letting his hand roam lower.

Joel nodded tightly.

“If I asked you to, could you stop?” said Reg.

Joel stopped. “Am I doing something wrong? You don’t want me to—”

“No, you’re fine. I just want to see how long you can keep still.”

Joel was breathing through his mouth now, his head pressed into Reg’s shoulder. He made a drawn-out sound. Below, Reg felt the tip of Joel’s cock trapped in his briefs, pressed against him getting damper.

“Hold still,” said Reg.

“I can’t,” said Joel.

“Yes, you can. Do you want to come?”

“I’ll make a mess,” said Joel.

“I don’t mind. Talk to me.”

“About what?” said Joel.

“Anything. Let me hear your voice.”

Joel took a reaching breath. “Hydrogen.”

“What?” said Reg.

“Helium.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Lithium.” Joel made another sound, and resumed speaking, getting progressively faster, “Beryllium. Boron. Carbon. Nitrogen—”

“What are you on about?”

“Oxygen,” Joel blurted out. “Reg, I’m...” Joel started trembling.

“Go on.”

“Fluorine,” said Joel. He stopped to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Neon...fuck...sodium...magnesium...aluminum...siliconphosphorus—”

Words spilled out of him in bursts, coming quick and quicker, breathlessly, until at last, he gasped, “Calcium.” And he pressed his head into the hollow of Reg’s shoulder.

A moment later, it became very wet between them. Reg clasped him tight.

“It’s all right,” Reg murmured, with the comfort of knowing that this time, there was no doubt. Joel throbbed between them, his breathing slowing and evening out.

Joel shifted uncomfortably in Reg’s arms, “I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” said Reg.

“But—”

“I don’t mind. Just relax.” Reg stroked Joel’s soft hair and slowly felt the tension ease from Joel’s body. Joel relaxed into him, and in a few minutes, he’d fallen asleep in Reg’s arms. And sending Joel off to sleep like that felt even more satisfying than making him come.

“What have I done to deserve you?” Reg murmured.

The bedroom smelled of the neighbours’ barbeque, honeysuckle, and sex. Awakened by the sensation of Joel sleeping in his arms, he felt words coming to him.

Shit.