Page 20 of Rhymes with Metaphor

He couldn’t let Joel go without disturbing his peaceful sleep.

On his bedside table was a handful of sketching implements, including a stick of charcoal he could just reach if he moved carefully.

He recited the words in whispers so he wouldn’t lose them, but new ones tumbled over the old.

By the time he caught hold of the charcoal, they’d knotted together, and he couldn’t untangle them.

His bedspread and the pillow cases were blood red, the headboard dark wood.

The bedroom wall was varnished wood. The only surface pale enough to contrast with charcoal were Joel’s dove-grey scrubs.

Gently, Reg wrote the words across Joel’s back, starting with the easiest place to reach, along the back of Joel’s shoulder, then working down, top to bottom, making the words as small as he could because he could feel how much more was to come.

Joel stirred once, and Reg froze, because he didn’t want to break the spell and stop the words. But Joel only murmured something and settled against Reg’s body, so Reg continued. By the time he reached the bottom hem, the words were fuzzy, frayed strands of ideas.

Reg eased back down in the bed. He would have to hope Joel didn’t roll over or move too much and smudge everything, but he was willing to risk it so he didn’t disturb Joel’s sleep.

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I t was late morning when Reg woke, judging by the light coming through the window.

Joel was gone, and he felt a sudden dread, recalling mornings when Flip would have his bags packed before Reg woke.

As Reg got out of bed, something clattered to the hardwood floor and rolled against his foot.

He picked up the stick of charcoal and remembered why it was there.

He ran downstairs and found Joel outside the bathroom, holding a bundle of clothes.

“Where’s the washing machine?” said Joel.

“I’m sorry. That was me—I wrote all over your top last night. It was all I had to hand, and I didn’t want to wake you to look for a pen and paper.”

Joel looked confused, then checked his scrub top.

“Give it to me,” said Reg. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Joel passed it to him. In the light of day, most of what he’d written was illegible. He could only make out the odd word. He sighed.

Joel looked embarrassed. “I still need to wash the rest of my clothes.”

“Let Bethan wash them.”

“No,” said Joel, scandalized.

“I’ll wash them for you.”

“I can do it myself,” said Joel.

“I know, but let me.”

Joel surrendered the rest of his clothes.

Later, as they were eating breakfast, Reg said, “What was that nonsense you were talking last night? About calcium.”

Joel finished chewing his cereal and swallowed. “I was listing the elements in the periodic table.”

“Ah. And calcium is...?”

“The twentieth element.”

“You held on for twenty elements. Well done.”

“I’m not used to trying to stop it from happening,” said Joel. “I’m not used to it happening at all.”

“You’ll find you last longer with practice, and as you get older. What’s the fiftieth element? Is there a fiftieth element?”

“Tin.”

“Next time, aim for tin.”

As Joel washed his cereal bowl, spoon, and coffee mug, Reg watched him, glad there was no need to take covert glances or feel guilty for his admiration.

He got up and stood close behind Joel, crowding him without touching him.

Joel shut off the tap and set his bowl in the draining board.

He stayed where he was, looking out of the window.

Everything was held in suspension, like the tiny soap bubbles floating in the air.

“I’m still not sure I’m gay,” said Joel.

“You don’t have to label yourself. Not on my account.” Though his heart dropped, Reg kept his tone circumspect.

“Good.” Joel sounded relieved.

“All you need to decide is what you want to do and who you want to do it with. For example...would you like to continue what we’ve started and see where it goes?”

“Yes,” said Joel. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” said Reg, relieved.

Joel stepped back, closing the space between them so that his back was pressed against Reg. Reg gently put his arms around Joel. Joel’s soft hair brushed his lips, its scent bittersweet. Through the kitchen window, a rabbit hopped across the lawn.

“All right?” Reg murmured.

“Yes.”

Reg moved his hand down, feeling Joel’s body. Joel gripped the edge of the sink with both hands. Reg moved his hand lower, found him.

Joel stiffened and ever so slightly, arched back against Reg, which Reg interpreted as a sign to proceed.

“If you feel you’re getting close—you know that feeling now?”

Joel nodded.

“Tell me to slow down. Remember your elements. Or if you want, I can stop.”

“Don’t stop,” said Joel.

“Not for the world,” Reg murmured, hand still moving. Joel strained against him.

Afterwards, Reg had to hold him up, he was so wrung out, shaking, breath stuttering.

“Well done, my boy,” Reg said softly and couldn’t believe his luck. They had each other all to themselves and the whole summer ahead of them.

Fifteen minutes later, Reg’s phone rang.

He snatched it up. “Hello!”

“You sound cheerful,” said Martin. “Had a good morning?”

“One could say that.”

“What have you done to New Bug’s body?”

“What?” Reg spluttered coffee over the kitchen table.

“Have you buried him behind the tennis court?”

“No.” Reg laughed nervously.

“Showing marked restraint for you. How is he, then?”

“Joel is splendid. He made it past tin this time.”

“You know, Reg, on your best day, I can only understand you fifty per cent of the time.”

“That’s the tragedy of poets. We’re never fully understood.”

“You’ve stopped calling him New Bug. That’s a good sign. You’re not bored with him, are you? Not planning on sending him home?”

Reg burst out laughing.

“What?” said Martin. “Did he break another garden gnome?”

Reg was afraid he was giving himself away. A distraction was called for. “How’s the thesis coming?”

“In drips and drabs. I’ve written a few pieces I’m happy with.”

“Only a few?” said Reg.

“I was making headway until I met Juliet. Speaking of—she wants to know when you’re coming back.”

“As late as possible,” said Reg. “End of August.”

“Is Joel there? Juliet wants a word.”

“He’s upstairs having a shower.”

“Tell him Juliet says to switch on his phone once in a while so she can reach him directly.”

“Righto,” said Reg. “Bye.”

Joel entered the kitchen. He was wearing the sapphire blue silk shirt Reg had bought him, buttoned to the throat, and he was holding that morning’s clothes in a bundle in his arms.

“Put them in with the rest of the wash,” said Reg, nodding at the machine.

Joel did. Then he hopped up on the washer and looked at Reg. “What do we do now?”

“You’ve never had the chance to enjoy life, have you? Why don’t I help you do that?”

“How?”

“Come with me.” Reg took Joel’s hand, pulled him off the washer, and led him along the corridor to the library on the main floor. “What do you like to read?”

“I don’t read for fun,” said Joel. “When I was at school, I didn’t have time.”

“Now you do.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Try these.” Reg went along the shelves and pulled out a first edition of Robert Aickman’s Cold Hand in Mine, Samuel R. Delany’s Aye, and Gomorrah: And Other Stories , and a volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “If you don’t like them, don’t feel obliged to finish them.”

They spent the afternoon on the terrace, reading. Joel read disconcertingly quickly, probably a side effect of school deadlines. His reactions to the books were mixed.

“What do you think of Aickman?” said Reg.

“It’s like watching a foreign movie with no dubbing or subtitles,” said Joel. “Something’s happening, but I don’t understand what it is.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Weird.”

“Do you want to try another of his?”

“No, thanks.”

They spent the evening in Reg’s bed, reading.

Joel’s reaction to “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones” in the Delany collection was more positive.

“The hero’s totally alone,” said Joel. “He had one friend who was willing to die for him, and he just threw him away.”

“He couldn’t afford to trust anyone, in his line of work.”

There was a long silence. Reg glanced over to see Joel looking at him soberly. “ I ’d do anything for you, Reg. I’d give you a kidney, if you needed one.”

“Steady on. I’ve already got two.”

“I mean it. I’d do anything for you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“Switch off the light on your side?”

Joel did. In the darkness, he said, “I’m serious. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I don’t know how,” said Joel.

“Then let me teach you.”