Page 34 of Rhymes with Metaphor

O ne morning, Reg woke to find the bed empty beside him. He had slept in, as usual; he and Joel had kept their tradition of sleeping in since returning to Canada. Joel wasn’t in the shower, but Reg found a sticky note on the bathroom mirror:

Gone out. Back later.

—J.

Joel had passcodes to the building and Reg’s loft and could come and go as he pleased, but the loft felt unsettlingly empty without him, and Reg was paranoid with worry.

Joel was a creature of habit, and a break in his routine usually signalled something was wrong.

Reg resisted the urge to text him, as that would be a show of mistrust, the way a parent treated a child who wasn’t old enough to be independent.

But he was worried. Joel had been unusually reserved and detached the night before.

Reg had an informal meeting planned that afternoon with the editor of a poetry journal, and he suspected the man might offer him work. However today, Reg cancelled his meeting and stayed home. He drank some Scotch, which was much less enjoyable when Joel wasn’t there to share it with.

It was dark when Joel returned, but Reg had left the blinds open and the lights off.

Joel came in, flicked the lights on, and came into the living room. He looked unusually subdued.

“Hello, Joel,” said Reg.

“Hi.” Joel looked neither shocked nor guilty. He shrugged off his backpack and sat on the settee beside Reg. “I went to Juliet’s to get my stuff.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out some textbooks. “I told her I dropped out.”

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t get it. When I told her I never wanted to be a doctor, she said I’ve always wanted to be one.

But I never told her that. When she looks at me, she sees this person she wants me to be, and it isn’t me.

She thinks I’m just taking a year off to do nothing.

She says I’m running away from my obligations. ”

“What obligations?”

“Since I’m academically gifted, I have a duty to become a doctor. She says it’s selfish not to. But how can I be a good doctor if I don’t want to be one? And I don’t want to take a spot in medical school from someone who really does. That would be selfish.”

“And what did Juliet say?”

“She said she didn’t want to watch me mess up my life. I told her I’m not her kid, and I’m not her patient. I’m her brother, and I’m eighteen, and it’s my life. Then she asked me what I was going to do—that I couldn’t just expect you to house me indefinitely. That’s when I told her about us.”

“What happened?”

“She said all kinds of shit—psychoanalyzing me. She does that whenever she’s losing an argument. She said the only reason I’m attracted to you is because I’m looking for a father figure because my dad died.” Joel lapsed into silence and looked at the floor.

Reg put his arm around him gently. “Are you having second thoughts about us?”

“No. That’s the one thing I do know I want.” Joel looked at him. “Why—are you?”

Reg laughed. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be getting drunk every day, smoking my lungs out, and on my way to getting kicked out of my MFA for not producing any poetry, cariad.”

Joel seized Reg in a hug.

Reg didn’t often acknowledge how lucky he was, but this occasion was an exception.

“Have you eaten yet?” said Reg.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“I’m ordering sushi. Join me?”

“You waited for me,” said Joel. “Like you did that first time, in England.”

“I wasn’t hungry until you were here.”

Joel didn’t speak much as they ate. Periodically, his gaze would steal to Reg, and he would smile, then he would look back at his food and continue eating.

Afterwards, as they were sitting on the settee together, Joel said, “What if I’m wrong, Reg?”

“So what if you are? When I was your age, I thought I was going to play pro tennis. I was wrong. Being wrong didn’t hurt me. Now, I’m a poet, doing what I was meant to do.”

“It feels like I’m losing everything.”

“Look.” Reg put his arm around him. “You’ve got a room of your own, space to be yourself, and all the time you need to discover what you want to do. You do have this tendency to anticipate the worst happening.”

“That’s because it did,” said Joel. “He died.”

“Ah.”

“I miss him.”

“Yes,” said Reg, holding him.

“But you’re here.”

“Yes,” said Reg. “I won’t leave you.”

Joel’s hand ventured to Reg’s lap, and he touched him.

“Is that all right?” said Joel.

“Yes, it’s all right,” said Reg, and he let Joel continue.

“Am I...am I doing it properly?” said Joel.

“Yes, Joel.” Reg stroked the back of Joel’s neck.

Joel went about the task with studious concentration. And when Reg came, Joel’s face lit up with joy, as though he had come himself. He cleaned Reg up carefully and efficiently, as though Reg were his patient, then he looked at Reg. He swallowed loudly. “Thanks.”

“Happy now?” Reg whispered.

Joel nodded, too overcome to speak. And the smile on his face when he fell asleep that night returned the next morning when he woke.

“What should we do now?” said Reg.

“I can think of a few things,” said Joel.

They kept themselves occupied for the rest of the morning.

Juliet made one more attempt to bring Joel back under her control, recruiting her mother to call Joel via a conference call from Nunavut, where she was working. Reg offered to stay, but Joel said, “If you’re here, they’ll accuse you of trying to influence me. They need to know this is my choice.”

Reg left reluctantly. He drove aimlessly until a poem came to him unbidden, and of course, he had no paper to write it on and only a golf pencil in the glove compartment, and he had to try and write it all over the dashboard.

His phone buzzed with a text notification. It was from Juliet:

You have no idea what you’re doing to him.

So Reg knew that Joel had remained steadfast. He drove home, and Joel greeted him at the door with a hug, though he seemed subdued.

“All right?” said Reg.

“Yes.”

“What did they say?”

“They threatened to withdraw their financial support if I stay with you. What a joke. I’ve been on a full scholarship since I was seventeen.”

“You have my support now,” said Reg.

“Juliet said this wasn’t what dad would have wanted. But it’s what I want. They threatened to cut contact with me until I come to my senses.”

“And what did you say?” said Reg.

“That I’m sorry they feel that way, and they know where to find me if they change their minds. Because I won’t.”