Page 42 of Rhymes with Metaphor

R eg blinked awake to full daylight. Joel lay beside him on his back under the covers, head to one side, looking utterly innocent and helpless. As though sensing Reg’s gaze, Joel opened his eyes, blinked, and looked at Reg.

“Good morning, cariad. How do you feel?”

“Blurry.” Joel pulled himself up on his elbows. “Last night, did I dance with a red queen?”

“Raelynne? Yes, you did.”

“Did I smoke pot?”

“Yes,” said Reg.

Joel pressed his hand over his eyes and made a soft sound of embarrassment. He looked at Reg. “Did I come in a restaurant? In front of Raelynne?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Do you regret it?”

Joel stared at the duvet. “No, but...do you think she knew?”

“No,” said Reg. “You were impressively restrained.”

“Good.”

“What do you want to do today?” said Reg.

“I have to work,” said Joel.

“Isn’t it late in the day for you?”

“I scheduled myself for the afternoon,” said Joel, “because we had those parties to go to last night. What time is it?”

“Noon,” said Reg.

“I’ve got an hour.”

“Go and get dressed, and I’ll make the coffee.”

They went downstairs together, and Reg started the coffee.

Later, Joel came into the kitchen, showered and dressed, holding his phone. “Juliet just emailed me. She wants me to spend the holidays with her and mom.”

“You observe Christmas, then?”

“We’re not religious,” said Joel. “But we spend the holidays together. Since dad died, we go to a hotel wherever mom’s working.”

“Ah.” Reg poured the coffee.

Joel texted something on his phone. “I’m telling her I want to spend the holiday with you.”

“Don’t freeze her out on my account, cariad. Blood is thicker than water.”

“Viscosity isn’t the issue here, Reg.”

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a left nipple.”

“You keep telling me,” said Joel.

“You keep being one.”

“Do you already have plans?” said Joel.

“No, cariad. I normally spend Christmas with Martin. That won’t happen this year, obviously.”

“Because of me.” Joel said. “Don’t you want me here for the holidays, Reg?”

“It would be selfish of me to keep you. Think of Juliet. She’s been in your life longer than I have, and she’ll be in your life long after I’m gone.”

“Gone where?” said Joel.

“When you go to Juilliard,” said Reg.

Joel’s face fell, and Reg winced internally.

“I can drop you at the studio if you’re not up to driving yourself,” said Reg.

“I’ll walk, thanks. I need to clear my head.”

“See you at dinner?” said Reg.

“Sure.”

Joel smiled wanly when he kissed Reg goodbye. Unsettled, Reg had a shower and got dressed. He didn’t have anything planned for the day, and the loft felt claustrophobic, so he went for a walk.

It was a cold, gloomy, overcast afternoon, but the Christmas lights were on in the shop windows.

He went to his local bookshop, Chez Livres, in the narrow cobbled laneway off the plaza.

He used to go here with Martin to drink coffee and disparage Madelaine Angela Hackberry.

Madelaine had been in a writers’ workshop with Martin for a semester, and he’d fancied her, up until the moment she’d eviscerated one of his satirical pieces, at length, in front of the entire workshop.

Something she’d continued to do to every piece he subsequently submitted.

Now he despised her, and, in a gesture of solidarity, so did Reg.

Featured in the window of Chez Livres was the latest release from said author.

Reg went in and was greeted with warm air and the smell of apple strudel and reasonably good coffee.

He was on the point of buying the book, as it would be a perfect Christmas gift he and Martin could dismember over a bottle of Cognac, when he remembered he and Martin were no longer speaking.

Almost four months of silence, and the realization still jarred him.

He bought the book anyway. Hope springs eternal or infernal or whatever it did.

He refused to believe Martin was permanently out of his life.

He looked wistfully at the comfy chairs by the window where he and Martin would sit on many an afternoon talking, laughing, and sometimes writing, separately but together. He left the shop.

It was snowing. Fat, clumped flakes dropped out of the grey sky, like empty care packages.

He didn’t want to spend the afternoon in the loft alone, so he got his car out and went for a drive.

The snow was falling faster than the ploughs could clear it, which forced him to drive painfully slowly.

Whether it was impulse or habit, he found himself at Martin’s house.

Martin’s car wasn’t in the drive, and the lights were off, but Reg parked, went to the front door, and knocked.

No one answered. He had a key, but he felt that letting himself in would be impolitic.

He went back to the car and got the gift-wrapped book.

The cashier had put it in a gift bag with one of their cards, so Reg rifled in the glove compartment until he found a pencil, and he wrote on the back of the card, Saw this.

Thought of you. Merry Christmas. R. He put it in the mailbox beside the door.

While he was driving back to the loft, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled over, fishtailing the car, and flailed the phone out, thinking it was Martin.

It wasn’t. It was Joel, sounding tentative and uncertain.

“Do you want to have dinner with me, Reg?”

“All right,” said Reg. “I’m out at the moment. Where are you?”

“At the Old Mill. Can you meet me there?”

It wasn’t too far from where Reg currently was. “Yes. I’ll see you soon.”

Reg parked the car, feeling circumspect. Joel was waiting for him outside the entrance to the Old Mill, looking nervous.

“Hello,” said Joel. “Did you have a nice day?” He sounded so shy and formal, it threw Reg.

“It was fine, thanks,” said Reg, remembering his little errand to Martin’s house and feeling guilty.

Joel took Reg’s hand as they went in. Warm air greeted them, along with the smell of food.

The place was dimly lit, but a Christmas tree stood in the corner, garlanded in silver and lit with bright gold bulbs.

As it was early, they didn’t have to wait long for a table and were shown to a quiet one in the corner by a window.

Joel removed Reg’s coat for him and hung it over his chair.

“I’m paying,” said Joel.

Reg sat. “You don’t need to, cariad.”

“You’ve taken me out a lot,” said Joel. “I want to treat you for once.”

They ordered, and Joel chose the wine.

When the server left the table, Reg said, “I’m impressed. I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Maybe later,” said Joel and gave an odd little giggle, seeming years younger than he was.

Reg hadn’t eaten anything, apart from toast at breakfast, so he was ravenous. But dinner was awkward. Joel was so earnest and conciliatory, eagerly leaning across the table, asking Reg if he wanted anything every couple of minutes.

“What is it, cariad?” said Reg. “What’s on your mind?”

“Will you come with me if I spend the holiday with Juliet and my mom?”

“Do Juliet and your mother want me there? And will Martin be there?”

“What if he is?” said Joel.

“We’re not on speaking terms, so it might make things awkward.”

“Then he needs to suck it up. We’ve been together almost as long as he’s been with Juliet.”

“Well, what if he won’t ‘suck it up,’ as you say? Do you want him to spoil the holiday for everyone?”

“It isn’t fair to you—to us.”

“Sometimes, life isn’t fair,” said Reg. “You’ll learn that as you get older.”

They finished their meal in silence. When the bill came, Joel paid it.

“Thank you for dinner, cariad.”

Joel took Reg’s hand again as they walked to the car park, reminding him uncomfortably of their encounter with Martin all those months ago. When they reached the car, Joel pulled Reg into a romantic kiss.

“Let me take you home, my little fox,” said Reg.

In the car, Joel was vibrating with excitement. He put his hand over Reg’s on the gearshift. In the elevator on the way to the loft, Joel unbuttoned his coat. He was wearing an expensive black T-shirt with the word Touch in silver cursive written across his hip suggestively.

“I haven’t seen that shirt before,” said Reg.

“I bought it after work,” said Joel, attempting to sound casual.

He leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator, put his arms over his head and stretched elaborately.

He regarded Reg with a calculating look.

Reg was fully aware Joel was trying to seduce him, and he was enjoying it immensely.

Reg held Joel’s flanks and kissed him deeply, and Joel became so worked up, Reg thought he might come in the elevator, but he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp and held there, eyes shut, panting, until the elevator pinged and the doors opened.

At the door to the loft, Joel leaned against the wall while Reg, whose hand was shaking, punched in the key code.

“No poetry this time?” said Joel quietly. “Or are you waiting till you can write it all over me in come?”

Reg pulled Joel inside and pinned him against the door, pressed his lips to the word Touch on Joel’s hip, inhaling the chemical smell of new fabric.

“Fuck,” Joel breathed.

Reg touched Joel, who was palpably excited, but Joel moved Reg’s hand away.

Reg looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Joel pulled a box of condoms from his coat pocket and dropped it onto the table by the door.

“You’ve developed a penchant for safe sex?” said Reg.

Joel put his hand in his pocket again and produced a tube of lube, which he placed on the table beside the condoms. He looked at Reg. “Well?”

“Well,” said Reg.

They’d been moving toward this moment since that day at Dunraven when Joel had first made his request.

“Are you going to fuck me?” said Joel. “I’m sure it won’t take long, for either of us.”

“Jesus, Joel.”

“Does that mean ‘no’?”

“Yes, it means ‘no.’” Reg stood.

“Why not?” said Joel. “You got me drunk. You got me stoned . You gave me a blow job at a train station. You gave me a hand job in a fucking restaurant. Why not this? Don’t you want me, Reg?”

Reg’s heart broke. “How can you doubt that, cariad?”

“Because you won’t do this for me.”

“I’ll hurt you, Joel.”

“Not if we’re careful.”

“There are other ways of hurting someone than physical ones. I don’t want to hurt you, Joel.”

“You already have,” said Joel. “You already are . You keep giving and giving and giving and you never ask for anything back. Even when you let me do things for you, you make it feel like you’re doing me a favour.

I ask you to fuck me, but you won’t. And I know it’s not because you don’t do it, because you fucked Flip.

So, what’s the reason, Reg? Don’t tell me you’re not ready unless you tell me why. ”

“There’s nothing to tell, Joel.”

“Are we exclusive, Reg?”

“I haven’t fucked anyone else since we’ve been together, if that’s what you mean, and I’m not planning to.”

“Ever?”

“No, Joel.”

“Is that a promise?” said Joel. “Because I can make you the same one. I’ll do it now.”

“What?” said Reg, who felt he’d completely lost control of the situation. “You can’t mean...”

“Will you marry me?” said Joel.

“You’re too young to get married,” said Reg.

“I’m not too young to get engaged.”

“You’ve only ever been with one person in your life. You’re going to New York soon, and you’ll meet other people and develop feelings for them, the way you did with Raelynne. And Silas.”

“There’s a difference between being curious about something and actually doing it. I don’t want to have sex with Raelynne or Silas or anybody but you, and I don’t give a fuck if they want to have sex with me.”

“There’ll be other people in New York, and I don’t want you to feel guilty if you develop feelings for other people.”

“You’ve always taken me at my word that I know what I want. You’re willing to pay for me to go to Juilliard, for fuck’s sake. So, why won’t you believe that I want this? I know that being with you is what’s best for me.”

“I don’t want you to sacrifice your future happiness for my sake.”

Joel’s expression hardened. “I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Reg felt like the floor had dropped from under him, and he didn’t know where he would land. “Joel...”

Joel went upstairs and brought his things down to his bedroom. “Goodnight, Reg.” He slid the door to the study shut behind him.