Page 47 of Rhymes with Metaphor

O ne mild, rainy day at the end of March, nearly a year to the day Reg had first met Joel, Reg came home from a meeting with his agent, soaked and cold.

He stripped off and went into the shower.

When he came out of the bathroom, dried and dressed, he went to make coffee and found Joel sitting on the settee by the window, likewise soaked, hair plastered to his head.

He looked so much like the Joel Reg had found at the fountain in the rain and taken home.

He had been gone three months, but it felt longer, and Joel seemed older and more substantial, somehow.

“I let myself in,” said Joel.

“So I see.” Reg remained where he was, afraid that if he moved, he would wake from whatever dream this was, and Joel would be gone.

Joel fished something out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table. Reg couldn’t see it properly from where he was standing, so he walked over and looked. It was a black toonie.

“It’s the one you gave me in Wales,” said Joel.

“I thought you made a wish with it.”

“I already had my wish,” said Joel, “when you put it in my hand. I realized I loved you. I couldn’t throw it away after that.”

“So, that’s when it happened,” said Reg. “If I hadn’t gone back to get you in the rain that day...”

“I might have died of pneumonia. Why did you?”

“I don’t know,” said Reg. “I found you enormously inconvenient. I suppose I took pity on you.”

“You don’t now, do you?”

“No.” Reg sat on the settee beside Joel, but not close enough to touch him. He felt like he was walking a delicate balance.

Rain flowed down the window behind Joel like milk.

“It’s today,” said Joel.

“What is?”

“Juilliard results.” Joel pulled out his phone.

“Did you get in?”

“I’m afraid to look.”

“How was your audition?”

“Harder than the MCAT.”

“Did you do well?”

“I don’t know,” said Joel.

“How was the coffee?”

“Appalling.”

“That’s something.”

Joel made a sound, half laugh and half sob. Reg had missed that laugh.

“Do you want me to check for you?”

“I should do it myself.”

Joel stared at his phone. Reg watched his thumb moving as he peered at the screen. His hand shook. He looked up at Reg. Reg couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears on his cheeks. Joel seized him in a hug, sobbing. “Tell me it’s going to be all right.”

“It’s going to be all right,” said Reg, squeezing him tight, because suddenly everything was , feeling Joel in his arms after so long when he thought he never would again. “You can try again next year.”

“No,” said Joel, releasing him. “I got in.”

“Ah,” said Reg. “Congratulations, then. But why did you want me to tell you it was going to be all right?”

Joel wiped his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Because of what happened, right after Flip hit me. The way you looked at me, like I was the most important thing in the world to you. And when you touched me and told me everything was going to be all right, everything was. No one’s ever looked at me that way or made me feel like that before. ”

“That’s why you got your tattoo, was it? Someone hurt you, and you came to me to make it better?”

“That was part of it,” said Joel. “And I wanted a memento. Something permanent.”

“Let me give you something now,” said Reg, “that won’t involve getting stabbed with a needle.”

“What?” said Joel, looking puzzled.

Reg unclasped his gold necklace and let the ring slip into his hand. He held it out to Joel. “It’s yours if you want it. Something permanent.”

Joel started crying again, in earnest.

“Welcome home, cariad.”