Page 56 of Something Like Hail
“Dude!”
“There’s no turning backnow! I know this will sound crazy, but try to remember yourpriorities when you were a kid. All I could think about was themodel train set in the basement. Donny was more interested inshowing off his toys instead, which seemed to go on forever. Hisparents ordered us pizza, we ate it in his room, and I kept begginghim to go downstairs. Meanwhile, my butt was getting itchier by thesecond, and I bet I didn’t smell so good. I knew I had to dosomething, so I suggested we take a bath.”
“This is beyond weird,”Noah said. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not! Donny had allthese plastic boats. Pirates and stuff, so that was my angle. Iacted like I was really eager to play with them in water. His momran a bath for us and loaned me a pair of his swim trunks. Weweren’t naked together. It sounded like a fun idea, when really, Ijust wanted to get my butt clean. Part of me knew I should call myparents and go home, but those models… I had to see them again! Soanyway, we get changed on opposite sides of the room, have ourfun-filled bath time, and when it’s all over, I was the first backto his room. Donny had to pee, so I went there on my own andnoticed that he wore the same kind of underwear that I did. I’mguessing there’s not a lot of variety for kids. Anyway, I grabbedhis undies, put them on, and then hurried to grab my crusty pairand put them with his pile of clothes on the floor. When Donny cameback in the room and noticed, he flipped. He screamed and shouted,but I played innocent, even when his mom came to see what the fusswas about. Turns out that Donny used to have accidents himself, soshe instantly thought he had—I don’t know—a relapse or something.He got in trouble, I was sent home, and the absolute worst part isthat I never got to see those models again because he never invitedme back.”
Noah let the story sink in. “So basically,your favorite hobby is a tribute to the time you crapped your pantsand stole some poor kid’s underwear.”
Harold thought about it. Then he nodded. “Iguess so, which makes me pretty fucked up, right? Or in otherwords…”
“You’re not perfect,” Noahsaid. “Back then at least. You are now though.”
Harold scowled while slowly shaking hishead. Then his expression changed, and he seemed to beconcentrating. Or pushing.
“You wouldn’t!” Noahcried.
“You leave me no choice,”Harold said. “That butter burger is about to make an earlydeparture.” Then he grinned. “You know what? I’d rather you thinkI’m perfect than go through that again.”
“It’s not like it’s a badthing,” Noah said. “Most people would take being perfect as acompliment.”
“I know. I guess I gettired of the pressure sometimes. These dates we go on, we’re kindof forced to never reveal our bad sides. We have to be flawless forour clients, because even though they would probably disagree, theyaren’t looking for a real connection.”
“You don’t thinkso?”
“Most people don’t want tohear my poop story. It’s too real. Kind of like what I told youabout your parents kicking you out of the house, but now I feellike a dick, because that’s when it started, isn’t it? That’s whenyou lost your home.”
Noah nodded. He didn’t hold back like he hadwith Marcello. He didn’t wait until he was backed into a cornerbefore the truth came out. Not this time. Through the first roundof beers and during another, Noah told Harold everything. Maybe notthe minute details, but the truth about how he had slowly foundhimself on the streets with a guy who seemed decent at first, buthad too many demons to be reliable.
Harold listened intently, not interruptingor trying to give him pep talks. He didn’t even express hissympathy. Instead he reached across the table, took Noah’s hand,and said, “I get it now.”
“Get what?” Noah asked,loving the feel of the fingers clutching his.
“Why you’re so strong.You’ve been through all that stuff. No wonder those clients weren’ta challenge for you. Forget them! You faced off against Marcelloand came out on top!”
“I don’t know about that,”Noah said, thinking of Ryan again. He had told Harold about thedeal, but not how it made him feel. He didn’t even like to admitthat to himself. “We’ll see what sort of clients Marcello sends menext. Then we’ll decide how well I’ve done.”
“You’ll be fine,” Haroldsaid, sounding confident. “You’ve already gotten past all the basichurdles. You do okay with older guys, which is important, and youcan obviously handle a weird fetish or two.”
“Yeah,” Noah said, “butthere are other things I’m not sure I can handle. Certainactivities.”
“Fisting?” Harold’s voicewas a little too loud. “Like I said, we’ve got people who cater tothose clients.”
“It’s not just that,” Noahsaid. “It’s not really a fetish but more like basic things I’venever done, and I—”
“Are you about finishedhere?” The bartender had marched over and was glaring at theirtouching hands with disdain. “We have a large crowd coming in soonand we’ll need the table.”
Noah glanced around. Plenty of tables andstools at the bar remained empty. He doubted they were ever full,but the glares from other patrons made him feel unwelcome.
“We were about to leave,”Harold said. “We want to go, but we’re stuck to the table.” Hefeigned difficulty in lifting the hand that held Noah’s, like itwas glued to the table’s surface and he had only been trying to prythem both free. “So sticky!” he gasped. “Ever heard of soap andwater?”
Noah caught on and fought against him,keeping his hand pressed against the table. The bartender didn’tfind this amusing. After hissing something under his breath, hestomped away.
Harold shot Noah a wink, like none of itmattered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Noah let go of his rising anger, deciding hewould rather focus on what the rest of the evening could bring. Hisbody was humming with a nice buzz when they walked outside. Betteryet, Harold still held onto his hand. “Where to next?”
“There’s a nice parkahead,” Noah said. Deciding to test the waters, he added, “It’s oneof my favorite spots to sleep.”