Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 27

Sixty-seven seconds. Samuel opened his mouth and bubbles escaped to the surface. He could spare at least sixty more before he needed to break for air. Cherry's pool was too small for laps, so all he had to dilute the numbness was a fight against oxygen starvation.

I'm taking Dwain's day shift, so I won't be home tomorrow.

With that sterile voicemail, Cheryl had broken the twenty-four-hour long silence. The only thing not sending Samuel to the loony was the sweeter, softer 'bye' at the end. He'd hung to that syllable for the entire weekend spent at Ma's; the three letters the only spark of hope that his relationship hadn't burst into infernal flames.

Sodomites marched on scorching sand in the seventh circle of hell. Maybe he should drive to the desert and repent. But why would he? He wasn't one of them. In fact, his whole adult life was based on his ability to keep himself from that sin. Not that he cared about religion. His family didn't, either, nor did Dr. O, and that was why his arguments were solid–they were backed by science, not by the idea that homosexuals made Jesus cry.

After all, if an addict strove for success, he had to put down the pipe and do the work. The same applied to him. If his ultimate goal was love, a career, and stability, he had to stop acting like a horny teenager and take a step back from his fantasies. As simple as that.

His mother loved him too much to have a firmer stance on the issue; not after their relationship almost imploded when she tried to improve his life ten years before. Now she only wanted what Samuel wanted. She backed his resolution if that avoided tearing their last shred of connection to pieces. The only thing Ma insisted on was that he be honest with Cheryl. It didn't matter that coming clean could destroy his engagement and the only reason to fight his addiction. Ma was adamant personal struggles should be shared in a marriage, to strengthen the bond; that if Cheryl knew the root cause of his behavior, the extent of his internal conflict and how hard he was working on himself, she would hold his hand through the healing journey. Ma was so sure of this, that a spark of hope had warmed his Rivers-marred soul. Bye. It could be his and Cheryl's ultimate test, and if they made it to the other side, nothing would ever come between them.

Like a cloud hiding the sun on a scorching day, a rippling shadow appeared on the blue tiles next to his feet. Samuel looked up at Cheryl's distorted presence on the edge of the pool. In a second, he broke the surface, taking in a deep gulp of air.

"How long?" Cheryl shielded her eyes from the morning brightness with her hand. Her teal scrubs matched the aquatic surroundings.

"Two minutes-five."

The hint of a smile appeared on her lips, thawing Samuel's heart. "Impressive."

He wiped his face with his palm and hoisted himself on the terracotta edge. Was her kind attitude a positive sign?

Cheryl pulled her trousers up to her knees and settled next to him, careless of the cotton becoming soaked under her thighs. Dark circles stained either sides of her roman nose under her bloodshot eyes, tell-tell signs of her near twenty-four-hour shift. A crown of wispy hair had exploded around her head, escaping her thick plait. She looked vulnerable, mighty, and breathtaking. Wetting her lips, she glances away. "Listen, I had some time to think."

Samuel's stomach knotted. He chased a droplet from his chin, his gaze planted on who could soon become his ex-fiancee. Would the truth save him?

Cheryl turned to meet his eyes. "Sorry for going MIA. I know it's not the most mature behavior."

"No, Cherry, I understand. You did what you had to do."

She nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Do you really think what you said the other night? About me sleeping–"