Things were supposed to be better now. Now that I'd learned that being gay was never my sin, and now that I could breathe again, I didn't understand why things couldn't go back to being good. Sure, I didn't have everything that I did before, but I still had James. The fact that we lay naked, side by side, in the same bed that we had a million times before was proof. He hadn't said much since before I showed up here again and kissed him—really kissed him, unapologetically. Maybe he wanted to fight what happened next, just like he tried to resist me so long ago, but history repeated itself and he was unable to be strong. No matter the body I was in, I could still touch him the same way, and the silent quivers that went through his skin proved that I still affected him just as I always had.
To hell with it, I was done caring about what it all meant. I didn't want to think about the consequences or the possibilities. I wanted to think about right now, about what felt good and what we actually had. I knew he missed me and craved me and wished that I was here, but he was too blind to see just how close I was. It couldn't be wrong; me giving him what he needed while I took what I wanted. Still, I understood the hang up, and I missed him too. It sucked that I couldn't just tell him the truth and then deal with the aftermath. After it was all said and done, maybe we'd be able to piece together a life with what was left.
Why did it all have to be so hard? Last night was good, and I wanted it to stay that way, but I could tell from the moment we'd woken up that things were, in fact, not good. I'd been filled with a quixotic euphoria after our night of pleasure, and I didn't remember much else of what came after the sex. Maybe he'd said something then, maybe not. Either way I'd fallen asleep easily—back in my own bed, next to the man I loved. Only, when I'd come to this morning and saw that he was already well aware, it became evident that he did not share in my joy. The sloppy greeting that I'd given him was met with a muttering of words that meant little.
"You're quiet," I probed, looking over so I could watch him. He remained silent, his hands clutching the blanket over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. His face was blank, and it surprised me because usually I was so good at reading his expressions. Yet not this time, no, this time he offered no insight into his thoughts as he gazed off. The silence intensified around us, and I heard my phone buzz in my pocket. The noise seemed comically loud, and I ignored it as I continued watching him, waiting for something to change. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." There was confidence in his quick answer, but he remained as still as he'd been. Clearly his body remembered me, and it responded to that which it knew. His mind was a little slower to catch on, and he hadn't yet found a way to reconcile the tether he had to me with the feelings of my death that he clung to. It made me a little sad because I loved him, and because I was impatient, and now that I'd found my way back I wanted him to be here too. Only he wasn't, and I wasn't sure how I could show him the way.
"Are you sure?" The best I could do was pry. Our lives didn't have to be over. He didn't have to say goodbye to me, or to love. This wasn't the end, the last time he could ever let himself feel this way about someone. We could still build something special with the time that was left, all I had to do was convince him to give in. He wanted so badly to surrender his love for me, and I could feel him searching, trying to figure out how to do that. But I didn't want him to, I wanted him to carry me forever, to always harbor and protect that love. However, my mind was unchanged. He could still guard that and make room for this new kind of love, I just had to make him see that. My stare must've weighed on him, because he felt prompted by it.
"What is there to say?" Now he sounded as though he was of mixed emotion. Angry, regretful, confused. If only he would realize we were almost there. No matter what we were now, all the pieces still remained, and they could all be put back together if he would only give it a chance.
YOU ARE READING
God & Sinner
Spiritual"Don't you know that all things must bear the winter? To everything there is a season. There is no dawn before the dark, no life without death, no love without loss. These beautiful things are only made possible by that which is diseased and ugly." ...
