city of achilles {bxb}

chapter 6

Tuesday (today)

Wednesday night is all I can think about as I'm getting ready. I don't put on music as I board the bus and I stare at the ground as I'm waiting for the subway. Geraldine's voice replaces all organic thoughts.

"I can't change." I tell him. "This is fucking useless, I've tried so hard." I start to cry and he puts a hand on my back. Chills run down my spine.

"You must control your urges." He lays down these words as if they're roses on a coffin. "You must not give in to these...womanly desires you have. You were made male, intended to be the head of a household. To assume a dominant role."

"It feels like I'm breaking."

"Because you're giving in, aren't you? You need to rely on Jehovah more. Cleanse your thoughts of all immorality." He leans in, staring me directly in the eye, like a bird of prey. I'm a rabbit.

"GenesisExodusNumbersDeuteronomy." I spew, gripping the armrests of the chair I'm in.

Geraldine laughs. "You're forgetting Leviticus."

"I know."

"But, Marco, you can't forget Leviticus. Verse 18:22 is far too important for you to forget."

I know. That very verse is why I almost never say it. I block it out of my memory.

He sighs at my silence. "Let's turn to Hebrews 13:4."

Geraldine hands the Bible to me after flipping through its pages. "Marriage should be honoured by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and sexually immoral."

"Good boy. Now, what does it say God is going to do to those who-"

The subway arrives. I pretend that I don't know what the rest of the question is and I pretend that I don't answer it in my head. The gentle gust it sends over to me brings me back to reality for a second and I realize that I forgot to take my meds. Once I'm inside the train, I grab onto a bar and struggle to take the bottle out of the front pocket. There are two rows of people watching me do this and they all see a bloody tissue and a plastic bag full of shaving razors and lighters fall out of the front pocket once I dig up my pills. A few of them look away, but I make eye contact with the people who are still looking. At this point, only three people are still staring as I gather up my things and dry swallow two pills. I'm only supposed to take one, but I don't care. I need it today. This is subway vulnerability. Every single stranger within a two metre radius of me now knows I'm fucked up and it's okay, because I'll never see any of them ever again.

That sentiment doesn't last long because I spot Leon exactly two metres away from me. I don't know if he saw, but he's not looking right now. I'm not feeling enough at the moment to get worried about it, but I put in my earbuds because I still have a sense of caution. I hope that he doesn't notice me. I don't wanna exchange an awkward nod and then get nervous at every following instance of eye contact. Seeing your peers on the bus or another form of public transit is a different kind of connectedness, but it's not one that I strive for very much.

All I hope is that he didn't see. The thing is, subway vulnerability can go deeper than classroom vulnerability because there's no strings attached. I have not one, but two classes with Leon, and fucking three if you count lunch. That's more than half my day at school. If Leon saw that, he now knows far more than I want him to. I think it's rather obvious what's going on. If I saw the same things pour out of someone else's bag, I'd understand instantly, but maybe that's because I have the same habit. Regardless, taking pills raises suspicion, because they could mean anything. There's a lot of mystery in that orange bottle. You don't know what's inside unless you get close enough to read the capital letters: