The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  “Yeah. The people there helped me, but I’m so embarrassed, I don’t know if I can go back.”

  We came to a standstill in front of shelf upon shelf of chocolate bars and biscuits, which gave him something new to focus on.

  “No one will laugh at you or make fun of you if you go back. I’m probably gonna be at the club next weekend, so you can sit with me and my friends.” But the mention of Vanessa and Growler seemed to make him go rigid. “Or…we could have a couple of drinks and sit at the bar, if you like. We don’t have to sit with my friends. I know Growler is an asshole sometimes, but he’s got a kind side to him, honest.”

  “I’m not sure I’m confident enough.”

  “Well…do you fancy meeting up for dinner sometime instead?” I suggested, figuring he wasn’t going to be persuaded back to the club so soon.

  “Uh—oh okay, where?” He seemed to perk up slightly at this invitation.

  “I dunno.” I shrugged as I smiled at him. “What kind of food do you like?”

  This question seemed to have him thrown because his eyes glazed over and he looked right past me. I began to think he wasn’t going to answer, but then he spoke, “I like all food, I guess.”

  I tilted my head and raised my brows in a teasing expression, pretending I was exasperated with him. “There’s that new American restaurant in the retail park near here. How about that?”

  “Okay.” He nodded quickly before I was able to offer him any other options.

  “Tomorrow night?” I added, and he nodded again. “What time?” Though I guessed from the look on his face that it was going to be my job to decide on that, too. “How’s six o’clock sound? I’ll reserve a table for us.”

  “Six o’clock is good.”

  “Shall I meet you outside ten minutes before?” I was unable to keep myself from grinning.

  “I’d appreciate that.” He spoke in somewhat of a murmur, seeming reassured by what I had said.

  “Great.” I beamed at him, before grabbing a bag of chocolate biscuits.

  Shopping with David was a slow process, but I enjoyed having a chance to actually talk without other people surrounding us and the music drowning out our voices. We visited a couple more aisles, including the frozen section, where I picked up a box of ice cream, and we chatted about the kind of foods we liked to eat. While we talked, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fetishes had drawn him to the club in the first place; he’d said he was submissive, which meant he was likely looking for someone to dominate him. Did he enjoy spanking? What about humiliation, or perhaps sensory deprivation? He wouldn’t have even been there in the first place if he didn’t have some kind of interest, and that to me was exciting. To look at him from the outside, he seemed so plain and bookish, a quiet mouse hiding in the background, and probably the last person you’d expect to be into such things, but that was what had made him stand out of the crowd to me.

  After we had checked out, we walked to the entrance and I wondered where we would go from here. The rain was hammering now, creating a wall of dense downpour where the edge of the entrance shelter ended and I knew I was going to get drenched on the way to the car, but it wasn’t a big deal. I could get straight into my pyjamas as soon as I got home.

  “I can’t believe it, it was so sunny earlier,” I remarked as we paused under the shelter.

  “Yeah, shame, really,” he commented as we looked at the grey sky marked with blotches of black cloud cover.

  “So uh—do you need a lift?” I offered, not wanting him to have to walk home in this weather.

  “Oh, no, it’s okay, I—I’ve got a car.” He shook his head, his hood making a rustling sound from the movement of his hair brushing against it.

  “Oh, okay, never mind then. I look forward to seeing you at the club soon.” I smiled as I clapped my hand on his shoulder and gave it a pat, before turning to walk off. “Later, David!”

  “Goodbye, Tenny.” He waved to me, his hand tucked under the sleeve of his coat.

  I looked over my shoulder at him until it became dangerous to do so as I stepped into the road, his dark shape becoming hazy through the heavy shower that immediately began to soak my clothes. A car neared me and I paused to let it go by before jogging to where my own vehicle waited for me. By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door, I was sopping wet. I cussed as I searched the glove compartment for a spare gym towel or some tissues until I found myself a roll of kitchen paper, which I used to pat myself dry.

  “Bloody rain,” I muttered, tearing open my pack of biscuits and stuffing one into my mouth. The chocolate melted on my tongue as I turned the key in the engine and put on my seat belt.

  The windscreen wipers squeaked to life, pushing aside the rivulets of water and enabling me to see clearly. As I exited the car-park and drove towards the end of the street, I saw someone walking on the other side of the road; I joined the line of busy traffic, peering through the side window at the lone figure, and I realised it was David with his bags in either hand. The rain was spraying off his shoulders and dripping from the hem of his raincoat.

  I moved to wind down my window, but the second it opened a fraction, a lorry thundered past and I startled back from the crack, just in time to spot David vanishing down a public footpath between two rows of overgrown hedges.

  I drew up the window; there was no way I could shout to him from here, and there was nowhere for me to pull over. Obediently, I followed the queue towards the roundabout, silently disheartened by what I had just seen. Why had he lied to me about having a car? Had I made him feel so uncomfortable that he would rather walk in the rain than get in my car? I made the excuse in my head that maybe he had parked on a nearby street, but I knew it was just a fib to try and make myself feel better. All I could do was drive on, so that’s what I did.

  * * * *

  It had grown fairly dark outside and the sky was thick with cloud, filling the air with moisture but no rain. I had worn my leather jacket anyway since it kept me relatively warm and dry. I hadn’t slept well over night as all I could think about was meeting with David for dinner, my excitement renewing itself every time I began to drift off to sleep. The day had dragged and I had watched the hours pass by as slowly as the clouds were moving above me, barely touched by the wind. Most of the large shops in the retail park had closed, but the restaurants and cinema were still open, neon lights flashing and visitors driving around the vast car-park in search of a place to leave their vehicles.

  I parked close to the restaurant, turning off the engine and resting my wrists on the steering wheel as I gazed across the concrete space between me and the entrance. I could see a figure waiting alongside the building, hanging around near the broad windows at such a distance from the doors that none of the staff would think he wanted to enter. I knew it was David immediately, mostly from the way he hung his head and stared at the ground, too shy to show curiosity in the people that passed by. I opened the car door and leaned out, waving my arm to get his attention since I figured using the horn would probably give him a heart attack.

  He spotted me after a moment of pretending I didn’t exist and apparently ignoring me; I knew he probably thought I was someone else, trying to make contact with the group of people clustered at the nearby taxi rank.

  “David!” I called when he finally lifted his head. He waved back hesitantly.

  I hurried to meet him where he leaned against the wall. He seemed to do that a lot. Maybe it gave him a sense of security knowing there could be no one behind him to catch him off guard.

  “Hello,” he greeted with a smile, but I could sense the apprehensiveness emanating from him. Being surrounded by people making lots of noise, some of them slightly drunk, seemed to make him anxious.

  “Hey, good to see you. I thought I’d arrived early, but…” I checked my watch, discovering that I was early after all. “Oh, I haven’t left you waiting here for long, have I?”

  “Oh-oh, no, I came by earlier to go to the cinema. I-I
hope you won’t mind, but…” He seemed suddenly upset with himself. I looked down as he presented me with two tickets.

  “That’s great! I’d love to go see a film with you.” I beamed, finding his gesture so sweet, but finding his shyness doubly so.

  “Really?” He breathed, appearing to relax slightly.

  “Of course! I was gonna suggest it, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it. No, I’m really glad. That’s so sweet of you,” I reassured him, placing my hand on his arm. I felt him flinch. “Listen, why don’t we go inside and see if they’ll let us get our table a little early? I think it’s gonna rain.”

  “Are you sure?” He hesitated as I motioned towards the door. “They won’t say no?”

  “There’s no harm in asking,” I reasoned, gesturing he should come with me.

  He scuttled after me, following at my shoulder as I pushed open the door to the sound of 1950s Rock and Roll and the rich scents of grilled cheese and deep fried chicken. The clamour of conversation almost drowned out Elvis’s voice. We waited near the door for the waiter to come over, and I told him we had a table reserved but we’d arrived early; he didn’t have a problem with this and took us to a booth on the other side of the restaurant, presenting us with menus once we’d seated ourselves and pausing to take our drinks order.

  Sitting opposite me, David took off his raincoat and folded it on the seat next to him. He seemed embarrassed about telling the waiter what he wanted, so I helped him by making suggestions and telling the waiter myself once he’d decided. I figured I’d join him by having a milkshake, too, picking out a strawberry flavoured one while David chose chocolate.

  After the waiter left, David adjusted the tie he wore, his neat shirt collar folded over the neck of his knitted grey jumper, the sleeves of which he’d stretched long by constantly pulling down over his hands.

  I leaned back in my seat, taking a moment to observe the clutter of Hollywood memorabilia that decorated the walls and ceilings, posters in the corner of Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash, and Rita Hayworth creating a backdrop for the life-size model of Marilyn Monroe in her trademark white dress. It was kind of tacky, but I liked the atmosphere. Everyone seemed so relaxed and were having a good time.

  “What d’ya think?” I asked David, who sat hunched with his hands under the table.

  “About what?” he whispered, glancing at me over his spectacles.

  “The restaurant.”

  “Oh.” He looked at the space around him. “It’s interesting. I’ve never been somewhere like this before. I wonder what the food will look like.”

  “It’ll probably look like heartburn on first sight,” I said and laughed, unfolding the menu. “I’ll have to keep this a secret from Growler so he can’t shame me for eating here.”

  He looked at me with a somewhat saddened expression, as if he blamed himself for my having to do so.

  “I was just kidding.” I grinned. “I’ll probably tease him about it and go into graphic detail about the calorie count. It’ll drive him nuts.”

  “Oh, right.” He relaxed slightly, smiling at last.

  The waiter brought our milkshakes and took our orders, seemingly unaware of David’s shyness, even as he struggled to pick something to eat. It was adorable how he pushed his glasses up his nose with his fist closed around a handful of sleeve, his teeth biting his lip as he looked at the menu over and over. The waiter chimed in this time and told him about their daily specials, so he opted for one of those. David came out of his shell only once the waiter had left. I began to wonder if bringing him here was a good idea; I got the feeling he was finding interacting with the staff very stressful.

  “So, umm, what brought you to the club in the first place?” I inquired in a bid to distract him and get him to relax again.

  His cheeks coloured faintly at my question. His jaw was getting stubbled from where he hadn’t shaved recently and I wondered if he intended to grow a beard.

  “Well…I guess I was looking for someone,” he eventually murmured. Fortunately, the music wasn’t as loud in the corner where we sat and I was able to make out what he was saying with relative ease.

  “Just friends? Or something more?”

  My questions caused his blush to darken considerably and he fidgeted, adjusting his grip on his milkshake glass. I watched him sip some chocolate up the straw, his eyes unable to look at me.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I said, lowering my voice. There was no one seated near us, none who would be paying attention anyway. A group of people were several metres away, but they were so absorbed in their conversation, they appeared not to even notice us.

  “It’s okay, I’m always embarrassed,” he answered in an undertone.

  “Wanna know something that embarrasses me?” I offered, and I waited until he had looked at me and given me a timid nod before I continued. “You know I’m trans, right?”

  For a second, he didn’t move and just stared. I began to wonder if I should have kept my mouth shut, but it was gonna come out sooner or later so I might as well put it out there in the open. If he rejected me, he rejected me. It would have happened later if that was the case, when it would have been harder to tear myself away, when I would have already opened myself up to injury. At least if he did it now, I could protect myself.

  “Yeah…I knew…sorry…” he mumbled, seeming ashamed by his words.

  “You don’t have to apologise.” I tilted my head to try and catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me. “Do I…I mean, did you…did someone tell you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay. Does it bother you?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Well, sometimes being trans embarrasses me. Because I always have to have conversations like this with people I meet—well, mainly people I like. Even though most of the time I think people don’t know, I always worry that it shows…” I wasn’t sure why I felt I could tell him this. Perhaps because I knew he had something he also wanted to hide from people, or because he seemed gentle and friendly. I had learned in the past, though, that even the most softly-spoken of people could be prejudiced.

  “It’s okay, I—I like that you’re different,” he told me, and when he raised his head to look at me, I saw a fond smile on his tired face. I realised for the first time that, up close, he looked a bit more dishevelled than I had first thought, or perhaps he just hadn’t brushed his hair as neatly as he had when we’d originally met.

  “Good.” I nodded shyly.

  “To answer your previous question, I was looking for something more than just friends.”

  I was mesmerised because I hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming.

  “I-I’m single and looking. I’ve never had a relationship with a male before.”

  “Are you looking for a male dominant?”

  “Yes. But I feel as though most people aren’t interested in me because…well, I dress plainly, for a start. I don’t have any fancy clothes.” He sipped more milkshake. I watched his throat contract and imagined what it would look like with a collar ‘round it.

  I shrugged. “I know what you mean. Clothes don’t make a person more experienced, though.”

  “I—I don’t have any experience, either. Only…dreams,” he added, pressing his mouth into a thin line. I could tell he was feeling embarrassed again but we were making progress and I didn’t want it to end here.

  I smiled, sucking on my straw and delighting at the creaminess of my own milkshake. “Well, if you want to share your dreams, maybe I can help you with them.”

  He smiled back as he licked his lips and lowered his straw. “Really? You don’t think I’m, well, boring?” He sounded confused.

  I frowned. “No, why would I think you were boring?”

  He shrugged. “Because…” His smile faded as he looked at his hands, wrapped so snugly in his sleeves and out of sight.

  “You’re not boring, David. I’m gonna be honest, I think you’re pretty cute,” I confessed wi
th a mischievous grin. “I can be gentle, if you want me to. But, I can be rough if you want, too.”

  He really blushed this time; even his ears started to redden. And where at first I thought I had frightened him, he actually made a cautious grin in return. When he smiled like that, his whole face lit up, and somehow, it took years off his age. He didn’t look so tired and old. It excited me, made me believe I could rejuvenate him.

  “Can I get your number? I’d like to stay in touch with you,” I asked hopefully, and I was relieved when he agreed.

  “Okay, do you have some paper to write on?”

  “I’ll put you in my phone.” I took it from my pocket, and once I had created a new contact, I gave it to him so he could type in his number.

  “Can—can I get yours?” he asked hesitantly, as though he thought I would say “no.”

  “Sure, have you got your phone with you?” I gestured towards his folded coat and, after relinquishing his glass, he took out his battered smart-phone. I was able to catch a glimpse of his hands again, but only briefly did I see his fingertips. I wanted to touch them, to see what they felt like in my own hands.

  I gave him my number and email address, and he smiled as if he had just been presented with a gift.

  “You can message me anytime. If you just want to chat or if you need my help or whatever.” I wanted to mention that I’d seen him walking in the rain, to let him know I gladly would have driven him home if he’d accepted my offer, but I understood why he had declined. Maybe he found me too intense and needed me in small doses.

  “Thanks,” he replied. The joy in his eyes was profound. He looked like a young dog that had been told by his owner to wait, but was too excited to stay still much longer, ready to launch into the air.

  I decided to test the waters. I was nervous, nervously excited, and I wanted to be close to him. Cautiously, I touched his leg under the table, watching as his whole body went rigid. I gazed into his eyes, aware that my own cheeks were beginning to blush as I imagined what it might be like if he was mine. What it might be like if we could go further than this. He didn’t move, so I gently stroked his knee, watching how his chest rose and fell deeply and a muscle in his neck twitched. His eyes had grown so glittery that the neon lights behind me caused them to twinkle brightly like little snow-globes filled with stars.