Counterbalance

by Aidan Wayne

  Melissa and John helped Bao over to the side office, and she started asking Bao questions: What’s your full name? How old are you? She followed his eye movement and had him look at an eye chart.

  “And how long was he out?” she asked John, after Bao had done all she’d asked.

  “A few seconds.”

  “Hmm, okay. Bao? Anything else hurt?”

  Bao shook his head, then clapped a hand to it, wincing. “No. Just my head. Dizzy. Hurts. But my wrists and arms are fine.”

  “Good, okay.” She turned away and came back with a couple of pills and a bottle of water. “These should help your headache.”

  Bao nodded carefully and took them from her, swallowing the pills down. John, uncertain what to do, hovered next to him. Bao reached out and grabbed his hand. His right hand, John noted, blearily staring down at Bao’s callused fingers against his scarred ones.

  “It is okay.” Bao smiled weakly up at John. “I’m fine. My head just hurts a little.”

  “I’m so sorry,” John managed around the lump in his throat. “Something went wrong with the rig and you slipped, that’s why you—”

  “Have a minor concussion,” Melissa interrupted.

  John looked up. “What?”

  She smiled at them both. “Bao’s got a minor concussion. Now, you could go to the hospital for a second opinion”—John’s fingers tightened around Bao’s, and he forced himself to relax them. If Bao needed a hospital, John was going to deal—“but I think he’s fine to go home. Bao, you just need to take it very easy for the next twenty-four hours. Bed-rest easy. Then a week without any strenuous activity. After that I want you to go by how you feel. If the headaches persist or get worse, we’ll send you to the team doctor about getting more tests done, but in the meantime, any regular over-the-counter anti-inflammatory will work.”

  Bao nodded and winced. “Yes, I understand.” He still hadn’t let go of John’s hand.

  Melissa turned to John. “He might feel like sleeping the rest of the day, and that’s fine. But make sure to wake him up every two or three hours, including at night, just to ensure he doesn’t slip into a coma. You can also use the time to check him for confusion. Just ask him some basic questions—his full name, date of birth, that sort of thing.”

  “I—” John blinked, looked at Bao, who was watching him right back, expression shuttered. “I— Yeah. Okay.” He could relay that info to someone else, anyway. Whoever Bao wanted to stay with him.

  “Do either of you have any questions?”

  “I do,” Bao said. “I can go home when?”

  “Right now,” Melissa said. “As long as you have someone with you for the next twenty-four hours.” She nodded at John, who glanced down at his and Bao’s still-linked hands.

  “Okay,” Bao said. “Good. I would like to leave now, then, please.”

  John took Bao home, helping him on the shuttle back to his apartment and then up the stairs when Bao shook a little after standing up too fast getting out of the shuttle.

  It was only once he was inside the apartment with Bao that John realized he had no idea what to do next. He should have been at the studio, checking over the rig to find out what had gone wrong, what he’d missed. It was his job to make sure things were safe, so it was his fault that Bao had—not been safe. But right now he was here with Bao, and that came first. Whatever he needed.

  “I—I could call one of your friends up,” he said to Bao after he’d gotten him sitting down on the couch. “To stay with you?”

  “Yes,” Bao mumbled, looking down. “If that would be better for you. I know you are busy.”

  “What?” John asked, startled. “Busy? Bao, if you want me to be the one to stay, I’d be happy to. The crew knows you’re more important to me. I don’t have anywhere else to be until tomorrow. I’ll look everything over then.” He couldn’t help remembering the fall, the feeling when Bao slipped, Bao’s expression as he went down. “And I swear I’ll find out what went wrong, I’ll look everything over, you don’t have to worry—”

  “I don’t worry,” Bao said easily, shifting on the couch so the seat next to him was free. He patted it, gazing imploringly up at John. John sat. Bao smiled. “I am glad you are able to stay with me.”

  “Of course,” John said, guilt gripping him tight. “Whatever you want.”

  “Your company is nice,” Bao said. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  John shifted awkwardly. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  Bao was watching him with an expression John couldn’t place. “Thank you,” he said again, voice the warmest John had ever heard. “That means very much to me.”

  John shrugged, rubbed at the back of his neck. “I just— I know it sucks, to deal with this sort of thing alone. Especially if it was scary, why you needed to deal with it in the first place.” Bao falling would haunt John’s nightmares for a long time.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I, uh.” John leaned forward in his seat. “You’ve probably wondered why I’m—” He waved at himself, his face.

  “I have.” Bao frowned. “But I would not have asked. That is not my place.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I kind of want to tell you? If you want to hear it. It’s not somethin’ I tell a lot of people though.” Bao nodded, looking serious. John hoped his meds had kicked in, that Bao wasn’t hurting as much anymore. He sighed. “Well, when it came out that I was gay. Or not even gay, just my momma caught me kissin’ a boy back when I was seventeen. You know how I’m from Texas? It’s about as South as you can get in terms of mind-set.”

  “South mind-set?”

  John swallowed. “Close-minded. Not, uh, not too happy with people bein’ different.”

  Bao nodded solemnly. “China is like that. It was a reason I wanted to try to leave.”

  Oh. That was—oh. “Uh, anyway,” John continued, tucking that thought away, “my family was horrified, but my grandma took it the worst. Caught me the next day when I came home from school and—” He let out a breath. “Tried to, uh, burn the sin right outta me.”

  John heard Bao’s sharp intake of breath, but he kept his eyes forward, not willing to look over yet. “Boiling water, so not as bad as it could’ve been. I brought my hands up in time to save half my face, my eyesight. But god, the pain was the worst I’ve ever felt. Woke up in the hospital alone, ’cause my parents were too ashamed of what happened to come see me at first. I had my birthday in the burn ward, healing. It was awful. I’ve hated hospitals ever since. Checked myself out as an adult as soon as I could. And, heh, ran away and joined the circus.” He ran a thumb across his mottled cheek. “Started as a sideshow, you know,” he said, finally turning to Bao. “Learned rigging on the road and worked my way up. Now I’m the head rigger on Cirque shows. I’ll always be proud of that.”

  Bao’s eyes were shiny with tears, and a few had escaped, little trails of wetness down his cheeks, and John instinctively moved toward him. “Bao? Bao, are you okay? Does your head hurt?”

  “No.” Bao sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “My heart hurts. My heart hurts for you and what you had to face alone. And it rages at your family,” he added in a low growl. “They did not have rights to call you theirs.”

  John had to look away from the intensity of Bao’s expression. “I weathered through it all right in the end. And I like my life now. Probably wouldn’t’ve ended up here if things had gone differently. Got a new family in the crew, you know?”

  “And me too!”

  “Sorry?”

  “I am your family now too,” Bao said adamantly. “Right?”

  John chuckled. “Oh sure, absolutely. Honestly couldn’t imagine things without you anymore.”

  “Good,” Bao said, head nodding forward. “I am glad. I am also . . . very tired.”

  “Close your eyes,” John said, shifting down so Bao could stretch out. “I gotcha.”

  John got up to make a few phone calls while Bao slept, checking in with things at work and gi
ving a status update. Constantine put him on speaker so John could announce that Bao was fine, just a mild concussion, and should be back to work in a week, and there was a rousing cheer that sprang up from the news. John had to smile at it, at how much Bao was loved.

  Next he called Anastasia, who answered with a stream of curses.

  “I’m guessing you know what went wrong, then.”

  “There was a mix-up with our order. Those gavnoyed sent over regular balancing rigs, and Vegas got our water-safe ones. It worked fine with skin-grips, but once wet it went all to shit.” Her accent was getting thicker, like it always did when she was incensed. “We already wrote up a report and are going to be filing a complaint with the company. All it needs is your signature.”

  “Good,” John said vehemently. “Great, I’ll sign ’em when I come in tomorrow. And I’ll check over the next rig myself, make extra sure it’s grip- and water-safe. Christ, I knew these waterworks were a bad idea.”

  “You know Cirque,” Anastasia bit out. “If someone isn’t hurt or bleeding by the end of the third month, the show’s not up to par.”

  “Yeah, but I’d be doing my job a hell of a lot better.”

  She clucked her tongue at him, audible through the phone. “It wasn’t your fault, John. The apparatus—”

  “The one I should’ve checked, you mean? The one I felt and—” Bao made a noise and stirred in his sleep. John tried to bring his voice down. “—and wasn’t sure about and let him use anyway? I should’ve checked it wet, I should’ve—”

  “John! Bao is fine. He hit his head a little. The mats, mats you placed by the way, broke his fall plenty. He’ll take a week off work and then he’ll be back like nothing happened.”

  “No, Anastasia, you don’t understand—” He should have checked. Been less distracted by Bao and his smiles and actually done his damn job and made sure things were safe. All he could see was Bao’s fall flashing before his eyes, a dozen different scenarios where Bao didn’t wake up at all.

  “What don’t I understand?” Anastasia said, but her voice was gentle. “You made a mistake, John. You are human. We do that. It is worse for us, because it means another’s safety, but at least in this case it wasn’t too bad. And you’ll do better next time.”

  “Yeah.” John looked over at Bao. “Yeah, I will.”

  When it just about reached three hours since Bao had dozed off, John moved to wake him up. He was a deep sleeper, although that might have been the concussion, and John actually had to shake him awake, worrying the whole time that he’d slipped into a coma like Melissa had warned about. But Bao just rolled his shoulders and opened his eyes and, yeah, smiled up at John.

  “You are here,” he said, sounding delighted.

  “Said I would be,” John replied, quirking his lips. “Here.” He handed Bao a glass of orange juice. “Drink that, it’ll be good for you. How do you feel?”

  Bao sat up. “My head does not hurt as badly, but I think that is the medicines.” He took a long gulp of juice and ended up draining the glass, Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “You hungry?” John asked, looking away so he wouldn’t get caught out staring. “I was going to order some food in for us.”

  “I could eat. I think it has been some time since my last meal.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s definitely dinnertime. What are you in the mood for?”

  Bao hesitated. “Indian?”

  John blinked. He loved Indian food. “Are you, uh, asking me or telling me?”

  “Well, I’ve never had it before,” Bao said honestly. “But it sounded like it would be good. And I like almost all foods! Maybe . . . maybe you can order me something you like, so I could try it.”

  “Sure.” John pulled out his phone. “How do you feel about spicy food?”

  “I like it a lot! China has a lot of very good spicy food.”

  John chuckled. “Okay, no problem.” That’d be easy, then. He called up the place he usually ordered from and got a few of his favorites. Lamb curry, spiced rice, lentil soup; some spicy dishes, and some with the spice toned down just in case.

  “That sounded like a lot of food,” Bao said after John hung up.

  John grinned. “Figured between the two of us we’d go through it pretty well. You’ve gotta be hungry. I just hope you like it.”

  “So do I.” Bao stood up and wobbled. John reached out and steadied him. “Okay,” Bao said, determined, “I will not stand up too fast, next time.”

  “You do that.”

  Bao flashed him a smile. “Excuse me.”

  John sent a couple of messages off while Bao was in the bathroom. Matt had his spare key, since they lived in the same building. He asked Matt to do him a solid and grab his overnight bag and bring it to Bao’s. Since John traveled so much for Cirque, he’d gotten into the habit of keeping a carry-on at the ready, in case he was called for an overnight trip after a long day and wasn’t up to packing. It’d helped him out more times than he knew. This was simply one more of those times.

  Matt replied with a string of emojis, including several thumbs-up, winky faces, and then a bunch of eggplants. What were eggplants supposed to mean? But he said he’d be by in about an hour, which was the important part. John thanked him just in time to hear the toilet flush, and Bao emerged again a minute later. He was walking with one hand pressed to his head.

  “I get rushing in my ears whenever I stand up,” he explained, when John made concerned noises at him. “Not to worry, I don’t hurt.”

  “Glad to hear it. And the food should be here soon.”

  Bao lit up. “Good!” He sat back down on the couch next to John. The silence stretched a little, John unsure of what to do or say now.

  “Have I thanked you yet?” Bao asked, after a long moment. “I may have, but I do not remember.”

  “Thanked me? What for?”

  “For taking care of me,” Bao replied. “And for staying with me.”

  John scratched at his neck. “Hell, Bao, it was the least I could do. The only reason you needed someone at all is because of me in the first place. I failed on the equipment check.”

  Bao leaned closer to John. “What do you mean?”

  John sighed. “I mean . . . Anastasia checked it out. The reason you fell was because your hand slipped. And your hand slipped because the grip on your rig wasn’t coated right for water use. And I was the one who didn’t check that properly. It’s on me, why you’re out for a week.”

  Bao took this in, then nodded, frowning. “I understand. You blame yourself. You are here because you are feeling guilty.” He sounded sad about that, so John tried to fix it.

  “I— Okay a little, but Bao, no one’s makin’ me stay. You’re certainly not. I . . . Yeah, I feel bad about it, but I’m mostly here because I want to make sure you’re all right. Okay?”

  “Yes,” Bao said seriously. “And you are the person I would want most with me anyway. So it is very okay.”

  John’s eyebrows shot up. Wow. That was, that was quite the compliment. “Well . . . thanks. Dunno what I did to deserve that but . . . thanks.”

  Bao pushed at John’s shoulder. “No, no, I was saying thank you. You do not say thank you! That makes it uneven.”

  John laughed despite himself. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.” Bao pushed at John’s shoulder again. The touch felt affectionate, close. Even if it was confusing as hell half the time, John was thankful he had a world with Bao in it.

  “John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “About your story. That you told me before I fell asleep. Why you do not like hospitals.”

  Oh. Right. “Yeah?”

  “I am very angry still. And—and I wanted to say that I was sorry. That you have to live with the memory of betrayal all the time.”

  John shook his head. “It’s fine, Bao. It’s nothing new.”

  “No.” Bao frowned, brow furrowing. “It is not fine. Because it hurts you always. And it makes you think you cannot go out,
and that people judge you, and—and I am sorry for it. That it still hurts you that way.”

  “Thanks, Bao.”

  “I think I will get the table ready while we are waiting,” Bao said, standing up too quickly again. He promptly fell down, half in John’s lap. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry.” He scrambled to stand.

  “Just take it slow, okay?” John reminded him, hoping his face wasn’t too red. “C’mon, I’ll help you with the table. You shouldn’t be doing much anyway.”

  “It is just a few things,” Bao protested, as he led John into the kitchen.

  “So you won’t mind if I clear ’em while you sit,” John said, nudging Bao in the direction of a chair. Bao huffed but sat, and John grinned at him.

  “You realize that you’re going to have to take it easy the whole week, right?”

  “The worst thing!” Bao cried, leaning forward to pillow his head on his hands. “I will not survive. You will have to make sure I am really taking it easy.”

  John’s stomach fluttered at Bao’s words, at the idea of Bao wanting to keep him around, and he busied himself by transferring the stack of mail and various knickknacks to one of the kitchen counters so that the table was clear for when the food showed up.

  Bao expressed total and utter delight over Indian food and was very pleased with himself for choosing to order it. He also thanked John about half a dozen times throughout the meal for actually ordering the food. John was going to be permanently red after this.

  They had just finished up, John standing to start putting the few leftovers in the fridge, when someone knocked on Bao’s door.

  Bao frowned in confusion. “Who would that be?”

  “Oh.” John had forgotten all about Matt. “That might be Matt. I asked him to bring some stuff by for me.”

  “Oh, yes?” Bao went to answer the door. It was indeed Matt standing there, holding John’s duffel. “Hello, Matt!”

  “Hey,” Matt said, throwing a grin at John. “Came by to drop John’s overnight bag off. How are you doing?”