by Ben Ryder
“Free.”
“Freedom,” I said. “It’s not quite finished.” I pointed with my other arm at the paper taped next to Eddie that I had brought to specify my desired font.
Alex pulled his cheek up into a half smile that showed just one dimple, and nodded his approval. He didn’t ask the reason for my choice in words or the story behind it. As Eddie began the first stroke of the d, the pain caught me off guard. I sucked in air through my teeth and fought through the pain.
“This is one of the most painful parts of the body to get inked,” Eddie said to Alex, as though excusing my wince. “He’s been a champ.”
Then Alex did something I wasn’t expecting. He unlocked my fingers from behind my head and folded his palms around my free hand, squeezing it until Eddie took the needle away from my arm. He held my hand softly between each stroke until the tattoo was finished. When Eddie said, “Done,” Alex finally released it. I didn’t know whether the moisture in my palm was sweat from the pain or nervousness at the intimacy.
I stood in front of the mirror and took in the new addition to my body. Freedom. It was a beautiful and newly appreciated word.
Eddie added a layer of Vaseline over the finished design and wrapped it in cellophane. He gave me a sheet with aftercare instructions, and I paid the pink-haired girl. As I
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handed over the cash, I became very aware that Alex was still standing next to me. He grinned as I gingerly moved my arm, like he was as excited about the tattoo as I was.
We walked together back to the office as my bicep throbbed like it had been dipped in lava.
“Thanks for helping me get through the tattoo.”
“Hey, no big deal. I’ve been there. Glad I could help.”
He didn’t think it was a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was overly grateful and reading too much into it. Over the past couple of months, I’d often wondered whether I’d forgotten how to act around other gay men. I was isolated for so long that maybe I’d misread Alex holding my hand as a sign of affection. Maybe it was simply a kind, friendly gesture. I spent so long dodging any situation that might be misconstrued by Richard as flirting that I wasn’t sure if I was confusing or misreading situations.
We parted ways once we got back to the office, and I returned to my desk. I looked at the screen and read the last paragraph of a review I wrote before lunch. I read it twice more before I realized the words weren’t sinking into my head.
“Alex was looking for you earlier,” Jackie said, returning to her desk after her lunch date with Martin.
“He found me, half-naked with another man.” I winked.
“Ah yes, the permanent graffiti! How did it go?”
“Alex came and held my hand.”
“Oh did he now? Well, that was a very sweet thing to do. Some might even say romantic.”
“No, I think he was just being kind. The tattoo hurt like a sonofabitch.”
“Did he save you from the pain?”98
“I think he could,” I said. It was too late. The words had fallen out of my mouth. Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Make sure you go into whatever this is with the right frame of mind, my love. I wouldn’t want to see either of you getting hurt.”
“I didn’t mean—” “I know exactly what you meant. I encourage you to court that handsome young man, but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
“It really was a slip of the tongue, Jackie.”
“Well, with any luck, there will be numerous ‘slips of the tongue’ this weekend on your rafting trip. I know Alex is incredibly excited about it.”
“Really?”
“He was chatting to me about it before he went to find you. He asked me what kind of wine you liked. I think he’s going to get you a bit tipsy before he ravishes you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you didn’t need wine to get on your knees.”
“Oh, Jackie, please say you didn’t!”
“Of course not! I’m just teasing.”
“So, what wine did you tell him? Did he say what he drinks? Do you think I should take some too? How many bottles do you think—”
“Dominic, calm down. Good grief, it’s obvious you haven’t been on a date in a while.”
My face dropped in horror. “Oh God, did he call it a date?”
99“Calm down! No, he didn’t call it a date. And nor did I,
before you accuse me of meddling. Just relax. He was only asking whether you prefer red or white. I wasn’t sure, so I said it was probably a safe bet to go with white.”
“Do you think he’s interested, Jackie?” I asked, calming down at her command. “I don’t really know if I want to go down that path. To be honest, I’m a little confused about how I feel.”
“If you’re confused, it’s probably best that you play it by ear. If it feels right, then go with it. Otherwise, just enjoy the weekend.”
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Chapter Eight
Saturday, May 13, 2017
AT 5:00 A.M. I made my way to Alex’s apartment in Chelsea.
He’d rented a car to drive us to Black River Gorge, and we agreed to meet at his place to start our trip. It was nicer than my building, by far, but wasn’t pretentious. He buzzed me in, and I took the elevator to the fourth floor. I found his apartment and knocked quietly so I wouldn’t wake his neighbors.
When Alex opened the door, I found him dressed casually in jeans and a faded T-shirt advertising a shark diving outfit in the Bahamas. It seemed his thrill seeking had already gone beyond dry land. He grabbed his small overnight bag, and we headed downstairs. Before we got into the car, we stopped for some caffeine. I went first and ordered a skinny mocha latte. He ordered a black coffee. I felt like a fruit.
The journey north was a casual Q&A session. Alex seemed keen to get to know me better. He quizzed me on everything from growing up in England to my opinions of UK politics. We laughed and joked with each other as the landscape of the concrete jungle faded into tree-lined freeways. It was almost a five-hour drive, but we had no awkward silences. We stopped twice along the way to stretch
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our legs, refuel, and grab a bite to eat. The whole trip was relaxed, comfortable, and familiar. It was nice to have someone ask about me. I’d forgotten what it was like for someone to take notice or interest in me and what I had to say. The relaxed atmosphere in the car and the casual questions felt like pillow talk. We compared our childhoods and coming-out stories, our first jobs, and first crushes. The only thing that we didn’t discuss was the past few years of both of our lives. I tried to redirect our exchanges, as I thought Richard’s name might come up. I was trying to avoid a flood of uncomfortable questions. Besides, I didn’t want to taint the day by mentioning his name.
Whether Alex sensed it, I don’t know. But I noticed Alex also avoided the topic of exes. I thought perhaps he’d been hurt, too.
We finally arrived at the rafting hotel just before lunchtime. We parked and unloaded the car, and I heard the sound of glass clinking against glass in his bag as he grabbed it from the trunk. We walked through the entrance of what looked much more like a lodge than a hotel. Log walls and exposed thick beams gave it a cozy feel. Even though it was late spring, there was still a sharp chill in the air, so the open log fire that burned by the reception desk was more than welcome.
We were greeted at the desk by a fresh-faced girl in her early twenties. Alex and I passed her our IDs. She typed our names on her keyboard and paused. She looked sheepishly at the cards on the counter in front of her and said, “Okay, so we have one room for one night, which, as you know, is complimentary. However, I’ll need a credit card for
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incidentals such as the minibar. Which name shall I put the room under?” “No, there should be reservations under both our names,” I corrected her.
She tapped at her keyboard again. “I have a reservation with both your names, but it’s for just one room.” She tapped again. “And it loo
ks like it’s a room with just one king-size bed.”
I silently cursed Jackie. I was almost certain she planned this. She advised me to play it by ear, but it seemed she went out of her way to ramp up the volume.
“We’re fully booked tonight, so there aren’t any other rooms available. Would you still like me to check you in?” she asked.
I turned to Alex. He cocked an eyebrow in jest and said, “What do you think? Top to tail?”
I shrugged, trying my best to act as though I wasn’t fussed about sleeping arrangements. But I quietly willed him to go ahead and agree. He smiled to the girl and nodded to confirm. Before he could change his mind, I handed over my credit card.
“Great! Now all you have to decide is who’s the top and who’s the tail!” she exclaimed exuberantly, clearly not as innocent as she looked. She called over to a young guy and told him we were booked on the afternoon excursion. He visually sized us up and then disappeared outside. A moment later, he returned with two wet suits.
Alex opened the door, and we entered our cabin-like suite. I saw the large, solitary bed. We both looked at it long enough to notice the other was doing the same.
103It was strange, considering my recent activities with the
silver-haired man. I felt a greater thrill from this than anything I had done with him. Butterflies ricocheted around my stomach. This felt remarkably different. It was the thrill of not knowing how the day would lead into the night. The prospect of being in Alex’s arms after exploring every inch of his body out-thrilled anything I’d done in the previous few weeks. It felt like it’d been forever since I felt genuine warmth from a man. I’d been starved of that kind of comfort for so long. I already knew the sensation of light tender touches on my skin would curl my toes even more than hours of frenzied sex.
My reverie was broken by the phone ringing. Alex picked it up while I wandered around the rest of the suite. He hung up and told me that it was the girl at reception. We were due to meet the other rafters down by the river in just half an hour, so we needed to get into our wet suits.
There was an air of self-consciousness in the room as we undressed. We were both down to our underwear and, out of nervousness, I asked Alex about the river and what to expect. I desperately avoided eye contact as I slipped off my briefs. I knew he would soon be doing the same. I leaned to one side to pick up my wet suit, as naked as the day I was born. Alex gave me a wry smile and a wink as his eyes glanced down at my flaccid cock.
“You know you wear shorts under the wet suit, right?” I felt stupid and a little humiliated. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’ve never needed to wear a wet suit before.” My apology was more for embarrassing him than for me not knowing.
“I thought you said you’d done a triathlon. Don’t triathletes wear wet suits?”
104“Most do, but I only wore a pair of trunks during the one
I competed in. It’s not as if England is known for its sunshine and beach sports.” Alex considered me for a moment then flipped his thumbs into his briefs, bent over and pulled them down to his ankles in one movement. “I suppose there’s nothing like the feeling of fresh cold water over your balls. I guess if you’re brave enough, I can be, too.”
I resisted the urge to look at his cock in the flesh for fear of letting my desire show, but once he was in his wet suit I couldn’t help but glance at the shape it made in the neoprene. Even flaccid and squeezed into a dry wet suit, it created a thick bulge.
“OKAY, so let’s recap,” bellowed the instructor. He was going
to be at the back of our raft, which would be manned by three strangers, Alex, and me. He shouted over the voices of the other nearby instructors in an authoritative tone to hammer in the importance of the safety briefing. He raised his tone even higher when he reached key words in his recap.
“When I shout ‘stop,’ you will stop rowing. Your lifejackets are to be worn at all times. There will be no standing in the raft until we have come to an area where I feel it’s safe to switch positions. There is a safety cord that lines the raft. You can grip it if you go overboard. In the event that you are thrown off the raft by a heavy rapid, remain on your backs with your toes pointing out of the water, use your hands to steer until I or one of the other rafts are able to retrieve you. Do not fight the current, use it
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to steer yourself toward the bank. That’s it. Let’s have a great trip. See you in the raft.” “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this,” I said to Alex through a nervous laugh.
“You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun!” he said enthusiastically. It was easy for him to say. He’d survived skydiving, base jumping, and mountain skiing. To him, this was little more than a leisurely paddle down a lazy river. But his excitement was endearing, so I bucked up.
We were knee deep in freezing water before we got into the raft. I took my position at the back on the left, as Alex sat on the right, with the instructor directly behind us. The instructors made one last safety check before calling, “All clear!”
On cue, we paddled slowly toward the center of the river, where the current would pick us up. Since I was righthanded, the twisting and paddling on my left felt a little awkward at first. The blade of the paddle bounded off the water like a skimming stone with each of my clumsy strokes. The raft turned to the left as the guys on the right sent heavy strokes into the water, unbalancing our direction. The raft began to move quicker as we hit the faster waters.
“Back left!” the instructor shouted over his shoulder. I moved my ass to the rim of the raft and adjusted my position so I could contribute more force. It was still an awkward angle, and though the cumbersome lifejacket didn’t help, I was soon paddling in rhythm with the other rafters’ efforts.
Approaching the first rapid, I felt the raft shoot forward as it caught the downward current. “All forward!” shouted the instructor.
The raft went over a small stone shelf, and the front slammed into the froth, causing a spray of freezing water to
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cascade over us. I felt a thousand tiny pellets of ice penetrate my wet suit. Alex was shouting next to me like the drenching had awakened his spirit. A wild smile spread across his face as we neared the next shelf.
From the angle of the river, the rocks, and the varying water levels that swirled around us, it was hard to see how deep the dip was until we were on top of it. The instructor shouted “Stop!” so we yanked our paddles of the water. I held on to the rubber handle on the rim of the raft with my free hand as we rode the rapid like an out-of-control rollercoaster. My stomach dropped, and my face was met with another freezing spray of water.
Though the waters moved faster on the other side of the rapid, there was less interruption to the flow of the raft. With no more rocks or shelves in sight, the raft coasted down the river at a casual speed without any encouragement from our instructor. A valley of dense, blooming trees rose on both sides of the river. The whole scene looked like a cover of National Geographic, idyllic and unspoiled in any way. The view was breathtaking, and I was taken with the stark contrast between the valley and the island of Manhattan. The city could be a million miles away from here, instead of just a five-hour car ride. I took in the view, half expecting to see a brown bear bat a salmon out of the water when the raft lurched suddenly, tipping my balance. A hand grabbed my forearm and steadied me.
“Gotcha,” Alex said, meeting my eyes and holding the gaze. My cheeks were frozen, but I smiled bashfully just the same.
We continued down the river and ran through another dozen sets of rapids. With each one we passed, I felt more
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confident in my stroke. Finally, the last and most dangerouslooking rapid was in sight. “This is the big one!” shouted the instructor as we began steering. He wasn’t exaggerating. The water churned all around us. The back of the raft glided left, then right, like a car careening over a patch of ice. I could see the approaching shelf, but again, I couldn’t tell how steep it was until we were practical
ly on top of it. With water pulling us in all directions, the raft kinked in the middle as it tipped over the edge. I saw the men at the front disappear momentarily. The drag pulled the rest of us over, and we crashed into the froth.
“Right!” the instructor shouted over the gushing water. The splashing and fury of the water battered the rocks. I glanced over and saw Alex’ determined face as he leaned over the side and furiously pulled his paddle through the water.
“All forward!” The instructor shouted. We all began to paddle hard against the water to get us through the patch of treacherous spindrift.
I could barely see anything as the spray jumped from the rapid and I was hit with water flicked from the forward rafter’s paddle as he plunged it in and out of the river.
“Hard right!” The back of the raft bounced against a heavy rock that knocked Alex’s paddle out of his wet hands. He reached to catch the end of it. I saw his knees rise, like he was falling backward on a chair in slow motion, I grabbed the collar of his life jacket just in time to pull him back into the center of the raft. He tried to recover his balance, to get back to the rim of the boat, but we slammed into another rock, and he lurched to one side. I put my hand up to stop him falling,
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but he was too heavy. And in my momentary, futile effort to save Alex, I was knocked clean off the side of the raft. Every part of my body felt like it was clamped in a vise. The water was so cold that my lungs instantly cried for breath. But I knew I’d already been dragged under. The frigid water I’d already inhaled burned my lungs. Each underwater cough depleted what little air I had left. My helmet knocked against a rock, but the thick white water left me blind to it.
