by Jude Sierra
“Hmm?” Reid’s curls his hands around Joaquim’s hips.
“If you’re going to start greeting people with cheek kisses, I should teach you the etiquette.”
“Oh.” Reid says. “I didn’t realize I did that! No, I think I’ll save them for you.”
“So.” Joaquim toes off his shoes. The condo smells delicious, like spun sugar. The kitchen is empty. Reid invited him over for a date night, his only instruction to bring comfortable clothes because they would be staying in. “What are we doing? I am here at your will.”
Reid’s cheeks flush, and his eyes flicker to the kitchen and back. “Well, there’s been a change in plans. Do you have a bathing suit?”
“Reid,” Joaquim says, leveling him with a look. Reid laughs and pushes him back out the door.
“I get it, I get it, you’re always prepared. Just go get dressed.”
Reid is bustling around the kitchen when Joaquim comes back in with his bathing suit. Joaquim knows the look of secrets and nerves, so he can tell something is going on. Reid seems happy enough, though, and as long as he’s happy, Joaquim is content to play along. He lets himself be shooed off to get changed. Reid’s left clothes on the floor in his room, and the bed is rumpled.
“Have you been taken by one of those—what are they called? Pod things?” Joaquim asks when he emerges.
“What?” Reid closes the lid on a cooler with a snap.
“Your clothes are on the floor.” Reid rolls his eyes. “Well, if you’re going to clean up, get on it,” Joaquim says, and smacks Reid’s ass lightly when he moves past him.
“Save that for later,” Reid says, wagging a finger at him. This, this boy is the bright, beautiful person he’s tried to describe to Nina and Bobby.
The cabinet door where the garbage is kept is open, and a roll of garbage bags unspools from the counter to the floor. Joaquim rolls them up. He’s a little clumsy and sloppy; when he slides the garbage can out to put them behind it, he’s surprised to find the source of the candied smell. What appear to be dozens of slaughtered cupcakes fill the can. Pastel frosting is smeared around the rim. There’s even some frosting spattered on the inside of the cabinet door. Reid is making grumbling noises in the other room; fast on his feet, Joaquim unrolls the garbage bags once more, abandons his desire for a glass of water, and perches on a stool at the breakfast bar.
They head to the pool hand-in-hand. Reid carries a cloth Publix bag he won’t let Joaquim look into. Joaquim lugs a surprisingly heavy cooler.
“We’re going to break a few rules, so be prepared,” Reid warns him.
“It’s a little light out for public indecency,” Joaquim says. Sunset is hours off.
“Keep it in your pants, buddy.” Reid squeezes his fingers. The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “Not that kind.”
Joaquim doesn’t respond. There’s nothing he could say, no words to put around this happiness. He wants nothing other than to be in this moment, with this man. The pool deck is empty, with only pulled-out chairs at the shaded table to show that anyone was there. Half the chaise lounges are still folded.
“Oh, yay, no one is here.” Reid sets his bag on the table with a loud clunk.
“You are so adorable,” Joaquim says, snagging the front of Reid’s swim trunks to pull him closer. They’re new, a bright red that calls for attention. “If you wanted me alone, why bring me here? Talk about risky behavior.”
Reid snorts and extricates himself with a look that’s rich with a promise for later. “It’s so warm; no one wants to get into a warm pool,” Reid explains. “It’s like taking a bath. No one has been here in the evening all week.”
“All right. So what do you need from me?”
Reid fiddles with the straps of the bag. “Well, okay, I am realizing I didn’t plan this well enough. I need you to close your eyes. Go over there or something.” Reid waves to the far end of the pool.
“O—okay,” Joaquim says.
“I had to recalibrate on the fly.”
Joaquim runs his fingers through Reid’s hair; it’s an unstyled mess. Reid’s face is naked, and he’s utterly himself. Reid doesn’t adjust to changes well, but he seems happy enough. “All right, lindo.”
Joaquim busies himself cleaning the seldom-used lounge chairs in the far-right corner of the pool deck. The pool is rarely busy enough for anyone to want to sit here, under the trees. He tries not to decipher the sounds behind him, to suspend himself in the sweet moment before surprise.
“All right,” Reid says. “Close your eyes.”
“Oh, is it my turn now?”
“Yep. Please try not to fall; we’re aiming for romantic.” Reid guides him with one hand on his shoulder and the other at the small of his back, trusting Joaquim to keep his eyes closed. “Hand out,” Reid says. He takes Joaquim’s hand, puts it on the back of a chair, and lets Joaquim fumble into it. A whispered kiss to his lips, then two more to his eyelids and Reid’s soft command to open his eyes make him viscerally aware of love, as if Reid’s touch has become a living thing, something curled inside Joaquim, something he can cherish and hold and keep.
The table is set with candles Joaquim recognizes. There’s also a beautiful charcuterie plate, chocolate-dipped strawberries dewing from the humidity, and tall drinks garnished with lime wheels.
“I’m breaking some rules with these. I did some research online and thought I’d try to make something that might remind you of home,” Reid explains. He’s twisting his hands nervously. “Also, we’re eating on the pool deck, although no one really pays attention to that.”
“Reid.” Joaquim turns and presses his cheek against Reid’s belly, closes his eyes into Reid’s fingers ruffling through his hair.
“I had a plan for something else, but I fucked it up. Um, so the drinks don’t match but, yeah. Caipirinhas?” Reid tests the word out slowly, fumbling over the pronunciation.
“Hey, hey,” Joaquim says, catching Reid’s fingers and kissing them. “This is wonderful.” It also explains the cupcakes. “Thank you.”
Reid’s eyes are bright, and his smile is shy, sweet in a way Joaquim never could have expected when they first met. “You are so welcome.” His next kiss is somehow even sweeter. It lingers, it promises, though it’s not about the heat that so often sparks between them. It’s love, is all. It is simple and full.
“Let’s eat.” Reid pulls up a chair. “Tell me what you like.”
“I want to try it all.”
“Well, then, here.” Reid selects an olive, “These are my favorite.” Joaquim allows him to slip it between his lips. He holds Reid’s wrist carefully and nips at his fingers.
“Delicious.” Joaquim doesn’t let go. Reid cups his cheek briefly and smiles again.
They eat slowly, moving to the strawberries eventually. Night begins her sweet slide across the sky, slipping over the light.
“Wanna swim?” Reid asks after they’re finished. His feet are in Joaquim’s lap. He’s been nursing his drink.
“Of course,” Joaquim says. Everything is so easy. Joaquim doesn’t want to look ahead, to think back, to wonder how fleeting these moments might be. “I’ll race you.”
Reid is off in a flash, faster than Joaquim anticipated. “You’re predictable,” he says with a chlorine-flavored kiss and an apology that is all mischief and no actual regret. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry tonight didn’t go how I planned.”
Joaquim squeezes Reid’s waist. “Since I have almost no idea how it was meant to go, I must say with honesty, tonight has been perfect. What happened?”
“Almost?” Joaquim could read that deflection from twenty yards away.
“Reid.” Joaquim adopts a singsong tone. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s dumb.” Reid won’t look at him.
Joaquim pushes Reid away and splashes him. “Wanna play a game?”
> “What kind of game?”
The water is rather warm. “Twenty questions?”
The light glints from Reid’s eyebrow piercing when he raises his head. “Gosh, I really have changed your life if you can’t get in the water with me without wanting to commit indecent acts.”
Joaquim crowds Reid against the side of the pool. “Changed forever,” he says, and when Reid kisses him it’s with a heat that leaves him breathless.
Joaquim starts with easy questions; this time, when Reid asks him questions, he’s better prepared to answer.
“Reid,” Joaquim whispers. He pulls Reid as close as he can, arms tight around his waist, palms running up the back of his swim shirt. “What’s the primary ingredient in a cupcake?”
“Oh, no,” Reid groans, head thumping back against the side of the pool. Joaquim laughs.
“C’mon, I know you know it.”
“Well, you definitely need flour,” Reid says. “I’m sure everyone knows that.”
“What if you were going to make special cupcakes?” Joaquim nips at Reid’s earlobe.
“Unfair.” Reid pouts and pulls away.
“Would you categorize any recent attempts at baking as your signature or showstopper product?”
“Oh my god,” Reid says with a embarrassed gasp. “How did you know?”
“What’s your deepest, darkest guilty pleasure, Reid?” Joaquim’s lips are at Reid’s throat in earnest now. Reid’ll have marks tomorrow. He squirms away and ducks underwater.
“Too many questions in a row,” Reid says from behind him when he surfaces. “I think that’s cheating.” He tries to swim out of reach, but Joaquim snags him before he can get away. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing.”
“What? Why?”
“Seriously, how did you know?”
“Reid, your entire DVR is marathon episodes of The Great British Baking Show. If this is the way you keep secrets, I must advise you be more devious.”
“Damn, I should never have left you alone with that TV.” Reid still won’t meet his eyes.
“So, final question,” Joaquim asks, hand on Reid’s cheek, coaxing him to meet his eyes. “Were you trying to bake for me?”
“Yes,” Reid says. Joaquim has to bend to hear him.
“You know, that’s about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Joaquim isn’t lying. Reid can cook well enough, but Joaquim knows from passing comments that he can’t bake worth a damn.
“Really?” Reid brightens. Joaquim wonders at the love Reid has in his heart, the sweetness and attention and affection. He wonders at Felix, who somehow missed this part of Reid, who didn’t want it.
“Maybe...” Reid tucks himself close, with his face nuzzling Joaquim’s neck and his hands laced behind his back. He swallows. “I was trying to make key lime cupcakes to go with the Caipirinhas. Maybe next time we can try together. God knows I could use a set of eyes to tell me what the hell I’m doing wrong.”
“Yes.” Joaquim kisses the crown of Reid’s head and closes his eyes when Reid kisses him behind his ear. “I would love that.”
Twenty-four
Joaquim is a self-aware man. He’s innately patient and has always been gifted with the ability to calm others, to make them comfortable. He enjoys adventure and travel and avoids sliding into lazy contentment in any place. He loves his family; they are his only true roots. He knew he was gay early on and never questioned it.
This kind of happiness is new knowledge: how it feels, how easily he accepts it, how it flows naturally through him. Reid makes him aware of his happiness, both in the joy being in love brings and in the stark difference in their emotional experiences. Reid is not always happy. It’s clear that Reid wants desperately to be happy, that he savors and is grateful for the happiness he does get.
“Can I come over?” Joaquim asks over the phone for the third time. He’s gentle with Reid’s subdued voice and barely-there answers.
“You don’t understand,” Reid says. “You don’t understand. Just. Can I call you tomorrow?”
The tightness in his throat makes it hard to reply. Reid’s downswings make Joaquim feel helpless and frustrated; they’re beyond his power to help or alleviate. And in the midst of them, Reid always shuts him out.
Reid told him that his mental illness isolates him. Even with family and friends, he was isolated. Without friends, and with only Felix for company, he was isolated. At Sycamore Grove. Here, before Joaquim.
Joaquim feels isolated himself, powerless and frustrated. Other than Reid, Joaquim is alone as well, with no one to help him understand what he and Reid are going through.
* * *
“Hey, babe.” Joaquim kisses Reid’s cheeks.
“Hi,” Reid replies. He’s a little pale; his smile is a tiny bit wan. But Reid’s happiness at seeing Joaquim is genuine, if muted.
“You okay?” Joaquim asks.
Reid huffs and grips the steering wheel too tight. “Fine.” Even his voice is tight.
“Um,” Joaquim reaches to put a hand on Reid’s thigh, then thinks better of it. “Did I do something wrong?”
Reid takes a breath. “No. No, I’m sorry, I’m sensitive right now.”
Joaquim, at a loss, doesn’t say anything. Despite Reid saying he’s okay, tension fills the car.
“So,” Reid says. Joaquim exhales, grateful that the silence has been broken. “We can eat inside or out overlooking the water. Do you have a preference?”
“Oh, I don’t care. I guess it depends on how hot you are.” Joaquim catches Reid smiling as well. “I mean, you’re always hot. Just. Temperature.”
“J, I got it.” Reid pulls into the parking lot of the Buzzards’ Roost, which Mike recommended to Joaquim.
“I want to be sure.” Joaquim kisses him softly.
“Your inability to keep your hands and mouth off of me seems like a good indication,” Reid says. His eyes are bright, framed by his eyeliner, and his smile is lopsided. Somehow, Reid is both sexy and adorable. Love and lust and affection swirl and ache in Joaquim’s chest.
“You’re finally wearing shorts regularly,” Joaquim says. “Hopefully you’ve acclimated to the humidity, because late August and into September is truly a bitch, from what I hear. Let’s try for outside.” What he doesn’t say is, he’s learned that the sound and proximity of water calm Reid. Whatever tension was between them earlier has dissipated, but Joaquim is beginning to understand the truth Reid has been offering him: His moods are unpredictable, especially lately.
“Great!” Reid kisses him again, a fast, casual kiss, the kind that speaks of comfort and stability.
It’s only four; the restaurant isn’t too busy for them to grab a spot overlooking the water. And it’s happy hour.
“Oh, that looks delicious,” Reid says, eyeing Joaquim’s margarita.
“I could probably sneak you a sip.” Joaquim twists the drink by the stem of the glass.
“No, it’s fine. If I want one badly enough I could make one at home, provided someone buys me liquor.” Reid winks. “The other night was a splurge. I don’t like the idea of mixing medicine and alcohol, though it’s technically okay with my everydays. And I always regret what an ass I make of myself the next day.”
Joaquim shrugs. “Can I ask about your meds?”
“Sure,” Reid says. “What do you want to know?”
What Joaquim wants to know is, if Reid takes them, why does he still experience cycles the way he’s described? Isn’t the point to stop them?
“Um.” Joaquim pauses and blows out a breath. Under the table, Reid’s foot bumps his, and then both feet wrap around his ankles. “You said I can ask questions. But I can’t lie; I don’t want to ask something that seems offensive. I have no idea how to handle this.”
His feet remain in contact with Joaquim’s even when his eyes don’t. “I’ll
keep that in mind,” Reid promises.
“So—you take meds for?”
“Well, I take two for the mood disorder. They work in different ways. One keeps me level in the longer term. One is more short-term-acting; it helps with the agitation and the actual rapid cycling.”
“It helps but doesn’t…?”
“No, it doesn’t get rid of them entirely. It helps a lot. And we’ve tried different things. The ones I’m on are great for a lot of reasons. The long-acting one I’m taking—Lamictal—is a great one for mood disorders, and I’ve had almost no side effects. Maybe in the future I’ll have to change my meds again. It’s always a balancing act. Right now my therapist, Nancy, thinks that part of what’s making things rougher is the transition. I’m in a new place. And telling you about everything. She keeps telling me to set up a support network here.”
“What kind?”
“Friends? Therapy? I’m not sure.” Reid closes his eyes. “It’s hard to trust people with this. I have my group back in Wisconsin. I Skype into the meetings remotely, but the distance changes things, I guess.”
Reid’s been alone with his truths here: Joaquim is unfamiliar with Reid’s particular mental illness. Knowing it’s there, though, couldn’t that be a start?
“But now I have you,” Reid says, echoing Joaquim’s thoughts. “I mean, I want to be clear. You aren’t responsible for my well-being. You don’t have to take care of me. I don’t want to be treated like I can’t take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” Joaquim says, quietly but with conviction. “But I can be here for you, right?” What he wants is enough of Reid’s trust to let him in when he’s low, when he’s struggling. He has no idea how to help, but being shut out the way he was this week was so hard.
“J. I love you. I do. But it’ll be harder than you think,” Reid says. Joaquim forces himself to linger on the love part, not the closed-off part.
“Is it crazy, falling in love so fast?” Joaquim winces as soon as the words are out. Reid only grins, though.
“You can say crazy with me. I do all the time, but it’s a dark humor thing and I only do it with people I know. I’m not really a word-policing kind of guy, unless it’s something racist or homophobic or misogynistic.”
