by Ana Ashley
As I sat at my kitchen table with a coffee in my hand, I was trying to give myself a pep talk. Today was a day for my family, and I was going to be there supporting my grandparents, my great-grandma, and my aunt and uncle. I knew it was going to be painful watching as my family laid my parents to rest, so today wasn’t about me and how much I missed them.
Today was about my family.
Deciding I would deal with one thing at a time, I got up from the table and rinsed the coffee cup before I went to my grandparents’ house to pick up my great-grandma for the service.
The drive to the Sanctuary was the distraction I needed because as it turned out, my great-grandma had her own stories to tell about a particular young man and his Citroen 2CV.
"His name was Julio. He wanted to take me out, but I wasn’t interested. I already had my eye on your great-granddad," she said, laughing lightly.
"Julio went to my father to ask if he could take me out dancing. My father knew I wasn’t interested, but Julio had been around showing off his new imported 2CV, and I’d mentioned once or twice that I’d love to drive it. He told Julio that if he let me drive his car, I may agree to go to the dance with him."
"You could drive?" I asked, surprised.
"In those days it wasn’t the norm, but I worked as a secretary for a local businessman, and it was a requirement that I pick up his children from school, so he paid for me to learn. My dear, in a different life, I would have quite enjoyed being a racing driver!" She was so animated recalling her youth that it was a pleasure to listen.
"So what happened? Did he let you drive his car?" I asked curiously.
"He did. I said I would go dancing with him if he let me drive it. I took him for a spin. Of course, in those days, there weren’t as many cars on the road, so I got to quite a speed. He didn’t enjoy the ride as much." She almost sounded apologetic. Almost.
"Why not?"
"The moment I stopped the car, he got out and was sick right on the road, and then said he was probably going to give the dance a miss."
"So you got to drive your dream car and didn’t even have to put out. Avó, you sassy girl." We were both laughing out loud by the time I pulled up at the Sanctuary parking lot. My great-grandmother looked younger when she smiled like that, and I was sad that I would never get to see my mother’s laugh lines from old age.
My great-grandmother put her hand on my cheek and, looking into my eyes, said, "God only gives us what we can handle. Remember that, son."
The rest of the morning took on a more serious note. The minister delivered a beautiful service: emotive, well written, and inspirational.
It wasn’t until the service ended that I saw David sitting a few pews behind me to my right. Our eyes met, and I felt unwavering support in his gaze. Regardless of what had happened between us and all the questions I had, I knew that as a friend, David had my back, and that meant everything in this moment.
Once my family scattered the ashes over the cliff, some people left while others hung back to express their condolences. I was surprised to not only speak to so many people who knew my mom but just as many that had also met my dad and knew him well.
David was standing back from the group of people still talking to my family, so I went over to him. "David, thank you so much for coming. It means a lot to me."
"I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The minister was kind to mention my mom and how they must be in heaven looking down and watching over us. I’m not religious, but it’s a nice thought."
I took a step forward and hugged David. We stayed like that, no words required, in each other’s arms for a minute, just allowing ourselves a bit of comfort.
We were interrupted by my great-grandmother who was accompanied by Teresa. "My dear, I’m going to go back with Teresa. You stay here a bit longer. I’m sure David won’t mind staying with you if you give him a lift back," she said with intent, although I couldn’t tell what that was.
"Um, yeah I don’t mind... if that’s okay with you, Aunt Teresa," David said, and I swear there was a slight blush on his cheeks.
“Of course, my dear. We could do with a good catch up, anyway,” Teresa said, winking at my great-grandmother.
We talked with a few more people who knew both our moms and my dad. When most of the people had left, we decided it was time to go too. It was after lunchtime, and I was starting to get a bit hungry now that the morning events had finished. I also needed a cold drink after standing outside in the sun.
"David, would you mind driving back?" If I was going to be in a car with David, I wanted to be able to look out of the window and think. Maybe I’d build enough courage to ask him what I needed to know.
"And drive the old classic? You bet I don’t mind," David said, pulling his keychain out of his pocket.
We drove back almost the same way I’d come, but at some point, I must have been distracted while looking out of the window because suddenly I realized we were at a beach. Not just any beach, though. We were at Fonte da Telha, our beach, the place we’d spent so much time as teenagers and the backdrop of our first kiss.
I couldn’t utter a single word when I looked at David, my mouth opening and closing as if I were a fish. David chuckled and said, "Come on, Nemo, we need to talk, and I’m hungry. There’s a snack bar here that does the best bifana you’ll ever have."
At that prospect, I got out of the car quickly, my mouth watering. It had been years since I had the Portuguese specialty that was a pork steak sandwich.
David paid for our sandwiches and cold drinks, and we brought them back to the car. We were parked under the shade of a tree, so with the top of the car down, it was the perfect way to enjoy our lunch. It had been a long morning, so we ate in silence, just watching the lulling of the waves on the sand.
"I’m sorry," I said, breaking the silence.
"What? What are you sorry for?" he asked.
"For making a move on you, for weirding out afterward. I...um... when you sucked my finger... I thought..." Jesus, it was like I lost the ability for coherent speech. "I’m sorry I left so quickly. We should have talked about it, but I guess I felt..." My voice trailed off and my sentence went unfinished. I was looking ahead at the ocean, lacking the courage to look at David. How could I say I felt rejected by him and it had hurt more than I thought it should?
"Joel, look at me," he said, putting his warm hand on my forearm. "We are consenting adults. It happened, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I am sorry I stopped it, and I am sorry I said I didn’t mean to kiss you." He said it in such a relaxed manner as though it really wasn’t a big deal that we kissed. Maybe it hadn’t affected him in the same way as it had me. I could feel the disappointment building in the pit of my stomach.
"Oh...okay...yeah, no big deal," I muttered.
I could have left the conversation there, but I needed to know if he was gay. I don’t know why that made a difference to me, lots of guys experimented with other guys, but David was different. Or maybe my feelings toward him were different because of who he was. Gathering the necessary courage, I looked out of the window toward the people walking past and asked, "Are you gay?"
I must have been too quiet because David asked me to repeat the question. Looking back at him but closing my eyes as I spoke, I asked once more, "David, are you gay?"
David sighed and let out a big breath. Hell, what did that mean?
"I am," he said, looking out toward the ocean.
"But you’re not out," I said, phrasing it as a statement more than a question.
"No. No, I’m not," David said with finality, and because I was a sucker for punishment, I had to push through for more.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Some of us can’t afford to be out as gay, play house, and live our happy lives as if it’s all okay," David said with some anger mixed with a hint of sadness. I wasn’t sure if I should press for more, but I wanted to let him know it was okay to feel whatever he was feeling. I wanted him to know he could open
up to me if and whenever he was ready.
I turned my body to him and held his face, one hand on each cheek. I hoped to convey my feelings without having to use words because I wasn’t sure I knew what to say. He was crying when he looked up at me. His dark brown eyes were shiny with tears, and he looked exhausted. No, he looked defeated, and I didn’t know what to do.
"David."
He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin and his mouth was mere inches from mine. Without closing his eyes or breaking eye contact, he kissed me. Even though I was the one holding him, he planted a soft kiss, and then another one, and then he kissed the corner of my mouth, his eyes still on mine. As my lips parted, I let out a moan, and I felt his tongue across my upper lip. I closed my eyes, letting go and leaning into David, deepening the kiss, tasting the salt of his tears. His hands gripped my shirt to keep me close. Fuck, I needed to stop this, or I’d be coming in my pants very soon.
I pulled out of the kiss breathless, our foreheads touching, and my eyes still closed. "Do you want to tell me?"
David leaned back into his seat, let out a tired breath, and started talking. I held his hand and rubbed circles on his wrist in soothing encouragement.
"My friend Isaac came out to his parents when he was seventeen. I remember him telling me he was going to do it. He got along with his parents so well that he was sure they would be okay with it. They weren’t. In fact, they kicked him out of the house that same night. He came to stay with me. He was so upset. His world had shattered because the parents he was so sure loved him unconditionally had just basically decided he wasn't their son anymore just because he liked boys." David stopped for a moment as though he was considering what to say next, so I nodded for him to continue.
"He was telling me what had happened when my uncle came to the apartment. He used to have the keys to check up on me when I was younger, but I was eighteen then. He found us sitting together on the sofa. I was comforting Isaac, but my uncle thought it was something else and lost it."
"David, what’s going on?" Uncle Mário had shouted, his face beet red with anger.
Isaac jumped back and landed on the other end of the sofa.
"Uncle Mário, it’s not—" I tried to explain but was interrupted.
"Shut up! Is this what you do to your family, you little faggot? We look after you, and you behave in this way? What will your aunt think?"
I’d never seen my uncle display such an extreme reaction, and it scared me. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt me such was the extent of his rage.
"And you," he’d said turning to Isaac, "You leave this house and do not come back, or I will make you regret it." He grabbed hold of Isaac by the shirt and dragged him out the door.
“I was in shock, unable to react. I was afraid my uncle would become violent, and the last thing I wanted was to provoke him into action."
I couldn’t believe what David was telling me. I didn’t remember much of Mário other than he was always at the café and seemed like a nice man. He used to sneak us treats when we were kids. I didn’t recognize this version of the same man, but then I remembered the feeling in my gut when I met him that first night at the café during the family dinner.
"I was only eighteen, and while I was self-sufficient at home, I didn’t have any life experience. I’d never even had a boyfriend," David explained. “My uncle said it would break my aunt’s heart if she found out about it. I didn’t want to believe him, but after his reaction that evening, I wasn’t sure my aunt wouldn’t be the same. I couldn’t even lie and say it was a misunderstanding because while nothing had happened with Isaac and we were just friends, the truth was that I was gay. I didn’t confirm it, but I also didn’t want to lie.”
“You don’t have to justify it. My parents and my family accepted me, but I am not immune to homophobia, and I have some friends whose parents weren’t as accepting.” I couldn’t know how it felt to be in his shoes, but I wanted him to share this burden he’d been carrying for so long. “What happened to Isaac?”
“I spent the whole week looking for him. He’d left his parents’ with very little, and my uncle didn’t let him grab his stuff before throwing him out of my apartment. I tried to chase after him but couldn’t find him. His brother was going crazy, looking everywhere he could think of as well.” David looked upset as he recounted the events, but I let him do it without interruption.
“That first night, he didn’t know what to do, so he went to the bus station hoping to feel safer with people around. He ended up being punched by a man who wanted Isaac to blow him and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I went to the bus station the next day, but as it turned out, I missed him by hours. I found him a week later in the field near our school. There was an old bus shelter that wasn’t in use anymore, and that’s where he had been. He’d lived on scraps of food he’d found in supermarket trash containers. He’d tried to look for a job, but without any clean clothes or a chance to bathe, no one looked at him twice. I brought him home with me and made him stay until he got on his feet. I changed the locks to the apartment too.”
“You are a good man, David. Not many people would have been that brave.”
“I was a coward, still am. I’m afraid to tell my aunt, even though I think she will be okay with it. The fear that she might not be is stopping me from telling her.”
“It’s okay. You’ll figure it out,” I said reassuringly. “I don’t think either of us should be alone tonight. What do you say we go back to your place and watch trash TV? Maybe even read more of the journal if you want?”
“My place, huh?” he asked.
Maybe it was wrong of me to invite myself over to his apartment, but his place felt more homely than mine. Tonight, we both needed to feel at home.
“Yep, you have ingredients. Ingredients equal cake.” I grinned.
David chuckled in disbelief but gave me a quick hug and got the car started.
13
David
Leaving my bed this morning was hands down the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. Ask me to bake two hundred custard tarts and then a four-tier cake? Easy. Getting out of bed when Joel was in it? Hard. Although not as hard as I was right the fuck now, thinking of Joel lying there in boxer shorts and a T-shirt that was crumpled up, showing the outline of his perfect ass.
Maybe it was good that I had to go to work today because had I not, I’m not sure I would have stopped myself from touching Joel like I wanted to.
Now that Joel knew I was gay and we’d kissed again, it was like my mind had found permission to think of all the possible scenarios in which I wanted Joel. On me, under me, in me, around me, fuuuck!
Yesterday when we came back from the beach, we went to my place, planning on watching a load of crap TV, eating cake, and working on the plans for our road trip. Joel had gone to his apartment to grab some sweatpants and a T-shirt while I’d been in charge of rustling up a cake.
By the time Joel had come back, the cake was nearly ready to go in the oven, so he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the kitchen table watching me work.
“Wow, you work fast. What are you making?” he asked.
“Thanks.” I smiled. “I’m used to doing it, I guess. I’m making a chocolate-and-vanilla marble cake.”
“Can’t wait. When is it going to be ready?” Joel asked impatiently.
“We had bifanas not that long ago. How are you still hungry?”
“Who said I was hungry? It’s cake. There’s always room for cake. Besides, I need to test the quality of your baking. I hear it’s the best.”
I felt my skin warm at the compliment.
In the safety and comfort of the walls of my apartment, I was comfortable talking and even flirting with Joel. It felt good, natural, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just because I was attracted to him. We were first and foremost friends, and the ease with which our relationship had worked when we were kids hadn’t disappeared in adulthood.
For the rest
of the day, we talked, drank beer, and finally caught up with the missing years. We also ate cake, and I found out that Joel was right. For him, there was always space for cake, and the proof was in the plate of crumbs that was still sitting in the sink when I left this morning.
True to Joel’s suggestion, we weren’t alone last night. He slept in my bed right next to me, and I fell asleep fast and deep like I hadn’t in a long time. We hadn’t kissed again, but we held each other close.
I usually slept on my side, facing the door, but this morning when I woke up and opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ceiling and then felt a weight on me, warming me like a blanket.
I’d looked down and saw Joel wrapped all around me, his head on my chest, his arm had come around my torso, trapped under me, and his legs snaked around mine. I felt his morning erection against my thigh while mine was trapped against his leg, and I’d wanted for nothing else but to pull him even closer, wake him up with kisses, and take care of our growing problem.
Needing to get up to go to work was the only thing that was stopping me from giving in.
I’d carefully disentangled myself from Joel, leaving him mumbling in his sleep—something about cake—and took care of myself with a quick shower. I left a note asking Joel to join me in the café later and left.
It was almost ten in the morning when Joel came through the café doors, looking rested and having the biggest smile on his face. It suited him, being happy. His eyes were always a little bluer when he smiled.
“Hey, bom dia, sleepyhead.” He looked around as if checking there was no one around. My heart warmed at the thought he was mindful of my secret. “It’s just me here. We had a quiet spell, so my aunt went out to run some errands. My uncle is closing, so he’ll be in at lunchtime. Have you had breakfast?” I asked.
“Yeah, I went home for a shower and had something to eat too. Although I wouldn’t say no to a fresh custard tart, and I’m not even ashamed to ask for one.” He winked.
God, this man was going to be the death of me.
