Finding Joy: A Gay Romance

by Adriana Herrera

  I leaned across the table, hoping my smile looked genuine, and not like I was freaking about my own shit like a selfish heel. “That’s huge, for real. New York City is a great place to live too. We lived in Upstate New York, about four hours north.” I pointed at myself as he listened with interest. “I’ve never actually lived in the city, but we went a lot when I was growing up, and my friend Lucía is there and loves it.”

  His eyes widened when I said that, and he kept twisting that ring. When he finally spoke, he steered away from talking about whatever was conflicting him about going to the States. “I didn’t know you were from New York. I thought because your parents did international work you’d be based in DC.”

  I placed my hand on the table, hyperaware of the fact that if I moved it less than a centimeter, we’d be touching. “Yeah. That’s my home base right now, but my mom lives in Ithaca. That’s where my dad was from, and we moved there after he died. She wanted to be closer to his family.” I shrugged, always feeling awkward when talking about my mom’s family. “She was never very close to her own, and they were all in the DR anyways.” I played with the slice of half-eaten pizza on my plate, feeling like this whole conversation had suddenly gotten a lot more serious.

  “I did college in Ithaca and moved to DC for a job with Aid USA after I graduated. I’ve been there ever since.” I paused, thinking of how little I considered DC as home. “I travel a lot though, so I’m rarely there for more than a few months at a time.”

  He nodded and looked at me with a focus that made me breathless. Before I knew it, I was putting words to something I hadn’t spoken out loud to anyone, not even Lucía.

  “I’m actually thinking of leaving DC.” I rolled my eyes in self-mockery, trying to give levity to what I was saying, even though I felt every word in the pit of my stomach.

  Elias leaned closer as I opened my mouth again, like he understood how big this moment was for me. “Where are you thinking of going?” Elias’s questions were always earnest. His focus and attention solely on me.

  “I’m thinking of going back to school too. It’ll involve a bit of a career shift.” I lifted my hand when he raised his eyebrows. “Not a completely new field, but definitely different. I’ve been considering it for a while. This survey came at the perfect moment, actually. I’m trying to use my time in Ethiopia to decide on what’s next.”

  But instead of doing that, I’m spending an absurd amount of time obsessing about you.

  Elias opened his mouth a couple of times, but closed it before he spoke. I could tell he was carefully deciding where to take the conversation. Finally, he said, “This work is not easy. Even when you enjoy it, doing it for too long can be depleting.”

  I tried to find words to respond, but came up short. Because in reality, I hadn’t told myself why I wanted to do something else. I just felt tired of where I was now.

  “It’s partly that, but it’s a little bit more selfish, I’m afraid.” I shifted in my chair, the conversation making me a little restless. This was never easy for me. I was so much better at listening to people’s problems than asking for help about my own.

  “The thing is, even though there’s a lot about this work I love—and it’s definitely meaningful—I’m not sure it’s really what I want to do. My dad did this kind of work, and he was great at it. It was his calling, you know? Everyone I’ve ever met overseas who worked with him always talks about him with such reverence. I just don’t know if it’s what I’m meant to do.”

  I felt exposed and vulnerable for talking about this. The one huge thing that I’d always known but never wanted to look at so closely.

  But when I brought my gaze up to Elias, there was no judgment in his eyes. Then he spoke, and I felt something that I rarely did, even with Lucía. Elias got me. “This work is not for everyone. Even for those who love it, after some time, it makes sense to move on.”

  I breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled before answering, feeling like this conversation was loosening something that had been coiled tightly in my chest for as long as I could remember, sapping my energy without me knowing. “I started out wanting to follow in his footsteps, not just for myself so much, but for my mom. When my dad died, it was like a light went out inside of her, and I was desperate to turn it back on.”

  I shook my head at the memories of those first few months after my dad died, when we were both like husks walking around our house, obfuscated from grief.

  “For a long time, the only moments when she would light up were when she talked about their work and the places they’d been. What they’d done together. I wanted to give some of that back to her, but now I need something different. And it makes me feel like shit because it’s an honor to do this work.”

  My chest tightened again from what I wanted to say next. My sexuality had not come up again since that conversation with Tsehay. Elias finding out I was gay had not changed much between us, and I imagined it was partly because we’d steered clear of it since that day. Even after we finished Aristotle and Dante, he’d just commented on how much he’d liked it without going into much detail. But for some reason, tonight I wanted to push. Hear what he really thought about that part of me. It was stupid and selfish to put him in an awkward position like this, but it seemed vital to know he was okay with that part of me too. “I also struggle with how much of my personal life I have to keep under wraps while I’m overseas.”

  Elias pulled back then, his back straightening, and I could see his shoulders tense. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, looking a little panicked. Immediately I felt ashamed of hijacking the conversation and making it about me.

  I shook my head and took a big gulp of my beer. “I totally took over this conversation. We were talking about you. It sounds like you’re not sure if you want to go. Would you come back after you’re finished?”

  Elias raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands in a gesture of concession before he answered, “You just said a lot of things I would like to hear more about, but I will let you get away with changing the subject.” It was like he could see right through me. “And yes, I am conflicted. I know it’s an amazing opportunity, and I would be foolish not to take it, but I’m scared leaving will make it hard for me to come back, and the idea of not returning feels like I’d be betraying my country…and myself.”

  My impulse was to minimize, say something like don’t put all that on yourself or it’s your life and you do what you need to. But then I thought about my own struggle. I knew very well that deciding between what made me happy and disappointing those I loved could sometimes feel insurmountable. When I looked at the lines around his mouth, I saw the tension this conversation was bringing up for him. Elias would get my struggle better than most; his own was very close to mine. That realization made me feel more understood than I had in a very long time. “That’s a really big burden to carry.”

  I sat there, quietly giving him more time to say what was on his mind. After we distracted ourselves with taking sips of beer and attempting to finish the pizza on our plates, Elias finally continued. “I guess it will depend on how I feel once I experience life in a different place. How I take to it, you know? I love Addis, and my family is here, but sometimes I want to have more freedom too.”

  I cocked my head to the side, not completely certain I understood what he was saying, and was cautious not to make any assumptions. “Do you mean like not living with family?”

  He sat very still for a moment, then shook his head. “You know what, it’s not important.”

  I leaned even closer, desperate for him to go on. “No, I want to know. I mean, unless you don’t want to tell me your entire life history like I just did to you.”

  He smiled, and his head came a little closer to mine. It was like our bodies were trying to override the rules by which we were supposed to play. “I like hearing about your life.”

  His words pulsed through me. Just lit me up, ramping up even more the anticipation of the secret he was about to tell
me. It felt like my heart was pounding between my temples. Because I knew what he was about to say, and that both terrified and elated me.

  “When I say I want more freedom to be myself, I mean I want to know what it’s like to be like you.”

  The flutter in my chest was intense, like a bird was flapping its wings against my ribcage, and even before I asked the question, I knew the answer. That comment—“like me”—could mean anything, but I knew. I knew. I’d known from the first moment.

  Still, my voice shook when I asked, “Like me?”

  Instantly the energy around us seemed to change. Elias was no longer somber. He was smiling, but he put his hands up. “Okay, now I think I scared you.”

  Dammit, Elias, keep talking. “I’m not scared.”

  With the smile still on his face, he tapped my foot with his under the table. He leaned in like he wanted to avoid yelling over the noise, but even with chatter all around us his voice was sure and clear. “I’m gay, and I want to know what it’s like to live openly. I could never do that here.”

  All the breath left my body, and not because I had never heard this kind of thing before. I’d been working all over the world for years, at times in places where it was not safe to even discuss LGBTQ rights, much less be openly gay. Hell, I’d dated a few guys who had to live on the DL for their own safety. But Elias’s revelation felt like he was opening a door.

  I rushed to make sure he knew I understood the kind of trust he was placing in my hands. “Elias, I just want you to know I would never betray your confidence.”

  He tapped my foot again. “I know, konjo.” He gave me the smallest smile, and my entire body buzzed with anticipation.

  There was so much more I wanted to say and to ask, but I didn’t want to get too intense or seem needy, so I latched onto the only safe thing I could think of to say. “What does that mean? Konjo?”

  This time the smile he gave me made my entire body light up. “It means beautiful.”

  “Oh.” I had nothing.

  Language escaped me entirely while I sat there, marveling at how the spot on my knee—where it was touching his—throbbed like a beating heart. I frantically searched for a way to respond to Elias’s words, as well as the way he was looking at me, but the server brought the check, forcing us to focus on something else for a few minutes.

  After arguing about who would pay, we settled on me buying dinner and him paying the cover and drinks at the show. We walked out of the restaurant and headed to the bar, which was in a building across the street. Neither of us mentioned the conversation we’d been having before, or that Elias had come out and basically made it clear he was into me.

  I should’ve been concerned about the fact that I was once again being impulsive, and in a situation that would almost certainly end in disaster. But these weeks of getting to know him, of starting a friendship, made this all seem like the next logical step. None of it felt awkward or weird. It felt fine. I felt fine.

  So I went with it.

  The bar was called Black Orchid and it was on the top floor of a commercial building. When we walked in, we could hear Ethiopian pop music playing over the speakers. The place was about half full and it definitely had dark and smoky jazz lounge vibes. The lights were dim and there were lots of hidden corners. Small candles were placed at the center of low tables where patrons were lounging on comfortable-looking armchairs. The bar was busy, and to the right of it was the stage, which at the moment had three musicians on it setting up for the band.

  I glanced around, taking in the people in the room. It was a mixed crowd. There was a wide range of dress too. Some of the women looking runway ready, while a few of the younger American and European guys were walking around dressed in what I called “expat casual.” All-weather pants, some sort of high-end sweater/fleece combo, and hiking boots. I was pretty proud of myself for being one of the few farenjis actually wearing natural fibers. Because seriously, who shows up to a clearly nice bar looking like they were going to go climb Kilimanjaro?

  As we walked through the place, Elias ran into some people he knew and introduced me as his co-worker Desta. As always, every Ethiopian I met was delighted with my name and wanted to hear the story behind it. So we stopped and talked with Elias’s acquaintances as we made our way to the bar.

  We finally settled in a corner table close to the stage and ordered some drinks. I was actively trying not to obsess about the fact that I could probably kiss him. Not here, of course, but if we were somewhere alone, my kiss would be welcome. An image of me pressing my mouth to his invaded my thoughts. I wondered if he would probably start by grazing his tongue with mine, tasting me as I did him. Or maybe he’d just chastely press our lips together.

  Elias rapped the table lightly with his knuckles, making me jump right out of my sensual daydream. When I glanced up at him, the grin on his lips told me he had a pretty good idea of what I’d been doing. So yeah, the music needed to start soon, or I was in trouble.

  As we waited for the show, I felt compelled to bring up the conversation again. A more prudent person would’ve talked about something neutral, but not me. I jumped right into the deep and slippery end. “So, have you dated? Are you dating someone now? I would stop, but you opened that can of worms, and now I want to know everything.”

  He laughed and sipped the sparkling water he’d ordered. “I’ve dated. I can’t say it’s gone well, but I’ve tried.” His face didn’t look like it’d been good at all. I thought he would leave it at that, but he continued. “About six months ago I ended a relationship with someone after about a year. He worked for the British Embassy. In the consular office.”

  He stopped there and looked at the stage, but tonight I was apparently letting my pushiness do whatever it wanted, so I prodded for more. “Why did you break it off? Did he go home?”

  His face turned ashen then, and I almost regretted asking. Still I didn’t change to topic, because I wanted to know. “He didn’t. He had about one more year left here when we ended things, but he left early, asked for a transfer. He never really liked Addis.” He raised a shoulder, trying to feign an indifference I could see was not really there. “This was his first posting in Africa, and I think he would’ve preferred something in Asia or Europe. Somewhere less ‘rough,’ as he liked to say.”

  His face was a mix of sadness and mortification, and I felt so pissed on his behalf. The guy must’ve been one of those who went into the Foreign Service expecting to jump from European countries to “exotic” locations, only socializing with other expats. God forbid they had to interact with the people who lived in the countries. Unless, of course, they wanted to use them as part of the entertainment.

  “What happened then? Did he cheat on you?” I asked, already pissed off for him.

  Elias shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Americans, you’re always so direct. To be honest, I don’t know if he cheated,” he said, again trying hard to seem unaffected. But I could see in his knitted brows and the lines around his mouth that it still bothered him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Byron was very adventurous in bed and he was always teasing me about being too conservative. I wasn’t interested in sleeping with anyone other than him, and that made me a ‘victim of my country’s antiquated moralistic beliefs.’”

  I felt like shit for pushing him, and almost told him he didn’t need to explain, but before I did, he spoke again. “I overheard him talking to one of his colleagues about me, and what he said was not something a person who cared for me would say.” He shook his head and looked so embarrassed. “When I confronted him, he tried to convince me I heard things out of context, but it wasn’t first time he’d been disrespectful. I think the hardest part for me was that I trusted him.”

  I wanted to hold his hand, comfort him as he spoke of things that were clearly still painful, but I couldn’t. Not out here in the open. I touched his knee under the table instead, which was not nearly enough, but already much more than I could probably get away with. “
That’s so fucked up, Elias. I’m sorry.”

  His expression was one of resignation. “I opened up to him about painful and personal things, and he turned around and used those same things to talk to me like I was some kind of simpleton.”

  He smiled and touched my hand, which was still on his knee. “Byron’s not the first man I’ve been with, but he was the first person I trusted enough to talk about some of my struggles. It’s not easy being a gay man in Ethiopia. So many times I feel like a fraud. I’m out there talking about oppression, how our power lies in not being silenced, and yet I’m too scared to tell some of my best friends who I really am. Because I don’t want them to look at me differently.” He grimaced at his words, and the urge to soothe him was almost overwhelming. “Which isn’t even fair, because I know some of them want LGBTQ rights in Ethiopia as much as I do, but I’m still afraid. It’s one thing to want something in theory, and quite another to have to confront it.”

  He took another sip of his water and looked toward the stage, where one of the women setting up was waving at him. After lifting his hand to her, he turned back to me. “For some of them I would no longer be Elias, their friend. I’d be the type of person they want to believe doesn’t even exist in Ethiopia. There are people who think I’m the very symbol of the worst that colonialism did to our countries. They don’t want to hear that we were always here.” He looked weary, so different from the passionate, fiery man I’d grown accustomed to. “I shared those fears with Byron, and he used them as reasons to look down on me.”

  I had no idea why Elias was telling me all this, but I knew it couldn’t be easy for him. I felt so fucking slighted for him. That asshole Byron had taken his secrets and used them to humiliate him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m glad you didn’t waste more of your time on someone who clearly didn’t deserve you.”

  He dipped his head before he spoke. “Thank you. I felt so silly afterwards, like I should’ve known better. But I just wanted so much to have found someone that could see me.”