The Life and Death of Eli and Jay

by Francis Gideon

  Eli furrowed his brow when he didn't spot Jay on any of the benches. He turned around, looking towards the other section of the long hall, where most tourists gathered by a magazine stand. No Jay. Then, as a boarding call was announced, Eli glanced up and noticed the large black board that held train times. Some stops blinked in red when they were late, but others glowed green. Eli realized there was another part of Union Station, just below the stairs, that he had not yet explored.

  He walked down the crowded stone steps carefully. When he emerged in the underground area, Jay was easy to spot. He stood by the terminal wall, eyeing up the train numbers and exit doors as if he was considering something. The sounds of trains whirred by, but Eli couldn't locate any tracks at all. He felt his chest relax and his excitement grow as he made his way towards Jay.

  "What are you doing, Jay Red Feather?" Eli asked.

  "Eli!" Jay turned to him, his eyes wide. "I thought you were coming on the train."

  "No, never!" Eli laughed. "I wouldn't put you so at risk."

  Jay smiled wide as he put his arms on Eli's shoulders. Jay looked older, the lines around his eyes a little worn and weary. His clothing was different, too—more modern than stuff at the rez and better quality. His hair was clipped to his shoulders now and pulled back into a smaller ponytail. Jay spent a long time sizing Eli up in the same way, before he lunged at him with a hug.

  "Oh, I missed you. I wish you hadn't seen me first, though. I wanted to run across the station at you like people do in movies."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "I know. But I wanted to be ridiculous like white people."

  Eli laughed more. He felt the sudden weight of travel and Jay in his arms. "Oh, just hug me for now. Stop making a show."

  Jay nodded into Eli's neck and held him in silence. The whir of trains and people talking to one another—but not at them—was all Eli heard for some time. It was all he wanted to hear, too. When Jay pulled back and pressed his lips against his, Eli moved into the kiss easily. He opened his mouth, tasting Jay after months and months apart.

  "I love you, Eli," Jay said, forehead against Eli's.

  "I love you too, Jay."

  With another laugh, Jay kissed Eli. Even as their embrace deepened and lasted much longer than Eli could have dreamed, no one looked at them. No one said a thing.

  Alone together, Eli thought, at last.

  FIN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Francis Gideon is a m/m author, editor, and essayist. He has appeared in Microscenes, Gay Flash Fiction, Love Lane Books, and in ‘To Hell With Dante: An Afterlife Anthology’ by Martinus Press. He lives in Canada with his partner, where he reads too many true crime stories and stays up way too late. Find out more about his work online: http://francisgideon.wordpress.com/