A Tiny Piece of Something Greater

by Jude Sierra

  “Want to come up?”

  Joaquim lights up. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

  They’re just shy of the porch when anxiety begins to curl inside Reid. He has to talk to Joaquim now, before things go further, about Felix and what happened. Well, about the one thing.

  “We need to talk first,” Reid mumbles as soon as they’re past the screen doors. Joaquim’s hands frame Reid’s hips; he doesn’t drop them, but squeezes.

  “Okay.”

  “Want some water or something to drink?” Reid stalls frantically, refusing to turn and look at him.

  “Yeah, sure,” Joaquim says slowly.

  Reid fills a glass with ice, and the loud grinding of the machine and the clatter of ice cubes into the glass are too sharp, too intrusive after the quiet of their interlude. Reid hands the glass to Joaquim and then hops up on the counter. Sand is still on his feet and now on the floor. He’ll have to vacuum before it spreads.

  Reid’s fingers tangle. He presses the edge of his thumbnail into the soft cuticle of his forefinger.

  Little hurts, Nancy calls them. They’re a transition as he learns to cope, learns not to need self-destructive behaviors but to recognize the limits of his coping skills and find less dangerous ways to stay calm.

  “The thing is that I’ve… in the past I… I can be impulsive, sometimes.”

  “Okay,” Joaquim says. He hops onto the counter across the kitchen. Reid glances up, then back at his hands.

  “Maybe the other night was a little impulsive. I didn’t ask if you—I mean, we didn’t use a condom, and I should check—”

  “I’m totally clean,” Joaquim interrupts him. “You don’t have to trust my word. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone. I’ve always been safe and I’ve been tested multiple times.”

  Reid holds in a deep sigh at the very last minute.

  “I’ll admit,” Joaquim slows his speech, “that night was pretty impulsive for me too. That’s not…”

  “Usual?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Reid takes a breath and then another. “Well, I need to say… I need to be careful. We do.”

  Joaquim is quiet as the implication sets in.

  “I didn’t know that Felix was cheating on me. That he wasn’t being careful. I only found out recently. I’ve been tested, but I’m just shy of three months. I mean, they said chances are slim, but I need to tell you that.”

  “Okay,” Joaquim says, and Reid can’t believe it’s that easy.

  “Really?”

  “So we’ll be careful.” Joaquim shrugs. “There’s a lot we can do that doesn’t have to be risky. I don’t care how we’re together.” He hops off the counter and crosses to Reid. He cups Reid’s knees and puts his forehead against Reid’s. “I hope you’ll give me a chance. That you want to be with me too.”

  “I really do.” Reid laces his fingers behind Joaquim’s neck.

  “Reid.” Joaquim pauses, and Reid can sense the weight of words being measured. “I’m honored that you trust me, after what’s been done to you.”

  Reid closes his eyes. He has to, because this is not the time for tears. There’s trust, and then there is trust with his hurting, sensitive self. He swallows and then surges into a kiss. He spreads his knees apart and pulls Joaquim between them. He doesn’t want to think about anything else, not Felix, or how it felt to be betrayed, or how confession leaves him so raw. He wants the heat he tamped down on the beach. He wants Joaquim’s hands and his body; he wants to know Joaquim, and know his body more and more every time they’re together.

  Joaquim puts his hands under Reid’s shirt and bites his lip; he kisses Reid in a dirty way, so different from before. When he pulls at the hem of Reid’s shirt, Reid pushes him back and hops down.

  “Come on,” he says, then shows Joaquim the way to the bedroom. He pulls him onto the bed before Joaquim can turn on the lights. It’s a twin bed, small for them both, which means he gets to keep Joaquim closer. With the curtains drawn, it’s dark enough for safety, and when Joaquim tries to pull his shirt off again, Reid gladly lets him.

  * * *

  The week after the Fourth of July, Shell World is dead slow. Everyone who rushed down for the holiday must either be recovering from the parties or abandoned ship and went back to the mainland. Reid hasn’t seen a customer all day, and he’s resorted to sorting tiny bins of shells into piles of similar color and shape. There’s only so much tiny-shell sorting one can do before becoming cross-eyed and impatient, and, after four hours of boredom, Reid is ready to walk out and find another job just to have something to do. He’s also begun fantasizing about pouring the shells onto the floor and walking on them to hear the crunching noise they’d make.

  The thought crosses his mind that this is all there is to do, which isn’t right. He could do plenty of other things if he wanted to. He could work in a restaurant or a bar. That might be fun; he’d have more people to talk to at least. But Reid gets overstimulated easily. He should learn to get over it. He can’t live his life avoiding things he’s not sure how to cope with. That’s why he’s struggled to hold jobs. Well, that and the other reasons.

  Reid tries not to think about those. Nancy used to tell him that was okay, that he didn’t have to think about them until he was ready. What if I’m never ready? What if I never want to be ready?

  His phone chimes and he pulls it out, ducking behind the register in case Shel comes in. All day, Joaquim has been texting him when he can: sweet things, semi-dirty ones, funny ones. Joaquim is turning out to be a boy of many faces, now that he and Reid have gotten closer.

  Felix: Guess where I am?

  Reid’s stomach falls quickly when he sees it’s not Joaquim, but Felix.

  Felix: Reiiid you really can’t ignore this one, you’re gonna love it!

  Reid rolls his eyes. He’s been semi-successfully ignoring Felix recently. Joaquim plays a large part in that, he’ll admit. It doesn’t seem right to keep talking to his ex when he’s starting something new. And Joaquim makes him so happy; it’s so uncomplicated right now. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that?

  Reid: Where are you?

  He sighs and hits send as the strung shells that serve as door chimes clatter their hollow signal. Reid hates that noise, but figures it’s better than bells.

  “Surprise!”

  Reid drops his phone and jerks back. He hates when people jump out from behind things or come up on him unexpectedly. Worse, it’s Felix. Felix. What? Reid’s heart thumps so hard it takes his breath.

  “What in the actual fuck?” Reid grabs the counter. One night two weeks ago, when searching for any excuse to end a text conversation he let himself get sucked into, he told Felix where he works. Why did I do that?

  “Aw, don’t be like that,” Felix kisses Reid’s cheek over the counter. He doesn’t have time to jerk back, but he wants to. He barely resists wiping the kiss from his cheek. Instead, he bends to retrieve his phone. His hands are shaking.

  “Felix,” he manages. “What—”

  “I thought I’d come see you!” Felix says. His eyes are bright, and he’s vibrating with energy. Anxiety buzzes in Reid’s fingers; it’s hard to tell, with Felix, what’s behind his behavior.

  “You couldn’t have called?”

  “Uh, duh. No. You don’t answer your phone.” Felix taps on the screen, and Reid snatches it away before Felix can grab it.

  “Felix, I’m at work,” Reid says. “I can’t just—”

  “I know!” Felix picks up and puts down impulse-buy items from the counter. “I wanted the code and key to get to your grandma’s condo so I don’t have to wait until you’re done. When are you done?”

  Oh, as if Reid will give him either of those things! He checks his phone. He has two hours to go. “Let me text my friend. Maybe she can come in early.”

  “Sw
eet.” Felix hops up on the counter, and Reid pushes him down.

  “I work here, man. Come on. Try not to break things or get me fired.”

  Felix holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” As he walks away, Reid has a chance to take a breath. Felix’s hair is an even brown. Reid’s never seen its natural color before. He looks good. Healthy. Reid dials Delia and, when she doesn’t answer, texts her.

  Reid: Srsly. SOS. Need help if you can

  She responds within five minutes, during which time Reid watches as Felix systematically searches all the kitschy goods engraved with names for one with Felix on it. He’s messing up all of the stock, but Reid’s too busy freaking out waiting for Delia to respond to intervene again. Felix keeps darting looks in his direction. Reid remembers him looking drawn, with his brown eyes pooled in shadows from sleepless nights. Unlike Reid, whose skin is naturally very light, Felix has always looked washed-out from refusing, for long periods of time, to leave his room in his parents’ basement. If Reid were to measure their moments, how much of his life was wasted there, curled unhappily on Felix’s bed, watching him play video games and keeping himself occupied with dumb cat videos?

  Great, now Joaquim is texting him. He ignores those in favor of Delia’s text.

  Delia: What’s up, how big an emergency?

  Reid: My ex showed up out of nowhere and wants the keys to my condo and I’ve been ignoring his calls for days now and I don’t know what to do can you come take my last two hours?

  Delia: WHAT?!?!

  Reid: Yeah.

  Delia: That’s insane. You didn’t know he was coming?

  Reid: Of course not! Did you miss the part where I’ve been ignoring him?

  Delia: Good point. I’ll be there in 5. You owe me.

  Reid: Anything. Tx.

  “Okay,” Reid says after one long exhale. “My coworker is coming in. We can go home together.”

  “Home?” Reid sees that Felix got his other eyebrow pierced.

  “Yeah,” Reid says. He tries to back down; the defensive edge in his voice will only set Felix on his own defensive spiral. He has to be the calm one. His phone chimes and this time it’s Joaquim, again. Fuck. What should be do?

  His first instinct is to lie, to make up some excuse, or not answer—what he’s been doing with Felix for a while now. But Joaquim lay on the beach with him for hours and let Reid direct the tempo of their night. Joaquim promised to do right by him and looked him in the eye, even when Reid admitted to something that shamed him deeply. Felix lied; Felix put him at risk. But Reid knows he shouldn’t have been with Felix in the first place. All Reid does is backslide. He puts in months of work to get out of bad cycles, only to fall back into them, usually with Felix.

  Delia comes in, in a whirl of black clothing and overbearing perfume. She’s about as happy as ever, which is not very, and gives Felix one long, unimpressed glare.

  “What’s your problem, sweetheart?” Felix isn’t the sort to back down. At Felix’s height, it’s not hard to intimidate. Reid’s seen Felix get out of trouble by simply entering someone’s space.

  “Okay, time to go,” Reid pushes Felix toward the door before there’s bloodshed, because that shit definitely won’t work with Delia. She shakes her head at him when he peers over his shoulder. He’s not sure if it’s because she’s pissed, or if it’s a warning.

  Felix talks nonstop the whole way to the condo. About nothing. It’s all Reid can do to tell him not to shut up. Instead he presses his lips together and lets Felix’s voice wash over him and then off his skin. He tries. His skin crawls and his stomach is in knots. Felix doesn’t know about Joaquim, but Reid knows Felix. He knows what Felix will expect to happen, what always happens.

  Reid shoves his way into the condo, takes his shoes off at the door, and heads straight for the kitchen. He rubs at his temples, where a headache is gathering. The sky over the bay is dark; the tumult of clouds tumbles toward them. The barometer must be dropping. Storms coming in always give him a headache.

  “Take something for it,” Felix says, putting a hand on Reid’s shoulder. He twists out from under the touch. He picks up Felix’s bags and takes them to his grandmother’s room; no way he’s sharing a room.

  “This is where you sleep?” Felix drops onto the bed and bounces.

  “No, I sleep in the other one.”

  “We’re not sharing?” Felix grabs Reid’s hand to tug him closer. Reid tugs his hand back.

  “Felix,” he says on a quiet sigh. He tries to put everything into the word, to will Felix to understand without asking. Reid wants the word alone to carry both kindness and endings. But Felix’s eyebrows knit, and his shoulders set.

  “You always do this, Reid!”

  “I always do this?” Reid’s kindness instantly dissolves. “I didn’t ask you to come! I told you why I left home. I need to get away from…” he bites back the word you before it can leave. It wouldn’t be fair to say it because, although he’s a huge portion of the problem, Felix alone isn’t why Reid’s run away.

  “C’mon, Reid,” Felix says, standing up and stepping closer again. Reid forgot how much taller Felix is, what it felt like to be so tiny in someone else’s hands. Joaquim is taller than Reid too, but Felix is bigger-boned, broader. “You know how this is gonna end. It always does. This wouldn’t hurt as much if you didn’t fight it.”

  Reid stares at him; disbelief courses through his body in cold waves. He stumbles back. His phone rings. It’s the stupid ringtone he picked for Joaquim. Late into the night, long after Joaquim left, Reid kept himself up, curled in the delirious pleasure of having been with someone and not leaving (or being left) ashamed and sick at his own inability to say no. He recalled every moment, and the way Joaquim said his name, urgent and low and slipping around a moan.

  And then, stupidly smitten, he spent thirty minutes picking out a ringtone.

  “Who is that?” Felix’s halfhearted gesture indicates he doesn’t care. Reid narrows his eyes and steps into the hall.

  “Hey,” he says. Damn, his voice is unsteady already.

  “Hey, you,” Joaquim says. The warmth of his tone helps assuage a bit of that cold anger Felix brings out in him.

  “Sorry, something c-came up.” Reid presses his lips together hard and goes into his room. He shuts the door on Felix, who has followed him. His eyelashes are damp. How strange.

  “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Joaquim’s voice goes from warmth to concern so quickly and oh—Why am I crying?

  “I just, um,” he clears his throat, but it’s hopeless.

  “What do you need, Reid, can I come—”

  “No, no,” Reid says quickly. That’ll only make things worse. “It’s…” He does not want to lie to Joaquim, but if Joaquim knows Felix is in his home right now, he’ll either want to come over or ask for explanations Reid doesn’t have. “It’s a Felix thing.” It’s a small truth to settle on. But his breathing is going funny, and Felix has opened the door, wearing the strangest face. “Can I call you later?”

  Joaquim is quiet. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I promise. I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” Joaquim says. He clearly doesn’t believe him, but he accepts Reid’s repeated promise to call him. When Reid hangs up, he has to turn away from Felix. His shoulders are shaking; in fact, his whole body is shaking, worse than at the store when just his hands shook. What is the problem? Sure, he doesn’t want Felix here, and he’s pissed and upset, but Reid knows an overreaction when he sees one, and right now he’s not just seeing it. He’s living it.

  “Who was that?” Felix asks. Reid doesn’t have the wherewithal to figure out his tone.

  “Felix, why are you here?” Reid clenches his hands into fists and faces Felix. “I can’t, I can’t—”

  “Hey, hey, breathe. Reid, breathe, man.” Felix puts his hand between Reid’s shoulder
s, and he can’t pull away because he really does have to try to breathe. Reid puts his head in his hands and breathes, eyes on the carpet. He deciphers the pale gray threads, reads patterns. Once he’s calm enough, he shifts away from Felix’s hand, which is rubbing soothing circles on his back, and wipes his eyes. The heels of his hands come away black.

  “You don’t want me here,” Felix says flatly when Reid can finally meet his eyes. Reid turns and, at the mirror in the bathroom, takes his contact lenses out slowly. He takes his time washing his face, leaving it naked and, when he puts his glasses on, young and vulnerable. He pushes past Felix and straight onto the porch. He doesn’t bother with lights, but sits on one of his grandmother’s hideous wicker armchairs.

  Felix follows, pauses, and sits across from him. There’s only the sound of Reid’s breathing, whistling a little through sinus passages swollen from crying. He becomes aware of the sounds of night and then, last, of Felix’s breathing.

  “Felix,” he starts. He has nothing else to say, no defense against this boy, whose indrawn shoulders make him look young too. This boy who’s finally dropped the bravado, who wears his own vulnerability in his eyes and his hands and feet, which pigeon-toe in, shoelaces untied.

  It’s the shoes that firm Reid’s spine: shoes he’s seen countless times, tripped over in the middle of the night on his way out the door, and re-laced when Felix’s fingers shook too hard to do it himself; shoes Reid bought with him one day when they’d gone on a sudden, pricey, stupid shopping spree; shoes that remind him of the hundreds of reasons this won’t work, and the hundreds of reasons he needs to put a stop to it, for both of them.

  “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not good for me.”

  “For you?” Felix’s eyes go hard. In the dark, they’re the same black-brown as Joaquim’s. But Reid knows every nuance, every line of Felix’s face. Knows how his eyes look like melting chocolate in the sunlight. How bright they are sheened with tears. How his pupils swallow all color when he’s on the verge of orgasm. Reid knows so many sides to this boy. Too many, because that knowledge makes it so much harder to hurt him.