A Tiny Piece of Something Greater

by Jude Sierra

  “For me.” Reid squeezes his hands between his knees and tries to remember everything Nancy’s taught him to say and the scripts he’s written, tries to form his own arguments so that Felix can’t break through them. They are—were—always so entangled, it’s all too easy to get tripped up.

  “What about me?” Felix says softly. “I was on a bus for like thirty hours—”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “But I needed it,” Felix says. “I need you.”

  “I’m sorry, Felix,” Reid says. “I am. But I have to. I can’t take on any more. I have to worry about me first. I have to take care of me.”

  Felix snorts. “When you said that, when you were leaving, I didn’t tell you what a selfish asshole you were being, because I didn’t think you meant it.”

  “But I did,” Reid says. The quieter he gets, the louder Felix argues.

  “I didn’t think you—you were supposed to come home!”

  “I can’t, Felix. I can’t.” Reid doesn’t want to beg, but the part of him that’s inexorably beholden to Felix does. He stands, and Felix stands. “I have to take care of myself. I’ll never get better if I don’t.”

  “Reid, you’re not fooling anyone,” Felix says, stopping him with a hand on his wrist.

  “Who is there to fool?” Reid rolls his eyes. “That’s the best part. No one gets to judge how I’m doing here. No one has to know.”

  “And that’s good for you?” Felix always was fast, and Reid doesn’t see the movement coming, but before he can move away, he’s got a hand up Reid’s shirt, pushing it up to reveal his abdomen and chest. Sucking in a huge breath, Reid pushes him away, hard, and pulls his shirt back down. Felix whispers, “Reid.”

  “Can you go?” Reid said, voice hoarse. He wraps his arms around himself. All of the high ground, all of the stock phrases he’s stored carefully in an emergency cellar—they mean nothing now.

  “Where?” Felix says, raking his hands through his hair. “I have nowhere to go.”

  “I don’t know. A hotel? Until you can go home?”

  Felix turns away.

  “Felix,” Reid says. He has to get him out of there. He has to.

  “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  Last Reid knew, Felix was living with a few roommates in a shitty apartment near the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire campus. The place had always smelled of yeast and unwashed men. Reid’s parents didn’t like Felix around, but Reid always let him in anyway. He hated that apartment.

  “How much trouble are you in, exactly?”

  “None.”

  Reid raises an eyebrow.

  “Okay, just a little. I lost my job. My mom said I couldn’t stay with her again.”

  “You can’t stay here,” Reid says flatly. “I’ll give you money. We’ll figure something out tomorrow. Somewhere for you to go. But you can’t be here.”

  “Reid, baby,” Felix tries.

  “Don’t.” He should sound stronger, but he can’t. “Don’t do that. It’s over, Felix. Really, really over. I’ll help you if you need. But not like that.”

  Felix takes Reid by the wrist again. He wraps his fingers around it as if he is taking Reid’s pulse, the thrumming rush of blood pushed by his scared and rapidly beating heart.

  “Have you found someone else?” Felix asks. It’s not a dare. At least, if it is, it’s Felix daring himself to ask, not Reid to answer.

  “Yeah,” Reid says. He pulls his wrist away. “And I trust him. He won’t hurt me. You and me, Felix, we’re no good for each other.”

  “And if I promised you can trust me now—”

  “I could never believe you again. How do you not get that?”

  Felix finally drops his wrist. He shrugs and turns into the apartment. “Look, I promise I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stay in the other room. I swear. I just… I really don’t want to be alone in a hotel somewhere I don’t know.”

  Reid has fears, and lots of them, but he can name each and every one of Felix’s as well. They push into his chest, and there isn’t room for them all. He can’t do that to Felix; because these fears, they speak loudly and with the weight of history under and over them.

  “Fine.” He goes to the closet and pulls out a towel for Felix. “I have to make a phone call.”

  Felix takes the towel. He steps into the bathroom and closes the door.

  Reid takes a breath and then another. He rubs his eyes under his glasses and thinks, hard, about what he wants, and what’s best for them both, about what it’ll take to make the best of this situation.

  Fifteen

  Joaquim picks up the phone the second it rings, before he’s checked to see that it’s Reid.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Reid says. His voice is steadier than it was before, but lower. Sitting on his bed, Joaquim exhales and bunches the scratchy navy fabric of his blanket with his free hand.

  “Can you talk? Is everything okay?”

  “Um. No.” Reid clears his throat. “I mean, no, everything’s not really okay. But I can talk for a few.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Joaquim, if I asked you for a big favor, could you, um—”

  “Anything,” Joaquim promises immediately. He’s heartened to hear a small laugh.

  “Don’t say that without knowing if someone is about to ask you to stash a dead body, man.”

  “Good point,” Joaquim says. If Reid can joke, surely things aren’t too bad.

  “I… please don’t be mad, okay?”

  “Why would I be mad?”

  “Felix is here,” Reid says, “I didn’t ask him to come; he just showed up.”

  “Okay,” Joaquim says, then adds, to calm him, “It’s okay, Reid.”

  “Could you maybe come over?” Reid says then. “I don’t want to be alone here with him.”

  “Why is he still there?”

  “It’s complicated,” Reid says. Joaquim squints hard at the wall and starts to answer. How complicated can it be after what Felix has done? But he also remembers how often Reid has said that about his relationship with Felix. From what little Reid has told him, it sure seems so.

  “Please. I don’t know how to—”

  “I’ll come,” Joaquim says. He’ll need Bobby to cover for him. Nina will probably lend him her car and if not, he’ll Uber. He’s not sure what Reid needs. Does he need him to help get Felix to leave? Not to be alone? But Reid’s remarkable vulnerability is hard for Joaquim to turn away from. While he’s made himself vulnerable with Joaquim before, it’s always been controlled, in small doses. This isn’t that.

  “Thank you.” Reid breathes. He starts to speak and cuts himself off. The phone is muffled, and then Reid is back. “Text me when you leave?”

  “Okay,” Joaquim says. He’s planning to leave right away, anyway.

  Ten minutes to travel, five to get ready, five to procure a promise from Bobby and a car from Nina, and five to text Reid and ask for the gate code. Twenty-five minutes alone is all it takes, and yet, by the time Joaquim gets there, the composure Reid had on the phone is utterly gone. His eyes are slightly swollen under glasses Joaquim’s never seen; his hair is a mess, and, with his arms tight and defensive around himself, his shoulders look bony. He’s so young, and very real.

  Before he’s crossed the threshold, Joaquim pulls him out into the damp night under the wide open, star-scattered sky and holds him. If he had doubts about what the right moves were, they evaporate when Reid tucks his face into Joaquim’s neck. He keeps his arms around himself; Joaquim holds him tight, thinking that between the two of them, maybe they’ll hold this boy together.

  “I’m sorry,” Reid says into Joaquim’s neck. “This is a little intense, isn’t it?” He doesn’t pull away. Joaquim’s hands support this new shape of Reid’s sp
ine, tight and drawn in a language he hasn’t had time to learn yet. Reid’s breath hitches, once, and he pulls away. He turns away and wipes his eyes with one hand, trying to disguise the action.

  “No, hey,” Joaquim says. He puts a hand on Reid’s arm and slides it down to his elbow. “It’s all right.”

  Reid offers him a watery smile.

  “Does he know I’m here?” Joaquim asks. He’d like to know what he’s getting into.

  “Yes. I have no idea. I don’t know how he’ll be. To you.” The dark hides whatever crosses Reid’s face, and Joaquim thinks that, no matter what, he must find a way to balance whatever harm is being done. No matter what happens, or how vile this man in Reid’s home is, Joaquim must be calm.

  “He’s not violent in any—”

  “No! No. Just difficult.”

  On Joaquim’s worst dive, a married couple got into a huge fight. Neither tried to hide it; their yelling affected all of his divers. Anxiety and discomfort were palpable, and it took every ounce of Joaquim’s composure to keep them together. In the water, many of them fell apart. Partners weren’t communicating. Half his divers damaged the reef in some way. He had to ask the couple not to dive together, if they chose to dive at all, which was excruciating. The wife chose to dive and had fire in her eyes whenever she looked at her husband as she prepared. Joaquim partnered with her. Once in the water, her anger disappeared, replaced by a complete inability to remember basic skills. She panicked halfway into the descent, and nothing Joaquim did could reassure her. He understood how getting back into the boat right after going in must have tasted of defeat. Joaquim didn’t know what went on after that; he had divers to attend to. Leaving her in Claude’s hands, he went down to try to mitigate the damage his other divers were doing to the reef.

  On the way home, the couple seemed to have worked things out. They sat together quietly by the bow with her head on his shoulder, her water-darkened blonde hair a riot in the wind. But the flavor of his divers’ anxieties, of his own failure in holding everyone together, that stayed with him. Later, Tammy told him that he was great. He kept his composure, and that had gone a long way toward helping his divers.

  Joaquim lists all the things he can remember from that day, how he kept calm and didn’t crack. For Reid’s sake, Joaquim will be anything he needs.

  Felix is surprising. Like Reid, he sports piercings and lots of tattoos. His hair is plain brown, drying in tufts; it’s probably lighter when completely dry. Despite the tattoos, and other than his height, he’s unassuming. He’s still wearing his shoes. How rude! Reid is so clean. Everything is always in order. The rudeness is either passive-aggression, defiant anger or inattentive carelessness.

  Joaquim slips his shoes off. Instinct tells him he needs to follow Reid’s lead.

  “Felix, this is Joaquim.” Dispiritedness tinges his voice. Joaquim risks putting a hand between his shoulder blades. Reid doesn’t move away. Felix regards him for a long, assessing moment. Face blank, brown eyes unreadable, posture virtually unchanged, he’s utterly still. Joaquim’s own breathing has slowed to match the moment. Felix reads defensive, but something else too. When his mouth moves with his lips pressed together, Joaquim can see it. Sadness. What did this boy come here expecting from Reid? Surely he had to know this wouldn’t work? Whatever push and pull they were tangled in at home, Joaquim figures that a cross-country trip away and rarely answered calls or texts would all speak for themselves.

  “Hello,” he says eventually.

  “You’re not from here,” Felix says. Joaquim blinks. “You have an accent.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s Brazilian,” Reid says. Felix’s non sequitur must have signaled something, because some of the tension in Reid’s body unravels under Joaquim’s hand. Joaquim moves into the room, but sits on one of the heavy wood stools at the breakfast bar, keeping the dining room table between them, unwilling to sit on a couch. Joaquim isn’t sure of his place until Reid looks at him. His eyes are wide and ask plainly for help. Reid sits next to him and doesn’t miss Felix’s sharp breath. Joaquim was skilled at reading people even before he became a dive instructor. It’s a gift to his profession and it’s only increased with his training.

  “That’s cool,” Felix says, hollow-voiced. His empty eyes follow the movement of Reid taking Joaquim’s hand. The action clearly hurts Felix somehow, but Joaquim isn’t here for this man at all. Regardless of how palpable his emotions are, Joaquim can only focus on what Reid has told him, and the naked truth that this man not only hurt Reid, he also risked his health with lies.

  The air conditioner kicks on. Even from outside its clatter and whir intrude on the silence. Cold air whooshes out of the vents, and Joaquim cannot think of a single thing to say. Reid and Felix stare at each other, speaking in a way Joaquim cannot begin to understand. He’s not meant to and he doesn’t want to. He wants to hold Reid, to hear his history, and to know how to best treat him. Joaquim knows enough, though, to recognize that Reid needs to work this out on his own. Reid’s a grown man. A troubled one, maybe, but nonetheless, Joaquim’s place isn’t to fix things for him. Reid leaving Wisconsin to try to overcome his troubles speaks of strength and character.

  “I’m going to bed,” Felix says. “I hung the towel over the shower curtain; I wasn’t sure where else to put it.”

  “Thank you,” Reid says. Felix doesn’t close the bedroom door with a slam, but with a click that makes Reid wince. “Well, at least there’s the towel,” he says quietly, to himself.

  “The towel?”

  “He knows how I am about, um, keeping things clean.” Reid glances at Joaquim; he nods to keep Reid talking. “When he’s really mad, he makes a mess on purpose.”

  The shoes weren’t an oversight, then.

  “I know it’s weird, the clean thing. Or maybe it seems like it. It’s just a thing that makes me… it helps.” He stops talking and won’t meet Joaquim’s eyes. Joaquim stands. His hands on Reid’s shoulders are meant to calm, to ground, to indicate that he’s here, in this moment with him. The fabric of Reid’s well-worn white undershirt bunches between his fingers. Reid looks down, winding and unwinding the drawstring to his plaid pajama pants around his finger. Reid seems so afraid—as if Joaquim can’t tell that there’s more to say, as if Joaquim might run away.

  “I’m not leaving,” he says. Reid’s eyes widen. He pulls Joaquim forward by his hips and rests his forehead against Joaquim’s sternum.

  “There’s a lot I should tell you. You say you aren’t leaving, but if I did… it’s more than you might think.”

  Joaquim kisses Reid’s head. “And you’re scared?”

  Reid nods. His hair is a waxy mess. Joachim can’t run his fingers through it, so he settles for running a palm over it and then cupping the back of Reid’s neck. “I’m right here. And it’s okay not to tell me anything right now.”

  “Thank you.” Reid looks up. He stands and kisses Joaquim lightly. “For letting me keep you a little longer.”

  What does that mean?

  “Can you stay?” Reid asks. Joaquim shouldn’t, but he can’t say no, not with Reid a barely held together mess of secrets and vulnerability.

  “Yeah.”

  He follows Reid to the bedroom. Reid strips down to his undershirt and underwear. His shorts are striped neon, and, when Joaquim laughs, Reid’s eyebrow does the thing—the I don’t get it thing.

  “I like your underwear.” Joaquim strips down to his boring, unadorned black briefs. Reid shrugs and smiles. He pulls back the blankets, and Joaquim grabs the extra pillow from the other bed. Neither the pillow nor the men fit well on the twin bed, but Reid doesn’t seem to mind the closeness.

  “Tighter,” he whispers when Joaquim spoons him from behind and wraps an arm around his waist. It’s hot, but Reid pulls all the covers over them. “I like the weight,” he says. He’s half asleep, as if something has leeched the fig
ht right out of him. In minutes he’s asleep. Joaquim rearranges the covers so that he’s not sweltering to death but is still holding Reid.

  * * *

  Morning comes very, very early with the slam of a door that startles them both. Joaquim nearly rolls out of bed when his body jerks awake. Only Reid grabbing him keeps him in the bed.

  “What the fuck?” Joaquim groans, covering his face.

  “Felix,” Reid says. His voice is hoarse with lingering sleep. He tucks his face against Joaquim’s back and sighs. “He’s an early riser. And passive-aggressive.”

  It’s enough to make Joaquim light up with amusement, even when his body aches from sleeping so uncomfortably. “Time ‘izt?”

  Reid rolls to reach his phone on the nightstand behind him. Joaquim takes the opportunity to roll onto his back. Reid, having retrieved his phone, snuggles up to him and puts his head on Joaquim’s chest. They both smell a little sweaty. Although Joaquim feels sticky and vaguely gross, he likes it on Reid. He smells like closeness, like familiarity. Joaquim shifts until they’re comfortably plastered together. He likes this too: Reid’s softness laid bare for him.

  “Six-thirty,” Reid says. His sigh is heavy.

  “Fuck, I have to go soon.” Joaquim makes no move to leave. “It’s probably a good thing he’s being an ass, because I forgot to set an alarm.”

  “You have to work today, huh?” Reid’s palm is flat on Joaquim’s stomach, as if to keep him there.

  “Class. You gonna be okay?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll have more time for each other soon enough, right?” Reid says. Joaquim hums. He’s not through with his internship until September. “Do you need to shower before you go?”

  “Do you mind?”

  Reid sits up. His hair is a riot, and his eyes are a little puffy, but his smile is sweet. “Not at all. I’ll get you a towel.” He locates his glasses on the floor. “I must have knocked them off while we were sleeping.”