To Make Love With Your Eyes Closed Page 6

  Mumford & Sons ‘Reminder’ comes on through the speakers. It sounds a lot louder than the previous song. I get lost in it for a second. It’s such a beautiful song.

  “Yeah I’d love that.” I say with a smile.

  “You still haven’t shown me any of your recent art.”

  I laugh.

  “There’s really not much to show, haha, I’m sorry, my art usually is based on what I’m going through at the time and umm, well, not a lot of exciting things have been happening lately!”

  “Well that’s no good, you should really find a way to keep yourself on your toes.”

  I smile, that was pretty cute.

  “Yeah I know,” I look away and watch the bartender shift up and down the bar between the drinks and the customers for a moment. “Maybe I should go somewhere new, do something different.” I look back at Duncan. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve outgrown this city you know?”

  Duncan takes a quick drink and puts his pint down.

  “You’re talking to the right person anyway, it’s exactly what I want to do.”

  In this conversation I feel like a platonic friend, I don’t feel like I’m worth staying for, to him anyway. It doesn’t make me feel great but I tell myself how stupid I must be to be so obsessive over this man’s life.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where would you go though?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s about going somewhere new, it’s more about rediscovering who I am, maybe go back to my roots.”

  “So… London?”

  “Yeah, I think, well, this is all just talk, I don’t think I’ll actually do it haha, I can’t leave the life I have right now behind.”

  He nods and takes another drink. Theres silence for just a few precious seconds then he begins to talk again.

  “You’re scared of leaving your comfort zone.”

  That’s rich coming from him.

  “Yeah, I guess, I like being safe…”

  “You know that safe isn’t always a good thing though.”

  Our food is placed before us, signalled by the middle aged waitress missing a few teeth. I ordered a salad, I don’t like to eat junk food on dates, if that is indeed what this is. Duncan has ordered calamari. He eats slowly and I seem to have a habit of inhaling my food. I can see him laughing at me with his eyes as he chews down on his meal. I smile at him. He’s so beautiful. He makes me happy. I can see myself marrying a man like him someday.

  After dinner we both head outside and light up a cigarette each. It feels so good. I stare out across the busy road and the deep, and heavy rain. It’s eight thirty but the sky is not as dark as it could be.

  “Thanks for tonight,” he says. He looks at the ground nervously and fidgets with his elbow. It’s cute.

  “No, thank you, I had a really good time, I wish we did this more often.”

  “Me too, well, we can, if you want, from now on, if you want, that is, no pressure.”

  He looks up at me and I laugh. He smiles then laughs nervously too. I push myself in close with him and press my lips against his. Our kiss is delicate, and beautiful, it feels raw and vulnerable. This kiss feels like I’m just skimming the circle of getting to know him, despite the amount of times we have met up and done this before. I am so convinced that he’s the man for me and that I could never do any better.

  Duncan and I walk away in separate directions. I decide to take a cab after a few minutes. I’m absolutely drenched. I feel my heart and soul warm and happy for the first time in a long time. And now that he has convinced me he’s ready to see me regularly I allow myself to feel comfortable in my happiness.

  I go to bed very happy that night, that is, until my head hits the pillow and my eyes close. Suddenly I see your face. You have your arms wrapped around a girl and you’re looking at me like you’ve won some kind of a game. I envision myself leaping into the arms of Duncan and looking back at you but you’ve already walked away. I look back at Duncan and feel happy again. It’s a fucked up vision.

  How is it possible to like two different people this much?

  10

  I’m working the night shift tonight which is very unusual. I think that Aaron must have decided me having all of the AM shifts wasn’t working well for him and decided that putting you on in the mornings alone was a better deal. I don’t mind.

  For the first time in a long time I manage to get a nice sleep in. It’s pretty hot this afternoon. As I sit down on the bus I have to take my rain jacket off because I am toasting. I know it isn’t going to last all day so I decided to bring my jacket as oppose to leaving it at home. It will come in handy later. I come in through the front door. You’re there, but you’re busy dealing with a customer. I wave hello to Byron in the corner and push on into the staff room. It feels like it’s been a while since the two of us were together like this. Maybe it has been, maybe it hasn’t, I don’t know. I try not to look at you, but even knowing we are in the same building together tugs on my stomach and makes me want to throw up from the butterfly’s, the evil ones. I come out onto the deck and I feel my whole body lose control of itself. I must look like a right fucking plank. You could probably have taken one look at me and seen how much of a mess I am. You look at me, like you’ve completely forgotten about the other day. You’re not embarrassed, you’re not ashamed and you’re not afraid, you’re… normal. I don’t understand. Shouldn’t you be afraid of me? Not quite sure why you should be, but naturally, it would just be the common way to go wouldn’t it? There’s a pretty girl leaning over the end of the bar. She has long, blonde hair, nice tits and bright blue eyes. She’s pretty stunning. Then it hit me.

  “Oh shit,” I think to myself, “that must be her.”

  And I’m not wrong. I look at her, she can tell I’m trying to figure out who she is. She waves and takes a couple of steps over. You watch the pair of us intensively, as if monitoring my reaction. I concentrate on not looking like a complete fucking wanker.

  “Grace,” she says, extending an arm.

  I shake her hand.

  “Gerry.”

  “Ahh,” she says, “like P.S. I Love You.” She clicks and points right at me, with a wink.

  I laugh.

  “Yer, I get that a lot.”

  You walk right past me. It just hits me that you haven’t really said anything to me the whole time that I’ve been here. You throw away your apron and cross the side of the bar. Wrapping your arm around her and kissing her on the forehead. The pair of you are looking at me, with the eyes of Satan himself. I feel something really really painful split down the middle inside of me. I don’t know what it is and I don’t know why it hurts but it feels like it’s killing me. I study her beautiful face. She’s flawless, she’s skinny, she has huge boobs, blonde hair, blue eyes… and she’s a girl. I immediately feel insecure in myself. Why can’t I be that? Why can’t I be what you want? Oh right, yeah, that’s because you’re not gay. I get really angry at myself, and at God. Fuck God. The pair of you leave through the front door, giggling and happy. I am in the worst mood. I don’t even knock on the office door to let Aaron know I’m here, I just storm out the back alleyway and strike up a cigarette. If I wasn’t such an angry son of a bitch all the time maybe I would have the ability to cry right now, that’s how much it hurts. After I’m done being angry at God for making me a man who want’s a type of thing he can never have I get angry at myself for this. Why am I interested in a straight man? Doesn’t sanity tell you that you don’t go down that road? Doesn’t common sense tell you that if you develop those feelings any further that you’re going to cause yourself a lot of pain? Who gives a shit. How are we really in control of our own feelings. Life is so unfair.

  I flip out my phone. There’s no messages on there. Duncan hasn’t messaged me today. Not that I expect him to, I don’t really think he cares about me.

  I pull up a new iMessage draft and select his name from the list, I type out a “hi :-) thanks for last night, how are you?” but then delete it. I
may not be the best human being in the world right now but at least I know when not to use one person to get over another.

  I wish that I could open up to Rory or Tripp about how I’m feeling but I know that they will never understand, not in a million years.

  I suddenly feel very isolated. I take a big puff of the cigarette and groan loudly down the road. There’s a fat, dirty old man taking out the trash who stops what he’s doing to give me the dirty eye. I nod to him and turn back to what I’m doing. I stamp out the cigarette and go back inside.

  I’m not gone for long but suddenly I now feel calmer. I instantly regret leaving without telling Aaron. I enter cautiously, in case he knows, I’m sure he knows, he always watches those cameras. But when I return to the bar I realise he hasn’t. I wipe the desk down a bit, roll some cutlery then head over to sit with Byron.

  “Hello,” I say, plopping down on the chair next to him.

  “Oh, hi,” he says with effort.

  “How are you today?”

  “Not too bad, thanks, how are you?”

  “I’m OK, I’ve been better,”

  “Oh, that’s not good, what’s wrong?”

  “Hmm…” I pause for a moment, I’m not going to dump my problems all over him like birdshit but I do want to express how bad I feel to at least one person in this world. “Just people getting me down.”

  “Oh no, that’s not good, don’t let people get you down.”

  I smile. It’s nice that he doesn’t have to give me anything other than basic life advice to make me feel better.

  “I know, but it’s hard sometimes.”

  “I know what you mean, but, this life is yours, it’s your journey, no one else’s.”

  I don’t really know how this applies to my problem right now but I thank him for his caring words anyway. We say goodbye. He always makes me feel better just by being him.

  Aaron leaves the office after about an hour. I don’t see much of him these days.

  “Hey,” I say masking my contempt for life with a facade of glee.

  “Hello. How are you?” He always sounds the same no matter what mood he’s in, good management skills I guess.

  “Yer, good, you?”

  “Good,” he says grabbing his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m not in tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” he says, already half way out the door, “I’ll see you when I see you.”

  He really rushed out the door today. I feel like no on really has time for these days. It sucks when you’re in pain and no one knows. and it feels like you are completely isolated.

  Around six o’clock an army of five rowdy stereotypical Irish men loudly make their way to the bar. They’re pushing each other around, having a laugh. I serve them and watch them sit down together in the back area. As I finish watching them I turn back around. Another man and a lady are standing there. He is tall, dark haired, with a rough beard, and she is short, she’s a little tanned but her hair is a platinum blonde. She reminds me of Grace. I immediately don’t like her, I don’t know why. I almost have to laugh at myself for being so petty. I am fairly rude when I go to serve them. I think they pick up on it because they don’t return to buy any more drinks from me for the rest of the night.

  I look at her from the bar. She’s so pretty, and skinny, and she looks so happy with him. Fuck her. I hate her.

  I turn and walk into the staff room and for the first time in what feels like forever, I start to cry. At first I feel like my eyes are really dry and sore and I bleed a few tears, then I lose control over my breathing and there’s a monsoon rushing down my cheeks. I wipe them all away. I let myself get it out of my system for a few minutes before washing my face and returning to the bar. The couple leave soon. I cheer myself up by looking at a picture of Duncan. It doesn’t matter because I have him, he’s the Grace to my Thomas, or the Thomas to my Grace.

  As soon as I start to smile again my phone vibrates. I quickly whip it out and it’s him. With a grin and dry eyes I swipe across the screen.

  “Hey :-)” the text reads, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day… I was wondering what you’re up to after work.”

  I don’t really even care if this is the initiation of a booty call I’m just happy to feel wanted by someone.

  “I’m not up to anything really, but I probably won’t be out of here until around 11/11:30 if that’s alright with you?”

  He responds quite quickly.

  “All good with me, just happy to see you. Just come over whenever you’re finished.”

  “Awesome, will do.”

  “Sweet, text me when you leave, cheers.”

  I send back the thumbs up emoticon.

  I have completely forgotten about the fungus on my heart that is you, and I’m feeling satisfied again.

  The rest of my shift goes pretty fast now that I’m in a better mood. I almost hum to myself as I stack up the stools on the bar and do a last minute sweep.

  As I hop into a taxi I let Duncan know I’m en route. He doesn’t text back, but it’s cool, whatever.

  I rock up on his doorstep and he gives me a kiss that makes my knees go weak and makes me a little excited. He welcomes me inside. I’m kind of nervous, I’ve had a roller coaster of emotions this afternoon, I’m not sure if sex will be the best way to add a cherry to the top of the cake, so to speak. But, I did agree to come here on these terms so if that is indeed what ends up happening I guess I agreed to it. I look into his eyes and they are bloodshot. The whole front of the house smells like weed. I walk through the dim hallway, following him close behind. The kitchen and lounge room are lit up, the TV is on.

  “How was work?” He asks.

  “Yeah, good.” I say looking around. “Weed, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he says with a laugh. He pushes the bowl forward. “Want some?”

  I look into the bowl and am suddenly reminded of the old me. I push the bowl away.

  “Nah, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself,” he says before loading up another hit into the cone piece. I watch him do it, he looks so sexy, as if that’s a normal thing to say about someone cutting up illegal drugs haha.

  I pull it back. “Changed my mind.”

  He smiles.

  I load up the cone piece. Light up the bong and get going. It hits me right away. I cough a little and my eyes immediately shrink.

  “That is some good shit.” I squeak.

  He laughs, and then I do. He takes the bong back and has some more. I don’t usually tend to have laughing fits when I get high. Maybe it depends on who you’re with. After ten minutes Duncan throws a couple of bags of popcorn into the microwave and asks me if I want to watch a movie. I’m not horny now, so I hope he legitimately does want to watch a movie.

  “Sure, whatcha got?”

  He opens up the cabinet below the television and the first thing that falls out is the second Star Wars film, Attack Of The Clones. He looks at me. I shrug and say, “whatever,” and before I know it we are cuddling on the couch as the yellow writing flies up the screen.

  I’m so happy in this moment, it’s beautiful. I look at Duncan, how lucky I am to be blessed with such an angel. I worry that he can read my mind because he looks down at me and kisses me. His arms are wrapped around me and I feel safe.

  We don’t do anything while we are sitting on the couch together. But at the same time, it’s late and the marijuana has me so tired that I will never be able to get back to my own place safe.

  Duncan turns off the TV after the credits roll and kisses me. It makes me feel divine. He stands up and leads me back to the bedroom, slowly, and closes the door behind us. I start to change my mind about the whole not-being-horny thing. I am so happy.

  11

  When I return to work in the following days I am reunited with you. At first I am excited. I can’t wait to see your face, it brings me such a good feeling. But then I am irritated, because, you annoy me. You’re existence confuses and hurts my soul. I w
alk into the pub and as I push through the door you look at me and I at you. There is a connection that zaps through the air from both of our eyes. It’s like you know that I’ve been with someone else and enjoyed it and I know that you were with her and that you enjoyed it too.

  Somehow we both just, know.

  A crash of thunder, that’s what you are. An unwelcome feeling of sanctuary and pain at the same time. You look at me with anger. Like I have somehow done you wrong, but I can tell that you’re feeling conflicted because it was you that pushed me away. Maybe I’m insane. Maybe you’re looking at me like I’m a twat, or maybe it’s true, maybe we are somehow connected in a way that transcends our genders.

  How did I learn to like you so much, so fast, it was only a kiss. Just a gentle tickle, like the frolic of the waves on the shore whilst the sea rages in the distance.

  I suddenly have visions of you undressing her and making love to her before you hold her tight and tell her you love her so. My stomach feels sick and something inside of me feels like its dying but it’s not, it’s just burning a punishing flame that is yet to cease. I imagine that this is how it feels when gravity forces the things that go up, to come back down again. There’s a really awkward sense of tension in the air. I have no idea where it came from. The last time I saw you, you were ridiculously nonchalant.

  I quickly set myself up for the day ahead. You and I discuss our days away from work and what we’ve been up to. You seem to be cautious about using the word girlfriend, and even her name. Maybe I’m being obsessive, or maybe I’m being observant. Talk about her, I don’t care, she exists. Because you’re not gay and you don’t actually like me remember? Well, that’s what you say, but the way you look at me tells a different story friend. You kissed me, and you can probably guess that it had an effect on me. No kind of man plays with someones feelings that much, no straight man takes that much of an enjoyment out of playing with a gay mans head. I think deep down you do really like me and that you’re just confused to the bone.

  It crosses my mind how thoroughly aware you must be of the chokehold you have over me. I hate the fact that you stand and stare at me but I also tiptoe around the thought of you destroying me with a single line. All it could take is ten seconds and you could leave me a pathetic and borderline suicidal mess on the floor. But you don’t, and that slides me away from any thin sense of contempt I feel against you and your games.