Here the Whole Time(58)

9:36 p.m.

“My fear isn’t about you, or the two of us,” Caio starts. “The truth is, I’m not ready to come out of the closet. Not at school, and much less at home. I see people telling stories about how important that was to them, but I can’t see how doing so could be a good thing for me. Coming out to my family would be the worst decision of all time. My mom isn’t like yours. That’s why I ran away at the coffee shop. Those three guys from school aren’t mean to me. They’re just my classmates, that’s all. But if they saw me with you, word could get around. And I don’t want you to think that I want to hide—or to hide you. I just don’t feel … ready,” he says all at once.

I feel the weight of his words on my shoulders. The weight of everyone being full of problems.

9:37 p.m.

“I’m not ready, either. For a bunch of stuff,” I say, thinking back to last night. “I’m sorry that I thought what was happening was about me. It’s hard to believe someone can really like you when you spend your entire life hearing that you’re nothing but a disgusting fat guy.”

“It’s hard to believe you can really be happy with someone when you spend your entire life hearing that being gay is wrong and your fate is to burn in hell,” Caio admits, his breathing irregular.

The sadness in his voice hits me hard.

“People are wrong. You can be happy,” I say.

9:38 p.m.

“They’re wrong about you, too. You are not disgusting.”

I let a smirk escape, one that signifies, “Yeah, right.” It’s my automatic reaction. Caio stands up, and I’m led to believe he’s given up on the five-minute game—that he’s given up on me.

But he only walks to the other side of the room, rips Eddie’s drawing of me in a Batman costume from the wall, and places it on my lap.

“Don’t forget that there are people who see this when they look at you.”

9:39 p.m.

I fall silent, looking at the drawing. I notice every stroke, every instance where the colored pencil went outside the lines … every detail of this image that makes me a superhero.

“I want to help you,” I say. “If you feel afraid of being who you really are. If you question your parents’ love. If you doubt what you really can do. I want to help you go through it all. Please, lean on me.”

“I already am. Even after the fifteen days are done. Even when I go back to apartment 57. I want to be with you. You are beautiful.”

9:40 p.m.

The five minutes are up, and I don’t know how to react. My mouth is hanging open, and Caio takes advantage of it and kisses me. A soft, sweet, delicate kiss this time.

“Believe me when I say …”

Another kiss.

“That you are amazing …”

And another.

“Your hair smells great …”

Another.

“And I like the little dimple at the end of your nose …”

A confused laugh.

And then another kiss.

“You are beautiful, Felipe. You really, truly are.”

Suddenly, it seems like I’ve heard enough, because there are no more pauses between each kiss. We lie in bed, and I feel my body go hot.

When Caio puts his hands on my hips, my instincts tell me to shrink away and escape. But I don’t do that. Because this time I don’t feel ashamed. I don’t feel like a disgusting fat guy who doesn’t deserve to be touched.

I feel beautiful.

And when Caio touches me, there’s no aversion in his touch. Unlike all the times I’ve been shoved, pinched, and teased, Caio’s touch makes me feel good. When I lie on my side so he can hug me and fit his body into mine, I don’t worry about whether my belly droops.

I feel a cold tingle when he runs his hand down my shirt, and I realize that I might not be totally ready. But I feel better when I notice that the lights are on, and he can see every detail of my skin. And I don’t mind.

I feel comfortable here, and that’s when I decide to enjoy his body, too. My hands, paralyzed on his shoulders up until now, slide down his arms. I caress his hips and start to discover every detail of his body, little by little. He notices how curious I am and lies still for a time, granting me permission to explore. Caio’s skin is hot, and I feel his heavy breathing when I run my hand over his chest.

“You are beautiful, too,” I say in a whisper.

And when he runs his hand along my face to give me another kiss, it occurs to me that if the word beautiful had a million different meanings …

Caio would be all of them.





LAST CHRISTMAS, MY MOM AND I went to the beach and stayed at a fancy hotel. I don’t know much about hotels, but to me, if it has an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, it’s fancy.

I have a vivid memory of a nap I took at that hotel. More specifically, I remember a dream in which a phone kept ringing and ringing, and when I finally picked up, no one answered. And it just kept on ringing forever. I tried ripping out the cord, throwing the receiver against the wall, but it simply wouldn’t stop.

That dream could probably be a wonderful metaphor about how I deal with my problems in real life, but in the end, it was just the hotel room phone that was actually ringing, and the noise invaded my sleep.

Today the same thing happened. But it’s not a phone that’s blaring.