To Build a Home

29 | The Morning After

I imagined myself as a bird, flying over the back of the property where a large expanse of grass was carved out in the center of miles of trees, swooping down to see two naked bodies in the window of an otherwise empty cottage, glistening with sweat under a chandelier. I wondered if the bird would be able to tell by the way we explored each other's skin with our hands and our mouths late into the night, frantically searching and colliding, that our bodies were foreign to each other. Would the bird know from the way we didn't look away––even when it hurt to see his perfection carved out like a marble statue or the strangeness of my body reflected in his eyes––all that had been between us before that moment, the years and the pain and the miles and the what-ifs?

Darren fumbled his way around me, nervous and curious and shy. He was happy to let me guide him, my hand on his hand on my skin, our fingers intertwined, figure skating along the hills and valleys of my nakedness. I placed his hands between my legs and told him to hold me. He did as I asked and said my name, a deep, breathy whisper in my ear that rippled through the rest of me. We kissed until we were out of breath and then used our lips to trace where our hands had been. The sky began to change color when we finally collapsed on the floor and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

In the morning, I refused to open my eyes as Darren began to stir. I could feel the warm sun rising in the window behind us. I remained frozen, scared that it had been a trick of the alcohol or the cottage in the moonlight or maybe the adrenaline from thinking I was lost or hurt. If I kept my eyes closed and stayed still, the perfect memory of the night before, only a few hours ago, wouldn't be over yet and he wouldn't be able to regret what we did or tell me he can't do it again. So I didn't move.

Then I thought of Phil. I couldn't help it. How would my brother feel about Darren and me together? The fact that that was even a sentence––Darren and me together––blew my mind. I wanted to believe that Phil would have been happy for us, that after he left we were able to find some kind of happiness. And he was, in some part, responsible. But there was also a part of me that reverted back to my teen years, rewound the memories and looked at them from his point of view. How would he have felt knowing his brother and his best friend––all of the important people in his life––were gay? I wished I could have asked him.

Then I had another thought. What if it was only a one-night stand for Darren? He just wanted to see what it was like on the other side and now that he had a taste, he decided he'd rather be with women. Or, worse, what if he continued to sleep with men, but not me? I was going crazy, my mind traveling a million miles per minute. Then Darren kissed my shoulder and pushed into me from behind, his arm squeezing me tighter.

"You talk in your sleep," he said, more a raspy whisper than anything.

"No, I don't," I laughed, finally opening my eyes, all of my worries evaporated with one whisper. I contracted into him.

"You said my name," he said. He imitated my voice, sexy and sleepy. "Darren. Darren. Darren."

I flipped over to face him, still wrapped in his arm. "Liar!" He kissed me before I could even finish yelling at him. I draped my arm over his torso and then squeezed his cheeks. He didn't even stop kissing me to laugh.

Then there was a buzzing sound coming from his jeans as we kissed. Darren suddenly shot up from our spot on the floor and struggled to pull his phone out of the denim pocket. He stood up and answered, "Hello?" and then, "Hi, Linda." It was Noah's grandmother. He paced the nook back and forth completely naked. I watched as he apologized for not checking in last night or this morning. It sounded like everything was fine, she was just worried when she hadn't heard from him.

When he hung up and returned to me, ready for more morning kisses, I backed away. "Should we talk about this?" I asked. I couldn't stop running scenarios through my head––Darren leaving without saying a word, never being able to kiss him again. He laid on his side while I sat on my heels, looking down at him. "How this will affect Noah? Because if this is something you can't..."