We drove back almost the same way I’d come, but at some point, I must have been distracted while looking out of the window because suddenly I realized we were at a beach. Not just any beach, though. We were at Fonte da Telha, our beach, the place we’d spent so much time as teenagers and the backdrop of our first kiss.
I couldn’t utter a single word when I looked at David, my mouth opening and closing as if I were a fish. David chuckled and said, "Come on, Nemo, we need to talk, and I’m hungry. There’s a snack bar here that does the bestbifanayou’ll ever have."
At that prospect, I got out of the car quickly, my mouth watering. It had been years since I had the Portuguese specialty that was a pork steak sandwich.
David paid for our sandwiches and cold drinks, and we brought them back to the car. We were parked under the shade of a tree, so with the top of the car down, it was the perfect way to enjoy our lunch. It had been a long morning, so we ate in silence, just watching the lulling of the waves on the sand.
"I’m sorry," I said, breaking the silence.
"What? What are you sorry for?" he asked.
"For making a move on you, for weirding out afterward. I...um... when you sucked my finger... I thought..." Jesus, it was like I lost the ability for coherent speech. "I’m sorry I left so quickly. We should have talked about it, but I guess I felt..." My voice trailed off and my sentence went unfinished. I was looking ahead at the ocean, lacking the courage to look at David. How could I say I felt rejected by him and it had hurt more than I thought it should?
"Joel, look at me," he said, putting his warm hand on my forearm. "We are consenting adults. It happened, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I am sorry I stopped it, and I am sorry I said I didn’t mean to kiss you." He said it in such a relaxed manner as though it really wasn’t a big deal that we kissed. Maybe it hadn’t affected him in the same way as it had me. I could feel the disappointment building in the pit of my stomach.
"Oh...okay...yeah, no big deal," I muttered.
I could have left the conversation there, but I needed to know if he was gay. I don’t know why that made a difference to me, lots of guys experimented with other guys, but David was different. Or maybe my feelings toward him were different because of who he was. Gathering the necessary courage, I looked out of the window toward the people walking past and asked, "Are you gay?"
I must have been too quiet because David asked me to repeat the question. Looking back at him but closing my eyes as I spoke, I asked once more, "David, are you gay?"
David sighed and let out a big breath. Hell, what did that mean?
"I am," he said, looking out toward the ocean.
"But you’re not out," I said, phrasing it as a statement more than a question.
"No. No, I’m not," David said with finality, and because I was a sucker for punishment, I had to push through for more.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Some of us can’t afford to be out as gay, play house, and live our happy lives as if it’s all okay," David said with some anger mixed with a hint of sadness. I wasn’t sure if I should press for more, but I wanted to let him know it was okay to feel whatever he was feeling. I wanted him to know he could open up to me if and whenever he was ready.
I turned my body to him and held his face, one hand on each cheek. I hoped to convey my feelings without having to use words because I wasn’t sure I knew what to say. He was crying when he looked up at me. His dark brown eyes were shiny with tears, and he looked exhausted. No, he looked defeated, and I didn’t know what to do.
"David."
He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin and his mouth was mere inches from mine. Without closing his eyes or breaking eye contact, he kissed me. Even though I was the one holding him, he planted a soft kiss, and then another one, and then he kissed the corner of my mouth, his eyes still on mine. As my lips parted, I let out a moan, and I felt his tongue across my upper lip. I closed my eyes, letting go and leaning into David, deepening the kiss, tasting the salt of his tears. His hands gripped my shirt to keep me close. Fuck, I needed to stop this, or I’d be coming in my pants very soon.
I pulled out of the kiss breathless, our foreheads touching, and my eyes still closed. "Do you want to tell me?"
David leaned back into his seat, let out a tired breath, and started talking. I held his hand and rubbed circles on his wrist in soothing encouragement.
"My friend Isaac came out to his parents when he was seventeen. I remember him telling me he was going to do it. He got along with his parents so well that he was sure they would be okay with it. They weren’t. In fact, they kicked him out of the house that same night. He came to stay with me. He was so upset. His world had shattered because the parents he was so sure loved him unconditionally had just basically decided he wasn't their son anymore just because he liked boys." David stopped for a moment as though he was considering what to say next, so I nodded for him to continue.
"He was telling me what had happened when my uncle came to the apartment. He used to have the keys to check up on me when I was younger, but I was eighteen then. He found us sitting together on the sofa. I was comforting Isaac, but my uncle thought it was something else and lost it."
"David, what’s going on?"Uncle Mário had shouted, his face beet red with anger.
Isaac jumped back and landed on the other end of the sofa.
"Uncle Mário, it’s not—"I tried to explain but was interrupted.
"Shut up! Is this what you do to your family, you little faggot? We look after you, and you behave in this way? What will your aunt think?"
I’d never seen my uncle display such an extreme reaction, and it scared me. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt me such was the extent of his rage.
"And you,"he’d said turning to Isaac,"You leave this house and do not come back, or I will make you regret it."He grabbed hold of Isaac by the shirt and dragged him out the door.
