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I feel like I'm being buried again. The dirt is creeping into impossible places and making mud in my eyes and mouth and nose. Foley is gone. Not dead, but still gone. I want to be happy for him, so happy, it's what he deserves. Maybe he'll even find a boyfriend. That thought stirs an emotion that I've never felt, that I can't quite put my finger on.
Whatever. I shake it off and keep walking, headed toward the back of the grocery store to clock out.
All of Foley's loaned CDs may have been burned in the fire but I memorized the music and got myself an MP3 to download every riff and thrash and scream. I popped in my earbuds and the familiar, comforting, safe sound of Vorvolakas started up and made me smile.
My little apartment isn't the best and it always smells like motor oil and cigarettes, but the smell eases my mind now. The cigarette smell used to come only from the handymen below but now I contribute, and if my mom was alive, she'd probably smack me.
I started in the direction of the shower and shucked my layers one by one, grabbing a cigarette and my lighter on the way. A smoke in the shower is the perfect way to relax if I say so myself.
I had barely wrapped the towel around my waist when someone knocked, a timid and almost hesitant rapping.
“Just a minute" I called, shuffling wildy through my dirty laundry for something that held any semblance of cleanliness. I picked up a shirt and almost dropped it, recognizing it as the one I wore home from Foley's house, smiling (albeit, a little sadly) at the memory, sliding it on and throwing dirty sweatpants on.
I went to the door and swung it open, about to offer a greeting and choking instead. It was Foley. The guy whose heart I broke. I didn't just break it, no, I smashed it into little fragments like a shattered bone.
I stood wide-eyed and open mouthed, my brain grasping at something to say. What could I even say? How could I explain what I did?
“Joey?" He questioned, and my mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water in the dry air.
He started to turn and leave when I didn't respond but I took him by the shoulder and turned him around.
“Yeah, it's me."
He looked at me and flushed and looked away, and I did the same, and we did this for a few minutes, like a dance.
I finally spoke up.
“Do you want to come in?"
He grinned shyly, “Yeah.”
I took him by the hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world and led him into my apartment and into the small kitchen.
“Sorry everything's a wreck, I wasn't really expecting company."
“Oh...I can leave if you want me to?”
" NO!” I said, a little too loudly.
He smiled warmly and I felt his fingers twine through mine, just like that day at the movies.
I looked at our hands and felt a wave of emotions, sorrow, regret, hope, euphoria, and something...else. Kind of like how I felt earlier but different.
“Do you want something to drink? I have Kool-Aid, a couple different kinds of soda, and some bottled water I think.”
"What kind of Kool-Aid?"
“Green apple."
He nodded thoughtfully then looked up, “Fuck yeah."
I smiled ear to ear and headed towards the fridge and then the cabinet and poured two glasses for us, never dropping his hand. Silently I gave him his glass and he said a small 'thank you’ as I led him to my living room.
“I only have one couch so I hope that's okay?"
"That's fine, Crotch.”
I tried to hold in my laughter but my shaking shoulders gave me away and when we made eye contact we both started belly laughing at the stupid nickname Woody had given me.
We settled on the couch facing each other, and my breath caught in my throat. I had never realized how beautiful he was. He looked at me head-on and we locked into a little staring contest and I didn't even realize I was leaning forward until our foreheads bumped.
We giggled but neither of us pulled back and I shut my eyes, specifying this moment so I would never forget.
Foley's heartbeat in his hand
His hands are warmer than normal
His soft breaths over my lips
The smell of his shampoo
The feel of our knees pressed together
My head was swimming from the tenderness I felt and I could only hope he felt it too.
Soft pressure over my lips made my lids creep open a little to see Foley's face, eyes shut and brows tensed, like he thought he might mess up.
I pressed into his mouth and when we split, our foreheads came together again and we stared into each other's eyes, wide and illuminated by the setting sun coming through my yellowed blinds.
“I love you," I blurted. “Shit," I whispered. I pulled back and started on a tangent hurriedly, trying to explain myself.
“Foley I'm so sorry if that was too fast, I haven't stopped thinking about you since we saw that stupid movie, and I remember exactly how it felt holding your hand, and how awful I felt knowing that I was the reason you were crying, and honestly I really liked you and still do, I was just really deep in the closet and only a few months ago realized I'm bi and that I'm in love with you, and-”
He had put his glass down and set a gentle hand on my cheek.
“I understand. I know. I love you too, Joey." He pressed a soft kiss to my lips and took my glass from me, setting it beside his, and gently tugged my head toward his chest. I tucked my head into his neck and snaked my arms around him, wanting to hold him as close as possible and never let go.
He threaded one hand through my hair and rubbed the other up and down my back.
“That night at the movies, when you told me you robbed graves, I thought you were fucking with me. Then that thing with Woody and Celeste and Gottschalk happened, and it all made sense. The smell, the vague excuses, the disappearance. You disappearing still hurt, I won't lie, but I understand. And I love you. And I support you. If that's what you want to do, I'll be by your side no matter what, and I'll love you the whole way.”
I sniffled. I didn't realize I was crying. I tried to reply but it came out broken and muffled around his shoulder and a sob.
“What'd you say, angel?"
I leaned back and sniffled again, placing my hands on his knees to steady myself.
“I'm so sorry. About disappearing, about breaking your finger, about rejecting you, everything, I'm so fucking sorry-”
The words wouldn't come out. A pitiful, horrible, ugly sob came out instead, wracking my body forward like I was vomiting. Foley gently caught me in his arms and rocked me back and forth, shushing quietly and whispering things I couldn't catch.
Wordlessly he stood and guided me up, asking if I wanted to lay down, and taking his coat and shoes off so we could crawl into bed comfortably.
The moon shone through the window beside my bed now, instead of the sun, and that was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep, tucked into Foley's side and feeling the safest I have in a long time.