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Eric’s head was pillowed on Aaron’s chest as they lay together in post-coital bliss, listening to the rain against the windows of Aaron’s swanky D.C. loft apartment. Their hands were clasped together, idly playing thumb war as they shared embarrassing stories of their childhoods and awkward teen years.
“I think I was…seven, maybe,” Aaron recalled. “My mother had made those atrocious salmon patties for dinner one night, and I ended up getting really sick from them. Vomiting, diarrhea, the whole nine yards. Even though I was sick, my mother made me get up and go to church the next morning. The whole service, I was sitting there trying not to squirm because of how much my stomach hurt.”
Eric let Aaron’s thumb capture his as he turned his gaze up to Aaron’s face, listening to the story and biting his tongue against the disdain he felt towards Aaron’s mother. What little he’d heard of her so far in their relationship had never painted her in a very good light.
“I tried to tell my mother that I needed to use the bathroom, but she just kept telling to sit still and be quiet. I could feel myself sweating trying to hold it in, my stomach cramping. I thought if I just let a liiiittle bit of gas out, maybe it would help…”
“Oh dear,” Eric couldn’t help but chuckle, fearing where this was headed.
“Yeah,” Aaron nodded in confirmation. “Not only did I shit myself, but it was during a moment of prayer when it was mostly quiet. If you want to know what mortification sounds like, it’s the sound of a seven year old kid, shitting himself in church.”
Eric couldn’t help but laugh, even though he empathized with seven-year-old Aaron. “Is that why you hate salmon patties now?”
“Yup. I’ve never eaten another one since. I think the only thing worse than shitting myself that day was having to go back to that church every Sunday until I finally left home. I was never able to forget about it.”
“That’s awful; way worse than any of my embarrassing stories.”
“What’s yours?” Aaron asked, smiling softly as he held Eric a little tighter.
“When I was in middle school, every kid had to do some kind of sport. I was taller than most kids my age and lanky, so it ended up being basketball for me. I was horrible at it, probably the worst on the team, so during games the coach usually kept me on the bench.”
“Mm, a little bench warmer, hm?” Aaron grinned, running his foot playfully up and down Eric’s calf.
Eric laughed softly. “Shut up… Anyways, we usually never won games, despite me sitting out, but there was one game that the score was really close. Everyone was pumped about it. We were jumping up and down from the bench, hooting and hollering. Well…you know how clumsy I am… I jumped up, and when I came down, I turned my ankle somehow. I didn’t want anyone to know, so I didn’t say anything, but was limping when I got home that night. My dad asked what was wrong with me and I told him I’d injured my ankle during the game. Since he knew I basically just sat there during the games, he asked how that was possible, so I told him I’d hurt it sitting on the bench. I’ve never heard my dad laugh so hard in his life...”
Aaron was chortling, trying to suppress his own laughter, pressing his fist against his mouth as if to hold it in.
“That’s not the best part,” Eric told him. “In our family, the only time you went to a doctor was if there was a bone sticking out or you were dying, so my mom put an ace bandage on me and sent me to bed. The next morning, my toes were turning blue, so my parents finally decided to take me to the doctor. Turns out I broke my ankle, so they had to set it, cast it, and I was on crutches. The only kid probably in the history of basketball to break his ankle as a bench warmer.”
Aaron couldn’t contain his laughter now, making Eric smile at the sound despite the cringe-worthy memory. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he wheezed in laughter, wiping wetness from his eyes. “At least your story is funny and not just humiliating.”
“Yeah, I guess…but it wasn’t funny at the time,” Eric sniggered, infected by Aaron’s hilarity.
“It never is funny at the time.” Aaron’s laughter finally started to die down and he looked at Eric with a goofy grin. “Sounds like I’m going to have to wrap you in bubble wrap to keep you from accidentally breaking anything.”
Eric chuckled as an image popped in his head. “Can you imagine, our next trek through the rain forest to the Zarwulugbo village… Me looking like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man because of all the bubble wrap you’ve put on me. I trip and roll down a hill because I’m just this giant, ball-shaped thing, and all you hear is the popping of the bubble wrap until I roll all the way down to the bottom.”
Both men dissolved into a fit of hysterics at the image, unable to get their laughter under control for several minutes until their sides hurt and they were out of breath. Aaron wiped the tears of mirth from Eric’s cheeks and Eric smiled as he mirrored the gesture.
“I love you,” Aaron murmured happily.
Eric nuzzled close, brushing his nose against Aaron’s, his smile as bright as the sun. “I always had a hunch.”
Kissing the ginger-haired man sweetly, Aaron wrapped his arms around Eric and held him close, still chuckling softly at the image in his head.
Eric chuckled in response, “Shut up.”
“Never.” Aaron smiled, kissing Eric’s forehead as they fell into a drowsy, companionable silence.