Chapter 15

Sweat caused my T-shirt to cling to my chest, my breathing was heavy and labored, and my legs felt like they were going to give out as I ran my third lap around the trail that belted the meadow at Cedar Grove Park. That giant bowl of grass and nothingness that played host to concerts and festivals during the warm months, that was surrounded by dense rows of trees and winding trails, seemed like a waste today. It was so bleak, so barren, while everything around it seemed full of life. The grass was soggy, and mud puddled around the edges, small pools of murky water resting on top.

The morning after Matti and I had sex for the first time, I awoke with more pep than I had had in years. Running seemed like the only way to get it out of my system. My pulse raced with nervous energy. The world around me felt like lightning. The trees in the park were greener than usual and the people friendlier. The sky was a dark, craggy gray, a canopy of clouds so thick overhead that it looked like smoke was billowing from some giant fire in the distance. But all I could see was the sun. The morning air was even thicker than the night before, and it was probably going to start raining again any minute. I didn't care. I had to run. I had to sing. I had to feel whatever the world needed me to feel.

For the first time in a long time, I felt inspired. What was I supposed to do with all of this drive? Throw it into my work? That's what I always did, inspired or not. No, this sort of energy required a different type of outlet, one that would reciprocate. I jogged and I jogged in hopes of releasing whatever cyclone had spun its way into my being, chipping away at the frigid fortress that surrounded what had become my black heart.

Birds played in the leaves, chasing one another from treetop to treetop. A jogger traveling in the opposite direction waved at me as I passed them by. I stopped and rested my hands on my knees, bending over to catch my breath near a boulder that sat randomly off to the side of the trail. It butted up against a stately-looking oak tree. Fuzzy green moss grew on sections of the boulder nearest to the tree. A bead of sweat from my forehead traveled down the tip of my nose, falling to the ground.

As the low-lying clouds raced across the sky overhead, I decided to take a break and lean against the boulder, softly running my fingers over a patch of moss. Vivid recollections of my childhood rushed in. When I was a boy, five or six at most, I used to sit on the curb between the driveway of our house and a tree that provided enough shade to be comfortable in the summer while waiting for my pops to get home from work. My ma might have been pulling weeds or planting flowers in the small L-shaped bed that butted up against the front of the house, the front porch, if you could even call it that. It was tiny, more of a landing for bags of groceries while one fished for keys to unlock the front door. My sister would be inside doing her homework, probably multiplication tables or something.

My tiny fingers would graze the moss that tended to grow along the ridge where the cement curb met the soil and grass of the island strip. I would always be gentle because the moss was so soft and delicate that I didn't want to hurt it. Sometimes, a lonely ant would wander into the picture, and I would try to get it to climb onto my finger so I could show my ma. She, too, seemed more carefree back then.

"That's a nice ant, Brandon," she'd say gently, if a bit guarded. She never liked insects. "Now, put it back where you found it before your father gets home."

As I played, my pops's beige 1975 Cutlass Supreme would round the corner from Deer Park Avenue onto our street, the sound of it uniquely recognizable to me. He would park the car in the driveway and jump out to greet me, bending slightly at the knees, holding his arms open wide to receive me, a familiar smile painted on his face. His suit jacket would be left in the passenger seat of the car along with his briefcase, darkened rings of moisture in his armpits from the humidity and a long drive home in a car whose air conditioner only worked when it wanted to. I would jump up and run to him, excited to tell him about my day and build a house out of LEGOs with him after dinner.

This was before he lost any sense of whimsy he once possessed and turned into the unwavering asshole I came to know in high school. At one point, he seemed happy about arriving home to excited children, wanting to hug them and play with them and talk about what they'd been doing all day. I sometimes remember him that way.

I continued to finger the moss, lost in a rosy daydream of years past. An absent look on my face gave way to a stupid smile as I almost stopped to smell the roses. Moss. Fuzzy green moss growing on a boulder. How could such a simple pleasure give way to consuming thoughts of times more innocent? Where was all this goodness and wonder coming from?

Sometimes I viewed the past through rose-colored lenses. But now, the present—the here and now—was throwing itself at me in vivid hues of yellow and green and fucking lavender. This couldn't possibly be how most people saw the world around them. No one could house this much feeling, this many senses. I was waiting for a jovial butterfly puttering about to land on my shoulder or some equally absurd sign that I had been abducted and thrown into a cheesy scene from a romance film. While that didn't exactly happen, there were two butterflies fluttering around an overgrown bush to my right.

This was insanity. There could only be one explanation: I had fallen in love.

Goddammit, I was head over heels in love with Matti. Alex and Calvin were right. Darryl was right. Vonnie was right, whether or not she ever said it. She was always right. They all knew I was in deep shit before I did. My condo had flooded, and the water was up to my knees before I even realized I'd left the bathtub running. I had had control of the situation. Matti intrigued me. He was attractive and smart, but I knew what I was doing. He was genuine and clever and interesting, but I knew how to play it cool. He was confident and strong and hot and caring and forthright. I was going to take my time and ease into this though. I wasn't going to rush things.

But shit. Shit, shit, shit. Love was a sneaky son of a bitch. I only hoped that Matti felt the same way. I didn't want to be the only one jumping in headfirst to whatever this was. I wouldn't. My suspicion was that his feelings for me had gotten the better of him too, but I had been fooled before. It's why I kept my guard up.

What was there of love that I had yet to experience? I had been through the uneasiness, the shared jealousy, and the emotional wreckage that cleverly disguised itself as reckless giddiness. And that was the best of it. The betrayal and the uncertainty and the feeling of your heart falling into your stomach, the hollowed-out, sobering sense of melancholy. Those were my memories of love.

And that was it. My emotional state slipped from a towering platform of unrelenting wonder to a bottomed-out cavern of sorrow in a matter of seconds, my arms and legs flailing, my fingers gripping at the edge, red and blistered. That's what Nate had given me. That's what he'd left me with to process over and over again. That's what they all left me with.

Standing, my hands resting on my hips, I began to wander in hopes of shaking off that feeling of impending disappointment, of certain death. I wanted the fuzzy green moss back. I was happier then, just moments ago.

My stroll didn't last long. A few steps from the boulder, I sat down on a stone wall that wrapped itself halfway around a small plaza just beside the meadow. A sudden thunder crash cracked and rumbled in the distance, echoing through the sky until it sounded like it was just overhead. A few light drops fell from the clouds and onto the wall around me, the flattened stones at my feet becoming a canvas for splatter paint. As wet as my hair had grown with sweat, I felt a few drops pummel my scalp. The rain felt cool against my skin as it quickly picked up and darkened the ground around me. The polka dots soon bled into one another, and the paved trails through the park grew slick with moisture.

Instead of jumping up to run back home, I simply let the rain fall on me: my head, my arms, my face. Into my eyes. I tasted the drops as they soaked into my tongue, comforting and plain. The rain pelted me. It came down quickly and surrounded me, pulled me into its embrace as it showered the world in my proximity. The pattern of heavy breathing that still lingered in my lungs eventually slowed to a normal rate as my clothes clung to my skin.

I remembered dancing in the rain with Matti last night, with the dogs, as we defied all sense and logic in a lightning storm. I wondered if it was raining anywhere else in the world at that moment or only in the city I called mine. Perhaps the sun truly was shining bright everywhere else. It reminded me that I was but a blip in the world, occupying such a small space in a sprawling country on a sprawling planet in the sprawling universe. The realization that I was head over heels in love with Matti no longer felt so frightening. When I felt so small in the world, why should such a big feeling scare me? Put into context, the feeling really wasn't that big after all. The fear of rejection was a trap, never allowing me to feel anything genuine, and maybe it was time I started to work through that.

But how?

I stood up and turned to walk home, forcing myself to feel the sting of every raindrop that touched my body. There was something freeing about not caring whether I got wet, whether or not I was uncomfortable with or incensed by or harmonious with my emotional state, and suddenly, getting drenched in the downpour became a stupid metaphor for my life. To feel anything, I needed to feel something, frightening or not.

By the time I got back to Stratus, I was soaking wet, water dripping from my clothes, down my legs, into my sneakers. I did my best to wring out my T-shirt and shorts before entering the lobby, but a trail of water droplets followed me into the building anyway as I sloshed my way down the hallway to the elevators.

Plastic yellow caution cones decorated the common areas of the building, warning everyone entering and exiting to beware of wet floors. Cold air blasted into the hallway from industrial-looking vents above, nearly freezing my clothes to my frame. It was like stepping out of a hot tub into the freezing January air.

Maestro was fast asleep on the couch when I opened the door and stepped into my condo. He barely opened one eye to confirm it was me before drifting back into dreamland. I was glad I decided to take him out for his morning walk before it started raining.

Tearing out of my clothes as I stepped into the closet, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and noticed a text message from Matti lighting up the screen. "Thank you for last night. I really enjoyed spending time with you. I hope we can do it again soon. Have a good day at work, Brandon."

I felt my cock instinctively plump as I stood naked in my closet, the beginnings of an erection forming as the most innocent of messages graced the screen of a stupid gadget. It didn't take long before captivating memories of kissing Matti in his hallway, of sucking his cock, of him forcefully pushing me onto his bed began racing through my mind. I got lost in sensations of his cock in my ass, visions of his naked body on top of mine as he fucked me, as he claimed me. I grew harder and typed back. "I like spending time with you too. We can do it again anytime. Hope you have a good day, Matti."

I finished by including a blushing kissy-face emoji. That was as much as I could get out before I needed to jump in the shower, partly because I needed to get to work and partly because my cock was begging for attention. Like a fourteen-year-old kid, I was desperate to get off after having just ejaculated the night before. In the shower that morning, I craved Matti's touch, his skin on my skin, his breath on the back of my neck. I could taste his lips and indulge in his energy. My imagination had me pushed up against the tile as he took me from behind, his arms wrapped around my body, his big hands gripping at my flesh. I came in a matter of minutes, the spunk that couldn't make the jump to the wall in front of me getting rinsed down the drain with the bath water.

I had to run to the shop in the rain, my umbrella just for show, short on time due to the extracurricular activities that occupied my morning. By the time I arrived, I was wet again. Not nearly as wet as I'd gotten earlier on my jog, but wet enough. Fortunately, Vonnie had opened the shop and was getting set up for the day as I walked in.

"Hey, Loverboy," she called from behind the counter without looking up as she sorted bills into stacks, placing them in the cash drawer.

"Funny." My reply was sarcastic. I stopped to wipe my feet on the mat before thanking her for opening the shop.

She glanced up from her task before looking me up and down in the most judgmental but friendly way. "You got fucked good last night, didn't you?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to fight back a stupid smile as I stepped toward her, rounding the counter and starting my way up the steps to my office. How did she always know?

"Mmhmm, I knew it." She was as pleased as she could be with herself as she pushed the stocked drawer into the register. "There are clean towels in the linen closet."

"Thanks," I called from the top of the stairs without looking, unable to feign any sort of ill will in response to her affable judgment. I was just too happy to care that she could read me like a book without ever cracking the cover.

I grabbed a towel from the linen closet and ran it over the top of my head, absent-mindedly trying to dry my hair as I stepped into my office and fell into my desk chair. I immediately called Alex.

"Just enjoy the feeling, B," he answered without prompt. I had texted him earlier, so he knew where my head was.

"How can I?" My voice frantically wavered. "It's too quick, and I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Nobody does. You just gotta go with it and hope for the best. If you like being with him, then be with him. He obviously likes being with you too."

"But love?" I asked again. "It's really fucking scary, man. What happens next?"

"Alright, stop acting like this is the first time you've been in love."

I choked, unsure how to respond. My silence was noticed.

"You loved Nate, right? As big of a prick as he was, you were together for five years."

Did I?

"Of course I loved him," I announced before finding another uncomfortable pause. "I mean, I don't know. I liked him. Like, a lot. For a while. We had fun, and it was nice having him around. But it never felt like this, y'know? I never felt what I'm feeling right now. It's like my stomach is doing flips, and I just keep waiting for another text from him. I'm obsessing about it, you know what I mean? I can't keep myself from thinking about him and wondering what he's doing. I feel like a stalker or something."

"You were for a while. Remember?"

I laughed. "C'mon, this is serious."

Alex laughed as he realized the source of my anxiety, a dancing surge of emotion that couldn't be contained or pinned down, that gleeful, unnerving agony that comes from being on the verge of falling in love.

Maybe I hadn't loved Nate. Perhaps he was nothing more than a steady presence in my life, a body to fill the void in a persistently empty house. He was fun at first. I liked him for a while. Was that different? Months passed before we said we loved each other. He showed me his true self slowly over time. I ignored the red flags because he had been there; he was consistent. Wasn't that real? Didn't that mean something? Had I misunderstood love completely?

I couldn't remember his touch, the way his skin smelled in the morning, the tightness of his hand around my cock. Had I blocked it all out? Maybe I'd cast away the ability to love after the other disappointments, after being told that it wasn't real, after being shown that it wasn't real. Maybe I never learned how to love in the first place. Did I even love myself?

I couldn't be bothered to dive into the morbid origin of this existential crisis. Not now. It would have to be saved away for another time, a different rainy day. I asked him again, "It's too quick, right?"

"It is what it is, Brandon."

"Jesus, you can be annoying."

Alex laughed again.

I stared at the wall in front of me, sparsely decorated with haste, the only personal items a framed photo of the front of the shop I took once the sign had been installed and a similarly framed dollar bill. It was symbolic. I'm almost certain the first sale I made was paid for by credit card. The walls were painted what was supposed to be a soothing shade of gray, one that would inspire calm and hopefully conceal trails of dog slobber that were sure to decorate them. Instead, the color looked empty, neutral to the extent of nothingness. My desk was organized, everything in its place: a monitor and keyboard, a phone, some pens and paperclips organized into bland containers that reeked of the ambivalence of an office supply store, two framed photos—one of Maestro and one of me with Alex and Calvin. It had been taken not long after Calvin dropped into our lives. There was nothing off-putting about my workspace, nothing that wasn't fine on the surface. But it had grown stale in its simplicity, in its boredom. Another metaphor.

"How long did it take you to know you were in love with Patrick?" I asked him. "Like, head over heels, dumb-fucked in love?"

"I knew the first night we went out."

"Really? You never told me that."

"I just wanted to be sure. But he told me he loved me a week into it, so I knew I could be honest with him too."

"You think I should wait for Matti to say something first?"

"Nah. I think you should shout it from the rooftop, B. Like, hang up the phone with me, call his ass, and tell him," he pleaded. Then, he chided, "But I know how you are."

"I'm being for real, Alex," I started, a nagging need for further guidance pulling at me. "How did you know? Like, what did it feel like?"

"It was everything, the whole package. The little things he showed me about himself. He was smart and funny and well-traveled. Confident but vulnerable. He was from a world that I never knew, that I couldn't know, and he wanted to share it with me. He looked into my eyes when he spoke, and he held my hand, and he opened the door for me. He asked me about myself and listened when I spoke. He had no expectations for me that he knew I couldn't meet. And he was fun to be around. Like, warm and inviting."

"Yeah?"

Alex spoke of Patrick like he was some kind of gift from the world, wrapped neatly with care and addressed only to him. Matti was one of a kind, like no one I had ever met. We seemed to share a connection that no one else could. When I spoke of him, did it resemble the way Alex spoke of Patrick? Might there be similarities in our bonds? Could Matti be a gift? He felt like one, wrapped ever so precisely, made up of all the things I'd been lacking.

"Yeah," he answered. "What is it about Matti?"

"I guess it's the same. I just feel good whenever we're in the same space together. He's understanding, and he listens, and there's a maturity about him that I've never seen in anyone else. He's playful, but he doesn't play games. He's sincere when he speaks. And he's strong but gentle when he touches me. Like, protective but tender. Like he doesn't want to hurt me. And he just makes me wanna do better. Be better."

"Those sound like good reasons to fall for someone."

"Yeah?" I asked, needing further validation, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yeah. So, when are you seeing him next?"

"I don't know. But I want to see him again soon."

"Then you better reach out and make some plans because he probably wants to see you again too."

"Yeah, alright," I agreed, defeated but excited. Nervous but happy. I didn't want to mess this up by playing the same kinds of games that others had played with me in the past: waiting for him to make the first move, waiting for him to take the lead so I couldn't be blamed when we failed, waiting for him to show me his hand before I laid my own cards down. I could easily act too cool and aloof, leading him to think I didn't care, that I wasn't invested, that his presence didn't matter more than anyone else's. I wanted to protect my heart, but what's a heart for if it never gets used? I wrapped up my call with Alex. "Thanks for talking me down, man. I just needed you to reel me in."

"I know, B. Anytime."

As soon as we hung up, I texted Matti, "Actually, if you're free, I'd love to see you again tonight."

Before I was able to jam my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated. "Dinner at my place? 8:00? Bring Maestro." A heart-eyes emoji followed.

I quickly typed back, "We'll be there."

A heart icon landed on top of my message. He loved my response. Maybe diving in headfirst wouldn't be so bad.