Page 104 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“Can I help with your corrections?”said Joel.“If you dictate them to me, I can type them.”Joel sat at the study desk, now bare, apart from his laptop.“It’ll save you time.I’ve still got a copy of your thesis on my computer.”
“I don’t want to think about it right now.”
“What do you want to do?”said Joel.
“Get drunk on Cognac and give you a hand job.”
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The next morning, aftera lie-in, Joel convinced Reg to deal with his thesis corrections.Reg was inclined to work on them the day they were due, but Joel argued that if the job was bigger than Reg anticipated, he might not finish in time.Reg reluctantly acquiesced.He sat with Joel at his desk with the marked-up manuscripts and went through them, page by page.
It was tedious work.Reg would have hated it if he’d been alone and would have quit after ten minutes.But Joel was by his side, prompting him to keep going, and by early evening, they’d finished.
“You see?”said Reg.“That could have waited until the last day.”
“You aren’t finished yet.You forgot the acknowledgments.”
“Blast,” said Reg.“All right.Take dictation.”
Reg paced the study, noting the experience wasn’t the same now he wasn’t stepping on random papers and socks.He listed the people he wanted to thank, periodically correcting himself on his wording.Then he stopped.
Joel looked at him expectantly.“Is that it?”
“No.But cariad, the poems are about you.If I put your name here, everyone will know who you are and what you are to me.I’d be outing you.Do you want that?”
“Use my name,” said Joel.“My full name.I want people to know.”
Reg had been given permission, for the first time in his life, to name someone publicly as his lover.He started welling up.He closed his mouth over Joel’s.
“Joel, my cariad, sweetheart who bore my words and without whom this collection wouldn’t exist.And who wears too many clothes—no, don’t write that.”
Reg undid the button at Joel’s collar, then another, then another.And he got Joel off on the desk.
Afterwards, Reg said, “Tidiness has its points.There wasn’t room on my desk to do that before.And, of course, I didn’t have anyone to do it to.”
Joel put his shirt back on and pulled up his trousers.“You forgot to give your thesis a title.”
“How aboutRhymes with Metaphor, Mr.Pettifer?”
Joel smiled and typed it in.Reg put his hand over Joel’s, and they both clicked send.
