Page 30 of Rhymes with Metaphor
Reg glanced at Joel.Joel was looking at Reg with a considering look in his eyes that made Reg feel paranoid.
Flip retired from the match.
“Are you finished?”said Reg, nodding at the can of root beer.
“Yes.”
Reg picked it up and went to the kitchen.He took out his phone and texted Flip:
Call me if you need to talk.
Of course, he’d be in the locker room now.Then he’d have to talk to the media before he could go back to his hotel room.Reg didn’t expect to hear from him for a few hours.He went back to the living room and found Joel asleep.He switched off the TV and sat in the recliner.He looked at Joel’s sleeping face.Had he guessed the truth about Flip?He could have thought it a simple coincidence that Reg had a sketch of Flip’s bracelet in his loft.Joel had asked about it, if it was real, and Reg had stupidly told him that it was.
Flip didn’t call Reg, and Reg found himself unable to write a single word, let alone a poem.All he’d managed to write were two poems at the beginning of this retreat.The chair was going to crucify him.That was on his mind as he stowed his belongings in Martin’s car, and it made him bad-tempered.
Martin was likewise testy because, although he’d asked to go in the car with Juliet while Reg drove Joel home, she had insisted on driving with Joel because she felt she hadn’t spent enough time with him at the cottage.
“She’s right,” said Reg, as Martin pulled onto the highway.“You need to stop trying to fob him off on me.”
“I know what this is really about.”
Reg stiffened.Had Martin guessed?
“You were like this with Dahlhaus,” said Martin.“And Egregria.You’re jealous.You want me all to yourself, even if it means consigning me to a lifetime of celibacy.You may be happy to live that way, but I’m not.”
Reg relaxed.He’d forgotten how oblivious Martin could be sometimes, more so when he had his lovestruck head up his arse.“Don’t take it out on me because you didn’t get off with her this week.”
They barely spoke for the rest of the drive back to the city, though Martin drowned out the silence with theCross Country Checkuppodcast again.
Reg wasn’t overly concerned.He and Martin had minor spats on a regular basis, and they always made up a few days later.He wasn’t in a chatty mood anyway.He was trying to concoct an excuse for the chair about his dismal productivity.
––––––––
The meeting with thechair was worse than Reg had anticipated.Afterwards, he retreated to his loft with a plan to do nothing all day but lie in his bath licking his wounds and eating Indian takeaway, then getting shit-faced on the bottle of absinthe Martin had bought him for Christmas.
Perhaps later, he would join the rest of the MFAs from his intake in slagging off the chair in the group chat.But right now, he wasn’t in the mood for human interaction.
He was half undressed and filling his bath when his phone lit up in his jacket pocket on the bathroom floor.He didn’t recognize the number, so it wasn’t the chair or Martin, or anyone else he definitely didn’t want to speak to.
“If you’re not more appealing than my bath, I’m hanging up,” said Reg.
“It’s Joel.”
Reg turned off the taps to give himself a moment to think.“Did Martin put you up to this?”
“No.I’m outside your building.Can I come up?”
“If you keep it brief.”Reg put the phone down.Water dripped off the end of the faucet, and he peered at his reflection.
He succumbed to decorum only enough to put his shirt back on, but he left it unbuttoned.He was wearing trousers at least, and that would have to do.
He buzzed Joel in, and while he was waiting for him, he poured himself a glass of absinthe and started unpacking his takeaway.
A couple of minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.
No scrubs today.Joel wore black jeans and a black hoodie, which made him look even younger and a little delinquent.Reg let him in, and he pulled off his hoodie, revealing a white T-shirt underneath.Then he took off his shoes, leaning heavily against the door while he did.Though he didn’t look as sick as he had on the day Reg had taken him in from the rain, he still looked run-down and unwell.
“Go and sit down,” said Reg.Before you fall over.
