Page 57 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“It wouldn’t.It’s not the genuine article.I made it at school.Nearly decapitated Martin with it by accident when we were mucking about.You didn’t hit anyone, did you?”
“No,” said Joel.“It got stuck in a tree.I had to climb it to get it down.”
“What else did you do?”
“I tried to give blood.”
“Why on Earth?”said Reg.
“I wanted to feel useful.They disqualified me because I had mono last month.”
“What did you do then?”said Reg.
“Walked around.Stood on the bridge for a while.Were you worried about me?”
“I don’t want to sound like your mother, but yes.”
“You don’t sound anything like my mother.”
“Your sister, then.”
“She treats me like a kid.”
“So did I,” said Reg.
“You don’t now.”Joel lifted his wine glass and sipped.
“Do you like it?”
“I’m not sure,” said Joel.
“There’s milk, if you prefer.”
“I’ll keep drinking this and see if I start liking it.”
“Some good things take time to get used to.”
“I noticed,” said Joel.
They finished their meal with fresh strawberries and cream, and on Reg’s suggestion, they went to the living room to watch a movie.Reg sat at one end of the settee, Joel at the other, an empty seat cushion between them.
They watchedHarold and Maude, Reg feeling very conscious of Joel’s proximity.Periodically, Reg commented on the movie, giving himself an excuse to look at Joel.He tried not to let his gaze linger so Joel wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.Sometimes, he stole sidelong glances at Joel only to find Joel stealing the same glances back at him.
When the movie ended, Joel said he was going to bed.
“Goodnight, Joel.”
“Goodnight.”
Reg watched him go.Then he switched off the television and went to his own bedroom, passing Joel’s on the way.A dim light shone under the door.
Reg’s bedroom was muggy from the day’s heat, so he opened the windows to let the breeze in.The moon was casting a silver light in the room.Reg got into bed and lay on his back.He was exhausted after last night’s broken sleep, but in spite of this, he felt restless and ill-at-ease.
The silence was broken by the sticky sound of bare feet padding up the floating stairs to Reg’s bedroom, followed by footsteps approaching his door, then a light tapping so discreet it didn’t qualify as a knock.
“Yes?”said Reg.
“Can I come in?It’s Joel.”
