Page 90 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“I don’t know,” said Joel, looking through the pages.“I can’t read your handwriting.If you want me to type these, you’ll have to dictate them.And can you get me another empty file folder?I’ll put everything that needs transcribing into the accordion folder and then transfer each one to the second folder after I’ve typed it so I don’t duplicate my work.I’ll use my laptop—I’m used to the keyboard, and I’ll email you the manuscript when it’s finished.”
“But I need them in a specific order,” said Reg.“And I won’t know what it should be until I’ve seen them all together as a group.”
“No problem.It’s easy to rearrange them once they’re typed.Did your department give you formatting guidelines for your thesis?”
“It’s on the website, I think?”
“I’ll look it up.”
“This is a shambles,” said Reg.“An utter shambles.”
“It’s not, Reg.Don’t worry.”
While Joel typed Reg’s thesis, Reg went off to the library to strip all of the books from the shelves and shake out the pages on the off-chance he’d used one of his poems as a bookmark.He stopped after he’d cleared one shelf and looked at the mess of books on the floor, in the window seat, and on the desk.He felt defeated, scattered, and panicked.
From the dining room, Joel said, “I’ve finished the title page.”
“I don’t know what the title even is,” said Reg.
“I’ve put in a placeholder.You can title it afterwards.Where do you want to start?”
“Start with the first ones.The ones I sent to the chair last spring.Move over.”He had to access his email and go searching for them, right back to the very first one, “Paper Soldier.”Joel copied and pasted it into the thesis, and Reg found the next one and the next, until all the ones he’d sent the chair were in place.
“You’ll have to dictate these next ones,” said Joel.“They look like scribbles to me.”
The sheets of paper bearing the poems, crumpled, smeared, torn scraps of paper, a popcorn box, and Joel’s scrub top, had all been “filed” in the accordion folder, and Reg removed them one by one.He read them aloud, stopping sometimes to squint at the words because his handwriting was so unsteady he had to guess what he’d written.Seeing these made him frustrated and sad; they were like lost memories of happy times.
Reg pulled out the scrub top he’d written on the first night Joel had slept with him.He hadn’t looked at it since the day he’d written it.The sound of Joel’s hailstorm typing stopped.
Joel was staring at the laptop screen.He looked unnerved.“This poem is about me.”
“They’re all about you, cariad.”
Joel had the same look on his face as he had when Flip had struck him with the ball, like the wind had been knocked clean out of him.
“You must have realized, surely?”said Reg.
“No,” said Joel quietly.He got up and left the room.
When he didn’t come back, Reg went looking and found him sitting on the terrace in the dark, cradling his head in his arms.
Reg didn’t know what to say or how to make things right.A similar thing had happened when Reg had given Flip a copy ofPlayer.The difference being, once Flip had gotten over the initial shock, he had been furious.He had only calmed down when Reg convinced him that no one who read the poems would know they were about him because Reg had never told anyone about their relationship.Still, Flip wouldn’t let Reg attend any of his matches for an entire year afterPlayerwas published.
“I’m sorry,” said Reg.“I won’t tell anyone it’s you.No one will know about us.”
Joel didn’t look at him.“I want people to know about us.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I can’t take how you see me.I’m nothing special, Reg.I’m good at school, that’s all.”
Joel looked so overcome that Reg pulled him into his arms and held him.“One day, you’ll realize how splendid you are.”
The cool evening air started to encroach, and they went inside.Joel was more focussed now, calmer.He pulled a sheet of torn paper from the accordion folder and frowned.
“It looks like you wrote this in the dark,” said Joel.
“I did.We were in bed, and I didn’t want to wake you by putting on a light.Maybe it’ll be more legible if I switch the light off.”Reg did.
