Page 50 of Symphony of Salvation

Thirty minutes later, I picked up the tab and followed Niles into the cold winter night. The crisp air sharpened the view of the star-filled sky, and I tipped my head to absorb the endless depths of the universe far above. We were so small and insignificant. Why did it matter? Where had this stubbornness gotten me?

“Did you drive?” Niles asked, bringing me back to earth.

“Yes, but I drank too much… again.”

“We can share an Uber.” He used the app on his phone to arrange a ride. Finished, he popped the collar on his coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s cold.”

“I lived in Russia. This isn’t cold.”

Niles didn’t respond. I diverted my attention back to the stars, trying and failing to pick out constellations. I felt his attention, his questions, and his frustration. The luring pull, aided by liquor, was too much to resist.

“I’m not in denial. I know who I am, Niles.”

“Oh yeah?”

Not looking—I couldn’t for shame, fear, and a hundred other reasons—I continued staring at the sky.

“And who are you,Maestro?”

The dwarfing stars called for surrender. “Don’t call me that.”

“You can’t even look at me.”

I lowered my gaze and took in Niles’s cold, jaded stare. Even with his hostility, the attraction I felt never wavered. The music from before returned with a vengeance, exploding inside my brain, demanding to be written. It was a symphony.

“Do you believe it’s possible to have nothing in common and everything in common at the same time?” I asked.

“The cryptic language is irritating. Speak English.”

Enough alcohol blanketed my system to numb my nerves and give the impression of bravery where none existed. Complex thoughts were not easily expressed with simple words. Even sober, I struggled with the truth.

No doubt adding to Niles’s confusion, I moved closer and tucked a few flyaway pieces of hair behind his ear, lingering, absorbing its softness. The shell and lobe of his ear were ice cold to touch. I wanted to warm them but didn’t, fearing if I paused to think I would lose courage.

The backs of my fingers grazed his beard as I glided them along the curve of his jaw to his chin, where I ghosted my thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. I could do it. Who would know? Who would care?

I openly stared at his mouth, yearning to lean in for a taste yet fighting the pull of my conscience telling me not to.

Under the stars, concealed by shadows, and blanketed by a warm cushion of vodka, there wouldn’t be a better time. Would he hate me? Would he welcome it?

Would I hate myself when it was over?

I searched his eyes. No longer sunsets. The night had stolen their color. Questions. So many questions.

I edged closer, his moist exhales dampening my thumb. I leaned in, heart a thundering bass line joined by a flurrying chorus of butterflies under my skin.

The sound of an approaching car jarred me from the moment, and I startled, stepping back in a hurry as the Uber pulled into the parking lot beside us.

Niles eyed the car, then me, bewilderment plain on the surface. “Really?” he croaked.

The passenger window powered down, and the driver called, “For Edwidge?”

I couldn’t move or breathe.

Niles acknowledged the ride, but his attention never left my face. “Not in denial, huh? I understand now. I’ve met guys like you before who live in a closet, surrounded by shame, and pretending they’re straight. I don’t have time for this shit. Get your own ride,Maestro.”

He got in the car and slammed the door, leaving me alone under a crushing universe of stars. I’d never felt smaller. No, Niles didn’t have a clue what it was like to be me. The perfection he envisioned was an illusion.

Reality was far from pleasant.

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