Page 91 of Poolside

“Then what’s so different about letting him do the same for you?” Dr. Anderson peered at Chuck over his glasses. “You could make the argument that that’s what a relationship is—an agreement between two people who take care of each other and complement each other with the different gifts and strengths they bring to the table.”

As soon as Chuck left Dr. Anderson’s office, he pulled out his phone.

Chuck: Wanna go to the beach on Sunday?

Tommy: I’d love to.

* * *

It was a short drive to Folly Beach, and they were early enough that the wide stretch of sand next to the tall pier was mostly empty aside from some ambitious runners and a group of older women doing yoga.

Chuck slipped off his shoes as soon as they reached the sand, Tommy following suit beside him. The breeze that rolled in off of the water ruffled Chuck’s hair, and he tilted his head back, filling his lungs with the fresh, salty air.

Tommy spread a quilt out on the ground, and Chuck admired him for a moment. He wore blue running shorts that stopped above his knees and a white t-shirt. Sunglasses were pushed up on the top of his head, holding the floppy front pieces of his hair back.

They sat side by side. Chuck passed Tommy the breakfast sandwich and strawberry cream danish he’d picked up for him, and then opened his own. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the churning waves and the wheeling gulls.

Chuck set down his food, wiping his hands carefully on a paper napkin. “I go back to the old meds next week.”

“Yeah? How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m not sure.” Chuck looked down at his fingers, at the nails painted his favorite shade of stormy gray-blue. “Nervous something will go wrong again, but also, I’m so fucking ready to move on and get out of this hole.”

Beside him, Tommy’s body shifted, and then Chuck felt the warm press of Tommy’s knee against his thigh. Without saying anything, he returned the gentle pressure.

“Can I ask you something?”

Chuck glanced at Tommy. “Of course.”

Tommy frowned, his brows furrowing. “I’m worried about screwing this up, or not knowing the right way to support you. I don’t want to do something that winds up hurting you more than it helps. I’m always on your team, but sometimes, I feel like I don’t know the play. And that scares me. It really fucking scares me.” Tommy’s hand slipped over his palm, their fingers slotting into place. “I’m scared one day you’re going to look over and tell me I screwed it all up and I won’t get a chance to fix it.”

Chuck tightened his grip, leaning into the grounding connection between their bodies. His thumb gently caressed the back of Tommy’s hand. “Okay,” he said, holding Tommy’s gaze. “How can I help you feel less afraid?”

Relief softened Tommy’s face. “Could you,” he started, his throat working. “Could you tell me when I’m doing something good? When I’m being a good partner? And when I’m not, or when I mess up or I misjudge, will you tell me that, too?”

Chuck considered what Tommy was asking, thinking what it would be like to be so open and honest with someone. A part of him was relieved at the idea of having it all laid out there between them. It sounded terrifying, yes, but wouldn’t this alleviate his own fears too?

“Yeah,” Chuck said, and a little glimmer of excitement, of something that tasted a bit like giddiness, filled his chest. “I can do that, as long as you promise to be patient with me.” A sudden nervous laugh spilled from him and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been talking to my therapist about you.”

Tommy raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

He squeezed Tommy’s hand. “I’m scared too, T. I’m scared that if I let you all the way in, if you see just how fucked up things really are in my head, it’ll be too much for you. And I don’t want to scare you away, because I want you to be here, with me, like this.”

Tommy somehow moved even closer, so close that the sides of their bodies felt connected. Skin on skin, cotton on cotton, two shoulders tanned and freckled from long hours in the sun. Tommy pulled their joined hands into his lap, cradling Chuck’s like it was a precious thing to be protected.

Tommy leaned in and Chuck felt the soft, dry brush of his lips against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I want to know all of it. I want to know all of you.”

And so Chuck began. He explained the lethargy that drained his energy, and the apathy that sometimes left him unable to move from his bed. He talked about how sometimes waking up alone in the middle of the night left him unmoored and scared. He admitted that he still worried he wasn’t giving Tommy nearly as much as Tommy was giving to him.

At some point, Tommy had moved so he was facing Chuck, and his vision was filled with all the things he loved about him: deep laugh lines, a smoothly shaved jaw, a mouth that was soft and relaxed as he gave Chuck his undivided attention.

“Don’t you realize you’re already giving me everything?” Tommy cupped Chuck’s cheek with his free hand. “Your company and the chance to be a part of your life are all I want.”

Chuck leaned into his touch. “But you do so much for me, T. Isn’t it unfair?”

Tommy was already shaking his head. “Fuck that. Fuck keeping score. You already give me exactly what I need, baby, and I’m going to work my ass off to learn how to do the same for you. And those things I do for you? Making dinner and swimming? Every single one of those things fills me up, too. So don’t go telling me this beautiful thing we’re building together isn’t fair, Chuck.”

Chuck felt lightheaded, the hesitant joy and hope that had started earlier now filled his chest and head with a bright, blinding excitement as he thought about the days, weeks, and months ahead.

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