Page 87 of Poolside

Tommy shrugged. “Figuring it out. Is Rick here yet?” Tommy glanced down the hallway, but didn’t see the telltale sliver of light cast underneath their boss’s door.

“Not yet.”

Like he’d somehow been summoned, their boss blew into the office with a loud “Good morning!” that made Tommy’s head throb.

“Well, Littleton,” the man said, and Tommy caught a hint of a sneer in his over-bright smile. “I have to say I’m disappointed you didn’t make it through the weekend. I was looking forward to seeing you kick some ass out there.”

Tommy looked at him, steeling himself with a slow breath. “Something important came up,” he said, careful to keep his tone even.

Rick let out a wide-mouthed laugh. “You know, Littleton, there’s always something. What I’m looking for on my team are the people who can make their work a priority, who are willing to make the sacrifices necessary to make this business successful.”

“Okay then,” Tommy replied, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? What point was there arguing with a man like Rick when Tommy would make the same decision over and over again if it meant ensuring the wellbeing of the man he loved? Tommy was the kind of man who wouldalwayspick his family over a job.

Since his divorce, since the family he was building with Courtney was ripped apart, Tommy had become the kind of employee Rick prized. The one who put in extra time, who thought nothing of personal sacrifice for some fabricated greater good. But what kind of greater good was a profit margin? What was the point of putting yourself on the line for extra income when you already had more than enough?

And he did. Tommy had so much more than enough. He had a home, and friends and a family who, although far away, loved him and supported him however they could. He had his health. And now there was a warm, bright house where the man who had always felt like he was, in some way, made just for Tommy, waited for him. Tommy got to love him, care for him and be with him andfuckif that wasn’t so much more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Rick was still speaking, but Tommy ignored him, focusing on the screen in front of him. He pulled up his email and started to work through the list of things that needed to be done.

Eventually Rick wandered off, and the office returned to the quiet tapping of keyboards.

“You’re going to quit, aren’t you?”

Tommy smiled, exhaling a quiet laugh. “Yeah, Deb. As soon as I can find another job, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

* * *

He didn’t find a new job right away. But Tommy was patient, and it had gotten easier to show up every day now that he knew his time was finite.

His life had fallen into a new rhythm since the Fourth. Every morning, he showed up at Chuck’s place at 6:00 am, ready to drag him to the pool. Most mornings he came willingly, but sometimes he put up a fight. No matter what he said, after the first few laps, Tommy could see some of the tension fade from his shoulders.

Tommy went along, committed to being at Chuck’s side. He’d slip into the lane next to him, copying whatever workout Chuck had chosen. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but figured it wasn’t the time to bombard Chuck with questions. The workouts were quiet, with little to no conversation between them, but Tommy found that he looked forward to their mornings together in the water.

There were still shadows under Chuck’s eyes that never fully lifted, and even in the afternoon after work, Tommy would frequently find him curled up in his bed. There was a vibrancy Tommy had always associated with Chuck that was missing.

But this softer, quieter man was still Chuck, and Tommy was coming to love this version of him too. This Chuck was more direct, looking Tommy right in the eye and telling him when he wanted to be left alone. He craved creature comforts, like soft t-shirts and fuzzy sweats and fleece blankets. He even went so far as to crank up the AC so he could comfortably wear his wool socks in spite of the summer heat.

Chuck shared bits of his progress with him. The plan from Chuck’s psychiatrist was to titrate off of the new medication, and reintroduce the old medication at a lower dose.

Chuck had explained it all over dinner one night: the initial diagnosis, the decision to go on meds, the medical explanation for the different kinds of medications used to help manage depression and anxiety and what Chuck’s experiences with them had been.

Tommy had listened as he shared the shame he’d felt when his body struggled to get hard or orgasm, and how that had been what led him to switch medications in the first place. And Chuck shared his fear that, if he didn’t ‘fix’ his depression, no one would want him as a partner.

When Tommy jumped in to correct him, Chuck had told him he was working on changing his outlook in therapy. He was learning to accept his depression as a part of who he was—not something that defined him, but also not something that needed to be fixed in order for him to be whole.

Tommy’s admiration for Chuck only grew after everything he shared. To be living with depression while balancing a demanding career? Chuck had gone through life feeling like he had to put on a brave face every day just so he wouldn’t inconvenience or frighten those around him.

Chuck was strong. So fucking strong.

And when Tommy worried that maybe he was doing too much or not enough, he asked Chuck how he could best show up during all of this. Chuck always had the same response: “Just make sure I keep swimming and don’t stop showing up.”

So that’s what Tommy did. He couldn’t do the healing for him. He couldn’t lift the weight of the world from Chuck’s shoulders, but he could stand by his side while he got back on his feet.

After work, Tommy would go to Chuck’s house with his laptop and look for a new job while Chuck dozed or watched something on TV. Some nights, Tommy would make them dinner, and others Chuck would cook while he was at work. Sometimes, Chuck would look over at him with apologetic eyes and say, “I’m so sorry,” and when that happened, Tommy would hold him tight and tell him how much he cared for him. He’d remind Chuck how wonderful and cherished he was.

Sometimes, Chuck would ask Tommy not to come over.

And some nights, Chuck would ask him to read out loud. Tommy would sit on top of the covers with his ankles crossed and read out of whatever history book he happened to be working through at the time. Chuck would curl up in as tight of a ball as his long limbs would allow, and Tommy would lose his place because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

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