Page 87 of How to Hide in Plain Sight
He’s delicate, but things escalate quickly. Shirts come off. Pants come off. Suddenly we’re two bodies in undergarments so thin they might as well not exist. The heat below my stomach rises. Thedarkness behind my eyelids starts to spin. I understand now that this is what a decade of friendship has driven toward. I’m happy, I’m drunk, I’m terrified, I’m invisible.
And then, from nothing, from nowhere, a face flashes through my mind.
Henry.
Henry’s face, as vivid and unmistakable as a shot of brandy.
Jesus, I think.Near naked, at peak sexual arousal—that’swhat pops into your mind? What are you, an incestuous freak?
And as soon as I think it…
Oh no. Oh shit.
You’re in love with your dead brother.
No, don’t be an idiot. That’s insane.
But you pictured his face while you were aroused. That’s all the evidence you need.
That’s fake. That’s a fake belief. That’s false. That’s poison.
But as soon as I think it, it can’t be unthought. The ticker flashes back to life, scrolling hatred across the backs of my eyelids. DISGUST in all caps. I try to argue with it, but I can’t.
All of this is happening in my head. Manuel can’t hear any of it. I don’t pull back from him. I keep kissing, as if nothing is wrong. Because nothingiswrong…right? My head is just doing what it does. What it’s always done. Or at least, what it’s done for so long I can’t remember what it’s like to live any other way.
I try to relax. To focus on the present. I sink out of my head and into my body, the way Dr.Droopy tells me to. What’s happening here? What do I feel now?Hereis the Fort.Nowis my best friend’s mouth on my bare chest.
But they’re coming. The unwanted certainties. The intrusive thoughts. Once the ticker starts, it’s impossible to stop. You’rehere, I tell myself. I picture Manuel’s face, his furrowed brow, his dimpled smile. But it’s no use. Henry is back.Hisfurrowed brow,hisdimpled smile. But, no, that’s not right, that can’t be right. Who is who? I don’t know, I can’t tell. Their faces blend. Maybe it’s the booze. Maybe it’s me. I’m here in this Fort, but I’m somewhere else, too. I’m laughing with my best friend. Which best friend? I don’t know.I don’t know.
“Eliot?” Manuel has stopped kissing me. “Shit. Are you okay?”
I open my eyes. I see a blurry outline. I recognize brown skin and a tuft of dark hair. I blink, and it’s then that I realize I’m crying.
“Oh my God. Did I hurt you?” Manuel cradles my face in his hands. He retracts them almost immediately, as if afraid he’ll hurt me further. “Am I…did I do something wrong? Are we…do you not want to…?”
“No, no,” I say. “No, it’s not that. It’s…” Tears flood my face. I know I’m scaring him. I don’t mean to. I try to explain. “It’s…it’s the thoughts. They’re just…”
Manuel understands. He tucks me into his chest. “Shhh.”
I take one heavy, rattling breath, and then I come to pieces against his body. The sobs are as all-consuming as our laughter. I give myself over to them, let them carry me, the same way joy carried me. I ride their momentum. And then they shrink, turning from great waves of sorrow to shallow ripples. I breathe in again. My nose leaves a trail of snot on his skin.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though I’m not sure why.
“Don’t apologize, Eliot. Don’t you ever apologize for something that’s not your fault.”
We lie there in silence. It’s a new kind of silence. A third kind. This one trembles. It feels as delicate as a castle built of sand.
“I love you,” I whisper into this third silence. “And not in the way I usually mean it.”
Manuel’s arms tighten. “I’ve never meant it any other way.”
27
NOW
I DIDN’T BOTHER TURNING ONthe lights in my parents’ cabin. I didn’t want my family peering out the windows of Sunny Sunday and wondering what someone was doing down here. I just wanted a moment of peace and quiet. A moment to recalibrate.
The Wi-Fi in Chelsea Morning was, of course, unbearably slow. I was fairly certain my parents hadn’t upgraded the router since they bought it six years ago, caving at last to my siblings’ insistence that we needed internet on the island. I clicked on Outlook, and the application bounced slowly up and down for far too long before finally opening my inbox. After another long minute, the inbox refreshed, showing me all the emails I’d missed in the last few days.
