Page 51 of A Life Imagined
They found a deserted rest stop just outside of Forst and removed the men from their hiding spaces.It was still a day’s drive to Calais, but the mood was significantly more buoyant than it had been only an hour before.True to his word, Rayan—barely able to keep himself upright—passed out as soon as they were back on the road.
He woke several hours later to the rumbling of his own stomach.They stopped for food in Hanover and then pushed through to France.It was evening when they finally made it back to Calais.Mathias parked the truck outside the entrance to the Jungle, and he and Rayan walked the men into the camp.
“This is where you go every day?”Mathias muttered as they made their way down the dimly lit path that cut through the center of the encampment.A group of children ran past in mud-splattered clothes.
Rayan glanced at him curiously.“Were you expecting something different?”
Mathias wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.He’d seen photos in the paper and images on television, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it was like in person.The noise, the smell.The sheer number of people crammed together like sardines in a sea of shoddily constructed shelters.
They reached a turnoff, and Saif and Ibrahim said their goodbyes and left for the other side of the camp.Hayat gripped Mathias’s hand with a silent smile, then Rayan’s, before disappearing into a nearby cluster of tents.Rayan led them to a portable steel cabin bearing the name of the migrant center on the front door.He pulled open the door, and there came a shriek from inside.Farhan’s daughters flew down the steps and launched themselves into their father’s arms.Farhan dropped to his knees and pressed the two girls to his chest, tears forming in his eyes.He pulled back to smooth their hair and spoke rapidly in a low murmur as they nodded along, smiles splitting their faces.
Mathias saw the way Rayan’s expression softened, and in that moment, the past few grueling days were somehow worth it.Someone from the service office appeared in the door to the cabin, and Rayan turned to speak with them.Mathias felt a tug on his sleeve.He looked down to see the younger girl staring up at him.She stuck out her chin and said something he didn’t understand.
“She says she remembers you,” Farhan translated as he got to his feet.
Mathias recalled how she’d dug her nails into his skin, determined to live.She was scrappy, a fighter.He could appreciate that.The girl released his sleeve and skipped over to her sister.
“They had Amina and Zahra stay at the office to be safe,” Rayan said when he rejoined them.“Someone kept an eye on your tent so you can return there tonight.”
Farhan pulled Rayan into a tight embrace.When he broke away, they spoke briefly in muted voices before the girls swarmed Rayan, tugging at his wrists with questions.
Farhan held out his hand to Mathias, and he took it.“Thank you,” he said, clasping Mathias’s hand in both of his.“For saving me and my daughters.I’m forever in your debt.”
“That’s not a place you want to be,” Mathias said, dismissing the sentiment with a shake of his head.“We’re square.”
After all, he hadn’t done it for Farhan.He’d done it for the man standing before them, a little girl swinging from each hand.
They returned to the house, exhaustion settling in.Mathias brushed past Rayan in the doorway to the bedroom, and then their hands were on each other.It felt like weeks since they’d touched.They tumbled onto the bed, kissing, and then the urgency melted away, leaving behind a weary desire.They lay together, unfastening buckles and tugging out of clothes, unfazed by the dishevelment of three days on the road.
Neither of them was in the mood for games, both simply wanting the comfort of a familiar body.Face-to-face on their sides, they gripped one another and moved in tandem, relying on hands alone, only needing to take the edge off.
Tired, Mathias was impatient and efficient.Rayan matched the man’s pace, yet even with his focus split, he was there too soon.He tried to catch his breath, tried to bring the swell of pleasure under control, but Mathias’s fist around his cock laid waste to all remaining restraint.
His own hand stilled as he teetered on the brink, and Mathias slowed to draw it from him, gray eyes fixed on his as he pushed Rayan over the edge.The growl of release that erupted from Rayan’s throat was enough to finish Mathias, and they both fell back onto the bed, panting.
Rayan leaned in to kiss him, their open-mouthed hunger fading to a soft brush of lips.Mathias rolled onto his back, and Rayan rested his head on the man’s chest.He closed his eyes, sleep pulling at his heavy limbs.
“I saw you with the girls,” Mathias said into the silence.His voice sounded far away.“I didn’t know that was something you wanted.”
Rayan opened his eyes, struck by Mathias’s candor.It was a subject that had never come up, rendered fraught by their respective histories.
“No,” he said quietly.“I’ve never wanted that.”His childhood had left him with little faith in the institution of parenting.“What about you?”
“If I accomplish one thing in this lifetime, it will be to avoid that nightmare altogether.”
Rayan stroked his fingers across the unfamiliar stubble that lined Mathias’s jaw.“Your mother will be sad to hear it.”
“Oh, she knows.”
Rayan lay watching Mathias after he’d fallen asleep.At the camp, Mathias had exhibited an obvious discomfort at Amina’s interest in him.Yet he’d pulled the children from the water like it was nothing.He possessed a kind of practical protectiveness that ran counter to his indifference.Rayan saw it in the way he handled his mother.As charged as their relationship was, Mathias continued to provide for her—reluctantly but consistently.
Gently, he pushed Mathias’s hair back from his forehead.The fact that they were here together like this defied any logic.It was a clear departure from what his life had taught him to expect.
Rayan couldn’t remember when he’d first started going to the clubs in the Village.But he knew what had brought him there—years of repressed desire and a loneliness that threatened to choke him.It would have been around the time his brother was working for Bastien.Tahir would disappear for days on end, releasing Rayan from his duties as his brother’s keeper.
Initially, Rayan didn’t go home with anyone.He preferred to retreat to the back rooms and fumble about in the dark.He fucked several men before he let someone fuck him, no longer able to ignore the pull he felt while watching them moan and writhe beneath him.The first time was with a man named Clément.He was in his late twenties, handsome, and friendly and had invited Rayan back to his apartment downtown.While Clément proved generous and accommodating in his instruction, Rayan found the experience tepid.He didn’t want to be asked what he liked or how it felt or whether it was too much.He wanted someone to make those decisions for him.He wanted someone to own him.Only when he got close to that feeling did everything else begin to fade.
Afterward, when Rayan moved to leave, Clément asked him to stay.The following morning, he made him breakfast and gave Rayan his number.They saw each other regularly for several weeks, always at Clément’s apartment.Sometimes the man cooked for him, or they would lounge around in bed while Rayan deflected questions about his life, sliding the truth out of view.Rayan had thought plenty about sex but not about the rest—the sharing of food and company, of feelings and expectations.He’d determined early on that he wasn’t destined to enjoy the simplicities of life that came so easy to others.But those nights with Clément challenged his conviction.
