Barricades Page 3

  “Yes?” he answered with hesitation in his voice. I wanted to give him a towel, and the only one I had was wet, but he thanked me anyway. I closed the door, but opened it a moment later. His surprised face shot out from the curtain.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, and laughed as I realized it was a bit late to ask that question.

  He blushed and bit his lip, embarrassed. “Orestis.”

  I closed the door and headed to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee. I put on some music and sat back on my chair, looking at the light blue veil of the sky with no hint of autumn in late September.

  When the bathroom door opened, he appeared with the towel on his head, drying his hair. He picked up his clothes, put on his underwear, and stared at me.

  “I want to ask you something.” His voice wavered and his gaze wandered from the window to the ceiling as he sat on the bed.

  “Okay.”

  “Well…,” he stuttered, “what would you say if I told you that I wanted to see you again?”

  “Look,” I started, but he cut me off.

  “You said no before, I know, but you give off so many mixed messages, so maybe….” He hid his hands under his thighs, trying to look serious, but his skin turned red and gave away his nervousness.

  “About that….”

  “Do you want to give it a shot and see where it takes us?” he interrupted me again. My vision blurred for a moment as I tried to perceive what he was saying. He felt the same way. I didn’t have to ask.

  “Let me speak.” I laughed.

  “Yes. Sorry. Go ahead. Say it.”

  “I was thinking the same.”

  His face softened, and his chest flattened as if he’d released a ton of air from his lungs. “Really?” His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

  I stood up, approached him, and touched my forehead to his. “I went crazy this past week,” I whispered. “Every freaking second was filled with regret.” In an inner argument, I considered showing him my sketchbook full of unfinished drawings of him.

  He gave me a kiss, and I touched his face, reciprocating. Sinking into the moment, I lingered on his lips, focusing on his tongue. Staying on our feet seemed unnecessary, so we lay on the bed, tangling our legs. In slow motion, his fingers touched every millimeter of my face, like a blind man trying to see with his touch. Orestis shrugged and sniggered, like a little kid doing something forbidden.

  “How did you find me?” I asked, massaging his earlobe.

  “Who said I found you?” He chuckled and looked away. “Okay, maybe I was stalking you on Facebook.”

  I tried not to burst into laughter. “I’m happy you did.” I rubbed my temple on his prickly chin. “What did you find out?”

  “Hmmm… you look better in person.”

  “Why didn’t you send me a request?”

  “Who was the one who rejected my offer to meet again with the scent of my spunk still on his hand?” he protested.

  “Fair enough.”

  He shrugged. “We are here now.” His lips found my forehead, placing a kiss between my eyebrows. “Tell me about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know, anything…. Everything,” he said. “Do you have siblings?”

  “One sister. You?”

  “I’m an only child.”

  I wrapped my arm around him as we went on sharing insignificant but basic information about each other. After some time, I sat up and lit another cigarette, offering him coffee.

  “It won’t be easy,” I exhaled.

  “What?”

  “Can you imagine what will happen if you and I, this”—I motioned my finger between us —“develops into something serious?”

  “I imagine something beautiful, don’t you?”

  I laughed. “In an ideal world, yes.”

  “Is that why you left me cold that night?” He raised his body, resting on his elbow, and frowned.

  I opened my mouth but never got the chance to say anything.

  “I won’t accept it, Emir. This”—he moved his finger, imitating my previous movement—“is between you and me. I’m not asking permission to fall in love, and it’s nobody’s business who I fall for.”

  I shot him a wide smile. “Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”

  “No.” His face softened. “Maybe… maybe I see a possibility and I won’t deny it.” He pinched my chin. “I don’t feel like hiding.”

  “Maybe… I feel the same.”

  Orestis

  DRIVING ON the highway back home, I couldn’t stop cringing at the memory of our talk about love. What was I thinking? I’d just blurted out whatever had come to my mind and almost said that I had fallen in love with him. It wasn’t a complete lie…. While in the shower, I was determined to be honest to save myself from heartbreak. I was certain Emir would reject me again, say he wanted to be fuck buddies, or laugh at me and kick me out. I was prepared to pick up the remnants of my self-respect and leave, to forget about him. The endless cuddling wasn’t in my plans, and neither was the casual conversation that came after. When it was time to leave, he had suggested walking me to the green line, but I refused. I wanted to end our encounter with intimacy, and the barricade was the last place we should be intimate.

  Halfway on my way back to Limassol, I realized my phone didn’t have any signal. Probably never returned after I passed to the south. It buzzed as soon as I restarted the device and the word “mom” appeared on the screen.

  “Orestis?” Her voice trembled.

  “Yes?”

  “Jesus Christ, are you okay? Where have you been?”

  “I was with a friend.” I hadn’t told her I’d left. In fact, I’d never thought about her at all.

  Her sobs filled the line, and I barely understood what she was ranting about.

  “Mama, calm down,” I said.

  She was crying and my dad was screaming in the background. I hung up.

  Okay, I get it, she was scared. I had never left home like that or spent the night out before. I had been away for a night and a day with my phone unreachable. My phone buzzed again, but I didn’t answer. Instead I texted her.

  I’m driving. Be there in 30.

  There was no reply. I guess living in my parents’ house gave them rights to meddle in my life. Saying we were on bad terms would be an understatement. The only reason I was talking to them was because I was living in the same house. I was planning to move out soon, even if it meant going hungry. With half my salary going to my car loan, I couldn’t do much. Maybe after I’d paid off my car, I’d be able to find a place, move out, and never have to see them again.

  WHEN I got home, they were both furious, attacking me with words. Silence was my only option. I wasn’t listening. I kept my poker face, waiting, until words like “faggot” and “getting your ass fucked” made me snap. I threw my head back.

  Anger got the best of me and I saw red. “Actually,” I shouted, and it was their turn to shut up and listen, “this faggot”—I pointed at myself—“was deep in another ass not very long ago. It was so good he forgot you even existed.”

  My dad’s jaw dropped, and my mom stared in disbelief. My father smacked my cheek with full force, and the ringing of the slap filled the room. Opening my mouth made a cracking sound, numbing me. I didn’t even look at him. I had always been afraid of him, but that didn’t stop me from reciprocating his insults, even if it meant I’d get beaten. I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, stormed to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. My cheek throbbed, red and swollen.

  Once I connected to the internet, Emir’s picture appeared on the top right of my screen.

  You have the yummiest butt I’ve ever seen. Can’t wait to bury my face in there.

  And with that, our next meeting was determined. Thinking about it made me hard, forgetting my douchebag of a father. This ray of happiness was short-lived when Dad opened the door.

  “Listen to me, in this house there are rules, my ru
les, and you’d better start obeying or get the hell out of here.” His jaw clenched and he frowned in disgust.

  “I will….” I muttered.

  He approached and bent over me, shaking my shoulder. “When I speak, you will look at me. This is my house, and as long as you live here, you’ll do as I say.”

  “As long as you are alive.” I looked up to him, mirroring his disgusted face.

  He spat and saliva found the corner of my eye. “Ungrateful piece of shit,” he hissed. “You bring shame to the family. If I was another parent, you would have been kicked out already.”

  I snorted. “This is not the eighties, George!” I said, stretching my voice at his name. “In 2017, people will point a hundred times more fingers at you if you kicked your son out of the house for being gay, and you know it!”

  His face turned plum, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for a punch or maybe a bullet. Instead, I jolted to the slam of the door. I stood up and locked it. I couldn’t take any more shit that night. Holding the ice pack on my cheek, I slid down, sat on the floor, and leaned against the door as my eyes brimmed with tears.

  I couldn’t remember how many times he’d used me as a punching bag to vent steam. When he found out about my sexuality, it became his focal point, as if he was trying to beat the gayness out of me. I guess finding his son in bed with another boy shattered his parental dream.

  Poor John, my first lover; he was scared to death when my father opened the door and found him straddling me with his clothes still on. It was a matter of luck that my dad didn’t come in five minutes later. It was also a matter of bad luck that he forgot his phone charger that day. I never saw John again after George kicked him out and turned me black and blue. His sadistic tendencies weren’t the worst of it. I despised my apathetic mother for always staying silent or agreeing with him, even when he was completely irrational.

  Wiping my tears, I got on my bed and Skyped Alex. His expression darkened when he saw my face.

  “I can’t take this anymore,” I sobbed, tears flowing again. “I don’t have anywhere to go when things go south.”

  He sighed. “Come here.” He remained serious as I snorted and gave a faint smile. “Book a ticket, pack your things, and come.”

  I shook my head. “No, I can’t.”

  “I’ll lend you the money, dude.”

  “Money isn’t the issue.” I faced the ceiling, exhaling hard. “What would I do there? Depend on you and Nick?”

  “At the beginning,” he said.

  “No…. Leaving is not a solution.” I was weak, and I knew it. I had to stop depending on Alex. “Besides,” I added, “something happened.” I tried to turn the conversation toward a happy direction. Silence reigned for a moment. “Remember Emir?”

  His eyes opened wide. “Yes….”

  “Last night….”

  “You son of a bitch,” Alex shouted. “How? When?”

  Talking with Alex could turn my mood around in a matter of seconds. I went right into the details and told him everything from Emir’s Facebook check-in, to my coming back home and the argument with my parents.

  “Dude, are you sure?” he asked, concerned.

  “About what?”

  “Are you ready to confront your father if he finds out?”

  “I’ll never be ready to confront him about Emir. He hates me. Alex, this man hates me. He will never accept me, and to be honest, I don’t want him to. I’ll just have to move out as soon as possible. Maybe sleep in the car, I don’t know….”

  “And how will you clean your ass on Saturday?” he asked, bursting into laughter. Nicolas’s sleepy face appeared, snuggling him. That demon called jealousy emerged again, and I knew I had to go.

  “I’m off, bitches. There’s a boy waiting to be won over.” I pulled an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear, waving good night.

  I would never admit it to anyone, but I used to have a crush on Alex. He’d always been more than just a friend to me. When Nicolas appeared in his life during our military service, I was shaken, but Alex had always made me a priority. What they had was so powerful and unique, anyone would be envious.

  I opened the chat, reread Emir’s message, and replied: I want to taste every inch of you.

  Taking off my clothes, I lay on my bed and looked at the picture we’d taken together hours ago in his room.

  Took you an awfully long time to reply. He added a sulking emoji.

  I was busy fighting with my father.

  Why?

  Because he is an ass. Can I see you?

  He video-called me, and every drop of stress drifted away. I made sure not to show my swollen cheek on the camera.

  “I knew you wore glasses,” he said. “Looks good on you.”

  “Really? You look even better when I have them on.” I tittered, looking down, unable to believe the cheesiness in my words.

  He tapped his lips. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Huh?” I laughed. “Why?”

  “Just asking….”

  “Umm, pasta. Bolognese.”

  “Mine is seafood.”

  “Seafood?”

  “Any kind.” He smiled. “Favorite movie?”

  “Pan’s Labyrinth.” I didn’t even have to think about that.

  “Mine too!” he shouted, surprised.

  “I love all Del Toro’s movies.”

  “I can’t wait for the new one to come out.”

  “The Shape of Water?” I asked. “It won’t be released in Cyprus till January or February.”

  “Sucks! Why do we always have to wait more than the rest of the world?”

  I snorted. “Beats me…. Hey, when it comes out, let’s watch it together.”

  Emir paused for a moment with a faint smirk across his face. “Deal,” he whispered.

  The game of questions and the conversation about movies ended when I noticed it was three, and I had to wake up at eight.

  Orestis

  FROM SEPTEMBER’S lust to December’s love, from club dances to stargazing trips, from carnal satisfaction to endless bed cuddles, from twinkling green gems to…. Well, that didn’t change. His eyes never failed to weaken my knees.

  We video-called every weeknight, texted all day, met on Saturday, kissed goodbye on Sunday, and repeat. The talks we’d had about love that first Sunday afternoon seemed ridiculous now. Our chemistry nurtured our relationship, and it bloomed.

  Introducing me to his telescope one evening in October, he showed me the Draconids way better than they could be seen with the naked eye during the full moon. He said that the circumstances weren’t ideal, but I disagreed. We decided to visit the same light-free hill for every meteor shower. We viewed the Orionids lying on the ground with his arm around me. He sat between my legs as I rested my chin on his head, hoping in vain to see the Taurids. Immersing in passionate encounters under the full moon wasn’t bad at all. Our Leonids viewing was cancelled because of clouds covering the sky.

  We’d never go to clubs or bars or cafeterias. Craving privacy and intimacy in our short meetings, we would watch a movie while eating ice cream using the same spoon, as if we were starring in a Hollywood rom-com, or listen to music while munching on sunflower seeds. One night in early November, we drove to Famagusta beaches and skinny-dipped after midnight. Our dicks shrank in the ice-cold water and I caught a cold.

  Christmas was around the corner. My head was spinning from the constant repeat of seasonal songs. The tacky decorations had me wishing I were blind.

  “Orestis!” Irene, my manager, called out and handed me a game controller. “Take this to register one to be shipped tomorrow morning.”

  I walked to the cashier, who gave me a file for the electronics department. While I was running back to my manager, someone came out of an aisle, startling me, and I stilled. The file fell from my hands, scattering papers all over the place.

  “Hello, babe.” Emir’s smile was wider than ever. What did I say about wishing to be blind? Scratch that. I wa
nt to look at this magic forever. I took a moment to recover from the shock, and I cracked a smile.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice squeaked, and I gave him a hug with one arm. I took a second to brush my face on his neck, inhaling deep and savoring his scent. I pulled back and started picking up the papers from the floor.

  “Surprise,” he said and crouched along with me.

  “What are you doing?” Irene hissed between her teeth.

  I turned to look at her. “Umm, I dropped the file?” I lifted my eyebrow.

  She bent over my head and whispered, “Don’t let customers pick up your mess.”

  Emir stared at her, as if he was trying to understand what she was saying. I smiled and winked at him as we stood up.

  “Oh, he is not a customer,” I stated, handing the file to her. “He is my… friend?” I added a questioning lilt on the word friend and shrugged, waiting for her reaction.

  “Oh.” Her eyes bulged, and her mouth gaped.

  “I’ll be waiting in the cafeteria,” Emir mumbled.

  “Give me forty-five minutes.”

  He nodded and walked out of the store.

  “Close your mouth or a fly might get in,” I joked.

  “That’s so unfair.” She shook her head. “All the pretty ones are gay.”

  I snorted. “Enough with your stereotypes.”

  “But it’s true,” she whined.

  “Then why did I spend all my life thinking the exact opposite?”

  “Touché. What’s his name?” she asked as we walked back to our station.

  I gave her a sly smile and closed the imaginary zipper on my mouth. She was cool with my sexuality, but chances were, she wouldn’t be fine with my Turkish-Cypriot boyfriend.

  Emir

  LOOKING AT his face morphing in surprise gave me great satisfaction. My heart raced when he hugged me, trying to be casual while his whole body trembled. For more than two months, I’d put up with a few hours a week. Every time the connection got a little bit more than skin deep, he had to leave. Torturing myself with a long-distance relationship was one of my concerns at the beginning, but I’d have a solution for that. I’d cut the lease to my apartment and gradually packed everything in my car when my request to attend the artists’ Christmas fair here in Limassol was accepted. I thought that it was the best opportunity for a trial cohabitation. Besides, I’d been getting sick of Nicosia and I could always return to my parents if I wanted to.