Chapter 19
Colin was all but useless again at work later that day. Part of it was lack of sleep, but much more was being stupid in love. He gazed out his window at people passing on the streets, aware of a silly grin stretching his face and of a wonderful ache deep in his ass. He hadn’t had anything more than a blowjob in nearly a year, and then there was Hernán.
Talk about diving in at the deep end.
A satisfying throb when he shifted in his Aeron chair made him blush as he remembered Hernán taking him the second time. Even, deep strokes like he was born to fuck had Colin writhing and calling out nonsense. He’d never been the type to yell and squirm wantonly during sex. Maybe I just never had the right lover. Shame at his behavior tangled with his joy.
Ridiculous, impossible plans spiraled through his head. He wanted Hernán to meet his family. Hell, he wanted to be with Hernán in Paris, and stroll down romantic streets arm in arm. Christmas was months away but maybe he could arrange a trip as a surprise?
Hernán said he loves me.
It didn’t seem possible, yet it was everything he’d hoped for since the night he begged Hernán to accept his help as they walked through the Provincetown fog. Besides his useless crush on Brandon, there had been no one Colin felt that way about since Pranav went back to India. And no one, not a single man, had ever said he loved Colin.
Hernán sat stiffly on the balcony next to Colin’s bedroom, a cup of coffee clutched between his hands. He whooshed out a great exhalation. In some ways it felt so right to have gotten with Colin. Taking control, penetrating Colin instead of feeling himself tear, had been liberating and empowering and, frankly, fucking delicious. Even with his ridiculous failure to hold off coming long enough for one stroke, Colin hadn’t seemed to mind.
The laughter they’d shared was one of his favorite parts of the night, er, morning.
And the second time. Well. Hernán was actually proud. The way Colin’s eyes rolled into his head, the filthy things that normally sweet and polite man breathed into his ear as Hernán drove his full length into Colin’s ass, the way Colin sobbed when he came… Oh yes, he might actually be good at the sex thing.
Now what, maricón? The hated voice crept into his head, making him nauseous. Little princess, little fag. How long until you let that culero stick his prick up your ass? You’ve gotten a lot of good stuff out of him already, puto. Better grab more before he gets tired and throws your cheap ass out onto the streets. That’s where you belong anyway, isn’t it?
A wave of nausea hit. Hernán struggled to unhear Abuela and to drown her out by focusing on the wonder of what had happened between Colin and him. Hernán had longed for someone of his own, who would see his soul and not just his face or body, and would say, “Yes. This man is mine.”
He grew up knowing from his grandmother’s words that was impossible. A man who wanted other men was dirty, shameful, weak, and certainly incapable of love. He learned that lesson when she punished him for what the deliveryman had done in his uncle’s shop. Each rap across his knuckles was a painful reminder it was Hernán’s fault, for enticing the man into his sin. When Lonnie claimed him, he understood he was being punished for his own pitiful desires.
Yet the dream never faded entirely. In a tiny, hidden corner of his heart, Hernán kept hoping there was man of honor who would put the lie to Abuela.
Was Colin really that man? Hernán rocked in his chair, agitated and restless as he argued with the voice. Colin seemed to love him; maybe he really thought he did. But they barely knew each other. It had only been a few weeks since they met. More likely it was just a crush on both of their parts. Colin might wake up when that Brandon guy returned, start sniffing around him again, and realize Hernán had nothing to offer him.
The whole afternoon passed that way, even when Hernán went for a workout in the basement of Colin’s building. The gym there had good equipment, so he heaved dumbbells, pushed himself hard, ran six miles on a treadmill… Anything to drown out his noisy thoughts.
Rudy was the only one he could possibly talk to about his distress, but as much as he loved his cousin, he knew that wouldn’t help. Rudy threw himself into relationships after the first night in bed, convinced each time he’d found his Prince Charming, crushed when the man turned out to be uninterested in anything more than sex, undaunted when it came time to try again.
Hernán could imagine Rudy’s advice, and it would involve china patterns or getting tokens of Colin’s affection. None of that was what Hernán wanted.
He wanted Colin.
He didn’t know how to keep him.
Still at war with himself, he made the evening awkward. Colin showed up at six with flowers, and Hernán tried to be gracious. He saw the light in Colin’s eyes dim, though, so he must have fucked up somehow. They made dinner together as usual, but Hernán drank too much. Colin chattered happily through cooking, touching Hernán every time he passed by, until Hernán turned sideways to avoid his hand. Hurt flared on Colin’s face, and Hernán didn’t know how to explain.
I’m not your possession sounded in his head, along with I love you, please don’t give up. When it came time for their ritual of watching TV together, Hernán said, “I’m kind of tired. We didn’t get much sleep last night so I think I’m just going up to bed.”
The disappointed, resigned look in Colin’s eyes was heartbreaking. “Sure, Hernán. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hernán lay in his bed in the dark, unable to relax enough to close his eyes. His head swam unpleasantly from too much liquor before dinner. The cleaning service had changed the sheets, but he thought he could still smell Colin in the pillow.
Eventually Colin turned off the television below and climbed the stairs. He paused by Hernán’s open door but Hernán pretended to be asleep until Colin moved on to his own room. His door clicked shut.
Hernán rolled to his side and punched the pillow in frustration. Why had he told Colin he loved him? He was so exposed, so foolish, to think he could have someone. Sleep was a long time coming.
He joined Colin for breakfast the next morning, pouring himself some coffee before he sat at the table where Colin made his way through a bowl of cereal.
“Good morning,” Colin said awkwardly, and Hernán tried to respond with a grin. It probably looked more like a grimace.
Colin set down his spoon and leaned forward across the table. “Did I do something wrong, Hernán?” he asked seriously.
“No. Nothing.” Hernán shook his head fiercely. This is me fucking up.
“I thought we were… I hoped…” Colin blushed and turned his eyes back to his bowl. “Never mind.”
Shit, shit, shit. Hernán raged at himself. Now I’ve made him think he’s done something, like my craziness is his fault. Fix this!
But he didn’t know how to admit his torment. Colin would think he was insane and end anything between them before it even began. All he could do was distract Colin with a white lie.
He cleared his throat and Colin’s head shot up. “It’s just, it’s been a lot. You know? Telling my story, wondering what the lawyers are going to do with it all. Maybe I’ll have to go over it again and again. It’s got me kind of worked up.”
Colin blinked at him several times. “Oh. You’re upset about the application process?”
Hernán nodded, pleased when relief began to show in Colin’s eyes. Drawn away for the moment from their relationship, Colin talked for the next twenty minutes about how Hernán should feel proud he had survived, the lawyers would do a great job for him and try to minimize how many times he had to talk about it all, and so on.
Hernán was grateful but he felt like screaming, I’m not strong. I’m not proud. I’m ashamed and I’m bad for you.
He insisted on cleaning up their breakfast dishes while Colin finished getting ready for work. A few minutes later, Colin came back downstairs, looking handsome in a gray wool blazer seemingly tailored to his height and lean build. He came over to where Hernán stood in the kitchen and opened his arms with a hopeful look on his face.
Hernán hesitated just a moment before stepping into the warmth and security Colin gave unselfishly. Yes please, he thought. Take me out of my noisy head. Just hold me until I know what to do.
Colin hugged him tightly until Hernán pulled away. “Don’t be late for work,” he said.
“It’s Friday. Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Colin said. “My treat. We’ve eaten in almost every night.” Hernán bit his lip but jerked his head in a quick nod. Colin smiled and gave him a kiss before he left.
To distract himself from his agitation over what the fuck he was doing to mess up Colin’s life, Hernán settled down with the sample immigration papers Colin had brought home for him to study. He wrote in pencil on a blank form as the lawyer Sofia had requested. She’d have the final version prepared neatly, but having him draft the answers by hand was more efficient than going over each question together.
Spotting the form for the medical evaluation he would need, he recalled he was overdue to pick up the copy he’d left with the doctor where Colin had sent him. He picked up his phone to check whether it was ready. The doctor’s receptionist placed him on hold briefly, and then came back on the line to ask if he could come by the office at two.
After another basement workout and lunch, Hernán was less sure than ever what to do about Colin. There was no question what he wanted. He wanted Colin to love him. He wanted to spend every night in Colin’s bed and learn all the ways to please him. He wanted to hide away from every doubt in his head until they couldn’t even find him. He wanted to silence Abuela’s voice in his head forever.
But what did Colin need with a worthless turd like him?
The struggle continued in his mind as he waited in the doctor’s office. Eventually a nurse showed him into an examining room, so much nicer than any he ever saw in San Marcos. A few minutes later, Dr. McCracken bustled in, a folder in one hand and a laptop in the other. His blond hair merged into gray at his temples. Under his white coat he wore a nice shirt with bright pink checks.
Seating himself on a rolling stool, the doctor opened his laptop, typed a few things, and then glanced down at the folder. Looking up at Hernán, he blinked owlishly and said, “Thank you for coming in again, Mr. Portillo.”
“Please, just Hernán.”
Dr. McCracken nodded. He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the folder. Silence stretched.
The first tinge of alarm crept up Hernán’s spine.
When the doctor spoke again, his voice was rough. “Hernán, you know we ran a wide battery of tests. We always do in a physical. Most of yours came back just fine.” He hesitated again, and Hernán closed his eyes. He already knew. “The thing is, you’ve tested positive for exposure to HIV.”
The world fell away beneath him.