5. Luis
Chapter five
Luis
Luis was still thinking about the way Darius had pretended to be asleep that morning when they landed at JFK for an hour layover before continuing on to Brussels. The lack of messages from Darius was a dead giveaway that something wasn’t sitting right with his best friend, and Luis was pretty sure he knew what it was.
As he stood in the rear galley watching passengers depart, Luis contemplated texting Darius to check in with him but decided to wait. He was giving Darius space. Right. Space. Luis knew damn well he was lying to himself. He’d seen the way Darius looked at him the night before, and the worry, the concern, and above all, the distrust were so familiar to him, he couldn’t bear the thought of addressing it.
He knew he had to, though, because Luis knew what had put those doubts in Darius’ head, just like he knew good goddamn well what had happened to him the night of Marissa’s quincea?era party. He’d lied to Darius back then and was still lying because of it, and fuck Andrés for the shit he’d done and how it kept blindsiding Luis.
“Hey, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” Paul angled his way beside Luis as the galley door opened to admit the catering service with their prefilled beverage and food trollies. The older flight attendant was one of Luis’ favorite coworkers because he acted like a den mother to the younger crew members and protected them from overly friendly passengers. Not to mention, he was a riot at karaoke nights.
Luis shook his head and plastered a smile on his face. “I’m fine.”
A raised eyebrow indicated Paul’s skepticism. “Yeah, that and a bag of chips will get you nowhere, sugar. You look like someone ran over your dog. You and Darius had a fight?”
The final passengers whose destination had been JFK deplaned, and Luis turned his attention to setting up the galley for the flight to Brussels.
“Not really a fight,” he said.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Luis threw Paul a scowl over his shoulder, and the older man laughed. “Yeah, I know, sweetie, you’re just friends. Except both you and I know there ain’t no ‘just’ about it when it comes to Darius.”
Luis rested his hands on the counter and hung his head. “I fucked up.”
“Do tell.” Paul stepped fully into the galley space and took the manifest from one of the catering guys. “Did everyone order a special meal on this flight?” he asked, and the other guy laughed as the first container was rolled into the galley. Paul nudged Luis aside with his hip and nodded toward the last row of seats while he started locking containers into place.
Balancing on the armrest of the aisle seat, Luis watched as Paul deftly loaded the galley for the next leg of their flight. He was aware the other man was waiting for him to speak, but really, where did Luis start?
“I flipped out over a guy from my past coming around again.”
“Former boyfriend?”
“Oh, hell no.”
Paul eyed Luis with a knowing glance. “Not a crush either, I take it.”
When Luis looked down and shook his head, Paul left the galley and sat across from Luis. He took Luis’ hands in his own, and Luis fought back tears as their warmth enveloped his suddenly ice-cold fingers. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do. And it sucks. How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Luis’ voice was more breath than sound, but Paul heard it just the same.
“I was twelve.”
Luis looked up, and the two of them held each other’s gaze, quietly comforting each other as the cleaning crew and catering people bustled around them. A passenger came back to the galley, interrupting the moment, but Paul shook his head and told him the galley was closed while they restocked. The passenger frowned, gave Luis a strange look, but Luis didn’t care. He wished Paul could give him a hug right now because he truly felt like he was hanging on to any semblance of composure by his fingernails.
Almost as soon as he thought it, Paul stood and pulled Luis into the corner of the galley away from the open hatch door and wrapped him in his arms. “You haven’t told Darius, have you?” he asked.
“No.” Luis let out a shaky breath. “It’s a long story, but he thinks I don’t remember anything from that night because that’s what I told him.”
“But you do.”
A shudder rippled through Luis. “I remember every goddamned thing.”
They were quiet for a moment, and then Paul suggested Luis go lie down in the crew loft until the passengers started boarding for the flight to Brussels.
Luis considered it, but it would mean being alone with his thoughts, and that wouldn’t do him any good. So, he did what he’d been doing every day since he was sixteen. He took a deep breath, shoved the shit Andrés had done to him to the back corner of his mind, and got on with his job.
They landed in Brussels at six in the morning the next day. Luis had gotten some sleep in the crew loft after they’d served dinner, but he was grateful to make it to the flight crew’s hotel, where he could shower and collapse into bed.
At Paul’s suggestion, they shared a room, and Luis was at once grateful and chagrined that, once again, he was the fragile one, the one who needed special handling lest he fall apart, the one people cared about because he was damaged. And he resented the part of himself that needed Paul’s attention and care right now because all of that was true. He was fragile, he always felt like he was about to fall apart, and the damage was obvious even when he didn’t say a thing. People seemed to sense his hidden wounds, either to exploit like the assholes who flocked to him, knowing he’d lap up their attention like a kitten with a bowl of cream or, like Darius and Paul, because they were caretakers and knew he needed them.
I am not in a good space , Luis thought as he stood under the shower spray and let the grit of a seventeen-hour flight wash down the drain. He wished he could let the shame and humiliation wash away just as easily because the truth was he had had a crush on Andrés back then. When Gabriella introduced this model-gorgeous blond to the family, Luis had had a moment of clarity, a sudden recognition that he was attracted to guys.
Fear of his family’s reaction kept him pretending to be straight, even to his best friend. His crush died as soon as he got to know Andrés, but his feelings for Darius shifted in confusing ways as he tried to work out how to tell him how he felt without jeopardizing their friendship. The night of Marissa’s quincea?era, the Molly had caused him to finally act, and he’d kissed Darius before he could stop himself. The effect of that kiss had been a mind-blowing, life-altering explosion. Even now, Luis had no idea how he had failed to recognize that what he felt for Darius was love, but that kiss had shown him the truth. When they’d fallen asleep that night, his thoughts filled with what it would be like to be Darius’ boyfriend. Then he’d woken up needing to piss, and Andrés had followed him to the bathroom, pinned him against the wall, and…
A sob escaped Luis’ mouth, and then another, and another. ?Santo Dios! What was wrong with him? Why, after all this time, was this… thing …threatening to overwhelm him? He could almost feel himself being physically taken back into his parents’ bathroom, where Andrés’ hands touched him like he’d dreamed Darius would. The Molly, combined with his newly exposed feelings, had confused him, and he hadn’t pushed Andrés away like he should have, hadn’t yelled, hadn’t fought back. Just took it like the fragile, weak creature he was.
“Fuck!” This time, Luis shouted and slapped his hand against the shower stall, the sting of it helping stem the tide of memories that threatened to overwhelm him.
A soft knock on the door brought Luis out of his spiral. “Are you okay?” Paul asked, and Luis blessed his protective instincts while he called back that he’d be right out.
Luis finished up in the shower, slipped into a pair of shorts and a tank top, and stepped back into the room. Paul had pulled the curtains shut to make the room as dark as possible and was lying on his bed, watching TV. He offered to turn it off, but Luis told him not to worry about it. Between the night at the club, the blowup with his mom, and the twenty-plus hours since he’d woken at five in LA, he was exhausted. It crossed his mind to warn Paul that he might have nightmares, but he was asleep before he got the words out of his mouth.
The room was empty when Luis woke several hours later. Paul had left a note on the nightstand telling Luis he’d gone down to the hotel café about five, which, when Luis checked his phone, was only about an hour ago. Luis also noticed that he had several texts from Darius. They were all of the general “good morning, hope you had a good flight” variety, and Luis texted back that the flight had been fine and he was about to head out for dinner. Then he texted Paul that he was on his way to join him downstairs.
Paul had promised not to push or ask questions, and he stayed true to his word as they wandered the streets of the Saint-Jacque district in search of a place to eat. It was a beautiful and peaceful evening, and Paul looped his arm through Luis’ as they walked and sighed as he nodded at a couple of attractive young men.
“No offense to my present company,” he said, “but someday I hope to find a man who will travel with me to all the places I’ve only passed through and explore them with me.”
“Any current prospects?” Luis asked.
“Alas, no. I have not been lucky like young Gregory and his gallant, silver-haired lover.”
Luis laughed, “Yeah. I know what you mean. We barely see him anymore.”
“At least you have the love of your life,” Paul looked at him. “Don’t deny it. Anyone with eyes knows the two of you are going to end up together once you get your heads out of your asses.”
It was on the tip of Luis’ tongue to protest, to give the standard response that he and Darius were just friends, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
“It’s not that simple,” Luis said.
“Honey, it is that simple,” Paul responded, but he let the matter drop.
They turned down a cobbled alley and wandered through to another main road, where they found a little café and took a table on the sidewalk. The evening was beautiful, and the Saint-Jacque district was the perfect place to be with plenty of queer-friendly restaurants and shops. The people-watching was wonderful, the food was delicious, and Luis felt himself relax for the first time since Andrés knocked on his door.
The waiter brought them a second glass of wine, and Luis took a sip as he stared at a couple of guys walking arm in arm, then focused on a man and a woman holding hands as they stopped to window-shop. He put his glass on the table, still watching the couples.
“I think the worst part of it,” he said, “is that I feel like I did something wrong, and I don’t trust myself not to do it again.”
Paul nodded but didn’t say anything as he finished chewing and swallowed, then took a sip of his own wine.
“I know it isn’t helpful to say it wasn’t about you, but it wasn’t.”
“That only makes it worse,” Luis said and focused on Paul. “Because it was about me. Something about me made him think he could do that, and it’s still there because as soon as he was out of jail, he came back around, and I want to know what it is so I can stop doing it or being it. I’m tired of being hurt and damaged and someone who needs to be taken care of.” Luis stopped and bit down on the inside of his cheek because tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks, and he didn’t want to feel so weak and vulnerable. He clenched his fist. “I want to be strong.”
Paul reached out and put his hand over Luis’s, his fingers stroking softly over Luis’s whitened knuckles. “I’m pretty sure Darius doesn’t see you as anything but strong and capable. He doesn’t take care of you because he thinks you’re weak or damaged. He takes care of you because he loves you. Do you think I’m here because you’re incapable of taking care of yourself or can’t handle what’s going on? Luis, you’ve been doing all that on your own since you were sixteen.”
Unable to hold back the threatened tears, Luis ducked his head and drew in a deep, snuffling breath. “I want to believe that,” he said in a small voice.
Paul scooted his chair closer to Luis and wrapped his arms around him. If Luis was on the verge of breaking down, the words Paul whispered in his ear did him in. “Honey, it’s true whether you believe it or not. And if I can see it, I guarantee Darius does, too, but as long as you keep pushing him away, you let this bastard win. Stop letting him win.”
With his face buried against Paul’s shoulder, Luis felt hidden from public view and let his tears flow freely. When a sob threatened to break free, he pressed his mouth harder against the muscles of Paul’s upper arm. It felt like his very core was on fire, burning from the pit of his stomach through the middle of his chest and into his throat, but it wasn’t painful. It was cleansing. For the first time in a long time, Luis felt fully seen, fully heard, fully real.
“Let yourself feel it,” Paul whispered. “And let it go.”
Luis nodded but kept holding onto Paul until he could breathe normally again, and then he sat back, wiping at his eyes and laughing a little self-consciously at how spectacularly he’d broken down. “Thank you,” he whispered as he reached for his napkin and wiped the remaining moisture from his face. He blew out a breath.
Shifting his chair back to its original position, Paul smiled at him. “Anytime, sweetheart.” He cocked his head to the side. “You think you’re weak, but do you know how strong you have to be to keep all that bottled up and still function?”
Luis waved a hand at him. “Stop. Please. I’ll lose it again if you keep talking like that.” He let out another breath. “How’d you get so smart?”
“Lots and lots and lots of therapy, plus a degree in psych.” Paul laughed and Luis joined him.
“Fuck. I could really use some chocolate right now.”
Luckily, they were in a great city for someone in need of a chocolate fix, and they spent the rest of the afternoon going from one shop to another. Luis texted Darius and sent him pictures of the elaborate confections they found while he weighed the pros and cons of telling Darius how deeply he was in love with him. He wouldn’t do it until they were back in LA together, but the more they chatted, the more Luis knew it was time to stop hiding his feelings from his best friend.
“You look like a man in love,” Paul said to him as they walked back to their hotel. “You’re glowing, and I am incredibly jealous.”
“It’s all the endorphins from the chocolate,” Luis said. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds today.” He linked his arm with Paul’s. “Thank you. I know this doesn’t solve all my problems, but you’re right. I’ve been letting Andrés keep me from living my life for too long.”
“It’s not a problem, Luis. It’s a part of your history that has made you who you are. A part, not the whole thing.”
Luis laughed. “You should have become a therapist.”
He’d meant it to be a lighthearted comment, and Paul smiled in response, but Luis felt him shrink into himself a bit and knew there was something that had kept the older man from continuing on that path. It wasn’t his place to pry. Paul had given him space to open up, so Luis did the same for him. He squeezed Paul’s arm, hoping that his willingness to return the favor was understood.
“Did you bring your dancing clothes?” Luis asked.
“Of course. You asking me out on a date?” Paul bumped his hip against Luis and gave him such an overtly flirtatious wink that both of them laughed.
“You wish, but I’m spoken for.” And as if Darius had heard him, Luis’ phone buzzed with an incoming text.