42. SIMON
SIMON
W alking into Carlos’ apartment is like an out of body experience.
I never saw myself coming back here again, but I didn’t have the strength to deny him.
I move slowly into the open space, and just head straight for the bedroom.
My ribs ache, my back hurts, but not as much as the weight of my soul.
I just had the biggest emotional outburst of my life and I can’t process it.
I remove my shoes, socks, shirt and jeans, just leaving myself in my underwear, and climb into the large welcoming bed, greedily inhaling Carlos’ scent. It's like a warm comfort blanket that my body has been searching for. Safety.
“Simon?” Carlos says as he walks into the room. He undresses down to his underwear too, and joins me under the covers. We lie there, facing each other. The street lights are the only thing that lightens up the dark room. I find it soothing.
“Simon, talk to me.”
“I can’t do this, Carlos. I’m…I’m not okay.”
There it was. Out loud. Three words that tasted like blood and surrender.
Carlos doesn’t speak, just lays there, waiting for me to unload all the shit in my head.
“You are safe with me, Simon.”
“Am I?”
That comment lands like a bomb. Carlos clenches his jaw and I know he wants to say something, but he remains patient.
“I keep thinking about what happened. What they did. I want to scream, but I can’t.
I want to pretend it’s over, that I’m fine, but I’m not.
I wake up shaking. I hear the sound of that fucking whip and his words.
The smells. And I know it wasn’t you, but I can’t stop blaming you.
Blaming you for dragging me into your family's mess, for still wanting me, for making me think I can survive this.”
I move and lay on my back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to the police sirens in the distance. Trying to get out of this neverending cycle.
“I hate that I’m this fucked up. I hate that I’m falling apart. Like I’m dying from the inside and no one sees it.”
The silence after feels endless and I close my eyes, wanting to shield myself from whatever he says.
“You’re not weak. You're just bleeding in places no one can see.”
“How poetic,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
I turn back onto my side and face Carlos again. I really look at him. Those eyes that have killed men. Those hands that have held me like I’m sacred and hurt me with pleasure. The paradox of Carlos Silva: darkness and devotion wrapped in one.
“This isn’t just about what happened last week though, is it?”
“No. It’s hard to pinpoint one thing. Everything is merged together and it’s just easier to blame the current, rather than putting the pieces together.
My parents abandoned me, without a second thought my father took them both without a thought for me.
Foster care hardened me, made me realize you can’t have everything.
There is always a monster wanting to take you down.
That asshole took the first piece of happiness I had in my childhood, and the most fucked up part, is that he didn’t even have to try that hard. ”
“Maybe it’s time to find a way to bury the past. I know you can do it, Simon. Don’t let those who had no thought for you affect your life and what you want. The best way to win against them is to be who you are. Love a man. Live your life. Carry your scars with pride.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
“It is. You just need to try. Only you can take that leap.”
I close my eyes, and absorb this moment with Carlos. He’s right in what he says. But the courage I once had, I can’t find it.
“I just want my life back. The one before all this when I could sleep without nightmares. Banter with the boys and not have them treat me like I’m glass.”
“You will, because I’m with you. I’m not letting you go, Simon. A little trauma isn’t gonna phase me.”
“Still delusional,” I mutter.
“I’m not the one in denial, Si.”
“Carlos?”
“Yeah?”
“Just fucking kiss me,” I say, as I don’t want anything else more.