Ch 25 The Journey

Was love at first sight possible?  How different would he feel tomorrow?

Triston looked his new friend Vincent in the eye as they sat at the bar having a post orgasm drink.  They had met hours before at a dinner party, fooled around in the bedroom against the back of the door, and finally made it to the bar for some kind of celebration. 

He often thought that dating was like two particles of an opposite charge trying to find each other in a crowded field.  Each particle was pulled in different directions and yet when they got close enough there was something between them.  He had felt it before, had many good relationships out of that attraction, some became friends, others he might not see again, but when there is a bond it is hard to deny. 

It wasn’t just that Vincent was handsome because he was.  It wasn’t just that they were about the same age or that Vincent seemed to have a good job, dress well, and had an easy confidence.  It wasn’t just the warmth of his hands or the size of his dick. 

Just being apart a few feet to use the restroom, entertain a friend in another room, or when they were leaving felt wrong.  They had so much in common.  Vincent wasn’t like anyone else.  He wasn’t like Walter who had decided he needed to explore on his own.  Triston had thought that relationship was doomed from the start.  Not doomed, but finite, as if it only had one meaning.  He was there to help Walter experiment and find comfort, to be accepted, and it was time for them both to move on to something, someone, else.

“We’ve been having such a good time but there’s something I have to tell you.  I don’t want to ruin this.”

The words stole the breath from Triston’s lungs and he had to close his eyes for a moment to focus on the present without imagining the future.  He had an immediate suspicion about what was going to be said.  There was only one thing to be said when two men were about to be more intimate.

“I have AIDS,” Vincent said.

“That’s okay,” Triston replied.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you? No,” Triston said with a shake of his head.

Vincent looked at him trying to figure out some tell, some way to know he was lying.

“I’m not afraid of you.  I’m afraid of the disease.  I’m afraid of catching it depending on what we do but there’s protection for that.  I’m afraid of getting it, having it.”  Triston took a deep breath.  “I’m afraid that it will make you sick.  I’m afraid that you will die young, before I’m ready to let you go.  I’m afraid I’ll get old without you.” 

“We barely know each other,” Vincent said.

“I feel like I’ve known you before, maybe in a previous life.”

“You’re kind of a hippie aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think I’m okay with uncertainty.  I’m a pragmatist.”

“Well, we have have one thing in common.”

“I’ve dated guys with it before, it’s not easy but we had a lot of fun.”

“But you don’t have it?”

Triston shook his head.

“Do you want to go back to my place then?”

Triston touched the side of Vincent’s head, ran his fingers around his ear and through his hair to his jawline where he grazed the bone and pulled him into a kiss.  He got to his feet and grabbed hold of Vincent’s side, felt the warmth of him.  Their tongues tickled each other until he felt too many people were staring in their direction.  They were in a straight bar after all.  It didn’t matter at the time they entered because they were there for a drink.  They pulled apart. 

Everyone looked away, including the bartender.  Triston took hold of Vincent’s hand and pulled him from the barstool to his feet.  Hand in hand they walked from the bar and out into the rain and back to Vincent’s car.

He tried to not think of the goal as a measure of success even though it felt like it should be.  He blamed his typical American upbringing for that.  No, to keep living he always tried to put it in different terms and reframe the narrative.  To only think of the goal was being dismissive of everything he experienced to get there.