People on the fringes. Marginalized people. Standing at the edges of cracks we don’t want to think about. Always there, in our peripheral vision, whether or not we hand over a pocket full of change or a few crumpled bills or a sack of food. They scare us. We walk a little faster, eyes averted. We pretend not to S-E-E because then it won’t befall us or the friend who lost a job or the family member damaged by drugs or war or grinding poverty.
Then someone like Georgina Li writes a story that cracks open our hearts because we need to believe no matter how far the fall, love can make the landing a little less unforgiving.
Last week they’d dragged a mattress up the stairs, big enough for both of them and hardly stained at all. Lucas took their old one down to the alley, left a note on it: FREE TO A GOOD HOME. Ethan had added a smiley face to it when he headed out that afternoon and wasn’t surprised at all to find the mattress gone when he came home.
Ethan looked at their bed, scratched at his belly, said, “Time to get up. We both need showers,” and Lucas burped and swallowed hard, reached out a hand when Ethan stood up again. Lucas’s skin was hot and his palm was scraped to hell, but Ethan pulled him to his feet carefully and brushed a kiss across his cheek. Lucas grinned at him and held up his pants with his free hand.
Ethan watched him check his pocket for the money he kept hidden inside. Then his hand drifted to his dog tags—CRADY, LUCAS, M., 045265894, O NEG, CATHOLIC—which clinked together softly as he looked for his guitar case. It was a familiar ritual, and as usual, Lucas didn’t breathe easy until he found his baby propped up by the door.
….
Lucas said he’d missed his guitar more than anyone when he was overseas, said he hadn’t felt like he was home until he had an acoustic in his hands again. He’d stopped at a pawnshop as soon as he was stateside and picked his new baby right off the wall. He didn’t talk about being over there much, though sometimes he had nightmares, or he’d say things like “racked out” or “squared away,” and Ethan would grin and imagine him in uniform, sexy and sharp. Mostly it made Ethan sort of sad to think about Lucas serving his country and hiding who he was, made him wish they’d known each other then, too. Ethan would have written him letters, made sure he had something to miss for real.
…Lucas slung his arm around Ethan’s shoulders…humming to himself, almost steady on his feet. Christ, he was gorgeous, his dark hair just growing in and his milky skin all scarred up. He was sweating booze and stale smoke, but his eyes were bright when he looked at Ethan, blue as the ocean, blue as the whole world… They were good to each other, and that’s just the way it was. Even this, right now, Lucas’s body against his, heavy and alive, his hand curled on Ethan’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing along the curve of Ethan’s throat. It was perfect.
You can read the rest of “Spill Your Troubles on Me, Love” in Best Gay Romance 2014, on sale now in trade paperback and ebook format.
Excerpt reprinted with permission from Cleis Press. All rights reserved