Sunday morning

  The first thing I noticed was the smell of his hair. It had notes of coconut and olive oil, but also a sweetness that I blamed not on a particular shampoo but on his very personal scent. As I woke up, I couldn’t see his face as his back was against my chest. But his smell was enough for me not to move too much and just enjoy the moment. It was then I realized no man had ever stayed all night in my house, let alone in my bed and with me by his side. I smiled, as I closed my eyes back and tried to enjoy the moment a little bit longer.

 I used to wake up early on Sundays, as it was the only day of the week I could actually spend in things that I couldn’t do any other day. I would go to the gym for about three hours, then come back home and clean the place up real good, get in the shower for a good ten minutes and finally head out to the supermarket and buy any groceries I would have any need for. After that, I would just go back home, put everything in order, cook something fast and put on a movie, possibly one that I had already seen numerous times.

 But that Sunday, I wouldn’t be able to do the same thing. He was there and I wouldn’t like to be the kind of person to kick someone out just after spending a night together. I wondered if I should stay there in bed with him or just go to the kitchen and make some breakfast. Maybe he would be in for some time at the gym… But I then thought that was a stupid idea because the point was probably to spend some time together. Although that would maybe send the wrong message and I didn’t want him to be confused about anything.

 He then moved around, in order to face me. He was still asleep, that was obvious. He proceeded to get closer to me and then go back to being still right next to my chest. I caressed his head a little bit, now that I could move my arm freely. He was really cute, something I had already noticed but never really appreciated in its entirety. His eyebrows were thick and very black and he had long and luxurious eyelashes. His eye color was brown. I knew that. A beautiful brown that almost seemed liquid caramel.

 I stayed there for a while, just caressing his hair and smelling that beautiful coconut scent. I had no idea what to do with him, except looking at his face and feeling his body. He was a bit shorter than me, which was odd because I had rarely met men shorter than me, and had never had a crush on one. But there he was, and I could feel his warmth and that was great. I hugged him, not to tight in order not to wake him up, and then kissed him in the forehead. It was just something I felt like doing at the moment, no idea really why I did it. It just felt right, like the perfect thing to do.

 He opened up his eyes and looked at me. He gently got himself to the same level and then kissed me. His lips tasted a bit like tequila, which we had drank the night before, but also like those sweet worms that come in colors and are covered with sugar. He reminded me of those, sweet and kind of sour too. We kissed for a long while, maybe almost half an hour. For a moment, I felt self-conscious about my looks so early in the day and my breath, but then just enjoyed the moment kissing a beautiful man in my bed.

 After our kissing session, we stayed there without talking a single word. I put my chest against the bed and he faced the ceiling, looking up as if he was appreciating the sky. We stayed like so for a long time, right until he got out of bed because he wanted to pee. I let him go and stayed there for a moment, realizing then that I was very hungry. We hadn’t had anything to eat the night before; we only drank like sailors and had some peanuts, which really wasn’t any kind of substitute for real food.

 So I stood up and walked towards the kitchen, realizing half way that I was completely naked. I stop right in the middle of the aisle and looked back but then I realized how silly it was to be ashamed or something. After all, we had being having sex for a while and we had slept together for the first time. Being embarrassed didn’t make any sense. So I headed to my kitchen, a tiny space with a bar, which worked as my dinner table. The place was more like a hotel room than like an actual apartment.

 I took out a lemon juice from the refrigerator and poured some in a glass. I was about to pour some for him but then realized I had no idea if he liked lemon juice at all. For a minute, I was all confused and had no idea what to do, as if the concept of lemon juice would destroy anything that we had built up to that point. But then, the answer came by itself: he had come out of the bathroom and saw me with the bottle in my hand. He just grabbed the glass I had poured for myself and drank all of its content in a heartbeat.

 I was frozen in time for a moment but then I just poured some more in another glass and drank that, much slower. He said he was very thirsty and also very hungry.  He didn’t want to impose but he proposed to cook breakfast with me in order to make something faster. I agreed and we decided on something rather easy: eggs, sausage and toast. It was a protein filled breakfast and it would certainly satisfy our hunger. We could have pretended to only want granola or fruit but the truth was we were very hungry and we needed something big and full of everything to really feel good.

  We started cooking right away and breakfast was done in no time. We didn’t bothered to make it look good or anything, we just sat down naked and ate everything on the plate like a couple of vacuum cleaners. We didn’t even talked or looked at each other during that time. We just ate and filled our empty stomachs with something more than tequila. Once the plates were almost as cleaned as before we had served the food, we did stare at each other and shared a smile that seemed to be much more than that.

 I then decided to, again, follow what everything inside me was telling me to do. I stood up, grabbed his hand and took him back to my bed. We got it again and just started kissing and touching each other. However, it was not as sexual as all other times we had that exactly that in the middle of the night. For once, doing it in the daytime seemed bold and amazing, much different that the secrecy and forbidden pleasure behind the nocturnal shadows. It was something much different, in a good way.

 We did that for a long while and then just stopped, hugging each other tight. Through my head passed several different things to say or ask or do. But I couldn’t decide on any so I just stayed still, wrapping my arms around him. I did think about us, about the nature of our relationship. We had been “fuckbuddies” for a while now and that was okay but now something felt different and I couldn’t really just ignore it. It had to be addressed and talked about but I had no idea if that was the time and the place.

 It was him, again, who talked first and proved to have more guts than me. He asked me if this meant our relationship had changed. And I just asked what he thought of the nature of our relationship. He looked at me, with those beautiful eyes, and said that he had always felt something for me, from the very beginning. He confessed he had never done many of the things he had done with me with anyone else, including staying at their place on a Sunday. I smiled and just caressed his face gently.

 We stayed there in silence for a while and then we decided it was best to shower and do something that day. So we got in the bathroom together and also into the water. It was nice and warm and it felt just perfect. So I decided to tell him I really liked him to because he was nice and beautiful and so much more.

 We then kissed again, more passionately than ever and made love under the water. It felt very different, very good. And I could tell he felt exactly the same way. Something had changed that day and it was something better than I had ever expected. Finally, after so much wondering and time, I was in love.

Dragon Valley

   The real treasure of the mountains was hidden beyond the highest peaks, in a very difficult to reach valley. The water there was the purest in the world and those who went there had, in general, no intention of going back. The monastery of the valley of the Dragon was the crown jewel of the mountain range, covered in gold leaf and constructed for thousands of years, with the help of every single monk that had ever arrived there to dedicate his or her life to the cause of enlightenment and knowledge.

 Men and women were allowed in the temple and they were not segregated in any way. Actually, people of every single ethnicity had at one point lived there as a monk. It was a welcoming community, who had no interest in the personal lives of their people. They only lived to achieve the highest state of knowledge and compassion. They believed humanity existed to learn all that it could and to teach others about the wonders of the universe. They thought that teaching and learning were the pillars of any civilized society.

 That’s why, once in a lifetime for every single monk, they had to live the monastery and journey to the outside world in order to teach somewhere whatever they thought people had to learn. Some went to the villages in the outskirts of the mountain range. Meanwhile, others were more adventurous and traveled further, to enormous cities and remote towns where they felt they could make a real connection with people. Each one decided the destination on his or her own, no obligations attached, except for one.

 They always had to come back. The life of the monks of the Valley of the Dragon was forever tied to the monastery. After a year outside, they were obliged to come back and dedicate the rest of their lives to further learning and teaching, in the form of writing books or painting illustrative art. They could also help restoring the building, as it was getting very old or they could even attempt to take care of the few crops and animals that they had in that remote space so far into the mountain, so high up too.

 Most of the monks never had a problem with coming back to their monastery. After all, it was there where they had felt the ray of enlightenment for the first time and that was a sensation no one could really forget or dismiss so easily. That’s why they felt compelled to go back and keep helping their fellow monks and humanity in their quest to be more cultured and aware of the wisdom that was in all things. However, they had been various exceptions of monks not coming back the moment they were supposed to, which was dealt with in the most sensitive but also serious way their community could.

 They would send another monk to the place were the person that didn’t want to go back was and they attempted to talk to them in order to understand why they want to stay in the outside world. They would hear the complaints and the thought of their fellow brothers and sisters and then they would try to make them realize how all of their fears came from places of insecurity and not from any hatred or ill will against their faith. After such a profound conversation, most runaway monks would come to their senses and head back home.

 But yes, they were very few that even after the conversation had no intention of going back. Maybe they had remembered what they had missed from the outside world and they just wanted to experience all of that more permanently. Complaints of that nature were unfounded as the monastery had found a way to use technology in their own advantage, for example protecting the most ancient texts with the help of very advances machines and using the internet to further their cause and connect with others seeking the same goal.

 The monastery had actually been in contact with several universities in the world and they would often send their monks to those places in their year of teaching, in order to exchange ideas and learn from others who were also seeking the answers in nature. It was mutually beneficial and it was an experience that could make a person grow beyond his or hers wildest dreams. Maybe even love would be born from such exchanges and the monastery welcomed it with open arms. They were not celibate.

 In recent years, the monastery had allowed the construction of small huts all around the Dragon Valley in order to accommodate some families that had decided to live there permanently. Life was much simpler, filled with hard work but with a sense of being able to actually help people in a meaningful way. That’s why every monk could decide when and where to go for his teaching year. It was left open to their choices in order to let them feel their way through life, not based on what others said.

 However, the place was still remote. Technology had also been used in order to install disruptors in the vicinity of the mountains, in order for satellite imagery to be unavailable for the whole area and to render high-tech equipment obsolete if someone wanted to find the valley through “easier” means. Whoever wanted to join the order had to do it with conviction, by foot and with effort. It couldn’t be in any other way. Men, women and children were all equals in that way and it happened to be the best way to make a proper selection of who deserved to be there and who didn’t.

 Dragon Valley was therefore a small fragment of the world that most people had never seen or even heard of in their lives. Sometimes it sounded like a myth or a legend, and people would even dismiss it as fictional. That wasn’t a problem for the people that lived there, at all.

 They would live their lives trying hard to actually have something to show for after years of studying and learning from the world around them. They tried not to just be here, doing things, but actually trying to hear the world and also speaking back to it. Their lives were always filled with purpose.

You have a letter

Dear Richard,

 I write this letter hoping it will find its way to you in these moments of war and uncertainty. For a long time now, I have been thinking about you and about the moments we spent together two years ago on my European trip. I know father wanted me to open my eyes and be receptive of all the things I could learn abroad, but the truth is that I only had eyes for you during the whole time. They wanted me to get interested in sciences and arts, but all I wanted was to talk to you about anything. I just wanted to hear your voice.

 Hopefully, this confession letter won’t strike you as odd or coming from a strange place. After all, we did have a moment to speak and you dedicated some very kind words to my person, words that I haven’t forgotten and that have been stuck in my brain for all of this time. I write them over and over in my notebook and when we had class, just before things got worse, I would daydream about that moment over and over again. You could say, Richard that I fell in love with you right then and there.

 Apologies are something I have to ask of you because I know this comes as a surprise. You knew I liked you and I know, or at least I understood, that you thought I was at least interesting. I remember that we were having wine in Lisbon. My father and sister had gone with your aunt to a party in our honor. And I had stayed behind telling them I had lost my notebook, which I had hidden carefully in a drawer. You stayed on with me, pretending to look for the notebook, but you knew it was a lie.

 I have to be clear: I wanted for you to take me on your arms and just stay there with me forever. I remember that, through the window, I could see a cobblestone street lined with beautiful colorful buildings. And beyond that, there was the ocean and up there the sun, shining bright as if it was celebrating our moment. I should’ve asked you for that hug, even if it was for a split second. I just needed it then and I have to confess I still need it right now, in these difficult times.

 Every day we get word from men dying in the fields, men we knew because of father’s job or my mother’s family. My sister’s fiancé, as you certainly know, was killed rather recently. It was horrible and she had to go and pick up the body to give him a proper burial. He didn’t have any parents, so she now mourns as if they had been married. It’s tragic and it scares me because I have no idea who is going to be next.

 Father has been the best kind of parent during these times. I had decided, for a while, to enlist and go to war like all other young men, but he stopped me and told me that there was no way he would lose his son over a war he didn’t believe in. He vouched for me before the men that travel the land picking up young men to send them to die. He told them I had severe health issues that would disable me from playing any role, no matter the importance, in the many battles to be fought at war.

 He had several doctors write different kinds of reports informing military officials of my health. According to those papers, which I read one afternoon after helping mother selling some of her most beloved pieces of porcelain, I’m only a few meters away from death. I have contagious diseases, problems with my bones and muscles, as well as mental issues that would scare anyone from taking me anywhere, to any kind of job. It scares me for my future but, again, I appreciate my father for doing what he did.

 What about you? There’s no war there but I hear there’s a lot of unrest because of some political thing happening. I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to read a lot about the actual situation, this kind of life we are living now is quite exhausting and we find ourselves getting up very early and then staying up until very late. We haven’t gone to war but the city and the government always has something to ask father. We have been forced to entertain military officials and diplomats and even refugees from certain areas.

 I write you this letter in the middle of the night, during a time I should be using to sleep. But don’t worry; thinking of you reading all of this is even more comforting than sleeping. I tend to have a sore back when I wake up and my body feels like levitating, as if I wasn’t really here. I prefer to avoid all of that, at least for this night. Would you hug me right now, if you were here with me in the night? Would I be able to smell that gorgeous scent you wore during the trip? I loved that scent.

 I have tried to look for several ingredients to make a similar kind of aroma but I haven’t been able to find the perfect kind of wood. As you know, the house is surrounded by several trees and we have a small forest beyond the fields, but none of those trees has the right kind of smell I want. Nevertheless, I have found other components and have been creating them in the basement, with that old chemistry kit my father bought for me in Brussels. I never thought I’d use it but, when I have a bit of free time, I spent it down there trying to find my way to you, more or less.

 I promise that, if I find the right ingredients, I will send some of it to you in a small bottle for your personal use. My father has more connections than ever now and, with luck, this letter and the eventual scent would arrive in your hands in a short period of time. How I wish it could be me to give you that present and every other present by hand! I know it is impossible right now but something that makes me going is the hope to see your face once again before I die. And I hope that moment is not very soon.

 Finally, I wanted to tell you that my appreciation of you is not only physical but also of the mind. Of course I was astonished to see you swim that time in the South of France. I have to confess I had to pull myself together in order not to reveal what I felt to everyone that day. But you looked beautiful or even more than that. Maybe it was the light, or the food or just me. I have no idea what it was but I know how I felt… I just hope I can see you again someday, better sooner that later but I whatever life makes of it.

 Before bidding goodbye, I have to ask you to burn this letter after you read it. I cannot allow anyone besides you knowing about all of this. One never knows who lurks in the dark, which has picked up something that we might have left unattended for. My sister asked some questions after the trip and I had to dismiss all of it as her imagination acting up because of her fears about her fiancé and the war, all of which ended up happening. I felt horrible afterwards but she never asked anything again.

 Anyway, this is it. I have to sleep now and you have things to do too.

 If this letter confuses you in any way, please don’t respond. I’ll understand.

 All the best,

 Tom.

Life is strange

   His body felt warm and I liked that. I hugged him, tightening the grip with my arms, because I was actually afraid he might leave at any moment. But, for some reason I never asked, he stayed that night with me. We made love again and he told me he loved me as he kissed my neck and I caressed his thigh. It was so much, maybe too much, for just one night. But I decided not to ask anything, not to think about it all too much. I didn’t want to ruin the moment with a question that could be answered another time.

 Nowadays, our relationship has evolved greatly. That was three years ago. We are now married and his son lives with us. He had him with a woman he thought he loved, right out of high school but it wasn’t what he thought it was. However, from that weak union came a strong bond in the form of Nicholas, a bright kid that has made me rethink my role as a man. I’m not his father, not biologically and I haven’t adopted him yet, but he calls me Dad anyway, without thinking about it too much.

 We live in a house we were able to buy with both our salaries. The cost was high but we knew exactly what we wanted. It has a large main bedroom and two spar bedrooms for visitors. Thomas, my husband, decorated Nicholas’ room personally, putting on the walls every single thing the kid liked and making it removable in order to be adjusted as the years go by. He dedicated long hours to that project and refused my help, as he wanted to do something special for his kid after years of a difficult relationship.

 Thomas and the kid’s mother had been fighting for their rights for a long time until it was agreed she would have the kid for one month and then Thomas would get the kid for the following month and so on. I thought it was cruel to use a kid like that, as a thing to put on or off the counter. But I never said a word because that’s something for Thomas to fix and tend to. We even fought several times because he seemed too focused on his kid and his former girlfriend than in our life together.

 I have to confess I got to be a lot meaner than I ever was. For starters, I never liked the kid before he came in to live with us. I resented him in a way, seeing how Thomas loved to spend every waking moment with him and I just got some weekends and not even that. Our relationship had passed from one with a lot of romance and sex, to one where there was only a random kiss a week and some conversation that never went anywhere. Even after we got married, I felt he wasn’t mine yet and maybe he would never be. I neglected to see he was a father first, my husband later.

 The kid would come in some weekends, from time to time, but it would often be a very tense time for Thomas and for me as well. Not only because he would spend every single second with the kid but because he would spend the rest of his time talking about his former girlfriend and how he thought she should run his life. I heard so much about her for so long. The few chances I got to meet her; I avoided the opportunity at every turn. I didn’t want to feel even more threatened and unsure of myself.

 I even decided to attend a shrink once a week. I’ve never believed in those people but I thought it would be much better than just staying at home on the edge of screaming at Thomas or, God forbid, striking the kid. So I excused myself telling them I was going to meet my parents but I really spent an hour with Dr. Mendelsohn, who was as useless as I had thought before attending our appointments. The only good thing was that I wasn’t at home anymore. As I’m not made of money, I stopped going after one month.

 After that, I decided to really spend my days with my parents. After I had moved out of the house, I didn’t really got to speak with them that much, only over the cellphone or something. So I began cooking with my mom again and talking politics with dad. It was like back when I was younger and I found myself yearning for those years. It was hard because I was depressed often but at least I had them back then. They were always there for me to talk or at least just be there, to be present.

 Eventually, Thomas confronted me about going to my parents practically every single weekend. I confronted him too, telling him I had no interest in meddling into his affairs, into his life before I entered into it. He said he wanted me to be in his present fully, involving myself with his child and even with the woman that had brought him to life. But I told him the truth: I couldn’t make myself want something I didn’t. I had never wanted children or the past to come knocking on my door. I just wanted him.

 That was the moment our relationship took a deep dive. We didn’t yell or anything like that after that argument. We just fell silent and suddenly I knew exactly what I had to do. I grabbed a suitcase and started putting some of my clothes there. I told him it was temporary, because it was clear we needed space to think about what was happening. I reminded him he was my husband right before heading out. He grabbed me by the wrist and told me I was his husband too. I won’t lie: fear ran through my spine right then and there. I have no idea why but that’s what happened.

 I moved in with my parents and I asked them not to say a word about the whole thing. I would just continue to go to work and fulfill my responsibilities without any delay or doubt. I would just go on with my life because stop it altogether would be fatal. Of course, I cried every night thinking about him and how the man I used to know was no longer there. I trusted him to think about it all and come back to me with a proper response. He never did, at least not in the way I had always thought.

 He came to my place almost a year later. I had decided to rent a small apartment downtown, as I realized my parents already had a life between the two and me being there was not the life they had envisioned in their golden years. So I decided to move on, never minding anything else in my life. I even got a promotion, which was celebrated with a big party where I almost kissed another man but didn’t. I felt like shit after that but at least I stopped myself, despite the large amounts of alcohol in my blood.

 The day Thomas came, I was cleaning my place up. I stopped everything and we sat down in the living room, which consisted on a sofa against he wall, facing a flat screen TV. There was a moment of silence and then I told him I hated when silence feel between us. It seemed unnatural. He finally spoke, saying he had come to me to tell me the years of litigation were done and that he had finally gained a good amount of time with his son. I was happy for him, because he was finally ecstatic with the news.

 I thought that was it. He didn’t seem to have anything else to say, so I stood up and told him I needed to finish cleaning soon, as I had to leave later. It was a lie; I just wanted him out of my sight. But then he came close to me and hugged me as I had hugged me so many years ago. He told me he loved me and that he missed me every single day. He even kneeled and asked me to marry him, which was nice because I had been to one to do that the first time. I said yes, because I do love him.

 We then had the best sex I have ever had. It’s strange how you take some things for granted, like how much better it is when your partner is someone that knows your body thoroughly and has a very good idea about what you like, what it is that makes you feel in heaven.

 I have no idea how, but he transferred that knowledge to the other parts of our lives. That’s how I got to understand him better and to love his son, maybe as much as he did. Now I found myself packing lunches and preparing camping weekends. Life is so strange… But it’s life.