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There’s a certain flavor of sorrow that hits the tongue when you’re left behind. It’s sour; like the aftertaste of cheap scotch. Maurice remembered the heavy feeling on the tongue and the spins that came from drinking too much too quickly. The hardwood of his bedroom floor was cool against his forehead and for just a moment, the world seemed to quiet itself. A moment of peace so he could lay in his broken heart. Some may call it wallowing. They had never felt such a heartbreak. Maurice lost more than a lover. He’d lost his steady hand to hold. His buoy in the storm for men like himself. He was completely and entirely alone, left to drown. Who else would have him?
When Clive first left him, he bought cheap bottles of liquor; hiding the stashes so his mother and sisters would never notice. He went to work, played his part, then came home and shook off anyone who reached out for him. Maurice would pull out the next bottle and drink until he was left laying like a corpse against the floor. A bed seemed too soft, too comforting for the violence of his mind.
And then he’d wake up. The throbbing in his head never matched the painful sobs that pulled themselves up from his chest. Maurice remembered the third day after Clive left him. He had been upset, but there was something about that third day that made reality truly sink in. Maurice was completely alone in the house, his mother, and sisters off to some dinner party (to escape his moods). He had been lying in bed and drunk off scotch when it crept upon him. Maurice had been thinking about Clive, and there came a scratching at his chest.
He pushed himself onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He couldn’t breathe and each desperate heave of breath brought only sobs. A sound that he didn’t think himself capable of tore itself from his throat. He laid himself onto the floor, screaming into the wood. Shakes overtook him, the vibrations of grief crawling under his skin led him to dig his nails into his skin. Angry red welts raised against the skin of his arms. His mind started to scream at him. Maurice remembered the bitter mixture of desires that pooled inside of him. He was terrified of himself. Of what he was capable of doing to himself. And in that fear, he brought his fists to his temples and began to beat against his own skull between snotty sobs and gasps for air. He wanted out of his mind, his body. His life.
It didn’t take very long before he started seeing stars behind his eyes, and slowly, he lowered his fists onto the floor away from his head. Maurice let his body slump against the floor and found himself dozing to his own bewilderment. He fell asleep like that and woke up to the sound of his mother and sisters coming home. He peeled himself from the floor and laid himself in bed, lest he be caught and forced to explain himself.
And then he woke up and went to work.
He sought to either cure himself of his inversion or kill himself with drink. Though in all his sadness, he couldn’t determine if he wanted to die because of his inversion or because Clive had left him to face this alone. What was he supposed to do? Clive had sent Maurice’s glass heart tittering to shatter on soft ground. He wanted his mother to pull him into her arms, like he was a child again; but she would ask too many questions. And what was he supposed to say?
“I love Clive mum. I love him, but he does not love me. I love him, but he has left me to suffer in this loneliness. Please mum, it hurts so much.”
What could be more tragic than being unable to seek comfort in a mother? Heartbreak makes children of us all; it ignites a craving for the unconditional love she was supposed to give. Maurice often wondered how far unconditional could really go, but never told her the truth out of fear. Who could handle that kind of heartbreak?
Maurice attempted to take his own life only once. He barely remembered the details of the how or when. He was drunk. He remembered shaking and the millions of things slurring through his head that barely sounded like thoughts. He remembered the pain, and then the regret. The regret. He didn’t expect how heavy the regret would feel. His last thought had been about the sheets. Someone would have to clean up his mess in the morning, and he decided that was his greatest regret in all of this.
And then he woke up and went to work.
He lived in a purgatory for a month. His own birthday passed without acknowledgment and Maurice learned to live in the numbness.
And then Alec Scudder climbed in through the window.
Alec pushed him down onto the bed with such tenderness and pressed his lips onto Maurice’s. Maurice pulled Alec closer and kissed him back. He kissed him until he was breathless and then dove back for more. It was the most alive he had felt in the year of hell, and he wanted to commit the feeling to memory. Maurice opened his arms to Alec.
“Take it all. Take whatever you want,” he whispered into Alec’s neck. The other had shaken his head.
“I won’t take anything. We’re sharing sir. These moments are for sharing.”
Maurice didn’t know what Alec meant until he found himself waking up deep in Alec’s arms. He didn’t wake feeling used, dirty, or regret. He awoke feeling at ease for the first time in a year. The comfort of Alec’s heartbeat under his ear lulled Maurice back to sleep until the church bell called Alec away from his bed.
He fell in love in spite of his heart. This pain was different than when Clive left him. Warmth spread in his chest anytime he thought of Alec, but an overwhelming feeling of dread hung over him. What if this all came crashing down on him? What if Alec told the police? He hadn’t gone to the boathouse out of fear, and with that came more fears. What if Alec hated him? Had he ruined something precious once again?
Maurice relapsed into his cycle of drinking and sobbing at night for about a week. It came to a halt though when Alec barreled back into his life again with a vivacious anger. Maurice had never felt so mesmerized by another person as he did Alec when he scolded Maurice for his cruelty. Alec was heartbroken. Maurice never anticipated that Alec would share his feelings, but he did.
It was with that realization that he was willing to throw his life away for Alec. His body yearned for nothing other than a life with his friend. At first, it seemed Alec did not yearn for the same; but Maurice would soon learn something important about Alec.
Alec was brave.
Alec laid on the floor of the boathouse, looking up at Maurice with a tired smile and sleepy words. Maurice had pulled Alec up into his arms and kissed him, then held him. He let his body fall into Alec’s makeshift bed and let his heart follow. There was no dread then, only the warmth of Alec’s breath and tiny fire. Maurice shared his body with Alec, who held it with reverence. He had lost his faith many years ago, but their love making felt like a communion. A ceremony to the beginning their new lives.
Over the next few months, Maurice learned how to live in love. A fear hung over Maurice that Alec would grow tired of their new way of life and leave him. He kept anticipating the moment Alec would turn and find a wife, like Clive had done. Alec never did. Each morning the shorter would wake up with a tired smile, stretch himself out like a cat, and bury his face into Maurice’s neck or hair. Maurice teared up the first time Alec did it.
Today, Maurice is getting drunk with Alec for the first time. It’s their first Christmas together and Maurice decided to treat them with beer from the nearest pub. He’d walked into their tiny cottage with a wide smile and rosy cheeks as he held up the jugs. Alec looked up from the fire he was tending to and let out a delighted gasp. They fixed supper together (with lots of nudging and stolen bites of potato to Maurice’s feigned annoyance) and sat on the floor in front of the fire. Alec poured a glass for them both and they clinked them together.
“Merry Christmas Morrie.”
“Merry Christmas Alec.”
They ate and drank, and when the food was gone, they continued to drink. Maurice felt his body lighten as he laid his head on Alec’s shoulder.
“Dance with me?” Maurice asked after a while. Alec looked to him with a confused smile.
“I don’t know how to dance Morrie,” but this didn’t seem to matter. Maurice pulled Alec up to stand as he set his fourth glass down. The shorter of the two watched in amusement as Maurice held him and began to sway them as he hummed a tune Alec didn’t know. They weren’t quite dancing, but Maurice didn’t seem to mind. He let out a giggle as Alec attempted to spin him around. Maurice stumbled back into Alec’s arms and kissed him on his temple, nose, cheeks, and then finally his lips.
“How are you already drunk?” Alec laughed as he broke the kiss. Maurice swayed them more and grinned.
“It’s been a while since I drank my love. Haven’t touched a drop since you missed your boat. I used to drink quite a bit,” he said bluntly, “especially after Clive.”
Alec’s smile dropped.
“Don’t. Don’t look at me like that,” Maurice poked at Alec’s cheek, “I was in a bad way, but it’s over. I’m alive, here, with you. Drunk and feeling lovely.”
“What would you drink?” Alec asked carefully.
“Scotch at first, then whatever was cheap and easy to hide from mum and sisters. Almost killed myself with the stuff,” Maurice said softly, laying his head on Alec’s shoulder as they continued to sway, “Didn’t taste good going down nor up. It made me feel worse, but I kept drinking it because misery loves company I suppose.”
He felt Alec tense and pull him closer. Maurice gently pushed away from his grip to gently hold Alec’s face in his hands. He kissed him briefly again and smiled.
“But this doesn’t feel like that Alec. I’m not drunk because I’m miserable. I’m drunk because it’s so warm here, and you’re so soft,” he pinched the other’s cheeks lightly to emphasize his point, “So soft. So lovely. Oh my love, I’ve never been drunk because I’m happy, and it’s because of you that I am. You were so brave to come with me, and I’m so happy. I never knew I could feel so loved and so happy. I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. Look at you my beautiful boy, my light, my life, my love, my friend.”
Alec was smiling again, then laughing. Maurice pouted and feigned offense.
“What’s so funny?”
Alec continued to laugh, “You. You don’t usually say romantic things, now you’re rambling them.”
“I don’t know how to unless I’m drunk. But I will learn, you deserve to hear romantic things.”
It was Alec’s turn to hold Maurice’s face in his hands, “You’re fine as you are. Don’t worry yourself with romantic words, just stay with me.”
Maurice grinned and nodded his head, “Okay. Sounds lovely to me. If you ever do find yourself wanting to hear romantic things, get me drunk again and I’m sure you’ll hear plenty.”
Alec smiled and kissed him gently for a moment. When he pulled away, he reached down to grab his glass, “I ought to keep up with you. ‘S no fun if only one of us gets drunk tonight.”
Maurice laughed and grabbed his half-empty glass. He held it out for Alec to clink his own cup against as he pulled the shorter man closer, “To us?”
“To us,” Alec said, softly clinking his glass and pressing a brief kiss to Maurice’s temple before taking a drink.
“I love you, Alec,” Maurice murmured into his glass.
“I love you too.”