Nymphaea

Chapter 5: Opinions change, true friendships persist

Paul swore. Had they only made use of the sunny weather on the fourth day of their stay to walk in the parks or do something like that! Now they were bound to either stay in the hotel or run from one sight to the next – it was pouring. For days. Sometimes it just rained, sometimes the rain mixed with heavy gusts of wind or even thunder and lightning.

That was a good excuse for Stephen to stay in bed all morning. Paul did not question him much. He went and ‘conquered’ Shanghai alone until early in the afternoon; then they spent time together. Not that Stephen was any good at entertaining Paul. He was absent-minded. He really expected Paul to try to push him to explain his mood, but Paul did not. Maybe he sensed something.

*

Ayve was lying in the grass. His eyes were shut, his arms wide spread. The water poured down on him in heavy drops. They felt like thousands of fingertips on his body and crashed down on his face with a weight that nearly hurt him.

To breathe the clean air was so good.

His clothes were soaked and so was his skin. The air was still warm, and the cool rain seemed a gift.

He was a fool, caught in himself. After all – why not? He longed to scream. Oh yes, he had always had a love for the extremes – and life had put him to some, had taught him the lesson that extremes where not always enjoyable. Yet, what did he have to lose? Your sanity. Stop talking nonsense! He hadn’t lost it then – at least not all of it – he would not lose it now.

He could set up rules, limit himself, do something… but he longed to loosen the restrictions he had put upon himself. What’s your life without emotions, without passion? Stop punishing yourself! Take this medicine; let him make you forget…

*

After their seven-day-stay, Paul and Stephen prepared to fly back to London. Paul would change planes and fly directly to Dublin from there to help Anne in her last weeks of pregnancy.

After breakfast, they checked whether they had really packed everything, and then they went to give the key back at the reception and head to the cab.

The receptionist, a man in his thirties who had understood the meaning of the word ‘service’, held them back. A message had been deposited for Stephen. He was given a small envelope containing a short note and a snippet carrying a mobile phone number. Stephen turned away to read the note, trying not to show his excitement. It was impossible not to notice it.

Paul turned away, giving Stephen the time he needed, they were early anyway. He looked through the big glass doors of the entrance hall, seeing passers-by rushing to reach the safety of a roof, as yet another drench was coming down.

A figure on the other side of the street, standing unmoved in the middle of the rain, caught Paul’s attention. He recognised him. The long, black hair adhered thick like a mantle to his perfect male body, clearly outlined under his wet clothing. He looked straight into Paul’s eyes.

They had seen each other before, a few days ago, when this guy had left the teahouse where he had met Stephen. Paul had gone after his friend. He had seen what had been going on between the two. There had been no mistaking this. And when this guy had left the teahouse, he had been staring right at Paul, giving him a long look as if to evaluate him. He obviously had not been happy after his meeting with Stephen; that much Paul had been able to read from his face.

This time, the man’s face wore a different expression. It was full of pride. His arms were crossed. Paul couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was strange about this guy – besides the fact that he stood outside in the rain like an abandoned dog watching Stephen read his note instead of coming in and telling him what he had to say eye to eye.

He turned suddenly, releasing Paul from his gaze and slowly wandered down the street out of sight.

*

Ayve had decided to ‘go home’ for a while to try to find peace. It was not really feeling like home there. After all, this was still a refuge although the others had transformed it into a quite beautiful place. Some of his people had been born there, but most of them still treasured the memory of their former home.

He couldn’t say he didn’t like being with his people. He came to rest in that place. After all that had happened, and all his efforts to gather what had been left of his kin, to secure their well-being and save their culture, he had gladly been accepted as one of them again. Yet, he couldn’t enjoy himself. He couldn’t fit in. What a relief it would be to be able to settle down there and join their daily life rituals. To live with beings that would stay at his side, that would not fade in the course of time.

Only, Ayve was restless. He feared for them. And he could not bear their slow ways in the end. He was much too accustomed to the ways of the western world. To the ways of the people he despised the most and yet shared the most time with. He was split. No, he had no home; he did not know where he belonged.

The elders watched him. They still believed he would come back to his former ways finally, or even better – to the ways of his father. In the end, he was his only son and heir. He, the impure one. His father had made sure of that. Ayve trusted his father’s decisions. However, he was not so sure about his own decisions.

Anyway, he did not have to deal with these issues now. He was left alone there, if he wished.

Ayve went there this time to gather some quiet, regain strength, and put some sense into his mind. He would breathe in the silence of that place. He would hear the rattle of his breath and grow aware of the value of the life that was given to him again.

Then, if he still had this young man’s picture imprinted on his mind afterwards, he would do what he already had prepared. He would swallow his pride.

*

They were sitting in the plane back home. Stephen was gazing out of the window, watching the clouds beneath them pass by. The small letter was in the front pocket of his shirt, as close to his body as possible.

Paul fought with himself. He wanted to tell Stephen that he knew. That there was someone he could trust, that he could talk to.

“What was that letter about?” he asked bluntly.

Stephen turned to face him. His features read that he was urgently trying to find a credible answer without telling too much. He kept close to the truth. “Oh, I met an old friend that afternoon when you went back to the hotel alone,” he replied truthfully. “We had forgotten to exchange phone numbers…”

“I see,” Paul said, disappointed that Stephen’s response had not resulted in a good opportunity to confess the truth without pushing him too much. But the longer he waited, the harder it would get. Goodness, he wasn’t made for this!

“Stephen, I know.”

Stephen looked at him, lacking comprehension.

Paul was embarrassed to have to name it. He looked around; they were sitting in the last row, the passengers in the row before them listened to music via headphones. He muted his voice. “Stephen, I saw you two. I know that there is more than friendship going on. Please don’t be mad at me,” he was quick to add, seeing Stephen’s confounded look. “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t need to hide that from me. I don’t have a problem with it.”

Stephen did not show a clear reaction. He was in shock.

Paul waited a while; then he explained, “I really didn’t want to spy on you, only you acted so strange all of a sudden and I was worried.”

Stephen still sat there in silence, hand on his mouth, looking out of the window to hide his face.

Paul let him regain his composure. He would have touched him on the arm or somewhere to signal that everything was all right between them on his side, that he was there for Stephen – if they had not just been talking about Stephen being attracted to a man. Although he would never admit that to Stephen, it was strange to know one of his best mates was fancying men. It would take a while to get accustomed to that idea, to be able to deal with him as usual.

Some time later, the stewardess came to offer them something to drink. Paul placed an order for Stephen. When she had gone, he held it in front of Stephen’s nose. “Come on,” he gave him a nudge on the arm. “Get over it. It’s really okay for me.”

Stephen took the drink. He gave Paul an insecure smile. “Thank you.”

***