Photographs of Graves

It was almost six when I walked into the little corner coffee shop. The evening was a cold one for a summer night and I was happy I brought my jacket. The sun was just beginning to kiss the horizon with its soft warmth, making the harsh winds of the day recess with its face and leaving the world in calm and neutral hues. I walked up to the barista and asked for a café mocha in my best elementary Dutch, handed her my pre-paid plastic, and curled up in the window seat with my laptop.

Soon after I had gotten settled I was met at my window seat: I was not, however, met by Graves. Ana walked in, ordered something that sounded herb-filled and entirely too natural, and sat down next to me. After her Mikael, Cosette, and Bastion trickled in, each ordering something and creating a conglomerate near my window. They smiled and waved.

“Didn’t think you could keep this place a secret to us forever, did you?” Mikael smiled at me, taking a sip of whatever he had ordered. Music over the speakers fell over us like a blanketed backdrop, making me drowsy even though it was so early. I smiled at him.

“I guess not,” I shrugged.

“Graves showed you this place, huh?” he asked. “He knows some pretty cool spots. Yeah, he pointed it out to Dan and me when we came up here on the trolley.” Daniel Baker, Mikael’s roommate, had not joined them but instead left to go out smoking with another group of interns. After spending the few weeks of summer with Da I almost missed the smell of cigarette smoke: It wasn’t the most attractive thing, but it reminded me of home.

“They make it nice here,” Bastion said quietly. His voice was low and gravely. I think that was the first time I’d ever heard him speak.

“Yes, it is warm,” Cosette agreed. I don’t think “warm” was particularly the word she was looking for, but it got the feeling across. We all nodded in agreement. Ana sighed heavily, leaning her head against my shoulder. I rubbed it absentmindedly, like I used to do for Zoe back home.

“Marion went back home. She told me that I must find my own dinner or be back by eight,” Ana explained, looking up at me. “Do we get food together?”

I laughed. “Yes, Ana, we can get food together.”

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, slipping into our separate memories of places we would normally be this time of day. Instead we were together in Amsterdam, getting by on poor Dutch and sipping coffee.

The bells of the coffee shop jingled above the door softly as it swung open, glinting glass against the setting sun.

“I guess my special place isn’t so secret anymore is it?” Graves asked, walking by us. He ordered a coffee and slid into the window seat next to me, occupying the space between the Plexiglas window and my left side. He sighed.

“A place that is a jewel like this? Of course not,” Ana murmured against my shoulder.

I looked at Graves. He was looking out the window, his lips pulled slightly downward into a pensive frown. He looked almost haggard, definitely worn. I nudged him lightly.

“Long day?” I asked in a whisper. He nodded.

“Now that I’m back in commission I’ve had to do another article for the press about the accident and read up on my next assignment. The research I’m fine with, but reporters and interviews wear me out. It’s hard to believe that they’re of the same profession as us.”

He rested his head lightly against my free shoulder, closing his eyes. I was surprised he’d make such a blatant gesture of affection in front of so many interns, but I wasn’t about to move him. I felt sorry for the guy. Being even partially famous isn’t a fate I’d wish on anyone: Fame was a grueling trade, marketed on tabloids and the pure want of the public to see those that they’d raised onto a pedestal fall. I didn’t want to see Graves fall again.

Bastion, Cosette, and Mikael were talking quietly amongst themselves. Bastion had gotten out a cigarette and started smoking, reclining back in his chair. They looked tired. We all looked tired. Change did that to people, even the best of us. I watched them idly, sipping mocha and thinking. I realized soon that Ana had fallen asleep on my shoulder and was now breathing softly into my jacket. I carefully took her own drink before it slipped from her fingers.

A song that I knew started playing overhead, which surprised me: It was a piano piece called Comptine d’un Autre Ete L’Apres-Midi that I would often play when I wanted to write or go to sleep. It was sad and invoked feelings in me that pulled jarringly at my chest and made me curl deeper into myself. Graves breathed heavily into my hair, listening to the melancholy tune.

“Can you come over to my place tonight?” he asked. With one finger he absentmindedly traced weaving designs on my thigh, spiraling around the seam of my jeans. This did interesting things to my insides very different than what the music invoked.

“But what about Mikael and Dan? They live with you, don’t they?” I asked nervously.

“They sleep downstairs, I sleep up. They understand that a man gets lonely. Will you come?”

“I’ll think about it. I promised to take Ana out to dinner first, though.”

Graves chuckled a bit and his fingers wandered dangerously high on my inner thigh.

Casually I slid my hand in the way of his path, stopping his ascent.

“Take her out to dinner. Actually, we all can go out somewhere, since you probably need a Dutch speaker in your party. But that should be nice. I’ll wait, Murph. I’ll wait.”

~~

I had not expected to find myself wrapped up with Theodore Graves again. I definitely had not expected to be back with him again so soon. But here I was, sighing and naked with his nakedness pressed on top of me and against my lips and in my body. He clutched to me under the soft blankets, and I to him, moaning softly.

That song was playing again, Comptine d’un Autre Ete L’Apres-Midi. It permeated our sex, a silent homage to the beauty that lied there. I realized that together Graves and I battled silently against all the loneliness in the world, even as it fell over us, just as soft as the sheets on top of us but heavy as a broken heart. I twined my fingers in his hair and he kissed me until I thought I was going to stop breathing. The sun dipped behind the horizon, going to sleep behind the walls of the city and bring the stars out to shine over our heads.

It was then that I realized how beautiful sex was. I had known it had always been fun, but it was never truly beautiful, continuously tainted by something about human nature that made it dark and twisted. As Graves and I fought loneliness to occupy one space true beauty shone through: In his blue eyes, his kisses… Our naked bodies, our sighs, our lips…

I fell asleep wrapped up in him under the covers, warm and breathing lightly. He breathed into my tousled hair. Whispering something I didn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Angel,” he whispered a little louder, running a hand down my bare stomach, “I think I’m very much in danger of loving you.”

I said nothing, only shivered and curled up into him tighter. I couldn’t say anything because I was afraid to admit it. I was afraid that I was in danger, too. I wanted to be with him, but I didn't want to admit it. I wanted to be there, to be part of him, and him part of me: But I couldn't say it. Something small and scared inside me held me back, clamping my lips shut.

Because I knew that, in truth, two things cannot occupy the same space. Reality and loneliness sit between, purring.