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Rubble(continued) 9. The clock on the nightstand showed nearly midnight when I woke. I looked down the length of my bed. Sure enough. Not a dream. Rashid's
naked legs (such black hair, I thought) were draped over mine, and his
arm rested on my chest. Me holding someone. Someone holding me. "Rashid," I said quietly. "I think it's time to get
up." He opened his eyes. "Hi." "Hi back." The smile. "So." "So." "Not what you expected?" "I was planning on chicken casserole." "You didn't answer the question." I thought he was playing,
but then I saw he meant it. "No, it's not what I expected." "Good. I wanted to surprise you." "What?" "Roy. Come on. Maybe you weren't expecting it, but maybe you've
been hoping about it?" He was getting right to it, wasn't he? I didn't try to make excuses
or lie: "I guess I was." "Thanks." "For?" "For being honest." "But why did you . . ." "I didn't do anything I didn't want to." "But I thought..." "Thought I was straight? Maybe. I never thought much about it.
Then I met you. Haven't you felt it? Between us, I mean?" "Yeah, but I always thought it was just me. I never wanted to
do anything to hurt you — or get you angry with me." He kissed me on the cheek. "Like I said, I didn't do anything
I didn't want to." I propped up on my elbow: "But I'm twice your age, Rashid. Besides,
you're a student at the college, for Christ's sake." "So what? You're 50. Big deal. And this is your apartment. Does
the college have cameras here? It's your place; you can do whatever
you want." This time the kiss is sloppy, delicious. He pulls back for a moment.
"Don't you think I wanted this, too? Don't you think I wanted to
do this back in Pakistan?" He rolls me to my back, holding down
my arms, above me, looking. Those eyes. "We needed to do this,
didn't we?"
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