Pierre & Bill Now

Hearing the flirtatiousness in his voice, Bill immediately wanted to retract. He was leading him on, suggesting there was more. But there wasn’t. There was no place in his life for romance. A quickie, yes. Obviously. But Anton was offering more than that and as much as he was drawn to him, Bill had to decline. Fucking Pierre’s caregiver. How fucked was that? It would be an act of sheer desperation and he had to keep all his despair to himself. Looking for a friendly way to end the embrace, he bided his time. But he hadn’t counted on Anton not biding his.

Leaning back, Anton gave him a pensive look. Then he closed in, shut his eyes, and pursed his lips. Bill froze — only for a moment, but he lived that moment like a string of revelations. Anton wanted him. But it could never be. So, he placed his lips on Anton’s cheek and kissed him. The effect was immediate. Dropping his arms, Anton pulled away. His face hanging low, he mumbled something that Bill didn’t understand. He didn’t have to. Anton was mortified. Now it was Bill’s turn to grab him and he took his arm.

“I really like you, Anton, but I can’t. I…”

“Sorry,” Anton cut in. “I am stupid.”

“You’re never stupid,” Bill said and then he caved. “And you’re not wrong.”

Lifting his head just enough that Bill could see his troubled eyes, Anton raised his shoulders questioningly. “So why?”

“I just can’t.” Only then did he let him go but he didn’t back away. “With Pierre and, you know, his health and …and then you’re his caregiver… It’s…”

“Not ethic. I understand.”

Bill adamantly shook his head. “I don’t care about ethics. I really don’t.” His thoughts in turmoil, they spun out like a car wreck. “But how am I supposed to, you know…like…someone when Pierre is…?” He couldn’t say the word. “Maybe if we’d met under different circumstances things would be different.”

“But we never meet in other way,” Anton reasoned. His voice was low and steady. “This is only way we meet. At day I am at people’s houses. At night I do training in gym. Where do I meet you? You go to these houses? No. You go to gym? No. We call it soarta. Soarta bring us together. I don’t know in English.” He squinted in an attempt to remember the word. “Must be. Has to be. No other way.”

“You mean fate.”

“Yes, fate.” Looking calmer now, Anton moved a little closer. His eyes asked for more.

Teetering on the edge of a cliff and ready to jump, Bill backed down. “Maybe our fate is just not to be together.”
Anton shook his head. “No. I know how I feel. I know how you feel, too.”

“Yeah, but I can’t…” Bill shrugged his helplessness. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Bill. Only child want promise. I am not child.”

“No, you’re not.” Knowing he shouldn’t, Bill looked for a way to keep him. It was easy. Every time Anton spoke his name, he lapped it up. He’d heard his name his entire life but it had never sounded so wonderful. Looking at Anton he realized how familiar he was and yet how entirely unknown. “Soarta” He did his best to reproduce the sounds.“Is that Russian?”
“No.” Looking offended, Anton furrowed his brows. “Romanian.”

“Romanian. I didn’t know.” Suddenly, Bill wanted to know everything about this man. And he wanted to change the subject. “How long have you lived here?”

“Eight years. I am citizen now.”

“You trained here?”

“I train in Romania and then here,” he said. “It made to come here more easy. People at home think I am crazy to do this work. They laugh. You know, they say only girls do this. But I am here and they are there. And there is nowhere. No work. No money. Nothing.”

Bill had been seeking distraction but found another reason to care. Never before had Anton mentioned himself much less spoken at length. No wonder he was a dedicated caregiver. It was more than a job. It was a path to a better life. He knew Anton was smart, but the feat he’d just described required a lot more than intelligence. It required courage, the same courage he was showing now. The conversation had both lowered the temperature and brought them closer. No longer touching, they maintained a friendly distance. But neither made a move to leave. The door was right there. Anton was all dressed to leave. But they were in their own private bubble and the world had disappeared.

“I understand what you say before, you know, about us,” Anton said. His words were steeped in admiration. “You do this for Pierre. You make…How do you say? Sacrifice. You make sacrifice for him. This is beautiful.” His smile turned winsome. “Not good for me but good for him and he more important.”

“You’re important, too.”

“Of course. I am caregiver.”

“You’re more than that, Anton. You know that, right?”

“Yes. Maybe. I am confuse, I think.”

“Me too,” Bill sighed. “Me too.”

“So we are same!” That smile again. He seemed to have untapped reservoirs of enthusiasm.

“I guess we are,” Bill agreed and suddenly they were back where they started. Close. Too close.

Just then he heard his name being called once again. This time the intonation was familiar. Cocking his head, he listened. It was Pierre. He was calling him. Not urgently. He wasn’t in distress. He was wondering where Bill was which was an understandable concern. Bill had escorted Anton to the door some time ago and they’d gone quiet since. The bubble burst and Anton grabbed the door handle and turned it. As he watched him, Bill felt many things — unrequited lust, absolute joy, and the feeling that whatever nearly happened shouldn’t.

“He’s calling me. I have to go.”

“We talk soon?” His eyes glowing in the dark, Anton waited for a reply.

“Yeah,” Bill gushed and then shut his trap.

Looking up from under his deep black brows, Anton smiled an odd little smile. For such a big man, he looked almost coquettish and Bill felt something stir. Reaching down, he didn’t go for his crotch but for his pocket and he pulled out Anton’s business card and brandished it in the air. Again, he was trying to alleviate the tension but only wound it up.

“Maybe I’ll come to that gym one day.” There he’d done it. He’d said too much.

Anton blushed. He blushed often, at least with Bill, and the face that looked like it had never seen the sun flared a wild pink. “You make fun of me.”

“No, never. Just a bad joke.”

“I know,” he said with that hundred-watt smile. “I call very soon. See how you are. You and Pierre. Okay?”