He stands in the doorway and surveys the street in front of him. Nothing has changed; when changes come to this sleepy village they come slowly, like a dream only half-remembered, tomorrow creeping up on yesterday and smoothing it into today. The cobblestones are the same familiar colour they were when he played down them as a boy; the stone walls have weathered a hundred more storms since he took his first gasping breath, but the storms have touched them so softly the changes can’t be pinpointed except in broad sweeps, in decades and lifetimes. He cannot imagine how he will stand in this place so changed, when it does not change with him. Or has it – has it changed, so slowly he didn’t feel it?
The hand in his is the source of all his terror – and the most profound comfort he has ever felt.
“Are you ready?” the man asks him, and mutely he shakes his head. It only makes the other man smile wider, grip tighter. His heart flutters – he wonders if he is too old for a moment this profound. If his heart will breathe for the first time, and in so doing breathe its last.
—
Last night he ran away. Not far – just out the door, shadowed by the eaves of the bar. A light misty rain was falling, and he huddled in his old man’s jacket, feeling the weight of years on his tired bones. He was used to shame, knew it intimately; had nursed it, fought it, come to terms with it, conquered it, felt it rise and fall again and again. But tonight was different. Tonight was a celebration, and the shame was quiet and lethal, robbing him of breath, robbing him of a perfect moment he had hunted for all of his life. He heard the quiet presence at his side, Guillermo’s patience a balm and a thorn. He was a stranger in so many ways, but he felt he knew the other man in the same ways that he knew himself. So many years of hiding, of questioning, so many days of silence and nights of pain. They had found each other at this celebration, shared their stories over bitter beer and cigarettes. Guillermo had leaned in to kiss him – and he had wanted to – meant to – and found himself running.
“I’m too old for running,” he said, his voice choked with tears, but laughing at himself too, at the absurdity of this fear. And soothed by Guillermo’s answering laugh, by the understanding on his wrinkled face.
“Tell me what I can do for you,” Guillermo said.
He found the words, and as soon as he found them understood they were his, were what he needed; this first step into a world he thought would never be for him. “I’ve never walked down the street and held my lover’s hand,” he said.
—
He takes a step. The world goes on as quietly as before. People are beginning to stir, doors opening, shop windows cracked to help combat the deep and sullen heat that noon is already beginning to layer on the day. Guillermo’s hand in his is warm, soft and sure, and they walk out into the world together, for the first time. And his heart goes on breathing.
Image courtesy of Stuart Thursby. Stuart is an art director and photographer. This photo was taken during his adventures in the wilds of Germany, from which he has recently returned. To see more of his work, or to check out his portfolio, please visit StuartThursby.com.