A Matter of Tact

Traffic was at its all-time slowest this morning. I let down the window and put my head through. After peering as far as my straining eyes could see, I slid back into my seat and perched my arms up on the steering wheel.

I was tired, sleepy, feeling worn out, and it didn’t make matters any better that I left home an hour early to dodge the morning traffic. I got caught up in it anyhow… And now, I was dozing at the wheel.

I took another long look up ahead, out into the traffic disappearing into the misted grey of morning and took one portly breath. Then, I took one look at the clock/radio and surmised that I’d still make it to work slightly ahead of schedule.

If I had known I’d still run into traffic despite my efforts, I would have laid in bed a bit longer… I would have drank in Seth’s dark scent a tad more slowly… I would have chanced to graze the back of his neck with my lips just before climbing out of bed. But in my hurried confusion, I jumped right out of bed and left him there, without so much as a goodbye. I sometimes wonder if he knows how much I actually care since I leave him alone so often…

I took my foot off of the break and eased the car up a few feet. Then after a minute or two, I put it back in park.

Yes, I think of Seth often… We’ve been together since my second year of college—and now that we’ve both graduated and migrated into the working world, we managed to move in together and start a life of stability all on our own.

My parents—don’t know about us yet. And, I don’t know how much longer I can keep our relationship a secret. It’s not that I’m ashamed of him, no. My parents just wouldn’t understand him or rather--they wouldn’t understand me wanting to be with him.

Oh shit--Traffic had become unstuck, and I was still aloof—parked in a sea of slow moving vehicles. Jolted into action by the sound of a blaring car horn behind me, I quickly put the car in drive and moved sluggishly towards my exit.

I work at a middle school… It’s good work, and I do enjoy teaching—but, the thing that makes me most afraid is the impression I make on developing minds.

Kids that age, 12 and 13, like to ask very personal questions about their teachers’ social lives, mainly because they are curious… and partially because they wish to emulate us…

And, quite a few students here idolize me. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Sure, I should be proud, but what do they know about me, really? Nothing. They’re all just as clueless as my parents.

I slipped up today whilst clowning around with some coworkers in the lounge.

They were all planning for the Thanksgiving intercession, and they asked whether me and my “significant other” would be having a sexy time alone or spending the holiday with relatives.

Needless to say, no one has ever heard me utter even a hint of Seth’s name… But, I almost said it, this once, when commenting that my idea of a “sexy time” would be bending his body at the waist and—cough, cough—excuse me.

The person nearest to me patted my back and they all encouraged me to continue… I declined—horrified at the realization that I had said “his” and no one had noticed.

Naturally, someone else picked up where I left off, and I quietly shrank behind the small group of educators huddled closely together and slinked out of sight.

Thinking of him in that way made me a tad hot under the collar. And once I got going, I couldn’t vanquish images of his lean, willowy body twisted in total submission to me—or images of his face, flushed with darkening rouge, whilst I kneel down in front of him in complete admiration… I ended up leaving work early that day.

For the first time in nearly three years, I was rattled and my composure was utterly indistinct. My attraction to Seth overcame my crafted secrecy… And, now my secret is in danger of being discovered by some uptight, busy-bodied coworker who may later discover my earlier slight of tongue.

And so, I imagine, this is how my decadence will begin:

“Mr. Reyan?”

“Yes?” I will answer.

“Funny thing, huh?”

I would look at whomever in a puzzled manner and raise a brow to evoke an explanation. And whomever will proceed with:

“I mean… funny how you said ‘his’ and no one caught it but me—“

Damn. And, even if I lie convincingly, the doubt will always impede… simply because I disappeared in lieu of correcting the blunder.

Today begins my unwelcomed transition. Before everyone’s very eyes, I will descend from the mountain top as Mr. Reyan, the Children’s Idol—Mr. Reyan, the Man—and by the time I’ve reached the bottom, I will have become Mr. Reyan, the Homosexual—a title handled with tact and bestowed with blaring secrecy.