“There?” he says, pointing to the undulating tiled mosaic bench. Great. We’re back to one word at a time. I see a section of the bench covered in fragmented blue tile and walk over to sit down.
I hold the camera in front of me. Hayes is standing a few feet away looking down. “Do you need a minute?”
“I don’t,” he says. I’m not sure if I should count the contraction as one word or two, but either way we are still at a maximum of three words. He sits next to me, faces the camera and says, “Go ahead.”
I lower the camera. “I’m not sure this is what Aisha wants. She wants something more…”
“Right, of course. I mean it’s just all to keep them happy,” Hayes says. I wish he had kept everything below two words now.
I move closer to him and he mechanically puts his arm over me, resting his hand on my shoulder but barely making contact. I try to maneuver under him so I can feel his forearm on the back of my neck but when I do, he fidgets again and moves his hand down to my waist so there is no skin-to-skin contact. Fine. If that’s what he wants.
I take a few pictures but when I hold the phone in my lap to review the shots I can tell something is wrong. We look like two mannequins stuck in a trash bin.
I turn to Hayes. “Okay. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all morning. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. No. Not at all. No way.” He’s emphatic in his response but I can’t tell if it’s sincere.
I don’t know what I was hoping for. That one night of incredible hot sex would erase everything that happened between us? That feeling that undeniable connection would be enough to make us forget all the reasons we haven’t been together over the last year? But I thought it was maybe, sort of, perhaps a start.
I look out over Barcelona. In the distance I see the edges of dark blue clouds with almost black centers. Even though the sea is off in the distance below I can still smell the briny, raw aroma. I inhale and take in the view. This doesn’t have to be a big thing. We aren’t college kids using our feelings to figure out who we are or what we want. We are adults starting our lives and a mature sensible conversation is in order.
“Do you want to talk about last night?” I ask. A gentle and non-threatening invitation, I hope.
“It was nice. I liked it.” He sounds like a fourth grader delivering a report on a book he didn’t read.
I reapproach. “Are you sure we shouldn’t talk?” I ask.
Silence.
“Hayes, don’t ice me out. I hate that. You know I hate that.” I’m trying to remain calm but it’s not working. I’m remembering all the old feelings of anxiety around not knowing what he wants and I don’t like it. I don’t like who they make me. I don’t want to be some emotional mess begging Hayes to communicate. Begging him to be in this thing with me. Either he’s in or he’s out. What could have happened to make him change his mind about me so quickly?
“Brady, I’m just a little tired from last night, and we had too much wine. That’s all. It was great. I had a great time with you. I did. I really did. There is nothing we need to talk about right now.”
“Okay,” I say, scrutinizing his face. Hayes is not a good liar, mostly because he rarely ever does it. The thing about lying is that you need to practice it so often it doesn’t even feel like lying. I scan his eyes. Something is not making sense.
We walk around the park and capture a few more photos but really, we’re just running through the motions. The interior of the park is less colorful, more organic and raw. The Hypostyle Room, a vaulted open-air market hall near the back contains a dozen or so columns made of rough stone intentionally positioned close together. In Gaudí’s work there are always two elements battling for dominance. There are the playful colorful mosaics of the benches outside, and then there is the darker, more primal feeling of the room of columns. Right now, I’m only able to connect to this darker side.
We begin the walk back to town, down the hill in silence. I decide to pretend like nothing has happened. We are co-workers who had a tumble in bed. Maybe that’s all it was. Nothing more. I wanted it to be more, but I wanted it to be something new also. I don’t want incredible highs followed by periods of not knowing what he’s thinking and feeling shitty.
I try to make conversation with him to fill the awkward silence. “Do you think we should try some tapas? There’s a place not far from here.”
“Sure,” he says.
“Or should we visit the Picasso Museum, or do something more gay?”
His response: “Whichever.”
It’s almost the middle of the afternoon, when the city rests for siesta. It’s a chance to get out of the intense sun, so we head back to the hotel, although the last place I want to be is in the room alone with him.
We walk into the lobby and the glazed botanical-themed tiles that decorate the former station glow in the afternoon sun. A man from the front desk calls me over to tell me I have a message. I tell Hayes to go up. I’m sure it’s Aisha checking up on us. I figure a little time away from each other will help him sort through whatever is going on his head.
“You said there was a message for me? Was it from Aisha?” I ask the concierge wearily. It’s exhausting having her micromanage everything we’re doing. I’m sure she has a million changes to the itinerary and notes on how we can look more authentic.
“No,chico.” He flips through some papers and then hands me a note. “It is from a person named Otto. He lost his phone and has a new number, he says. Here it is.” He hands me a slip of paper with the hotel’s logo across the top in elegant green and gold script and a number scrawled across it.
“Gracias,” I say and walk to a plush chair in the corner in the corner of the lobby by the refreshment bar so I can process everything.
Of course, Otto found out I’m heading to Berlin. I knew he would be there. I even worried about running into him, which is silly because it’s such a big city. I hold my phone in my hand, staring at it. If I had gotten this message last night, I would have thrown it away and not given it a second thought, but after the day I had with Hayes, with him being so distant and cold, I’m considering my options.
