I never mention which beach.
I never give her any details that might lead the drunk monster my way.
I’ve stopped writing my name at the end.
Just an initial.
She’ll know who M is.
I’m the only M in her life.
???
That first week or two as we settle back into reality, it’s not so bad.
We try to keep the flame burning, even in secret.
When the lights are out, and the hallway is finally silent, I leave my bed.
Tiptoeing next door, I seek comfort in those arms.
My Porter.
The one from the beach.
At least until the crows began to sing, then the facade resumes.
Monday arrives.
Best day of the week.
Our eyes are barely open, warm bodies and sleepy smiles.
“Can I stay under the covers with you?” I ask.
Oops, I said that a little too loud.
“Wish you always could,” he sighs. “Whisper though. They might hear us.”
I pull a face.
“Don’t worry, they'll piss off soon. And then it will be just us.”
“Just us.”
We doze off again, stupid enough to let our guard down.
Bang bang bang.
That’s all the warning we get before the door bursts open.
Not enough time for me to hide behind the sheet.
“Come on pansy boy, join us for a game.”
The slur from Damien cuts deep.
I can see it in Porter's eyes.
