Swift as a Coursing River | Ongoing

11. Building bridges

Ellen ordered him to seek Vincent out, but Edwin still waits for the next weekend. He's not going out midweek, when he has to work the next day, and this way, he can mentally prepare himself for the confrontation. He needs that time because Vincent will tear him to shreds without mercy if he's not honest, if he doesn't know what he's saying and why.

Over the course of the week, the more he thinks about it, the more trepidation stacks up, until it's a wonky tower, more unstable than he feels in Vincent's presence and threatening to crush him when it falls. And fall, it will, because Vincent will push. He always pushes, with or without words. And Edwin will be alone, no Caroline or Eliane to be his refuge when he flees. They won't witness his shame, but without familiar faces, the bar is Vincent's space, not a place where Edwin belongs.

On Friday evening, after dinner, he opens his wardrobe. It's the end of September and autumn has officially started, so Caroline can't criticise him for hiding his body under layers of clothes. He's going out to apologise, not to look nice and attract attention. In fact, he'd rather be invisible until he can catch Vincent. But in an LGBT karaoke bar, what passes for invisible? Since he apparently looks like a straight man.

Edwin clenches his jaw and creases the fabric of his favourite moss green jumper under his fingers. He does not care. He can't trust Vincent's sense of fashion since his standards are so vastly different from his own. And Caroline ... She's right that he never worried much about what to wear, but he's grateful for that. Ellen was never superficial. He doesn't want to impress Vincent. It doesn't matter if he's hiding his assets or if he looks straight. He can apologise without dressing like Vincent. He doesn't have to prove he's gay.

That still stings. Vincent claimed he would never tell anyone who they are, but he constantly stressed how much Edwin looks and acts like a straight man. Is that not invalidating? He's a man attracted to men; that's the definition of being gay. No other requirements.

It takes ten minutes before Edwin settles on his favourite jumper and loose brown slacks. It's comfortable and he needs that today. Vincent can shove his opinion where the sun doesn't shine.

He turns in front of the mirror and studies how he looks from the side. He pulls his shoulders back and straightens his jumper. Confidence is key. Confident and humble, that's how he should approach Vincent. Not feeling guilty for anything he didn't do.

***

When Edwin nears Bonaparte, his dread rises. He's alone, and he's entering the lion's den. With a deep breath - shoulders back - he walks in. The music overwhelms him like an avalanche of sound, without a conversation to distract him and keep up his walls. He glances around, but Vincent isn't anywhere to be seen. Edwin's not sure if that's a relief or a hardship.

He seeks his way to the bar and orders a beer. Perched on a stool, he can observe the entrance and most of the floor, while the wooden counter provides a measure of security in his back. Heads full of hair or shorn or in rare cases balding float over arms and hidden bodies, lapping at the shores of the bar. Edwin's eyes glide over them, but they all blur together. He sees flashes of skin as dark or darker than Vincent's, and glitter and colourful clothes, but not the man himself. Maybe he won't even show up today. This might be his home, but maybe he is skipping this one Friday. Maybe he's not a regular like that and doesn't come on the same day at the same time every week. Edwin glances at his watch. It's still early. He should wait another half hour.

While he sips on his beer, the music doesn't attack his senses anymore, like his brain has given up on pushing back and screaming. Instead, it passes through him in waves, lifting him up and weighing him down. Looking at the crowd, it seems less like a sea where he will drown and more like a lake where he can swim.