I must have dozed off because my phone startles me when it goes off. I answer the call, sounding just as shitty as I feel.

“Hello?”

“Hey… I found your note. Sorry, did I wake you?” It’s Rashid. His voice is sending shivers down my spine, evoking echoes of my nightmare.

“Hi… no… sorry… I… no, you didn’t. Sorry, I had to go last night. Bruno needed to be fed…” It’s a lame excuse, and we both know it. “Want to meet up later?”

“Sure… that’s why I’m here.” I can hear the smile in his voice. At least he’s not upset that I left.

“I could use a run… wanna join me?”

He agrees, and we meet at the riverfront an hour later. For a change I make it to our meeting point first, but he doesn’t keep me waiting long, walking down Toulouse Street with two paper cups and a bag. He smiles at me when he spots me and greets me with a kiss on my cheek. I almost recoil from him, the images from my nightmare still so vivid in my mind. Get a grip, Dupree!

“Sorry, there was a queue. I got us breakfast.” He explains unnecessarily. We find a bench overlooking the Mississippi, and I take one of the cups. He offers me a croissant from the bag, but I shake my head, staring out at the water, sipping my coffee. There’s silence between us, and after a while I realise it’s not really fair to punish Rashid for something that he hasn’t even done or knows about.

“So, when do you have to leave again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he replies. “It’s a stupid long flight with a layover in Phoenix and then another hour drive with a rental.” I can feel his hand on my back, warm and reassuring. “But the job shouldn’t take too long. Maybe I can come back as early as Wednesday or Thursday.”

“That’d be nice.” I can hear myself say. Nice? Nice?! Honestly, Dupree, snap out of it!

I turn to look at Rashid to add a smile to my words, but I can see the concern in his eyes. I quickly face the other way again.

“Wendell… are you alright?”

I mumble something about being fine, but he isn’t deflected that easily.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like absolute shit.”

I snort. “Thanks, man.” His hand is still on my back, his thumb rubbing circles onto my spine. “Sorry… just… didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Do you want to lie down?” he suggests.

“Here?”

“Why not?” he shrugs. “Use me as a pillow,” he suggests, a gentle hand resting on his legs.

As I do, I catch the scandalised look of a middle-aged man. Yes, I am aware I’m placing my head in another man’s lap, but I’m facing the wrong way to give him a blowjob. Mind out of the gutter, dirty old man! To stop me from yelling at the guy, I close my eyes and count to ten.

Rashid’s hand is on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it. Seagulls are crying overhead, and I can smell the damp grass around us. A cool breeze drifts over us, laced with a faint hint of fish. I can feel Rashid shift underneath me and realise I’ve actually fallen asleep.

“Sorry…” I can hear him murmur. “Go back to sleep.”

I rub my hands over my face and sit up. “Did I really…?”

He smiles at me. “You were pretty out of it for a while. Feeling better?” His fingers brush against my cheek.

“Yeah, I guess…” I start. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

He doesn’t let me finish, just pulls me close and kisses me. It’s missing last night’s oomph, but it’s one of those soft and tender kisses that makes you want to lean into them, lose yourself in them, and forget about your troubles. When we break apart, I hide in his neck. There’s a dip just above his collarbone that I decided is the perfect fit for my forehead, as if it was made just for me to rest. I inhale deeply the scent that is so unmistakably Rashid, spicy with just a hint of honey. It helps to drive the ghosts away. This is my Rashid, the real one.

“Remember the kids we saw the first time we came here?” He asks, and I nod in return. “I was so jealous of them that day. I wished it could’ve been us, making out like they did.”

“Mhmm… and look at us now.” I mutter into his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to my crown.

We end up spending the day together, only separate briefly to take a shower at our respective places after our run, and meet up in the evening at Gianna’s, a rustic Italian place which has delicious house-made pasta and grilled vegetables. Rashid walks me home afterwards, and we spend a considerable amount of time kissing on my doorstep. He doesn’t want to come in, saying I’d need a good night’s sleep. I don’t tell him I sleep better when he’s by my side and instead watch him leave, going back to his hotel.

We meet up again the next day at Rosalie’s for brunch before he heads off for the airport. Basically, we spend all weekend in public where we can kiss and hold hands but without temptation for anything else.

The next few days, I don’t hear much from Rashid. The place where he’s staying, somewhere outside Benson, Arizona, has the world’s worst cell phone reception. It’s just enough for the occasional text message to get through. He manages to call me on Wednesday – not sure which mountain he had to climb to get a signal – and tells me he won’t make it back as soon as he thought after all. Probably not before the weekend. Maybe not even that.

He sounds downcast, so I know he’s sincere. He apologises and promises to make it up to me. I tell him it’s fine. What else can I say? It’s work.

The next phone call I receive is on Monday. He’s at the airport. But not on his way to New Orleans. He’s headed for the next job in Manning, Colorado. Whatever they’re making him do there. He says if things go according to plan, he can probably stay in New Orleans for five days, maybe a week, afterwards. He keeps talking about all the things we could do in that week, maybe go on a boat cruise or have a drink at Lafitte’s?

His list of things we could do doesn’t include sex. Or just spending time alone. I think he’s avoiding being alone with me. Or just being with me. He’s having second thoughts about what happened in his hotel room. Not that much happened. I remember the hesitation in his eyes before he took off his shirt. Did I pressure him? Was it too soon? He’s so open about his sexuality; I feel like he would have just said it. Unless…

Unless my dreams are giving me the answer. Maybe he thinks I’m just too used up and too far gone for someone like him. I try to tell myself it’s just in my head. Why would he spend time with me, hold me and kiss me if he thought I wasn’t worth a dime? But the weeks go on. My nightmares keep coming back but Rashid is not. It is getting harder and harder to keep them apart.

It’s been almost three weeks when my phone rings again. It’s pretty late, but I recognise Rashid’s number. When I pick up, I can hear music playing in the background. It sounds like a Bollywood movie.

“Hey, guess what?” He sounds rather cheerful.

“What…?!” I can’t help it; his good mood makes me grin.

“Guess who’s in a taxi to downtown New Orleans right now?”

My hand, mid-stroke on my kitten’s black fur, goes still. Bruno gently snaps at my hand, a not-so-subtle demand to keep going.

“You are…?” I’m baffled.

“Surprise!” He laughs. “We finished early today, and I just hopped on the next plane. Sorry, I didn’t call ahead.”

I’m too stunned to say anything.

“Are you at home? Can I come over?” He asks hopefully.

“Now?” I croak a little hoarsely.

“If that’s alright with you? Or we can meet up tomorrow. At Rosalie’s?” His enthusiasm is clearly dimmed.

“No… no… now is fine. Bruno and I are at home. Actually there’s something that came in the mail today that I wanted to show you.” I’m actually a little nervous about his reaction.

“Oh yes, what is it?” He enquires.

“Let’s call it my surprise for you.” I say teasingly.

We hang up, and not long after, I open my door to his grinning face. He just drops his bags as soon as he steps over my threshold and wraps his arms around me. He smells of aeroplanes and travelling, but underneath it, there’s his unique Rashid scent. I inhale deeply. This is not a dream; this is reality. He is really here.

“God, I missed you so much.” He squeezes me so tightly, I get a little worried about my ribs.

“I missed you, too.” I laugh.

And then our mouths are too busy kissing to say anything else. Passionately this time, and I don’t doubt for one moment that he missed me a lot. I respond just as hungrily, and my body arches against his instinctively.

When we break apart, our breathing has become a little heavier, and he leans his forehead against mine.

“Wow… let me catch my breath for a moment.”

I grin, loving his response. “Are you ready for my surprise?”

I unfold myself from his embrace, pick up the envelope from my desk and present it to him with a big smile.

“What is it?” He takes it, his expression caught somewhere between bemusement and delight.

“Open it!” I demand.

He does and frowns slightly at the letterhead.

“It’s a clean bill of health. I’m officially as fit as a fiddle!” I’m too excited to allow him enough time to read through all the results: “Tested negative for HIV, Chlamydia, Gonorrhoea, Syphilis, and a whole list of other stuff.”

When Rashid keeps staring at the letter, I explain further: “Annual check-ups with Dr Bhansali used to be part of my contract with the vampires. It was coming up this summer, and they tried to call me, but I ignored it. Anyhow, I had it now. Dr Bhansali is a vampire doctor…”

“I know who he is…” Rashid looks between the letter and me, clearly not quite comprehending. “That’s great, Wendell… congratulations. Was there ever any doubt about it? Did you have any symptoms? You never said anything…”

“No, I just thought…” I pause. “I just thought you might be worried about it.”

“Why would I be worried?”

“That you catch something from me. If we… if we had sex?” Putting it bluntly, Dupree.

“I… what?” He’s clearly dumbfounded.

“There are also no traces of vampire blood left inside of me.”

I can see Rashid’s eye bulge.

“Louis… gave me his blood once.” I explain. Something that’s not in my file, huh? “Anyhow, it’s gone now. Dr Bhansali says they’re still studying the long-term effects of vampire blood on humans, but since it was only the once, he says it maybe added a few extra months to my lifespan, tops. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Wendell, honestly… where is this coming from?” He looks utterly bewildered.

I stare down at my feet. The idea that he might have qualms about an infection had come to me over the past few weeks, and I remembered a number of missed calls and ignored e-mails over the summer. My hope to dispel his doubts with an official document evaporates. “You’re avoiding me. You’re avoiding every situation where we could be alone.”

“I’m not. I’m here now. We are alone now.” He lifts his arms in exasperation.

“Okay… then let’s do it.” I start taking off my shirt and unbuttoning my jeans. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. It’s like my brain’s running on high voltage and the fuse is about to burn out.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Let’s have sex.” I kick my jeans aside and stand in front of him in my black boxer briefs. He still stares at me in disbelief. It’s only when I start rolling down my underwear that he jumps into action and grabs my wrist.

“Stop, Wendell! You don’t have to do this.” His voice sounds pained.

“Don’t you want me?”

“That’s not the point…”

“You can have me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Wendell…” He lets go of my wrist and runs his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in different directions.

“You know what I used to do, don’t you? It’s in my file.” It’s less a question, more a statement.

“Yes, I do…” he confirms, his voice almost inaudible.

I’ve always suspected it, but hearing it from him is another blow. Before I met Rashid, I always had this vague notion of making a fresh start one day. Meeting someone who doesn’t know about my past. Who just loves me for who I am now, untainted by my past. And he just confirmed he could not be that person. The pain adds to the simmering cauldron inside of me. Pent-up resentment and humiliation meet crushed hopes and unfulfillable dreams.

“So if you’re not worried about catching an STD from me… is that it, then? You don’t fancy putting it where roughly half of the male population of New Orleans already had it? At least that’s what it felt like…” I snarl at him, no longer caring about sugarcoating my words.

He sits down on my couch and buries his face in his hands. “Wendell, can we please just…”

“Do it then. Fuck me.”

He doesn’t look up and shakes his head.

“Do I disgust you so much that you can’t even look at me? Just a cum-stained footnote, huh?” I spit the words at him. “Do you think I liked taking it up the ass every other night? Have any dirty scumbag shove his dick in my mouth? Do you think I enjoyed it?”

He just shakes his head again, his face still covered so I can’t see it. I anticipated – and feared – this moment for so long, and his indifference makes the cauldron inside me explode.

“Then fucking do it! Fucking do me!” I’m yelling, no longer caring about anything.

“No, Wendell, I won’t. Not like that.” His voice sounds hollow and defeated.

I grab the first thing that my hands can reach – which turns out to be Bruno’s empty food bowl – and smash it against the wall. It’s made of wood, so it just bounces off and makes my cat, who’s already hiding underneath my bed, yelp in panic and take cover behind my couch. Behind Rashid. Fucking traitor.

“Fuck you, Rashid. Fuck! You!” I storm out onto the terrace. There’s not far to go, and I take my rage out on the railing, pounding it with my fists until my hands sting. I drop my elbows onto it, head bent low. As the last drop of energy drains away, I let myself slide down against the wooden frame. It scrapes my back, but I barely feel it through the numbness.

I can see a figure standing in the doorframe illuminated by the light inside my room.

“Fucking leave me alone, Rashid…” My voice is raw and on edge, just like the rest of me. I close my eyes as tears start streaming down my face.