‘I haven’t been hurt by my friends as many times as you have,’ he says quietly. I touch his face, remembering that Bo had been hurt by a friend once. I see the pain and humiliation in him again.
If I ever find that guy . . .
‘No, don’t get angry,’ he whispers, and he kisses me.
This is what I need. To touch and to be touched. To live outside myself by letting someone else live inside of me. Finally, for the first time ever in my sewn-up little life, to open myself up fully and come out of the cocoon.
Bo insists on spreading out the blanket, on taking all of our clothes off first, on taking off his socks. It’s his sweetness that makes me want to gulp him down whole.
‘Wait,’ Bo gasps, pulling back even as I’m pulling him into me. ‘Are you sure?’
Of course I am.
I regain consciousness in the river.
‘Are you OK?’
Bo is holding me draped across his arms and I’m floating on the roiling surface of the river. It’s like flying. I see his pale face over mine, and I reach up to touch him.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘I think you fainted,’ he says. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. ‘There was some blood, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought you in here hoping the water would wake you – you really scared the shit out of me.’
‘Blood?’ I say muzzily. I try to sit up.
‘Easy,’ Bo says. ‘Let me get you to shore first. The water’s too fast.’
I can’t take my eyes off him as he wades over to shore, still holding me. I know vaguely that I should be embarrassed – I fainted; who faints when they have sex? – but I can’t be anything but happy right now.
He puts me on the mossy bank and jumps out of the river to sit next to me.
‘Does it hurt?’ he asks bashfully.
‘No,’ I say, grinning at him. I am sore, to be honest, but it’s a good sore. I can’t stop smiling. He smiles back at me, but he’s shaking his head, too.
‘You have no idea what you just put me through,’ he says, but now he’s laughing, and I’m laughing, and our shoulders are touching. The laughter dies, and we just stare at each other. Speechless.
He shivers violently, and I realize how cold I am.
‘Can you stand?’ he asks.
I nod, and he helps me to my feet. I’m woozy, but he steadies me. I look at the blanket.
‘That’s probably more blood than normal,’ is all I can say.
‘I hope so,’ Bo says. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised, and we both burst out laughing again.
‘The clozapine makes you bleed more, even for something small, but I didn’t even think about it for . . . this. I’m so sorry. I should have warned you,’ I say, and now I feel terrible for putting him through that.
‘No – I’m sorry,’ he says, worried again. ‘You sure you’re OK?’
I nod and move closer to him. ‘Better than OK.’
We flip the stained blanket over and lie down together. We intertwine our fingers and memorize every freckle, dimple, and scar. I never used to understand why people cry when they’re happy. I get it now.
I don’t know when we fell asleep.
‘Shit,’ Bo whispers.