Page 16 of His Cruelest Moves

“I don’t think I can go on… My arms are…”

Alex scowled at him. At first he said nothing. But then after a short silence, he dropped to his knees.

“Let me see.”

Isard, whimpering in pain, held his arms forward. Alex took his right arm between both of his. Tenderly he examined it. Then he began to massage it softly.

“I’m sorry, I should have prepared you better for that,” he said.

He took Isard’s other arm between his hands, examining it carefully, and then massaging the muscle back to life.

“I’m sorry,” Isard said, his voice broken. “I don’t know what I’ve done to you, but it wasn’t intentional. My family… my family… is what it is. They might be strange to outsiders, but they’re the only family I’ve got.”

“Let’s not talk about this….”

“No, let’s. My dad met Diego when I was fifteen. I don’t know much about it, but I don’t think my parents ever had a very conventional marriage. They were both hippie kids, part of the gauche divine, as it was called here, upper-class progressives. And Mom was somehow cool with it all—at least in front of me. Dad’s no weirdo; he wasn’t trying to watch anything. He literally just wanted to make me a cup of tea and find out how the filming had gone. He had no idea I had company. Diego and he have been together for years and they’re actually the most traditional couple I know, and really happy together. But I totally get that the way you met him… was a bit much to deal with.”

They sat in silence on the tatami matting for a while, Alex simply massaging Isard’s arms.

“How’s that?” he finally croaked. “Are they feeling better?”

“Sore, bruised.”

“I… look, I’m not… judging you. But I’m from a pretty traditional background… I mean really traditional, not like yours. No one is more traditional than Chinese parents, and immigrant Chinese parents… that gives a whole other meaning to the word traditional.”

“I thought you said your Mom was born in Figueres?”

“She was, but not Dad. Mom’s dad was actually the first Chinese restaurateur ever in Figueres. I know that’s original—a Chinese family opening a Chinese restaurant. Dad came over on the boat.”

Isard said nothing. He loved hearing about Alex’s family, so different to his own, but wasn’t sure where Alex was leading with it. But Alex went on:

“Anyway, being born into a family like mine comes with heavy expectations.”

“Yeah? Try a wealthy Catalan one. My grandparents are—”

“Not even close, mate. We do traditional like we invented it.”

“Whatever.”

“OK, look, I freaked out. It wasn’t at your dad seeing us; it was that you both seemed so… relaxed—”

“Relaxed we were not! Dad seeing me suck dick is an embarrassment that will go with me to my grave. And for him too. But there was nothing… consciously inappropriate about that. He’s not like that, I swear. I’m twenty-four. I’ve known he was gay since I was fifteen. He’s known I was gay since I was seventeen. In that time, nothing weird or inappropriate has ever happened. Either with him, or with his husband, Diego. Rather, they’ve been amazing role models for me, growing up, and learning how to be a decent gay human being.” Isard paused, panting. “Please believe me.”

A short silence went by, and then Alex said:

“I do.”

There was another moment of silence, and then he slid his hands slowly, gently up Isard’s arms, reveling in the pale elegance of his biceps and triceps. Then gripping his shoulders, he gently pulled Isard toward him, until their faces were mere inches apart. Isard felt his breath warm upon his face, a slight aroma of ceder and lemon along with the other, saltier note of his perspiration that he hadn’t even known he’d missed. But his lips, when they kissed, were as soft as that first kiss, as soft as the snow of the Pyrenees, though deliciously warmer. They kissed for along time, but when Alex went to lay Isard down, he resisted.

“No, this feels weird. Not here, not where we’re working.”

“Sure, I get it. Let’s go then, and find somewhere…”

“Wait.” Isard paused, his hands on Alex’s chest. “Yes, I really want to do this. But you were right. We do need to be professional and not blow this chance we have. I have to make the best film I’m capable of, and you’ve got your work cut out teaching me Wing Chun in just a couple of weeks. Let’s focus on our professional priorities for now, and go on with this when we can at some future date.

“I hate you for saying that.” Alex leaned in and touched his forehead to Isard’s. “But I’m afraid you’re right.” He pulled away and stood up. “OK, ready to try that fall again? And this time, when I say ‘arms at forty-five degrees’, do like I told you!”

Isard nodded and scrambled to his feet. But just then they heard little Joanet’s voice calling: