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February 2010 Cover
February 2010 Cover

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February 2010 Email this to a friend
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A parked car in Palm Springs

By Matthew Link

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The sun was setting in Palm Springs, turning the mountains pink. It would be dark soon.
I logged onto the internet and right away heard from Adam. I had hooked up with the 26-year-old a few months earlier, and we had played online tag ever since. He wanted to see me right away.
I picked him up from his friend's place and took him to mine. We kissed, probably for the first time, and he pressed his body so close to mine it almost hurt. He was so much thinner and smaller than I remembered. His smooth Latin skin grated up against my hairy torso like it wanted to be scrubbed clean of something.
We stayed like this for a while, not so much having sex as just clinging to each other, breathing. His phone rang, and he hopped up. I remembered his phone was always ringing. There was some other plan on the horizon, some other formless idea of what to do with the coming hours.
"You wanna go over to my friend's place?" Adam asked me. "He lives at this gay clothing-optional apartment complex."
"Hmmm -- sounds interesting."
We buzzed the bell at the wooden gate, and his friend Dean answered, fully clothed. Strolling around the complex, I barely saw a soul. This wasn't the free-for-all party I had anticipated. But then it never is, is it?
Dean made us drinks in his modest one-bedroom apartment while we critiqued some bad porn. Neighbors popped their heads in the door, never staying very long. Finally, Adam's phone rang again. It was time to go off somewhere else, to pour ourselves into the unknown night.
"Mind if we stop by my car?" he asked.
I pulled up behind his parked four-door, and he popped the trunk. It was overflowing with clothes and belongings that almost spilled onto the ground.
"You got a place to stay, right?" I asked him when he got back into my car.
"Yeah, at my friend's. But most of my stuff is in my car."
"I lived in my car for a few weeks in college when
I was in between places, so I know how it is."
He looked at me sheepishly.
"There have been some nights that I have slept in my car," he said, holding up a bright orange ticket. "They may tow the car. It's been parked here too long. But I got a day or two to move it. Just need to get my friend with the jumper cables to start it up first."
The next stop was his friend's motel room. An older guy sat on the bed while a younger guy obsessively checked his iPhone. The air was thick with smoke from God knows what. I could barely breathe. I was glad when Adam announced we had to go.
"I can walk home from here," he told me in the motel parking lot. He was holding back the water in his eyes. "I'm sorry.
I'm such a mess."
I hugged him, but he eventually pushed himself away.
"Thanks for putting up with me tonight," he said. "Call me later, like in an hour or so."
"Why?" I asked. It came out wrong.
"Fine. Don't."
He walked away from me across the dark parking lot. I could only make out the shape of his light-colored pants. He would disappear into the darkness like a dim star obscured by a cloud, and that would be the last trace of him.
I thought about just letting go of his chaotic life. It wasn't worth it. His mess was his own. But as I turned out of the parking lot, I found myself near his car. He was fishing something out of the back seat. I rolled down my window.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I hope so," was his honest reply.

Author Profile:  Matthew Link

Matthew Link has written for numerous magazines and has appeared on many television and radio shows. His documentaries have aired on PBS stations and in international film festivals.

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