Through the Eye of the Beholder...

A snapshot of an angular faced skinny boy with a very short haircut, in soldier style, caught his attention for quite a long while. The open cardboard box placed on top of the bed kept so many treasured memories of a lifetime gone by in the form of images printed on photographic paper.

He looked at the picture with careful interest, analyzing the details of that young face as if he had never seen it before. It was not exactly an unknown picture of an unknown person, but the boy had a feature he had never realized prior to that occasion. His eyes have never captured previously what Thomas called his attention to.

His mind wandered back in time, for a moment.

"You are so beautiful... so beautiful... I love every part of you ". That was what the younger man had stated straight to his face and without any shyness at all.

At first Joe had objected to that statement, blushing slightly, saying that he did not think he was minimally pleasant to the eye of anyone. But to himself, at the same time, he felt something new - something he had never experienced before: the pleasure of feeling sheer vanity. And that first time felt so good.

"Well, you have not seen yourself through my eyes”...

He was so right: the older man could not see himself through the other man’s eyes, especially taking into account that he was the only one who had said he had seen Joe that way.

"Then people have not seen you properly... They do not look very close at you”...

Never before had anyone used words like those, which his friend said so naturally (an overwhelmed old and somewhat crazy aunt does not count to that matter, of course) that day.

"Look in the mirror... look at yourself... you are a perfect man”...

Joe decided to avoid further confrontation, since there was not much he could say. He had always believed that "beauty was in the eye of the beholder ", but that time, proudly to himself – secretly - and then to Thomas, he asked:

“Oh, dear, where have you been all my life?”

The man looked back at the photo in his hands. He felt as if his feet were stepping some grounds he probably had not trodden before, for being afraid it would be too harsh or even unbearable to walk on, fearing it would hurt him too much somehow. To his standards - and to many people as well, he believed then - that was a beautiful boy. His eyes were lively and passionate. The lips were crimson colored and very well shaped.

In a flash of memory Joe recalled another occasion, in his school days, when a good friend of his told him he had beautiful ears after staring at his face for some time, leaving him embarrassed, both by the words and by her attitude... That was one of the only times in his life he heard kind words about his appearance.

Where had he been all this time? Was it already too late for him to realize what Thomas said to have seen the first time he looked at Joe and he never allowed himself to notice?

He remembered the day an old and wise iridologist declared, in front of a friend of his: "This man is like his father outside, but deep inside he is like his mother, always so correct and so tight... He has all the fears and concepts that are not his at all..." And that was so true. Why were his fears someone else’s? He thought of many occasions when concepts were forced upon him and he absorbed them as if they were his, but they were not, absolutely, in any way. He remembered, however, every time he rebelled against them, he was harshly criticized.

Joe lived a life full of unwise pursuits, often to be seen good by the eyes of others and to be given acceptance. Why had he ever needed any acceptance for anything at all? He realized that it was probably a concern arisen in his early age and concluded he had never missed his childhood or his teenage years. He never had. And why would he, if they were not the most fortunate phases of his dull life?

On second thought, he had been much happier alone, away from everyone, like a hermit in a cave, after he left home to work, almost a world apart from that in which he lived.

The man looked at some more pictures taken over the time... How many changes through the past years... how long had he lived in search of himself and a peaceful life, almost always taking the wrong direction and setting the focus off of his targets?  And Thomas seemed to see him so differently, since the day he first set his beautiful and deep blue eyes upon Joe... He told him things that no other person had ever said before.

People had not been watching him closely, according to the younger man’s point of view. Those comments made Joe feel so much better. He decided he wanted to be better, to be seen better... even if it were for Thomas’ eyes only. Because, according to what he said, Joe was special - as unique as the relationship they had for a brief moment in time - an intense affair of no longer than a week, full of passionate indulgence and contact. It had been magical when they were together. They found out they had so much in common. Words were not needed sometimes, as they had a connection of their own. Such a short time together and so much understanding and fun… and passion… Definitely a time to keep in their memories for a lifetime.

Although a bit late like most things in his life, Joe started to have more concerns about his physical appearance and his dietary routine. He began to look more at himself and try to see what he had not seen for so long. His body responded to the wishes of his shiny hazel eyes and some muscles he had never developed before started to build up. Those were just new muscles good to see showing off. He felt so good he was no longer doing it for anyone else, but to himself.

His mind wondered back in time again.

“A couple of weeks - not much longer”…

That was what Thomas had said when left away on a trip to a distant place. It was not what the calendar on the table showed, however. Time was going on very, very slowly. Joe crossed the days that passed by him blankly and at a snail's pace with red "X’s", which were accumulating in the painful and slow counting of the day after day routine. Several weeks after the young man’s sudden departure, in search of himself, Joe was still waiting for a contact, hopefully checking the mailbox, which was always agonizingly empty, uncountable times  - morning, afternoon, evening and night  - in a time which had turned out too long to wait for a nightmare to end.

A couple of months later, without receiving any news or any indication of contact, he finally realized something was not right and history could be repeating itself one more time. Joe felt heavy in his heart and in his mind and started imagining facts he did not have any evidence they really happened at all. His sharp intuition told him to be careful and be prepared for the worst. In his mind, he pictured Thomas had probably met another person - on the trip he wanted to find himself and get centered and in focus again - with whom he began a serious and lighter affair, disconnected from his past. Perhaps he had put up a big rock over his past in order to begin a new relationship completely renovated.

Joe hoped this time could be different but he was not surprised when Thomas finally came back and told him what was going on. He was right, after all. The younger man approached the older one gently, as if afraid of hurting him, little knowing that Joe’s heart was already covered with a protective shell made of tough and impenetrable steel – or at least he thought he was. He should have been more prepared to that - it would neither be the first nor the second time that he was wrong for waiting for something that would never happen – for someone who would never come back to him.

 It was then that he realized a small problem with his so proudly kept sanity. The steel shield seemed to have a small crack, large enough to affect his discernment… and he felt his heart grieving deeply. He cursed himself for being such a fool again and again… and again…

Thomas tried to explain the situation, saying he did not anticipate to go through that, did not mean to hurt Joe, but was so involved with the other person that he could not just throw everything out into the air, hurting the one who had helped him recover. Knowing that his good friend was strong enough to understand his reasons, he expected and believed Joe would forgive him.

From his part Joe knew he had to be stronger than he had ever imagined he would be in his life and was forced to swallow his pain and his unprepared pride.

“Friends?”

“Yes, of course. We'll be friends forever”…

Joe struggled not to lie to his friend or to himself. He was torn, hurt, disappointed.

“May I see you?”

“Not now. I do not want you to see me cry. Another time… another day...  not now. Please”...

Thomas was silent for a brief moment then gave in.

Joe collapsed. He felt used and alone again. He was defeated by circumstances far beyond his control: his friend being in love with someone else. His younger and mended heart did not belong to Joe after all.

In his mind Joe saw himself as a broken man limping alone in a vast desert, not knowing where he was going to. He was deeply disappointed again. Looking - without really seeing - to the computer screen, he felt a great sadness involving his body in its embrace and its long and cold icy fingers trying to suffocate his breath and his voice, which turned into a groan of pain - a deep and excruciating pain, which hurt him deeply inside, like a sharp razor slowly ripping his poor soul apart.

The desert increased in size around Joe. It seemed infinitely vast and lonely.

The man turned the computer off. He did not want to see or talk to anyone else, perhaps for the rest of his distressed life. Feeling extremely tired, he threw himself in the enormous bed in the sleeping chamber. He did not want to think about how much time had passed without contact, nor pray to have news the next day anymore.

Considering better, after long minutes of anguished thinking, he understood exactly what happened to Thomas while he was physically so far away from him. Joe forced his emotions to cool down a little and put his wrecked reason ahead of his broken heart. Thomas was right. If there were someone who he had encountered during a detachment process of healing - as the younger man called it - Joe would have certainly clung to him too as to a lifeline. He needed to forget or at least to soften what he ever felt for the other man, who awakened in him a new way to enjoy and appreciate beauty.

He fell asleep after some time rolling from one side to the other in a bed that seemed to have become enlarged in size, increasing the space between his lean and small body and the empty and cold loneliness he felt at that moment.

He dreamed he was walking alone and barefoot, aimlessly, but always in the direction of a horizon he could not really spot in front of his eyes, in an infinite desert of glacial and white snow... The incredibly cold numbness in his feet was spreading quickly up through his body.

A bell rang in the distance, making him raise his head in surprise. He tried to find the source of the sound, but the blizzard striking his tired eyes prevented him from seeing beyond a few feet ahead of his cold face. The bell rang again. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head backwards in absolute fright, knowing that he was walking alone in that desert of so whitish colorless ice flakes...

Waking up anxiously, he opened his eyes to find out it was his frantic cat who was nudging his shoulder, calling his attention to the doorbell which had been ringing non-stop, leaving the poor animal uneasily upset with the noise. Joe jumped up in the dark, rushing to the door and opened it, without even looking first through the peephole.

A young man of about 1.90 meters tall, with athletic and well proportioned body was standing in front of him, looking at his dumbfounded face, somewhat awkwardly, with his deep blue and anxious eyes. Joe was still sleepy, disheveled and inappropriately dressed.

“I could not sleep, my friend. I needed to see you so madly”...

Joe looked at him incredulously, not knowing what to say. Still standing right there at the door, Thomas stepped toward the other man and pulled him firmly but gently against his chest. He put his strong arms around his rather overwhelmed older and good friend and felt his own tall and fit body shake while the other man seemed somewhat smaller, extremely fragile and completely surrendered in that embrace.

Then he whispered softly in his friend’s ear: “I'm sorry... I am so sorry”…