To chance encounters.

I am at Sean and Phong’s apartment, sitting around the living table, each of us in our own chair. Small chats, questions, smiles, to get to know each other. There are half a dozen peace lilies on the floor next to the window, their leaves wavering with the wind from the balcony. On the table, a puddle of condensation is forming around the bottom of our mango smoothie cup. 

The conversation turns towards massage now. Why I did it, what I wish to accomplish. Phong mentions that he’s been having tight neck and shoulders lately, and I contemplate whether to offer him a massage or not. I hesitate for a moment too long, and the conversation shifts. I think to myself, if nothing happens, we’ll just sit here, talking for ages, so I stand, walk to him, offer him a massage. He smiles broadly.

I tell him it’s difficult to massage with his shirt on. It’s off before I can blink. He asks Sean to grab moisturizer as a substitute for oil, and I begin massaging his neck. I tell him it’s better laying down, and before I finish the sentence, he’s up, walking to the bedroom, lying flat on his stomach. He is eager.

So I massage him. Sean watches, curious, asking questions. Phong relaxes under my hands, enjoying the physical touch. My fingers follow the curve of his shoulders, the line of his spine. Afterwards, he turns to me, smiles, and we kiss again. Sean joins us.

Clothes are off.

We’re naked.

Rough. Intimate. Sweaty.

For the next hour, I am the center of their attention. We move, we laugh, we rest, we drink water. Phong reheats pizza while I stay in their bed, Sean holding me close. Cuddling. Kissing. My head rests on his chest. Silent. Still.

It feels really good to hug you, he says.

Why?

Because you’re comfortable in your own skin.

I think about that for a moment, about how far I’ve come on this personal journey. I thank him, warmly, and close my eyes. For a fleeting moment, I feel calm. I feel safe. I feel at peace.

I know this moment is temporary, fleeting, fragile.

It’s a space we created together,

a space that fades when Phong announces dinner,

a space tucked away when I’m in the shower,

a space yet to be found again when we sit to eat pizza at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night.

The TV plays Australian tennis. Outside, cars and trams and people rush by. We talk about how we met, piecing together the night from our own perspectives. And there it is, that feeling again. It sneaks up on me. Hits me, every time. Sadness.

They had stayed that night to see the stars. I had returned to see if they were still there. By chance, by luck, by serendipity, we found each other again. The universe must have had its reasons. A clearing of clouds, a night full of stars, all aligned to bring us together. Pawns placed on a chessboard, moving in ways we’ll never fully understand.

I am grateful for that night. Grateful for them. Grateful for the stars.

Still, I wonder, what’s next? I don’t know the answer to that. I’m not supposed to. Not yet.

The peace lilies will grow. The puddle under the mango smoothie will have long since dried.

And life will move on—

I hope, with all three of us,

in the same direction.