George sits down at the table across from Rafael and sees the corners of his mouth form a slow, quiet and rare smile. His smiles seldom display happiness, joy or humor. His smiles are not generated unconsciously from the soul, the place deep within that makes humans human. They do not spontaneously spread across his face. Instead, they are usually brief, forced and emotionless. It is as if he knows that societal norms tell him, "now is the time to smile," so he does. But, he doesn't feel them. Maybe, he doesn't know how to smile. Maybe, he forgot. Or maybe, he really has little to smile about.
He couldn't really be blamed for having no reason to smile. But, the world doesn't know that. He is a peacock, flashy, showy and sharp. The outside world has no idea why. They all think he's too fast. Always fast and in all ways fast. Fast talking, fast with his wit, and fast with sarcasm.
Sarcasm is his impregnable shield. He firmly clings to his shield, holding it up in front of him, bracing against it, and raising it lest anyone try to wrangle it away from him. It is what makes him invincible.
Until now. He has grown tired of his invincibility and of his shield. It is time, finally, to lower it, not to the ground, but maybe by a few inches, and to let someone peer over it. Being invincible is exhausting, and his shield is getting heavy. He sighs and smiles sadly at the man across the table.
George looks at him and smiles a smile as sad as his own. Rafael senses the understanding in his gentle and non-judgmental gaze. He is compassionate, knowing and kind. He has no expectations and doesn't demand answers from him. He lowers his shield a little more. George wants to take it away from him, and toss it away, but he can't do that for him. Instead, he nudges it a little lower, leans in, and gets a better view.
Memories that Rafael spent a lifetime trying to bury sprout and flourish. With desperation he tries to cover them and stomp them out, but the floodgate has been breached. Rushing like white-water in a raging river, they pour from him, uncontrolled and chaotic. His own words stun him, but not George, who is calm and steady.
Words, harsh and hateful tore him apart until he believed them and became numb.
Angry hands, shaking and hitting, until finally he stopped feeling pain.
False comfort and empty apologies betrayed him in the night, and he ran out of tears.
Devoid of anything, and deserving of it all is how he explained his feelings. George shook his head and told him that that was not true. Rafael had never heard that before. It was a novel concept to him. He studied George's face and knew that he wouldn't lie. Until now, he had no inclination to ever let someone see over his shield. He took a deep breath, and lowered it a bit more.