I led him to the far row of the store where there were several shelves of foreign books. Ralph found a volume of Goethe, which he opened then started reading in German before translating the verses into English, lines about ascending a mountain in winter. I became aware as I listened that I had been in an altered state the entire night, physically present yet giddy over the prospect of being with this enchanting man.

“My English doesn’t do him justice,” he said when he was done, “but I suppose it’s not bad for a spontaneous translation.”

“Could’ve been better,” I joked as we walked out of the store and a clerk locked the door behind us. I took his hand and led him around the corner to Adams, made history and architecture small talk as we walked up to my suite on the second floor, opened the door to a long hallway that led to my room, one of the largest on campus. As I walked in, I could see lights from the café below, as well as the imposing brick facade of St. Paul’s Church, a building I’d never entered even though it shared its name with my beloved school in the Philippines, because it represented a religion that told me something I could never believe, that it was wrong for me to love another man.

I led Ralph to the futon and sat next to him as a streetlamp outside gave the room a dark yellow cast, and a shadow from my window frame cut a line across his face.

“Would you mind turning on a light?” he asked.

I turned on a halogen and sat down again, undeterred, facing him with one knee on the futon so it would be easier for us to kiss, but I felt him squeeze my hand.

“I like you a lot, but only as a friend.”

Ralph’s words took me so aback that I almost blurted out, “I don’t believe you,” but managed to keep myself in check. I wondered how I could have gotten his signals so wrong. Maybe being in a dorm room unnerved him, seeing the most apparent signs that I was still an undergrad. So why did he let things go so far, then? Why did he even agree to come back with me to Harvard? I wanted to confront him but was afraid of losing my composure if I did, and betraying how much I wanted whatever was between us to work out. But no, Ralph would be just another one of those men who only wanted to be my friend, and badgering him would only sacrifice my dignity.

“I understand,” I finally said, and filled five more minutes of time, until it seemed plausible to say I should go to bed, lead him out of my suite, and allow myself to feel drowned.

12.