by Jerry Cole
Those days on the couch were an odd combination of tears, joyous laughter and crying, and a lot of pigging out on terrible foods that had no right entering a healthy human body. It was a mess.
And still, no call.
By the fifth day, Sherman began to worry. Maybe Bradley was hurt. Maybe Bradley was sick. Maybe Bradley wanted to call, but had lost his phone, and had forgotten the directions to the apartment, and was suffering amnesia and...
The lies that Sherman spun to convince himself that Bradley wanted to call or visit but didn’t were outrageous to say the least, and they barely managed to convince Sherman when he was in his most desperate states. The simple fact of the matter was that Bradley wasn’t going to call and apologize. If it was going to happen, it had to be Sherman.
By day six, this fact really sunk in and where it should have been a revelation, and maybe even something that spurred Sherman on to finally pick up the phone and extend an olive branch... it actually had the opposite effect.
That was typical Bradley, just expecting Sherman to do all the work like that. And why? Because he had helped Bradley out with rent? Because he had paid for a holiday or two and should now feel guilty? It was absurd.
Worse too that it suggested what Sherman had always suspected: that Bradley thought he was settling.
For how aware Sherman was of how much better-looking Bradley was than he, Bradley was even more aware of it. He absolutely relished in it. Ever since Europe, he’d made it clear that he knew he could do better than Sherman. It was just so obvious in the way he acted – he didn’t even want Sherman at first! Seeing him as only a friend, because he knew he could do better.
Maybe that was why Sherman always spent so much money to please Bradley? He needed a way to keep some sort of power in their relationship. If he didn’t have that, then what did he have?
That day, day six, was a particularly dark day for Sherman. It was the day when he first really considered that maybe, just maybe, he and Bradley were done for. There was no way he was calling to apologize. That ship had sailed. Now it was on Bradley and frankly, he didn’t think that Bradley had it in him.
Needless to say, by the time day seven rolled around, Sherman had been through the equivalent of an emotional rollercoaster. He'd showered maybe three times. He’d eaten his body weight in food twice as many times as that. The apartment was a mess, the whole place stunk of only God knew what, and Sherman was one low moment away from finally breaking.
Thus, when Nick turned up unannounced on Sherman’s doorstep, it came with a serious sense of relief. Sherman hadn’t realized how much he needed human contact until it was staring him in the face... looking rather disturbed, in all honesty.
“What the ever-loving fu —”
“Nick!” Sherman threw himself at Nick and pulled the man into a warm embrace... or at least he tried. Nick was significantly bigger than Sherman, and at the sight of his little, smelly friend coming for him, Nick stuck out a hand and pushed him out of the way.
“Maybe a shower before we engage in bodily contact.” He poked his head gingerly into the apartment and curled his nose at what he saw. “Should we just burn the whole thing down and start again? Good God, man.” He pulled his head back out and fixed Sherman with a look of utmost pity. “I’ve met bums that wouldn’t sleep in there, mate.”
“Bradley and I had a fight.” Sherman bowed his head in shame. “It’s bad.”
“Mate.” Nick tilted his head to the side and fixed Sherman with a look of such despondence that for a moment, Sherman thought he was going to cry himself. “I’m sorry.” He then reached out and wrapped his arms around Sherman in a warm embrace.
It caught Sherman by surprise, but a moment later and he allowed himself to be pulled into a full-on proper hug; arms wrapped around him like a big security blanket. It was the first bit of human contact he’d had in seven days and fuck he had needed it. There were no tears or anything like that. It was just a good, long hug. Very much needed.
After that, Sherman led Nick into his apartment. He opened the curtains, and then the windows, and then turned on all the fans just to sort of kick start the exodus of stench from the place. Then, he ducked into the bathroom and took a quick shower, even going so far as to clean himself twice. It was only once he had seen Nick that he realized how dirty he was.
By the time Sherman was done in the shower, dried and dressed, Nick had gone a long way toward cleaning the apartment. It actually wasn’t that dirty, there were just a lot of empty food box, plates and glasses. Sometimes, things aren’t as bad as they seem.
“Thanks for that.” Sherman strolled into the now clean kitchen dressed in an old bathrobe and his favorite pair of Ugg boots; it wasn’t even that cold, but he needed the extra comfort. He was the most relaxed he’d felt all week.
“No problemo.” Nick waved him down as he finished cleaning the last of the dirty dishes. The rest were stacked in drying racks by the sink, and even the benches had been wiped down. Sherman had had no idea how domesticated Nick was.
“Someone’s trained you,” he joked.
Nick shrugged. “The life of a bachelor, my friend.” A brief pause as if considering what this really meant. “Not something I would recommend.”
Sherman scoffed. “Are you kidding me? You fucking love it.”
Nick shrugged again. “Sometimes I do.” He then winked and grinned... only for his grin to fade, and for his tone to become all serious. “Sometimes I don’t. Lately... more often than not.” Finished with the dishes, he sat himself at the bench opposite Sherman. “So.” He was smiling now, back to his usual cheery self. “What happened – and don’t say it was just some dumb fight. I already know it was.”
Despite himself, Sherman chuckled. He hadn’t done that in days. “It was though – just some dumb fight —”
“What did I just say!” Nick cried and wrung his hands in the air in exaggeration. He then calmed down, and fixed Sherman with a more serious expression. “Anything that can’t be fixed?”
“Truthfully? No.”
“So...?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to fix it? Or am I coming around next week to do the dishes again?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Sherman sighed as he met Nick’s eyes. Why wasn’t it that simple? God, there were so many reasons. But Sherman didn’t feel like getting into them again. He’d spent the last week doing that and it had nearly killed him.
“It’s just not,” was all Sherman was willing to give.
Thank God too that this was enough for Nick. He nodded his head in understanding, a small moment of shared silence. But then Nick drummed his fingers on the table and pushed himself back up to standing. “So, what are we doing then?” He was back to his usual eager self.
“Huh?” Sherman balked. “What do you – I'm not going out. There’s no way you’re getting me to —”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Nick pulled his phone out. “They can come here – kidding,” he hurried when he looked up from his phone and saw Sherman’s eyes widen in panic. “I meant, what food we getting? I’ll order.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” Nick reached out and gave Sherman’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re my best bud, and you’re hurting. Although I was never much into this mushy stuff – fuck, I don’t think I’ve cried once since I was maybe twelve. You are into it. And right now, as much as it pains me to say it. You don’t need to get laid. You just need a friend.” A big, goofy smile.
If Sherman wasn’t so damn dehydrated from days of crying – not to mention the fact that he had barely drunk a drop of water all day – he might have burst into tears right there. Again, Nick had managed to surprise him.
“Whatever you’re in the mood for,” he eventually managed.
“Ah!” Nick looked eagerly at his phone. “Pizza it is then – there’s this new place down the road I saw. Angry Tony’s, and their Meat Lover’s pizza is – get this. It’s called ‘Ple
ase to Meat You!’ How good is that?!” Nick’s body vibrated from withheld laughter as he proceeded to order the pizza.
Sherman didn’t try and stop him. Truthfully, he was just glad to have a friend here for support. He had become so damn reliant on Bradley over the past few months that he’d completely forgotten what it was like to have friends like this.
The pizza arrived thirty minutes later and the rest of the afternoon was spent by the two friends sitting on the couch, watching Netflix while they ate and said little. It was exactly what Sherman needed.
When it got late, Nick eventually called it. The sounds that emitted from his body were tremendous as he heaved himself from the couch and then lumbered toward the door; it was akin to an aged oak tree suddenly coming alive and moving for the first time.
At the door, he paused and looked Sherman over with a sense of reserved pity and worry. “You going to be all right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” For a moment too, Sherman actually believed it.
“Not going to call him?”
“He has my number.”
Nick sighed. “Fair. Well... if you need anything...”
“You’ll be the last person I call.”
To this, Nick rolled his eyes. But then he reached out and gave Sherman’s shoulder another squeeze before offering a peace sign and then heading off down the hallway.
Sherman watched him go for a moment, smiling to himself. Actually smiling. It was something he’d done a couple of times since Nick had arrived, and it still felt wrong. It was like he didn’t deserve to smile. Yet here he was, flaunting it. Maybe things weren’t going to be so bad after all? Maybe he would get through this...
But then the door swung closed, Sherman spun around and the emptiness of his apartment settled over him again like a cold, wet blanket. With Nick there to distract him, things had been all right. But now that he was alone again...
He wanted to call Bradley. Fuck, he wanted to! But he was also too stubborn and was now convinced it had to be Bradley who called to apologize and not him. It had seemed like a good idea when he first came up with it. And with Nick there, it even dared to feel like a great idea. But now? Well, Sherman wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out much longer...
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bradley had been home for just over seven days now and already he was starting to fall into a routine of sorts. It was one that allowed for him to keep his mind off Sherman, so as to avoid descending into a deep depression like he would have were he left to his own devices. Keeping busy it seemed was the best way to stop himself from doing something he might regret.
The good that he took from this routine was that it served to highlight how far he had come since moving out of home all those months ago. Had he not changed, then his routine would have been much like it had when he still lived at home. It would have involved a lot of sleeping, barely leaving his room, only using his phone to try and score dates, and then badgering his mother to hurry up and make dinner already so he could eat, go out and then maybe pick-up. It had been a simple yet unfulfilling life.
Now however, things had changed so much that Bradley was barely able to recognize himself. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he was only home as a means to distract himself and keep his deep-seated depression at bay, then he might have even been proud of himself for the way he was behaving.
Instead, he tried to find a middle ground. Where he was still upset beyond measure – he made sure to always have his phone on him, fully charged and with full reception, just in case – he was also still able to appreciate the small improvements he’d made in regard to his own life. Maybe he really was growing?
Another sign of this personal growth, an unmistakable one, was how much time he was spending with his mother. As much as he loved her, seven days in and he was starting to think it had crossed a line.
“Aisle four – but make sure you get the home brands cans! They taste just the same but cost half as much!” his mother shouted at Bradley down the length of the shopping aisle, seemingly unconcerned that half the store would be able to hear her.
Bradley gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder but didn’t look back. Rather, he kept his head down so as to ignore the people who were glancing in his direction.
“And Bradles! Bra —” his mother’s voice suddenly cut out as he rounded the aisle and darted up aisle number four. Thank God for that.
Bradley was out grocery shopping. That’s right, Bradley Miles had elected to leave his house on a Thursday so as to join his mother downtown while she shopped for groceries. She hadn’t even pushed him! She had merely mentioned she was leaving, that she might like the company, and Bradley jumped at the chance... or rather, he vaguely offered to lend her a hand, to which she jumped. But the effect was still the same.
When Bradley had lived at home the first time, he had never once gone shopping with his mother. Truly, he might not have even known where the shops were. But now he was an old pro. Again, it was little things like this that really served to highlight how much his life had changed.
He needed these moments to cling to. They helped frame what was currently going on in his life in a more positive light.
At the moment, he was on the hunt for canned tomatoes and with nothing else for it, he chose to act like this was the most important job in the world. When he reached the section where the tomatoes were located, Bradley took a step back, crossed his arms and scanned the shelves looking for the right brand. Unfortunately, it wasn’t there.
“What the fu...” he mouthed to himself as he ran his eyes over the dozen different brand of tomatoes in a can. They had every brand imaginable! Except the one he needed. “Surely not...”
“They’re down the end there.” The voice that spoke was so familiar to Bradley that he barely even paid it mind; it was like his own voice was speaking to him, and he was just nodding along. “For some reason they don’t keep the home brand with the others.”
It was Jackson. The Jackson. Bradley’s ex-boyfriend, Jackson. He stood a few feet down from Bradley, leaning on a very full looking cart, smirking at Bradley like they were out shopping together and this was the last item on their list.
“Huh?” Bradley blinked his surprise when he spotted Jackson. His mouth hung open a little, his eyes were wide and his face flushed red... even though he didn’t mean it to.
“I heard your mother,” Jackson laughed. “I think the whole store did – here.” He darted around the cart and then hurried down the aisle. Bradley watched as he bent down, scooped up two cans of home brand tomatoes and then tossed them to Bradley.
Bradley caught them automatically.
“Two should be good, yeah?” Jackson asked as he casually strolled back toward his cart. “What’s on the menu?”
“Tuna casserole,” Bradley responded robotically. “I requested it.”
“Oh yeah,” Jackson laughed. “I remember you used to always go on about it – your mom makes the best one, right?”
“Something like that.”
Bradley hadn’t seen Jackson since the two broke up. There had been a little interaction since then, but that had just come in the form of Bradley ignoring Jackson’s texts. But apart from that? Nothing.
There’s was definitely a little tension between the two. Although Jackson was clearly doing his best to ignore it, just being his usual charming self, it was impossible to hide from entirely. It was just so... obvious. It was right there, like a cloud hovering between the two.
But it wasn’t an awkward tension. It was more an exploratory one, like the two men could feel it, but weren’t sure what it was caused by. Was it because they used to go out, and now they were having that typical ‘bumping into one another’ moment? Or maybe it was because they just hadn’t seen one another in so long and neither man was sure how to react?
Jackson leaned on his cart and smiled at Bradley. He didn’t speak, he just let his eyes do the talking... and his lips, at least in the way he licked them when he smiled
. He was flirting! Bradley might not have noticed were he not paying so much attention.
It made sense in a way. Bradley was the one with actual power here, seeing as he was the one that had ignored Jackson’s previous attempts to communicate. Was it possible that Jackson wanted him back? No... but what if...
“I’m just in town for a week or so,” Bradley suddenly blurted, just as a means to break the tension.
“Oh yeah? What for?” Jackson smiled knowingly and ran his eyes up Bradley.
“The borders reopening,” Bradley lied effortlessly. “Wanted to catch up with mom, you know?”
“Right,” Jackson nodded. Then, “Well... seeing as you’re only back for a little while. Do you want to grab a drink – just to catch up,” he hurried to clarify. But then he added as an afterthought, “Or something?”
“A drink?” Bradley gulped.
He always forgot how handsome Jackson was. It was like he wasn’t even real, he was so perfect in every way. Bradley did a quick double take of the man, from his pretty face to his thick chest to his round thighs and to what Bradley knew to be a rather fat butt for one in such good shape. He really was a piece and a half. If he lived in Sydney, he would be a king on the gay scene.
He should have turned Jackson down. He wanted to! But right here and now, seeing him in the flesh... Jackson had always had a hold over Bradley, one that he could explain only too well.
“Yeah, a drink,” Jackson chuckled in that casual, too-cool-for-school way that he always did. “You still drink, don’t you? Sydney hasn’t changed you?”
“Yeah, I still drink,” Bradley rolled his eyes. “I’m not a complete Sydney wanker yet.”
“So that’s a yes.” It wasn’t a question.
“Sure thing,” Bradley suddenly said before he could stop himself. Jackson had a way of making him speak without thinking. “Oh! But mom’s making me dinner tonight.”