“Pshaw. I am a great doctor.” With a yowl, Schrody started to squirm even harder. Holding some dude’s guts in had been easier. “I gotta close the door.”
“No worries.” Elle skipped down the step to the front walk. “Let me know if Andrew’s okay? Or just get him to call me?”
“Will do.” If it meant she’d leave so he could face-plant, he would have promised her his firstborn.
“And get some sleep! You’re dead on your feet.”
Now she noticed. “Okay, mum. Bye.” He kicked the door closed and released a cranky behemoth so he could run back to the kitchen to check the door to the garage. “No luck, buddy.”
Brian sagged against the door, even more exhausted. Schrody meowed accusingly, then showed Brian his arsehole as he went to see if the backdoor had miraculously opened.
Finally alone so he could lie down and maybe die for a bit, and his stomach grumbled.
The fridge didn’t hold anything remotely edible like cold pizza or Tim Tams. Just raw vegetables, almond milk, the stripped carcass of the roast chicken from Sunday dinner and the last of the offal Andrew had been feeding Schrody because apparently the entire household had to Eat Fresh. Brian had happily joined Andrew in his get-healthy kick but the man was good now. He was cancer free, there was muscle on his bones and his coat was as soft and shiny as the cat’s. So why couldn’t they have Pad Thai and ribs and fried chicken now? Even if only a couple of times a week? Or at least once a week?
“Screw it.” Brian slammed the fridge door, got his phone and, ignoring the continued silence from Andrew, ordered steamed dim sum, fish cakes and Pad Thai. If Andrew was going to abandon him—the person he apparently loved—then Brian was going to eat whatever the hell he wanted.
That done, he hit the couch face first to wait for the delivery. Schrody got over his snit and crawled onto his thighs and curled up, effectively pinning him in place. Brian barely noted the kneading before he fell asleep.
“Come on, Archy. No, don’t dig your claws in.”
The soft words and weird sensations around his butt area woke Brian. He twisted his head and blinked at the scene unfolding halfway down the couch.
Andrew was trying to lift Schrody off him, but the cat had his claws in what felt like the fabric of both Brian’s pants and boxer-briefs. The material was tented up and Schrody was arched over in Andrew’s arms, straining to keep hold of it. Pretty soon, Brian would be hauled off the couch.
“Stop that, Archimedes,” Andrew whisper-hissed. “Brian’s sleeping. Don’t wake him up.”
“I’m awake.” Though it came out more like “Immake.”
Andrew stopped trying to extricate claws and all but dropped the cat back on him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stepped back and looked anywhere but at Brian.
Released, Schrody retracted his weapons, planted his arse on Brian’s spine and started licking his tail. Brian grunted at the weight and this time, Schrody went when Andrew picked him up. Naturally, it was only so he could start trying to climb inside Andrew’s chambray work shirt.
“Jesus, Archy. You’re too big.” Andrew grabbed the cat by his scruff and put him on the floor. Schrody headbutted his shin, then sashayed off to his food bowl.
“It’s because you call him Archimedes,” Brian mumbled, forcing himself to sit up now he was free. “His name is Schrodinger.”
“He’s registered at the vet as Archimedes.”
“No. I called them and had it changed.” He rubbed his hands over his face, emerging when a long-missed smell registered in his nose. “Is that . . . Pad Thai?” Standing, he sniffed hard and followed the alluring scent to the kitchen counter and the paper bag of heavenly Thai food. “Oh, I thought I dreamed it.”
“Not unless you also sleep dialled Uber Eats. I found it on the front step when I got home.”
Stomach cramping in hunger, Brian unloaded the bag. “I don’t care what you say, I’m eating this. Maybe all of it. Probably all of it.” He opened the container of dim sum, poured the entire helping of soy sauce over them and stuffed one whole into his mouth. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. Come to daddy.”
Andrew laughed and dragged the container to his side of the counter. He picked up a dim sum and ate it in a couple of bites. “So good.”
Brian snatched the food back. “Mine. Aren’t you denying yourself unnecessary carbs and fats?”
“I’m not about to dive face first into a bucket of fried chicken, but this every now and then won’t hurt.”
Mouth filled with the second last dim sum, Brian eyed his friend warily. “Things you post on Facebook so people know you’ve been kidnapped?” Like telling your mate you’re in love with him? Was this just another phase of Andrew’s depression? He’d said some pretty scary things when he was at his lowest.
“Haha.” Andrew retrieved the fish cakes and opened up the sweet chili sauce.
Spying his phone on the counter where he’d left it after ordering the food, Brian pulled it over and checked the time. Only nine, which explained why the food wasn’t that cold. And why he still felt more asleep than awake. Oh, and there was now a message from Andrew.
Brian held up the phone, showing off the “coming home now” bubble. “Gee, thanks for letting me know you were going to be late.”
“Am I supposed to?”
Someone who loved me would. Brian shook that thought out of his head. “Elle thinks you should. You better let her know you’re all right, too. Before she rams the door down in the morning.”
“Yeah, I sent her a message before. Had my phone turned off all day, then I went to Terri’s for dinner.”
“And still you’re eating mine.”
Brian didn’t think his tone was snappy but Andrew must have heard it that way because he put down the fish cake he was about to eat and pushed the container towards him. “Okay. I’m going to shower.”
He was gone before Brian knew if he wanted him to stay.
Two and a half fish cakes later Brian still had no clue, but Schrody came yowling, looking for his dinner. He flew up onto the counter and beelined for the containers of food.
“Hey, no!” Brian dropped his food and scooped the cat up before he could sample the last fish cake. “Bad. Bad! Come on, let’s get you some yummy liver and heart. Yum!”
Schrody didn’t look convinced—for which Brian couldn’t blame him. Assisting in surgery was one thing, chopping up offal for food was entirely different. The cat, as usual, was quick to change his mind when he saw the lumps of bloody flesh in his bowl and dove in. Flashing back to that afternoon and the unfortunate surfer, Brian put the rest of his Thai in the fridge and went upstairs. The shower was still running so he just went to bed.
For a moment there, life had almost been normal. Him and Andrew arguing over the furbaby, sharing food and, admittedly slightly narky, banter. For a moment.
Would anything ever be normal again?
Brian was asleep when Andrew got out of the shower. Face down in his bed, snoring, Archimedes a huge lump under the cotton sheet at his feet. Andrew snuck in and made sure Brian’s alarm was on so he wouldn’t be late for work. It wasn’t, so he set it and went to bed.
Dinner at Terri’s had been good. Mike had “thrown together” a rolled turkey roast stuffed with apple and cranberry alongside roast potatoes, whole Dutch carrots and chargrilled broccolini. There had been cheesecake with raspberry coulis as well, but Andrew had heroically resisted. And contrary to Terri’s claims, the kids had been great even if they got a little loud when Rory’s slice of cheesecake was a micro-smidge larger than Jane’s. Mike was laid back and off the work site, Terri was soft voiced and didn’t swear, much. There was no therapy apart from good food, great company and a lot of talk about nothing important at all.
It had worked though. By the time Mike had dropped him home, Andrew had felt ready to face Brian and explain. Only to find him zonked out on the couch, their giant cat curled up on him, paws kneading his thigh. Brian’s dark hair had been
messy, one hand tucked up under his cheek and shirt half pulled out of his waistband.
Andrew had doubted his feelings so many times over the past months. He couldn’t be in love with his best friend. It was stupid. Ridiculous.
He’d been madly in love with Elle and this didn’t feel like that. Him and Elle had been heat and desire at the start, each other’s firsts for so many things, but when those thrills were over, it settled into something easy and warm. Until it wasn’t. It didn’t happen overnight, or even over a couple of weeks or months. It had happened so slowly Andrew hadn’t even noticed it until Elle was almost out the door. Andrew had wanted to know why she was leaving him and Elle wouldn’t say. She’d cried a lot and told him it wasn’t anyone’s fault, then broke up with him for good. Months later Andrew finally thought he understood—they hadn’t been in love for years, but they had been good friends. Desperate to get that back, he’d gone to Elle and pleaded that she come back to their group. Everyone, including him, had missed her. She’d asked him if he really understood, didn’t believe him when he immediately said “yes,” but came back anyway. After that, it hadn’t been long before her relationship with James became clear when one look at them together showed their love for each other.
Andrew wanted Elle to ask him again if he understood. It had taken a couple of years but now when he said “yes,” it would be real. Because what he felt for Brian was real. It wasn’t what he’d felt for Elle at the start of their relationship, and it wasn’t what he felt for his other mates now. This thing he felt for Brian was different, but it was love. Quiet and solid and strong, like the foundation of a house, and Andrew had been building a framework on that foundation unknowingly for years. Seven months ago he’d finally seen the framework, finally understood, when Brian had been holding him over the toilet as Andrew vomited up everything in his body after a chemo treatment.
That wasn’t when Andrew fell in love with his best friend. It was just the moment he recognised it.
Andrew set his alarm for the same time as he’d set Brian’s, determined to talk to his best friend in the morning.
The obnoxious burble of his phone’s alarm woke Andrew too early, then he remembered why he’d set it for five instead of six-thirty. He rolled out of bed and opened his bedroom door. Opposite, Brian’s door was open and from down the hall came the sound of the shower. Brian had to have woken up before his alarm, but at least he hadn’t yet left the house.
Archimedes, currently planted on the end of Brian’s bed grooming himself intimately, looked up at Andrew, gave a purely feline sniff of distaste, and went back to licking his butt.
“Traitor,” Andrew muttered to the cat on his way past to the stairs. He was barely halfway down when the cat trotted past him.
Archy was sitting by the fridge when Andrew got to the kitchen. His purr kicked in like an outboard motor when Andrew opened the fridge. Up on his hind legs, front paws on Andrew’s knee, he smashed his face into his thigh, rubbing one cheek then the other over him.
“Aw, kitty kisses. Someone wants milk.”
While Archy might have been confused about his name, he was never confused about milk. At the mention of it, he stretched up a paw to the shelf on the door that held the almond milk, not quite able to reach it.
Laughing, Andrew nudged Archy out of the way and reached into the very back of the fridge where he’d hidden the small bottle of full cream dairy milk he’d bought especially for the cat. The almond milk was only good for the humans of the household.
Archy made constant little meows as Andrew found him a clean bowl and poured the thick white liquid, following him from fridge to cupboard to bench to laundry, where he was fed, so closely Andrew almost tripped a couple of times. When the bowl was down, he all but dive-bombed it. Andrew was certain more milk ended up on the floor than in Archy’s belly.
“How long have we had this?”
Andrew’s smile at Archy’s antics faded as Brian’s demand echoed out from the kitchen. Maybe this morning wasn’t the time to talk.
“How long have we had what?” he asked, heading back that way.
“Milk. Real milk. Cow milk.”
“It’s for Archy. Almond milk isn’t good for cats.” Andrew rounded the corner and found Brian scooping instant grounds into a coffee cup with one hand, the dairy milk clutched to his chest with the other, like he was afraid Andrew would take it off him. He was mostly dressed for work in a short sleeve button down and dress pants. Feet bare, hair damp from the shower, ocean-coloured eyes narrowed.
Brian threw him a glare. “You’ve been hiding it from me.”
“It’s been in plain sight this whole time. Behind the apples.”
“I hate apples.”
“Precisely,” Andrew said under his breath as he opened the fridge again, this time for human sustenance.
“I heard that.” The kettle whistled and Brian poured milk then boiling water into his mug.
Nope. Today was not the day. Brian wasn’t great with the rational when he hadn’t had enough sleep, the lack thereof proven by the way he was slurping down the instant coffee rather than waiting to swing by the Coffee Box at Sharks before work.
“Do you want cereal or toast?” Andrew asked as blandly as he could.
“If I have cereal can I have some of the cat’s milk?” It came out about as bitter as the coffee he was drinking.
“You can have whatever you want.”
“Because you love me?”
Andrew’s stomach cramped like it had when he’d been having chemo. “No.”
Brian slurped his drink, eyeing Andrew over the rim of his mug with a steady, daring look. “What, now you don’t love me? After such a beautiful, drunken declaration the other night?”
“There is no point talking to you when you’re like this.” Andrew headed upstairs to get ready for work. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Brian didn’t say anything more, just came up in a couple of minutes to put on his shoes and grab his satchel. Waiting in his doorway for Brian to come out of his room again, Andrew said, “I’ll come home straight from work today. Want me to make chicken spaghetti for dinner?” A simple dish that was one of Brian’s favourites, but had been off the menu rotation for a while thanks to Andrew’s eat better campaign.
After a moment, Brian grunted. “There’s the Pad Thai from last night.”
“You’re not taking it for lunch?”
Brian appeared, shoed, combed, and looking a little sheepish. “Too nervous to eat still.”
Andrew’s heart went out to him. Brian was already a good doctor, but he didn’t have a lot of confidence in himself. He’d taken a couple of weeks with each of his intern rotations to get to a point where he wasn’t freaking out before each shift.
“Okay.” Andrew knew not to push him. “I’ll make a salad to have with it tonight.”
Brian nodded, not looking at him. “Gotta go. Can’t be late.”
“You’ll do great.”
Stopping at the top of the stairs, Brian turned around, his expression hesitant. Andrew thought maybe he was going to say something about the elephant between them, but he just grunted, “Thanks,” and hurried downstairs. Minutes later, the garage door cranked opened and the Jag’s rumbly engine started.
Tonight. Over salad and noodles. They’d talk tonight.
Terri picked him up again and Andrew made an effort to forget the tension with Brian and continue some of the conversations they’d had the night before on the drive down to Palm Beach. Thankfully there was no sign of the Tesla when they pulled up down the road from the work site.
“Ron should be in a better mood at least,” Terri said as they stowed their gear.
“Don’t bet on it,” Sam muttered. “He’s mad as a cut snake today.”
“Why this time?”
“Dunno. Just know I ain’t gonna get in his way today.”
Andrew and Terri agreed and headed out to start work. The crane booked to lift the trusses up to the top of the build arrived as the
y were organising jobs for the day. Ron appeared from out of the office as the crane was manoeuvring into position. He watched it critically, a deep frown on his face, arms crossed. Then his gaze found Andrew and his frown turned into a full-on scowl.
That was not good. Ducking his head, Andrew hurried over to help hook up the first truss. His back prickled the entire time he was within view of the office, so he swapped jobs with Damo, who wasn’t as keen to work the top as Andrew was. They worked steadily until lunch time, when the temperature broke thirty degrees and they all rushed to the shade and their eskies, inviting the crane operator to join them.
The food envy wasn’t as bad today, after dinner at Terri’s, his illicit dim sum and the promise of Pad Thai tonight, so Andrew bit into his ham and salad roll happily enough. The chatter today focused on the NRL finals the previous week. Andrew hadn’t paid any attention to this season or the one before it thanks to everything that had happened the past two years so he let the discussions and arguments swirl around him. He was more than willing to let the others entertain the crane operator, whom none of them knew. New people were not his forte. Even when his close friends got loud and boisterous—which happened a lot when James and Troy were both there—Andrew tended to take a step back. He much preferred one on one.
Like when it was just him and Brian. He’d never felt awkward around Brian. From that first moment on the oval in primary school, when he’d seen Zach Green teasing Brian, then knock him down, Andrew had never felt anything other than kinship for the skinny kid who couldn’t seem to coordinate his arms and legs. He hadn’t thought twice about stepping up and acting that day, and he hadn’t since—until he’d realised just how he felt about his friend. It had been nothing but doubt until Monday night and his misery at watching Elle and James be so ludicrously happy together had threatened to overwhelm him. He’d had to tell Brian how he felt. It wasn’t, as Brian had accused, fuelled by drink, but by something possibly worse—sadness.
Andrew was sick of being sad. He wanted to be happy again, and it felt like the only way that was going to happen was if Brian felt the same way he did.
The New Normal Page 4