Sam

by Luke F. Harris

  He gazed out the window again, at the passing scenery. Dark clouds were rolling in from the south. It would be pouring before they reached Nelson.

  They reached Motueka, on the western shore of Tasman Bay, just as it was getting dark.

  Tom pulled over at the side of the road to check the map one more time. “The campsite should be just round the next corner,” he said, folding up the map and tucking it away beneath the sun visor. “You hungry?”

  He nodded.

  “Me too, but let’s get this tent up first, eh, while it’s still light.”

  It took longer than he had thought it would take to erect a two-man tent. By the time they were hammering in the last of the pegs, it was already dark and spitting with rain.

  They left their bags locked safely in the car and headed back into town in search of something to eat.

  There was a fish and chip shop close to the campsite, but since it smelt of old, dirty fat, they didn’t stop. Instead, they settled on a hotel on the high street. It looked as if every other person in the town had had the same idea. The main bar was packed to the rafters, and they had to wait half an hour just to get a seat.

  “You’re not still worrying, are you?” Tom asked.

  “Just a bit,” he replied, looking down at his menu. “What are you having?”

  Tom’s phone beeped and he picked it up. A shadow passed over his face.

  “Is everything OK?” he asked.

  Tom put the phone down and exhaled loudly. “It’s Eve.”

  He felt his stomach muscles clench.

  He had been wondering when Tom would mention Eve. Tom hadn’t mentioned her since that afternoon at his flat, when he had announced that he had broken off the relationship. Perhaps Tom felt uncomfortable broaching the subject; he knew that he certainly did.

  “What does she want?” he asked. He was unable to disguise the feeling of intense jealousy that had taken over him.

  Tom looked up and fixed him with a stare. “Are you OK?

  “I’m fine.” He took a sip of his beer and let his eyes wander round the room.

  “Sam.”

  He looked back at Tom. “Shall we order?”

  “Sam.”

  “What?”

  “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  Of course there’s something I want to talk about, dick. He shook his head. “No.”

  They ordered their food and sat in silence until it arrived. The television in the corner of the room was playing the highlights of the previous night’s rugby test and Tom focused all his attention on the game.

  He wanted to tell Tom that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to overreact, but just as he opened his mouth, Tom turned to him and asked, “So what do you want to do tomorrow?”

  The moment was gone. He shrugged his shoulder and took a bite out of his burger. Egg yolk oozed out of the sides and ran down his hands. Tom passed him a clean napkin.

  “Ta,” he mumbled. He finished chewing and swallowed. “I don’t know. We could carry on up the coast, maybe hire some kayaks?”

  Tom considered the suggestion for a moment and then nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Between Tom’s snoring and the howling of the wind, he barely got a wink of sleep all night. He woke for the last time just before dawn, freezing cold and thoroughly miserable. Tom had rolled over onto his side of the bed, and the air mattress, unable to support the added weight, had deflated. He could feel the cold, hard earth pressing against his hipbone.

  As he sat up, his head brushed against the slanted roof of the tent. The movement dislodged the moisture that had seeped through the fabric during the night and brought a cascade of droplets raining down on them.

  “Fuck,” Tom groaned, pulling the covers over his head, “don’t touch the sides.”

  He ignored the outburst, rolled over onto his knees and crawled out into the fresh air. The dewy grass was ice cold underfoot and by the time he made it back from the shower block, he could hardly feel his toes.

  They spent the morning kayaking along the coast. The weather was stunning, the storm clouds having passed on overnight, and the surface of the ocean sparkled as it caught and reflected the sun’s light. At lunch, they stopped at one of the many secluded bays, pulled the two-man canoe up onto the beach, and lay back on the sand.

  “My arms hurt,” he told the blue expanse above. In fact, every muscle in his body hurt. More than once, he had felt the boat go heavy and had looked over his shoulder to find Tom admiring the scenery, his paddle resting clear of the water.

  Tom rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. “So are we going to talk about last night?”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If you want to.”

  “I do.”

  A few minutes passed before Tom spoke again.

  “You know there’s nothing to be jealous about?”

  He sat up and glared at Tom. “Who said I was jealous?”

  Tom smiled and raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, maybe a bit,” he conceded.

  “Why?” Tom laughed.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  This time it was Tom who took the deep breath. “It’s over between us—I mean between me and Eve. You do know that, right?”

  He felt his hackles rise at the mention of her name. “Do I?”

  Tom looked annoyed. Whatever Tom had been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. “What do you mean ‘Do I?’?”

  He didn’t know what to say in response, so he kept his mouth clamped shut.

  Tom got to his feet with a huff and walked down to the water’s edge. For a long time, neither of them moved. Tom gazed out to sea while Sam contemplated the sand.

  He was still staring at the sand when Tom turned and marched back up the beach towards him.

  “Stand up,” Tom said.

  His heart dropped but he did as he was told. He couldn’t bring himself to look Tom in the face, though.

  Tom gripped his chin with one hand and forced him to make eye contact.

  “There’s only you,” Tom said, giving his face a gentle shake. “There’s only been you for three fucking years.”

  He swallowed and tried to look down but Tom wouldn’t let him.

  “Do you hear me?”

  He nodded his head as best he could.

  “Good.”

  Tom smiled and kissed him before he could respond.

  The next morning, they packed up the car and hit the road while the rest of the campsite was still asleep. And since neither of them needed to be in Wellington on Monday, they took the road heading south, towards Lewis Pass, and the east coast beyond.

  “Mind if we join you?”

  He shuffled along the bench seat to let the two girls sit down. It was freezing cold outside, and it looked as if the entire population of Kaikoura was trying to squeeze into the pub on the Esplanade.

  “Here you go,” Tom said, handing him a pint of beer.

  It looks more like stout, he thought.

  “It’s a local brew. The barman recommended it.” Tom took a sip and tilted his head slightly. “Actually, it’s not bad.”

  He noticed that the two girls had stopped talking and were now watching Tom intently. Before he had a chance to taste the beer for himself, the girl sitting next to him leaned across the table. “I’m Sarah,” she said, offering Tom a hand, “and this is Kate.”

  Tom put down his drink. He introduced himself and then nodded across the table. “And that’s Sam.”

  Sarah gave him a perfunctory glance and then turned her attention back to Tom. “So are you staying in Kaikoura long?” she asked. She swayed in her seat as she spoke. Clearly, the drink she was holding wasn’t her first—or second.

  “No, we’re just passing through on our way home,” Tom replied, with a polite smile.

  “We’re up from Christchurch for a few days,” Sarah continued. She sucked coquettishly on the straw in her glass. She was flirting so obviously that it w
as almost amusing. “So isn’t your girlfriend with you, then?”

  Tom smiled again, but Sam saw his Adam’s apple twitch.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” Tom replied.

  He could hear the wariness in Tom’s voice, but clearly Sarah didn’t. “So you’re not seeing anyone at the moment then?” she continued to probe.

  Tom hunched his shoulders as if the shirt that he was wearing had suddenly shrunk several sizes. “No.”

  His voice was barely audible, but still it rang in Sam’s ears.

  Tom glanced in his direction and then looked away.

  In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been as bothered as he was. What had he been expecting? That Tom bare his soul to a complete stranger?

  Still, Tom’s answer cut him to the quick. You obviously don’t mean as much to him as you thought, a voice in his head whispered.

  He put down his drink and got to his feet. “I’m heading off,” he announced.

  “Wait—I’ll come with you,” Tom said, pushing back his chair to stand up, but Sam cut him off.

  “No, stay.” He turned and walked away before Tom had a chance to object.

  A full hour passed before Tom unzipped the front of the tent and climbed in beside him. The inflatable mattress ballooned under the added weight and he rolled against the side.

  “I’m sorry.” Tom’s voice broke the silence that hung heavy between them. It was pitch-black and he couldn’t see Tom’s face, but he knew he was close; heat emanated from his body like a radiator.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he replied with a sigh.

  He could almost feel the tension dissolve.

  He waited for Tom to speak, but he didn’t, and they lay in silence again.

  “Do you suppose it’ll gets easier?” Tom asked at last, just when he was beginning to think that Tom had fallen asleep.

  He took a moment to reply. “I really don’t know.”

  Tom seemed to weigh up the answer before continuing. “Are you still annoyed?”

  He suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “No,” he lied. He rolled towards Tom and tentatively reached out a hand. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness but still he could see only the faint outline of Tom’s body.

  As soon as Tom felt his touch, he clasped his hand to his chest.

  “Sam,” Tom said, rolling over to face him and resting his forehead against his own. He could feel the warmth of Tom’s breath on his face. “Can I ask you something?”

  His whole body tensed. “OK,” he replied warily.

  Mentally, he was bracing himself for the worst. So when Tom asked, “Will you go out with me?”, he actually laughed.

  “Hey,” Tom complained but didn’t let go of his hand. He continued to hold it against his heart.

  “Sorry, it just wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”

  Hopefully it was dark enough to hide the absurd grin on his face.

  “So?” Tom asked.

  “Hmm,” he joked, “I suppose I could.”

  Tom grabbed him around the waist and dug his fingers into his side, making him squeal like a stuck pig. “What did you say?”

  “I—said—” he gasped between shallow breaths. But Tom continued to tickle him mercilessly.

  “What was that you said?”

  “OK!” he shouted when he couldn’t take any more. Tom stopped straightaway.

  Tom leaned over him and brushed the hair off of his damp forehead. His chest was pounding.

  “That’s better,” Tom said. Tom was close enough now that he could see the smile on his face.

  Tom leaned down and kissed him and the world around them disappeared.

  chapter fourteen

  He had his hands in a sink full of hot, soapy water when he heard footsteps on the linoleum floor behind him.

  “Argh, you’re all wet,” he squirmed as Tom nuzzled the back of his neck. Tom had only just showered and his hair was still dripping wet. A trickle of cold water ran down Sam’s spine and made him shiver. He turned and wiped his hands on the towel around Tom’s waist.

  “Hi,” Tom grinned, pushing him back against the benchtop and planting a kiss on his lips. He could feel a hardness against his stomach, and when he reached beneath the towel, Tom’s whole body shuddered in response.

  Tom bit his earlobe teasingly and then led him through the empty flat, to the bedroom.

  “I thought we could go to the golf club tonight,” Tom said when they were lying in bed some time later.

  His head was resting on Tom’s chest, and he could hear Tom’s heart beating just centimetres below. His own heart was still pounding.

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said, running his fingers lightly over Tom’s flat stomach and playing with the fair hair just below his bellybutton.

  Several weeks had passed since the showdown at his parents’ house, but the memory of it all was still uncomfortably fresh. “You don’t think it might be too soon?”

  Tom had been stroking his hair. Tom stopped and pushed himself up on his elbows, forcing him to sit up as well.

  “We can’t hide away for ever,” Tom protested. “And, anyway, we’ve got just as much right to be there as anybody. I pay my subs too.”

  “But what if my dad is there?”

  He was quickly learning that Tom had a stubborn streak of his own. “Let’s just go for one drink, eh?” Tom persisted.

  “OK,” he agreed reluctantly.

  It was every bit as horrendous as he had been expecting. When they walked through the door, all conversation stopped and an awkward silence descended on the club.

  As well as his father, whose face blanched the moment he saw them, Jarryd was there too. He was standing at the bar, talking to Ngaire. He put down his drink and walked straight over.

  “How’s it going, bro?” Tom said, holding out a hand to his best friend.

  He knew that Tom hadn’t spoken to Jarryd since he had broken things off with Eve.

  He held his breath.

  There was a moment of silence and then Jarryd swiped his palm against Tom’s and pulled Tom towards him with his fingertips. “Good to see you, bro,” he said, slapping Tom on the back hard.

  He exhaled. Only then did he realise just how tense he had actually been.

  “And you too, Sam,” Jarryd said, turning and offering him a hand. “What has it been? Two or three years?”

  “Something like that,” he replied.

  Jarryd filled two clean glasses from the jug in the centre of the table and handed one to each of them. “Cheers.”

  He didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. All he could think about what his father, standing in the corner behind him. He could almost feel his father’s eyes burning two holes in his back.

  It was the look of alarm on Tom’s face that came as the first warning. He didn’t need to look to know that his father was standing right behind him.

  Slowly he turned around. “Dad.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” his father cut to the chase.

  Tom stepped up beside him. “We don’t want any trouble, John. We’re just here for a quiet drink.”

  His father didn’t even look at Tom; he kept his gaze fixed on him. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with you,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  A couple of his father’s buddies had gathered behind him. For a moment, he was reminded of Sutcliffe and his two sidekicks. He almost laughed.

  “This is ridiculous, Dad,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  His father’s eyes flared, but before the situation had a chance to escalate, Ngaire strode into the mix.

  “Go home to your wife, John,” she said, standing between them, her arms crossed. She was an indomitable force even when she wasn’t annoyed, and his father backed away instinctively. “The boy’s done nothin’ wrong, and I won’t have you causing a scene.”

  His father’s friends dropped away one by one and returned to their drinks, leaving him standing alone. />
  “What’s his problem?” Jarryd said, after his father had stormed out the bar. It was more of a statement than a question.

  Ngaire smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Then she went back to emptying the ashtrays into a bucket with an old paintbrush.

  The television behind the bar was tuned to Sky Sports. Within minutes Jarryd and Tom were engrossed in the Friday night football.

  “So what you gonna do for work now then, eh?” Jarryd asked the next time the whistle blew. He kept his eyes on the screen, though, and before Tom could answer, he was shouting at the live-action replay. “Are you fucking blind, ref? Knock on. Jeez!”

  Jarryd tutted and shook his head as the word TRY flashed up on the screen in large green letters.

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually,” Tom said once he had Jarryd’s full attention.

  Sam didn’t know why he was so surprised to hear that Tom had been making plans. It was logical. The fact that most of Tom’s work came from his father meant that life had the potential to get difficult, and quickly.

  Jarryd turned and raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

  “I’m done with earning peanuts working for the man. I’ve got my ticket now, so what’s stopping me from going out on my own? Hell, you should join me.”

  Jarryd contemplated the suggestion for a moment. “OK,” he nodded, “but you’ll have to do the books. I’m not too flash with numbers.”

  The smile that lit up Tom’s face made the past hour worthwhile.

  He noticed Eve before Tom did. She was sitting on the footpath outside his flat, her head in her hands. Even at a distance, it was obvious that she had been drinking heavily. When she saw them both, she staggered to her feet and stumbled forward.

  “Wait here,” Tom said, motioning to him to stand well back. And for once, he was more than happy to do as he was told.

  Sam was too far away to be able to hear everything that Tom was saying, but the words “sorry”, “home” and “over” rang out crystal clear. Unfortunately, those weren’t the words that Eve had wanted to hear.

  Her face hardened and she struck out like a wild animal. Tom managed to deflect the blow in time. Had she been sober, though, her fist would almost certainly have connected with his nose. Tom held her against him in a bear hug.