by J. M. Colail
David was sitting in his usual position, legs curled beneath him and head bowed as he read. When John approached he sat up straighter and took the mug with a smile that said “Thank you.”
Taking the seat beside him, John sighed. “I don’t know what’s got into Jamie today, but he’s driving me mad.”
To John’s surprise David actually gave a low chuckle and shrugged. “He’s just happy, I guess.”
John shook his head and laughed. Neither spoke for a moment, but this time the silence was not strained. Both men sat and sipped at the too-hot tea, comfortable in each other’s company until John looked up and said, “Thank you for the picture. It’s really beautiful.”
David gave a slight smile and replied very quietly, “You looked good together.”
You looked good together. John frowned. It bothered him that David thought he and Jamie were a couple. “We’re not… um, together. It’s nothing like that.”
“I know, John,” David murmured, looking at John to see if he should continue. “But I could see last night that you were….” David sighed, not sure how to put into words what he saw in their friendship. “You already care about each other.”
“Care about that brat? I hardly even know him,” John joked, feeling very relieved. “Actually he doesn’t give you much option, does he?”
David smiled and shook his head. “He has a good heart.” His expression became more serious as he looked down at the mug. “And so do you. Thank you, John. Thank you for finding me last night and letting me stay.”
John swallowed hard. He wanted to reach over and touch David, to let him know it was okay. It always seemed so easy for Jamie, but he held back. “Any time, David. I meant that,” John muttered quietly. He felt the need to lighten the mood and relieve his sudden discomfort. “Although you did miss out on the perfectly good breakfast I’d planned to make.”
“You were good to me. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me still there this morning.”
The temptation to lie was strong and John was about to protest that he hadn’t felt awkward about David’s presence in his new home when he heard a female voice calling from the front of the store.
“Well, McCann, stop hiding in the back. I can smell that god-awful cologne of yours so I know you’re there.”
It was obvious that John recognized the voice. He looked at David, unsure of what to say, so he simply excused himself and made his way to the counter.
“So this is what you’ve come down to.” Marian laughed when she saw John approaching. She was of medium height and slight build with short wavy hair that was almost strawberry blonde, but not quite. She could have been pretty, but instead she looked “efficient”.
John gave her a hug and laughed. “Bloody hell. You don’t see me for a couple of months and the first thing you do is give me a hard time.”
“I’m sure I can make up for it tonight after dinner.”
“You haven’t changed, Marian. Still making assumptions that you’ll always get what you want.”
“I do always get what I want, and tonight that’s you! Come on, McCann. Get your assistant to lock up. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
John cringed at the term “assistant,” but still called to Jamie, who was pretending not to watch them from the kitchen. “Can you lock up for me, Jamie? Thanks.”
He left without waiting for a reply.
David sat in the chair listening to the exchange. He heard how easily they flirted with each other before leaving together… and he knew he’d been kidding himself yet again.
He put his mug on the floor next to where John had left his. He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand wearily over them, reminding himself of what a fucking fool he was.
After John had gone David heard Jamie sit in the chair beside him. He didn’t open his eyes when Jamie asked him if he was okay and flinched away from Jamie’s hand on his hair.
DINNER WAS an easy mix of catching up on shared friends and bitching about work colleagues. Marian filled John in on the progress, or lack of progress, in his division and who was doing whom on staff. They talked about her recent trip to London and her plans to stay in town for the next few months. However, for some reason, John was reluctant to discuss Margins. Marian acknowledged John’s reasons for “opting out” for a year, but seemed totally unwilling to understand that the little store could actually be anything other than a minor short-term distraction.
It was late by the time they’d drained their last cups of coffee and John wrapped his arm protectively around Marian as they walked back to the car through the park. He was relieved that dinner had gone well and they’d quickly fallen into their old routine of arguing over whose apartment they would end up in. John knew it was all power play between them but enjoyed the familiarity of it.
He’d just managed to sway her into “slumming it” at his place when John noticed her looking toward the nearby public toilet block.
“That is disgusting,” she hissed.
John followed her line of sight and saw a man in a cheap suit obviously paying for a quick fuck or blow job. He curled his lip at the scene and was about to echo Marian’s sentiments when his eyes rested on the sleeve of the man taking the money. Just below the frayed jacket cuff he could make out green flannel. It was his shirt. John stopped midstride and watched, horrified, as a man pushed money into David’s hand. As his fingers closed around the note, David glanced over and saw John.
With eyes wide, David suddenly felt like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs. John could read the shame on the other man’s face, but all he felt was anger. He clenched his teeth and glared.
David’s stomach cramped as John’s disgust rolled over him. He wanted to throw the money back at the man and go to John, but that wasn’t real…. It didn’t happen that way. He was paralyzed, pinned by John’s eyes until the man grew impatient and gave David a brutal shove toward the toilet block.
Marian looked curiously at John and asked, “Do you know him?”
John looked away from the scene and spat out, “Why the fuck would I know someone like that?” He grabbed her by the arm and stormed to the park exit.
JAMIE FIGURED out pretty quickly that things did not go as planned on John’s date although he knew better than to ask. John was in a filthy mood. Instead, to avoid John’s wrath, he sequestered himself away in the back room where he could unpack and check the latest shipment of school booklists.
David hovered around the front of the store, trying to find the courage to open the door. He’d almost decided not to go in, but knew his regular routine was the only thing that kept him on track, kept him together. He knew he needed to spend the day in his chair in the little store despite the risk of John’s condemnation. David closed his eyes briefly, pushed the door open, and hoped that Jamie would be at the counter. The doorbell was too loud today and set his nerves jangling. His breathing quickened as he looked at the counter and saw John.
John looked up at the same moment.
David desperately wanted to turn around and leave or put his head down and make it past the counter, but his sketchbook was full. He had to have a new one before he could hide in his chair.
John watched as he walked slowly toward the counter. David slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and slid a crumpled twenty onto the counter. His hesitant request for a new sketchbook was barely audible.
Pulling one of the water-damaged pads from under the counter, John slammed it down hard in front of David. He was almost trembling with anger. David cautiously picked up the book and pushed the money forward.
Even the sight of the money twisted John’s gut. In that instant all he wanted to do was wrap his fingers around David’s collar and shake him, but instead he picked up the note, crushed it in his fist, and threw it back at David, watching as it bounced uselessly off his chest.
“I don’t want this fucking money,” John barked at him. “I saw how you earned it!”
The words had the impact of
a physical punch and David stumbled back from the counter.
Hearing the shout, Jamie ran out of the back room to see what was going on. He looked from John to David trying to figure out what had happened between them, but neither returned his look. He took a few steps toward David and asked quietly, “What’s wrong?” David didn’t react to Jamie’s question and continued to look at John.
With a gentle hand on David’s arm, Jamie asked again, “Davey, please tell me, what’s wrong… what’s happened?”
This time David turned and looked at Jamie, and the pain in his eyes was evident.
When Jamie saw this he tightened his grip. “Please, Dave….”
David shook his head so slightly that Jamie wasn’t sure it happened before he wrenched his arm free and fled out the door.
John was standing looking at both the sketchbook and crumpled ball of money lying on the counter when Jamie rounded on him. “What the fuck happened, John? What did you say to him?”
John’s grip on his emotions was so tight that his voice came out flat and controlled. “I told him I didn’t want his money.”
Jamie eyed him warily. Something was really wrong. “Why not, John?”
“I saw him, Jamie, whoring himself out in a fucking public toilet.” John’s hold slipped as he managed to get the words out.
Jamie stared at him, allowing the words to sink in. He could feel his own anger taking hold. “Fucking up-market morality! Bloody hell, John. David doesn’t have a healthy bank account to dip into when he needs something… or even a fucking welfare check to cash. I can’t believe you did that to him! Do you think he wants to sell himself?” Tears of frustration and anger built behind Jamie’s eyes. “Can you even imagine what that must do to him every time he has to let someone…?” Jamie clenched and unclenched his hands as he fought for control. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Jamie turned his back to John and walked out of the store to look for David.
Chapter 6
SITTING IN the old leather chair sharing his lunch with David had become something of a routine for Jamie. He enjoyed the quiet conversation, the fact that he could confide in David and know that he’d never be judged.
It had taken quite a while to get to that point. Jamie remembered David’s first reluctant venture into the store; once Maggie had convinced him to come in he spent his time moving around as if he were looking for something. He wandered from shelf to shelf lifting his hands to the books, but not letting his fingers make contact. Jamie wanted to go and speak to him and ask what book he wanted, but Maggie had held him back with the advice to give David time. He didn’t stay long the first day, but appeared at the door the next morning. Maggie smiled from behind the counter and clasped Jamie’s hand as a warning not to invade his space.
After he made his slow walk through the shelves, Maggie quietly approached David and calmly pointed out the secondhand book section with the invitation to stay and read. He wouldn’t make eye contact but looked in the direction she’d indicated and twitched his lips in what Maggie had decided was an attempt at a smile. She left him alone to explore and returned to the front desk, whispering to Jamie that it was going to be all right.
Jamie absently chewed on his sandwich; he’d spent a lot of years helping in his parents’ store before David appeared, but it still seemed wrong now without him. The second triangle of bread sat on the empty chair. Jamie couldn’t eat it.
TWO WEEKS had passed since David had left. Jamie had tried to find him after he ran out of the store but quickly learned that many people, either through conscious choice or apathy, didn’t see people like David. Jamie had given each homeless person he met ten dollars and his phone number with the request that they call him if they saw David. He knew some would spend it on drink, but he didn’t begrudge them that.
He’d spent most of his wages, even a large chunk of his rent money, but there’d been no phone call.
Initially Jamie had been furious with John, but now he could see that no matter how hard John tried to hide it he looked up hopefully every time the doorbell jingled. It became very obvious to Jamie that John missed David and was worried about him too, even though he would never admit it.
John walked to the back of the store and saw Jamie sitting quietly eating his half of the sandwich. He was shamed by the sight of the uneaten sandwich on the otherwise empty chair, but as had become habit over the past couple of weeks John resorted to anger and snapped, “Get rid of those fucking chairs, Jamie. I am fed up seeing them here taking up space.”
He turned and walked back to the counter, his hand fumbling with the strip of headache tablets in his pocket.
WITH MARIAN back in town, John fell into their familiar routine of dinner at an up-market restaurant followed by drinks and sex at one of their apartments. They never spent the entire night together. Both John and Marian avoided lingering in the bedroom once their liaison was over; they usually dressed quickly and said their good nights. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about each other, but they couldn’t see the point in complicating a useful relationship. Tonight it was John’s place and, as usual, the dinner was expensive and the sex was passionless but had served its purpose.
“You know, you have to get out of this area, John,” Marian complained and shook her head at him as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
John rolled his eyes at her and grinned. “I know…. It’s too small, too depressing, and the parking is a bugger.”
“Well, all those things are true,” Marian continued. “But I’m more concerned with the fact you have vagrants turning up on your doorstep after midnight.”
John looked at her blankly but a vague sick feeling started to creep through him. “What do you mean?”
Marian picked up their empty glasses and started to walk to the kitchen. “While you were in the bathroom a filthy man turned up, bleeding on your doorstep.”
John quickly crossed the room and grabbed her arm to stop her. “What happened? Where is he?”
Marian gave John a curious look. “It’s all right, John. I told him to leave.”
“What did he say, Marian?” John asked through clenched teeth, fighting to remain calm.
“Not a thing actually. He just stared at me when I opened the door. I asked him if he needed help. I’m not totally heartless. But when he wouldn’t answer I told him to leave and I locked the door.”
John instantly let go of Marian’s arm and rushed out the door. His heart pounded heavily as he vaulted the steps two at a time, nearly tumbling over the figure sitting huddled at the bottom of the stairwell.
Quickly regaining his balance, John attempted to steady his breathing and crouched in front of the still figure. “David?”
When David didn’t respond, John could feel his panic build. He put his hand carefully on the downturned head, slid his fingers through the greasy hair, and whispered, “Dave, please?”
Slowly John cupped David’s chin with his other hand and carefully raised the bloodied face. David’s lip was split and blood flowed freely from a cut above his eye. Gently rubbing his thumb along David’s jawline, John watched and waited anxiously while David tried to focus on the face near his.
Relief washed through John when he saw recognition flicker into the gray eyes, but it was soon replaced with a mixture of guilt and pain when David mumbled, “I’m sorry, John.”
“Oh fuck, David, you have nothing to be sorry for. I was a fucking bastard,” John said just as quietly before he eased his hands away and stood up. “Come on, mate. Let’s get you inside.” John looked around for David’s pack but the only possession he could see was a single torn sketchbook held white-knuckled to David’s chest.
It was clear that David was exhausted after making it to the apartment so John leaned down, tentatively put his arm around David’s waist, and, with some effort, was able to get him to his feet. John tried to support him as carefully as he could when they started up the stairs. David grunted slightly at the pressure of John’s
arm around his body, but still leaned appreciatively against him.
By the time they reached the door, David’s face was ashen and his sweat mingled with the blood on his pale skin. John eased him carefully through the door and onto the nearest chair, ignoring the disapproval on Marian’s face.
“Where are you hurt, David?” John asked as he pushed David’s hair off his face, relieved that the cut seemed superficial despite the blood flow. He needed to check if David was injured anywhere else, but hesitated. The physical contact of helping him up the stairs was different; he wanted David to let him know this was okay. “I need to see if you’re hurt, David. Can I take your jacket off?”
David didn’t answer; his concentration was centered on keeping his breathing steady rather than listening to John.
“David, please. I need to know if this is okay.”
Perhaps it was the tone of John’s voice that broke into David’s consciousness, but he started slightly and turned to look at him.
“Come on, Dave. I need to see where you’re hurt. I have to take your jacket off.”
David looked down at the hands clenched around the sketchbook and slowly loosened his grip, letting John take the pad and place it on the table. John carefully pulled the jacket off David’s shoulder and down his arm and then repeated the process on the other side. There was no sign of blood on the torn flannel shirt.
David flinched and glanced up when Marian walked over and said with some impatience, “Look, John, I don’t know why he came here, but you don’t need to be doing this. Stick him in a cab to the hospital. Let them deal with him.”
John turned his head and glared at Marian. His teeth ached from the tight grind of his clenched jaw. How could she simply dismiss him like that? He turned his attention back to David, but said to her in a deceptively calm voice, “Go home, Marian. This has nothing to do with you.”