Dreamspinner Press Years One & Two Greatest Hits

by J. M. Colail

  John was surprised that David didn’t even try to argue, but took the keys and slowly headed out the door.

  JOHN TESTED the doorknob before he raised his hand to knock; it was unlocked and he was pleased Jamie wasn’t around to witness how nervous he was entering his own apartment. The fluttering in his stomach turned to anxiety when he saw both the living room and kitchen were empty. Fuck! He listened carefully to the silent apartment as his eyes traveled to his bedroom door. Bloody idiot, McCann. You told him to rest. John pushed the door open just a fraction and peeked around. When he saw that the curtains were drawn and David was asleep in the bed he smiled and quietly closed the door.

  The torn sketchbook caught John’s eye. It was still sitting on the table where he’d left it the night before. He sat down on the couch and looked at the remnants of the book. The back cover was ripped in half, several of the pages were ragged and creased, and the spiral binding wire was mangled away from almost half the book. David had fought hard to keep this, John thought as he ran his fingers down its edge. He knew it was none of his business, an invasion of David’s privacy, but John needed to know. He sat in silent conflict for several long minutes before picking it up.

  Opening it randomly, he saw a page filled with images of himself; studies of his eyes and hands. The next picture was of John reading. There was a tranquility to the rendering that John barely recognized. There was one of Jamie. He was smiling and the eyes looked directly at him. John briefly wondered if he’d posed for this and pushed down a fleeting pang of jealousy.

  His frown deepened when he turned the page. The sketch was of a teenage boy laughing at some unknown joke; John didn’t recognize him. There were many more pictures of this boy throughout the book, some hurried outlines, others painstakingly detailed. John closed the book and put it back on the table, unsure what to make of its contents.

  The sketchbook had him unsettled and John needed to get up and do something. He walked purposefully into the kitchen and pulled a large pot out of the cupboard all the while trying to remember the ingredients of Gran’s favorite vegetable and barley soup. Soup therapy. He grinned as he started to dice carrots and drop them into the simmering chicken stock.

  Within an hour, John was ladling steaming soup into two bowls, pleased with his effort even if he did have to substitute rice for barley.

  David stirred when John switched on the bedside lamp. He yawned and mumbled, “Sorry. I was just so tired.”

  John lifted his bowl off the tray and settled in the chair; he looked at David and said, “Bloody exhausted more like it. Now get some of that soup into you.”

  David shuffled up in the bed, lifted the tray down, and took a sip of the soup. Making an appreciative sound, he refilled his spoon. John smiled and ate his soup while filling him in about the day’s events in the store. By the time both bowls were empty David’s eyelids were heavy and John had managed to convince him to stay the night. Actually he gave him no other option.

  John couldn’t stop grinning as he scrubbed the soup pot.

  IT WAS late when David woke up to see the dark figure moving carefully toward the chair. He watched John start to cover himself with his blanket and said softly, “I’m okay, John.”

  John looked over at the bed, pleased that David couldn’t see the pink spreading up his neck, and answered as gruffly as he could. “So you say, but indulge me, all right?”

  A gentle warmth spread through David’s belly knowing that John cared enough to endure another uncomfortable night propped in the armchair, but he couldn’t let John do it… not for him.

  His thoughts were still tangled when he finally got the courage to say, “Poverty isn’t catching.”

  John peered at him through the darkened room and said in a totally incredulous voice, “Did you just make a joke? You bloody did, didn’t you?” The chuckle that followed spread the heat rapidly through the rest of David’s body and he shrugged. “Well, it’s a big bed.” His smile was small but he knew the dark of the room hid some of his insecurities.

  After a moment of hesitation, John moved to his side of the bed. He tentatively climbed in, holding his breath as he tried not to jostle David too much. Settling back against the pillow, John allowed his back to slowly straighten out. His mattress had never felt so good.

  John could sense David’s tension as he lay very still beside him and, staring up at the ceiling, he did something he’d not done for too many years: thought about his life before he’d covered it with a corporate suit. “I’ve been poor, Dave.”

  His peripheral vision caught the movement of David’s face as it turned toward him to listen. “I didn’t really understand that we were poor when I was little. I just knew that sometimes I was hungry and my mam would cry if I said anything. She died when I was six and we went to live with my grandparents; my mam’s parents. I loved it there with them, but my dad wasn’t working and they fought a lot. I often heard my granddad arguing with him. He used to stay out late and come home drunk, and then one night he just didn’t come home at all. I realize now that he missed my mam and didn’t know how to cope without her, but at the time….” John took a breath; he didn’t know why he was spilling this all out to David but now he’d started he knew he wanted to get it all out. “My life wasn’t bad. I’m not saying that. I loved my grandparents but they struggled and as I got older it hurt to see that. I decided then that I wasn’t going to live that way so I packed what little I had and blew all my savings on a plane fare here. A new life in ‘sunny Australia’ was the dream. I left my old life behind, but every fucking day I’m terrified of falling back into it.” John’s voice cracked slightly and David leaned over to lay his hand on John’s shoulder, but let it hover inches away before pulling it back.

  John closed his eyes briefly at the missed touch and gave a small bitter laugh. “I’m sorry, David; it all sounds like a bloody Catherine Cookson novel.”

  “It’s okay, John,” David murmured. After a brief pause, he added, “I had money… and something of a life.”

  They lay side by side in the dark for several minutes. John wasn’t sure how much to push so he just waited for David to continue. When David turned onto his side away from John, he assumed that was all he was going to be told. Then David said so quietly that John wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, “I have a son, John.”

  John instantly thought of the young man drawn so lovingly in the sketchbook. He knew that David was waiting for a response but found he didn’t have one. Instead of risking the wrong words, John rested his hand lightly on David’s shoulder.

  Blood pounded in David’s ears as he’d voiced his admission. He’d spent the past few years burying his past life so deep that it might not be able to hurt him anymore. If he didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist. But his son did exist and he experienced the shame of missing him each and every day he couldn’t go and see him… so maybe telling John would be okay? John’s hand was warm through his T-shirt and the gentle stroking motion of his thumb felt surprisingly safe.

  John leaned his face close but not quite touching David’s hair and asked softly, “What’s his name?”

  David closed his eyes and took a breath. He couldn’t make himself answer.

  John moved closer and slid his arm slowly across David’s chest to gently pull him back. When he felt David’s weight against his chest, John whispered, “It’s all right. You don’t have to say any more tonight. Try to get some sleep.”

  Even though there was no reply, John could feel the tension gradually leave David’s body. It took John quite a while to drift off to sleep but his final thought was, Time, Dave. Please give us some time….

  Chapter 8

  JOHN HARDLY ever slept through until his alarm, yet he always set it. The faint gray light of dawn signaled the first stirrings of awareness, but John knew instantly that something was very different this morning. There was someone in the bed with him, close to him. He could hear breaths that weren’t his own and the weighting of the mattress
was different. John had always avoided this moment; it was too intimate to wake up next to someone and left him too open.

  John hadn’t actually thought this far ahead, waking up beside David.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the steady breathing behind him. Although there was no physical contact, he knew David was close. Suddenly, knowing wasn’t quite enough. He wanted to turn over and see David asleep in his bed only inches away from him. Shit, why did I have to think of that? John cursed silently as he felt the heat from David’s body create its own heat in his body. He tried to lie still, ignore his growing erection. Oh God. He wanted to just quietly and slowly slide his hand from under his pillow and down along his body to touch himself. He started to move, not sure whether he was going to let his fingers travel or simply rearrange himself to release some of the tension that had rapidly built in his body.

  David groaned slightly in his sleep, which immediately halted John’s movement. He exhaled a slightly shaky sigh. Fucking hell; the man trusts you. Stop reacting like a fucking teenager. Sobered by this thought, John began to wonder just what it meant that David trusted him; he had to admit the thought both warmed and terrified him.

  He had no idea what this thing with David was or where it was going. The only thing he did know for sure was that he didn’t want David to go back to the streets. Problem was, he was running out of reasons for him to stay, and John understood that, despite his circumstances, David was a proud man and would be uncomfortable accepting charity. Perhaps I could clear out all the store junk from Jamie’s old bedroom and offer him that. Maybe he would help out in the store so it wouldn’t be seen as charity? His thoughts were instantly cut short when David moved in closer. The rise and fall of his chest was hot against John’s back. He could feel David’s breath against his neck. An involuntary moan escaped John’s lips. It was quickly stifled when he heard the cadence of David’s breathing change. Shit, I woke him up.

  John cleared his throat and said quietly, “Morning. You okay?”

  As soon as he uttered the words, David pulled away from him and whispered, “Sorry, John.”

  John regretted speaking as soon as David broke contact, but he knew he couldn’t lie there like a horny teenager until the alarm went off. He carefully turned over and settled back against his pillow but found looking directly into David’s eyes very disconcerting, so focused his gaze on the yellowing bruise instead. “Your bruise is already starting to fade.”

  David lifted his hand briefly to his face and mumbled, “It doesn’t take long.”

  “It shouldn’t happen at all,” John said, more to himself than David. He carefully touched the discolored skin before halting his actions and saying in a louder voice, “Time to get up, I guess.”

  John quickly turned away from David, flicked the alarm off before it had a chance to sound, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Take your time getting up. I have to go to the store early to do some paperwork.”

  JOHN ARRIVED back at Margins after telling Jamie he was taking a break carrying a large white shopping bag; the kind made of extra-reinforced paper with raffia handles, indicating fashion rather than produce. Jamie didn’t say a word, but eyed the bag curiously. Noticing the look, John quickly growled, “Mind your own business.”

  Jamie just raised his eyebrows in an attempt at total innocence and followed John into the kitchen. “You are such a clothes horse, John; you know you want to show me.” Jamie grinned as he headed for the bag.

  John quickly pulled the bag away from Jamie, ignoring how his faced colored as he said, “Look, Jamie, they aren’t for me. Just leave it, okay?”

  Jamie’s smile softened. “I figured that, John. I knew they must be for David, but I wanted to see if you’d own up to it.”

  John shot Jamie a filthy look and said in an exasperated voice, “Fucking hell, Jamie! Give me a break, will you?” He took a deep breath, looked at his young friend, and admitted, “I’m struggling here, Jamie. Okay?”

  With a quick glance over his shoulder to check the store, Jamie moved away from the door to join John at the table. He pulled up a chair next to John, where he could ask quietly, “What’s up, John? What’s wrong?”

  John gave a mirthless laugh and shook his head. “That’s the problem, mate. Nothing is actually wrong. I’m just in new territory here and it scares me shitless.”

  Despite trying very hard not to smile, Jamie couldn’t help himself. “You’ve never really been in love, have you, John?”

  John’s stomach did an inelegant flip and he suddenly felt light-headed, but he pushed all that aside and said, “Leave it out, Jamie. I am not in love. He just… I’m just worried about him, that’s all.”

  Jamie stood up, stroked his hand down John’s hair, and said with a gentle smile, “Yeah, I know, John,” before walking back into the store.

  JOHN WAS in the process of juggling his shopping and the packages of takeout food before reaching for the doorknob when David opened the door. “Thanks,” John managed to say before bundling a carton of steaming noodles into David’s hand. “Here, grab this. You know, the woman at the noodle place and I are on a first-name basis now.”

  David grinned, carried the food over to the table, and then helped John with the other cartons. John looked at the mass of white containers and chuckled. “I think I over-catered a bit.”

  David shrugged and said, “Maybe you catered with Jamie in mind?”

  “Fuck,” John laughed. “It always amazes me how much he can eat and stay so skinny. Come on. Sit down, and we’ll see if we can make a dent in this.”

  After three cartons of noodles, they finally had to admit defeat and sat back in their chairs; although John did notice that this was the most he had ever seen David eat. David looked at the remnants of their dinner and started to stack the containers, but John shook his head. “Leave that. I’ll do it later.”

  John signaled for David to go sit on the couch and said, “Grab a seat; I’ll put the kettle on.”

  David sat quietly, waiting for John. His eyes dropped to the sketchbook on the table. He picked it up carefully and held it close. “That must be important,” John said quietly as he sat down beside him. David just nodded. John desperately wanted to ask him about the contents, but didn’t want to admit he had already looked through it, so he waited.

  David looked at the torn cover of the book, took a breath, opened it, and said very quietly, “These people are important to me.” He hesitated briefly before he passed the book into John’s hands.

  John looked down at a sketch of the teenager and asked, “Is this your son?” David didn’t raise his eyes from the image as he nodded.

  “What’s his name?” John asked, glancing sideways at David, hoping that this time he would tell him.

  David clenched his jaw for a moment while he decided whether or not to answer. Finally he said the name so long kept to himself. “Adam.”

  “Adam,” John repeated gently, hoping to reassure David that this was okay. “How old is he?”

  David sighed and said with a shake of his head and a tone of incredulity, “He’ll be sixteen soon.”

  “Do you still get to see him?”

  David’s expression closed again so John was surprised when he gave an answer. “Sometimes… sometimes when I have enough for the bus fare I go to his school. I never let him see me, but if I’m there at the right time I see him arrive and meet up with his friends. He has a lot of friends.”

  Shit. John couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a child and not be able to see him when he wanted. He turned the pages in silence until he came to one with his own image, then, slightly embarrassed, he closed the book and handed it back to David. “These are beautiful, David. I can understand why you wouldn’t let them go. Look, um… I know you lost all your stuff so I hope you won’t be offended, but I… um… got you a few things.”

  He reached down the side of the couch for the bag and placed it on the coffee table. John tried to make the unpacki
ng seem as casual as possible, but his heart was hammering so hard he was sure David would hear it.

  David took each parcel with very deliberate care and laid them on the coffee table: a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, two pairs of socks, and underwear. David couldn’t say anything; he looked at the underwear and didn’t trust his voice to say thank you. From where he was sitting John couldn’t read David’s expression and began to worry that he’d done the wrong thing. “Are they okay, Dave?”

  David nodded, but dropped his head into his hand and kept his eyes covered until he was sure he had himself under control enough to answer. His voice was small and strained as he said, “I’m sorry, John. It’s just… shit… I’m such a fucking mess.” He turned away quickly, not wanting John to see the effect the small act of kindness was having on him.

  John hesitated, wanting to comfort him in some way, but stood up awkwardly instead and went to pick up the now empty bag. Before he crushed it to put it in the trash David turned and asked very quietly, “Can I have the bag too?”

  John frowned at the question but said, “Um, of course you can.”

  David took the bag, mumbling, “I don’t have my pack…. I need it to carry my stuff.”

  It was as if a sledgehammer had just hit John full force in the chest; David was going to leave. It hurt like hell, but John couldn’t stop him. He nodded and said in a carefully controlled voice, “Sure, David. Come on; get a decent night’s sleep.”

  DAVID CHANGED quietly and climbed into the bed, his back to John.

  The silence in the room was oppressive; John had things he wanted to say, things he wanted to ask, but the barrier of David’s back stopped him. It was obvious that he’d done something wrong to make David want to leave and the thought of him back on the streets made John’s stomach cramp. He turned onto his side and looked at the back of David’s head; he couldn’t just let him go without even trying.