by J. M. Colail
“Here, David. Give it to me,” John said, reaching for the soiled condom.
But David shook his head and got off the bed. “No, I can do it.”
When he walked back in from the bathroom, he carried a small towel to gently clean them. John smiled at the quiet man who tenderly wiped the come from his belly and waited patiently until David was ready to get back into bed.
John lay on his side and pulled David into a slow and relaxed kiss, after which he whispered the words, “Stay with me.”
David caressed John’s cheek with the back of his hand and replied, “I’m here.”
John wasn’t sure if he meant just for the night or longer, but for tonight it would do.
Chapter 10
PERHAPS IT was the shift in the weighting of the mattress or the cool air on his back where there had recently been a warm body, but John woke up knowing that David was no longer next to him. But the bed wasn’t empty because he could feel David sitting quietly on the edge of the bed. John wanted to ask, but waited silently, holding his breath. The bed moved fractionally when he carefully stood up and John heard the soft pad of his bare feet crossing the bedroom floor. When the door closed John turned over and looked at the now vacant space on the other side of the bed. He’s not gone, John reasoned and sat up to rub a hand wearily over his face. He willed that to be true but still needed reassurance. Leaning over the edge of the bed, John peered into the gloom beyond the mattress and gave a relieved sigh. His clothes are still there….
The thought had just passed when John heard the toilet flush; he quickly lay back down, facing David’s side of the bed and feigned sleep. Through his eyelashes, John could just make out the bedroom door slowly open. David stepped in and stopped in the doorway; John had changed position. He waited and listened, hoping he hadn’t woken him.
David walked quietly to the bed, carefully sat down, and slowly slid his legs under the covers. He settled on his side near the edge of the bed.
John could barely make him out in the shadows of the bedclothes, but knew David was watching him. He let his eyes close and tried to lay still; a near impossible task while being watched. After a couple of minutes John faked a sleepy stretch to cover the twitches starting in his legs and, with a slight groan, turned onto his other side. He knew he could have just admitted he was awake, but when he felt David follow him across the bed and tentatively settle against his back John knew he’d been right.
THE GRAY light was already creeping through the partially open curtains when John reached over and switched off the alarm clock before it reached the set time. He rubbed the heel of his palm sleepily across his eyes.
“It’s almost spring,” David said quietly. John blinked a couple of times and turned toward the voice. David faced the window. “Spring’s a kinder season.”
John almost said he didn’t want him to worry about that anymore, but simply nodded and commented, “The mornings are getting lighter.”
David’s gaze shifted from the window to John, unsure of what to say now. John simply gave him a gentle smile and asked, “You sleep okay?”
When David nodded and returned the smile, something tightened in John’s chest and, before he even realized it was happening, his fingers lifted and traced the curve of David’s mouth, lingering briefly on the scarred lip. David closed his eyes, allowing the touch to turn into a caress.
John watched his fingers drag over David’s bottom lip, pulling his mouth slightly open. He leaned in, their mouths near but not quite meeting as his fingers slid down the new growth of beard to rest lightly on David’s throat. Soft lips had only just touched his when David’s stomach gave a loud grumble.
David let out a small embarrassed laugh, but John leaned back and asked quietly, “When did you last eat?”
Embarrassment deepened to shame at the question and David tried to shrug it off. “With Jamie.”
“Shit, David, that was half a bloody sandwich the day before yesterday.” John’s anger wasn’t directed at David, but he quickly softened his voice when he saw the stricken expression on the other man’s face. “Come on. We both need breakfast.”
THE SCENE in the kitchen made David smile. John never stopped talking while busying himself frying bacon and eggs, buttering toast, and filling the coffeemaker. It was as if David left too many gaps in the conversation and John felt the need to fill them. Even though he wanted to ask if he could help, John had told him to sit at the table, so David contented himself with watching John fuss over the preparations.
“How do you like your eggs?” John asked, peering over his shoulder.
“I don’t know. Anyway I can get them,” David replied honestly.
The answer sobered John and he paused, his hand hovering over the fry pan as he watched the white become opaque over the yolk. He carefully slid the egg onto the plate next to the crisp bacon strips and carried it over to the table.
The smell of the bacon cooking had set David’s stomach grumbling and twisting, but he waited until John sat down.
“Dig in, Dave,” John said, trying not to be bothered by David’s constant need for permission. “I’m not the best cook, but I can manage a bloody good fry-up.”
“And soup,” David added, giving John a slight smile before taking a mouthful of bacon.
A faint flush crept across John’s face that David remembered that, but it was the delighted grin that was most evident as he echoed David’s words. “And soup.”
THE SENSATION of being clean and well fed was still unfamiliar. After John had gone downstairs to open the store, David showered and pulled on the sweatpants John had given him. He didn’t know what else to do; this was out of his usual routine. He’d spent time in the small apartment before, but it seemed different now. John was just trying to help, David reasoned, but last night… he brought me back here. He shook his head at the turn his thoughts had taken and the fears they stirred.
After several minutes of standing at the bathroom door, David ventured over to the heavy bookcase that almost filled the main wall of the lounge room. Glancing along the titles, it was obvious that most, if not all, the volumes belonged to Maggie. There was nothing of John until he came to the end of the row. David paused at two small plain silver frames, each housing an old photograph. He carefully picked one up. The black-and-white picture showed a young woman with fair hair tied up in what looked like a heavily lacquered beehive. She was sitting on an old wooden swing, one hand on the weathered rope, the other supporting the little boy on her knee. The child looked barely more than two years old; both were caught mid-laugh. David ran a fingertip over the happy child. The other photograph was newer, color, but still had the faded pinkish tint of a print from the seventies. Sunday best. David smiled at a teenage John in a crisp white shirt and tie. He stood with an elderly couple, obviously uncomfortable having his photo taken. He loved them very much, David mused, noticing that John was holding on tightly to his grandmother’s hand. Private photos. He suddenly felt that this was an invasion of John’s privacy and put the picture down.
His hand had just let go of the frame when he was startled by a knock on the door. David’s heart began to race and he instinctively took a step backward away from the bookcase. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here.
The knock was repeated a little more firmly.
“Hey, Dave. It’s me, man. Um, me, Jamie.”
David felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders; he quickly unlocked and opened the door.
Jamie gave David a beaming smile and pulled him into a hug. “Oh man, it’s good to see you. Fuck, Dave, you scared us.” He let David escape his grip and said with a grin, “Well, you look all right,” but immediately regretted the flippant comment when he saw David’s discomfort at being seen in only his sweatpants.
Jamie didn’t give the embarrassment a chance to set in and grabbed his hand to lead him to the couch. “How are you really, Dave?” he asked, forcing direct but not threatening eye contact.
“I’m okay,�
� he replied in an attempt to give his usual dismissive answer. Jamie didn’t respond. He knew to sit and wait David out on this one. Eventually David sighed and mumbled, “I don’t know…. Confused, I guess.”
“Confused about what exactly?” Jamie asked gently.
David shrugged and indicated vaguely around the room with a wave of his hand. When the hand came to rest, Jamie enclosed it in both of his and said quietly, “John was really upset when you left. Okay, I haven’t known him long, but it was bloody obvious he wanted you back. He wants you here.”
David frowned, wanting but not willing to accept what Jamie was trying to tell him. Jamie squeezed his hand and asked, “Are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know…. I want to.” David sat and looked at Jamie’s hands holding his. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard, Dave. Please.”
Try hard. Of course he would try if it meant being with John, but David knew that ultimately trying might not be enough. His stomach clenched and he shook his head. “I don’t know how to do this anymore, Jamie.”
“What do you mean, Dave? What can’t you do?”
David shook his head again and rubbed his free hand compulsively over the back of his neck; he couldn’t explain.
Jamie watched David struggle. Fuck. He has to know that John loves him by now. “You need to trust him, Dave. Take the risk. Although, to be honest, I don’t think it’s much of a risk.”
David didn’t answer. Jamie couldn’t understand how much he was asking. It had taken a lot of physical and emotional bruises before the “walls” were in place, and loving John would leave him vulnerable all over again. He could already feel it happening—and it terrified him. On the streets he had his routine: he ate and slept when he could, escaped into the books as often as possible, and saw Adam… although that always came at a cost.
Sitting up, Jamie gave an encouraging smile. “You’ll be okay, Dave. Better get back before the boss notices I’m gone. I sneaked out while he was cornered by the pensioners. See you downstairs. Put on your new clothes, yeah?”
David watched Jamie leave and let out a shaky breath. He went through to the bedroom and looked at the white paper bag still full of the neatly folded clothes. They smell clean, David decided as he carefully lifted them out. He smiled at the sight of the simple white underwear.
THE BELL on the store door jingled, causing both John and Jamie to look up. David entered looking very sheepish. He was dressed in the new jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt; it was only his tatty old boots that spoiled the picture.
“Hey, Dave! Love the new wardrobe,” Jamie beamed. “Looks great. Doesn’t he, John?” Jamie turned to John and groaned. “Oh fuck… googly eyes! You two are gonna be painful, aren’t you!”
Embarrassed, John shot Jamie a withering look that was totally lost on him as he grabbed David’s arm and dragged him to help rummage through a large cardboard box of secondhand novels.
The day passed easily and quickly although John seemed to find a lot of reasons to go to the back of the store. He tried very hard to give David his space and didn’t interfere with Jamie and David’s lunch routine even though he took every opportunity to glance in David’s direction. By mid-afternoon John had become quite disgusted with his need to see David… just to make sure he was all right, he told himself… and focused his energy and thoughts toward reconciling the ordering system.
He was barely aware of Jamie ushering the last of the evening’s customers out the door and was startled when a jubilant voice broke his concentration. “Home time!”
“Shite, Jamie! Stop sneaking up on me. You are being a total pain in the arse today.”
Jamie gave a cheeky grin and replied, “Suffer, old man. I’m happy.”
John stood up with some menace and took delight in Jamie’s rapid backward step. He walked past him into the store and growled, “Don’t push it, Jamie. I’m still your boss.” But John’s frown quickly disappeared when he saw David standing at the front counter.
David gave him a little half-smile. Although he was waiting for John he still didn’t take anything for granted; he was ready to say good night and leave if he read any doubt in John’s face.
Jamie followed John through the door and held his hand out. “Give me the keys, John. You two head upstairs and I’ll lock up.” He gave John a look that could only be interpreted as Take him home, John.
John thanked him and turned to David. “Come on, Dave. How about I shout you dinner out?”
David looked slightly panicked until Jamie butted in with, “You have the orders to finish, boss, and David looks knackered. I made him sort all those books this afternoon.”
John started to answer but remembered an earlier time he’d suggested a meal out and said quietly, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m pretty tired myself. Night, Jamie.”
David gave Jamie a gentle smile as they walked past him and out of the store.
DINNER WAS quiet with just the two men, fish and chips and very little conversation. When they finished, John cleared the table and said, “I’m sorry, Dave. I really have to finish the ordering, but the TV is there, or grab a book from the shelf.” David nodded and started scanning the bookshelf.
John settled to work, his eyes flicking between the neatly written figures and his old calculator. David had picked up a hardback novel and sat, legs tucked under him, at one end of the couch, where all he had to do was look up to see John at the table. It was a luxury to be able to read a hardback, but David soon regretted his choice when he was overcome by his weariness and the book became too heavy to hold. He desperately fought sleep, wanting to go to bed, but needing to wait for John.
By the time John looked up, David’s eyes had drifted closed and the book lay open on his lap. John watched him for a while and realized how tired he always seemed even though he frequently dozed in his chair in the store. When David’s hand slipped off the edge of the book for a second time, John said gently, “You look tired, Dave. Head off to bed and I’ll be through in a minute.”
David’s head came up and he looked a little embarrassed at having drifted off, but he nodded, closed the book, and slowly made his way to the bedroom.
Determined to make the orders tally John continued to fiddle with the paperwork, but no matter how much he cursed them he just couldn’t seem to get the figures to make sense. Eventually he had to admit defeat; his mind was elsewhere. Closing the ledger he stood and switched off the light.
The bedside lamp was already off when John entered the bedroom and David was snuggled down under the quilt. John undressed as quietly as he could and slid into his side of the bed. The sheets were cold on his bare skin so he scooted closer to David, immediately feeling the heat radiating from his body. John stopped short of actual contact and lay for a while listening to the steady breathing of the other man.
When David gave a gentle sigh, John leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against the back of David’s neck and whispered, “It’s just me.”
Sleep safely, Dave.
Chapter 11
SUNDAY, JOHN contemplated as he stretched and turned to look at the sleeping form beside him. Sunday with David. The thought both excited and unnerved him. Nothing planned, nothing to fill the time to distract us. The now familiar nervous flutter hit his stomach with the knowledge that they’d never actually spent that much time alone together.
John also realized that he hadn’t had the chance to really look at David at length in the daylight. David was always so uncomfortable when under scrutiny that John’s attention was usually fleeting, but here David lay unguarded in the morning light. His hair fell slightly over his face, but John could see the creases at his eyes were relaxed and the tension in his jaw was gone. David’s soft lips were slightly open, enabling a steady, but quiet, snore to escape. The flutter in his belly stilled only to be replaced by a tickling warmth. John groaned at the change. Fuck, McCann, since when did you find snoring a turn-on? Get a grip and stop acting like bloody Bridget Jon
es. He told himself off but its effect was negated by the grin that spread across his face. He reached over and pushed the hair gently off David’s face, well aware that the touch would wake him.
“Morning, Dave,” he said, trying to sound a little more casual than his broad smile indicated.
David blinked a couple of times to clear away the last of his sleep and grunted back a passable greeting. He turned onto his back and pressed his hand to his eyes. John waited until he was sure David was fully awake and asked quietly, “What do you usually do on Sunday?”
David frowned at the unexpected question and gave it serious thought before he answered in a sleep-roughened voice. “Depends on the weather, I guess.”
John nodded even though David was looking at the ceiling and not him. After a short silence, David cleared his throat and continued, “On a good day I go to the park, try to catch up on sleep. It’s safer to sleep during the day.”
On a good day. John wondered about the possibility of “good days”, but asked, “What about on a bad day?”
David gave a little shrug. “Try to find somewhere dry. Bus stops or train stations sometimes. You get moved on a lot. Some days I just walk; others I’m too tired.”
John frowned. “What about the shelter? Isn’t that there to help?”
“Others need it more than me. I have Margins six days. Books, drawings… good company. If I can I go to the shelter at night sometimes, get a bowl of soup, somewhere warm to sleep, that’s enough.”
John thought David had finished speaking, but he added quietly, “Some men cry at night or call out to people they don’t have anymore.”
Pain twisted through John’s chest at the very real possibility that David could be one of those men, but before he could respond David continued. “It’s okay most of the time. You get used to the snoring and farting… a bit like here actually.” He turned and grinned at John.