by J. M. Colail
Jamie frowned, knowing it would just make things worse if he called John on it. He sighed softly and said, “You were upset, John. He’ll understand. David’s a good person. Just talk to him, be honest with him.”
“He’s asleep. I think he….” John’s jaw clenched as he fought through his emotions. “He’s asleep.”
“I’m about to close the store. I can come up if you want. You know, just for a drink or chat…. Yeah?”
John relaxed a little even though he wasn’t going to take Jamie up on his offer. “Thanks, mate, but I’m tired. I think I’ll just get some sleep.”
“Okay. Sleep’s good, John. Mum always said that it gives us a chance to heal,” Jamie soothed. “He’s strong, you know, John. Despite everything….”
HE’S STRONG, you know, John. Despite everything…. John rested his face carefully against the crook of David’s neck. He knew David wasn’t a child, knew he was a grown man and contained a strength that he doubted existed in many men, including himself, yet he brought out every protective instinct in John. He gently nuzzled the nape of David’s neck, smiling a little when David moaned lightly in his sleep and leaned back into the touch without waking. He kissed the soft skin below David’s ear, lips just brushing the heat of the pulse point, and whispered, “What brought you here, Dave? What brought you to this?”
John’s eyes drifted shut and he just breathed David in while contemplating all the questions he wanted to ask. What was your life like, David? Your wife and job…. What happened? Why did you end up out there on the street? How long did you live like that before Maggie gave you somewhere to feel safe? Safe…. What caused the nightmares? What happened, Dave? John squeezed his eyes tight; it hurt to think of David out there knowing what could have happened to him.
Taking a shaky breath John gently pulled David’s hair off his face. “You’ve changed me too, you know?” he whispered, wishing he could say these things when David was awake. “I’d never actually stayed the night with anyone before you….” John gave a sad laugh at how fast he usually exited a bedroom. “Now the thought of my bed without you….” He watched his fingers slowly thread through David’s hair. “I don’t think I can go back to my ‘old’ life, Dave. It seems like a world for a different person now. But I need to know, are you still going to be here at the end of my year?”
The seed of fear had started to grow. All the “what ifs” appeared in rapid succession. What if David left again? What if David was really sick? Stop it, Mac…. Stop it. John let his arm drop down again and encircled David’s waist, his fingers tickled through the hair on David’s belly comforted by the small murmur David made in his sleep. He pressed himself tightly against David’s back and lie like that, simply listening to David sleep.
It was almost an hour before David began to stir. He didn’t say anything, but the subtle change in body language told John he was awake.
“I’m sorry, David; I shouldn’t have lost it like that,” John said very quietly while he flexed his fingers over David’s warm skin. “It’s just the thought of someone else touching you.”
David winced and a wave of self-loathing threatened to engulf him. What could he say to that? It had been his choice even though he felt like he had no choice at all.
The silence lingered in the room. Both men wanted to speak, but neither felt able to start.
David was tense in John’s embrace and his panic started to rise that David would run again. Talk to him. Jamie said to talk to him, John thought, grasping at anything to make this work. His voice was low and soft as he told David how he’d felt, trying not to lay blame, but explained the emptiness and fear when David didn’t come home. The more he spoke the easier the words flowed until John reached what he really needed to say. “I can’t do this without you. Can you let me love you, David? Can you do that?”
The words stopped and absolute terror took over. John could barely breathe. The blood pounded in his ears while he waited for a response. Any response.
David didn’t answer but a gentle shudder shook his body and John realized that even though he made no sound, David had begun to cry. John tightened his hold, moving his arms up around the other man’s chest. He buried his face in David’s neck all the while talking in a hushed panicked tone. “It’s okay, David. We can work something out. Jamie’s been getting you to help…. I guess… I guess I’ve been using you as unpaid labor…. We can work it out so you can stay… we can always work it out. Oh fuck, Dave, we can always work it out.”
John knew he was babbling as the tears streamed down his face, but he was afraid to stop until David lifted his hand and reached blindly for him.
It was only when his fingers were tangled tightly in John’s hair that David allowed himself to pour out a lot of the grief and pain he’d held onto.
John knew now to let David cry. He simply held him pressed against his chest until David’s grip loosened and he lay exhausted in John’s arms.
John wiped his hand over his face, for once not embarrassed by the tears still rolling down his cheeks. He clasped David’s hand in his own and rested them lightly on the rumpled sheet in front of David’s chest. “I meant it… before… what I said.”
David closed his eyes and twined his fingers a little tighter through John’s. He desperately wanted to believe him.
“It’s not something I’ve said to many people in my life,” John continued. “Men just don’t where I come from. We love a pint or our football team, but we don’t say it when it really means something.” David felt John’s chest rise and fall as he sighed. “Actually I’ve had little cause to use it at all. I loved my mam and grandparents… I think I loved my da. But other than that I only ever said it to one person. Jean McMullan.” It surprised John that this was actually leaving his mouth. He never talked like this; even as a child he kept things to himself.
Despite the softness of John’s voice, David could feel it rumble lightly in his chest. Its gentle cadence soothed and made him feel safe… at least for a while. When John paused, David opened his eyes just a little and murmured, “Tell me.”
John gave a breathy chuckle and started. “I was barely into my twenties when I finally got the courage to ask Jean McMullan out to the pictures. She worked in the same office and had been the object of my desires, and quite a few wet dreams, for an eternity.” David smiled, but didn’t make a sound in case John stopped. “Anyway… I have no idea what the film was, but the night went well and we ended up an item. I remember a while after I told her how much I loved her, certain that I would spend the rest of my life with this girl. She told me she loved me back, but the next week she broke it off to go out with Mark Lynch. I was devastated and couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. Then she told me. Mark had a car and money to take her better places than the cheap seats at the local cinema. I left Bradford after that and vowed to change my life. I guess I did in ways I didn’t quite expect.”
David tensed against John and said quietly, “I told my wife I loved her.”
John waited for more, but when there was none he leaned forward, kissed David softly on the neck, and murmured, “Hey, I lied. There was another love in my life. Do you want to know about it?”
David nodded against John, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
“I must have been all of seven or maybe eight at the time,” John started, relaxing back into his pillows while his fingers made slow circles on David’s shoulder. “I had just been to the store for my gran and had her old string bag full of tatties; fuck, that bag was heavy. I put it down for a breather and heard a noise. It was tiny little sound that I could barely make out.” David turned over and propped his head on his hand so he could watch John’s face as he drifted back to the little boy. “There was an old flour sack at the edge of the drain. I remember I bent over it to see if I heard the noise again and it moved.” A broad smile lit up John’s face and he laughed. “I nearly shit myself! But in the sack were two kittens. One had already died and the other wasn’t far be
hind. It was this little black thing, all wet and smelly. It barely had its eyes open, but I know it looked at me and mewed.”
John stopped, rubbed his hand over his mouth, and shook his head. “I struggled home with the bag of potatoes over one arm, the dead kitten in the other and the live one up my jumper. My gran raised hell at the state of my clothes when I got home, but toweled the little one dry and gave it some warm milk while Granddad and I buried the other one on the allotment where he grew the biggest yellow dahlias I’d ever seen. Like giant suns. Sooty lived another sixteen years before he ended up in the allotment. I loved that little cat.”
David lifted his hand to gently caress John’s face. “Still bringing home strays.”
“Only if you stay until we both end up under the yellow dahlias.” John smiled under David’s touch. When David returned the smile John leaned up so their lips could meet briefly before he groaned and said reluctantly, “We’d better get up and go down to the store before Jamie thinks he’s in charge.”
DAVID CLOSED the bathroom door and turned to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still red, he needed to shave, and his hair was a mess. He tried to see what John saw; he easily saw the bedraggled stray, but someone John could love enough to spend the rest of his life with just wasn’t in the reflection.
Chapter 16
BACON. EGGS. Bread for toast. Coffee for the machine. John checked and double checked all the items that lay out on the bench. He nodded to himself and opened the cupboard door so the crockery was in plain view.
The tiled floor of the kitchen was cold and he absently rubbed the top of his foot against the flannel-covered calf of the other leg. He knew he could get his slippers but cringed at the thought, not quite ready to let David see him in what Marian had called his “old man slippers”. Shit, I really need to call Marian, John cursed silently but was cut short when he heard the bathroom door open. “Okay, what else?” he murmured and quickly scanned his preparations.
David wandered across the living room to lean against the door frame of the kitchen. John couldn’t help but smile at the site of a still slightly damp David in his old track pants and T-shirt and seriously messy towel-dried hair.
John turned back to the stove and made a show of fiddling with the frying pan. He said in what he hoped was a convincing voice, “I was gonna make us some breakfast, but I think I might grab a quick shower first.”
David grinned at John’s very unsubtle comment. “I’ll do it.” He walked over and carefully took the pan from John’s hands. John gave him a sheepish look, knowing he hadn’t fooled anyone. “Everything is here…. Milk for the coffee is in the fridge….”
With a slight tilt of his head David attempted a frown. “Oh, okay. I wouldn’t have thought to look there.” He then gave a John a small smile that clearly read “thank you” but said, “I’ll get started on breakfast.”
John resisted the urge to run his fingers through the wayward hair and left the kitchen.
David stood and looked at the food for a long moment. He couldn’t quite remember when he’d cooked for himself or anyone else, for that matter. I need to do this, he thought and was determined to prove he was still capable of such a simple task. He measured out the coffee according to the instructions on the jar, filled the jug with water, and poured it into the machine. After flicking the switch he stood with his arms folded and waited until the first dark drip hit the bottom of the jug.
He smiled to himself; it was more than he’d managed on his last attempt.
By the time John was out of the shower and toweling himself dry his stomach was churning. Was it too much? He knew what I was doing. Did I set him up to fail? He shaved as fast as he dared and by the time he turned off the extractor fan, he smelled the unmistakable scent of bacon frying.
The coffee jug gave its last gurgle when he walked into the kitchen. David was standing at the stove carefully turning one of the eggs. John noticed how slow and pedantic his movements were. He seemed to radiate concentration. With the egg safely flipped, David’s shoulders relaxed a little and he turned to see John watching him. “I made us breakfast,” he said with more than a little relief.
“So I see.” John grinned and moved toward him. “Here… want me to dish?”
“No, I can manage,” David replied quietly, but firmly.
“Okay.” John laughed and raised his hands. “How about I set the table?”
“Yeah… please,” David smiled and returned his attention to the bacon that was crisping nicely.
Within minutes both men were sitting at the table, cooked breakfast in front of them and freshly brewed coffee in their mugs. John reached for his bottle of HP sauce, poured it liberally on his food, and stuffed a forkful of egg-yolk-soaked toast into his mouth. “Mmmm…. Bloody good, Dave,” he mumbled, his mouth still full of food.
“I know.” David smiled around his own mouthful of bacon.
“FUCK!” THE word seemed to vibrate around the bookshelves.
“Jamie,” John growled and looked up to see the young man struggling in the front door carrying a large and somewhat battered cardboard box. He dumped the box noisily on the floor and gave one of the nearby pensioners from the Seniors Book Club an apologetic look. John watched as she just smiled indulgently at Jamie. He gets away with blue bloody murder.
Jamie strolled up to the counter after greeting the other ladies and threw John’s car keys to him. “They had a lot of fiction to get rid of. There are a few more boxes in the car.”
John nodded, threw the keys back at Jamie, and held back a smile as he said, “Excellent. Bring them in.” Jamie groaned, but knew better than to argue. Although when David offered to help, Jamie jingled the keys at John with a playful smirk and led David out of the store.
David was a hard worker and matched Jamie’s energy in short bursts, yet John noticed how quickly physical exertion tired him out. But John trusted Jamie with him and knew that despite his playful nature he always kept a careful eye on David, never letting him take on more than he thought he could handle.
There were four large boxes in total; John usually bought secondhand books in large quantities from people who were moving or deceased estates. He smiled at the sight of David sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by piles of books, digging into a new box, not caring that it was dusty and covered in cobwebs.
Jamie emerged from behind John carrying two mugs; he handed one to David and was about to take a sip from the other when John took it out of his hand with a cheeky grin. “Thanks, Jamie, but you should have made one for yourself too.”
“I live to serve you, boss.” He smiled and gave a low bow, just managing to stay out of reach when John took a swipe at him. David sat back and watched the interaction, a happy smile on his face.
Jamie bent to pick up a pile of books deemed suitable for resale and stacked them on the book trolley. He was pleased there were some good ones; novels that would complete trilogies or series. It wasn’t the resale value that pleased him; it was the understanding that some people couldn’t afford the rising price of a paperback and were always overjoyed to find the conclusion to a much loved story or follow the lives of characters who had become like friends or family.
“Put the others back in the boxes and I’ll drop them in the Dumpster after work,” John said as he took another mouthful and raised the mug at Jamie before walking back to the counter.
David frowned at the stack of novels to be discarded. He grabbed an armful of torn and tatty books and followed John to the front of the store.
“I’ll take those out later, Dave,” John said as he saw David approach. But David put the books on the counter and looked from them to John before asking, “Can I have them?”
John laughed, but stopped when he saw the serious expression remain on David’s face. “Of course you can. But they’re old and dirty and you know you can help yourself to anything on the shelf.”
David glanced back at the books a little embarrassed. “They’re not f
or me.”
John almost asked what David had in mind, but simply reiterated in a gentle voice, “Of course you can have them.”
David kept his eyes on the ripped cover of an old classic without making a move. John knew there was more to be said so he waited. Eventually, when David had found the right words, he looked up and stated, “We need more than food, John. A dry place to sleep is important, but we also need to be treated as thinking human beings. Maggie did that for me. Letting me in the store to read kept me….” He shrugged, not sure how to end the sentence. John nodded and encouraged him to continue.
David stood a little straighter and said, “Being able to read gave me an escape, but it also kept me thinking on a level higher than survival and allowed me a little dignity. So I was hoping I could take these books down to the shelter.”
“Great idea.” John beamed. He couldn’t stop smiling as he scooped the books from the counter and headed to the back of the store to help David fill the box.
JOHN RESISTED the urge to take the heavy box from David as he pushed open the shelter doors. David had been through this foyer many times under very different circumstances. Today, however, he felt mixed emotions as he followed John to the front desk, hanging back when Barbara appeared.
“John, how are you?” she welcomed as she walked around the counter to give him a hug and then, without waiting for his reply, looked past him to David. Her voice changed to a calmer, gentler tone. “Hello, David.” She made no attempt to touch him, but held steady eye contact until he gave her a little smile and a hesitant “Hi.”
Better, much better, she thought and turned back to John. “So what brings you here today?”
“Well, David actually,” John grinned. “I was going to throw out this box of old paperbacks and Dave suggested we bring them here.”