Dreamspinner Press Years One & Two Greatest Hits

by J. M. Colail

  The bathroom was warm and steamy when John peered around the door and said quietly, “I’m home.” David looked over at him with a small smile and nodded.

  “Stating the obvious, I know.” John returned the smile and wandered over to the bath to sit on the edge. He dipped his fingertips into the warm water and said softly, “Been some time since we did this.” David sighed and nodded again while John dunked the sponge into the bath and squeezed the water over David’s shoulder. The intimate moment gave them a chance to just be together before the conversation started.

  David closed his eyes and waited.

  “Adam’s a good kid, Dave,” John began quietly. “He misses you, but I think he understands.” When the words started, David slumped forward and stared at the ripples he’d created in the water. John watched him carefully and whispered, “Mind if I join you in there?” David didn’t look up or say anything, but slowly shuffled forward, creating a small wave that washed to the edge of the bath and enough room for John to settle behind him. With a small touch of acknowledgment on David’s shoulder, John stood up and calmly removed his clothes, throwing them over the chair on top of David’s.

  The water threatened to spill onto the floor when he lowered himself into the warm tub, but it felt good against his tense muscles. John let out a low moan and settled back against the warm porcelain. “Come here,” he murmured and slid his arms around David, pulling him gently between his legs. Without a word David leaned back into John’s embrace to rest against his chest. They sat in near silence, the only sound being the occasional water ripple and John’s lips as he kissed the wet hair clinging to David’s temple.

  When David turned his face and glanced up at him, John said, “He didn’t understand why you left, Dave. Your wife told him you’d found someone else.”

  “No,” David said quietly at first, but he repeated it with a slight edge of anger creeping into his voice.

  “It’s okay,” John soothed him. “I told Adam that wasn’t true.”

  “There was no one then,” he whispered again.

  “I know,” John murmured and rested his cheek on David’s hair. John knew this would be hard, but he wasn’t quite prepared for how much he would hurt at David’s distress. He exhaled slowly, understanding that this had to happen, and waited.

  “I was scared. I couldn’t figure things out and the more I tried the more confused I got. It… it was as if connections weren’t in my head anymore. I knew they should be and they weren’t there.” The fear was evident in his voice as David tried to articulate how he felt, tried to work through it the way Barbara was teaching him. “I don’t remember leaving. I knew I needed to…. Then I was cold and….”

  John felt the tension building in David’s body and gently stroked his hair. “Adam knows something was wrong,” John reassured and distracted him. “He asked me if you’d been ill. I told him that I thought so.”

  “I should have been stronger for him.”

  “Fuck, Dave.” John sighed. “We all want to be stronger and better. Sometimes just to prove that we’re good enough to be respected… or loved.”

  David quietly nodded and reached to find John’s hand.

  John took a long breath and said, “But in the meantime, my arse has gone to sleep and the water’s getting cold.” He kissed David and motioned for him to sit up. “I think we need to dry off, cook some dinner, and figure out what you want me to say to your son next time we meet.”

  Chapter 26

  NAIL-BITTEN FINGERS touched the picture with a reverence usually reserved for a priceless treasure. They carefully turned the tattered-edged page to look at a montage of sketches; some finished, some roughly rendered, but all of John. Adam took in each sketch in turn, noting the fine detail in and around the eyes and the gentle curve of the lips. He looked up at John and asked the question that had been on his mind since the day at the gallery. “So you and my dad?” He left it hanging there and gave a single shrug, not knowing how to finish it.

  John smiled and was able to say, “We’re together, Adam, if that’s what you’re asking.” He had discussed this with David, what to say and what to omit, but they’d both agreed they had to be up front with David’s son about their relationship.

  Adam nodded and looked back at the page. “I thought so,” he said quietly. “That day at the gallery… you looked together.”

  “Looked together, huh?” John couldn’t resist saying with a grin on his face.

  “You know… comfortable with each other,” Adam said and rolled his eyes at John. “I watched you two for a little while because I wasn’t sure if it was my dad. His hair is a lot longer and he’s so skinny.”

  John’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Dave’s put so much weight on in the past few months.”

  “Nah, he’s skinny,” Adam said with a surety that made John laugh. “Not what he was like when I was a kid. Not that he was fat or anything; just more, um, solid.”

  “What was he like when you were young? Can you tell me that?” John asked, wanting to understand more about David before both depression and the street took hold of him.

  “Dad? He was always a bit of a dag.” Adam grinned and leaned back in his seat. “When I was just a kid we used to make up really sick jokes. You know, gross stuff, and Mum used to tell us off all the time. Of course that just made us do it even more.”

  John smiled and tried very hard to imagine David laughing and telling jokes; it saddened him that he couldn’t quite do it.

  “But I dunno, he did stuff different from a lot of dads. I mean, he played football with me, but he’d do other things too.” Adam’s smile took on an almost wistful shape as he remembered one particular thing. “Like my elf books.”

  Seeing the curious look, Adam quickly leaned forward as if he were telling John an important secret, but the light in his eyes told John it was a good memory. “Every now and then he’d say to me that the elves had visited us and then we’d hunt around the garden looking under bushes and even in the trees until we’d find a tiny little book. Really tiny; the size of a matchbook. It was full of drawings and a story about a boy named Adam.” He shook his head as if still in awe of their find. “The pictures were always so detailed and it took me ages to figure out Dad did them for me. I still have a couple of them.”

  John smiled, watching the joy in Adam’s face, but he said nothing, not wanting to break into the precious memory. After a brief moment Adam shrugged and with a long sigh went back to looking at the sketchbook. Turning the page, he pointed at a picture of Jamie. “Who’s this guy?”

  Tilting his head for a better look John grinned at the almost childlike mischief that hid Jamie’s gentle wisdom and explained. “That’s Jamie. It was his mum who took David into the store. Jamie shares his sandwich with him every day and he’s the one who convinced me to give your dad a chance.”

  “He looks like a good person,” Adam mused, looking at the typically generous expression David had captured in Jamie’s eyes.

  “He is,” John agreed. “He taught me a few things about human decency. I was all set to put profit before your dad’s well-being. To be honest, I didn’t even consider him as a person at the start.” Actually stating that out loud to David’s son shook John, but acceptance of his own flaws was something else he’d recently started to learn. He looked up at Adam and admitted, “Jamie made me think about how cold it got at night and how unsafe it was for people like your dad.”

  “People like my dad,” Adam repeated quietly, trying to get it clear in his head that the father he’d known could be seen by society as a whole different category of human being.

  John slowly reached over and ran his fingers along the twisted and broken spiral binding. “His sketchbooks were the only thing he had; his connection to you and us. He got beaten up pretty badly to stop them being taken from him. He lost everything else but saved this one. He asked me to bring it today to give it to you, Adam.”

  Adam sat and didn’t lift his eyes from
the book or make a move to answer, but John could see the tight clench of his jaw. It was something he’d seen in David far too many times. Resisting his long-held pattern of avoidance, John said softly, “It’s okay, lad. He just wanted you to know that he loves you… always has.”

  Adam nodded and carefully slid the sketchbook into his school bag. John felt an unexpected twinge of anxiety when the book disappeared from his sight but assured himself that this was what David wanted and his son had a right to it.

  SIDE BY side at the kitchen sink, one washing and the other drying, John filled David in on the final details of his conversation with Adam.

  “He said you were a dag, you know.” John chuckled at the “Aussie-ism” and gave him a sideways glance, still trying to picture David in that role.

  “He’s right.” David grinned but kept his eyes down on the tea towel moving rhythmically over the rim of the white dinner plate.

  “Said you used to make up gross jokes.”

  “I did,” David replied this time with a light giggle.

  John shook his head, bumped him gently with his hip, and said softly, “Dag.”

  This time David actually laughed and bumped him back. It was a small gesture, but enough to make John’s heart swell. He stood and grinned at David for a moment before dipping a couple of fingers into the dishwater and scooping a well-aimed soap bubble at David.

  Looking down at the bubbles popping to spread a dark wet patch on his T-shirt, David raised his eyebrows, looked John straight in the eye, and flicked him with the towel.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” John growled and rounded on David, who instantly took a step back, still chuckling. But rather than grabbing at the towel, John’s hand cupped the back of David’s head and he leaned in to snatch a kiss. Their teeth clashed a little as they smiled through the kiss, but neither minded.

  David’s hands moved forward to rest lightly on John’s hips and this time he initiated the kiss. It was slow and tentative at first, but deepened when their tongues found each other. The damp towel dropped to the floor as David tightened his grip and pulled John closer, pressing hard against him. Their playful struggle changed into a sensual dance as their hips slowly slid together while they breathed each other’s air.

  John’s hand slipped under the hem of David’s T-shirt, brushing over ribs now barely evident beneath the smooth flesh. He nipped lightly at David’s bottom lip while his fingers dropped lower to trace the outline of David’s budding erection through the worn fabric of his jeans. John slowly eased the zipper down and slid his hand between denim and heated skin to press his palm against the hardening flesh. When David turned his hip into the touch John curled his fingers to feel the weight of the needy cock.

  David’s head tipped back; half-open eyes focused on John while he moaned and pushed his hips into each movement of John’s hand. Although the obvious desire in David’s eyes surprised John, he went with their need and slowly moved them the few steps back to the wall. Strong hands moved from the open jeans to grip slender hips. In a single near-urgent action John quickly turned David to the wall to lean hard against him while sliding lips and tongue over the light sweat on the back of David’s neck.

  The faded wallpaper against his cheek shifted. Rough concrete scraped an already fist-bloodied cheek and David tensed, waiting for the pain.

  It was the sudden stillness that alerted John more than anything else. His breath was ragged when he whispered, “Dave?”

  No response.

  The realization of their position, of what it might mean to David, swept through John, leaving him filled with fear-driven nausea. His breathing hitched and faltered while he tried to calm himself against David’s back. Although his instant reaction was to haul David away from the wall and splutter out heartfelt apologies, John hesitated and listened to something more instinctual. Easing off just enough to release some of the pressure, John leaned gently against David, his hands soft as they brushed lightly over the unresponsive body.

  The first few words made no sounds and perhaps no sense while John tried to settle himself. Gradually he found his voice.

  “I don’t know where you are right now, David, but I’m here if you need me. Look for me, Davey. I’m here,” he finally managed to whisper. He repeated these and other words over and over, trying to keep his tone calm and level.

  Clutching, grasping hurting fingers slowed… changed… gentle and soft, not pushing, not tearing… words of threat and filth found disappeared into an accent… they whispered and caressed forcing the other words into silence….

  John.

  The tension under his hands slowly began to subside and John rested his forehead lightly on David’s shoulder. “That’s it, Dave,” he murmured, giving in to his own relief. “You’re here with me and I’ll never hurt you.”

  John slowly slid his arms around David’s waist and eased him away from the wall, keeping him close against his own body. David stood disoriented. Though his eyes were open he wasn’t yet seeing the room. He closed them and listened, listened to the northern accent made soft by the gentle tone. David continued to lean against the warm body that issued that low rumbling voice and began to understand that he’d found his way back to John. Consciously slowing his breathing as he’d been taught, David let go of the last threads of the other reality and whispered, “I’m sorry, John.”

  “Oh, David, you have nothing to be sorry for,” John reassured him, his voice cracking just a little. He took a deep breath and raised his head. “Absolutely nothing.”

  He carefully brushed David’s hair behind his ear and placed a chaste kiss on his neck. “Would you like to lie down for a while? I can put the kettle on and make us a drink.”

  David listened, took a breath, and straightened. He glanced at John and nodded.

  “Come on then…. You’ll feel better in your own bed. I’ll make us tea and be in in a minute,” John babbled as he walked with David to the door of the bedroom, his hand resting lightly on the small of his back until David gave him a tired smile and wandered into the dark room. It was only when he made it into the kitchen that John felt the shaking seize his body. He slumped against the kitchen bench, shoulders bent, and seemed to crumple. The sounds he made were small as they bounced around the otherwise silent room.

  Slowly, very slowly, John became quiet and the shudders eased. He was tired to the very marrow of his bones and at that moment knew he needed to be near David.

  He straightened and looked toward the bedroom, but he hesitated; part of him needed to make their tea first. He roughly scrubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand and set the cups on the counter, each with its own saucer and teaspoon. Even though he knew it would still be sitting un-drunk and stone cold in the morning, he went through the entire process of properly preparing the beverage.

  When the tea was ready John stood and looked at it. He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the full cups where they sat.

  The only light in the bedroom came from the waning moon in the corner of the window. John could just make out David’s body beneath the quilt. He slowly shed his clothes and snuggled in behind David, where he carefully put an arm around him. Many layers of anxiety dissolved when David leaned back against him with a quiet “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” he murmured and kissed the bare skin of David’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  David turned his face enough to see John and gave him a small nod. “I’m okay.”

  John heaved a long sigh and held David closer. “While I made the tea, I was thinking about the first time we made love. I was so scared for you… and me.”

  David frowned, but John continued. “I was so scared I’d hurt you. We were like this, me behind you, and I wanted you so much.” His hand moved down to gently caress David’s hip bone, subconsciously mimicking his actions of that night.

  David closed his eyes and let John’s voice and touch bring it all back to him. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, John,” he mumbled, understand
ing that it was one of the few things he did know at the time.

  John’s fingers splayed out over the pale skin, reading the changes beneath them. The bones weren’t quite so angular and they didn’t need to hesitate over the purple and yellow blemishes of a recent beating. This time John’s fingers didn’t tremble and were sure of their touch; this was David, the man he loved and who loved him back.

  Chapter 27

  YOU LEARN fast on the street. David had wandered for days with no purpose or even an understanding of why he was there. He just knew he needed to walk.

  But he learned quickly to keep his eyes down when around large groups of teenage boys partying their freedom on a Friday night. Communication with other humans was rare and generally to be avoided.

  Give nothing away about yourself and you might remain safe.

  David knew the times public toilets were locked after dark; then it was parks, alleys, and vacant lots. He watched old-timers stuff their clothes with discarded newspapers in bitter weather and followed suit. Anything to stay warm and survive another day where the sun may come out.

  David knew he’d never lose what he’d learned. Even here with John snoring lightly against his back, it would stay with him despite their skin sharing warmth in the first gray of dawn.

  “I LAY in bed and watched him sleep last night,” John said softly with an embarrassed shrug, not even sure why it was relevant. But Barbara smiled, understanding that he’d get around to what he wanted to say when he was ready.

  “Last night….” John stopped and gave a slightly frustrated glance at the ceiling. “Things have been going so well. Then last night I think I pushed him… David, too hard. We were um, playing around and we got carried away. I held him against the wall and he kind of disappeared. It was as if he went into himself. I frightened him, Barb, and it was only when I stopped and talked to him that he was able to come back.”