by J. M. Colail
Barbara shook her head and reached over to touch his hand. “No, John. That’s not totally true. It wasn’t you that frightened him. There are places in David’s memories that I’m sure neither of us would want to be. They’re going to surface from time to time and, as scary as it might seem, that needs to happen.”
It was John’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t understand. How can what I saw him go through last night help?”
“Burying things doesn’t help. You two are very similar in that way. Far too similar in fact,” she said, as an almost cheeky smile crept into the corners of her mouth. “The main difference is that you were given some good advice and found your little store before it all became too much for you.”
She sat back and sipped her coffee to let John mull over the concept. Finally he nodded his acceptance and she continued. “He’s learning, John; learning how to cope with both his past and his present. I don’t think he’s ready to deal with thinking about his future yet. You know I can’t tell you what we discuss in our sessions, but he’s working so hard at it. And from what you just told me it’s helping… you are helping. Don’t look so surprised! What you did through instinct, talking to him, was what he needed to help him find a way home when he got lost.”
When he got lost…. John knew that was true because that’s exactly how it had felt. Looking down at his hands, John voiced the one fear that still ate at him. “What if I can’t always do that?”
“Then you can’t, John,” Barbara answered with total and somewhat unnerving honesty. “But I believe he’s not the same man who slept here clutching his sketchbooks. David won’t always hide now. He’ll look for you, John.”
“Fuck,” John cursed quietly and tightened his fingers around his mug.
But Barbara just gave him a small laugh and asked, “So how are you doing, John?”
“Me? I’m okay,” John replied as if to deny his white knuckles.
“Of course you are,” Barbara commented with a raised eyebrow, making John laugh.
JAMIE HUNCHED over the counter flicking through a magazine, not really taking time over any of the articles, but doing that aimless browsing we adopt when avoiding onerous work tasks. A shadow passed over a picture of a celebrity who was trying to prove that they’d eaten at least once in their lifetime and Jamie looked up to give the elderly customer his best smile. “Adele, what can I do for you today?”
She gave him a slightly confused frown and placed a small parcel on the counter. Jamie looked at it and then back to the woman, wondering if he was supposed to know what this meant. “Is that for me?”
Adele shook her head and pointed to the front of the store. “A young man was sitting outside and gave it to me to bring in for his dad. David, I think he said. That’s the quiet man who stays near the old books, isn’t it? Didn’t look big enough to be dangerous, the package I mean, so I brought it in.”
Jamie immediately looked in the direction she’d indicated but saw no one through the window. “Um, can you do me a favor and look after the store for a minute?” Jamie asked, already heading toward the door.
“Look after the store,” Adele muttered and moved behind the counter with an air of authority. “I worked in retail for over forty years; I could run this store.”
Jamie rushed out onto the street, but could only see a group of mothers listening to schoolyard tales as they walked their children home. “Shit,” he cursed quietly but still received an admonishing glare from one of the women. Jamie muttered a quick sorry and gave her an apologetic smile. It was then he saw past the group to spot the back of a teenage boy disappearing up the street.
It was only a glimpse, yet it was enough to send Jamie jogging up the street until he was able to stretch out his arm and touch the boy’s shoulder. “Adam? It is Adam, isn’t it?” Jamie asked hopefully when the young man stopped and turned toward him.
Adam gave Jamie a long look before finally nodding. “Yeah. I, ah, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I know I’m not supposed to be here.”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said quickly, seeing how flustered Adam was at being approached. He nodded toward a nearby bench and starting walking, watching to make sure the teenager followed him. “I’m just surprised you knew how to find us.”
“It was pretty easy,” Adam started quietly. “I mean, I knew John’s name and that he had a bookstore so it didn’t take me long to run a few searches on the Net.” He glanced sideways at Jamie and shrugged.
“Fuck, I can barely do e-mail stuff.” Jamie giggled, even though he was actually quite proficient on a computer. “So you found your dad?”
“Yeah, but I know I need to give him time; John and I have talked about that.” Adam looked down at his hands and picked at a bit of dry skin next to his nail, threatening to make it bleed. Jamie nodded a little sadly. “Your dad is such a good person, Adam. He’s worth waiting for, and he’ll get there. So why the present?”
By this stage Adam had decided that he liked this Jamie guy and that his dad had got him just right in the sketch. He smiled and announced, “Today’s his birthday.”
Jamie stared for a second. “Yeah? Shit, he kept that pretty quiet. But knowing Dave I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.”
“I just wanted him to have something. To know I’m thinking about him,” Adam suggested, not sure if he was expressing how he really felt. “That’s okay, isn’t it? He’ll be okay with that?”
Jamie had no idea how David would react to the realization that his son knew where he was but chose to reassure the worried teenager. “I think it’ll mean a lot to him, Adam.”
Adam nodded and looked down the street to where he could just make out the front of the bookstore. “Is he in there now?”
Briefly following Adam’s line of sight, Jamie quietly confirmed, “Yeah. Dave’s in his favorite old leather chair with his nose buried in a book.”
It took several rapid blinks to clear the moisture that welled in Adam’s eyes at the scene he could so easily picture, and it hurt to know his dad was that close and he couldn’t talk to him. “I miss him.”
For an instant all Jamie wanted to do was to grab Adam’s hand and walk him through the door of Margins and sit him in the battered chair next to his father, but he knew he couldn’t do that to David. He’d come so far in the past year; each small step took courage and those steps had to be his own. “He misses you too, Adam,” Jamie sighed. “He wants to be part of your life, but give him a bit longer, yeah?”
Adam nodded and stood up. “I know, more time. I better get going. My mum will be expecting me home. Tell my dad I said happy birthday, okay?”
“I will… and give him a hard time for not telling us.” Jamie smiled and patted Adam on the back before turning toward Margins.
“The wanderer returns.” John grinned at Adele but made it very obvious the comment was directed at Jamie. Without even acknowledging the dig, Jamie bent forward to give Adele a quick kiss and said, “Thank you. I managed to talk to him and everything’s all right.”
“That’s good,” she whispered as if they shared a secret, and then said a little louder, “Keep me in mind if you ever need advice on retail; did it for years, you know.” She gave them a cheeky smile and walked very straight-backed out of the store.
“Now what was that all about?” John asked, standing with arms folded and a curious grin on his face.
“It was Adam,” Jamie whispered and shoved John toward their little kitchen. “He was here.”
The color visibly drained from John’s face. “Fuck. What happened? Is Dave all right?” He instantly made to move out the door but Jamie quickly held up his hands. “Dave doesn’t know. Adam didn’t come in.”
Dave doesn’t know. “Okay… okay.” John rubbed his fingers over his mouth, taking a moment to process the situation. “Why was he here? What did Adam want?”
Digging the little parcel out of his pocket, Jamie showed it to John and said, “It’s David’s birthday.”
John l
ooked from the parcel to Jamie and then out to the store. “He didn’t say anything.” John’s voice was quiet and held a tinge of hurt.
“Maybe he doesn’t know?” Jamie offered. “I mean, he doesn’t seem to follow a regular calendar. He only found out it was nearly Adam’s birthday by accident, remember, and he’d see that as more important than his own birthday.”
John nodded sadly; he remembered that only too well… and what David had resorted to to see his son. Finally he turned back to Jamie with a very determined look and said, “Dave has a present to open from his son.”
David was sitting buried in the second book of a trilogy, boots beside the chair and a leg curled beneath him. It was a familiar sight to John, but it still had the power to make his heart rise into his throat. “Do you know what day it is, Dave?” John said quietly and sat next to him. When David just nodded, John pushed the little package into his hand and admitted, “I didn’t know, but Adam did.”
The tension in David’s body was instant; he stared at the package as if it contained all the ills of the world.
“He brought it for you,” John explained carefully. “He didn’t come in, Dave…. Adam’s a good boy.”
When David didn’t move John began to gently rub his hand over the knotted muscles at the back of David’s neck. “You want me to leave it with you?”
The question took a while to register and David’s eyes drifted up to John’s before returning to his hands. Slowly his fingers began to peel off the tape; three pieces in all. Next the blue foil wrapping was folded back and David held in his hand a tiny book.
John leaned forward to get a better look. “It’s an elf book.” The comment was whispered but held the awe David remembered in little Adam’s voice. He looked up at John and smiled. “Yeah… it is.”
Together they sat in the leather chairs and read through the story of a teenage boy called Adam who had searched for a misplaced treasure only to find he hadn’t lost it at all.
THE INSISTENT ring finally broke through the dreams of sleep. With a groan John threw back the covers and grumbled all the way to the living room, ready to give the caller a serve.
“Hello, may I speak to John McCann please?” The voice was that of an elderly woman trying hard to mask a prominent accent in a “proper telephone voice”.
“Speaking.” John frowned; the familiarity of the voice took away the last of his anger even though he couldn’t quite put a face to it.
“Hello, pet. It’s your Aunt Annie.”
John was quiet when he slid back into bed. David lay on his side and watched John settle without a word of who was on the phone. “You okay?” he whispered, hating how his voice echoed in the silence of the dark room.
At first there was no answer and the question seemed to hang between them, but finally John said in an oddly matter-of-fact voice, “My dad died.”
When nothing else was said, David shuffled the short distance between them and leaned into John’s back. His fingers gently threaded through fine blond hair that took on a bluish-silver hue in the moonlight of the open curtains. With lips inches from the pale curve of John’s ear, David murmured, “You need to go home, John.”
There was the barest shake of his head then said a soft, “I don’t know.”
John felt sick to the pit of his stomach, but concentrated on the gentle caress and gradually began to hear the soft hum of an unfamiliar tune. When the words started he didn’t recognize them but let them wash over him until the churning eased.
Softly he whispered, “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”
“I speak Spanish.”
Maybe some lessons can be unlearned and survival is more than staying warm? Sometimes you need to let your guard down and give a little more of yourself.
Chapter 28
JOHN DROPPED the empty plastic cup into the garbage bag as the cabin crew moved along the aisle to prepare the plane for landing.
He glanced down at his watch, already edgy for that calming cigarette, and caught the empathetic smile of an equally edgy businessman nearby. Returning the smile, John closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
PACKING HAD been something of a blur.
David sat on the edge of the bed and watched quietly as John bustled around the room, retrieving, folding, looking more than a little lost.
“I don’t have to go, you know, Dave,” John muttered as he looked up from the printed e-ticket.
“Yes you do.” David’s voice was calm and steady.
“I don’t like leaving you.”
“I’ll be okay, John. You need to do this.”
John knew David was right but it didn’t make leaving any easier. He glanced at the stuffed backpack leaning against the chest of drawers and felt a tinge of the old fear. Following his gaze, David said simply and quietly, “I’ll be here when you get back, John.”
John nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the headache that had been threatening all morning. His eyes were still closed when he felt arms encircle him and David’s warm breath on his cheek. Letting himself be held, John leaned heavily against David before easing away and clearing his throat. “Keep your cell phone on and I’ll call when I get there,” he said in a businesslike voice, only to sigh when he saw the rather sheepish shrug it garnered. “You’ve no idea where it is, do you?”
NOT EXPECTING an answer, John half-grinned and shook his head before pulling his own phone out of his pocket. “Don’t lose it…. I’ll pick up another one and call when I get to Heathrow.”
THE “FASTEN seat belts” sign pinged on, pulling John back to the cramped cabin. He sighed with the knowledge that David was half a world away and he was instantly hit with a wave of helplessness. Even more than that, John felt alone.
DAVID REMAINED on the sidewalk for a long while after watching John’s cab pull away. He was reluctant to go inside. The apartment would be empty.
He slumped against the cold bricks, ignoring the strange looks of early morning passersby as they made their way to work. With eyes safely downcast, David rhythmically scuffed the heel of his boot against the wall while gathering the courage to go inside.
You told John you’d be all right… so be all right. David frowned, pushed away from the wall, and wandered up the stairs to their apartment.
With the rush of packing over, the apartment was quiet, empty. After standing a little lost in the doorway David found himself wandering around the living room like he had during his first days with John; looking at the other man’s belongings. Missing him; needing him to say it was okay.
He huffed a frustrated breath. I’m past this now. He refocused and actually looked at the photos. Things were different. Next to the photo of John and his grandparents was a silver frame with a snapshot of John and David on the couch eating Chinese from takeout containers. David smiled, remembering how Jamie took the shot before they even realized what he was doing. His fingertip traced over the grainy image.
Maybe he could be part of all this now?
A sudden knock on the door startled him. David quickly moved away from the shelves to lean against the kitchen counter, not intending to answer.
Jamie stood and listened for a minute, then, rather than knocking again, said gently but loud enough to be heard, “Dave, it’s me… Jamie.”
David grinned and walked over to the door, opening it a crack. “John called you, huh?”
“Of course. The boss has to keep me in line if he’s gonna be away,” Jamie joked, waiting for David to allow him in. “And yes, before you ask, he did ask me to keep an eye on you. You know what he’s like.”
“I know.” David smiled, the thought already making him feel a little safer.
Jamie cocked an eyebrow and held up a familiar brown bakery bag. “So here I am, breakfast bagel ready to share, and looking for a cup of hot tea.”
THE SITTING room had that old-fashioned smell; over-brewed tea and stale potpourri. Not a surface was left bare; shelves were cluttered with faded photographs and
mismatched ornaments. John glanced around, remembering visiting his aunt as a small child and being told by his gran that he could look but not touch. It was a whole different world and one he thought he’d left behind long ago.
Aunt Annie sat beside him on the old but neat sofa and took his hand. “He never wanted to leave you, John,” she said softly in a Geordie accent that sounded less exotic than it did when John was a child who’d never ventured further than his grandfather’s Yorkshire allotment. “Things were different back then.”
Looking down at the pale translucent skin of her wrinkled hand, John shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course it matters, and don’t think you can get away with that with me, John McCann.” Aunt Annie looked at him over her glasses, a look John remembered all too well.
He laughed quietly. “I never could, could I?”
“No.” She patted his hand and stood up to refill his cup from the cozy-covered teapot.
John grinned at the delicately painted china lady perched on the wide crocheted skirt. It always sat atop a “good” teapot; like the one he only got to drink from when he was home sick and his grandmother tucked him up on the sofa in front of the TV.
“The good teapot,” John smiled.
Annie chuckled and set it back on the sideboard. “I think you deserve it today.”
“Yeah,” John murmured, picking up the cup.
“You were always his son, John,” Annie said softly. “Even though he wasn’t always able to be part of your life you were his little boy.”
John simply looked away. “At least I’ll get a chance to say good-bye this time.”
FRUSTRATION AND anger fought for supremacy over anxiety. David sat and stared at the plate of cookies in the middle of the table. His sessions with Barbara were never easy and he’d almost backed out today.