Lovers Leap

by JL Merrow

  “Oh. Oh.” Rufus flung his arms around Michael, which was great, was more than great, was just what he’d needed, Christ—if it hadn’t been for the tiny, panicked voice inside him going, Oh fuck, this is the street where you live, everyone will see, they’ll know you’re a poof, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

  Michael told his inner coward to fuck off and die in a fire. He’d have told it to take his inner homophobe with it too, ’cept he had a nasty feeling they still had some unfinished business to deal with.

  He was getting there, all right?

  “I didn’t mean to leave you,” Rufus was saying into Michael’s neck. “I just thought you’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Liz said impatiently. “Noble and self-sacrificing, blah blah blah, Jesus, you’re worse than your dad. Who, by the way, you’re gonna be having a serious conversation with before the week’s out. Come on, we’ve got a ferry to catch.”

  “You gonna be all right going in a car with this tosser, babe?” Trix said.

  Michael frowned. “Trix?”

  “Not you, you tosser. I’m talking to Liz.”

  “Oi, since when is she ‘babe’?” Not that Michael cared, but trying to work out what was going on was giving him a headache. “And who are you calling a tosser?”

  “You, you tosser.” Trix did the hand gesture as well. “Going to kickboxing next week? Better get Rufus to kiss your balls good-bye first, cos I’ll be ripping ’em off to hang ’em from my rear-view mirror. Tosser.”

  “Yeah? You and whose army?” Michael grinned, glad she didn’t seem to have too many hard feelings about it all. “Now we’re not going out together, I won’t have to worry about holding back when we spar.”

  “Holding back? You wish. Liz, babe, you take care, right? And if that tosser gives you or Rufus any shit, you tell me. I know how to deal with him.” She bent down to give Liz a sloppy kiss, then straightened to give Michael the finger.

  Michael shook his head. Lesbians.

  Shit. Did he just say that out loud?

  It’d explain why Trix was suddenly right up in his face. “I’m bi, remember? Despite all your attempts to put me off men for life. And what’s your problem with lesbians, anyway?”

  Michael backed off a step and held up his hands, with a bit of difficulty as he still had Rufus hanging round his neck like the world’s most fuckable fashion accessory. “Nothing. I got no problem with lesbians. Just thought you’re living the stereotype a bit, that’s all. You know, like the joke? ‘What does a lesbian bring to a second date? A U-Haul.’”

  Trix folded her arms, her eyes narrowed. “You wanna talk stereotypes? How about the bi bloke who shags anything that holds still long enough, eh? I’ve heard all kinds of stories about you, screwing around like an alley cat what’s never had the snip. People like you”—she jabbed a finger in Michael’s direction. Michael swung Rufus out of the way just in time to avoid him getting a nasty stab wound in the back from her fingernail—“are what give people like me a bad name. I’ve had it up to my tits with blokes thinking ‘bi’ means ‘total slapper.’”

  “Oi, can you stop bad-mouthing me in front of my bloke? That’s all in the past, yeah? I’m with Rufus now.” He stroked Rufus’s hair, smiling at the way Rufus snuggled in closer. He half expected him to start purring like Charity’s cat. Although hopefully when Rufus had had enough petting, he wouldn’t try to take Michael’s arm off.

  When Michael looked up, Trix and Liz were both staring at him, open-mouthed.

  “What?” he demanded, annoyed.

  “That was actually . . . sort of romantic,” Liz said at last. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right to drive? Not feeling feverish, delusional, any of that kind of crap?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “No, he’s fine,” she said, turning to Trix. “Later, yeah? Make sure your internet connection’s stable, cos you’re not gonna want to miss a second of what I’ve got planned for tonight’s show. And you,” she added, spinning back to face Michael. “Don’t even think about perving off on the thought of me and her getting it on, right?”

  Huh. That hadn’t even occurred to Michael.

  Christ. He really did have it bad for Rufus.

  Rufus lifted his head, leaving Michael’s neck and shoulder feeling sad and cold. “You and Trix can totally perv on the thought of me and Michael getting it on, though. We don’t mind.”

  Michael nodded, cos it was a fair point and he could afford to be generous.

  Trix made a face, and Liz said, “Thanks, we’ll pass.”

  They were only jealous, because, face it, who wouldn’t wanna perv on the thought of him and Rufus together? “So are we getting this ferry or what?” Michael asked.

  “We’re getting this ferry,” Rufus said, and kissed him.

  Michael didn’t think anyone he knew was around to see it.

  Care. He meant, he didn’t care if anyone he knew was around to see it.

  Definitely.

  The girls had one last snog, and Liz climbed into the Saab’s back seat, where she started bitching about the lack of leg room. Michael ignored her and drove off, one hand on Rufus’s thigh. He’d meant it about not letting him go again.

  They had sausage and chips on the ferry, although Rufus and Liz didn’t seem all that hungry and just picked at theirs. And then Michael got thinking about what’d just happened with him coming out to Mum and stuff, and then he lost his appetite, and they all just sat there staring at full plates of overpriced food going cold.

  Michael turned to look at Rufus, which was a definite improvement on chips going soggy and sausages cementing themselves to the plates with their own grease. “I know why I’m not hungry, but what’s your problem?”

  Rufus bit his lip. “I think I ate my body weight in pizza earlier. And ice cream. Plus, well, I’ve got to tell Dad about my ferry thing, haven’t I?”

  Fuck it. Michael put his arm around Rufus’s shoulders. “Look, you don’t have to, just cos I—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Liz cut him off. “He’s telling him. And if you don’t”—she turned to Rufus—“I will, all right? It’s for your own good,” she added smugly. “Time you started living your own life, not your dad’s.”

  “Yeah, your dad’s doing all right for himself, ain’t he?” Christ. Michael was agreeing with Liz about something. His world really had turned upside down today. “Him with his young bit of fluff and all. How’d that even happen, anyhow?”

  “What, Dad and Shelley? She came to stay the summer before I met Liz. Booked a room at the B&B for a fortnight, and never left. Think she was a bit lonely,” Rufus added, looking thoughtful. “It was her first holiday since her first marriage broke up, and she was all on her own. So she didn’t really go out much in the evenings, and they got talking. A lot.”

  “Was he an older bloke and all? Her first husband?”

  “Bit, I think. She never really talks about him much. Although she did say once that he left her cos she couldn’t have kids, which is a totally bastard thing to do.”

  “She can’t have kids?” Liz leaned forward over the table. If her boobs had been bigger, she’d have been dunking them in her ketchup. Michael sniggered under his breath at the thought. “You never told me that.”

  “It never came up. Well, actually, she told me not to tell anyone. Oops. She probably only really meant Dad, though.”

  “Why? Your dad doesn’t want any more kids, does he?”

  “Don’t think he minds either way. But I think she feels embarrassed about it. Like it’s a failing or something.” Rufus made a face. “Think her first husband was a bit of a shit about it, actually.”

  “And they couldn’t have tried to adopt?”

  “Don’t think he wanted anyone else’s kid.”

  “Tosser.” Michael stretched, and peered out the window. He felt sorry for Shelley, yeah, but he didn’t wanna talk about mums and kids right now, all right? “We nearly there yet?”

/>   Liz’s lip curled up. “You’re all heart, you are.”

  Rufus drove back home with just Liz as a passenger, as Michael had brought his car on the ferry rather than leave it parked at the terminal. It meant the journey was a bit more peaceful than it might otherwise have been, but Rufus was still obscurely relieved to see the Saab parked in front of the B&B when they pulled up in the Focus.

  “Thought how you’re gonna explain this to the folks?” Liz asked as they got out.

  “Um. Not really. Maybe a sort of good-news-bad-news thing?”

  “As in, the good news is, you got on a ferry and left the island, but the bad news is, you picked up something nasty while you were over there? Pun totally intended.”

  “I’m right here,” Michael said. He didn’t sound too narked though, so Rufus ignored him.

  “Hey, Michael’s the good news.” Rufus worried at his lip with his teeth as they walked round to the side door. “Well, he will be once I’ve explained things properly.”

  He opened the door, to find Dad, Shelley, and little Kieran sitting around the kitchen table, finger-painting. “Mummy, mummy, mummy!” Kieran shouted, jumping down to toddle over to Liz and leave paint-smears all over her jeans.

  “How’s my darling little man?” she cooed, picking him up and holding him at arm’s length. “Have we been painting? Have we been using washable paints this time, or does Mummy have to have words with Auntie Shelley and Uncle Gerald again?”

  Dad beamed up at them, then obviously caught sight of Michael. He frowned and opened his mouth.

  “I went on a ferry!” Rufus said quickly.

  “Really? That’s wonderful,” Dad said, standing up. He had one blue hand and one green one. Luckily, unlike Kieran, he wasn’t really the hugging sort. “And you didn’t have any problems?”

  “Nope. Must be cured,” Rufus said, crossing his fingers behind his back and his toes inside his trainers for good measure.

  Shelley got up too. Her hands were yellow and red. Rufus backed off a step. “Yeah? That’s great, love. I’m really pleased for you.” Her smile looked a bit wobbly, though. “S’pose the world’s your oyster, now. You won’t want to be hanging around here with us old folks.” She walked over to the kitchen sink and stood there for a moment, looking perplexed, until Rufus realised what the problem was and turned on the taps for her. “Cheers, love,” she said, rinsing her fingers. “Not that it’s not lovely to see him,” she added, “but how come your Michael’s here?”

  “Is he still your Michael?” Dad asked, his frown deepening.

  “Yeah, so, it turns out Judy got the story a bit wrong, yeah? Or, well, not wrong exactly, but—”

  “Jesus, save me from you trying to talk me up,” Michael interrupted him.

  Dad put his hands on his hips. Rufus winced for his cardigan, now adorned with primary-coloured handprints. “Well, if you’d like to explain yourself . . .?”

  Michael looked like he’d rather jump straight back into Sandown Bay.

  Rufus had to intervene. “He came out to his mum for me. And she chucked him out the house.”

  “She never!” Shelley put a thankfully clean hand to her mouth. “Her own son?”

  “Her only son,” Rufus clarified, laying it on with a trowel but so what? “Course, she chucked me out first.”

  “Oi,” Michael butted in. “She didn’t chuck me out. I just told her if she was gonna make me choose, then I was gonna choose Rufus. And anyway, it’s not her fault, yeah? She’s religious.”

  Which was, like, the best thing he could have said, cos while Rufus was going all melty about it, Dad softened right up too. “Sit down,” he said, pulling out a chair for Michael. “Rufus?”

  Rufus knew his cue. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “And I’m off home,” Liz announced. She’d somehow managed to clean Kieran up in the meantime, bundle him into his coat, and shoulder the bag with all his stuff. It was like she had magical mum powers.

  “On your own?” Michael asked gruffly. He looked a bit embarrassed by all the attention.

  “Yeah, it’s not far,” Liz said blithely.

  He stared her down. “It’s dark. I’ll walk you. What? You think I’m giving Trix another reason to kick the shi—stuff out of me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Make yourself useful, then, and carry the bag.”

  He grabbed it, and they left.

  Rufus filled the kettle, set it on to boil, then sat down at the kitchen table. The finger paintings were quite pretty, although Shelley’s was definitely the best, all smiley faces and sunshine. Kieran had gone for a more abstract approach, and Dad had tried to do animals but they hadn’t really worked. Rufus wasn’t sure exactly which animals Dad had tried to portray, but speaking personally, he would definitely have gone for an even number of legs. Then again, was that just him being ableist?

  Something was itching at the back of Rufus’s neck, and he looked up to find himself the subject of a couple of heavy stares. “What?”

  Dad coughed. “Ah, Michael?”

  “Um, would you believe he’s a total sweetie when you get to know him? Oh, and I met the ex, and she’s, like, totally no hard feelings about it all. Well, maybe some hard feelings, but she’s actually really glad he turned her down.” Rufus paused. “Um, this still isn’t making Michael look good, is it?”

  “Rufus, love, you know your dad and me just want you to be happy. Don’t we, love?” Shelley glanced over at Dad, who nodded hastily.

  “Absolutely.” Then he frowned again. “But why didn’t you tell us you were going to try a ferry trip?”

  “Um, I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work out? But anyway,” Rufus added quickly. “You know I’m going to stay here, right? I mean, I’m not going to leave the island now, just cos I can.”

  Dad and Shelley had a quick exchange of glances that left Rufus wondering (a) exactly what they were saying and (b) whether there was some kind of course married couples went on to teach them how to communicate without the kids catching on. Also, (c) if these courses were available to unmarried couples and (d) gay ones in particular, cos it’d be really useful if he wanted to, say, arrange a shag with Michael without Dad and Shelley catching on. Then again, (e) was it just the one language that everyone learned, which would make it a bit useless in this particular instance?

  Rufus was just getting to (f), which was going to be something really profound about whether teen slang had evolved as a direct reaction to (b), when the door opened and Michael walked back in.

  Michael levelled his gaze at Dad. “Right. No need to get a room ready. I’m gonna be bunking with Rufus.”

  “Is that so?” Dad asked in a sort of mildly interested voice that managed to subtly convey that anything that was gonna happen would happen with his approval or not at all. “Rufus?”

  “Um, kettle’s boiled, who’s for tea?” Rufus sprang up from the table and started clattering around with mugs.

  He probably missed whole conversations going on silently behind his back. Which was a definite bonus.

  Michael coughed behind him. “Gonna take my bag up,” he said gruffly.

  “Oh, okay,” Rufus said without looking up. He was a bit busy juggling tea bags.

  There was a short silence, broken only by Michael’s footsteps.

  “Um, love?” Shelley said hesitantly. “Think you might wanna . . .”

  Rufus looked round. Dad gave him a gentle smile. “I think your young man might be a little upset after the way things went with his mother. Why don’t you go up to him, and I’ll make the tea?”

  “Oh. Oh, right.” Rufus put down the mug he was holding. “Um, Dad? You’re not mad at me for bringing him back here?”

  “No. Now, off you go.”

  Rufus took a deep breath and hurried up to his room.

  Michael was sitting on the bed, looking lost. He glanced up from his contemplation of the duvet cover. “Liz said she’s gonna come over tomorrow. Said she’s got a
couple of ideas.”

  Rufus blinked. “Ideas? About what?”

  Michael shrugged. “Din’t say.”

  He looked back down at the duvet, which honestly didn’t rate all this attention. It was a plain old boring abstract pattern in blues and greens. Rufus’s Killer Baker duvet cover with the skull and crossed whisks was way more interesting.

  Rufus sat down next to Michael and snuggled up. “She’ll come round. I mean, she’s already come halfway round. Well, at least a third. And she said she didn’t mean what she said, whatever it was.”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah. It’s just . . . she’s my mum, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Rufus bit his lip. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve listened when you said she’d have a problem with it.”

  “’S okay. I shoulda told her years ago. It’s just . . . she’s always been on my side, yeah? I didn’t want her to . . . not be. I shoulda said stuff, though. Told her she was wrong, all that stuff she used to say about gay people, not let her think I felt the same way she did.” Michael looked up. “’M glad you left when you did. Wouldn’t of wanted you to hear what she said.”

  Rufus wondered what he meant. “Your mum? She seemed, you know, nice. I mean, apart from the homophobia.”

  “Yeah. Got it in one.” Michael gave him a twisted smile. “S’pose we oughtta go downstairs again, yeah? Don’t want your dad thinking we’re getting up to stuff in here.”

  “Don’t care,” Rufus said firmly. “I’ve been thinking. I mean, they know now I’m staying here to help run the B&B cos it’s my choice, not cos I’m stuck on the island. So it ought to be on the basis I’m an adult, and I get to do what I want with who I want, in my own room. Um. Although we should probably still keep the noise down, cos it’d be totally embarrassing if they heard us, or, like, knocked on the wall to complain.”

  “So that’s what you’re gonna do, is it? Stay here? Not be a chef?”

  Rufus shrugged. “Haven’t got much choice, have I? Can’t leave Dad and Shelley in the lurch. But we’ll still be able to see each other. I mean, I’ll come over to the mainland lots, and you can come over here. You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? If you . . . don’t want to go back home.” It was probably a bit too soon to mention the moving-to-the-island plan, Rufus decided with regret.