The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  “You need to keep clear,” Caspian said. “If the kite sweeps down and across, you don’t want to be in the way. The lines are dangerous.”

  “You’re fucking dangerous. I don’t like the look of this.”

  The kite went up and Caspian planted his feet and tugged hard on the handles.

  “What if it drags you into the air?” Zed called.

  “That’s the whole point.”

  Oh shit. “What if it drags you into the sea?”

  “I can depower in an instant by letting go of the handles. The kite will just fall from the sky, but I won’t lose it because it’ll stay attached.”

  “I’m not worried about the kite falling or getting lost. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Zed retreated to the back of the beach and watched Caspian wrestling with the kite, his only protection a pair of gloves. Zed’s heart leapt into his mouth when Caspian became airborne, and again when he crashed onto the sand and was dragged for several feet. Fuck. But Caspian stood up and tried once more. He ought to be wearing a helmet. How high could—fucking hell! That was too high. Zed started to walk toward him, but when he heard Caspian laughing, he went back to where he’d been standing.

  There was a kind of manic energy in what Caspian was doing, not dissimilar to the way he’d been yesterday when he was determined to ride a wave all the way to the beach standing up. Zed didn’t think he was trying to kill himself, but he was careless of his own safety and Zed worried he was going to get hurt. He called out twice to try and get him to stop but Caspian had said no. Zed assumed he’d tire eventually. Or he’d decide he was hungry. Zed could tempt him to stop with the offer of lunch. Or sex. And sex.

  The wind suddenly gusted and the kite flew back toward the cliff. Zed leapt to his feet.

  “Let go,” he screamed.

  Caspian ended up lying on the sand at the base of the rockface, the kite plastered high above him.

  Zed ran to his side. “Fuck! Are you okay?”

  “Yep.” His eyes were shining.

  “You st…” Zed swallowed his comment.

  Caspian stood and tugged at the kite to free it, but it wouldn’t move. “Shit. It’s caught on something.”

  “Leave it. We’ll buy them another.”

  “Don’t be daft.” Caspian took off the cuffs and gloves and handed them and the handles to Zed. “Keep hold and I’ll climb up and free it.”

  “No. Leave it,” Zed snapped. “It’s got to be thirty foot up. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I can climb that. No problem.”

  “Please don’t.”

  Caspian ignored him. Zed was filled with a combination of fury and fear. To start with there was more fury than fear but the higher Caspian climbed, the more anxious Zed became. When Caspian slipped and slithered down a few feet, dislodging a few pieces of rock before grabbing hold again, Zed had to look away, but he couldn’t bear not watching either. If Caspian fell now, he could die. Please, please, please be careful. Zed chewed the inside of his cheek so fiercely, he tasted blood.

  Then the kite was falling free. Zed yanked it back down to the sand, then stood on it. Caspian slipped on the descent and for a moment hung on with only one hand. But he stabilised and climbed the rest of the way down, jumping the last five feet. He had the widest smile on his face, full of joy and pride and Zed wanted to thump him.

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” Zed snapped.

  He stepped off the kite and dropped the cuffs and handles. Once he’d retrieved the bag he’d brought down, he set off up the path toward the cottage.

  “Hey, wait for me,” Caspian called.

  No, I’m fucking not. He strode off. If Caspian couldn’t work out why he was so pissed off with him… If he’s going to kill himself, he can’t expect me to watch. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out, hoping Caspian was saying sorry but it was a text from a number he didn’t recognise.

  I’m coming back for you, little brother.

  Zed almost dropped his phone. Fahid. How did he know the number? Zed thought for a moment, then called Jackson as he continued up the path.

  “Hi,” Jackson said.

  “I just had a text. I’m coming back for you, little brother.”

  “Ah. Who do you think it’s from?”

  “Fahid used to call me little brother. Tamaz too sometimes. But I think this is Fahid. If it was Tamaz saying he was coming home to help me sort out our father’s affairs, I don’t think those words would be the ones he’d use. I think it’s a threat from Fahid.”

  “Possibly, but there’s a chance that whoever sent it does mean it in a pleasant way. Fahid feeling guilty for leaving you in the lurch, running and not taking you? Your brother preparing to return to the UK for your sake?”

  Maybe. “How did they get my number?”

  “Presumably you’ve given it to several organisations over the last week or so in connection with your father’s death.”

  “Yes.”

  “But not your actual address.”

  “No. I used the one on the driver’s licence. Does it exist?”

  “It’s an empty house. If whoever sent that text checked it out, they’d know you weren’t living there.” Jackson sighed. “Text them back. Try to anyway. Put Masha’ Alla and see if they respond.”

  Whatever Allah wants? His heart thumped. “Okay.”

  “When are you back from Cornwall?”

  “Next Wednesday.”

  “I’ll have someone keep an eye on you once you return. Have you told Henry?”

  “No. They’re out.”

  “Tell him when he gets back. I’ll return your father’s phone. There’s nothing of significance on there but it’s the number Tamaz knows so you should always have it on you.”

  Caspian folded the kite and put everything back into the bag. He’d got such a buzz from jumping into the air with the kite. For a couple of seconds, he’d been weightless, able to fly and all he’d been able to think about was doing it again, going higher and higher. He’d need a bigger kite.

  Then when he’d climbed the cliff, something had woken inside him, some memory of what he used to be like. The higher he climbed, the greater the adrenaline rush, the more focused he became on getting the kite. There had a been a few stomach-in-the-mouth moments, but he’d done it!

  Back on the beach, his sense of pride and satisfaction had been wrecked by Zed’s reaction. All the fun he’d had that morning had gone leaving him sliding down into a dark place. He trudged up the path and put the kite back in the garage. Zed was in the kitchen holding a mug of coffee and he still looked furious. Which made Caspian angry not apologetic.

  “I can climb. I wasn’t in any danger,” he snapped.

  “Oh, there were climbing walls in prison, were there? You’ve been practising for the last five years? You didn’t need to scale that rock. You don’t have anything to prove.”

  “I wanted to jump with the kite. I wanted to climb. You can’t wrap me in cotton wool. I want to be like I was. I can be like that, but I don’t need your disapproving face fixed on me every time I try to have some fun.”

  Zed slammed his coffee down so hard that liquid sloshed over the brim. “Do you have any idea what it was like to see you freeclimbing up a sheer rock face thinking that you could fall at any second and I’d be able to do nothing to save you?”

  “I wasn’t going to fall.”

  “You nearly did a couple of times,” Zed yelled. “You selfish fucker. You didn’t think about me at all, did you? I fucking told you this morning that I loved you. The first time I’ve said it and you made a joke about it and then you try and fucking kill yourself.”

  Caspian’s belligerence vanished. He wasn’t tackling the love comment. “I didn’t try to kill myself,” he whispered.

  “Really? What are you going to do next? Base jumping? Canyoning? Russian roulette?”

  “I l—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me you love me.
Don’t you fucking dare. Just fuck off and leave me alone.”

  Caspian walked out of the cottage and kept walking. Not down to the beach but along the cliff top. His heart was pounding even before he started to run. He’d been enjoying himself. Zed had no idea what it had been like to spend five years locked up. The chance to do something exciting, exhilarating had been too much to resist. I am fucking alive! Why didn’t Zed understand?

  The run turned into a sprint, Caspian trying to outrun some truth he didn’t want to hear, a concern he didn’t want to contemplate. He didn’t want to be pinned down, held down, made to conform. He wanted to fly. But when he stumbled on a rock and fell, he stayed down, rolled onto his back on the grass. His chest heaved as he fought to drag air into his lungs. He wasn’t sure he could get up even if he’d wanted to.

  The panic attack rolled over him like a rogue wave, crushing, suffocating. It was as if someone had wrapped their hands around his throat and he couldn’t even lift his arms to pull them off. His body was tingling. It was a cool day and he was burning up. He knew he was hyperventilating but he couldn’t control his breathing.

  Caspian kept trying to reassure himself he was okay, that he’d been through this before and survived. Fuck, he’d survived prison, he could deal with this. Panicking over nothing was just his brain playing tricks. But the tricks continued to the point that he wondered if he really was dying, that this time, it actually was a heart attack because it hurt so much. He was on his own. Zed had sent him away. No one knew where he was. He wasn’t on a path. He lay only a few yards from the edge of a cliff. If he rolled, he’d go over the edge, but in a twist of fate, he was safe from that because he couldn’t fucking move.

  The fear eventually began to subside, and his breathing eased, the noisy gasps quietening. Was it minutes, hours? He had no idea. But thinking once again became possible. His body slipped back under his control and he pushed himself to a sitting position. Exhaustion and dizziness swamped him. He patted his pockets but he’d not got his phone. Oh yeah, he hadn’t taken it to the beach that morning. But who did he have to call? Zed was angry, and Caspian was still pissed off with him. Getting to his feet was a step too far. He lay down again, curled up and fell asleep.

  He woke shivering with cold. Dark clouds skittered overhead obscuring the sun. That one looked like a dragon. Caspian gave a heavy sigh as he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered back to the cottage still feeling tired to the bone. There was no car outside so Jonas and Henry weren’t home. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to talk to Zed. His head throbbed. As he approached the door, Henry pulled into the drive. Coward that he was, Caspian waited so he could go in behind them. Jonas was chattering about what a great day they’d had, spotting minke whales and a basking shark.

  Caspian slipped past them to the bedroom, tossed his clothes on the floor and slid into bed. He knew he ought to talk to Zed but he was too tired.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Zed heard the car on the drive and wondered how he was going to explain Caspian’s absence to Jonas and Henry.

  Jonas was first into the living room. “What happened while we were gone?”

  “Why?”

  “Caspian followed us in and slunk to the bedroom looking as if he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other,” Henry said.

  “And you’re too pale.” Jonas pushed Zed’s feet off the couch and sat down.

  “I had a text,” Zed said, relieved Caspian was back and that he could put off talking about him for a while.

  “What text?” Henry said.

  Zed told them and what Jackson had said to do.

  “Have you had a response?” Henry asked.

  “No.”

  Henry put the kettle on. “What are your instincts telling you?”

  “That it’s from Fahid. He knows I betrayed him and he’s coming to get me.”

  Jonas put his arm around him. “Oh Zed. We won’t let that happen.”

  Henry sat on the arm of the chair. “Anything to support that?”

  “Only that he’s gone to the trouble of uncovering my phone number.”

  “But to hear nothing until now… Why wait so long?” Henry pinned him with his gaze.

  “Until my father died, and I called Tamaz and started to have to give my address out—obviously not our address—maybe he hadn’t been able to trace me.”

  “You need to lie low,” Jonas said. “Maybe rethink the band and Glastonbury.”

  Zed groaned. “I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

  “You’d be a sitting—standing target,” Jonas said. “Up there on that stage.”

  “The security will be tight and it’s been stepped up this year,” Henry said. “Every person, vehicle and bag will be searched.”

  “Even so…” Jonas muttered.

  Zed picked at the edge of the couch. “I think maybe Jackson likes the idea of luring Fahid and or my brother back.”

  Henry hmphed. “You do what keeps you safe, not necessarily what Jackson wants.”

  “I’m not worried about Glastonbury. I want to play there. It’s the chance of a lifetime.”

  “Have you thought further than that?” Henry asked. “About the effect on Caspian of you continuing with the band? He can’t follow you around when you’re touring, not even in this country. Five more years under licence. I can’t find a way around that.”

  “I don’t think he wants to follow me anywhere,” Zed mumbled.

  “What else happened while we were gone?” Jonas asked.

  “We took those kite bags down to the beach, but they turned out to be power kites. I left mine in the bag. Caspian let himself get lifted into the air. A lot. And high. It freaked me out, though not as much as when the kite got caught on the cliff and he climbed up to get it. He freeclimbed about thirty feet and he almost fell and…” Zed shuddered.

  Jonas squeezed his shoulders. “And?”

  “I yelled at him. Told him he was being selfish. Asked if he wanted to kill himself.” He tried to swallow away the lump in his throat. “He said no. I told him to fuck off and he did. He’s been gone for hours.”

  “You didn’t go and look for him?” Jonas asked.

  “Yes, but I couldn’t find him. I walked all the way along the beach, did the cliff top walk. This morning I told him… I told him I loved him and now it’s all spoiled.”

  Jonas hugged him, then held him by his shoulders and looked him straight in the face. “You should have stopped him leaving. Talked to him. Showed him you were worried. Explained.”

  “He’s not well, Zed,” Henry said. “He’s spent the last five years doing everything he could to merely survive, pretending he doesn’t care, following the rules day after day, constantly watching his back. Prison crushes confidence, diminishes self-worth. How many guys like him do you think were in that Young Offender Institution? The moment he opened his mouth, he’d get picked on. I’d guess in all the time he was inside, he never met anyone who was remotely like him.”

  “He hasn’t talked much about it.” Zed sighed.

  “But you can imagine,” Henry said. “Think what it must be like to have no space to call your own, no choice of who to be with or what to eat. Unable to trust anyone. Kindness is rarely encountered. You couldn’t have faith in it even if you came across it because everyone is doing the same as you. Doing whatever they can to survive. Even worse for Caspian, he didn’t do what he’d been found guilty of. Those who’ve been to prison emerge as harder individuals. Different.” Henry paused. “Have you asked Caspian to tell you about it?”

  Zed shook his head. “I didn’t want to upset him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, but you should ask him. He’s struggling. Everything he did to keep himself controlled and balanced has gone now he’s been released. The panic attacks he’s been having show how badly he’s been affected. He might need to speak to someone to help him get his head straight. Counselling might work. In the meantime, don’t expect
too much. Let him find his feet.”

  “Let him climb a cliff and risk falling?” Zed didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  Henry shrugged. “You want to wrap him up and stop him getting hurt? You can’t.”

  Zed jumped to his feet. “I thought I was going to lose him when I watched him scrambling up that rockface. You saw what he was like when we were surfing. Manic. He wanted to keep going and going. He wanted to surf today but at least I managed to talk him out of that.”

  “Well that shows he does listen to you,” Jonas said.

  “But he’s frightening me. I don’t know what he’s going to throw himself at next.”

  “Be there for him. That’s the advice I’d give.” Henry glanced at Jonas. “He needs someone on his side, someone to rein him in at times. Ten years ago, I was held in the cellar of a house in Afghanistan for three months. I still have flashbacks. Jonas is my rock. Be Caspian’s rock.”

  Zed chewed his lip and nodded. Jonas stood and pulled Henry into his arms and kissed him.

  “And if he tries to do something stupid again,” Henry said, “you tell him you’ll do it first. He won’t let you, hopefully, but maybe that way you’ll make him understand.”

  Jonas rolled his eyes. “This is where Henry’s advice gets a bit shaky. He wanted to go ice swimming. I didn’t want to and I didn’t want him to. So I said if he did it, I’d do it too. He knows I have a phobia about getting stuck under the ice, but he stood back and said fine, you go first. I thought I’d be so freaked out, he’d not want to do it. But after I was hauled out, unable to even speak because my tongue was frozen, he checked I was breathing and fucking jumped in. The complete bastard.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. “Your tongue wasn’t frozen.”

  “It nearly was.”

  Henry smiled and turned to Zed. “An hour before dinner. Caspian needs to eat. Try to persuade him.”

  Caspian was asleep when Zed went into the bedroom. His clothes were strewn on the floor. Zed stripped and pulled back the covers to climb in behind him. He wrapped his arms around Caspian and pulled him to his chest. Caspian was still wearing boxers, Zed wasn’t. His cock hardened. He doubted that would ever change when he was in bed with Caspian. He was incapable of not wanting him.