A Breath of Innocence

by K. A. Merikan

  “Oh, so I’m a jazz bar kind of guy?” Mark casually stroked Griff’s knee, sending sparks all the way up his leg. Griff didn’t even notice when he spread his legs a little before it happened. “And I’ve got to invent a job.”

  Griffith exhaled, feeling ashamed for himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but they kept asking all those questions, and... they can be so strict. I didn’t want them to somehow find out that we’re...” Griffith’s mouth went dry. They were what? Dating? He was back to the same worries that plagued him before Mark had come over.

  “Engaged?” Mark asked, but then laughed, making it all the more confusing.

  Griffith laughed too, albeit screaming on the inside. “Oh yes, they would start planning our wedding without asking for our preferences. And invite a hundred people even I don’t know.”

  “I mean, someone’s gotta plan it, and I’m not really a master of events. Summer wedding on the beach?”

  Griffith swallowed, not sure if he wanted to continue this joke. He didn’t want to be a spoilsport, but he couldn’t handle having his heart toyed with either. “But seriously, they can’t know that we... you know.” Griffith wanted to punch himself the moment he said that, because even he didn’t know what it was he and Mark were doing.

  He hated seeing Mark’s lips make twist. “Got it.”

  “It’s nothing personal. It’s just that they have no idea about me, and my mum actually warned me about not getting Nisha pregnant, which was the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve had in my entire life. It’s not about you being you, but about you being a guy,” Griffith said and squeezed his hand on Mark’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay. You do things at your own pace. It was kinda weird for me, because my dads thought I was gay, so it blindsided them when they found out I was seeing a girl for the first time. Domenico was a total dick about it.”

  Griffith never heard of such a thing. “Oh. Are they okay with it now?” he asked, gravitating closer and touching Mark’s thigh as they drove onto an estacade to cross the river.

  “Yeah, he got over himself. But he did sound pleased that I’ve got my eye on a guy now.”

  Griffith’s heart thumped so powerfully he leaned back against the seat. “I know the proposal was a joke and everything, but... um... where do we stand?” he asked in the end, feeling like the most awkward person who ever asked about their relationship status.

  Mark took his time answering by pretending to be focused on a particularly complicated roundabout. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  What a cop out. Griffith wished they could stay on the roundabout forever, in a loop where he didn’t have to answer.

  “I’m not sure I know what the options are.” There. He too could push the weight of the question back at the other person.

  Mark took a deep breath. “I guess we’re dating. Is that okay?”

  Griffith rubbed his knees nervously, somewhat less blocked now that this possibility was on the table. “Are you dating only me, or are there others?”

  “Between the brunches, school, and nights in, do I seem to have time for anyone else?”

  Griffith exhaled, suddenly frightened that Mark would be tired of him before they even reached his parents’ home. “I know plenty of people do that, and I just need to know.”

  Mark didn’t answer for a while, which was beyond distressing, but when he stopped at a red light, he looked into Griff’s eyes with intensity that pinned Griffith to the seat. “You’re the only one I’m seeing, okay?” He leaned in for a kiss.

  Griffith might have melted a little bit.

  Chapter 15 - Griffith

  Griffith’s parents lived in the beautiful countryside less than two hours away from Bristol by car. They entered the loveliest and most serene of little historic towns, of the kind that had elaborate decorations in the main street, expensive boutiques, and wine bars full of people in the middle of the day. Griff’s parents often had lunch at one of the contemporary restaurants in the center. They soon left the town behind and, following Griffith’s directions, Mark drove into a smaller asphalt road that lead first between fields, and then into woodland.

  Griff was glad when he saw the long fence surrounding his parents’ property, and he asked Mark to slow down just before the road curve, because the driveway started just beyond it. Next to him, Mark made a little gasp when the imposing two-story building made of gray stone emerged from between the trees. Two circular towers built in the severe romanesque revival style stood on either side of an open gate, but Griffith’s uncle must have left the Christmas tree on, because he spotted colorful lights in one of the windows.

  Mark’s mouth quirked into a smile when he slowly drove under the arched entrance. “What an unusual home! Is it medieval?”

  “It’s actually Victorian. There was a fashion for this kind of architecture at the time. We used to rent out this gatehouse, but my uncle and his wife are going through a rough patch right now, so my parents let them move in.”

  Mark tapped the steering wheel, looking at the small garden adjacent to one of the towers, where uncle Stephen and aunt Aurelie cultivated flowers, herbs, fruit, and some vegetables.

  “Oh. Are they at the party then?” Mark asked, following a narrow asphalt road between the trees that would lead them to Griff’s family home.

  “No, they always spend Christmas in Fiji.”

  Mark briefly glanced his way. “Wait what? You said they were struggling.”

  Griffith shrugged. “You have to treat yourself every now and then. They’re only staying there for two weeks.”

  Mark was too busy taking in the parkland to continue the conversation as they drove along the driveway that would be particularly spectacular in the spring, when bluebells sprouted between the trees and covered the ground with a two-tone carpet. Griffith hoped he would get to show that to Mark in a few months.

  When the house finally emerged into view, bathed by the cool winter sunshine, the white of its walls was in stark contrast to the dark color of its timber frame. Griffith had never been away from here for so long before, and even though he didn’t really miss his former home, the sight of the intricate patterns of the framework caused a sense of nostalgia rather than longing. After several months in a city, he saw what looked more like a set for the newest live-action Disney fairy tale rather than a home.

  “This is their house?” Mark asked. “Are you a secret duke or something?”

  Griffith looked his way, surprised by the blunt question. “Oh... no, of course not. My family are descendants of wealthy merchants.” He leaned forward and pointed out a side road that led past a patch of trees. “You can’t park at the house, since the bridge is not vehicle-safe. Drive over there.”

  Mark frowned, still staring toward the house but followed the directions. “Is that an actual freaking moat?”

  Griffith rubbed his chin. “Another Victorian addition.”

  Mark went weirdly quiet as they parked. The unassuming, small Ford looked out of place in a row of BMWs, Bentleys, and Land Rovers. At the end of the line was even their neighbor’s beautifully restored 1930s Rolls Royce. With the sun slowly setting, Griff was sure Mother would soon turn on the lights adorning the trees growing on either side of the footbridge leading across the moat. The family tended to use the smaller entrance in the back, since the woodwork of the main door was centuries old, but on occasions like this one, or fundraisers, his parents liked to impress their guests.

  Griffith cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Mark’s unexplained silence. “What’s going on?”

  “Is this the kind of party where everyone knows everyone?”

  Griffith shrugged and looked past the rows of trees, at the bright lights inside the house before marching along a paved walkway leading to their destination. “I don’t like that either. But it’s gonna be much more casual tomorrow, I promise.”

  Mark nodded, but as they approached the bridge, Griffith heard rather than saw him slow down. He put down his
luggage and glanced over his shoulder, to see Mark standing still, with a travel bag in one hand and the large box in the other, his face so serious he seemed several years older than he was. He met Griff’s gaze.

  “Why did you ask me to come?”

  Griffith stiffened and briefly looked toward the large windows in the ground floor, where he could already see shadows moving in warm lamplight. “What do you mean? You were staying here for the holidays, all alone. And I...” He licked his lips, feeling an invisible weight settle on his chest. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

  Mark took a deep breath. “Okay. I just wish I could hold your hand. I don’t like being judged.”

  Griffith chuckled, even though Mark’s words touched something deep inside him. “You’d have to never leave your flat. Everyone is watching and judging. Always.”

  Mark snorted. “Oh wow, now you’re making me feel so much better.”

  Griffith looked around, but seeing no one outside, he briefly rubbed Mark’s palm with his fingers. “Just keep close to me and never stop looking handsome. You’ll be fine.”

  Griffith didn’t care to ring the doorbell and walked straight in with Mark following, and his shadowy presence gave Griff a little shiver of excitement. If only he could tell everyone that this gorgeous man was in fact his.

  The scent of apple and cinnamon hit them as soon as they walked into the low-ceilinged corridor, and Griff was glad for the warmth because his fingers had gotten cold during the walk from the car. He handed his coat and luggage to a member of staff hired for the event, but when she approached Mark, he hesitated with the wrapped box.

  “But it’s… I mean, it’s a gift for Griffith.”

  The hostess smiled. “Would you like me to place it in his room or under the tree?”

  Griffith had suspected as much, but having certainty still made him smile. “All of mine are in the suitcase. I haven’t forgotten you either.”

  “In my room, please,” Mark said in the end. Griff had never seen him out of his depth before, so he tapped his arm, eager to pull his boyfriend—ha, boyfriend!—out of this miasma.

  “I hope you like punch. It’s the only thing my mother always insists on making herself.”

  “A drink would be nice, thanks. We’re not late, are we?” Mark took a deep breath and followed Griffith toward the great hall where the party was in full swing, with holiday classics accompanying the rustle of conversation.

  Griffith looked at Mark, tempted to adjust his lapels, just to have an excuse to touch him, but in the end he led the way through a studio that served as a de-facto antechamber for the large function room. Two stories high and with garlands of pine, poinsettias, and ribbons hung between the beams of dark wood to create a cozier atmosphere, the hall still retained many of its original features.

  The huge fireplace was buzzing behind a glass screen, and stone floors, which have been covered with thick carpeting for the occasion, emerged where guests were least likely to walk. Old weaponry and a few framed portraits hung on the white walls, but apart from a couple of antiques, most of the furniture was not only contemporary but also had that distinct modern designer look Griffith’s mother favored.

  The soft sounds of music came from one of the corners where a pianist and three other musicians performed for guests. Most of the men wore suits with tiny splashes of color here and there, a Santa hat, or a sparkly tie, but Griff’s cousin Tommy stood out as usual in his reindeer onesie and fabric antlers on his head. The guy didn’t know what a dress code was and had no idea how to have a conversation either. Griff could only hope he and Mark wouldn’t be approached by the clown.

  Women on the other hand were a whole rainbow of sequins, sparkle, and glitter. Older, younger, they were all dressed to the nines, each outfit screaming ‘festive’. But there was one dress in particular that caught Griffith’s eye. It stormed through the room, and its angry red glitter was like sparks about to ignite everything around them.

  Charlotte didn’t even care to greet him and instantly pulled on Griffith’s elbow. “I see you’ve brought a guest with you.” She gave Mark a tight-lipped smile. “A word, Griff?”

  Griffith made a point of not budging straight away and glanced at Mark first. “I’ll be right back. Please, help yourself to some punch in the meanwhile,” he said with a roll of eyes.

  Mark sighed and put his hands into his pockets. “A Merry Christmas to you too, Charlotte.”

  Her sneer was so vicious Griffith could hardly believe she was being so rude in public, but he’d seen her scream at Mark with his own eyes, so maybe he shouldn’t be all that surprised. If he didn’t take control of the situation, the party could turn ugly fast, so he ended up following her even when the grip on his wrist tightened beyond it being reasonable. Charlotte only let go when they entered Father’s study, closing the door behind them.

  Griffith shook off the unpleasant pressure. “Why are you being so rude? It’s not like you at all.”

  The heavy wooden furniture seemed to add gravity to the conversation Charlotte wanted to have. “I’m rude? You’re the one bringing that snake into our family home. A guy I specifically told you to stay away from.”

  Griffith crossed his arms on his chest, his skin itching as if he were about to grow thorns. “I’m an adult. You can’t just tell me to avoid people. I don’t remember policing your friends.”

  “Because there is no need to. Why is he here? Is he… blackmailing you?” She squinted at him as if she could somehow read Griff’s mind this way.

  “Blackmailing me? Do you even hear yourself? Have you watched too many spy movies recently?” Griffith asked, completely baffled. Charlotte’s reactions to Mark were always so blown out of proportion. She should get over herself.

  Charlotte raised her arms. “You’re so dumb sometimes, you know that? You think you know him so well? You’re besties now?”

  Griffith frowned but stood his ground. “Yes, we are. We are very good friends. He helps me out a great deal, and he’s easier to talk to than most other people. And for your information, Nisha likes him too. It’s just you who has this unhealthy obsession with his past relationship with Morwen. Well, it’s been a while, and people change!”

  Charlotte tried to tap on his forehead, but Griff was quick to back away. “That’s exactly what people like him do. They get you to open up and make you feel like you’ve bonded.”

  Griffith rubbed his face in frustration. He was so done with this. Nobody had the right to talk this way about his boyfriend. “I have been his neighbor for three months now, and we meet daily. What makes you think you know him better? You haven’t said anything new, nothing that could change my mind about this. So how about you keep to your friends and leave me and Mark be?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Whatever, Griff. But I don’t want to have anything to do with him, so next time you wanna ruin my party, at least give me a heads-up.”

  She stormed out of the room, bumping into his shoulder on purpose. He spun around, shocked by the uncalled-for aggression.

  “Your party? This is not your party. It’s for everyone here, so take your head out of your arse!” he said, following her.

  She waved him off, but as Griff followed her through the function room, looking for Mark, he didn’t expect her to suddenly stand still and walked right into her. He only needed a second to figure out the approaching disaster.

  Mark sat on a low bench in the small room adjacent to the hall where children under ten had their own little party. Later on, there would be Santa Claus coming to entertain them, but for now, they had Mark, who had somehow focused his attention on Griffith’s baby brother, out of all the children present. Allen gave a bright laugh and packed his index finger into his mouth, watching Mark with a mischievous smile. Some of the other boys and girls gravitated closer, drawn in by the charisma radiating off this perfectly handsome adult. Unaware of being under scrutiny, Mark tapped Allen’s nose, making the little boy laugh and shake the mop of brown curls on hi
s head.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Charlotte whispered and resumed her walk of an icebreaker.

  Griffith didn’t even have time for his heart to melt over how good Mark was with kids, and chased her so that she wouldn’t cause too much of a scene.

  “Charlotte, what’s gotten into you? Do you want to spoil the party for everyone?” he whispered as soon as he maneuvered around one of their neighbors and followed his sister after offering the confused guest the briefest of polite nods.

  “I don’t care,” she growled right back at him and opened the little white gate dividing the adults from the children. She pulled Allen up into her arms as soon as he was within reach. “I think it’s getting close to your bedtime,” she said before sharing a quick word with the childminder.

  Mark looked up at Griffith with his lips slightly parted. “Is this the brother you told me about?”

  Griffith offered Mark his hand and pulled him up, once again embarrassed over Charlotte’s behavior. He needed to show him that he could have a good time here despite her hostility. “Yes, that’s our little brother. I’m not very good with kids, but isn’t he adorable?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Charlotte had run off as if Mark intended to roast Allen over an open fire.

  “Very cute. You said the biological mother was… a cousin?”

  Griffith swallowed.

  No. Not a cousin. Charlotte was the mother, and that was why she’d snatched poor Allen away. But he’d gotten so used to lying about his ‘little brother’ that he didn’t even blink.

  “That’s right.”

  “Is she here?” Mark rose, looking around, and there was something different about him. He stood straight, and his gaze was focused as if he were hunting.

  “No. Why?” Griffith lied again and took hold of a little hand that grabbed his.

  “I was just wondering if you stay in touch with the mom. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled and buttoned up his suit jacket. “Will you introduce me?”