by Claire Davis
Talk. If only he could. Warmth oozed down Oskar’s back, pushing away the cold reality of Mum and the flat.
Bear’s hand squeezed. “What’s going on?” As he leaned forward, the shirt opened further.
“Well,” Oskar choked. After all, he could always get the train later or even tomorrow. It wouldn’t hurt—much—to stay another day or two. “Oh, you’re too busy to hear my crap,” he uttered bravely.
Back at home in the real world, he had shunned attention of the talking kind. School threw them his way over the years—earnest counsellors, school mentors, the dreaded social workers and even once a woman with chickens trained to offer love. He despised them all. Offers of confidentiality and trust made him vicious and spiteful because he knew it was all crap.
“It would be selfish of me to take up your time. Just go on without me.”
Bear’s eyes went Care Bear. For a fleeting second, Oskar imagined those eyes looking down from a filthy position on top which was probably not even anatomically possible.
“Is it your dad?” Bear’s hand carried on squeezing. After a short but excruciating heart volcano, Oskar nodded mutely. The truth of the statement was too much. A tear dribbled out. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew he was going too far. Had to stop. It was too enjoyable to stop. Enjoyable and necessary. Warm shivers went up and down his body, the same as when he got the exam results. Everyone deserved affirmation.
The flat back at home where they used to eat dinner, and listen to music would be quiet now, empty.
“Yeah,” he said brokenly. “It always comes back to my dad. To M—Simon.” A sob broke through. It was twisted and wrong but he didn’t care. Oskar needed this so badly. He fell into Bear’s arms and a swampy fog of deodorant, cheap spray, and arousal.
“It’s OK.” Bear stroked his hair clumsily, but Oskar didn’t mind the pawing. He wished the girls would vanish, but instead, they began sidling closer, touching him and Bear. “This is what we’re going to do. Go to lectures like always and then find the local police station.” Oskar went cold. “Tell them about the guy. They’ll know what to do.”
“No!” Oskar pulled back sharply. “I can’t risk Dad’s life like that.” He imagined the horror of police explaining to Pink and Bear about the DSS and how much rent Oskar and Mum owed on the flat. Such talk would inevitably lead to disclosure about drugs, and Aunty Kath—the whole story of his pitiful life.
“But what else can you do? If you pack up here, he’ll just follow you wherever you go.”
“That’s true. You have to listen to him.” Pink-and-White and the others nodded.
The warm arms of care began to fade. Bear sat back on his heels. Oskar retreated to the only escape. “Well. It’s possible I imagined it. I am rather…inclined to overthink things.”
“I’m sure you’re right to drop out. You’re not the kind of person for college,” Stella-Artois said flatly. “I’ll call you a taxi to the station.” The room went quiet. “And you’re right. No need to put us all in danger.” She crossed her arms then uncrossed them and stuck out bony shoulders like a soldier preparing for war. And Oskar was ready. He’d been ready for nineteen years.
“I suppose you’re right,” he said looking at Stella-Artois ruefully. “Paula. You’re right. I’m coming with you.” The cheer that went up was his battle cry. “Just gimme ten minutes to get ready.”
“Take as long as you want.” Bear patted his knee. His nose began moving in clockwise circles, hypnotic and arousing. “Do the zigzag? Do it for me.”
****
Zigzags seemed over the top. Trips into college were important. Do it for Bear. Assumptions ought not to be made. Students—even ones who might not be there very long—ought not to risk persecution or unnecessary attention. He deserved this. Bear deserved this! “Won’t be long,” he called to the chatting throng outside his room. “Two minutes, max. Press play on my tab.”
“You’re really good at that stuff. Are you sure you shouldn’t be doing drama?” Bear watched with chin on one hand.
“No! Do I look like a drama student? All that posturing and up your own arse?” Oskar demanded, ignoring Bear’s laugh which quickly turned into a cough. Gradually, the outline of a butterfly began to take shape across his cheek. “You think I should incorporate it into my eye?” Having another boy watch his art was exciting in all sorts of ways.
“Um. No. Maybe?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Blue and pink it is. Wicked. Simple Minds would like that.” He went for a pastel effect, sweeping the colour in subtle lines rather than heavy blocks. “Wonder what the other physics students will be like. No-one spoke to me yet. Actually, they act like they’re scared of me.” Posh arseholes and petty bastards, he supposed, same as always. It had taken all of five minutes at the local college before jeering and insults began. Not that he cared; in fact, he welcomed it with open arms and a bitter heart.
“Oh, they’re probably all nice. No-one’s spoken to me yet in my faculty, either. Guess it takes time. Right?”
“Nice, my arse! Where did you grow up—Beatrix Potter School of Cute Mice?” He finished the final touches with a flourish. “There. I’ve kept it simple.” One cheek was covered by a butterfly flapping its wings. “You can only see it if you catch me from the left side.”
“It’s beautiful. You could do that professionally. Just beautiful.” Bear’s voice went footsteps on gravel. “You’re beautiful. Like this? Have you heard this Shakespeare thing? I think it’s a sonnet? O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!”
After a minute of annihilation, Oskar carried on living. “Not in the field of physics, I couldn’t. Hair up or down?”
“Up. Or down. Either looks good. Everything looks good on you.” The red creeping up Bear’s face was cute. “I wish it was just classes. I had to go to a zoology socialising event yesterday, and another one in the week.”
“Yeah. It’s for socialising. Making friends?”
Bear shook his head. “Socialising? But we’re here to work.” He fidgeted. “Would you come with me?”
“It’s for all the kiddies straight out of Mummy and Daddy’s pockets? Not everyone is as tough as me and you.” Oskar snorted attractively, though it petered out into a pig-sounding grunt. He had to work on that. “Tossers.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a little hard on people.”
It stung. A long time ago, someone else said those very words, and Oskar used to lap them up and agree. He hid by bending over to pick up his jacket. It only took a few seconds but long enough for a rocket-sized door to slam that memory back into the past. Yup, Bear would need a lot of training. “I do mind.” He zipped up the grey furry jacket with a little too much energy. The zip complained. “Actually.”
“Sorry. I know you’ve had a difficult childhood. It’s just sometimes—you have to give people a chance. You know?” Bear smiled nervously, but Oskar was years past forgiveness, trust or broccoli. That horse was long bolted and now he was an empty—but gorgeous—shell.
“No, I don’t know. You give them a chance; they break your arm and rip out your heart. Not for me, thank you very much. Come on. Let’s get going. And no, I shall not be accompanying you to a zoology orgy.” Oskar frostily shoved Bear out the door.
The girls did a collective, “Ooh,” as he entered the perfumey gang. Bear quickly disappeared, pushed to the back.
“Is that a butterfly, Oskar?”
“So cute!”
“Amazing!”
“Nothing special!” he told them briskly. Acidic memories of his earlier breakdown still reared their ugly heads along with flash images of the flat and Mum. He needed to forget, for today, at least.
“Is that suitable clothing for college?” Stella-Artois asked snottily. “I’ve heard there are many steps up to the old part. However will you manage in those heels?”
Jealous bitch.
“You can carry me, Stella. You’ve got the sh
oulders for it.”
“We have to catch a bus? Maybe we should’ve bought the tickets online,” one of them lamented, making Oskar laugh. “I didn’t think we would be as far away from the college as this.” They chattered towards the bus stop, surrounding him like birds at the seaside. So it was he almost missed the man lurking behind a van near the entrance to the hospital. From the corner of one eye, Oskar observed.
The man held back, walking swiftly from car to car in a manner that would not catch anyone’s attention. Anyone except a trained professional such as Oskar. The guy was clearly a professional too, which meant DSS or police. Oskar stopped walking suddenly and pretended to search in his bag. The man was not looking towards him, but at Bear, who was at least five steps back, stroking a cat.
“Come on, Bear,” Oskar said. “Keep up. Leave that cat alone.” He took the startled adventurer’s arm and marched him towards the bus stop, not really sure of what he’d observed. “See him again?” he whispered harshly. “Behind?” Bear turned round immediately, but by then, the man had vanished. “Not like that! Do it so he can’t tell we’ve spotted him.”
“Shall I go and talk to him? Ask what he wants?”
Oskar imagined the man telling Bear about Mum and the flat, all the awfulness of the last few years. “No!” he almost shouted. “Bus!” Thank god it appeared and the man was forgotten in a rush of pushing and finding the best seats upstairs. As it pulled away, Oskar watched. The man stood a short distance from the bus, half hidden behind a white van. He held up a phone and, as the bus drove off, seemed to be taking pictures. “You know, I think you’re right. That guy wasn’t following us at all,” he told Bear companionably. No need for Bear to be poking around asking questions.
“Yeah? He didn’t really look like the spy kind.” Bear’s shoulders were pushed against Oskar. Normally, he didn’t like anyone too close, but for now it was tolerated. “I will challenge him if you want. I’m sick of people like him.”
“No,” Oskar said firmly. “Definitely not.”
“Whatever you say. How do you feel now about staying? You had me worried earlier.”
How he felt was not something open for discussion, now or ever. The F-word was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford for a long time—so long he wasn’t even sure the ‘F’ of his brain worked properly anymore. “Oh, you know. Grin and bear, Bear.” He nudged the stocky figure, who peered back. “Bear.”
“Well, just remember I’m here if you need me. And Bear isn’t my name.”
“Yeah, about that. Are you any good with shelves? There’s nowhere in my cell to put books, but I saw some wood and stuff in that room by the entrance.”
“The caretaker’s room? Yes, I can do that, but we should ask. They don’t seem very keen on us putting anything on the walls.”
“I already asked. They said yes,” Oskar lied. The unsettling memory of the flat and the lurking DSS bloke faded, bricked in against all the other crap he didn’t want to think about. It was nice, getting the bus like normal people, going to college with Bear and the others. “Tell me about compasses.”
“Really? Well…”
Bear droned on. His soft voice occasionally got under Oskar’s clothes. Every so often, he recognised key words, like navigation and orientation, but mostly allowed himself to drift off, lulled by the rolling of the wheels and the close proximity of the other boy. He hadn’t slept much again last night, torn between staying or going back home. There wasn’t a choice, not really; yet here he was, coming into Bangor town again. He ripped himself away again. “What do you think of Stella-Artois?”
“Stella? She seems nice enough, but I haven’t seen as much of the others as you have. Not such a girl magnet.” Bear nudged Oskar’s side.
“You’re joking? They all think you’re hot.” It was true. Earlier on, Oskar overheard Pink-and-White and Carol HS discussing Bear’s attributes, of which there were indeed many. “Stella hates me, but I’m used to it. People can be very jealous.” He narrowed his eyes. Couldn’t they ever? Bear made comforting noises of the kind Oskar would never get enough of. “I have learnt to be aloof.”
“I’ve noticed that. You seem to be very confident and open, but your eyes hide secrets. I understand, though. You have to put on an act to protect yourself.” Oskar choked a little. “Don’t let anyone in because you can’t trust—keep them away with wit—always one step ahead. But underneath is a person in pain.” Bear met Oskar’s startled face, holding his eyes for a while.
“Jeez, Bear! There’s not much gets past you and your eagle eyes,” Oskar joked, willing to admit he might’ve underestimated the piss-swilling explorer. “You’re a regular mind reader.” More than Bear could ever know. He looked away out the window to catch his breath and get away from the searching brown eyes. “So you like Shakespeare?”
Bear grinned. “Yeah. I get it from my experience in the field. Tracking lions has made me an expert in animal and human behaviour.” He nudged again and laughed, but Oskar was still in control so, after a few seconds of dealing with the shock that there was potentially a lot more to Bear than met the eye, he laughed back. Guarded and brittle, but he laughed.
“Bodacious.” Still in control. Still got it, man. “What night is that zoology rave?”
“It’s not a rave!” Bear laughed. “Thursday.”
“OK. I’ll come with you to the gang bang. If it will help you find your feet?”
“You will? I’d really like that.” Gratifyingly, Bear’s nose began revolving. “And yeah, I adore Shakespeare. I mean, if you do?”
****
The old part of the uni was beautiful as a castle from Robin Hood times. They trailed through the stone corridors then out onto a walk that went all the way around the walls. When Oskar was little, he’d had a fascination with old buildings, often drawing maps of old churches and houses dating back two hundred years. Those days seemed much longer than two hundred years ago. He stopped and pretended to look across the valley, instead of hating and missing, deep inside.
“Wow,” Bear murmured. He’d rolled up his sleeves and was leaning over the railings to gaze at the spectacular view. Green hills and grounds led down to the sea a few miles below. “You see the birds? I didn’t think it’d be like this here. I wish my classes were out this way instead of the science block.”
“It’s shit.” Immediately Oskar felt better.
“It isn’t! It’s beautiful. I’m going to take some pictures to look at later.” Bear positioned himself away from the angle of the sun and snapped his phone a few times.
“You can email the pictures home to Mummy and Daddy,” Oskar said spitefully. “I’m off to the science library. See you later.”
“Wait! Can I—take your picture against the castle?”
Oskar considered. “Why?”
“No reason.” Bear shrugged. “Because you’re my friend.”
There he went again, with sweetness and naivety that made Oskar want to punch his lights out. He blinked rapidly, just to keep out the sun and memories of castles and being a stupid kid who thought things like that were cool. Fat lot he’d known! “Yeah, OK. If it ends up on YouTube, you’re dead.”
“Nah, it’s just for me. Stand back against the wall.”
Oskar, pliant friend, shoved himself backwards so hard it hurt, and put his arms above his head. “How do you want me?” It sounded suggestive, like a porny scene. It felt good. Although he’d had no opportunity to flirt before, Oskar had spent many hours—days—weeks—thinking about it.
“That’s perfect!”
Oskar opened his mouth and licked his lips, then blew a kiss. An actual kiss, with hand flourish and a sound like whooshing. The world stood still, but not for long enough.
“Thanks.” The irritating explorer blushed and looked away. “I won’t be emailing the pictures anywhere, though. They’re just for me.”
It took a minute to recover from the outrage—excitement—of blowing a kiss at a boy. Oskar hid his confusion by slithering a
way from the wall. “Whatever. Let’s get a coffee.” It was sad, really, the pleasure he got when Bear’s face went hurt Care Bear. Probably pleasure.
“OK,” Bear said after a moment where he pretended to look at the sea. They walked back into the castle to the café, Bear pointing out the many features of the ancient stone and layout. If Oskar had been a better person, instead of a bitter shit, he might’ve explained the history of such things. He stared sulkily ahead. “Even the café has an interesting position,” Bear’s soft tones faded away, but Oskar wasn’t cruel. He decided to be gracious.
“Hot chocolate, please.”
Bear scrambled up. “Great! Won’t be a sec.” He rushed over to the queue and waved back cheerfully. If he hadn’t smiled that way—like Oskar was the best person in the whole world, the kind of kid worth buying a hot chocolate for—maybe he would’ve waited.
But Oskar was all out of generosity and human good, so the instant Bear turned away, he slipped out the chair and fucked off to the science building alone. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. That itch at the back of his neck wasn’t guilt, because he was a hard-nosed bastard who didn’t give a fuck about anyone else, not anymore. He couldn’t afford to let anyone in, and that was the end.
****
Hospital radio again when he should have been working. Oskar knew better than anyone—except maybe Hitler and he was dead—that looking into the past was a waste of time. Coming to the disabled bog to use the decrepit radio system was lame and stupid.
Yet he locked the door gratefully and encouraged his shoulders to drop. “Good evening, everyone! This is Morris and Oskar, come to look in on you. How are you?” There used to be many listeners, calling in and asking questions—requests, true stories, dance hour, remembrance hour. Morris and Oskar mobile DJ and radio slots thrived, at first in the hospital then local newspaper and radio, and soon they were inundated by demands. It had been a good time—the best years of his childhood.
From behind a stack of chairs, Oskar dragged out an old flipchart stand. “It’s not as good as our board was, but it’s the best I can do,” he muttered, imagining Morris standing right there. “I’ve even brought pens. Red writing, picture of a microphone and a dancer.” From memory, he recreated the advertising board that haunted his dreams: