Oskar Blows a Gasket

by Claire Davis

  “No. No, I don’t mean the dress. Oh, look! Here’s Bubble!”

  “Dad! What did you do?” It was as Gareth peered out the window that he caught a glimpse of red, like a hat. He stared harder. “Is that…?” The figure began jumping up and down, with hair flying about. “Oskar?”

  He made to get to the door because something was terribly wrong, but then there was a crashing sound and shouting, and suddenly Oskar appeared. Jim was chasing behind shouting, “Hey! Just you get back here and calm down!”

  But the onslaught of Oskar did not cease. He shouted, “Fuck off,” then slammed right into Gareth with such force they both fell to the carpet.

  “What’s up? What happened?”

  Oskar stood in the middle of the room with hands on hips and verbally exploded. He shouted so loudly the words made no sense, except for the occasional curse. His outrage was accompanied by a great deal of arm waving and pointing at Dad, who was making soothing noises. Gareth could have warned him against doing that. When in full indignation mode, sympathy was not advisable and neither was staring in the face of the alpha male. Dad was very poor at understanding animal behaviour. “Please, sit down,” he kept saying. And then Jim joined in.

  “Bloody calm down!”

  Finally, Oskar stopped shouting and moved on to throwing withering looks, mainly at Dad. Jim, he completely ignored. Gareth stayed sitting on the floor because he had learned not to make any sudden movements during a hissy fit, as it could lead to further ranting. Dad battled on, ignoring Gareth’s slight shake of the head.

  “Sit down, honey. We can talk about it.”

  “Talk about it? What is there to say? You can take these back and shove them up your posh arse.” Oskar reached inside a pocket and brought out a parcel. “No-one treats my boyfriend like that! No-one. Get it?” He threw the package on the sofa. Dad nodded at Jim, who sidled past and began helping him up.

  “We’ll leave you to it,” Jim mumbled.

  “Just in the kitchen if you need us,” Dad mouthed.

  “And you, Lollipop? I have one shitty word to say to you—John.” Oskar flung himself down on the carpet in the shape of a starfish.

  Gareth watched Dad and Jim escape, noting Dad’s horrified face. And then he saw it, poking out the bottom of the package. It was a letter addressed to Dad, in Gareth’s spindly handwriting. “You see me on the floor with my arms and legs spread? This is me open and bleeding.” Oskar closed his eyes, a sure sign that the worst was over.

  Gareth sidled across on his butt, close enough to gently stroke the hair cast around Oskar like a shadow. “Bleeding? I hope not.” He waited a few moments, just to make sure. Oskar continued to do nothing, so he bent over and kissed him, just once.

  “Yes. Bleeding and hurt as one who has been cheated on. Cheated!” Oskar raised his face, so Gareth kissed him again. “Even if it was a cheating that occurred before we met.” He grabbed Gareth’s head suddenly and yanked him down until he lay right on top. “That John was a fucker.”

  Finally, he looked straight into Gareth’s eyes. He was pale, wearing no make-up, with a frown across his forehead. He looked worried, even afraid. “Total bloody fucker. And as for those snotty kids? Let me at them with my laxatives. I can only describe my anger as—” he paused and narrowed his eyes “—colourful. I have cried and I have shouted, and now you see me, devastated and ruined.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Lollipop!”

  “Oh, Oskar!” Gareth cradled him close. “You read my letters from school?”

  “Yeah. Your dad sent Jim. Said I had to read them to understand. Being the kid of someone famous is not all it’s cracked up to be, is it?” He started to say more, and then stopped. Tears slid down his face, which he hid in Gareth’s chest.

  “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed.” Gareth remembered the pee incident in the woods and stroked Oskar’s neck. “It was so long ago now. Just forget them? Everything’s OK now.” He should probably be upset that Dad had given the letters without asking. “Well, you know it all now. Everything about Bear. And—I’m not sorry you do.”

  He held Oskar’s head still and kissed him properly, pushing everything in, all the chaos of the last few weeks and all the needing. “Oskar,” he said. “It’s Oskar. That’s the only name I keep saying, and even when I’m asleep I dream it. There is no John. You know that. Right?” He forgot they were rolling on the floor of Dad’s living room with the two men next door in the kitchen. “Wrap your legs around me.” It was never possible to hold Oskar for long, he’d be rushing back to study or change the music, so rarely still for more than a few minutes. “John’s nothing. He didn’t even write. There is no name except Oskar.”

  “Yeah. I know. You wear it all on your sleeve. It’s something I really like about you but it terrifies me.”

  “Does this mean we’re dating?”

  “It means a lot of things. I have to…tell you something. And after I do—if you still want to—we’re dating. Yeah.” He sighed, like the weight of the world rested on his conscience.

  Gareth shifted to the side so they could get up because it was clear a serious conversation was about to commence.

  “No don’t get up! I can’t say it if you’re looking at me. Those letters fucking wrecked me, Lollipop. I am gonna teach you how to fight back and then we are going to go out with a bow and arrow and shoot all those nasty bastards. John! He is a major arsehole. I hate him so much one of my eardrums actually exploded. That fucker.”

  “I think I might know what you want to tell me already.” Gareth giggled suddenly. “You’re gay?”

  “It’s not funny!” Oskar huffed. “You’re going to hate me when I tell you.” He looked cross and sad, the frown coming down over his eyes which glistened with tears. Gareth couldn’t stand it anymore. He lunged, grabbed, and the space between them vanished.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t bear seeing you sad! I’ll tell you, and I promise it will be OK. Because I already know. And then, we’ll know everything important, and we can start at the beginning and date, like how it should be.”

  Gareth began to talk quickly, to stop Oskar’s shoulders from shaking. “It’s about your dad. Morris. He was—very like you said, really. An expert on 80s music. And he was a superstar, at least to you. He died, and you miss him so much, only you can’t say that or even think that because if you do, you’ll have to admit you forgive him for telling the cops about your aunty and the drugs. He wasn’t Simon Le Bon. You made that up because it gave you a way to talk about him. Because you turned yourself inside out missing him. Morris saved you. He was the best dad he could be, and if it wasn’t for him then me and you wouldn’t ever have met.” The force of the push sent him keeling backwards.

  “How do you know all that?” Oskar’s voice was ice-cold. “Shut the fuck up.”

  ****

  “Just sit right here, OK? It will only take a few minutes and then we can talk, and everything will be good, and out in the open. Right?” Gareth gabbled brightly. Oskar had not spoken one word since they’d left Dad’s, but he’d allowed Gareth to hold his hand and lead them back to the hostel. He placed the old hospital radio headphones on Oskar’s head, making sure to arrange his hair. “There we go.” He couldn’t tell if it was anger, because Oskar’s face had none of the normal signs. He looked vacantly ahead. “Two minutes. Do not move! Please?”

  Gareth raced down the corridor to the disabled bathroom by the entrance. Of course, he’d been in a few times and had a look, so it was pretty easy to switch it on. He looked for the red light, and then spoke into the dusty microphone. “Hey. It’s me. Gareth. Talking to my boyfriend, Oskar.”

  He looked around for inspiration, fairly sure by now Oskar would have stomped back to his own room and that would be the end of that. “So, um, this is how I know about Oskar and Morris. One night, I put the headphones on because that little switch on my desk began to blink. And I heard you! Of course I listened, because I was crushing on you so bad that I would have kissed your coffee cup i
f I could, just to put my lips on the same spot. I meant to stop, though, once you started with the stuff about Morris—honestly I did! But I couldn’t. It was so sad, and lonely. It made me feel less alone, I guess. I cried a few times. It reminded me of my own dad. And listening made me understand you better, I guess. You know how reading my letters made you feel? Well, that’s exactly what your broadcasts did to me.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened. It was like reading a diary, though I have to tell you, I would totally have done that too. Because I’m crazy about you. Totally gone.” His voice faded. He rested his chin on his hands and was about to switch off. The door swung open and Oskar walked in with hands on hips. He stood for a moment and shook his head slowly. Gareth thought about apologising again. “I—” he began. Oskar shook his head and put one finger on his mouth.

  “Shh.”

  The chair was definitely not built to hold two people, but that didn’t stop Oskar from climbing on, and sitting astride Gareth’s legs. “I underestimated you, Lollipop. You knew all along?”

  “Not the first few days,” Gareth assured. Oskar pursed his mouth. “Sorry.” Gareth’s hands seemed to find their own way to Oskar’s waist, then under the cloth to his warm skin. “I mean—I’m not really sorry that I know. I don’t care. I get that people do…things…to make life more bearable. You were in pain. But I’m sorry I couldn’t stop that pain.” He stroked, but Oskar continued to stare frostily. “Also, I guess I should tell you that Dad actually knows Simon Le Bon. And…I’ve met him.” He watched the blush beginning to spread on Oskar’s cheeks with interest.

  “Please tell me the others didn’t listen too?”

  “No! I went round each room and unplugged the headphones. No-one but me listened, Oskar.”

  “Did they know too? About Simon?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know. If you want my opinion, nobody would care much anyway. You’re wonderful and funny. They all love you, and no-one’s heard of Simon except me.”

  “So you actually know Simon Le Bon? I’m going to want many details, Lollipop.”

  “Met him a few times. He’s OK, but not as cool as Morris and Oskar’s mobile DJ. But Morris? He was the coolest! I went on the internet? There are pictures of you both from years back with that DJ board. Old shots of you doing the discos and parties and even one in the centre of a town at Christmas.” The blush on Oskar’s cheeks deepened. “You were the most adorable kid! And you even had matching dungarees. I’ve printed out a picture—you wanna see it? I keep it under my pillow.”

  “Shut up and kiss me before I have to kill you.”

  Ages later, they staggered out and back to Oskar’s room. “That chair won’t ever recover,” Gareth said with regret. He flopped back on the bed. “Are you OK?” Oskar jumped beside him, making the bed creak, hair still tangled from the bathroom tryst and lips chapped. He kissed Gareth suddenly. “Can we talk now?”

  “No. You were right about those letters, though. Oh-my-god but they tore my heart out and stamped on it!”

  “You put the special songs on? Dad makes us read one every week, and talk about it.” Gareth pulled a face. “It’s excruciating. We have to talk it through with his therapist and then—as if that weren’t enough—he makes us talk all through it again.”

  “I want a therapist! Is he hot? You are a one-off, Lollipop. How come you didn’t tell me to shut up when I kept going on about Simon Le Bon? You must have thought I was crazy.”

  Gareth considered. “At the start, I was too fascinated, and a little scared. You’re not like anyone I ever met before. Then when we started—getting close—I guess I hoped you might tell me.”

  “I wanted to. But being honest and all that shit is new to me. I’m, you know, the star in a sky of ordinary—telling the truth just isn’t in my horizon. OMG. If you ever visited Brinsted Gardens, you wouldn’t believe what it’s like there. The truth? People born there just don’t have that gene. I only worked out how fucked up it is after I came here and saw the others with their families. Morris, though—he wasn’t like Brinsted, not really. He was kind and funny. He never hit anyone or—” He stopped with a great breath.

  “You worshipped him,” Gareth said. Oskar nodded. “You love him.”

  “Yeah. It was him made me go to school and got me into looking at the sky and stuff like that. He was my hero. When I was a kid, he put poems in my lunchbox made from 80s songs. Just little things like that to show me he cared and he was a million light years away from everyone else.”

  “Is that what’s on the back of your posters? I saw the poems when one fell off,” Gareth murmured. “I peeled a few off once when you were out and read them.” He stroked Oskar’s face. “I want to know all about him.”

  “Oh la la! You are so much more devious than I suspected!” Oskar declared, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to move away. “Brinsted hasn’t got room for people like that. I grew up telling lies too, and cheating people. I’m…I’m a wanker. I even caught myself thinking how cool it is to have a rich boyfriend—you, and what I can get out of it.” He closed both eyes. “But I can change. Maybe.” Oskar struggled to keep his composure. “I don’t want to be like that. It’s like there’s two sides of me. And if we’re going to date and all that—you have to know what I’m like.”

  “I want both sides of you. OK? I want all the sides and everything. I’m sorry about your dad.” For a while, Gareth held Oskar close.

  “How can he be gone—just gone?” Oskar sobbed suddenly, and Gareth realised for once he did know what to do and it was nothing except follow his heart. He gathered Oskar up. “He filled my life! And now he’s not there. Sometimes I still think I see him in the street or I wake up hearing his voice. It hurts that he’s not around. There’s a void instead of my dad. And it’s so unfair! All those wankers on Brinsted walking around and he’s gone. You know the first thing I thought when he told me he had cancer? I wished it was Mum instead. Now how fucked up is that?”

  For a while there was nothing except the pain of watching Oskar fall apart and knowing Gareth couldn’t make it better. The sobs turned into sighs and then gentle snores as exhaustion took over.

  Gareth awoke before Oskar. He thought about his compass and dads so hard his brain turned into a tight band of headache. “I have an idea,” he whispered into the spiky hair. “Are you awake?”

  “Nope.”

  “I was thinking—you know those bloggers?”

  “Mmm?”

  “You could do that. An 80s blog, with your dad’s poems and stuff. I bet you’d get like a million followers.” Oskar’s body went still, often a sure sign he was listening. “It would be like he’s still out there with his music. I could help you. Pink too. Though there probably isn’t much I could do.”

  Oskar leaned up on one elbow. “You—are a friggin’ genius. Have I ever told you that?”

  “Not enough times.”

  “I like that, Lollipop!” Oskar scrambled on top and stared down. “Of course, I would need extensive support from you.”

  “What kind?”

  “All kinds.” Oskar devoured Gareth’s mouth.

  “Are you OK? I meant it about talking about him. I mean when you’re ready.”

  “Yeah.” Oskar sat up on the bed. “God! There’s so much shit I have to sort out. Our flat has probably been raided, and fuck knows where all our possessions are.” He clutched Gareth’s hands. “I sent the visiting order to Mum’s prison this week. Mum…” He shook his head. “That’s another story.”

  “I can help! Of course I’ll help, and so will Dad.”

  “Don’t tell him,” Oskar shrieked. “He’ll think I’m jail bait scum from the Brinsted estate.” He chewed a strand of hair. “Well, I am. But no need for him to know.”

  “He already knows all about your mum, and her mum and maybe even the mum before that. He got you all checked out now he’s Mr. Mania Obsessive. Private detectives and spies.”

  “Oh god.” Oskar stared in the mirror
. “Is there no end to my shame and humiliation? Brush my hair. I must be adored in order to get through the day.” Gareth scrambled up. “Then you may make me coffee. White with two sugars today, I believe.”

  “As befits the emotion and anguish you have undergone,” Gareth said grandly. He began brushing. “You don’t need to worry about Dad, though. He’s a habitual liar, but I think they call it fame, or acting or something.” He hugged Oskar from the back. “There’s no shame. And remember—I pissed myself in the woods. OK? Whatever Brinsted Gardens is like, I do not care. OK? And Dad won’t either. He won’t care, and anyway, he has a lot of shit to make up for, believe me. Dad’s not about to go fucking off my boyfriend. You could be a mass murderer and it still wouldn’t come close to what he’s done.”

  “Yeah. True. We do understand a lot about each other. We are two fishes swimming in a tank of truths. It’s crazy horses.” Oskar sniffed. “Yet I am embracing it.”

  “Exactly. And the thing is—if Dad hadn’t sent me to that school then I would never have learned to be independent and streetwise.” Oskar sniggered but Gareth carried gamely on. “Streetwise, yeah. I wouldn’t have come to college. And if yours hadn’t gone to the police—neither would you. See? We wouldn’t have ever met. So I can’t be anything except glad.” He brushed the hair around Oskar’s ears.

  “True. You know that time we met at the station? I had a sort of premonition about you. And I was right. You’re other-worldly and you read minds. Like that time with Stella-Artois and the Josh fiasco. You knew she’d made it up. That didn’t even cross my mind!”

  “Nah. I don’t read minds.”

  Oskar suddenly ripped off his top. “I do know that, stupid. What I’m trying to say is, I realise there’s a lot going on behind those adventurer eyes of yours. See?” He lifted his head back and closed his eyes. It looked like an invitation. Gareth stroked his forehead—“I know I don’t always…appreciate you like I should”—down his cheek and under his chin. All the emotions of the last few days went round his mind and came out through his fingers. He couldn’t speak, so instead he carried on stroking. Oskar leaned in. “Carry on brushing. I like it naked.” The muscles of his back rippled as he moved to accommodate the brush. “See? There’s something else you know about me.”