Oskar Blows a Gasket

by Claire Davis

  “Good. Because if you start shouting I’ll have to stop the visit. There are kiddies here, Mary. Have some restraint.”

  “Sorry. I’m not going to shout.” She looked back at Oskar. “Sorry, love.” She was always sorry—sorry for the black eye—sorry about the bruises—drugs—police—sorry for making their lives an endless round of watching and waiting. There were good times, but always something festered like a decayed tooth waiting to flare up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  In the car, Oskar had conjured up a half-arsed excuse about not wanting to upset. Not the kind of reason to be believed but maybe enough to calm her until the visit was over. He saw the hurt in her face. He wasn’t prepared.

  “Because I was too scared,” he said. “I was too scared to tell you.”

  Her mouth fell open and hung there slackly. Brinsted kids were scared of the cops and teachers, social services and sometimes of uncles, but never of their mum. Mums were gold and angels, salt of the earth. Suddenly he saw how old she looked. Things hadn’t been easy for a long time. Not since Morris started feeling ill and the DJ business was too much to run. Never enough money for rent and bills, never mind textbooks and school uniforms. Her shifts at the market didn’t cover it, and nor did Oskar’s wages from Aunty Kath. And then things had got a little easier.

  “I know things were hard, Mum. But getting me selling drugs?” She winced.

  “You weren’t selling them. All you had to do was take the hair cart round the customers. Nobody said you had to take them!” But she knew. It was written all over the lines on her forehead and underneath her eyes. “I didn’t mean it to get so bad. I never wanted you involved in drugs, love.”

  Tears started running down the creases of her face. Oskar waited for her to wipe them away before someone saw, but she didn’t. He thought about Morris, and the flat, and Gareth, and what a mess it all was. And then he lifted his hand and wiped the tears away with his fingers.

  “I know,” he admitted. Oskar was the one to make the move, but Mum hugged back just as hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about college. I didn’t mean to go—I wasn’t going to go. I went home after court and sat down. I played Dad’s records and I just couldn’t stand it. I miss him so much,” he sobbed. “I couldn’t stay there on my own with him gone.”

  “Me too, love. Who would have thought my little lad would get to a big posh place like that? Your dad would be very proud. Didn’t you think I’d see the college books come through the post?” They never talked about him—hadn’t mentioned his name since the day the police had come. “I miss him too,” she said into Oskar’s hair. “He was right to do it.”

  At the time, Mum had gone berserk. During the weeks that followed, her rage got them both through police interviews and arrests, neighbours throwing bricks through the windows, and even Aunty Kath’s hateful words. Husbands did not grass up wives and family. They just didn’t. No-one believed Mum and Oskar had known nothing about Morris’s confession. He died the day after. The grief and shock churned up together into a fiery mass of energy enough to fuel Oskar through A’ Levels—right on to A-grades and then college.

  Too painful to acknowledge, surrounded by families and guards, in a large room in prison. But the relief of saying his name was so great Oskar forgot about being watched and allowed himself to collapse into her arms.

  “Me too. I miss him so much, Mum. I think about him all the time—all the time. I wish…if I’d just gone to see him. He died thinking we hated him.”

  “He was thinking about you. He knew you were clever. It was his only chance to get you out, and he took it. He knew I’d get time but it was worth it. I can see that now, love. When I get out, things are going to be different. I’m going to start again, somewhere else. I should never have got you involved in all that with Kath! I didn’t mean to. But you know how it is?”

  He did. The money had started rolling in, and for a while they’d had nice things and happy times. Even Morris had enjoyed it. But then drugs took over and he’d started skipping school to help Kath out, and soon enough he would have had his arm out too, digging for veins. Just like Mum and Kath, and most of Brinsted Gardens. Oh, he knew. And so did Morris.

  “And you? You’re going to get the best job and make Morris happy, wherever he is now in 80s heaven. He’ll know you didn’t hate him.” She tugged Oskar’s ponytail. “I’m doing school too.”

  “School?”

  “Anger management.” She looked away again. “I can’t promise miracles and I’m not going to. But I’m trying, love.” She struggled with breathing and words. “It’s hard. It was the drugs. It wasn’t just the drugs. Was it? You’ve met Granddad.” She looked away. “They say I have to confront it all.”

  “Oh, Mum.” Morris had tried so many times to get her to go.

  “And when I get out, I’m not going back to Brinsted. I’ll start somewhere else.” She hugged him again, fiercely. “You’ll always be my little lad.”

  “I’m sorry about the flat.”

  She shrugged, and then the guard was ringing the bell for the end of visits. “Never mind. Some things you can afford to lose, and some you can’t. Wasn’t much of a home, anyway, after Morris died. Will you come again, love? And send me your address?” She spoke quickly, but not in a hurry to go. “Give me another chance?”

  “Yeah.” He stood with her, not wanting to walk away. Unexpectedly, he remembered Gareth’s letters and how they always ended. “Love you. I love you, Mum.”

  ****

  After ten minutes of intense snogging in the back of the car, Oskar came up for air. “Did you miss me?” he demanded, tugging Gareth’s hair a little for emphasis.

  “So bad. Are you really OK? You look so pale. Did she get mad? I wanna know everything.”

  Jim rapped sharply on the window again. “Lads! Let me in and let’s start back. That’s enough time with the slurping.”

  “Let him in,” Oskar said grudgingly. “I’m fine. But you can keep asking and petting me anyway.” He poked Jim in the shoulder. “Stop moaning! You were right about the frisking.”

  “Told you so.” Jim laughed heartily, starting the engine and manoeuvring the car out of the prison car park.

  “So she’s OK? Was it OK? It must be weird.”

  “Yeah, I think so. We…talked about Dad a bit.” He struggled. “It’s all a bit of a mess. We kind of talked. Connected. Not in a big way, but big for Brinsted Gardens. I blew a gasket in there. The top came off and I blew an actual, bloody gasket. Right off! Maybe Mum did too.”

  “Did it hurt? Are you all right?”

  Oskar considered. “It didn’t happen suddenly, like people always think. It built up, all this poison and gas over years and years. Drugs, school, Morris, Brinsted—violence—it was in the air in that prison. I could see it and feel it, and so could Mum. Then it all started coming out. Not like a volcano, though. More like putting your head up out of a tunnel into the light. I think it started when Dad died. I blocked it out with exams and working.” He stopped to wipe his eyes. “And I know you’ll understand. You won’t look like you do—no—and you might not even say you do—but I know it.” It didn’t matter anymore about Jim watching in the mirror. He hurtled into Gareth’s neck. “And that is why you’re my Lollipop.”

  “I do get it. It was sort of the same with me and Dad. It was only words that came out, but words! Man, they can be more powerful than anything. That and the biggest sigh of relief known to man or cat.”

  “She’s off the drugs. For now.”

  “Well, there’s something else Dad can help her with. He went in so many rehabs I can’t even count. Maybe they’ll get together and we can be step-bros.”

  “Gross.”

  “What did she say about college?”

  “Already knew. She was mad, but not too bad. I guess she’s known a while.” It was possible she’d known all along.

  “You told her about me?”

  “Maybe next time.” Oskar sniffed. “You can’t g
o changing the ethos of a civilisation all in one burp.”

  The next round of kissing led to gasps, cravings and intense relief. On the walk back to the car, Oskar had worried about not being able to change back from Brinsted to college boy. Now he saw Gareth knew both Oskars. “Thank god,” Gareth said, as if hearing the thought. “Thank god you’re OK.”

  “Will you two stop trying to rub the skin off each other’s lips?” Jim chuckled. “It’s like being in a car with two horny octopussies.”

  Finally, Oskar fell asleep to out-of-tune singing, feeling completely exhausted.

  He woke up in the dark in front of Mike’s house. “Come on, you’re staying here tonight with me.” He let Gareth half-carry him in and up the stairs. He wanted—mildly—to protest he wasn’t an invalid, but leaning into the warm body was too nice. Mike was waiting upstairs, leaning on a stick. He looked worriedly from Oskar to Gareth.

  “Did it go OK?”

  “Yeah. Thank you for the lift.” He scrambled out of Gareth’s hold and shook Mike’s hand. “It wasn’t…as hard as I thought it would be. It really helped having Gareth and Jim.”

  “Really? Oh, thank god! All day, I kept ringing Jim, but he wouldn’t pick up. Then I rang the prison.” Mike held on to Oskar’s hand. “But I’ll stop—I promise! No more interfering from me.” He sagged against the wall. “I’d like to help when she gets out—if you’d like? I could help her with a house. Maybe around here? And I can help her stay off the drugs. I can tell her about the ten-point programme, and buy her a house and—”

  “Dad!”

  “Sorry! I just want to do all I can.”

  “Yeah. We’d like some help,” Oskar said, “but calm down and—you know—don’t get too excited. She’s relapsed so many times before I don’t get my hopes up too much. And it might be a while before I can pay you back for the petrol.”

  “You already have.”

  ****

  Oskar woke with a feeling he couldn’t name. It was still dark. The bed was big and comfortable, much bigger than at the hostel. He wasn’t alone. The other boy had flung his leg over Oskar’s and was snuggled up into his side. It took a few minutes to piece the jigsaw and then he knew the feeling was something like Saturday morning and Christmas. He turned drowsily into Gareth, but still it wasn’t close enough. “We slept together all night. Actually slept,” he whispered. “In the same boudoir. Us and Bubble.”

  “Still sleeping.”

  “You’re sleep-talking?”

  “Mm.” Gareth shifted so Oskar could see his face. “How you doing? What time is it?”

  Oskar checked his watch. “Six.”

  “Still early. Come back to sleep.”

  “I can’t.”

  Gareth scratched his head vigorously. “You’re thinking, then. I can tell. Is it a Jesus Christ, I’m so horny I could die? Or—” he kissed Oskar’s arm noisily “—an Oskar Braithwaite would never allow anyone near enough to sleep in the same bed?” He wriggled and pushed until the sheet between their bodies was removed. “That one’s a cover-up for you feeling bad about your mum. Which is it? I have a strategy ready for either one.”

  “You have a strategy? What is it?”

  “Well, OK. Listen up. First off, I will probably clean my teeth because I’m pretty sure my breath is awful, but I’ll do it secretly on the way to the kitchen.”

  “But you just told me. It won’t be a secret.”

  “True! Then I will make us both coffee and bring it to bed, where I will either ravish you. Or—” he stopped to rotate his nose “—listen to your concerns. Either way, it’ll be fine.”

  “Nope. It’s neither of those.” Though he was horny. “It is something unexpected and amazing. I think I’m happy.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yes.”

  Gareth pretended to faint. Oskar pulled a peak of hair sharply. “Aw!”

  “I know there’s still a load of things I have to sort out for Mum—and chances are she’s going to be a nightmare—but there you are. I, Oskar Braithwaite, am happy. Also—did I tell you I got top marks this term?” In the stress of visiting Mum, the news had gone unshared. Gareth bounced up and down and then grabbed Oskar into a bear hug.

  “Because you’re brilliant!” Soon the sheets were on the floor and the kisses grew more urgent. Gareth rolled on top and rocked, stroking the hair from Oskar’s face and with each thrust, seemed to send silent and invisible waves of intense love into the slight figure beneath.

  “Yeah,” Oskar panted from underneath as the movements began knocking the bed against the wall. “What if your dad hears?”

  “I locked the door. He won’t.” They breathed together until the rocking turned into a furious loss of control that ended in orgasms of mingled limbs, hair and more. “Doing it with you is so good,” he mumbled into the panting mess. “Can we do it again soon?”

  A while later, Oskar sipped coffee thoughtfully. “Are you happy?”

  “Oh god, I am. I feel so different—like a new person. Or maybe I feel like the person I always was, deep down? I’m not stupid. I know Dad isn’t going to stay in Wales until my course is over, and I expect he’ll find some way of jetting off again. But now I know he cares about me, it makes all the difference. And he knows I’m not this perfect kid who never speaks. We even have arguments! The other day, he told me off for leaving wet towels on the floor and I said he was nagging. Then he said I have no respect and I said nor does he. It went on all night.”

  “That’s good?”

  “Yeah! It’s like I’ve stored up all the petty things kids and parents argue about, and now they’re coming out.” Gareth laughed. “It’s so much better than saying nothing at all. You know? He is going to find out exactly how rude and irritating I can be. It’s a weight off my chest.”

  “Yeah. Like there’s nothing to worry about now. Nothing major, anyway. You do leave towels all over the floor, Lollipop. It is a very bad habit of yours. And you never wash your pots. Pink does them.”

  “I know. It’s because we had servants all those years. I guess that’s why?”

  “Nope. It’s because you’re a lazy bugger. Plus you leave smelly socks under your bed. Oh! And that funny book with unlikely pictures of gay sex.” Oskar chuckled. “It’s hilarious. Did you read the page about rimming?”

  Gareth spluttered into his cup. “He wants us to go to America in the summer. To see Mom, and my grandparents. Even contacted them. Of course you’re invited too. I’m not going if you don’t come with me.”

  “It’s mental. I’ve gone from being penniless rogue to cavorting with Michael Fraser’s son.”

  “So you’re staying here for Christmas with me? It’s decided.”

  “I notice you slipped that in there all casual! And with the Care Bear eyes.” But Oskar couldn’t be mean for prolonged periods anymore. He kissed Gareth suddenly. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way. And you promise to teach me about those fancy knives and forks and stuff. Everyone staring at me makes me very nervous. I don’t wanna choke on a sprout.”

  Chapter 25: Dance to the Rhythm of Your Heart

  Oskar

  Dear Stella (Artois),

  Thank you for your letter. I am most triumphant to hear you are feeling less crazy and getting treatment. It was nice of you to ask after my mum. She has a steep hill to climb when she gets out of prison next year. I don’t know how it will go. Things are very complicated between us. Think anti-Freud…

  I don’t think internet dating is the way to go for you, if you don’t mind me saying so. What you need is a nice local boy who will buy you a kebab on a Friday night and do all the things Josh said. But with more sex. A lot more sex. Whatever you do, do NOT meet that guy who you describe as ravishing and dynamic. If he was either, he would have no need to be trawling through the internet looking at gorgeous young ladies such as yourself. No. If you must go on that dating site, only consider guys who say things like: have a job. Shy. Some hair. NO hygiene issues.

  I’
m glad to hear Gareth, Paula and Carol Headscarf have also written. I will kick Moira Ears and Elsa (can’t remember her name) up the arse to send letters too, as they are both lazy slugs. Also, I will give Tony a shove because he was asking after you, too. Actually, I think Tony carries a torch for you.

  She-queen girl, I have an invitation ticket for you. I know it might feel hard coming back after what happened but I hope you will believe me when I say things are different now. (For a start, we threw away all frying pans and blunt objects.) It will be just for one night in January. But rest assured, I will make it the night of your life.

  Hope you have a wonderful Christmas. I enclose a small gift, which I hope you will consider wearing when you come here. I shall be going to Gareth’s dad’s for Santa’s day with Gareth (of course), and Carol. Gareth and his dad are another story, but you will have to wait and see for yourself. Yes, I shall keep pestering you until you come.

  Take care,

  Your friend Oskar.

  P.S. Sorry this was sent a little late. Did you have a good Christmas? We had a wicked time at Gareth’s. In the end, me and Carol also took Tony, because turns out he has no family and Gareth’s dad said bring him too. I did mine and Carol’s hair bright pink but then she covered hers with a scarf. I also wore a blitz blouson and pantaloons.

  We got plastered and then all these famous people turned up and you absolutely won’t believe who came. Simon Le Bon! OMG, Stell. I shat a brick and had a herd of cows and died. Actually died. He talked to me! It was just so mental. He is really nice. We got him to sing all the songs, and it was, like, the best time ever. When you get here, I’ll show you the pictures. He is cool, but to tell you the truth, he is not as cool as my dad was.

  The best part of Christmas was waking up with Gareth, and going to sleep with him. I can’t tell you how much I love him. Oh, I just did. I cannot say the same for his psychotic cat, however. I’m sure it’s planning to kill me.

  Bodacious

  P.P.S. There was also an agent there called Kip. Carol has the serious hots for him. We can only hope this does not bring on her vaginal rash.