The Other Son

by Alexander, Nick

  “Thanks,” Bruno says, brightly. “I knew you’d be cool.”

  Alice laughs. She’s not sure anyone has ever called her cool. “Matt said you’d show me wherever it is that I’m staying?” she says. She feels the need for something concrete to do, something practical rather than all this searching for missing feelings.

  “Yep,” Bruno says. “We’ll have to walk it though. Unless you want to go on the bike?”

  “The bike?”

  “The old Suzuki down by the road. That’s mine,” Bruno says. “I could take you on that. If it will start. The battery might be flat, though. I haven’t moved it for weeks.”

  Alice shakes her head. “Um, I don’t think so,” she says. “Not today, anyway,” she adds. She doesn’t want to completely cancel out her cool-ness. “Is it far?”

  “Half a mile maybe. So no, not really.”

  “I think a walk might be nice,” Alice says.

  “A glass of water before we go?”

  “No thanks,” Alice says. “I’ve never much liked water.”

  Bruno laughs again.

  “Is that funny?”

  Bruno grins at her. “Well yes,” he says. “You’d be dead without water. We’d all be dead without water.”

  Once Bruno has drunk two full glasses of the life-saving stuff, he locks the cabin doors and he and Alice start to make their way down the track towards the main road. “This must get muddy when it rains, doesn’t it?” Alice asks.

  “Yes,” Bruno says. “It does.”

  “So why did you decide to live here of all places?” Alice asks. “Oh, it’s your parents’ place. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s their summer house,” Bruno says. “But that’s not why we live here. We live here because we like it.”

  Alice nods. “It’s pretty, I suppose,” she says. “As long as you don’t mind being so far away.”

  “Far away from?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “As long as we don’t mind being so far away from what?” Bruno asks.

  “I don’t know,” Alice says. “From everything really.”

  “I love it here,” Bruno tells her. “Matt does too.”

  “Yes, that surprises me really,” Alice says. “He always seemed such a city boy.”

  As they round the second corner the intense noise of the cicadas suddenly stops. Once they continue along the track it stutteringly starts up again behind them.

  “Noisy buggers, aren’t they?” Alice says lightly.

  “The sound of summer,” Bruno replies.

  By the time they have reached the main-road, the silence has begun to feel uncomfortable, so Alice takes a deep breath and asks, “Did you say you met Matt in Thailand?”

  “Yeah,” Bruno says. “I was trying to block the bottom of the door with toilet paper to stop the roaches coming in.”

  “It sounds horrible.”

  “It was, but kind of fun, too,” Bruno says. “Anyway, Matt had insecticide. He gave me a squirt of it and stole my heart.”

  “Very romantic.”

  “Well quite. And I kind of just liked him there and then, you know? He’s very likeable.”

  Alice nods and thinks about this for a moment as they continue to walk side by side. “But how did you know?” she asks. “I mean... how could you tell?”

  “That he was gay?”

  “Yes,” Alice says. “I couldn’t.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugs. “No, I don’t think so. I wasn’t as surprised as I might have been. But...”

  “It’s called gaydar,” Bruno says. “If you’re gay you can just tell.”

  “Always?”

  “Nah,” Bruno says. “No. I get it wrong all the time. But often.”

  “Maybe I did know,” Alice says. “Deep down.”

  “Anyway, we got together against the roaches and decided to travel on to Indonesia together. And we’ve been together ever since.”

  “Well, I’m glad you... you know... get on.” She winces. Her choice of words sounded wrong there, but then again, even she’s not sure quite what she meant to say.

  “We do get on. Matt’s very cool. You should be proud.”

  “Huh! I don’t think I had much to do with that.”

  “Well, someone did,” Bruno says. “And by the sounds of it, it wasn’t his dad.”

  “I really don’t think it was me, either,” Alice says. But she feels a flush of pride all the same. Because, yes, for all of her failings as a parent, here Matt is, alive, apparently healthy, and apparently happy. And partnered with rather lovely, relaxed, honest Bruno.

  She’s proud of herself also, she realises, for her ability to conduct this conversation. Chatting to her son’s partner does feel, after all, rather modern. She can think of plenty of parents her age who would struggle with that.

  Perhaps it’s because Bruno is, essentially, a stranger to her. She has often noticed how much easier it is for her to talk about things – particularly intimate things – with someone she has never met before. Which is strange, really, when you think about it.

  “So is it true that Matt’s Dad hit you?” Bruno asks unexpectedly.

  Alice is so blind-sided by the question that she momentarily stops breathing as she glances sideways at him. But from his expression – neutral, open, interested – it really would appear that he thinks this is just a reasonable thing to ask.

  “I’m not sure I want to talk about that right now,” Alice says. “Sorry.”

  “Wow,” Bruno says. “He did then.”

  “Yes,” Alice replies coldly. “Yes, he did.”

  As they cross a small road bridge, Bruno pauses and points down at the brook below. “Look,” he says.

  “What?” Alice asks, leaning over the railings beside him.

  “The river.”

  “Yes?” Alice asks, looking up and down the length of the river as she attempts to spot whatever Bruno has seen.

  “It’s pretty,” Bruno says in a funny pedantic voice. “So look at it.”

  “Oh!” Alice laughs. “OK. Yes. Lovely. God, it’s hot though, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  They start to walk again. “I hope it doesn’t get much hotter than this, does it?” Alice asks.

  “It most definitely does.”

  “I love the sunshine,” she confides. “But I’ve never been that good with the heat.”

  “That must be a challenging combination,” Bruno says. Alice frowns, so he expounds, “What with the sun being the source of all the heat on the planet and everything.”

  “It’s not that challenging in England,” Alice says, sarcastically.

  “No, I guess not,” Bruno laughs. He points to a hamlet of houses in the distance. “That’s where you are. That’s the village.”

  “Thank God for that,” Alice says. “I think I need that drink of water after all. But my, it’s tiny. Is that it?”

  “Yep,” Bruno says. “That’s it.”

  The hamlet comprises fewer than a dozen thin stone houses, squashed one against the other on the roadside. “Virginie’s is that one,” Bruno says, pointing at the second house. “The one with the cats.”

  A small staircase leads up from the narrow road to a tiny garden with a tatty vine-covered pergola leading to the front door. On every other step is a flowering pot plant, and five of the steps are occupied by mangy country cats.

  “Are they friendly?” Alice asks, as Bruno leads her past them. “I’ve never been that fond of cats.”

  “No,” Bruno says. “You said. And yes, they’re lovely.”

  “And where is Virginie?” Alice asks once they have reached the trellis. “I never thought to ask.”

  “Her mother’s ill,” Bruno says. “She’s in Marseille looking after her.”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope?”

  “Very serious, I’m afraid,” Bruno says. “She’s dying.”

  “Oh, how sad.”

  “Yes,
” Bruno says. “She’s lovely too. Ah, there’s your case.”

  Alice looks over to see it sitting behind a small marble garden table. She tuts. “That Matt!” she says plaintively. “I can’t believe he just left it outside.”

  “Um, not too much crime around here,” Bruno replies.

  “All the same,” Alice says, grabbing the handle of the case and yanking it towards the front door.

  Bruno unlocks the front door and leads Alice into a small kitchen cum dining-room. The furniture is old, but has been repainted in Provençal yellows and greens. With the vine-covered entrance, it’s like a postcard of Provence.

  Alice looks around at all of Virginie’s things, and the reality of staying in someone else’s home suddenly hits her. Surprisingly, she hadn’t thought much about it. “Gosh all her stuff’s still here,” she says, looking at a bottle of deodorant on the sideboard.

  “Well yes. This wasn’t exactly planned.”

  “Are you sure she doesn’t mind?” Alice asks. “I’d feel very funny about someone living in my place.”

  “She said not,” Bruno says. “I didn’t even have to ask. I just told her you were coming and she offered.”

  Two of the cats have followed them into the kitchen, and the brown, shabby tabby has leapt onto the kitchen counter. Alice raises her hands to scare him away. “Go on, you,” she says. “Outside. Shoo!” The cat looks at her nonchalantly and then rubs his chin against the fruit bowl and meows.

  “Shoo?” Bruno laughs. “This is where they live.”

  “Yes, but not on the kitchen counter,” Alice says. “I bet even Virginie doesn’t allow that.”

  Bruno doesn’t reply. He just grins at Alice disarmingly. “Come upstairs,” he says. “Come see the other rooms.”

  Alice follows him up a narrow, whitewashed stone staircase. It reminds her of those photos you see of Greek villages and amusingly, on the landing, is a photo of a Greek church. Virginie must have had the same thought.

  The lounge, exactly the same size as the kitchen, contains a sofa and an armchair. These have been covered with red and orange throws which look like they might have come from India. The red hexagonal tiles of the floor are covered with small rugs, and the walls with heavily laden bookcases.

  “Cosy huh?” Bruno says.

  “Yes,” Alice replies. “But look at all that cat hair! I hope she’s got a Hoover. And I’ll give those bookcases a dust for her, too. It looks like they could do with it.”

  “She has great taste, huh?” Bruno says. “Come on. Only one more floor to go.”

  On the third floor is the final room, a very feminine bedroom. An iron four-poster takes up most of the room. It has been draped, prettily, with mosquito netting.

  “Do you have mosquitos here?” Alice asks.

  “Yep. We use those plug-in things, but Virginie prefers nets.”

  “Ooh, I think I’ll need a plug too,” Alice says. “I hate mosquitos. So how old is Virginie?” To Alice, it looks like quite a young girl’s bedroom for some reason.

  “Not sure,” Bruno says. “Her mother’s ninety-one. And I think she had her quite young.”

  “So... seventies?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And the bathroom?” Alice asks. “I didn’t see a bathroom.”

  “Ah!” Bruno laughs. “That’s the catch.”

  “The catch?”

  “Yeah. I hope you’re not like Matt. I hope you don’t pee in the middle of the night.”

  Bruno leads her back down to the ground floor. “Gosh all these stairs!” Alice says.

  They step back out onto the courtyard. On the opposite side, a small blue door is set into the stone wall. “Tada!” Bruno says, opening it.

  The bathroom, though tiny, contains everything one might need, a toilet, sink, mirror and a small tiled shower area. The ceiling has been painted the same deep blue as the door, and the walls again have been whitewashed. “Is Virginie Greek?” Alice asks, pointing at another photo, this time of two women posing in front of a higgledy-piggledy Greek village.

  “Nope. But she loves Greece. Especially Santorini.”

  “Is one of these two her?” Alice asks, pointing at the photo.

  Bruno leans in and studies the picture. “Yes. That’s Virginie on the left,” he says. “But a long long time ago.”

  Alice looks around the bathroom again. “It reminds me of when I was a girl,” she says. “We had an outside loo as well.”

  “So, you’ll be OK then.”

  “Yes, fine. As long as it doesn’t rain,” Alice says, stepping back out into the courtyard.

  “Hah,” Bruno says. “We’ll get you an umbrella. This over here is mint.” He walks to a rockery in the corner and picks a leaf and puts it into his mouth. “You might want to water this for her. It’s a bit dry.”

  “And you might want to wash that before you eat it,” Alice says. “It’s probably got cat pee all over it.” A clattering noise behind her makes Alice jump. She turns to see the white longhair bursting back out through a cat-flap. “Oh,” she says. “They have their own door.”

  “Like I said, this is their home.”

  “But I can lock it, presumably?”

  “Why would you want to lock it?”

  “Well, to keep them outside,” Alice says.

  “But why would you want to lock Virginie’s cats outside? I don’t get it.”

  “Not all the time,” Alice explains. “But perhaps at night. I mean, there are no doors are there? I don’t want them running all over me all night. I don’t want them bringing me dead mice and things.”

  Bruno strokes his beard. He pushes his tongue into the side of his cheek. He stares at Alice. He looks bemused.

  “What?” she asks.

  Bruno scratches his neck. “I’m just surprised,” he says. “Matt was right, I guess. He said you were like this, only I thought he was exaggerating.”

  Alice frowns. “Like what?” she asks. She’s really not sure what she’s said.

  “Is it because you’re stressed?” Bruno asks. “Because I know you’ve had a hard time. And some people get weird when they’re stressed. My dad does actually.”

  Alice pales. “Stressed?” she says. “I’m sorry... I...”

  Bruno raises his hands in a gesture of peace. He smiles gently. “Hey, I’m not, you know, having a go, Alice,” he says. “I’m just trying to understand.” And indeed, his tone is gentle, friendly, entirely devoid of anger or aggressiveness.

  “I’m not sure what I’ve done,” Alice replies honestly. She’s running conversations through her mind trying to spot the error. “I didn’t realise that I was being weird, to be honest.”

  “Really?” Bruno asks.

  “Really.”

  “OK, here’s the thing,” Bruno says, chewing his lip. “I guess... Well... You might wanna work on your positives, is all.”

  “My positives?”

  “Yeah!”

  “I’m sorry, Bruno,” Alice says. “But I’m really not following you.”

  “OK,” Bruno says softly. “You seem nice, Alice. Really you do. And I know you’ve had a hard time. But since you arrived, I’ve heard nothing but negatives from you. The house is remote. You don’t like cats. You don’t like water. It’s too hot. There are so many stairs... Matt said that in the car you actually asked him who would want to live in a place like this? Is that true?”

  “I... I was only thinking about how remote it is,” Alice says. “For youngsters like yourselves.”

  “That is your point of view,” Bruno says. “But you’re here for a month, eh?”

  Alice nods and swallows with difficulty. She’s being gently berated by a seven foot, twenty-nine-year-old Canadian boy – her son’s boyfriend. And she has absolutely no past data on how to react to that.

  “So you might wanna try to find some positives here,” Bruno continues. “You might wanna try to execute this whole thing with a bit of elegance, for us, but for you too. For you mainl
y, in fact. That’s all I’m saying here.”

  Alice nods and wipes a bead of perspiration from her top lip.

  “Your son’s driven for five hours today to pick you up before going off to work a seven hour shift. We’ve found you this great place to stay.” He gestures around him. “Most people say... In fact, you know what? I think you’re the first person ever to come to our cabin and not say how awesome it is. And this place? Look around you, Alice. It’s fucking incredible.”

  Alice nods. “I hear you,” she says.

  “You’re going through some really difficult shit, Alice. I know that, OK? We all know that. But we don’t need to make this whole thing as difficult as possible do we? We can actually find some pleasure here if we try, don’t you think?”

  Alice swallows and nods silently. She can’t think of a single word to say. She feels about five again.

  “It’s like Mum always says. You have to take the time to smell the roses.”

  Alice sighs deeply. She has an inexplicable desire to say, “I’ve just left my husband. He beat me.” Instead, she licks her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” Bruno says, concernedly. “I think I’ve upset you, huh?”

  “No, not really,” Alice says vaguely. “I’m not sure how I feel.”

  “OK. Well, I’m going to go home and give you some space. I’m gonna make some dinner, too. And then I’ll see you about eight, OK? You remember the way?”

  Alice nods robotically.

  “Great,” Bruno says. “Oh, the keys are on the side, there. And don’t forget to feed the cats. The crunchy things are under the sink. And they need water too. Otherwise they die.”

  Alice watches Bruno as he skips down the stone steps and strides off into the distance. She sinks onto a hard cast-iron garden chair behind her and remembers seeing a round cushion for it somewhere indoors. She can’t find the energy to go and get it right now, though.

  One of the cats, an old, skinny, grey one, jumps up onto her lap, but she pushes it off and crosses her knees to discourage it from returning. The cat rolls onto its back at her feet instead. It looks like it wants its tummy tickled, but Alice knows how quickly cats go from tickle-me to bite-you. She’s not falling for that one.