Imagines (Imago, Book Two)

by N. R. Walker

  “What are we having?”

  He held up a takeaway container. “Mediterranean vegetable lasagne, greek salad, and a chianti.”

  “Perfect.”

  He slid the lasagne onto the kitchen counter when he noticed the envelope I’d left there. He picked it up. “What’s this?”

  “It’s my letter from pathology. I see you haven’t opened yours either.”

  “I got it yesterday,” he said quietly. “I thought I’d wait for you.”

  “And I thought we could open them together.”

  Lawson nodded. “We could.”

  He was clearly nervous, and truthfully, so was I. We’d discussed this at length and agreed that full blood tests were a natural step forward for our relationship. He didn’t want to use condoms anymore. He said he wanted me and nothing else inside him.

  Now, I’d never not used protection, ever. But I’d never been in love with someone like I was with him before either. I also couldn’t see myself wanting anyone but him. And when he put it like that, about me being the only thing inside him, I couldn’t argue.

  So we’d gone together to have blood tests, and the results sat, unread, folded in white envelopes. Lawson was still holding mine, nervously licking his lips and turning the letter over in his hand, so I picked up his. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “I don’t know. Because this can’t be undone, and I want this but I’m also equally fine with it if we don’t. Don’t ever use condoms, that is.”

  I would have chuckled at how cute he was if he wasn’t being so serious. I stood before him, leaned against him until he was backed up against the kitchen counter, and lifted his chin. “Lawson, we’ve both been tested before and it was fine. This is just a formality, really. A peace of mind.”

  He looked intently into my eyes. “Jack, please know that whatever the results are, nothing will change how I feel about you.”

  I kissed him softly. “Same, Lawson. I love you, that won’t change.”

  He finally smiled. “Thank you.”

  “How about you read mine, and I read yours?”

  He frowned for half a second, then nodded. “Okay.” But just as I’d slid my finger through the envelope seal, he said, “Wait!”

  I froze. “What?”

  “Should we eat dinner first?”

  I barked out a laugh but quickly realised he was being serious. I knew him well enough to know he needed some time. I took the envelope from his hand and, along with the one I was holding, slid them back onto the kitchen counter. I kissed him again, soft and lingering. “We can worry about that later.”

  So, we ate our dinner, then ended up on the sofa under a fleecy throw blanket, wine glasses in hand. “I know reverse cycle heating is convenient, but I do miss my wood fire,” I mused.

  “There’s a lot to be said about wearing sweatpants and socks and snuggling with you under a blanket,” he said, sipping his wine. He bent his leg and slid his socked foot along my thigh under the blanket.

  I chuckled. “True. It is nice.”

  “It’ll almost be a shame to go to Cairns. Though I’m not opposed to seeing you all sweaty, wearing next to nothing.”

  “You can see that here. Anytime you want.”

  He laughed and hummed an impatient sound, then without breaking eye contact, he downed the rest of his wine in one mouthful and put his glass on the coffee table. He stood up and held out his hand. “You shouldn’t put explicit imagery in my mind. I have no self-control when it comes to you.”

  “Explicit imagery? All I said was that you could see me half-naked and sweaty here. You were the one who mentioned the half-naked and sweaty first.”

  Lawson rolled his eyes. “Your argument is subjective.”

  I snorted out a laugh, put my wine glass next to his, and stood up. I gripped his jaw and tilted his face up so I could flutter my eyelashes along his cheek. I only did it because it made his breath catch. I waited for his eyelids to slowly open, revealing unfocused eyes. “I’m going to take you to bed, Lawson.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded. He waited two beats of my heart before sliding his fingers over my hand that was still pressed to his jaw. He squeezed my fingers, and without a word, he led the way to his room.

  He walked as far as his bed, then turned to face me. There was worry in his eyes. “What about the test results?”

  I opened the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a condom and the small bottle of lube. I threw them onto the bed and kissed him softly. “Not until you’re certain.”

  I could feel the relief roll off him.

  I smiled. “Now, I want you naked, on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

  He let out a slow breath and his pupils blew out. But he did exactly as I asked, and I gave him everything he demanded.

  * * *

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No.”

  “Why aren’t you nervous?”

  “Because I’m not.”

  “How can you not be?”

  I snorted. We were in the backseat of a cab, having just arrived in Melbourne, on our way to his parents’ house. “Lawson, I’m completely fine. You, on the other hand, seem to be very worried. Is that something I should be worried about?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that…”

  “It’s just what?”

  “Well, I’ve not taken anyone home to meet my family before.”

  Oh. “Are you worried they won’t approve of me?”

  His eyes went wide, horrified. “Oh, good gracious, no. They’ll love you, I’m sure of it.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” But as I asked this question, it dawned on me what the answer was. “You’re worried about what they’ll see in you.”

  Lawson opened his mouth, promptly shut it again, then sighed dramatically, and I knew I was right. “You don’t understand. I’ve never been with anyone… I care deeply for in their company. I don’t know how to act accordingly. Mackellar and Paterson never had such problems, of course. Their partners are lovely, but they’re very… heteronormative. If you know what I mean.”

  He was so endearing. “Lawson, they know you’re gay, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you told them we’re together?”

  His eyebrows knitted. “Yes, you know I have. You’ve spoken to my mother on the phone.”

  “Exactly. So you have nothing to hide and nothing to worry about. I’m not about to grope you in front of your parents. We don’t have to hold hands or anything. We can even sit at opposite ends of the house if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He cringed. “Would you be offended?”

  “Not at all.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face, then patted down his hair. Something I noticed he did when he was nervous or flustered. “Maybe my worries are unfounded. And completely my own. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  I took his hand and kissed his palm. “Lawson. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The truth was, I had no idea if it would be fine or not. They were, after all, geniuses in their chosen medical fields, and I was, well, not as educated as them. But I loved Lawson, and that was all I had to offer. If that wasn’t enough, then that said more about them than it did about me.

  Not to say that I didn’t hope they would like me and welcome me into their family, given I had every intention of being around for a long time, but if they didn’t, then that was that. I wouldn’t beg or change who I was.

  “Have you met someone’s parents before?”

  Lawson’s question threw me by surprise. “Not since high school. I dated a guy from a different high school and I met his parents, but we were just kids.”

  “What about when you were at university?”

  I shook my head. “I went to uni in Sydney, as you know.” We’d talked about all this before. “I never saw anyone seriously enough to bring them back to Hobart to meet my family.”

  “Will I? Meet your family, that is.”

&n
bsp; I smiled. “Yes, of course. Well, you’ve chatted with April a few times on the phone. She thinks you’re lovely. We can drive down to Hobart one weekend, and I can finally take you out on a proper date.”

  “Proper date?” He frowned. “Are you implying that the dates we’ve had aren’t proper? Because I would take great personal offence to that. That picnic in your backyard is unsurpassable.”

  I smiled at him. “We might wear suits and eat the very best food.”

  He sat back in the seat, his worries seemingly forgotten. “You made peanut butter sandwiches and we drank mulled cider under the stars. I’d dare a Michelin-star chef to top that.”

  The taxi pulled up to a house, a modest but well-kept weatherboard home, and Lawson patted down his hair. “Right then, here we are.”

  We paid the fare, grabbed all our luggage and by the time I turned to face the house, a woman was standing on the front veranda. She had shoulder-length, grey wavy hair, wore a long flowing skirt and a peasant-style top, and looked like she’d walked straight out of Woodstock. I thought that couldn’t possibly be Lawson’s mother. I was expecting a well-to-do, straight-backed woman―more like Lawson―not a hippie. But then she extended her arms and cried, “Lawson!”

  Lawson grinned at her. “Mum!”

  I was stunned. Then she raced down the path and threw her arms around me. “And you must be Jack!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lawson

  I couldn’t help but smile as my mother embraced Jack on the footpath, then dragged him by the arm up to the house.

  “No, that’s fine,” I called out after them. “I’ll get our luggage.”

  Jack gave me a happy, slightly terrified glance over his shoulder as my mum hauled him in through the front door. I grumbled as I towed the two suitcases up the front path, then struggled to get them up the few steps. Thankfully my brother Paterson was soon there, taking Jack’s suitcase from me. “Welcome home,” he said warmly.

  I straightened and smiled. It really was good to see him. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here today.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it.” He put his hand to the front door, but before opening it, he stopped and turned to me. “It’s about time we met this Jack fellow I keep hearing about. I’m almost certain he was attached to Mum as she blurred through the house just now.”

  I ignored the fact my face grew hot. “Yes, well. I’ve been terribly nervous about bringing him here.”

  Paterson laughed and clapped his hand gently on my upper arm. “What on earth for? The level of embarrassment that Mum and Dad will put you through is only slightly horrific. She’s probably already showing him your baby photos. We probably should go save him.”

  I sighed, and we pushed our way inside. Paterson and I left the luggage tucked away in the corner of the living room and went in search of Jack. He was, as expected, in the sunroom sandwiched between my mother and father, looking completely overwhelmed. And in that moment, any foolish notion on my behalf of displays of affection in front of my family dissolved. I walked directly to him, positioning myself between Jack and my mother, and slid my arm around his waist, making him take a small step back. I gave my mother a stern look. “Breathing room, please.”

  Her face, which was positively beaming, softened. She put her hand to my cheek. “Look at you, my sweetest Lawson. Protective and so in love.”

  A part of me died inside, along with my pride and humility. Someone laughed, and when I looked up, I saw Mackellar sitting at the table, not even attempting to hide her glee at my discomfort. I could probably consider it payback for when she first brought her then-boyfriend, now-husband, James, home to meet our parents. James hid his smile behind his cup of tea. Bree came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with more cups and a pot of tea, and she gave me a reassuring smile.

  Everyone was looking at me, so I patted down my hair and swallowed down my nerves. “Introductions, if you will. Jack Brighton, this is my entire family, all at once. Which I apologise profusely for.” I started left to right. “My brother-in-law, James. My sister, Mackellar. My brother, Paterson; his wife and better half, Bree. My mother, Hyacinth, and my father, Darren. Everyone, this is Jack Brighton.”

  Gentle hellos echoed around the sunroom, and Jack seemed to take it all in stride. He turned to Mum, who now had her arm linked with his. “Hyacinth? As in Asparagaceae Hyacinthus?”

  My mother positively glowed. “Ah, a man who knows his genus botanical names! But no, I’m so named after my mother’s favourite character from Watership Down, Hyzenthlay.”

  Jack’s eyes flashed with something that looked like a memory. “Ah, Richard Adams. I loved that book when I was a kid.”

  And with that, my mother was besotted with him. With hearts in her eyes, she ushered him to the table. “Come, sit down and tell us about you.”

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “How’s life treating you south of the Bass Strait?”

  “It’s good, Dad.”

  “And your Tillman Copper? How’s the breeding program going? We’re all so very proud of you, Lawson.”

  My chest warmed through. “Thank you. Everything is going splendidly.”

  We settled around the table for a wonderful lunch of homemade soup and fresh-baked bread and good conversation. I told of all my findings with the Tillman Copper, and everyone asked Jack questions, including him in their conversations, and there was much chatter and laughter. Seeing Jack interact and laugh with my family made me incredibly happy. I hadn’t realised how much his acceptance by them, and his acceptance of them, meant to me.

  My family wasn’t strictly normal. I knew that. I’d been told my entire childhood that we were weird. My mother was never part of the school-mum clique: too alternative for their liking. She didn’t dress like them. She certainly didn’t think like them. Some days she’d give us the day off school so she could take us into the countryside where we could read in open parks, feeling grass between our toes and the sun on our faces with books in our laps. She told us we’d learn more about life from reading poetry about the earth and love, life and death, than sitting in a classroom all day every day.

  She was right. Even as Paterson and Mackellar went on to medical school, they would still take their books to the park, take their shoes off, and spend their days studying in the sunshine. Though I preferred the shade in summer, I found it cleared my mind to read with my back to a tree and my feet in the grass with the occasional butterfly to say hello to.

  And growing up, once a week my father would pick a different country and we would search the library on traditional foods and customs. Then we would each help to prepare and cook that country’s staples the traditional way and we would discuss their history and culture over the meal. None of my childhood classmates did any such thing, and they quite often reminded me I was not like them. My mother would just hug me and tell me we were the Weasleys in a world of Muggles.

  She said there was magic in our individuality. Though over and above everything else, we were taught to be free-thinking and empathetic. And over time, we learned to embrace our individuality.

  I know people didn’t always agree with my opinion, or my choice of attire, or my sexuality. But everyone in this room loved and accepted me without question. Including Jack. I found myself smiling at him as he told everyone of the two Tasmanian devil joeys I’d saved, and when I felt someone watching me, I turned to see my mum’s eyes on me. She was teary and smiling.

  “So, tell us, what are your plans for Cairns?” Mackellar asked when Jack’s story was done.

  Jack answered first. “Well, I imagine Lawson will be busy doing his lepidopterist thing mostly, saving another species no doubt.” He put his hand on my knee and squeezed gently. “Though I’m not opposed to spending a few days on the beach or in the national parks. Both, preferably.”

  “I won’t be spending all my time at the conservatory.” I gave him a smile. “I’m sure you can spend one day with me in the butterfly house. Then if we go into the Kur
anda State Park, you can show me what you do.”

  The smile he gave me was as warm as the summer sun.

  My mother sighed. “Oh, I wish you two could stay a little while longer.”

  It was then I looked at the clock. “Oh goodness.” Must I be late for everything? I stood up. “We really should be going.”

  A few short minutes later, we’d said our goodbyes to my brother and sister and their partners, and Mum and Dad walked us out. My mother had her arm linked through Jack’s as they walked ahead of me and Dad. I tried to hear what they talked about, but it was whisper quiet. My dad laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Lawson. He’s fine. Actually, he’s better than fine.”

  I looked at him and stopped walking. I wasn’t aware my father’s approval would hold so much weight. “You think?”

  He laughed and put his arm around me, walking me forward to where Jack and Mum were standing by the front garden gate. “He makes you happy, Lawson. That’s all I need.”

  As we reached them, my mother put her hands to my face. “My dearest Lawson. I’m so happy for you.”

  Oh, bother.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “Young love is a beautiful thing.”

  Sweet heavens above. Thankfully the taxi pulled up, and I briefly considered stepping in front of it, if it would mean my mother would stop humiliating me.

  Jack and my dad loaded our luggage into the boot. Mum kissed my cheek. “He’s wonderful,” she whispered.

  “I know, Mum.”

  Before she could respond with anything equally mortifying to Jack, I stuffed him into the taxi and waved my parents off. When we’d reached the end of the block and I could finally breathe, I took Jack’s hand. “I apologise for anything my mother may have said to you that you felt was inappropriate or too personal. She has no filter when it comes to, well, most anything.”