Stevie looked down at the table. I watched from a distance. I had never seen him lose control, though I remembered him slamming his hand into the bus stop not long before. Why hadn’t that alarmed me? Because I’d been flattered by his anger, no doubt. But this mood was new and very disconcerting. I saw him attempting to seem calm, forcing his features to stay in place. He passed his hand over his face and hair once or twice, a gesture that I knew well from the past. I suddenly thought: it’s like we’re scientists poking an insect in a bottle with some sort of stick.
“What about you?” he said in an almost bored voice, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I applied for a visa, yeah.”
“We’re going to San Francisco,” Paul said. “They have new HIV treatments there. It’s a chance to start again and I’ve thought it over for months. Cathy needs a change as well. She’s not happy here.”
“But she’s not happy anywhere!” Stevie snapped. He was twisting his hands. “Still, it doesn’t surprise me. Cathy latches on to people and follows them to the ends of the earth.” He turned to me. “Have you really thought this through? What happens when he falls ill?”
Paul’s face tightened. “That’s my business. And Cathy’s.”
“Oh, this is priceless!” Stevie sneered. “Now you’re willing to play nurse to a dying man. God, you are flexible, aren’t you? That role doesn’t sit well on you, Cathy, you’re not up to it. And it’s not fair on him to pretend that you are.”
I was shaking and I felt myself sweating: a dreadful cold sweat that seemed to permeate my bones.
“I’m not at all close to dying yet,” Paul said stubbornly. “And Cathy is strong. We both are.”
“You’re both fools,” Stevie said. “But you’re the worst.” He was glaring at me. “You’re so fucking predictable. Then you’ll expect me to bail you out. And you won’t think it’s a lot to ask. You have no idea how much I’ve had to run your life for you. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?” It was as if my father’s voice was speaking through him suddenly, attacking me, reducing me to nothing.
“It seems that you couldn’t live here on your own,” I heard myself say. “Actually I’m quite good at being by myself. I’ve spent most of my life like that, if you remember. You’re the one who’s always had to have other people. Sorry if I’m taking Paul away from you...”
I trailed off, frightened.
“Get out,” Stevie said to Paul. “I want to speak to her alone.”
Paul looked at me and I nodded, though I didn’t know why. I was afraid that I had said too much, that Stevie would turn on me now and rip away all of my illusions about myself, revealing me for just who I was. Paul got up slowly and wandered away.
We stared at each other. The fluorescent light glared down, exposing our faces. I could tell Stevie had a headache from the way he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry I took Paul in if this is the result,” Stevie said. His voice was flat and stony. His eyes, heavy-lidded, seemed soulless to me all of a sudden.
“You knew Paul had to leave. I don’t understand— ”
“Yes, but I thought he’d go alone! It’s just insufferable to me that you’d irresponsibly throw your fate in with his. Don’t you know how it’ll end for him? Dying in the AIDS ward of some public hospital over in San Francisco. Penniless. That’s how he began, with nothing. He knows that’s how he’ll end up, wherever he is. But you think you can interfere. You don’t know when to let go, do you?”
“No, you don’t,” I said firmly. “Don’t see my leaving as some kind of slap in the face. How can you expect me to stay here with you and Ron? What is there for me here? Nothing. And I don’t really think there’s that much for you, frankly. I don’t think you’re as happy as you let on.”
“Shut up,” he said.
“No, I won’t, sorry. And if you think it was a mistake picking Paul up, you’re wrong. It was the only altruistic thing you ever did.”
He said nothing, slowly turning the stem of his wine glass.
“So don’t regret it.”
He shrugged with a terrible weariness. “Oh, who cares? You think it was pure altruism? That’s nice. Stupid. Typical of you.”
I stared at him. The insults flew past me. What I was most interested in was the feeling that he was crumbling, revealing himself for the first time since I’d arrived in England. I still wasn’t sure I could bear to hear it.
“So...” I began uncertainly. “You were lonely, yeah, but that’s understandable— ”
“No, it wasn’t even that.” Stevie spoke softly and almost aimlessly, his eyes fixed on some distant point, not me. “I wanted him, of course. That was futile. I mean, he would have slept with me out of gratitude, which wouldn’t have been worth anything. I just hoped that some day, despite all the risks, we could be lovers. I didn’t care. But then I realized that I couldn’t go through with it. Ron was coming. I just couldn’t make that commitment to someone who was probably going to die in a few years. I mean, he held off getting the diagnosis, but I knew. And he doesn’t love me.” He paused for a long time and I did not speak either. I couldn’t.
“But he loves you,” Stevie resumed. “Isn’t that strange? Isn’t that fucking incredible when you come to think of it. You’ve achieved that, anyway. Oh, what am I saying? I’m not a good loser, am I?” He laughed briefly. “Jealousy is an evil thing, isn’t it? You should know, you’re the expert.”
I shook my head. For some reason I turned on the tap and began to run water into the sink. As I did so a faint memory surfaced. We stood by the sink together ... but now my hands were warm, and as I looked at Stevie I felt more pity than anything. I was his equal now, though no doubt our positions would reverse again. And it gave me no pleasure to see him sitting at the table with bowed head.
“Why don’t you come too, Stevie?” I asked. “We’d love you to. I hope you know that.”
He gazed at me, blinking slightly. “To San Francisco?”
“Yeah, why not? If you really want to, why not? Otherwise you’ll just worry too much about us, won’t you?” I was trying to make the situation lighter. He managed a faint smile.
“Well, maybe some day.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Don’t rule it out.”
“Will you have enough money?” he asked in a low voice. “What about your Leaving results? What do I tell mum and dad? How can I explain what’s happened?”
He seemed almost tearful now. I looked at him thoughtfully.
“Stevie, they’ll react better if it comes from you. They trust you. You can phone me with the Leaving results but I doubt I’ll come back.”
“Unless you’re deported,” he muttered.
“Yeah, unless I’m kicked out. I’ll apply for a green card when I’m over there. Maybe I’ll win the lottery.”
He didn’t respond.
“The green card lottery, I mean,” I explained. “It’s the luck of the draw. Maybe I’ll be lucky. At least I know where I’m going. And I know that I want to go.”
“You are lucky, then,” Stevie said in a deadened voice. He lit a cigarette without noticing it, it seemed: his fingers moved so automatically.
The front door slammed. We both waited for Ron to enter the room. He did so cheerfully, his face smiling and relaxed. He tensed when he saw me and his smile faded.
“Having a nightcap?” he asked Stevie. His voice sounded odd and rather brittle.
“Yeah,” Stevie said. “Here’s to you.” He raised the glass and drank.
Ron flushed, staring at him. Then he turned to me.
“Well, I see you’ve had your usual effect.”
I smiled. There seemed nothing else to do.
“She has good news for you,” Stevie said to Ron. “She’s leaving. With Paul. For America.”
Ron sat down abruptly.
“When was this decided?”
“Don’t ask me,” Stevie told him. “I wasn’t i
n on it.”
Ron nodded. “Well, that’s great,” he said to me. “That’s probably a sensible decision.”
“I told you it was good news,” said Stevie mirthlessly.
We all stayed silent. The silence grew and grew. I stood by the sink. Ron and Stevie sat across from each other. Stevie lit another cigarette. The room was filling up with smoke. Ron was waiting for Stevie to grill him about his evening, I saw. He had expected to be the center of attention as he entered. They both seemed deflated, uncertain of each other.
“I’ll lend you some money,” Stevie said to me. “You’ll need it, you know.”
“OK, thanks,” I said, after a moment. “I’m going to bed now.”
“Goodnight,” Stevie said without looking at me.
“Goodnight,” Ron chimed in. He was staring at Stevie anxiously.
I moved out of the room. As I passed the sitting-room I knocked on the door. I couldn’t help it.
“Come in,” Paul said.
I wandered in. It was dark in the room except for Paul’s bedside light, which seemed to illuminate the area around his sofa but not much more. He was looking at an atlas.
“This is where we’re going to go,” he said, tracing his finger across the page. “From here to here.”
“Paul, do you think it can possibly work?” I asked.
I knelt down by him. He reached over and stroked my hair, a bit hesitantly at first.
“I like your hair,” he said. “It’s nearly the same color as mine. We could be brother and sister. That’s what Tom said when he first saw you. Is that your sister? No, I said, that’s Cathy. But I felt like saying, yeah, she’s my Irish sister. That would’ve thrown him for a loop.”
“It’s true,” I murmured. “I look a lot more like you than I do Stevie. I’m more like you all around. Except my voice.”
“You don’t have my ugly voice,” Paul said. He seemed especially gentle tonight. He couldn’t have known what it did to me.
“This evening has been a nightmare,” I said shakily.
“I know.”
“I don’t feel guilty now, but maybe I will in time. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I haven’t either for once.”
“We really hurt him,” I said. “I didn’t know... I mean, could you see he cared that much?”
“I knew it’d be rough on him, yeah.”
That was all that he would say. He knows, of course, I thought to myself. You always know when someone’s in love with you.
I could be in love with him too, I mused. He had opened another book and was leafing through it.
“Look, there’s the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Yeah,” I said.
But I’m not sure whether I am or not. I need him, though. And he needs me.
“We’ll find an “apartment,”” Paul said, stressing the American word, “with some other riffraff ...”
“Other flotsam and jetsam like us, you mean?”
“Yeah, other lowlifes.” He laughed. “Nah, that’s not being fair on you.”
“So will these other types be gay ... or straight?” I asked him.
“Oh, I dunno. They could be a mixture. As long as they leave us alone.” He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes. So no fraternizing with the others, then?”
“Not for me. But we’ll find you a girl, if you want.”
“Oh, don’t bother,” I said.
“Or a boy.”
“No, that’d be even worse.”
“A girl, then,” Paul said with a smile.
* * *
Stevie went with us to the airport 10 days later, despite my assurances that he didn’t have to. It was a curious leave-taking. I was going away with someone whom I did not know very well. I knew where I was headed but not exactly how things would be once we got there. That would come, I told myself. In time. I felt better and stronger already. Stevie didn’t seem to have much to say. As we stood in the British Airways queue waiting to check our luggage, it was hot and crowded and we were all sweating and thirsty.
“The fucking line’s not moving,” Stevie complained. He was restless, jumpy.
“I’ll go get something for us. Back in a sec,” Paul volunteered.
Stevie had taken my passport, my green Irish passport that had so few stamps in it. It was the same one that I’d taken to England four years before on the school trip, with my childish, bespectacled face staring plaintively out of the first page.
“You’re so young here,” Stevie said. “The next one you’ll get, you’ll be a woman.”
“I haven’t changed all that much,” I said.
He handed me back the passport. “I hate goodbyes, don’t you?”
“You’ll see me again. I’ll ring you when we get a phone number. It might be a while. We’re staying at a hostel on Folsom Street for the first week or so.” I felt like I was babbling.
“Just don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he said suddenly. “God, I sound idiotic, don’t I? Maybe you’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll land on your feet like I did.”
I patted him on the shoulder, as if to say “don’t worry.”
“I’m sorry, Stevie,” I blurted out. “For the way this has happened. We sprung this on you. It wasn’t right.”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry too. For everything... I wish I believed that I’d been a good influence on you.”
“What?” I said uncomfortably. “Don’t be silly. I’m OK. Believe me, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Stevie said. “That’s all I can say. It’s not much, I know.”
“Yes it is.” I punched him lightly on the arm. “Of course it is.”
He looked sad, unconvinced, as he stared off into space. Once again I thought, he’s lost. And I’ve won. But I pushed that idea away. He would always be my older brother, stronger, more attractive, less fearful than I.
Everything is strange today, I thought. Saying goodbye to Stevie. The clogged airport itself. Time was stretching out almost endlessly. We had moved only a couple of feet in about fifteen minutes. But I had the sense that very soon things would begin to move quickly for me and I would have to react to that. I wondered if I would be able to do it.
“I can’t believe I’m leaving,” I said to him. “Is it unreal for you too?”
“No, it’s real,” Stevie said with a faint, ironic smile. “And as they say, Cathy, it’s been real.”
I fell silent, feeling that we had said enough. We turned and watched as Paul came towards us, smiling, carrying three ice creams. He was light on his feet, like a cat, as he’d said to me once. We all stood close together amid the crowd of stony-faced international travelers, devouring our chocolate and vanilla cones like impatient kids. God, they were good! It was as if things had sweetness and flavor again. I caught Stevie’s eye and we both grinned, thinking perhaps of our innocent childhood excursions to the Zoo where ice cream was always our shared treat. The air crackled between us with a strange, nervous energy.
“Don’t you two dare ever lose touch with me,” Stevie said, putting his arms gently around our shoulders. I wondered if he wanted to caress Paul’s face, he was looking at him with such intensity. Or perhaps he wanted to kiss him.
Just as I was about to suggest that they could take a few minutes alone together, the line began to move, and we followed. My heart started beating faster; I couldn’t believe that I would actually be permitted to do this, to fly off to America on a big jet, with Paul. It was the biggest risk I’d ever taken in my life, but at least it was my own choice, not something foisted upon me.
It’s Stevie’s turn now, I thought. His turn to say goodbye to me. My turn to leave.
I couldn’t help smiling quietly to myself. It felt right.
###
Author's Note--Thanks for reading!
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The Leaving Page 26