by Drew Hunt
“Oh look, see that pig fly over next door’s garden shed?” Trevor grumbled as he slumped into his armchair. There were only so many times one could re-organise the kitchen cupboards before it bordered on obsessive compulsive disorder.
He’d had the pleasure of Paul’s company for over two months. The rational part of his brain told him it was a good thing Paul had moved back home when he did. He was becoming all too used to having someone else around the place. Someone to cook and clean for, someone to talk to, someone to laugh and joke around with.
Trevor blinked rapidly, he absolutely refused to shed tears over this. Paul needed to get back to his own place now it was dried out and re-decorated. It was right, proper, good. So why was he missing the guy something fierce?
Even though it wasn’t cold, heck it was well into June, Trevor levered himself to his feet, got out a blanket, stuck on one of Paul’s LPs that he hadn’t taken home yet, and curled up on the sofa. The music was a little too up-beat for his taste and the occasion. Nevertheless Trevor closed his eyes and snuggled into the blanket and tried not to dwell on what could never be.
If he was honest with himself, he knew he shouldn’t have offered his spare room to Paul. After some initial discomfort on Paul’s part, the guy had settled down, his usual kind good-hearted nature shining through. Trevor had to constantly battle with himself not to fall deeply for the man. No matter how kind, gentle, or protective the bloke was, he was also straight. Things got awkward when he had the cancer scare. He needed to lean on someone and Paul had been willing to be that someone.
“As Mum used to say, If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.” The tears came then. Trevor couldn’t stop them. Paul, big, strong, kind, loveable Paul with his blond hair, his well-built body and his dimples. “God, those dimples!” Trevor sniffed.
* * * *
Turning up at work the next morning, Trevor got a few odd looks from his work colleagues. So what if he’d gone back to wearing his out-sized artists’ smocks? Though the brightly coloured garments probably didn’t go with the bags under his eyes.
“You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night,” Trish, his office partner said, taking off her coat and hanging it up. At least she didn’t make any comments about his clothing.
“I had a hot date with a police motorcyclist. He rode me bloody hard until the small hours.”
Trish looked shocked momentarily before bursting out laughing.
“Guess you were celebrating having the house to yourself again.”
“Damn right. I had to put off my regular gentlemen callers when Paul lived with me. I wouldn’t have wanted the creaking bed-springs to keep him awake nights.”
“You’re awful.” Trish shook her head. Trevor knew she didn’t believe a word he was saying, but she was good enough to play along.
“What you smiling about?” Trevor asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Come on, spill it.” Trevor’s grin widened. He could sense something was afoot. “You know how much I love juicy gossip.”
“It’s nothing, honestly.” Trish looked coyly at him.
“Uh, huh.” All he had to do was wait. He knew Trish couldn’t hold out much longer.
“Well, uh, it was just you talking about Paul. He’s so…so—” Trish got a dreamy look on her face.
Trevor quashed his own feelings. He’d had plenty of practice. “Oh?” He giggled, thinking he could have some fun with his friend. “You’ve been carrying a torch for the Planning Manager, then?”
“Oh no. I—” She was flustered. “He’d not look twice at someone like me.”
Trevor immediately felt sorry for Trish. “What do you mean, somebody like me? You’re really pretty.” He was unaccustomed to paying women compliments. “You’re bouncy, uh, sweet.”
“You think so?” She brightened.
“Of course. And I happen to know Paul is free at the moment. His last relationship with Cindy ended, and the one with G…well, uh, that was a non-starter.” Powering up his computer and logging in, Trevor knew he’d probably said too much.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Paul’s a nice man. He deserves to be happy.”
Don’t we all? Trevor thought. Out loud he said, “Have you ever talked to him? I mean not just about work stuff?”
“Oh, no! I’d be too…No.”
Trevor thought if he couldn’t have Paul, then Trish ought to be given as many opportunities as possible to have him.
“Would you like to swap lunch hours? Paul has the same hour as me. You could—”
“Oh no! Trev, I couldn’t.”
* * * *
Taking the later lunch slot had the extra benefit of being able to avoid Paul. Working in the quietness of Trish’s absence, Trevor realised avoidance would be the best policy. Soon enough Paul would move on with his life, his friends and a new girlfriend. If Paul and Trish did make a go of it, would Trevor be able to cope with news about what Trish and Paul had done the previous evening, what Paul had said, what Paul thought about…?
“There you are.”
“Huh?” Trevor’s reverie was interrupted by Paul coming into the office.
“Didn’t see you at lunch. What’s-her-name said you’d swapped lunches. Why?” Paul looked concerned.
Was he also disappointed? You wish, Trevor told himself. “I, uh.” Trevor couldn’t think of what to say.
“Is she, Trish, is she all right? I mean—” Paul blushed. “She seemed a bit, well, obvious.”
“Obvious?” Trevor didn’t have to fake his look of surprise.
“Well, uh, she—she almost—God, this is embarrassing. It was almost as though she was, well, offering herself.” Paul whispered the last two words.
“Really?” Trevor had no idea Trish would go to such lengths, and so quickly. “I wouldn’t know, me being gay.”
“Yeah, well.”
“She’s a nice girl.” Adopting an obviously false parental tone in order to mask his true feelings and intentions, Trevor continued, “You could do a lot worse than set your cap at Patricia, our Paul.”
Paul smiled, even chuckled. For a moment Trevor was carried back to the many evenings the two had just sat and talked. He’d often been so absorbed in their conversations that hours had flown by without either of them seeming to have noticed.
“Oh, hello again,” Trish said, entering the room and immediately zeroing in on Paul.
Was she fluttering her eyelashes? Trevor thought back to Paul’s comment about Trish being obvious.
“Uh, Trish.”
Feeling mischievous, Trevor said, “Paul was just telling me what a great time he had at lunch today.” Trish smiled and Paul frowned. “He was asking me if I knew what sorts of films you liked, weren’t you, Paul?”
“What?” Paul’s frown turned to disbelief.
“Really? Oh.” Trish began to make doe-eyes at Paul. “There’s that romance just come out with him off that American drama show. I’d love to go see that one.”
Did Paul groan?
“There you are, then.” Trevor was undaunted. “I’ve read the reviews. You’ll have to let me know if it’s worth me going to see it,” he said looking at Trish.
“I…Well I’ve got a lot on this week what with me moving back and—”
Trevor was about to offer his help with whatever it was, even though doing so would break his resolution to keep his distance. However, he was saved by Trish’s next comment.
“It’s all right, I could help you. I’m really good at homemaking.”
Paul looked trapped. He managed to escape by muttering something about being late for a meeting before hightailing it out of the office.
As he prepared to take his own lunch, Trevor began to rationalise. Did he feel guilty for what he’d done? Partially, though he was comforted by the knowledge that Trish really was a nice girl, and Paul could do a lot worse.
* * * *
Trevor was just settling down to a late afternoon snack of beans on toast. He�
�d lost all interest in creating anything more elaborate after Paul had left, when the doorbell rang. Expecting a door-to-door salesman or the Jehovah’s Witnesses, he rarely received visitors, Trevor took his time answering. In fact the doorbell had just stopped ringing for a second time when he turned the lock.
“Paul?” Trevor was surprised to see his former housemate.
“Hi, I was just passing and—” Paul seemed nervous, a fact born out by the toe of his left shoe rubbing the doormat.
“Come in. Why’d you ring? Don’t you still have a key?”
“Oh, I didn’t think it was right, not now I don’t live here any more. In fact that was one reason for me coming round. To give you back your key.” He pulled out a bunch of keys and began to fiddle with them.
Trevor was about to tell Paul to keep the key, but then he remembered his decision to maintain his distance. “Thanks. Uh, have you eaten? I was just—”
“No, I haven’t. That smells nice.”
Trevor tossed out the sad looking beans on toast and raided his fridge, coming up with the ingredients for a Spanish omelette.
Pushing away his empty plate, Paul rubbed at his belly. Trevor half expected his table guest to let loose with a deep burp.
“Thank you. I’ve missed your cooking.”
“You’ve been gone less than a week.”
Paul shrugged. “Listen, why’d you set Trish on me? She’s becoming a real pest.”
“Sorry. She’s lonely, I thought you’d be lonely and—” Trevor ground to a halt. “Sorry.”
“I can’t get out of taking her to the pictures this weekend. Have you any idea how boring that film is?” Paul went on to tell how he’d previously sat through the same film with Geraldine.
“Oh, Paul, I really am sorry.” Trevor was. He’d acted impetuously and now regretted it. “I’ll try and calm her down, steer her away from you.”
“No, I think it’s best you leave well alone. Goodness knows what you’d have to tell her.”
“If you had someone else, that’d put her off. Trish is a firm believer in not encroaching on other people’s territory. Whatever happened to Cindy? She seemed like a nice enough woman.”
“Things had sort of grown stale between us, but neither of us seemed to want to call it off. Eventually Cindy did, and I think we’re both happier she did.”
The two moved into the living room and unconsciously took up their usual spots, Trevor in the recliner and Paul on the sofa.
* * * *
Although it tested his new-found resolve—for the next couple of weeks, every time Paul suggested he and Trevor “do something together”—Trevor always managed to come up with an excuse not to go. He could tell Paul was confused, even hurt, but Trevor had to be strong. When Paul had called round that time, he’d ended up feeding him and then kicking back and talking with him, listening to music, etc., and they’d lost track of the time, Paul not leaving until past ten.
Despite his promise not to interfere, Trevor managed to get Trish off Paul’s tail by telling her that Paul was still hung up on his old girlfriend, Cindy. He explained that the break-up, though amicable, was still affecting Paul.
“Maybe I could take his mind off of her,” Trish said.
Trevor could see the cogs turning. “Oh, no,” he was quick to add. “I think Paul’s hoping they’ll get back together. Cindy’s a nice girl, not a patch on you of course, but if those two are destined to be together, then—” Trevor left the rest unsaid. He’d already stretched the facts beyond all recognition and was uncomfortable about deceiving Trish.
Deflated, Trish said, “Yeah, you’re right. I couldn’t live with myself if I stood in the path of destiny.”
Trevor kept his face neutral. He knew Trish consumed paperback romances at an alarming rate, clearly imagining herself as the other woman, a role he knew she’d be uncomfortable with.
“There’s someone out there just perfect for you. Mark my words.”
Trish sighed. “I wish he’d get a move on. The biological clock is ticking.”
Trevor laughed, relieved he’d managed to successfully derail Trish’s master plan to get Paul down the aisle.
“What about you? A man as nice as you oughtn’t to be alone.”
Trevor’s spirits sank. Trish often would jump on this particular band-wagon. “I’m happy as I am. I don’t have to please anyone else, I can do what I want when I want and don’t have to take anyone else into consideration.”
“Bollocks.”
Trevor’s eyebrows rose. “Such language. And here was me thinking you were a nice young lady.”
“Oh, Trev, if only you weren’t gay, I’d have you down the aisle so fast.”
Trevor smiled to himself. Although he’d got the identity of the groom wrong, he was dead on with the marriage thing. Trish was a good friend, but that was as far as it went. He had absolutely no sexual thoughts for Trish, or any woman for that matter.
* * * *
July was hot and humid. Trevor gave serious thought to buying air conditioning, but as he was totally useless as far as do-it-yourself was concerned, he decided to soldier on. He very quickly quashed the idea that Paul would be all too happy to install such equipment if he was asked. Trevor knew he couldn’t go there. His distancing tactics were finally paying dividends. Paul rarely visited him anymore or asked if he was free to go do something together.
Trevor was surprised to get a call one day from Pete asking if he could come round.
“Uh, okay,” Trevor said. He put down the receiver, wondering what on earth Pete wanted.
Ten minutes later Pete arrived. Trevor invited him in and offered him a lager.
“Thanks. This bloody heat is killing me.”
Pete sat down, took off his baseball cap and mopped the sweat off his brow with a paper tissue. As he drank his beer, Trevor watched the muscles move under Pete’s tight sweat-dampened white T-shirt. He had to avert his eyes before Pete caught him staring.
“I know it’s not your thing, but we’re a bowler short this Sunday. Would you reconsider helping us out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Thommo, you know what he’s like. And—” Trevor left unsaid his reluctance to be around Paul.
“I promise Thommo won’t be a problem. Please, mate, you’d be doing me, us, a huge favour.”
Trevor looked into Pete’s imploring eyes. He hadn’t realised what a deep shade of blue they were. And that cute puppy-dog expression.
“Uh, I don’t know. It won’t be a permanent thing, will it? I couldn’t—”
“But you’ll do it?” The look of hope on that face began to crumble away at Trevor’s resolve.
“If it’s just a one off, I might consider it.”
“I can’t lie. We might need you until the end of the season. Jake’s broken his arm and—”
Trevor tried to back-peddle. “I don’t know. I have evensong every Sunday and—”
Pete sighed. “Paul said you wouldn’t do it. In fact, he wouldn’t even bother coming round to ask. That’s why I’m here instead.”
“Oh.”
“You two fallen out? Paul’s been a right misery guts this past month or so.”
“Oh, no, we’ve not fallen out. He, uh, we were never really friends, so once he moved out we sort of got on with our own lives again.”
“Oh, right. I’ve tried asking him what’s the matter but he says it’s nothing. Wondered if it was his break-up with Cindy.”
“Yeah, could be. Look, maybe I can help out till the end of the season. There can’t be that many games left.”
“Really?” That bright smile was back again at full wattage. “Thanks, mate. You’ve saved my life.”
Pete got to his feet. Feeling the conversation was over, Trevor also stood up. To his amazement he was wrapped in a muscular and slightly sweaty hug. The contact caused Trevor to instantly throw wood. Feeling hot, and knowing he was blushing, Trevor backed away and fanned his face. “You shouldn’t tease a poor gay man like that.”
* * * *
Trevor was dismayed at how drawn Paul looked. Thinking back, he was surprised to realise he hadn’t run across him at work for almost two weeks. Although their respective jobs (Paul in planning and Trevor in human resources) meant that unless something unusual cropped up, they wouldn’t have any reason to interact. The canteen during lunch was usually the only place their paths would cross. Trevor had kept to his late lunch schedule. Eating later seemed to suit him better.
“Trev.” Paul offered his former house-mate the ghost of a smile. “I’m surprised Pete managed to talk you into joining us. He must have something I don’t.”
Ouch, Trevor thought as he sat on a nearby bench and began to change into his cricket whites. “He had to twist my arm. Sorry, that’s probably a poor choice of words given what happened to what’s-his-name whose place I’m taking.”
“Jake, yeah.”
The two fell silent, but fortunately other people began to enter the pavilion, so Trevor was saved the chore of trying to make conversation.
Thommo kept his distance and thankfully didn’t voice his homophobic opinions. Part of Trevor was disappointed. He hadn’t had many opportunities to sharpen his tongue recently, and Thommo was such an easy target.
Practice began well. Trevor got a few tips from the other bowlers to smooth out his bowling action. Equally Trevor was able to pass on a few things he’d remembered about finger-spinning.
From what Trevor could see, Paul didn’t fare as well, however. Although he didn’t get an opportunity to bowl at him, he heard several comments from Thommo about Paul’s poor performance. This culminated in a stand-up argument in the middle of the pitch.
“I’ve forgotten more about batsmanship than you’ve ever known,” Paul said angrily.
Trevor had never heard Paul raise his voice, and judging by how everyone else stopped what they were doing, no one else had, either.
“You seem to have fucking forgotten a lot, then. You’ve been bloody crap these past few games.”
“If I’m that bad then I won’t be missed when I don’t show up this Sunday!” Paul threw his bat to the pitch before marching off to the pavilion, a thunderous expression on his face. No one moved. Even Thommo seemed stunned at Paul’s reaction.