by Kris Jacen
So, as is the time-honoured tradition in such sensitive moments, I stuck my tongue out at him.
Adam shook his head. “Whatever. Besides, I suppose you have to take some risks in life.”
And so I did, but with a little more caution. Next time out—in the gay sexual experience sense of the word—I chose somewhere more private, though possibly not more salubrious. See what words I was using by then? I was horny and smart, an unassailable combination. And to my delight, Billy was still in the market. We kept away from his team mates, I worked on finding rhymes for homophobic arseholes (still working on that one, to this day), and our lust found plenty of places to try even more exciting things. Though never anything as heady as that first glorious time I got to put my hand down the front of his shorts.
* * * *
In my final year—accompanied by much eye-rolling shock from both my Chemistry and my Geography teachers—I got an academic place at the local University. Never seen Dad look so pink and happy in his life as when I opened the offer letter. I was excited and proud and arrogantly sure I was on my way up in life.
I just had no idea how lonely it would be.
One Saturday midnight, Adam found me curled up in a shop doorway outside one of the seedier gay student clubs in the town. The rain drizzled down under my open collar, the street lights reflected in the puddles on the pavement, the occasional passing car raised spray from the gutters. It had been a long, miserable night, though I’d stopped specifically counting the hours after too many shots and plenty of blow. Adam stood there for ten silent minutes because I was initially determined not to acknowledge him and his disapproval. I stared at his shoes until my resentment and misery curdled in the pit of my stomach. “What the fuck?” I muttered.
A young woman passing the doorway on her way home started at the sound of my voice and quickly crossed the road.
“Go home,” Adam said.
“Trying,” I muttered. My legs seemed to have been reworked in putty and mis-connected to my hips.
“Pick up your wallet.”
I hadn’t realised I’d dropped it, not that there was much in it to delight anyone else. Four pounds fifty, a discount card to the sandwich bar and a condom that was not-so-rapidly-but-relentlessly going out of date. The journey back to my flat was through a blurred, occasionally psychedelic haze. Took me four attempts to get the key in the lock, then I lost my wallet again, until I saw it on the toilet seat. I grabbed hold of it before it fell in. Then grabbed hold of the seat itself and threw up into the bowl.
Several times.
“Good God.” Adam’s voice sounded strangely tired.
“At least I’m not singing,” I grunted, but wit escaped even me. The misery had become second-nature, a thick, heavy blanket over my heart and hope. I’d been here months, but no one had even tried to guess the truth behind my sharp humour.
“Give this up, Chas. You’re better than this.”
I frowned. “’m fine. Student life, ’n all. ’njoying myself.”
There was a pause in the air as if Adam were considering a suitable response. Glancing around my modest little bathroom, taking it all in: the damp toilet seat, the chipped floor tiles glinting from the harsh fluorescent light over the shaving mirror; my inevitably flushed face and the crusty trail of another cheap takeaway dinner on the front of my shirt. I knew beyond a doubt that he’d seen the emptiness of both my fridge and my phone book.
I leaned back over the bowl and heaved again.
Adam sighed. “I think not.”
I sighed. Bastard was right, of course.
“Find him, Chas. He’s at this University too, isn’t he? Call him up.”
I knew who he meant. Billy Dean had got a sports scholarship to the University as well, but he was the year ahead of me. After he left school, I think we’d exchanged a couple of emails and circulated some stupid jokes at Christmas. Then nothing.
“’s over now. Schoolboy crush.”
Adam’s tone sharpened. “Don’t be a fool. As if you don’t know where he lives, what days he comes on to campus. As if you haven’t always known.”
I glanced up at him, my eyelashes wet. “No secrets from you, eh?”
It was a joke, though feeble, but Adam didn’t smile this time. “No,” he said softly.
I called Billy the next day, the phone shaking slightly in my hand. I laughed too loudly, gabbled too much, but he sounded surprisingly pleased to hear from me. I pitched for the ‘let’s catch up on old times’ sort of tone. Remember the school days, the teachers…?
Behind the sports shed?
I can’t remember if I said it, or he did, and I wasn’t going to ask. But we couldn’t meet fast enough, my shocking eagerness apparently matched by his. That night we fell into his small, lumpy but sweetly clean bed, bare skin sticky, hearts thumping, mouths greedy, his touches raising goose bumps of delight all over me.
We were together from then on.
* * * *
One evening near the end of Billy’s last term, I sat outside the main college building waiting for him to finish a late lecture. The air was cool. Since I’d given up (almost) all my drug vices, including ciggies of all types, I could smell it more clearly, full of early summer promise and the sharp tang of sunlight on rich, fragrant shrubs. I blew on my hands, but it wasn’t really too cold. Besides, Billy was worth the wait.
Adam gave a gentle cough. “You’re good together. You and Billy. Well done.”
I frowned. “You’re always around. All hours of day or night.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more.
“Look. I mean, a guy’s got to have some privacy.” I felt over-warm. “You don’t ever…you know…?”
“Snoop on you and Billy?” He laughed loudly and I was glad no one else was around to see my gaffe. “You stupid arse. Like that’d be any kind of entertainment for me.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, like we were back in school again. But I felt comforted.
When he graduated, Billy mortgaged himself to the eyeballs and took over a local sports shop—his own version of paradise—and we pooled whatever we had left to move into our own flat. I was aiming for a job in journalism and had already been offered a freelance place at the local newspaper. But Billy insisted I finished my course first.
“Why bother? I could leave now and live with you full-time. The money would be great.”
He just shook his head and pushed me back down on the bed to distract me. He was a man of action, not words, like I was. It almost always worked, too. I stayed on to finish my time though the year dragged for me. I sulked, and my degree wasn’t as good as it should have been. But it was enough to get me a job I wanted, on a travel magazine.
Adam encouraged me as well, like he always had. He just seemed to know what was best.
But he didn’t always tell me.
“What do you think I should do?” It was a common whine from me. I stood in our small back yard one evening, six months into my new job and an hour before Billy was due to finish work, watching the day sink into dusk and the midges cluster around the overhanging tree from next door. I wished I still had a smoking habit to concentrate on while I considered the option of a three month contract in the Far East.
And Adam? I was startled to see him shake his head in reply.
“Can’t help. This one’s up to you. It’s your call.”
I frowned. “It’s a great opportunity, I’m still new to this job but they think I can do it. But three months away from home…what’s Billy going to say?” Adam just looked at me. Fuck it, I knew he knew what I was really thinking. “I’m not sure we can cope with it.”
Adam frowned. “If you’re not sure of what you have by now, Chas, you don’t deserve it.”
“Fuck you,” I said, though even my anger was confused.
He stared at me. It was one of his looks, one I’d grown to recognize over the years, the one that said I was being a dick. Which, of course, I was—but I didn’t see
why he was always pointing it out.
“So okay. I’ll sort things out myself.” The harsh words spat from me, intentionally cruel. “Why the hell I think I need your advice every fucking step, I don’t know. Breathing over my shoulder, patronizing me like we were back at school, living my fucking life like you want it for your own—”
No point to my diatribe. I’d gone too far, but there was no point to an apology, either. Adam had gone.
I waited, but he didn’t come back. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so bad, even in the days before I found Billy again.
When I finally plucked up courage that night and told Billy I wanted to take the contract, the mood was even more sober than it should have been. But—like I’m sure Adam would have told me if he’d wanted to—Billy agreed I should do it, that I should be proud to be considered. That we’d weather the separation, like we had before, and he’d still be here while I was away. Also when I came back. As, of course, I would! I’d been stupid to doubt it; to doubt us. Shockingly grateful for his constant love, I gave him everything I had in bed that night, until he was slippery with sweat and gasping for astonished, ecstatic breath.
Then I lay awake for hours after, while he snored gently and guiltlessly beside me.
“Adam?” I felt stupid whispering into my bedroom.
“Hmmmh.” Billy stirred sleepily, then settled back into his pillows.
I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot into our kitchen. I made hot chocolate, just like Mum used to make me when I couldn’t sleep. I slumped at the kitchen table, hugging the mug with my hands, breathing in the fragrant steam.
“Adam?” He was there. Thank God. “Sorry. I was a dick.”
“Yeah,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me. “You were.”
I sneaked a look at him out of the corner of my eye. Wondered whether he’d take it as the usual joke if I stuck my tongue out at him. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.” He was smiling. “But you wish you hadn’t said it. That’ll do for me.”
I sat for a while in silence, smiling and sipping the too-hot drink. And that’s when I decided it was stupid to go on pretending. I turned slowly to stare at him, at the wisdom in his bright eyes, at the knowledge and friendship in his steady gaze. At the kid who came and went at will, without me ever noticing how it was done. At the face that hadn’t changed for over ten years.
“Who are you, Adam? What are you?”
He wasn’t embarrassed or startled. He didn’t bluster, either. “I’m what you’ve needed. I’m part of your life. Part of you.”
“The better part?” I grimaced.
He laughed, but now I knew I didn’t have to worry about Billy hearing him. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here for you. You need me. It works for us both.”
I stared into the swirling, rich brown liquid, avoiding his gaze. “Couldn’t have got here today without you.” I sounded hoarse.
Adam didn’t answer but relaxation stole through me, warm and caressing, like the chocolate drink itself.
“Billy and me… you know? We don’t bother saying it. You know. It.”
“You don’t need to.” Adam laughed softly. “But for a journalist, you have a damned clumsy way with words sometimes.”
When I looked up to protest, raw from exposing my soul, flushed from knowing he didn’t need anything explained anyway…
He’d gone again. But this time, it didn’t feel like abandonment.
* * * *
I didn’t see Adam for a while after that. Life was busy for both Billy and me, so I wasn’t conscious of loss. The Far East job went well and they gave me my own features column. I travelled some more, but I made a point of never being away for too long. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t doubt Billy— or even me, for that matter— but it felt better to be at home.
Home. God. I was turning into the parents. It made me smile to myself.
I was pleased they coped with a son and son, rather than the more common heterosexual relationship. Mum blushed when Billy was affectionate with me, but she’d probably have been the same if I had a cute girl in tow. And Dad enjoyed having someone to talk football with.
The shop did well and Billy started sponsoring some local school teams. People came to ask his advice about sport in the community; about links to national clubs and funding projects for facilities. Sometimes I stood on the sidelines when he was coaching, trying to separate the offside rule from various other arcane black magic rituals, and wondering when I could take another nip from my hipflask without the kids seeing.
They were young and enthusiastic. They glowed with it. Had we been like that?
Then I’d look at Billy, and know he still was. It was both an exhilarating and deeply comforting feeling. And it made me want to slide my hand down inside his shorts again, like the first time. There was a sports shed at the far side of the field, too. When he came over at half time and asked why I was laughing, I had to censor my reply from too-teenage ears.
I probably wasn’t as fit as Billy—actually, I knew damned well I wasn’t, despite keeping the six-pack toned with some easy gym routines—and after one weekend at a couple more football tournaments, I slept more heavily than usual. When I stirred, my limbs felt lazy, my vision still fogged. The bedroom was dark apart from the glimmer of a streetlight from outside, sneaking in through the blind. Can’t have been much past midnight.
Adam was beside the bed.
“Hrmpphh,” I muttered in way of a greeting.
“Wake up,” he said. “Properly.”
I pulled myself clumsily up to sitting. I didn’t bother asking him to whisper. “I seem to remember you saying you weren’t going to go all voyeur on me and Billy, you know.”
He didn’t laugh, which was the first worry. Even though we hadn’t been around each other for a while, no one had ever laughed at my lame jokes like Adam did.
“Chas, you need to get him to hospital.”
I stared at his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Who?”
“Good God.” The phrase had always seemed very old from his young mouth, but now it sounded pained as well. “Billy, of course.”
It was late, right? I was still only half awake. That’s the only excuse I had for turning slowly and aimlessly to stare at Billy, asleep in the bed beside me. For not understanding what the hell Adam was going on about. “What do you mean? He’s fine.” Billy had spent the day running up and down the pitch, yelling encouragement, finding praise for every single boy or girl, returning good natured smiles at the parents watching proudly from the wings. Especially the single mothers who simpered shamelessly at him…
“Chas? Listen to him.”
I did. Carefully. Billy had always been an intermittent breather, worse when he had a cold, but that was nothing sinister. Was it?
An hour later, I was sitting huddled at his hospital bedside, watching him in carefully regulated sleep, a monitor recording his heartbeat and checking it for any irregularity. The room was over-heated while the corridors were slightly chilly and very quiet. But it was late, wasn’t it? I thought I’d said that before—or thought it, at least.
It wasn’t too late for Billy, thank God. The doctor had been very cheery. That type of arrhythmic breathing was a common symptom, apparently. He must have seen the panic in my face, though, because he hurried on to explain he didn’t mean serious heart or lung disease. No, they’d taken tests and would do an ECG, but Billy’s lungs were fine, his body still young and healthy. It was probably an early symptom of an overactive thyroid, something like that.
“Something like what?”
The doctor had given me that professionally reassuring smile they must practice in the mirror during medical training. The condition could be treated with drugs, it wouldn’t necessarily develop into anything more overt. No, Billy may not have to give up all his sport, or—his leer at me looked thoroughly suspicious—anything else requiring strong physical exertion. But I’d done the right thing, alerting them quickly. I should
just keep my eye on things for the time being.
I stared at Billy, swaddled in the smooth white sheets, and I thought I’d probably never take my eye off him again in my life.
“It wasn’t his time, Chas. He’s okay now. It’s all under control.”
I smiled at the sound of Adam’s voice, even his scolding. No one had ever known me so well. It would have been good to feel his hand on my shoulder, but it wasn’t as if I needed the touch to know he was there. “You’ve been away, haven’t you? Lucky you chose tonight to come back.”
He laughed softly. “Lucky, yes, maybe. But I have other places to go, you know.”
“Other people to snoop on?” I laughed in echo. The sound faded underneath the blip of the monitor. It was reassuring now, rather than frightening as it had been at first. I’d hardly ever been in hospital myself. Never seen anyone really ill. Never imagined that someone I loved might be at risk…
“Chas, believe me. He’ll be fine.”
“I believe you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
There was a companionable silence for a while. I glanced down at my shirt to find I’d mis-buttoned it in my haste to get out of the house and into the ambulance. I fiddled with one of the buttons, but I didn’t bother re-fastening it. “Are you leaving again now?”
Adam moved so he was in my line of sight, and I could look at him as well as Billy. “Soon.”
I nodded. I’d never felt so tired myself, but it was exhaustion born of relief.
I rested my head on the pillow beside Billy and slept.
* * * *
Billy woke properly around breakfast time the next day. He gave a disgustingly robust yawn and glanced over at me. I sat in the chair, leaning on the side of the bed. I’d been drowsing and drawing warmth from him, watching the way his muscles tensed every time he took a deep, nurturing, normal breath.
“You look…” I couldn’t think of the right word, if indeed, it existed. “Good.”