by Drew Hunt
“Get out of the bloody way.”
Kevin heard Terry pushing Peter aside before charging into the room, ripping the blankets from him, picking him up and shaking him violently. Kevin’s limp body rolled with the gyrations, his teeth rattling, his head lolling from side-to-side.
“You fucking stupid little fool,” Terry yelled, continuing to shake Kevin’s unresisting form. “How the hell could you? How could you?” Terry’s shouts dissolved into sobs. He ceased his shaking and crushed Kevin to his chest. “Oh God, Kevin.”
It took Kevin’s brain a few moments to work out what was going on. Once it did, Kevin, too, began to sob loudly. He clung to Terry, tearing at his outer clothing, desperately trying to climb inside him, seeking comfort, warmth and safety.
“How many tablets have you taken?” Kevin heard Peter asking over the combined noise of his and Terry’s crying.
Kevin shook his head in the negative, too upset to form words to reply.
“It’s all right, love. It’s all right,” Terry said, sniffing back his tears. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”
Eventually Kevin’s emotions settled down to an occasional snuffle.
“Why?” Peter asked, looking concernedly at his friend.
“I don’t have anything to live for.”
“I take it that fucking bastard dumped you?” Peter’s face twisted in anger.
Nodding, Kevin felt himself losing control again.
“I knew he wasn’t right for you. Blokes like that, they’re no good…they just—”
“Shut up!” Terry said. “He doesn’t need to hear this now.”
Kevin started to wail, “I gave him everything, everything, but it wasn’t enough. It hurts, it just hurts so much.”
“Shush,” Terry soothed.
“Come on.” Peter said. “You’re coming home with us…we’ll try and get you in at the doctor’s later, maybe he can get you referred back to that psychiatrist.” Peter started to gather up the pills.
“No,” Kevin said, sniffling. He didn’t know if he could face all that invasive questioning again.
“You don’t have a choice, Kev,” Terry said, rubbing Kevin’s back.
“I’ll be okay.” Secretly he hoped he’d be able to gather up enough courage for a second attempt.
“Nope.” There was finality in Terry’s voice. “You’re not in any state to be left alone.”
“I’m okay.” Kevin knew he didn’t sound convincing.
Cupping Kevin’s face in his hands, Terry said, “You’re not, love. And can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t try to top yourself again?”
Kevin dropped his eyes. “No,” he whispered.
“Right, I’ve packed a few things. Is there anything else you think you might need?”
Kevin turned to face Peter, who was holding a small suitcase. He’d been too preoccupied to realise his friend had been tidying his room.
“Don’t think so.” Kevin’s brain was full of mush; he couldn’t focus on making decisions. Fortunately such things were Peter’s forte. Kevin gave his friend a weak smile. “Thanks. I—”
“Come here,” Peter pulled Kevin into a hug.
Kevin was surprised. Peter wasn’t the hugging sort.
“You’re my best friend. Though I don’t always show it, I love you so much, and you need your friends round you right now.”
“Thanks.” Kevin couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Placing a soft kiss to the top of Kevin’s head, Terry said, “And I love you, too. Now let’s get out of this place.”
After helping Kevin dress, Terry wrapped one of his meaty arms around Kevin’s shoulders, and led the smaller man out of the room, down the stairs and towards their car. Terry gave the keys to Peter before climbing into the back seat with Kevin, leaning over him to fasten his seatbelt and spreading a travel rug over the two of them.
As he was driven through the streets, the morning sun occasionally peeking between the gaps in the buildings, Kevin looked at his two friends. Maybe I can make it with their help.
* * * *
Joey was awoken early Saturday morning by someone pounding on his door and ringing his doorbell. Blearily, he made his way along the hallway, remembering at the last minute he was completely naked.
“Hang on a minute!” he yelled before padding back to his bedroom for his dressing gown.
His sister, wearing a sourer than usual expression greeted him when he unlocked the door. “I’ve been trying to telephone you for the last couple of hours!” she said pushing past him.
“Huh?” Joey rubbed at his eyes, wondering what she wanted at such an early hour.
When Joey had come home the previous night, he’d been met by the phone ringing off its cradle. He’d had a fair idea of who was calling. The instrument always managed to take on an added shrillness whenever his mother wanted to speak with him. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to listen to her disapproving words without yelling something he’d later regret, he’d decided to take the coward’s way out and unplugged the phone.
“After your little display at mum and dad’s last night,” Carole said over her shoulder as she walked down his hall and entered his living room. “I had to take our Simon home. I got up a couple of hours ago to check on him.”
“How touchingly maternal,” Joey responded to her retreating back.
Carole spun on her heel and spat, “You’ve no bloody room to talk. After what you did to him yesterday.”
Joey was angry, but he couldn’t deny the truth of his sister’s words. “So why are you here telling me this?”
“Because when I went into Simon’s room, it was empty.”
Joey froze. It took his sleepy, hung-over brain a couple of moments to process the information. “Have you contacted his friends to see if he’s with any of them?”
“Those I know about, yes, but nobody has seen him.”
“You don’t even know who half his friends are, do you?” he said, raising his voice, causing his headache to worsen.
“Shut up.”
“Is there any bloody wonder he doesn’t want to go to Israel with you,” Joey said just before Carole delivered a slap to his right cheek.
Joey stared unblinkingly at his sister, seconds away from striking her. Summoning up the remainder of his self-restraint, he turned his back to Carole and walked into his bedroom, telling her he would get dressed.
Once outside his building, Joey shivered. It was below freezing. A light sleety rain was falling, which added to the chill. Momentarily closing his eyes, Joey prayed Simon was holed up somewhere safe and warm.
Turning to Carole, he asked, “Where have you looked?”
“I called his friend Bobby’s house, I went round the park as well as the school grounds. I don’t know where he usually hangs out.”
Joey opted not to make a sarcastic comment. “Does mum know he’s missing?”
“Yes, and she blames you.”
Oh fuck! Joey groaned to himself.
“Okay. I’ll get the bike out and go and have a ride round.” Turning up the collar on his spare leather jacket he added, “I just hope he’s not out in this lot.”
“I hope so, too,” They began to walk towards the garages. “I know I haven’t been the best of mothers. I suppose some women ought never to have kids, and…”
“Yeah.” Joey bit back the rest of what he’d intended to say. It wasn’t the right time for recriminations. He put an arm around Carole’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. He knew, deep down, she loved her son, but she wasn’t the type to ever show affection. This was borne out when she stiffened at his touch.
Sliding the key into the lock on the garage door, Joey found to his surprise it was open. He’d come home in such an emotional state the previous night, he realised he must have forgotten to lock up. After pulling the metal door upwards, the creaking springs sounding loud in the otherwise still air, Joey walked into the garage’s interior, smelling faintly as it always did of motor-oil an
d metal polish. However, something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. Reaching to his right, he switched on his torch. Training the beam along the shelves, he saw everything was as it should be. Deciding he’d made a mistake, he was about to switch off the torch when his attention was drawn to something in the far corner.
His heart beating faster, Joey made for the lump of rags and tore away the top couple of layers. “Simon!”
Carole was instantly at his side. “Is it him, is he okay?”
Joey touched his nephew’s reddened cheek, it felt unnaturally cold. Simon’s head moved, his eyes opened and looked directly up into Joey’s face, squinting at the intense light from the torch.
Joey was filled with guilt. It was his fault the lad had run away, had almost died of exposure. It was his fault, his fault! Dropping the torch, Joey scooped Simon up from the dirty concrete floor and hugged him fiercely. As he ran from the garages back towards the lighted foyer of his block of flats, he felt Simon’s small body shivering.
“It’s all right, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
“I’m sorry for running away, Uncle Joey. I didn’t wanna…” His words were difficult to understand due to his chattering teeth.
“It’s okay, love. I promise it’ll all be okay.”
“You had me worried. What the hell did you think you were doing running away like that? I’ve been traipsing all over the bloody place looking for you!” Carole panted, trying to keep up with her brother as he carried Simon up the stairs.
What kind of a fucking mother is she? How the hell can she be mad at him? Joey thought as he turned round to glower at Carole, her sour expression back in full force. If Joey’s arms hadn’t been full, he’d have slapped that look right off of her face. Instead he barked, “Just shut the hell up, I don’t want to hear it!” Joey knew most of his anger was caused by guilt. The last thing he could cope with was hearing Carole’s irritating squawks.
Pushing open the door to his flat, Joey headed straight for the bathroom, intent on giving Simon a lukewarm bath. As he stripped the boy’s clothing and lowered him into the water, Joey knew he would kill, move heaven and earth, to make sure his nephew always remained safe. Simon would never feel frightened, alone or abandoned ever again. The eight-year-old was the closest thing Joey would ever get to having a son of his own. Looking down into the scared but still trusting eyes of the vulnerable boy, Joey realised he’d made a decision. He would have to put Simon’s needs before Kevin’s. He would have to choose Simon over Kevin. A shot of ice water ran through his veins. The thought of abandoning his lover made Joey ill, but he didn’t think he had any other choice.
* * * *
Waking to knocking and doorbell ringing on Monday morning, Joey’s hung-over brain was alert enough to register a sense of déjà vu.
As he padded barefoot down the hallway, tying his dressing gown around his waist, Joey wondered who wanted him this time. He hoped it wasn’t his mother, he doubted he could face her yet, even though he was certain she’d have been told by Carole that he’d agreed to take Simon.
Opening the door, Joey was met by a fist slamming into his nose, the force of the blow sending him to the carpet. Lifting a hand to his nose, Joey felt a growing pool of warm sticky liquid spreading across his face.
“You fucking bastard!”
Joey looked up at his attacker, who appeared to be almost as wide as the doorframe. Stunned, it took him a few seconds to work out the man’s identity. “Terry.”
“Yeah,” The man said, massaging his bruised knuckle. “I thought you ought to know where I’ve just been.”
“Uh?” Joey wondered if the dim-witted moron had flipped his lid.
“Peter and me had to take Kev to the doctor’s, ’cause he tried to top himself.”
Joey, who had started to get to his feet in order to retaliate, slumped back to the carpet and stared in open-mouthed horror up at Terry. “Is he…” Joey couldn’t finish the question.
Kevin, his little lover, the man who meant more to him than… Joey winced when he realised he’d disproved that thought by choosing Simon instead of him.
“He’s okay, no thanks to you. We got there before he’d swallowed any of the pills.”
“Thank God,” Joey whispered. His thoughts galloped. How could he have wanted to kill himself? Then he remembered what life had been like for Kevin before he’d come along. How needful Kevin was, how unable he was to stand up for himself. Joey thought he’d done a good job of building Kevin up, making him stronger, more self-reliant. Obviously he hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped. “But he seemed okay, well, not okay but… he didn’t burst out crying or anything,” Joey said, getting up, only to have Terry push him back down.
“He told Peter and me that he managed to hold it together while you were there, but he lost it once you left.” Terry’s expression hardened, Joey thought he was going to thump him again. “Kev gave you everything he had. And you took it. Hell, you even made him call you ‘sir,’ that’s so fucking sick! ’Cause let me tell you, mate, you’re not fucking worthy of even licking Kev’s boots.”
“I…” Joey tried to deny it, but Terry was right.
“Kev’s gonna come and live with us. We love him and we’re not ashamed to let anybody know it. You’ve really done a fucking number on him. It took us hours to talk him down. He blames himself, you know?”
Joey looked up.
“He thinks you tossed him away because he wasn’t good enough, he says he never deserved to have someone like you love him. I was so fucking mad when he said that, I’d have fucking ripped your fucking head off if you’d have been there. You’re the one what’s no good, it’s you who don’t deserve someone like Kev.”
Terry’s words hurt far greater than any physical blows ever could. “I’m sorry. Please, please tell him I’m sorry. I…Tell him I love him.”
How could he have destroyed such a beautiful, gentle, loving person? Joey shivered as the full impact of what he’d done began to dawn on him. It was his fault. He’d almost killed Kevin.
“God, you’re fucking pathetic!” Terry hawked up a mouthful of saliva and spat it into Joey’s face. “You stay the fuck away from him, even at work. Otherwise I’ll give you far more than a fucking bloody nose. You’re out of his life, shit-head, he’s got no use for a fucking lowlife like you.”
“No, please!” Joey opened his eyes, but made no attempt to wipe away Terry’s spittle. “I do love him.”
“Yeah, right. You chucking him away when the going got tough sure sounds like love to me.” Bending down and staring menacingly into Joey’s face, Terry spoke slowly but deliberately. “Just stay the fuck away from him from now on.”
Joey could only nod weakly. If he had to keep his distance to stop Kevin from hurting, then that’s what he’d have to do.
* * * *
The nights were definitely the worst. Lying in his bed, unable to sleep, Joey would replay all that had happened, desperately wishing he could turn back the clock and do things differently. Why the hell hadn’t he done the right thing? He was meant to be Kevin’s rock, his protector, the one whom Kevin was supposed to be able to rely on. And what had he done when the first real test of their relationship had come along? Terry had been right. He’d fucking done a runner, taken the easy way out. Why the hell hadn’t he had the courage to stand up to his mother? If he’d have only told her that, yes, of course, he’d look after Simon, nothing would give him greater pleasure, but she would have to realise her only son was gay, a feygele, and was in love with the sweetest, kindest little bloke in the world.
Joey would hug his pillow, a lousy substitute for Kevin’s smooth and warm body. Every time he closed his eyes, he would be visited by images of the vacant and resigned look on Kevin’s face when he was told they couldn’t remain together. Never did Joey think Kevin would attempt to kill himself because of the news.
Joey fared little better during daylight hours. The run up to Christmas was a
lways frantic in the haulage industry. Customers couldn’t seem to get enough stock to keep the voracious Christmas shoppers satisfied. Joey took as much overtime as the rules would allow. While ever he was behind the wheel, he was able to push his troubles to the back of his mind.
What little free time remained, Joey spent decorating and refurbishing the spare room in preparation for Simon’s arrival. When Simon had been told of his uncle’s change of heart, the boy had jumped for joy. His rejoicing had at least proven he hadn’t suffered any lasting effects from being out of doors for those few hours.
Simon had begged to be allowed to move in straight away. Joey managed to put his nephew off by telling him he needed a few days to get his new room ready.
“I don’t mind, Uncle Joey, I could help you.”
“No, Champ, you’ve got to spend time with your mum while she’s still in the country.”
“Suppose so,” Simon had sulked. Joey couldn’t blame the lad for wanting to get as far away from his mother as possible.
“Tell you what,” Joey had said, feeling he had to offer the youngster some hope, “Monday evening we’ll go down to the DIY superstore and you can pick out what wallpaper you want, as well as a desk and chair. And if you’re really good we could go and get you a small telly and DVD player for the room as well.”
“Awesome!” Simon had jumped onto Joey’s lap and hugged him fiercely.
Simon had been the only bright spot. His youthful enthusiasm and sunny disposition helped to lift Joey’s spirits. Whenever he was around Simon, Joey was forced to put on a happy face.
However, Simon still picked up on Joey’s mood. As the two were pouring over paint colour charts in the DIY store, Simon said, “What’s wrong, Uncle Joey, don’t you want me to come live with you?”
Joey turned to look at the fearful expression on his nephew’s face. Hunkering down, he began to speak earnestly to the troubled boy. “Simon, I know I did wrong when I ran out of grandma’s house the other night. I know that really hurt you.”
Simon nodded.
“I ran off ’cause I was mad with grandma for not telling me about you coming to live with me before announcing it as a done deal. But you have to know that I would never,” Joey stared right into Simon’s green eyes, which brimmed with unshed tears, “ever, do anything to hurt you. I’m so fucking…um, I mean—”