by Drew Hunt
Simon giggled.
“I’m really, really happy that you want to come and live with me.”
“Thanks, Uncle Joey, it’s just that you’ve seemed a bit sad lately.”
“Yeah, mate.” Joey tried not to think of Kevin. “But it’s not because of you, honest. Us two men are gonna set up house together and be the best of friends.”
Simon’s grin lit up the whole store. He wrapped his arms around Joey’s neck and hugged him tightly. “I love you so much, Uncle Joey.”
“I love you more.” Joey returned the hug. He didn’t care that they were in the middle of the paint aisle. This was an important bonding moment between uncle and nephew, and he didn’t give a shit who saw it or what they made of it. Joey knew he’d royally fucked things up with Kevin, he was absolutely determined to be the best possible uncle/parent to Simon.
* * * *
Attempting to forget the plans he and Kevin had made to mark the festive season, Joey went out and bought Simon several gifts, spending way too much. He reasoned his extravagance was partially fuelled by his need to salve his guilty conscience over having hurt the lad by his earlier rejection. Joey also got a perverse pleasure from knowing giving his nephew a load of gifts would piss off his mother and sister. Being Jewish, Simon wasn’t supposed to get any presents on Christmas Day. Screw that! Joey thought as he inexpertly finished wrapping another electronic game and putting it beneath their new Christmas tree.
* * * *
With an unwelcome inevitability, Christmas day finally arrived. Joey pulled himself out of bed after yet another fitful night’s sleep. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly when it had happened, but at some time during the night his guilt had turned to anger. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was the whole bloody mess could be laid at his mother’s door. If she hadn’t interfered and stuck her nose in all the time, he wouldn’t have had to abandon his lover. The self-righteous old bag would have to see the damage she’d done. Joey became increasingly convinced he had to go round and have it out with her. He’d tell her that her precious son was a fruit, a fairy, a shirt lifter. If she cast him out, then so be it, but there was no fucking way he was going to compromise on Simon. He was having him, and she could scream blue bloody murder for all he cared. He was no paedophile. Throwing the quilt aside, Joey felt re-energised. He absolutely refused to live in fear any more. He was a man—a proud man—and he would live his life as he wanted, and not try and fit into some warped stereotype of a good Jewish boy. Ma, watch out ’cause the worm is about to turn!
Padding into the bathroom to drain his bladder, Joey stared down at his penis and realised the only way he’d be able to satisfy his sexual needs from then on would be to return to his old habits of seeking out anonymous and loveless sex.
During a run over to Manchester earlier that week, he’d stopped off for a pee at a service station just off the motorway. That particular toilet block enjoyed a reputation amongst his fellow truck-drivers as a place where you could get a hand or blowjob. Entering the handicapped cubicle, Joey had glanced at the thin, pale looking youth who barely seemed to have reached his eighteenth birthday.
“Haven’t seen you in here before,” the guy had observed, raking his eyes over Joey’s body.
Joey had looked at the guy’s face. Noticing he had the same chocolate brown eyes as Kevin had set something off inside him. Approaching the guy, Joey had started to put his arms around him. Joey hadn’t hugged another man since Kevin, and he desperately missed the contact.
“Hey! I ain’t into all that lovey-dovey shit,” the youth had said, pulling away.
“Sorry, I just wanted to…”
“Not with me, mate. I’ll give ya a blowjob if ya like, but I don’t do no hugging and kissing.”
Unsatisfied both emotionally and sexually, Joey had slunk away from the toilet stall.
Joey had given serious consideration to trying to win Kevin back, but did he have the right? He knew he’d be perfectly prepared to crawl on his hands and knees if necessary. But to Kevin such behaviour would be too reminiscent of that bastard, Cal. Each time Briggs had dished out a beating, Kevin had told Joey he’d offer an abject apology, assuring Kevin he’d never do it again.
“And like a fool you always believed him, and went back to him,” Joey said, looking at his haggard appearance in the bathroom mirror.
Though he knew he’d have to offer Kevin an apology as well as an explanation for his stupid and cowardly behaviour, no way could Joey put Kevin under any pressure to take him back. Joey knew he had a forceful personality, and it would be plain wrong to use that to woo Kevin back to him.
“Fucking hell!” Joey punched the wall, leaving a fist sized impression in the plasterboard.
Returning to his bedroom, Joey sat on the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of socks. He’d really fucked his life up, and he only had himself to blame. Well, his mother had to bear part, if not most, of the responsibility, too.
“And I’m gonna let her know how fucking much her meddling has cost me,” Joey said, snatching up the keys to his bike and leaving his flat before he could change his mind.
Instead of a white Christmas, the weather had gifted them with a grey, frigidly cold and blustery day.
Exhausted from lack of sleep, Joey rode his bike along the almost empty streets. The only things on his mind were to have it out once and for all with his mother, then it would be over to Carole’s to pick up Simon and take him home so they could celebrate a happy Christian Christmas. Well, maybe a capitalist one, he thought.
His mind occupied with restitution and recrimination, Joey failed to see the traffic light at the approaching junction turn red. Something appeared at the periphery of his vision. It was a car coming towards him. It wasn’t stopping. His attempts to swerve round the vehicle resulted in the bike losing its purchase and going into a skid. Time slowed, Joey felt, rather than heard, the impact. He was catapulted sideways. He was flying. Then came pain, terrible bone crunching pain. His vision clouded red, before mercifully fading to black.
Chapter 17
“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Kevin got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.
Leaning against the closed door, he let out a sigh. Though Kevin loved Peter and Terry to pieces, staying at their house for the past couple of weeks was beginning to grate on his nerves. He felt smothered, closed in, constantly watched.
As he filled the kettle and plugged it in, Kevin gave serious thought to moving back to his place. Even though he still suffered from bad dreams most nights, he felt he was strong enough to deal with them on his own. His nightmares usually consisted of an angry Joey towering over him, telling him he was useless, pathetic and weak, and no wonder he didn’t want to be with him any more. Kevin shivered and immediately felt a pair of arms wrap round him from behind. Turning, he came face to chest with Terry.
“You okay?” Terry asked in that unflappable calm manner of his.
Kevin stifled a groan. “You and Peter have been great, but you’re smothering me.”
Terry let go his hug. “I wasn’t holding you that tight.” He looked hurt.
“No, love, that’s not what I meant.” Kevin rested against the worktop and looked at his friend, trying to find the right words. “You came in here to check up on me, didn’t you? You didn’t trust me not to head straight for the knife drawer and slit my wrists.”
“No, of course not!” Terry said, unable to meet Kevin’s gaze.
“Terry.” Kevin put a hand on his friend’s arm. “I’m not made of glass. You and Peter don’t have to wrap me up in cotton wool all the time, I’m not gonna break.” Kevin paused when the phone started to ring. It soon stopped. Presumably Peter had got it.
“I’m sorry. It’s just me and Peter have been so worried about you. You’ve not been sleeping, you’re always looking really sad, and of course that’s natural, um, because it’s been Christmas and all that, but—”
Kevin interrupted. “You two have be
en saints. I’ve really needed to lean on the pair of you, but now…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Me being here, it’s great, but it won’t work, not in the long run. I need my space, and you know what they say about two’s company and all that.” It had been hard on Kevin to see the couple enjoying the holiday when he didn’t have anyone to share the celebrations with.
“No, Kev, don’t say that! I know you’ll need to go back to your place sometime, but it’s still too soon. Heck, it’s been less than two weeks since…”
“You can say it. Since I tried to off myself.”
Terry winced. “I don’t think you’re ready to go it alone, not just yet.”
“But I’ll never be ready if I stay here with you two watching every move I make, constantly asking me if I’m okay.”
“It’s ’cause we love you.”
“I know,” Kevin placated, “And I love you both, too. More than you could ever know. But I need to start standing on my own two feet again. I need to rebuild my life as a single man.” Kevin shuddered. The thought of being alone was so painful.
“Kev, your boss is on the phone,” Peter said, sticking his head round the kitchen door. “I told him you were on holiday until Monday, but he said it was important.”
Kevin was grateful for the interruption. The conversation with Terry had been building for some time. He wasn’t sure getting his concerns off his chest had improved things. Kevin hoped he hadn’t made matters worse.
Picking up the receiver, Kevin said, “Hello?”
“Ah, good, you’re in, wasn’t sure if you’d be at the hospital,” Mr Parker spoke rapidly, sounding stressed, or at least more stressed than usual.
“Uh?” He didn’t understand.
“I can’t get the bloody computer to take my password. Stupid thing ought to understand basic commands.”
The office had been computerised a few years earlier, but old Parker never seemed to get the hang of modern technology.
“I have to get these schedules sorted out. ’Course I wouldn’t have to do none of this if that dozy pillock hadn’t decided to go head-to-head with that car.”
“Sorry, Mr Parker, I’m not with you.” Kevin scratched at his right eyebrow in confusion.
“What?”
“Who are you talking about? Whose had an accident?”
“Eh? Your um, special friend, Joey, of course.”
Kevin felt an icy chill wash over him. He began to tremble, his legs feeling as though they’d give way at any second.
“You still there? Kevin!” Mr Parker’s voice rose in volume, but Kevin couldn’t speak. He was numb. His sir was hurt, lying in a hospital bed.
Kevin felt someone take the phone from his unresisting fingers, while someone else wrapped their arms around him. Through the maelstrom of swirling emotions Kevin heard somebody saying something into the phone before replacing it on the cradle. Kevin was then led to the settee in the front room and made to sit down. Two pairs of arms held him as he sat rigid, his mind unable to comprehend what he’d been told. Kevin’s shivers increased. He felt cold despite the roaring log fire a few feet in front of him.
“Here, drink this.”
Someone, probably Terry, wrapped Kevin’s fingers around a warm mug. Kevin mechanically brought the vessel to his lips and took a sip. The hot liquid tasted foul, Kevin made to spit it out.
“Drink it,” the voice, definitely belonging to Terry, said. “I’ve put three sugars in it, as well as a slug of rum.”
“It’s horrible!” Kevin tried to push the mug away, but strong hands kept it close by.
“I don’t care. You’ve had a shock, so get it down you,” Peter said.
Not having the will to argue, Kevin forced himself to take another sip. He felt the tea warming his insides as it went down, but it still tasted vile.
After consuming half the mug’s contents, Kevin felt slightly less jittery. “Did Mr Parker say what had happened to Joey?”
“No, not really. And I don’t know why you’re so cut up about it anyway. He’s out of your life,” Peter said, taking the mug from Kevin’s hands, which refused to stop shaking.
“I…” Kevin closed his eyes. “I still care about what happens to him.”
Peter sighed. “Jesus! Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“When I was waiting for him that weekend, the one before he…” Kevin screwed his eyes more tightly shut, “before he broke up with me, I imagined him lying injured in a hospital bed.”
“You got your wish then, didn’t you?”
Peter’s words caused Kevin to snap open his eyes and stare at him. “No. I’d never wish that on anyone.”
“Calm down, love.” Terry put a hand on Kevin’s arm.
Turning to Terry, Kevin asked, “Will you take me to the hospital?”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Peter said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kev.” Terry was at least trying to understand.
“I have to go and see him.”
“Despite everything that bastard did to you, you still want to chase after him?” Peter’s words dripped with scorn.
Kevin felt hot tears stinging his eyes. “I just have to see for myself that he’s all right. I know I won’t ever be his again, but…” The tears welled over his lower lids and trickled down his cheeks.
“It’s okay, I’ll take you,” Terry said, rubbing Kevin’s back.
Leaning into his friend, Kevin gave him a hug.
* * * *
As he was being driven to the hospital, Kevin’s mind whirled with scenarios as to what he would find when he got there. Part of him didn’t want to arrive. Joey had hurt him badly; he didn’t think he could ever trust him or anyone ever again with his heart. Another thought warred within Kevin’s head, and wouldn’t be silenced. Joey was the only true love of his life, and Kevin hated the thought he’d been injured. That above all else prevented Kevin from asking Terry to turn the car around.
It didn’t take very long to locate which ward Joey was in. Asking Terry to remain in the small waiting room—not wanting to witness a scene between his friend and his former lover—Kevin peeked round the open door of the side ward where Joey lay. Kevin had to stifle a gasp. The once strong, seemingly invincible man he’d loved looked helpless and vulnerable. Joey’s left leg was encased in plaster and rested on a large pillow. His left arm was in a sling, and a slightly soiled dressing was taped to his right cheek.
Kevin was torn. Part of him wanted to run. He felt a deep ache in his chest at seeing the man who had rejected him. Another part wanted to rush to the bed and fall on his knees.
Joey’s head turned, a pair of dull, lifeless green eyes fixing themselves on Kevin. “Hello, Pup.” The voice sounded scratchy, devoid of its usual rich timbre.
Kevin’s need to flee increased, but his legs refused to co-operate. “I…” Kevin cleared his throat and tried again. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” Joey closed his eyes.
“Sorry.” Kevin couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Kevin, I…” Joey’s eyes opened, revealing a deeper shade of green.
Kevin remained frozen in the doorway.
“I’m sorry…sorry for hurting you.”
Kevin let out a breath.
“Are you okay now? I mean. Well. You know.”
“I’m taking it one day at a time. It isn’t easy, but…”
“I’m sorry.”
The need to comfort his friend had almost won out against his need to flee, when Kevin heard a set of heels clacking their way down the corridor. Kevin turned to see Joey’s mother approaching.
Joey had always been uncomfortable whenever Kevin’s and his mother’s paths had crossed. Using her arrival as an excuse to leave, Kevin decided to exit the scene. He’d satisfied himself Joey was all right, or at least as all right as the situation would allow.
In his eagerness to escape, Kevin bumped into Mrs Goldman. After offering his apologies, he ran for the sa
fety of the waiting room and Terry. He wished he’d not come now, it was too painful seeing Joey again.
* * * *
“Kevin!” Joey called out, but to no avail. Joey sank back onto his mound of pillows in defeat.
“Oy, what’s the hurry with him?” his mother’s voice broke into Joey’s self-pitying thoughts. “He always struck me as such a highly strung little thing.” She advanced into the room and kissed Joey’s cheek. “Bubele, what’s the matter?”
Joey stared at the concerned face of his mother. She had a bloody cheek to do the concerned parent routine, given how it was all her fault he was in this mess in the first place.
Recapturing some of the anger that had blazed through him on Christmas Day, Joey said, “That, Ma, was the one good thing that’s ever happened to me. And because of your fucking constant meddling, I had to let him go.”
His mother took a step back, covering her mouth with her hand in shock.
“He,” Joey pointed to the doorway, “was my boyfriend. Yes, Ma, your only begotten son is a queer, a feygele, a filthy poofter!” His head began to throb. He rubbed his forehead to try and ease the pain.
The room fell silent, Joey, despite his anger, couldn’t look at the disapproving expression he knew would be on his mother’s face. But he wasn’t sorry he’d come out. His only regret was not doing so earlier, before he’d fucked everything up.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, Joey said, “Well, say something! Tell me what a disappointment I am, tell me that you don’t have a son any more, tell me that I’m just as bad as Uncle Frank.”
“No.” Her voice sounded calm.
Joey finally risked a peek at his mother’s face. To his surprise he didn’t see anger or disgust.
Settling herself in the hard plastic chair next to Joey’s bed, Mrs Goldman said, “I wondered when you’d get around to telling me.”
“Huh?” Joey’s eyes widened. “You mean you already knew?”