by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish
“Tears and fears and feeling proud, to say ‘I love you’ right out loud...” The radio station was playing a song Gil would rather not have heard again. He dived to turn it over but wasn’t quick enough. “...I’ve looked at life that way...” Too bloody right. He’d looked at life that way too, more than once. He fumbled the buttons and changed channel, holding onto the radio with both hands as a sudden and unwelcome wave of grief washed through him. He gritted his teeth and willed it to pass, trying not to remember the cause of it. Six years, six years in which he had loved, lived and laughed with a man he had thought he’d be with--imagined he’d be with--forever. He threw his cereal dish in the sink with an angry flick of his wrist, then took himself off to shower before work.
Checking his watch, Gil realised he was early, too early. He decided on the spur of the moment to take a detour, just to clear his head. He was unsettled by the events of the last few days and needed to focus. Not really noticing where he was going, he let his feet wander, eyes roaming over potential new properties to move to. He would have to find the estate agents in his lunchtime, if he got one.
Miles found it hard to be patient with Roofie’s continual stops this morning. He’d had a late night as Sheree’s labour had gone on till three in the morning. There’d been complications; the cord had got wrapped around the baby’s throat. He’d wanted to send her onto the Asher Bay maternity hospital but Sheree and her partner Bob insisted on staying. Their faith in his ability had touched him.
Sleep hadn’t come easily afterwards. Something kept digging into the back of his consciousness. Something to do with Stan Riley. If he could have just kept up a steady pace, the exercise would have wiped all the cobwebs away and he’d have been able to think straight. Instead he had to wait time and time again as the dog kept stopping to ‘smell the roses’ as it were. He stopped outside Delphina Danvers house. Instead of digging in the dahlia bed that served as a front fence, Roofie was looking down the street, wagging his tail. Miles looked up from his study of the pavement. “Gil.”
Gil was aware of someone else in the vicinity but hadn’t actually registered who it was. He had stopped to admire a particularly nice looking place, thinking that maybe this would be a good place to live. If he remembered correctly, he was in Camden Hills, the posh part of town. Surprised on hearing his name, he looked up, seeing the dog wagging its tail before he spotted the owner.
“Gidday, mate, what brings you to this part of town?”
“Oh... Miles.” Gil was unsure what to say. “I...was just...looking around. Nice place by the way.”
Miles noticed Gil was admiring the garden. “Hey, I don’t live here.” He nodded his head. “I’m next door. Gardening ain’t my scene.” More from a lack of time than inclination. Still, Gil didn’t need to know that. “Look, I can’t hang around here. If Roofie digs up one of her bulbs again, she’ll be calling the police. Want to come in for a cup of coffee?”
Gil paused at the unexpected offer. He had time, but he remembered what Miles had said during their ‘discussion’. “What happened to keeping our relationship on a professional basis then?” he asked, regretting his words a moment later. He could do with the company.
Miles blushed and ran his hand through his hair. The offer had come out automatically. He liked the young paramedic. Possibly a little too much. “No worries. I suppose you’re right.”
Was the doctor blushing? Gil wasn’t sure what was going through Miles’ head but he made no comment about it. He sighed and said “No, I’m not. Not right, I mean.”
The awkward silence started to piss the hell out of Miles. Heck, here he was talking to the only guy in town who gave him the time of day, and he was acting like a shy teenager. “I’m just going to brew some coffee. You’re welcome to have a cup if you want.” He turned and walked into his own yard, dragging a reluctant Roofie behind him. The dahlia bed had proved its usual fascination. Damn. He knew he’d probably appeared rude, but something about the guy’s eyes made him all funny inside. At times they looked as lost as he felt.
Gil followed Miles into his house. Despite the fact that the guy tried to act like his dad, Gil liked him. The place was neat, almost too impersonal, a few photos dotted here and there, but nothing noticeably personal. It felt a lot like his own apartment, transient, as if Miles was not intending to stay long. A few photos Gil assumed were family were present, not a lot more.
After letting Roofie out to play in his fenced off backyard, Miles busied himself with the coffee maker. He’d left the door ajar, but hadn’t checked to see if Gil had followed him. A soft click of the front door was his answer.
With a pang he realized this was the first time he’d had anyone in the house since he moved in. He guiltily checked the kitchen, pleased to see that it was fairly clean. Housework had been a welcome distraction while he’d cared for Darren over the last few months. The habit still lingered. The souvenir mugs he’d picked up last time he was home would at least look like he was making some kind of effort. The red Grevilleas always held a special place in his heart. One of the few possessions that meant anything to him.
For something to home in on and maybe spark conversation, Gil studied the photos. One was a woman, smiling happily, heavy black hair framing a strong featured face, mid thirties maybe. Gil found himself smiling at the picture, wondering if this was Miles’ wife. There were a few photos of different guys. A small holiday snapshot, slightly discolored from time took pride of place in a simple frame on the sideboard. Two boys, not much older than teenagers who could have been brothers: same height, same build, the same happy grin on their face as they carried snorkel gear and spear guns. The picture was postcard size so the detail was hard to see, but one could have been Miles. The freckles certainly showed he was a redhead. All the others photos in the room were single shots, some of them the typical posed studio portraits. One of a strikingly handsome dark-haired man, smiling for the camera, showing perfect white teeth. The younger man in one of the other photos bore a passing resemblance to Miles, although younger and fitter and generally happier. Too old to be a son, brother maybe? Gil picked it up and studied it. He had a nice face, handsome, gentle even. Gil looked across at Miles where he stood making the coffee.
“How do you take it?” As soon as he said the words, Miles swallowed. Shit. He wanted to know, but now was not the time or place. “Black, white?” Bugger, that was nearly as bad. “Cream, sugar?” Ah, that’s right, that’s how they say it in America.
“Black, one sugar. Thanks.” Was Miles at that nervous thing again, twisting his ring round his finger? Gil wondered what had happened to the wife. Damn, but the whole thing was intriguing him. He wanted to know what was going on with the man. He wasn’t even that old, maybe ten or so years older than Gil? Divorce maybe? Unlikely, he still had the ring. Had she died then?
Miles poured the coffee and carried the mugs over to the breakfast bar. He indicated a stool to Gil and sat on the other one. His knees felt kinda weak. Like a teenager on his first date. He stayed silent and blew on his mug as he tried to figure out what to say. Gil didn’t seem to be the type to miss much. He was obviously used to summing up people because of his job. He’d been staring at Miles ever since he arrived. How did he see him? Terminal? Miles swallowed a sip of the black coffee and winced as the hot liquid scalded his throat. He’d learnt to drink it black since his years in Africa. Milk had been a luxury there, and he never could stand the powdered stuff. “Hope it’s not too strong.” He pushed across the sugar. Shit, he was being a pathetic host. He should find something to say.
Gil took the seat indicated and accepted the coffee with a grateful smile. “Thanks, nice way to start the day.” He shovelled sugar into the cup.
Miles ran his gaze over the young paramedic as he sat beside him. He wasn’t dressed for running, more dressed for a social outing. In his old gray track suit, Miles was acutely aware of how scruffy he looked in comparison. Gil’s dark brown shirt matched the color of his eyes. This morning fe
lt different from their last abrasive encounter in his office. More intimate somehow. Maybe it had been a mistake to invite him in? “You didn’t go for a jog this morning, then?”
“Couldn’t be arsed really. Not in the mood. I was up early, decided to walk in to work; take a look at potential neighbourhoods...”
Miles glanced up from his cup at the last words. “You looking for a place to stay?” Crap, why did he ask that? It sounded almost like an invitation, not just a question, as if he wanted him to move in... and he didn’t... not really... did he? “Not prying or anything. Just wondered.”
“The place I’m in is too small. Only the one bedroom, I’d like two. I like having folks to stay. I can’t swing a cat in there. It’s just...claustrophobic.” Gil frowned. “That’s something else. I’m paying for a sea view. Bloody cheek. I can see the sea because I’m on the top floor. And it’s a bloody cheat anyway; everybody in Haven Falls has a sea view, it’s too small not to.”
Miles laughed. Sounded like the place he’d stayed at Edgecliff when he’d been at Uni in Sydney. “Well, you could swing three cats in here. This place was offered as part of the package when I moved to Haven Falls. I suppose they assumed I’d have a family....” Miles stared at the cup as a lump formed in the back of his throat. He hadn’t thought of Darren for ages. He’d been all the family he ever wanted, though at one time in Somalia, before Darren had become infected with HIV, they had talked about adopting a child. If Angelina Jolie and Madonna could do it....
Gil noticed the change in Miles. Something had struck a nerve, but what? He sipped his coffee and tried to work it out. Assumed he’d have a family? “Family? Miles, you’re wearing a ring.... would it be rude of me to ask...?”
“Am I married?” Miles couldn’t quite keep the defensiveness out of his voice. “For your information I was married, but my partner died.”
At last. Gil couldn’t believe Miles had actually admitted it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Gil wasn’t sorry at all really, well, not about asking anyway. He was sorry that Miles had been through all that though. “Were you together long? She looks beautiful...kind too...”
“She?” Miles nearly spilled the rest of the coffee as he reacted to Gil’s comments. He followed the direction of Gil’s gaze and stared at the photos on the sideboard in the living room. “Ah... That’s my sister, Siobhan... The guy with the dark hair was my partner, Darren.”
It was Gil’s turn to nearly spill his coffee. His sister? She looked nothing like him. Darren? Damn it, but that came in from left field. “Darren?” That’s right Gillespie, open your mouth and stick your foot in it. Oh God, that put a whole new color on things.
“What... are you surprised?” A spark of anger started to build in Miles’s gut. “You don’t have to look like a Sexy Stud from Facebook to be gay you know.”
“I had no idea...I don’t like to assume, you know. I...” I what? I wondered? I hoped? Gil was momentarily lost for words. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Miles, I didn’t mean to imply anything. I’m sorry but you’ve reminded me too much of a friend of mine back home. I thought... no, I knew you were grieving...”
Miles snorted. Grieving? That was the understatement of the century. He swallowed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten your nose off like that. I suppose I’m overly sensitive about a few things at the moment. My weight being a top priority. I bet you didn’t even recognize that some of those photos out there were of me.”
“Would you blame me if I didn’t?”
Miles glanced up not too sure how to take that last remark. Did he mean that as a compliment or not. In a way it was. A backhanded one. He ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. “I really must get this cut. I look like the wild man from Borneo or Noel Cleal.” He laughed at the blank look on Gil’s face. “Sorry, he’s an Aussie footballer... one of my heroes when I was a kid. You wouldn’t have heard of him.”
“Wild man, eh?” Gil smiled back. “I’ve watched Aussie football, all it seems to lack are a few rules. Any rules come to that.” Gil paused and wondered briefly if he would get away with what he wanted to say next. He threw caution to the wind. He was sick of dancing around the issue. “Miles, don’t hide yourself away. I’m sure you loved him, but I cannot imagine he’d want you to run from life, he doesn’t look like that sort of man.”
“No, he wasn’t that sort of man. He was worth ten of me.” Miles sighed and got up to get himself another cup of coffee. “Want a refill?” He gestured across to Gil’s mug.
“Thanks.” Gil passed his cup over and studied the man in front of him. Oh, this put a whole new slant on things, one Gil wasn’t altogether sure he was comfortable with. Damn, how could he say anything now without sounding as if he was interested? “I hope I haven’t gone too far. Really, I didn’t want to pry...”
Miles rubbed his beard. Talking of prying, he felt like prying too. He’d love to find out more about the guy he reminded Gil of. Was he a friend or lover? What had happened to him? He sighed. He’d decided to keep the young man at an arm’s length and here he was telling him more than he’d told anyone else in a long while. “No, it’s fine. I suppose the news would have gone out eventually. Millie Broadbent’s been pumping me for ages, trying to find out whether I was ‘available’ or not. Once she finds out anything, the whole hospital knows. I just wanted to keep it quiet as long as possible, so no-one freaks out.”
“They won’t find out from me.” Gil was quick to reassure. He wasn’t in the habit of divulging people’s secrets. “Freaks out? What about? I doubt anyone will freak out about you being gay, not in this town.”
Miles snorted. “It’s not that. Darren died of AIDS and some people still assume it’s transmittable by touch. They may not like being treated by a Doctor who...”
“...who was in intimate contact?” Gil shrugged. “If you are clean, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise Miles, nobody will hear about this from me.” Gil sighed again. “Although I know you hardly know me, you’ve certainly no reason to trust me.” Gil paused, thinking. “I assume you are...”
Clean? Miles glanced up at Gil. Was that expression just concern for a colleague’s health? “You ever want advice on how to have intimate relations with a guy who is infected and too scared he’ll pass it on to his lover, you come and see me. If Darren had had his way we wouldn’t have even been in the same room, let alone the same bed, but he needed to feel as if he was still loved. It wasn’t easy...”
“Oh, God, Miles, of course he did. How could you not do that? It must have been hell on earth for both of you. I can’t begin to know what that must have done to you.”
Miles laughed but even to his own ears the sound came out forced and harsh. At least it was better than giving in to the tears that were threatening to spill. Anger was a good substitute for sadness. Much more acceptable. Only girls cried. “Quite frankly, at the time I didn’t give a shit if I caught the fucking disease, too. He was my world...” Oh fuck. Now he was going to start crying. He stood so suddenly, the stool fell over and his mug nearly broke as he banged it against the tap in his hurry to do something, anything to stem the tide.
Gil suddenly felt as if he’d pushed too far. These guys had gone through something that made his problems pale to insignificance. He’d been lied to, cheated, but at the end of the day, he was alive, whole and could start over. Grief was personal, everybody went through it differently, but he’d been right, Miles was running, hiding. Now what should he do? Stay? Go, get out of his hair?
Miles placed the clean mug on the sink and turned to face Gil. “Well, now you know my life’s story.” It wasn’t everything by a long shot, but something about the way Gil paid attention made it easy to divulge that bit anyway. The guy was definitely good at his job, he probably had all the little old ladies eating out of his hand. He swiped a quick hand across the base of his nose. “I have to go in to work and make sure Sheree and her baby are doing okay. Hope you don’t mind.”
“M
ind? I need to get myself to work. Will you be okay? I feel like a right idiot, I never wanted to stir all that up for you. I feel...I feel like this isn’t finished.”
“Finished?” He snorted. he was just about to say. It was finished. He was finished, but something in Gil’s eyes stopped him. He stared at the young man and tried to work out why he would even care. Was it just his obvious empathy with people that made him such a good paramedic or was there more? “Whatever.” He was probably being rude. The guy did seem to be genuine and not just stringing him along, but he wasn’t going to rip himself open and expose everything. Yet.
“Miles, truly, I am sorry. If I pushed it too far...fuck, I don’t seem to be able to do anything else where you’re concerned.” Gil was angry with himself. First their ‘disagreement’, now this. Did he really not know when to keep his nose out? Was he really so damned eager to help that he ignored people’s feelings? Although if he was helping other people, he didn’t have to think about his own problems. He stood up to leave. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Miles took the mug out of Gil’s hands and washed it up at the sink. After living in vermin infected areas, he had a phobia about leaving dirty things lying around. By the time he turned back, Gil had gone. The slight bang on the door as he left and the sound of hurried footsteps outside showed he’d been upset by Miles’s rudeness. Fuck it. The guy had only been trying to help. .
Haven Falls #124: A Chat with Mrs. Ferguson
Lyle Ashley Tate
__________________________
“Hello, Mrs. Ferguson. It’s me, Lyle.” He patted the plump, red-headed woman’s hand reassuringly. Quite which of them he was reassuring, Lyle wasn’t too sure.
“I was here before, with Mr. Vale. He talked us through the various procedures, do you remember?” Lyle ran through the earlier scenes in his head. He looked over at the various items and implements around him, trying to recall as accurately as possible, without referring to his notes, all that his boss, Henry Vale had shown and told him.