The Love Left Behind

by Daniel De Lorne

  Dimitri speared pieces of his arni tou fornou, interspersed with gulps of wine and a recitation of whatever bit of right-wing propaganda he’d scraped from talkback radio, his cronies or his imagination. The meal took a mere ten minutes to eat but the tirade out of Dimitri’s mouth hadn’t stopped. Nick waited for a break in his father’s diatribe to implant some small morsel of what had been happening in his life, but Dimitri seemed unconcerned that he’d dominated the conversation and would leave, yet again, knowing next to nothing about his son’s life.

  Fifty minutes …

  ‘I’m thinking of going to Greece next,’ Dimitri said.

  ‘You hate Greece.’ Dimitri and his family had left Greece when Dimitri was only a boy and he’d been back only once that Nick knew of in fifty-something years.

  ‘I’ve never said that!’

  ‘Yes, you have. Many times.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Dimitri’s lips twisted like the lamb he’d eaten had been off.

  ‘You told Mum at least ten times you never wanted to go to Greece.’

  ‘Oh, well, your mother wanted to go to the islands.’

  Heat burst in the centre of Nick’s chest and shot up his throat. He had to control himself or he was likely to set Dimitri on fire.

  ‘No, she didn’t.’ His jaw hinged just enough to let the words out. ‘She wanted to go to Greece, she wanted to go anywhere.’

  ‘Well, if she did, she didn’t say anything to me.’

  The muscles in the back of Nick’s neck tightened, the ones in his right hand followed to make him dig his nails into his palm. He let out a breath to try ease it, surprised when smoke didn’t waft out.

  He looked at his watch. Forty-eight minutes.

  ‘Why the sudden urge to go to Greece?’ If Dimitri said it was to be there for his dead wife’s birthday, Nick would fall off his chair. He’d have to make sure the two of them weren’t sharing an island at the time.

  ‘It’s not all of a sudden. It’s where I’m from after all. Why wouldn’t I want to go?’

  ‘You’ve never shown any interest before. I’m surprised, is all. Go wherever you like.’

  ‘Didn’t realise I needed your permission.’

  Nick slipped his tongue in between his teeth and pressed until the radiating pain dulled. It was either that or crack a tooth. Dimitri actually did need his permission if he wanted to see the world on the cheap. Instead of pointing out that little snippet from the terms and conditions, Nick finished his one glass of wine and slowly pushed the glass away.

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘I was thinking next month. The weather should be getting warmer then, and there won’t be so many tourists.’

  Looked like Nick’s arse wouldn’t be hitting the floor after all; Avarina’s birthday was in June. At least Dimitri could be relied upon to be consistent in his selfishness. That thought didn’t bring with it much satisfaction.

  ‘Sounds good. Dessert?’

  Dimitri always ordered galaktoboureko, often with a spurning comment for the sickly baklava. Nick didn’t have anything.

  Forty minutes …

  ‘You should take your time while you’re over there. There’s a lot to see.’ With any luck, Dimitri would stay away for a month and Nick could avoid two dinners. If he accepted more shifts, he might be able to go months without seeing him.

  ‘I had thought about that, but it’s getting someone to take care of the house for all that time.’

  And there it is.

  The thing he’d been leading up to. Telling him about Greece had only been Dimitri’s way of getting them to that point where he could ask a favour. The last time Nick had asked Dimitri for anything, it was to pass the salt. And that was years ago.

  ‘There are professional house-sitters. Or there’s Chang. Or one of your sisters.’

  Just not me.

  Even Dimitri couldn’t ignore the underlying message. Nick hadn’t been to the house much ever since he’d swapped out Avarina’s ashes eleven years ago.

  ‘Yes, well, those are options. I’m thinking about it.’

  Dimitri didn’t like other people in the house, but Nick wouldn’t be watering the plants.

  Dessert came. Dimitri ate, the conversation going out of him a little as his tongue finally met with something sweet. And then Nick’s phone pinged. He’d left it face-up on the table, and the appearance of a few words from Lyall saying he was free after ten eased the tension in his chest. A smile bloomed across his face.

  ‘What are you so happy about?’ Dimitri asked, but Nick ignored him.

  He texted back with a time and a place to meet and received a positive confirmation in return. It was still a few hours away but now he had something—someone—to look forward to on the other side of this torture.

  When he put the phone down, Dimitri’s eyebrows were raised.

  ‘I met someone today,’ he said. ‘A guy called Lyall.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Dimitri replied with slight derision. ‘Pretty young thing, is he?’

  Dimitri didn’t have a problem with the fact he had a gay son—something to be grudgingly glad of—but he always had a disapproving undertone whenever they talked about anybody Nick met. The long-term boyfriends, of which there’d only been a few, were written off by Dimitri immediately. Nick had allowed some to meet Dimitri, getting it out of the way because the boyfriend had asked, but he’d never felt comfortable. And then when they’d broken up, Dimitri would say something like, ‘Well, it was bound to happen.’

  Whatever that meant.

  Perhaps in Dimitri’s world that was his way of saying ‘good riddance to bad rubbish,’ or ‘you deserve better’—neither of which Dimitri had ever said and never would. His father was incapable of such things. A meanness existed in his core.

  ‘He is, actually.’ Nick ignored the insinuation. ‘I think there’s something there.’ Even so he tried not to read too much into smiley and winky face emojis.

  ‘I bet you do.’ Dimitri finished the last mouthful and sat back with a smirk on his leathery face.

  His words stabbed Nick’s stomach. Hadn’t he learned? Never open up to Dimitri. Never share anything because it exposes a weakness that the old Greek bastard would attack. Time to retreat. Time to get away.

  ‘Well, anyway, I’ve got to run. I’m meeting him for a drink.’

  ‘Already? You’ve only been here an hour.’

  ‘Actually I was here an hour and a quarter. You’ve been here an hour. Next time, I’ll stay fifteen minutes longer to make up the difference.’

  ‘I don’t know why I bother,’ Dimitri muttered.

  Nick could have gone for him. He could have explained exactly why Dimitri was there, but he didn’t want to feel any shittier than he already did. When he got to see Lyall, he wanted to be happy. He’d be damned if Dimitri would ruin this for him before it had even started.

  Nick wiped his mouth with the napkin, took out a couple of twenty-dollar notes and dropped them on the table. Dimitri made a show of waving the money away, but he’d pick it up once Nick left. ‘I’ll see you in a fortnight.’

  Dimitri grunted and poured himself another glass of wine. Nick gave Christos a friendly nod goodbye, and he left the restaurant.

  He sat behind the steering wheel for ten minutes, waiting for his heart rate to ease. His hands shook. He wanted to get away from the place, but he wasn’t fit to drive. He breathed rationed air. One more fortnight until he had to do this again. He prayed Lyall didn’t have a thing for Greek food.

  4

  The minutes ticked past ten o’clock. Five had passed, and Lyall was still in his car across the street. Nick was probably inside wondering where he was. One more minute before he got out of the car, went into the bar, sat through the date and then said sorry, it wouldn’t work out. On the drive over, he’d run through that conversation and each time it sounded like a cop-out.

  That’s because it was.

  Nick was a pilot. So what?

  Yet there he w
as, frozen behind the steering wheel.

  A drink would help calm him. But the drinks were all the way over there and the ones he’d had at dinner had long worn off. Once he was inside, he could have one and jump-start his courage. Courage to walk away, because if this went any further, he’d be wrecked.

  ‘For god’s sake, just go in.’ He bashed his head against the headrest, but the thoughts clung on. Recollections of the plane crash, the funeral with no body in the coffin, the crying, the despair, the emptiness, his broken parents, and then the panic attacks when he’d see a plane cross the sky. Each flicker tightened his chest until there was no space left to breathe. He wound down the window and sucked air into his lungs. He should leave or else he’d not get through one drink, let alone a conversation. He turned the key in the ignition. He’d message Nick that something had come up, a family emergency, and promise to reschedule but never would.

  Before he put the car into gear, Nick hurried up the street, not yet running but picking up speed, a faster step to every ordinary one. He stopped one shop away from the bar, brushed back his fringe, and gathered a breath before walking past the bar’s large window. He paused behind the door, a deliberate raising and lowering of his shoulders, and entered.

  What would Nick have to be nervous about it? He was tall, good looking and sexy as hell. Although he’d looked a little rough and tired earlier in the day, he had this ruggedness about him that had Lyall sparking all over the place. Nick might have been grounded, but Lyall had been anything but earthed. He’d gone overboard on the blokey-tradey act, which was hard enough when he was thinking about planes and even harder in Nick’s presence.

  Seeing Nick just a little bit nervous did nothing to take away the shine of that first impression. If anything, it made things easier. He could handle one drink. Just to be near him again before he said goodbye. He killed the engine and wound up the window. The churning inside his chest resumed, but he forced himself out of the car and walked across the street to the bar.

  He’d never been to Splendid Wren, and while it looked small from the outside, it was even smaller on the inside. They were probably going for intimate. Four booths ran down one side of the room, each one barely large enough to fit more than two people. The bar covered the other side, a few stools in front of it, and then, in the back, an outdoor area where people sat. A decent murmur, interspersed with laughter, filled the few empty gaps. Nick stood out from the booth at the far end and waved.

  Lyall smiled before he realised he had, the nerves having settled, or at least gone out with the tide, and a warmth suffused his body. Had he really been serious about running away?

  He navigated around the bodies at the bar, which was a bit problematic considering he wasn’t the smallest of guys and the look Nick gave him puffed out his chest. ‘Hey, sorry I’m late.’

  ‘That’s ok, I just got here myself. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Sure, but let me get it. What’ll you have?’

  ‘Thanks. Gin and tonic.’

  ‘I’ll be right back.’

  He squeezed through to the bar, grateful for a few seconds away to collect himself. Eyes roamed down his back. The whole time he’d been getting ready had been a war between wanting to make a good impression and not wanting to encourage Nick too much. He’d told himself that it wouldn’t hurt to look his best in either case. He flexed his butt for Nick’s appreciation.

  A waitress caught his eye and served him next, and then he returned to the booth with the drinks.

  ‘Cheers.’ Nick clinked their glasses. The tonic’s tang bit Lyall’s tongue. Nick watched him, his gaze attentive. Lyall finished his sip and broke eye contact.

  ‘How was family night?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Oh, the usual. A ton of food, a bunch of fighting. You know how it is.’

  Nick smiled. ‘Well, I’m glad you could make it. Bet they weren’t too pleased about you skipping out on them.’

  Rosie had harangued him until he’d sent the message, and then given pointers on what to wear before he finally slammed the door on her. Nick didn’t need to know all that.

  ‘They were fine once I explained I was going on a date.’

  Nick laughed. ‘I like them already. How big is your family?’

  He hesitated. How much to tell him? There was no point in hiding the fact he had a dead brother; it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. But how heavy did he want to go?

  ‘There’s me, Mum and Dad, plus I’ve got a sister and a brother.’ He took a sip, wet his lips. ‘There was another brother too … but he died about twenty years ago.’ Nick’s face fell and the words were ready to fire from his mouth, but Lyall hurried on. ‘Then there’s my sister’s two daughters, and a bunch of aunts and uncles.’ He took a gulp this time and when he put the glass back on the table, he preferred to look at the ice rather than the sympathy on Nick’s face.

  ‘I’m sorry about your brother.’

  ‘Thanks, it’s ok.’ It wasn’t but if he kept talking about it, that would give his anxiety permission to ruin his night. ‘What about you? Big family?’

  Nick paused, and there was real sympathy, no, not sympathy, empathy.

  ‘It’s just me and my dad. There are a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins too, but I don’t see them very much.’

  ‘What happened to your mum?’

  ‘She died eleven years ago. Cancer.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’ His throat hurt, straining to say something more but coming up with nothing.

  Nick shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’

  The conversation had taken them down a dark road. And while Nick tried to sound strong, a shadow crossed his eyes.

  He reached over and squeezed Nick’s hand. ‘We make a fine pair, don’t we?’

  Nick laughed. ‘Definitely. We should get married.’ He drank and winked at him.

  Lyall leaned back and stifled a happy sigh.

  ‘Before I propose though, we should probably find out a bit more about each other. How long have you been an electrician?’

  ‘I got an apprenticeship when I was sixteen, working with my uncle, and then gradually he stepped back and now I run the show for him.’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Actually, I do. I get to meet a bunch of different people—though of course some of them can be arseholes—but apart from when you hand them the bill, they’re usually pretty happy to see me.’

  ‘I bet everyone’s happy to see you. You quite literally light up the room.’ Nick roared at his own joke.

  Lyall snorted, more from Nick finding his lame joke funny than from the joke itself, and it had helped chase away the gloom. ‘Like I haven’t heard that before. There are plenty of bad things about the job though. Definitely not a fan of getting under houses but there’s an apprentice I can torment with that.’

  ‘Don’t like confined spaces?’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s the spiders and snakes.’ He shivered.

  ‘Seriously?’ Nick’s eyebrows jumped.

  ‘Seriously. I’ve had that many close calls with dugites, it’s a wonder I’m not dead yet.’

  ‘You’re a braver man than me.’

  ‘Yeah, but you fly planes for a living. That—’

  His throat slammed shut. Bad idea. He couldn’t talk about it. Problem was he wanted to. He wanted to know about Nick and his life and that meant facing up to what Nick did for a living. Otherwise he should run now. Nick didn’t seem to notice he’d cut himself off.

  ‘It’s pretty safe. You’re more likely to die in a car crash than in a plane crash.’

  His heart rattled. How many times had Bryce gotten in a car before getting on that plane? Lyall screwed his lips into something that might have resembled a smile. A flicker of something went across Nick’s eyes, his brow creasing.

  ‘Being an electrician is probably more dangerous. Have you ever been electrocuted?’

  He nodded, taking a large mouthful until his glass was empty. The alcohol cleared h
is throat and got it working again. They’d need a second round.

  If he was going to stay.

  ‘Once really badly. Ended up in hospital—Mum freaked over that one—but I learned my lesson. Haven’t done that again. Other stupid things, yes, but not that.’

  ‘Oh? What stupid things?’

  ‘We’d need a few more drinks and many more hours to go through that list.’ He rattled the ice in his glass.

  ‘Lucky it’s my turn to order. Another?’

  Lyall looked at his watch. Maybe he should leave. Where was this really going? But talking to Nick was easy and listening to that smooth voice … It would calm passengers during even the most harrowing of turbulence.

  Nick paused halfway to his feet. ‘Or do you have to go?’

  He was being given an out. His stomach cramped but he breathed through it. One more drink.

  ‘No, I’m just figuring out how many I can have and still drive home.’

  ‘I live down the road if it becomes a problem.’

  Everything in the bar vanished except for Nick and a charge arced between them.

  ‘In that case, why not?’ He smiled, and Nick’s eyes brightened.

  ‘Anyone ever tell you those dimples are deadly?’

  He blushed, while Nick went to the bar. Lyall’s stomach eased under Nick’s playful tone and all the possibilities that could come next, tension sliding lower and wrapping around his balls. What would it be like for just one night with Nick?

  Nick returned with the drinks. ‘Now, you were telling me some of the stupid things you’ve done.’

  Lyall laughed and took a drink to cool his rising body heat. ‘If we’re talking about things that landed me in hospital, I tripped over a barbell in the gym once and fractured my leg.’

  ‘Ouch. When was this?’

  ‘A few years ago. It’s alright now but the rehab was a pain.’

  ‘Why did you trip?’

  ‘I was showing off for a guy,’ he mumbled.

  Nick laughed. ‘Did he come to your rescue?’

  ‘Yeah, it got us talking. We even went on a few dates, but it didn’t work out.’ He hadn’t been able to handle the Turner clan’s closeness.