The Love Left Behind

by Daniel De Lorne

  ‘How’s the jet lag?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ she said. ‘I hate that Bangkok to Dubai route. Fucks me up royally. How was Colombia?’

  ‘Mmmm you know, hot, sticky, mosquitoes.’

  She frowned at him over her menu. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ but even he wouldn’t have believed it.

  ‘Usually you’re full of exciting stories about jumping off waterfalls or at least telling me the special spot you chose to leave your mother’s ashes, but today …’ Her finger tapped her lips. ‘What’s the matter?’

  He held off telling her until the waiter took their orders and left them alone. Then he launched into how he’d met Lyall and their late-night date. She didn’t squeal over any of the details, her well-trained eye knowing that there was more to this than some simple love story. It was only when he wrapped it up and told her about the morning that she said anything.

  ‘Maybe you’re just a bad lay,’ she said with a deadpan expression before bursting out laughing.

  The drinks arrived, along with a sandwich for him and a muffin for her.

  ‘I’ve never had any complaints.’

  ‘You have been a bit desperate lately. Maybe it showed.’

  He gaped at her. ‘Bitch.’

  ‘Love you.’

  He air-kissed her. But while it felt good to make light, it didn’t change the fact that he had no clue what he’d done to turn Lyall cold. If there was no connection, he’d be fine with that, but he’d felt something, something strong, something with potential.

  Or maybe that was him being delusional.

  She sipped her coffee, her tongue wiping away the froth and chocolate powder from her lips. ‘Maybe you’ve got it wrong. What about that phone call he received? What if it was really bad news and he honestly can’t commit right now? Could that be possible?’

  ‘I guess. His sister has just gotten out of the hospital. Perhaps there really was some emergency.’

  When Avarina was sick, Nick hadn’t even wanted to go to flying school, let alone date anyone. What would it have been like to have someone to share that shitty time with?

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  He stared at her.

  Her hand shot to cover her mouth. ‘Oh Jesus, that’s not what I meant. But there could be a whole heap of reasons why he ran out of there like you’d given him chlamydia.’

  His eyes bulged. ‘Hey! I’m very safety conscious.’

  ‘Well, you do work in aviation. Everyone knows they’re as slutty as they come.’

  ‘Is this where you tell me you managed to have some fun on your latest shift?’

  Sandy was an excellent pilot, unfairly having to prove herself more than male pilots to get the same level of respect. Even Nick, gay though he was, still enjoyed the privileges of other white males. In uniform, Sandy was the picture of professionalism. Out of it, she was still the wild party girl he’d met at his first job flying. While Nick travelled the world to scatter ashes, Sandy did it to sow wild oats. Compared to his escapades, hers were about ten times more thrilling.

  ‘Oh darling, a lady never tells. Thankfully, I’m no lady.’

  She launched into a story of the sixteen hours she spent in Dubai being wined and dined and fucked by a businessman with an Armani suit and a Prince Albert. Not for the first time he wondered if his friend had a sex addiction but considering what some of the crew got up to on those trips, it was almost run-of-the-mill. Sandy slumped back in her seat, fanning herself, as if the retelling had brought on a new wave of multiple orgasms.

  ‘I wish we had more trips together.’ He took a bite of cold stiff toast. ‘You have all the fun.’

  ‘You would too if you got out there a bit more,’ she said, slapping the table.

  ‘Out there? I’m barely home!’

  ‘You know what I mean. You’ve got your little mission, which is admirable and everything, but when you tell me about where you’ve been, all I see is you by yourself.’

  He wanted to argue with her but she was right. It was him on the Ponte Vecchio, him at Base Camp, him on a boat down the Amazon, or in the Pyramids. It was easier to go by himself, and every place was meant to be a communion between him and his mother, another time to say farewell. Apart from Sandy, he hadn’t told anyone else what he was doing, and he didn’t want to. He hadn’t even told Dimitri. That’s why he’d stolen the ashes and replaced them with blood-and-bone. It was between him and his mother, the last thing he could do for her that he couldn’t do when she was alive.

  But those trips got lonely. He’d meet other travellers, get to know them for a bit, but there was always a point where he had to go off by himself. With only two countries left, what would he do after they were done? Would there be anyone who wanted to go with him? Would Lyall?

  That was nothing more than fantasy.

  His chest ached for something to fill it. ‘I’ll find someone.’

  ‘But will you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I hope so. I thought it might have been Lyall, but—’

  She patted his hand. ‘If you don’t hear from him this afternoon, call him tonight. If he doesn’t answer, then you know it’s not going anywhere, and if he does, well, all the better.’

  Something could have happened to spook Lyall, or meant he couldn’t do this now, and if that were the case, they might be able to make it work later. He’d do what she suggested and call. If there was no answer, that was his answer.

  When he flew he never felt like he’d lost control. This? He was nosediving with the engines on fire.

  6

  Lyall had to make a detour to the shops before getting home to babysit so he wasn’t home until closer to noon. Grace and Steve had already left, but Rosie was in the house, in bed, while Zara and Aisha played in the family room. He unloaded the shopping from the car and put it away, drilling down on just that task, and then he’d shower, get dressed, entertain the girls, or make everyone lunch, or tidy his van, or do paperwork, or clean the house, or any number of things as long as it didn’t involve thinking about Nick.

  But so far that hadn’t worked.

  He’d sat in the carpark for fifteen minutes replaying what a dick he’d been when he’d left Nick’s apartment. Then all the way home, he’d meant to call to apologise, or message at least, but his hand never made it to his phone. Perhaps it was better that he leave it.

  No matter how good last night had been, how hot it had been, how easy it had been getting to know Nick, it couldn’t go any further.

  That list of Nick’s had been a warning as surely as if it had been written in Bryce’s blood.

  How many countries were on it? How many had been crossed out? How many flights did that equate to? How many brushes with death? Lyall’s chest tightened the more the questions bombarded him until he staggered to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cold water and downed it. Greedy, heavy gulps froze out the thoughts, hurt his lungs, and reset him to normal.

  ‘How’d the date go?’

  Lyall jumped as Rosie appeared behind him.

  ‘Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

  ‘Drama queen. What do you want for lunch?’ She opened the fridge and peered in.

  He nudged her out of the way with his body. ‘I’ll make it. You’re meant to be in bed.’

  ‘You sound like Mum.’

  He glared at her. She laughed but she retreated and leaned against the counter. He pulled out bread and meat to make sandwiches for the four of them.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘What?’ He put his head back in the fridge, searching for the salad things that were right in front of him. The cool air did little to take the heat out of his skin.

  ‘Did he show you his cockpit?’ She cackled at her own joke.

  He grabbed the lettuce off the shelf, his fingers gouging through a few leaves, and threw it onto the bench. ‘Oh, so funny. Yes, he did and it was huge.’

  He retrieved tomatoes, cucumber, cheese, mayonnaise,
alfalfa … anything and everything he could fit into a sandwich because at least his hunger for food could be satisfied.

  ‘Can’t wait to tell him.’

  ‘He knows, but you’re never going to meet him because I’m not going to see him again.’

  ‘Was it bad? Does he have bad breath? A terrible kisser?’

  He pulled out plates from the cupboard and chopped the vegetables, keeping his hands busy. ‘No, no and hell no. But he is still a pilot.’

  ‘That’s not a reason.’

  ‘No, but he’s got this list on his fridge of places he’s been and places he wants to go, and they’re all overseas. He travels a lot.’

  ‘So? It’s not like he’s asking you to go with him.’

  No, but I want to go with him.

  He sliced a tomato in half, using too much force that he gouged the chopping board. ‘He doesn’t have to. There were times last night when we only had to mention the P-word—’

  ‘Penis?’ She giggled.

  ‘You’re such a child. Plane, the word is plane … I thought I’d throw up, each time.’

  ‘Did you tell him about Bryce?’

  ‘Yes, but not how he died. I didn’t want to make it an issue.’

  She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Maybe it won’t be.’

  He stopped cutting. ‘It’ll always been an issue. I’m either going to be worrying if Nick’s safe or if he’s keeping others safe. All it would take is for him to miss a phone call and I’ll think the worst has happened. It just can’t work.’

  His head drooped and his energy drained. He didn’t have the strength to even make a bloody sandwich. If there had been no connection. If they hadn’t gotten along so well. If. If. If.

  ‘Fuck.’ He slammed the knife down on the counter and ground his fists into the bench.

  ‘You really like him, don’t you?’

  He nodded. He couldn’t speak, the worries were backing up in his throat, ready to launch. They’d been on one date but there’d been enough of an attraction for him to feel that spark of potential. He wanted to be the one Nick came home for. But not if it was at the end of a thirteen-hour flight.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and slipped her arm around his waist. ‘Listen, if you had a good time and you like him, then you should give him a shot. What if him being a pilot is exactly what you need? Bryce died a long time ago, and I don’t think he’d want you to be living in fear as long as you have. It’s time to let it go, Sparks.’

  She was saying this for his benefit because, if anything, Bryce’s death had affected her even more once she became a mother. She hugged her girls closer after the operation. Bryce haunted them all in different ways.

  ‘Easier said than done.’ Especially right now with his guts in a vice.

  ‘Everything always is. But if you want to change, then that’s already half the battle.’

  Did he? He could probably never fly in a plane the rest of his life and be content with that, but it was what was at the other end of the journey that appealed. There was only so much of the world he could realistically get to by boat, especially living in Australia. Mates had travelled and he’d envied their adventures, while he was at home, helping the family and wondering what he was missing out on because it was safer to stay put.

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Call him and see if he’s free tonight.’

  ‘There’s one problem. I have to babysit you and the girls.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘That mother of ours. Invite him here then. I’m dying to meet him.’

  That was assuming Nick would want to see him again after how he’d behaved. What if Nick had already moved on?

  ‘What if he doesn’t want to see me again? I acted like an idiot this morning when I left his place.’

  ‘Given the circumstances, I’d say you could get a free pass just this once. You might have to tell him why though. And don’t forget to start with an apology.’

  He cringed. ‘I’m sure that’ll sound great. “Hi, Nick. Sorry for being a basket case this morning. I’ve got a fear of flying and every time I look at you I think of my dead brother.”’ He laid out the pieces of bread and slapped on the fillings.

  She snorted. ‘Seriously though, if you can’t be honest with him about this, you may as well forget about it right now. He’ll either think you’re not worth the hassle—in which case, screw him—or that it doesn’t matter—in which case, also screw him.’

  ‘You really do have a one-track mind.’

  ‘I’m still right though.’ She put the sandwiches on plates, kissed him on the cheek, and took lunch out for the girls.

  He left his on the cutting board, his appetite having shrivelled. There was little reason not to try again with Nick, but reason wasn’t always the most convincing. The grip on his intestines had more control than was healthy, but for once it wasn’t strong enough to stop him from messaging Nick and inviting him to dinner at the house. He would have phoned, but he wasn’t sure whether he’d make it through the conversation without being sick.

  7

  Nick stood on the doorstep to Lyall’s family home. The takeaway Vietnamese was getting cold, while the handles of the plastic bags dug into his fingers and cut off the circulation. He only had to press the doorbell, but the bags could have been filled with hundred-kilo weights. Was he really going to put himself through this again, especially when Lyall’s message had seemed so strained?

  He’d agreed, driven by a whole lot of need to see Lyall again. The cute sparky had jacked into his system way too fast but now that he was in there … He’d surprised himself with how quickly he’d replied and offered to bring dinner so Lyall or his sister didn’t have to cook. But now he was about to meet at least three members of Lyall’s family, he wished he’d taken longer to come up with a response.

  He took a deep breath. He was there. He had to continue. He rang the doorbell and the door opened.

  ‘Well, hello handsome,’ said a woman of about thirty, her dark brown hair a little dishevelled. She wore tracksuit pants and a pyjama top. Lyall said his sister had been sick but she hid whatever discomfort she was in. She held out her hand. ‘I’m Rosie. Sparks is in the shower. Come in.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ He shook her hand after transferring the bag of food from one side to the other. Lucky he hadn’t bought pho or it would have spilt everywhere. ‘Sparks?’

  ‘Family nickname.’

  ‘Because he’s an electrician?’

  ‘Not really, but he can explain.’ And then she smiled, a little wicked grin. She had dimples too. ‘Come through. Food smells good.’

  ‘It’s Vietnamese. Hope that’s ok.’

  She led him down a hall, past a living room and into a large dining area. The house was a relic of the Eighties with closed-off rooms here and there. The kitchen was isolated through an archway. Exposed brown brick everywhere. Linoleum covered some of the floor, tiles and carpet elsewhere. It felt homely, well lived in, loved.

  ‘Vietnamese is great. Sparks eats whatever, as do the girls.’

  ‘Your daughters?’

  ‘Yeah, Zara and Aisha. You’ll be lucky if you get to see them for more than five seconds. They’re glued to the TV.’

  He put the food on the table where there were already sets of plates and cutlery and glasses. Rosie took a seat and he did the same.

  ‘Lyall says you’ve been in the hospital. How are you doing?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just a bit of girl trouble. Nothing that the doctors couldn’t sort out.’

  Girl trouble. That’s what his mother had called it too. Hopefully Rosie had a different kind.

  ‘Sorry for ruining your hot date,’ she said.

  ‘If anything, this works out better. I get to see where he lives and I get to meet you.’

  ‘Charmer. But I bet it doesn’t quite beat having my brother all to yourself.’

  He smiled but didn’t reply.

  She laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be here long. I’ll
grab a bite and head to bed. I’ll take the girls with me too so it’ll be like you’re on your own.’

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Yeah until everyone starts coming home.’

  ‘Any idea when that might be?’

  ‘Smooth. But I’ll let Sparks answer all those questions. Tell me about you though. He said you’re a pilot.’ Her smile faded.

  ‘Sure am. I fly international.’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Love it. Sometimes the shifts are a bit long and getting into a regular sleeping pattern is almost impossible but the perks are good and I like flying and seeing different places. Have you travelled much?’

  Rosie’s hand massaged the base of throat. ‘Ahhh … Not much. We’ve taken a lot of holidays together though, driven down south to stay by the beach for the week, that sort of thing. But travel’s not really the “done” thing around here.’

  Her voice had taken on a far-off quality, like the breath she was using didn’t have enough power.

  ‘Are all of you like that? Even Lyall?’ Nothing wrong with being a homebody. It wouldn’t work if both of them were always away. But to not go anywhere? If Nick wasn’t on a plane, he wasn’t living.

  She was about to answer when Lyall came into the room wearing a baby blue polo shirt and beige shorts, both contoured to the curves of his physique. However it wasn’t the sight of his body that drew all his attention, but the appearance of his dimples and the glittering in his eyes. He couldn’t say whether Rosie had replied to his question, or even what his question had been. Lyall made everything else vanish. How could he have ever thought coming here was a bad idea?

  He stood but wasn’t sure how to act around Rosie. He wanted to pounce on him but while he hesitated, Lyall wrapped his arms around his waist, closed the distance between them, and kissed him. His lips yielded, then charged, a push-and-pull that had him teetering. His legs almost buckled. He rescued himself by splaying a hand across the back of Lyall’s neck but though it was meant to steady him, touching one more part of Lyall’s skin shattered his breath into pieces and sent his head spinning.

  Rosie who?