Nick’s name and photo flashed on the screen.
His heart punched his ribs.
He’s alive.
He hammered his phone to answer the call and whacked it against his face.
‘Where have you been?’ he shouted out of the deluge that crashed through him.
‘I’m so sorry, babe. I’m absolutely fine, so don’t worry, but it’s taken me forever to get any opportunity to phone you.’
His voice. It’s him.
His muscles went slack like he’d lost power to the grid. He slumped on the bed.
‘What happened?’
‘I got stranded at the bottom of a mountain in a city four hours away from my hotel. I didn’t have any signal, and there wasn’t anyone nearby who could give me a lift, so I walked. I eventually got a taxi willing to drive me back to Mandalay. It took ages. You must have been frantic.’
Nick could have been killed. But he wasn’t. He didn’t have to freak out. He could get back online without blowing everything. ‘Well, yeah, just a bit. I was on the phone to DFAT to find out about any dead Aussies.’
‘You weren’t!’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Jesus, babe, that must have been awful. But …’
‘What?’
‘Why didn’t you answer any of my other calls or messages? Were you really that upset?’
He circled around one of the bruises on his thigh, a button he was preparing to press. ‘At first I was. I just really wanted you here and home and I went a bit psycho, but … umm … the thing is …’
‘Lyall?’
‘I kind of … just a little … electrocuted myself yesterday.’ The last words rushed out.
‘You what?! Are you ok?’
‘Yeah, I had a night in hospital that—’
‘You were in hospital?’ He was starting to sound like Grace.
‘Only for one night. I’m totally fine.’
‘Totally fine people don’t end up in hospital. Fuck, this is all my fault.’ Nick’s voice had become louder, but no amount of shouting was going to shift the blame from where it belonged.
‘No, it isn’t, it’s mine. I just … I got a bit worked up about you being on a plane again and not being here that I got distracted. It was a dumb mistake.’
‘A dumb mistake that could have got you killed.’
He pressed the bruise and the pain barely registered through his shame. ‘I know. I’ve had all that from Mum and Dad. But I realised this phobia is controlling my life and I hate being at its mercy, and I know without a doubt that I want to be with you, but if I can’t control this, I’m going to lose everything.’
Silence. That should have brought everything back online. But the grid stayed dark.
‘Nick, say something.’
‘I want to be with you too. There’s no one else I want to be with more. This trip made me realise that where I’m going, I want to be going with you. I want to do everything with you, and I want to help you through this.’
Power surged through his body, bringing to light a smile that Nick wasn’t there to see. ‘That’s good because you’re coming with me on a flight simulator in a few weeks.’
‘Isn’t that a big step?’
Slight flicker. ‘Go big or go home, right?’
‘I’ll be right beside you.’
The lights returned. Base load had been met.
‘When will you be back?’
‘Sunday morning at the latest. The next flight to Bangkok is at eight tomorrow. I’ve already called the airline and told them I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to stay for the week. They were annoyed but I said there was a family emergency and they agreed. Looks like it wasn’t a lie after all.’
‘I’m not an emergency,’ he mumbled.
‘No, but I imagine you were in the emergency department. Close enough.’ A pause on the other end. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
How much to tell him? How much worry to heap on him? He could keep it to himself but then when Nick got home and saw the bruises and scrapes, he’d feel worse.
He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got bruises all over my body, I’ve lost some skin, and I’m still a bit twitchy but the doctors were happy to release me. There’s really nothing to worry about. It’s not like I’m going to start shooting lightning from my fingertips.’ He laughed.
Nick didn’t. ‘If anything had happened to you …’
‘But it didn’t. I’m still right here.’
Nick, on the other hand, was far away and at least two terrifying plane rides from home.
‘I know but …’ Nick sighed. ‘Look, there was something I was going to write in that last message I sent you but I want to say it now. I love you, Lyall. And it’s not just because you were almost barbecued yesterday. I love you, even if you’re afraid of flying.’
Nick’s words spiralled into his chest like a Catherine wheel throwing fireworks. It beamed light in all the dark places where he’d encouraged his fear. His childlike wonder at seeing sparks in the sky returned and shone through him. He hugged himself with his free arm, his knees coming up, sore as they were, so he could hold on and bask in this joy as long as possible.
‘I love you too, Nick, even if it drives me crazy that I worry about you so much.’
Nick chuckled. ‘Looks like we’ve both got reasons to worry now.’
The light inside dimmed. ‘Well, if the EnergySafety people don’t give me my ticket back, then you won’t have to.’
‘They what? You can’t work?’
He shrugged reflexively. ‘Standard procedure. Anything goes wrong they have to investigate. It’s going to be a shit show.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Again, not your fault.’
‘No …’ Bedsprings twisted and groaned in the background. ‘But maybe there’s something I can do to make you feel better,’ Nick purred.
Power had returned to all areas. Lyall’s fingers drummed on his chest. ‘Oh yeah? Like what?’
‘Well, just because you’re over there and I’m over here doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.’
‘My folks are home,’ he whispered.
‘You’ll just have to work hard at being quiet then.’
That wasn’t the only thing that was going to be hard. He got up, the promise of long-distance fun with Nick, a release from the stress of the past two days, enough to propel him to close the door and lower the lights further. He climbed back onto his bed.
‘So, what are you wearing?’ Nick said.
Lyall laughed. ‘How about I show you instead? They put cameras in phones for a reason.’
‘I’d rather hear you tell me.’
His groin buzzed electric. ‘Geez, you’re kinky. Any other fetishes I should know about?’
‘You’ll have to find out.’
Nick’s teasing tone made his cock twitch. ‘Challenge accepted.’
‘So … What are you wearing?’
‘I’m wearing a tank, shorts and my jocks. How about you?’
‘Luckily I’ve had a shower—had to, long story, will tell you later—so I’m wearing a robe. And nothing else.’
‘Want me to take everything off?’
‘Yes, get naked for me, but slowly. Tell me what you’re doing.’
‘I’m taking off my tank and pulling it over my head.’
‘Hold onto it. Cover your eyes with it.’
Sparks fired from his sacrum to his scalp. ‘Definitely kinky.’
‘Do it,’ he ordered.
A shiver raced down his spine. He followed Nick’s instructions, and the room slid into darkness. He put the phone back to his ear.
‘It’s done.’
‘Can you see?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Imagine my hands sliding down from the top of your chest, dragging my fingers over your right nipple. Mmmm, it’s getting hard.’
‘Yes, like that,’ Lyall’s voice barely registered but he was there, breathy, listening, waiting.
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Lyall’s hands became Nick’s, making one nipple stiff and then the other, moaning as he pinched it and listening for the change in Nick’s voice. It deepened as he slipped in details of what he was doing. His moans shaded in the edges. Lyall’s hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his tight briefs. His cock already hard and ready, demanding attention, but he held off. He made himself wait because Nick made him wait. He slid his underwear off, the blindfold helping him to imagine it was Nick helping him, undressing him, pleasuring him, and when he was free, he cupped his balls in his hand and pulled, responded to Nick’s demands to tug harder, and he moaned against the sweet pain.
‘What do you want me to do next?’
Nick hesitated, a whimper in his breath as he pleasured himself thousands of kilometres away. ‘Take your cock in your hand and slowly slide it up and down. Imagine it’s my mouth working over you, sucking on your head, licking under the shaft.’
‘Oh god, yes, keep going.’
He was so hard he wouldn’t last long, torn between wanting it to go forever and wanting to reach his climax. But Nick wouldn’t let him come yet. He told him how fast to go, when to slow down, when to stop, when to taste himself and then, when he was reaching his own peak, when to speed up and all the bad and wonderful things he was doing to him.
‘Come for me, Lyall, I want you to come for me.’
Lyall couldn’t speak. Blindfolded and controlled, he bit his lip to hold in his moans as the pressure built in his groin and concentrated in his balls. He hovered, breath hitching in his throat, ratcheting up each inhale until a sudden surge of power blasted through him and his mind exploded with light. He came over his hand and stomach, taking an eternity to earth.
Nick’s voice strained as he released with louder moans than Lyall allowed himself. Heavy, satisfied breathing beat through the phone and they lay separate but connected, as warmth spread through his body. He kept the blindfold on, wanting Nick to stay.
‘That was amazing,’ Nick said.
‘Yeah, but I wish you were here for real.’
‘Not as much as I wish you were here.’
And after recent events, it didn’t seem so impossible to imagine himself with Nick somewhere else on the globe. The afterglow kept the thought alive and the fear at bay. For the first time in a very long while the possibility of getting on a plane, of travelling somewhere together, wasn’t out of the question. It could be done and he would do it. Lyall drifted on that happy thought.
‘Lyall? I love you.’
His body tingled, inside and out. ‘I love you too. Now, tell me about your trip.’
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he said. ‘First, let me say the stairway to heaven is covered in monkey shit and it’s a bitch to get off.’
14
They won’t blame you.
Even with the long shower, trying on two outfits, and sticking just below the speed limit, Nick still arrived at Lyall’s exactly on time, ready for Friday night dinner with the Turners. He crept into the driveway, killed the engine and took a few deep breaths. This was going to be fine. Better than fine. But his confidence was as steady as a First Class passenger on their third bottle of Dom Perignon. Lyall might not blame him for causing his electrocution, but what did his parents think?
The longer he sat in the car, the harder it got to move and the more fed up with himself he became. He was being ridiculous. He’d already met most of them. He’d have a good time. And it would make Lyall happy. After the week he’d had, he deserved that.
He got out of the car, and Lyall bounded out of the front door, eyes shining, dimples blazing. Their combined brilliance evaporated the stiffness in Nick’s limbs. Lyall leaped into his arms, and their lips pressed together before he got any words out. Lips and tongues were made for more pleasurable things than speaking anyway.
Lyall let Nick up for air. ‘How are you?’
‘Nervous.’
‘Same.’
Nick’s gut dropped. ‘Now I’m really nervous.’
‘It’ll be fine, it’s just … I haven’t done this very often, treated boyfriends to the full Turner experience.’ Lyall scratched his head. ‘To be honest, I’m not even sure what they did to the last one. He ran screaming and I never heard from him again.’
Half a second passed and his stomach did a barrel roll before he realised Lyall was laughing at him. He narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘It is. Kinda.’ Lyall’s hand grasped his—worried he was going to do a runner?—and led him into the house, giving him a brief assurance that the day’s meeting with EnergySafety had gone well. He was still suspended but he was making progress. Perhaps the dimples gave him leverage.
The introductions were quick. Grace barely stopped for a hello, and he only saw the back of Chris’s head and a wave of his hand before their attention was back in the kitchen to get dinner ready.
Steve hung around. He could like Steve. Correction: he already liked Steve. He looked Nick in the eye, gave him a warm smile and a firm handshake, asked him how his day was, when he was next flying. He was easy. He was interested. He told bad jokes. The three of them sat at the table but they were only down for a minute before the rest of the family were at the door and the house got noisy.
Rosie gave him a hug. The girls said a quick hi before running through to their grandmother and then the TV. Rosie’s husband, Leo, came in after, apologising for having to take a call. The guy was short, about Rosie’s height, with a solid rugby build, but despite his certain ability to be able to tackle anyone to the ground, he had a genuine quality to him, the dark brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses and lazy smile enough to calm even Nick’s nerves.
‘So, Lyall finally managed to convince you to come for one of these, did he?’ Leo said as he finished shaking Nick’s hand.
‘Well …’
He laughed. ‘I know that look. I meant “convinced” in its loosest sense.’ Leo winked at him, and then gave Steve a hug and popped into the kitchen to say hello to Grace and Chris.
‘Leo’s just stirring,’ Lyall said. ‘The first time he met the family he was caught in bed with Rosie.’
‘Did you have to tell him that?’ Rosie hissed.
‘Yes.’
Rosie rolled her eyes and Nick laughed.
‘How’ve you been?’ he asked her.
She levered down and settled into a chair, looking like she’d aged a decade in the process. At least she didn’t grimace.
‘Not bad. Still a little weary. They say they got it all but … Well, the worry gets to you at times.’
Nick sat next to her. ‘I’m sure everything’s fine.’
Rosie gave a slightly forced smile. It was pointless to worry but optimism without certainty could be catastrophic.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ Grace called out. ‘Lyall, come give us a hand, please.’
Lyall’s hands slid off his shoulder, a sensation similar to when his mother let go of the handlebars of his bike and left him to wobble on his own.
‘Nick, would you like beer or wine?’ Steve asked.
‘Wine, please.’
‘Coming right up.’
Leo herded the girls to the table, and then there was a bustle of bodies and the delicious waft of Indian cooking as the food was carried out of the kitchen and placed on the table in front of him. Chris had made lamb rogan josh and chicken tikka masala, a couple of dhals and palak paneer, saffron rice and homemade garlic naan.
‘You eat like this every Friday?’ he asked Rosie.
‘Pretty much. Unless Chris has to work and then it’s usually a roast or fish, but definitely not as all-in.’
‘Yeah, and there’s usually not so much cleaning to be done either,’ Lyall said as he came out of the kitchen.
Nick gave Rosie a questioning look.
‘Chris isn’t the tidiest chef in the world. Don’t look in the kitchen. You’ll have nightmares.’
‘You two are hilarious.’ Chris took a seat opposite Ni
ck. So this was the brother that Lyall had trouble with? Chris was a bit on the skinny side, his metabolism and the stress of his job probably enough to keep him thin for a few more years of tasting what he made. His hair was shaved close, making his eyes appear big on his face. He wasn’t smiling so he couldn’t be sure but he probably had the Turner dimples as well.
‘Here you go, Nick.’ Steve poured him a glass of chardonnay and then went around the rest of the table offering as he went. Rosie didn’t drink, Leo took a glass, as did Chris. Lyall was still in the kitchen and the seat next to Nick remained empty. When Lyall returned, he might have only been carrying extra napkins as he pulled his chair back but it was like he’d brought a parachute.
‘Sparks, grab some spoons,’ Chris ordered before he could sit down.
With a few mutters, Lyall returned to the kitchen and those intervening seconds left his seat open.
Grace claimed it. ‘I hope you don’t mind me sitting next to you, Nick.’
His heart lurched and brought him to his feet. ‘Not at all.’ He waited for her to take her seat. Meanwhile his parachute was out of reach, taking a spot flanked by his mum and dad.
‘I thought it’d be easier than shouting at each other across the table.’
Did that mean there were things she wanted to whisper to him instead? Things she didn’t want Lyall to hear?
Lyall gave him an apologetic look. Nick hoped his smile was reassuring. He sat back down, took a drink and was forgotten as the food was served, many hands reaching in to scoop out what promised to be an amazing meal.
Nick broke off a piece of naan and scooped up rice and curry with his fingers. The spices struck his tongue with a burst that took him back to Kerala. He’d gotten lost down some winding and narrow street and found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant filled with locals and no white people in sight. It was one of the best meals of his trip.
‘Chris, this is amazing. I haven’t had Indian food this good since I was in India.’
Chris’s dimples peeked out as he looked down at his plate and mumbled a thanks. Grace gave a proud smile, and Steve patted his son on the back.
The Love Left Behind Page 10