The Love Left Behind

by Daniel De Lorne

  ‘Ok, babe, you can do this.’ He leaned across the aisle as much as he could and forced Lyall to look into his eyes. ‘And I’m going to be here with you all the way. Do you trust me?’

  Tears and terror burbled in his throat. He kneaded his knuckles one by one, starting at the base of a finger and going joint by joint to the ends, from thumb to little finger on his left hand. But he couldn’t get enough friction on his damp skin.

  Nick slipped a hand into his and stopped him from starting on the knuckles on his right hand. ‘Do you trust me?’

  He looked at Nick. Kind encouragement soothed him and he could open his mouth again to let the air in freely. The flight wasn’t real so he didn’t have to trust Nick to get them home safely, but he did trust that he’d be there throughout, however it might go. With Nick beside him, he was able to do it.

  He gave a few quick nods, Nick squeezed his hand once, and settled back into his seat. Lyall flicked his hands to shake off the tingling, wiped them dry, returned to the thrust levers and increased the speed.

  ‘You want the plane to be going one hundred and thirty-five knots. When you reach that speed, gently pull back on the control column until the nose is up at twelve degrees.’ Nick’s voice focused him.

  They gathered speed and the cockpit rattled but he held on with grim determination. The ground blurred.

  ‘Now, if you don’t get it at the right speed or angle, nothing bad will happen. Do you understand?’

  Nick was trying to make this easy for him, to say that there’d be no consequences. There were no families’ lives he would destroy. But he would give it everything he had to make sure this went off without a hitch. If he crashed, it wouldn’t be because he was scared.

  They reached the right speed and Nick told him to raise the nose. He pulled back to twelve degrees and then, as smooth as anything, the plane took off.

  ‘Keep holding on to that until we reach the right altitude,’ Nick said.

  The seats tilted back to give the impression they were climbing and the tilt triggered vague memories of when he’d been on a plane and the combination of two forces working on him at once: one wanting him to stay and one wanting him to go. His fear wanted him to stay on the ground too, to hide, to retreat, while another force, one that was stronger, that wanted to be free, that wanted him to go further and leave that old fear behind, acted on him. The higher they climbed, the stronger its pull, and they soared above the clouds.

  His lungs expanded to their fullest, sucking in all that air, taking up all their rightful space. He had done it. He had reached the sky.

  ‘That was perfect,’ Nick said.

  ‘You sure you’ve not done this before?’ Rob said.

  Lyall grinned and levelled out, goosebumps rippling across his skin and a shiver spiralling into the base of his skull.

  ‘I’m so proud of you, babe.’

  Even if it was just a simulation, everything felt real. He’d made it through.

  Nick directed him on how to do a few gentle turns, the screen changing from pure sky to the greens and browns of earth, and the off-centre sensation relaxed him. He glided free above the Earth with Nick. He wanted to go further, go higher, go faster. As long as he was with Nick he could do it. And every now and then he glanced at Nick’s euphoric smile, its bliss reflecting in Lyall’s heart.

  They flew for forty-five minutes and could have flown for forty-five more but their time was coming to an end.

  ‘I think we should take her home. What do you think, Lyall?’

  He nodded. When his gaze flicked to his watch, he saw they’d had longer than he’d paid for and it was nearing lunchtime. His stomach growled.

  Nick gave instructions of what to do, and Lyall pressed the right buttons to prepare the plane for an approach and landing. The plane lined up with the runway and slowed. As the flaps went out, the plane shuddered and the nose dropped, but everything was stable. When the speed was right the nose pitched forward again and descended gently. But as the ground came closer, the photos of Bryce’s plane shuttered through his mind. They’d tried to land and it hadn’t gone well and the plane had broken up on impact.

  Freak accident.

  Freak horrific fucked up accident.

  His hands gripped the control column like he was holding onto someone dangling off the edge of a cliff. Nick and Rob told him to ease up, but he couldn’t do it, and the landing worsened. Nick gave sharper instructions but it was hopeless.

  ‘Lyall, you need to breathe. It’s not real.’ Nick put his hand on his shoulder. Nick wasn’t strapped in.

  He’s going to get hurt if I don’t do this right.

  Adrenaline jolted Lyall out of the past, fired through to his hands and he enacted Nick’s instructions, saving the landing. The wheels hit the ground with a shuddering bump but the plane smoothed out. He’d avoided a crash, but his grasp on the control column was so strong it was in danger of cracking. By the time the plane came to a complete stop, he was panting, trying to regulate the shocks shooting through his blood. Nick unbuckled him and he pitched forward into his boyfriend’s arms, desperate to hug him, to feel that he was still alive. He buried his face into Nick’s chest and tears leaked out while he gasped for breath. How much worse would it have been for Bryce knowing he was going to die?

  Lyall had survived. Most people survived. And it had helped. It had helped bring into focus that he had spent far too long locked in that fear of what might happen. But he’d had help. The pilots all had help and the chances of being in a plane crash were one in eleven million. The statistic burned in his brain.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Lyall sniffed back and gave a breathy shot of laughter. ‘I survived.’

  ‘You sure did.’ Nick smiled and his eyes shone with unrestrained hope for a future that Lyall could almost believe in. He let himself bask in it a little longer, but doubts amassed in the shadows, waiting for their moment to surge in and resume their old positions. The successful simulation had been a start, but he wouldn’t know if it were a false one until he was on a real tarmac.

  16

  ‘Do you want my shift next week?’ Sandy asked Nick as she arrived at their place for lunch and sat opposite him.

  ‘What days?’ Nick said.

  ‘Out Tuesday, back Thursday.’

  ‘You sure you don’t want it?’

  ‘Absolutely. That redhead I met in Frankfurt a few months back is coming here for work and he’s one guy I wouldn’t mind showing around my hometown.’

  ‘Is that a euphemism?’

  She laughed. ‘You’d better believe it. So will you take it?’

  He mentally ran through his calendar and found it clear. Lyall was going to be busy. ‘Sure, but can you do my flight the following Friday?’

  She pulled down her shades and peered over the top rim. ‘Plans?’

  ‘Family dinner.’

  ‘Again? That’s unlike you.’

  ‘Maybe that’s a good thing.’

  She flicked up an eyebrow before signalling the waiter. They ordered their usuals. His wariness over going to the Turners’ and spending time with them had been charmed. He wasn’t ready to show up without an invitation but he no longer used Lyall as a shield when he walked through the door.

  ‘How’d it go with the flight simulator the other day?’

  He poured them each a glass of water. ‘It went well. Better than I expected.’ Lyall had done an amazing job, even if he’d been on the verge of collapse.

  ‘That’s great. Will he be getting on a plane anytime soon? It’d be nice to have someone else on our little excursions. I’ve heard your rendition of I Will Always Love You at karaoke a few too many times.’

  ‘You love it. We’ll see. I hope so. I want him there when I visit the last country on the list.’ He sipped from his glass, the water going slowly down his constricted throat. He leaned back in the cushioned seat, his gaze tight on the glass while the sea pounded the beach outside the window.

 
‘When’s that?’

  ‘I need to be in Greece by the twenty-second of June.’

  ‘Her birthday?’

  He nodded.

  Coffees arrived. She brought hers up to her lips and blew across the surface. ‘That’s not far away. Think it’s likely?’

  His thumb stroked the side of the cup. ‘He flew the plane—’

  ‘Simulator.’

  ‘Right, whatever, but he flew it like a pro.’

  ‘Maybe he’s just good at computer games.’

  Sandy believed flight simulators made people blasé about the skill required to keep planes in the air and land them safely. She had a theory that it was all part of a broader weakening of their profession that already meant many pilots were paid less than a living wage for getting hundreds of people from point A to point B without dying. That and the budget airlines. Don’t get her started on the budget airlines.

  ‘Point is, even though he did a good job, the simulator still bothered him. I know it can feel real, especially to someone who hasn’t been on a plane much, but I hadn’t realised how drastic his phobia was before that. I thought that maybe he was worked up about the possibility of it without trying it and once he went through the experience he would see it wasn’t so bad and everything would be fine.’

  Wishful thinking. People weren’t planes that could be controlled with the flick of a few switches and a gentle but firm hold on their control column. Though Lyall’s control column responded extremely well to a gentle but firm hold.

  ‘Yeah, but you know there’s more to it than that, especially considering what happened to his brother.’

  That reality came with too much weight. He resisted taking it on board. ‘I know. I was just being hopeful.’ He glanced out the window to the ocean and the sky and all that possibility.

  ‘So take him out for a joyride in a Cessna.’

  ‘And ruin him completely? No thanks. Even I don’t like going out in them.’ Noisy, cramped and often with only one propeller: taking Lyall out on one of them wouldn’t go down well.

  ‘Pussy.’

  ‘About as close as I’ll get to one, thanks.’

  She snorted. ‘Well, what’s the alternative?’

  He scratched at the stubble on his throat with the back of his fingers. ‘I was thinking I could surprise him with the ticket.’ A big gesture. An even bigger risk. But Lyall had been through plenty of shocks; maybe he needed the jolt.

  ‘Won’t that … I don’t know … totally freak him out?’

  His hand dropped to the table. ‘I’ve got to do something.’ He didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the right moment when Lyall woke up one day and happily skipped off to the airport to board a flight. He had a limited window of success that was closing by the day.

  ‘Tipping your boyfriend over the edge probably wasn’t what you had in mind.’

  He sighed. ‘I don’t know. I’ll see how he goes over the next few weeks, now that he’s been on the simulator, and then decide. My birthday’s coming up, might be nice to get him that as a gift.’

  Lyall had already made rumblings about his birthday and doing something special. Definitely not Nick’s idea. He could have happily flown through his thirty-first birthday as easily as he’d flown through the past eleven.

  ‘Will you tell him why you want him to come?’

  He chewed his bottom lip. ‘No. I’d already be adding enough pressure without adding my mother to it.’

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘So do I.’ He traced a little circle on the surface of the table with his little finger. Round and round, to buy the ticket or not. He’d been on that merry-go-round for days now. Time to talk about something else. Or someone else. ‘Anyway, enough about me. Tell me more about the redhead.’

  ‘Finally!’ she said, then turned to the waiter laying the plates down in front of them. ‘Not you, lovely.’

  Nick laughed as the bemused waiter walked away. Sandy launched into her tale of the redhead but about halfway through, Nick’s phone pinged with a message and his attention splintered. He tutted.

  ‘Sorry.’

  She waved away his apology, and he picked up the phone.

  Away on Friday. Going to Singapore. Can’t make dinner. Dad.

  That saved Nick having to cancel.

  OK. Have fun.

  He put the phone down.

  ‘Bad news?’

  ‘The opposite. Dimitri’s going away so we don’t have to have dinner.’ He shoved a fork speared with salad into his mouth. The lettuce tasted amazing.

  ‘Has he met Lyall yet?’

  ‘Nope,’ he said, mouth still chewing, ‘and with any luck he never will.’

  ‘You know you’ll have to introduce them eventually.’

  The next mouthful was not so delicious. ‘We’ll see. The longer I can keep Dimitri from getting involved in this, the better.’

  ‘Mind if I take bets on how long that will last?’

  He froze with his fork midway between his plate and his face. ‘Why shouldn’t it?’

  ‘Because of Lyall. There’s no way a guy that into his own family—’ She scrunched her mouth and nose. Her family lived on the other side of the world and she never managed to make it that far. ‘He’s going to want to meet yours.’

  He lost his appetite and let his fork droop, before laying it down on the side of his plate and slumping back in his chair. She was right. The mention of birthdays might have only been a small and recent event but Dimitri had come up often enough that it had been like dodging landmines. Nick never knew which step was going to set Lyall off on the Dimitri offensive. Lately it had felt like any way he moved, his father came up in an increasingly explosive fashion. He still wasn’t sure how a discussion on Thursday about which dog breed was his favourite had crossed into Dimitri territory.

  But what to do about it? He picked his napkin off his lap, folded it into triangles and slid it beside his plate. ‘He can meet Mum.’

  She peered at him over her sunglasses again. At least he couldn’t see his defeat reflected in her shades.

  ‘Fine. Let’s take bets.’ He took a drink to wash away the bad taste in his mouth. ‘I reckon we can get to our one-year anniversary without them meeting.’ The water hit his stomach with the force of a grenade. He was going to lose.

  She grinned and shook his hand. ‘If I win—and I will—you pay for our lunches until your anniversary.’

  ‘And if I win?’

  She smiled a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat. ‘I would have thought them not meeting would be winning enough.’

  That was truer than he cared to admit.

  17

  ‘Happy birthday to you!’

  Lyall kicked open Nick’s bedroom door and sang at the top of his lungs, while trying not to laugh at the explosion of body and limb as Nick bolted up in bed.

  ‘Happy birthday to you!’ he continued, carrying a cup of coffee and a plate with a freshly made cheese, tomato and mushroom omelette on it.

  Nick shot faux-menace and fell back, covering his head with the pillow and shouting something that might have been ‘go away’ but was too muffled to be heard clearly and could therefore be ignored.

  ‘Happy birthday, dear Ni-ick!’

  He placed the food and drink on the side table, yanked the pillow out of Nick’s grasp and flung it across the room. He leaned close to Nick’s ear.

  ‘Happy birthday to you. Rise and shine, beautiful.’ He kissed his cheek.

  Nick lunged for him and dragged him into the bed like a crocodile trying to drown a buffalo. Lyall shouted and laughed as Nick tickled him until he nearly hyperventilated.

  ‘What part of no fuss on my birthday did you not understand?’ Nick carried on with his sharp-fingered torture.

  ‘Stop! Stop! Stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ he fired back in between fits of laughter and a worrying feeling he was going to pass out.

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘No surprises! I know but IT’S YOUR
BIRTHDAY!’ he managed to get out before fighting back, wrapping his arms around Nick and hugging him close. Nick gradually succumbed and kissed him on the lips. He had categorically demanded no fuss for his birthday, but surely there were degrees to what constituted fuss?

  ‘This better be all of it.’ He nodded at the coffee and the omelette.

  ‘Not by a long shot.’ Lyall wriggled out, propped Nick up and served him his food. He ran out to the kitchen to get breakfast for himself as well as napkins, knives and forks.

  ‘I don’t think I can eat two,’ Nick said.

  ‘Ha ha ha. You’re soooo funny. Any more trouble from you and you won’t get to see me enjoy the other things I’ve planned.’

  Nick stuffed his mouth with omelette. ‘Would those plans happen to involve staying home and fucking all day?’

  ‘Not telling, or you’ll ruin the surprise.’

  Nick laughed and they were quiet while they ate. While sex was definitely one of the activities Lyall had in mind, it wasn’t the only thing. They had a whole day together and he wanted it to be as special as he could make it. Sandy had cautioned against getting his hopes up that Nick was going to like what he’d organised. There was some painful memory around his birthday that Nick wasn’t yet ready to share. They’d get there one day. Until then …

  Nick finished his breakfast and put the plate on the floor. ‘Delicious. I thought you couldn’t cook.’ He sipped his coffee.

  ‘I may have got a few tips from Chris on how to make an omelette.’

  ‘Even he wouldn’t be able to find fault.’

  He’d forced Minnie to show him how, although when he said who he was doing it for, he’d been happy to help. He didn’t even want a bribe. The family had gotten to eat omelettes for breakfast the day before.

  And he’d left the kitchen in a far tidier state than Chris ever did.

  Nick snuggled back under the covers and pulled Lyall to him, kissing him long on the lips with his hands roving down below the waistband of his sweatpants and gripping his arse.

  ‘Though next time, it’d taste better if the chef were naked.’

  Lyall rolled his eyes and shuffled closer.

  ‘I guess you’d better tell me what we’re up to next,’ Nick said.