by Heidi Austin
I had been sitting in the darkness for hours. I hadn’t slept and I hadn’t left. I hadn’t opened my book, I hadn’t turned on the light, I hadn’t really even moved much, or looked away from the small stain on the edge of the car windscreen which the wipers missed every time. I was numb. I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t known Deidre. I just kept remembering Cal’s stiff, stoic expression through the funeral and I just wanted to know what was happening.
Suddenly the passenger door opened and the object of my thoughts cannoned into the back seat.
“Why are you still here?” he asked breathlessly. “I was going to make a run for it. If I hadn’t looked down the drive I wouldn’t have noticed you at all. Why didn’t you go?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “What are you doing?” And finally I looked at him properly and noticed the box in his hands. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”
“What I always intended to do. Put her somewhere she belongs, that she loved. She’s not staying on the mantelpiece forever. He robbed me of her in life; I won’t let him do it in death.”
“Are those your grandmother’s ashes?” I asked, my voice slightly strangled. “Cal, please tell me I’m seeing things.”
“They couriered them over. He couldn’t even be bothered to go and collect them. Rich enough to get the ashes on the same day as the cremation, but not rich enough to give a shit about actually picking up his mother’s body. I won’t let him have her, I just won’t.”
The conviction in his voice, especially against his father, was a rare thing. I had never heard him sound so certain. I glanced up at him and our eyes met in the rear view mirror. For a short moment there was an electric, sparkling connection between us, like a ripple across the air before an explosion.
“Where do you need me to go?”
He froze then, went absolutely still and then blew out a breath in a sigh of relief. Then he grinned. I watched him grin; his eyes alight with joy and gratitude, with life and energy, gleaming in the darkness. In that moment, like many moments with Cal, I realised that I’d been fooling myself about a lot of things. I couldn’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t help him now.
“Just drive, I’ll give you the post code but I’ll direct you once we get there. It’s a bit out of the way.” I set off down the path toward the gates, but as we approached them a shadowy figure emerged from the bushes on the side of the driveway and Cal swore. I swallowed, imaging his father’s wrath already, but when the lights of the car illuminated the man’s face, it wasn’t Cal’s father, it was Lucas.
Cal didn’t move. Neither did I. We all waited, Lucas in front of the car, and Cal and I watching him. Then, in his usual patient way, he walked slowly to the rear passenger door opposite Cal and got in. I was expecting him to politely ask Cal what the hell he was doing, and demand the box of ashes back, but he didn’t say a word.
Lucas looked at the box, then they looked at one another, and it seemed as though a thousand words were exchanged in just one glance. Then they both slowly looked at me, and after an infinite pause, I started driving again.
We drove until seven am. Lucas slept for some of it, but Cal was alert and wide eyed the whole time, clutching the little box as though it were his only lifeline.
The satnav suggested we were at our destination just as dawn was breaking over the horizon and Lucas woke up as Cal directed me off the main road towards a gravel path that seemed to wind on for almost a mile, and finally he told me to stop. I stretched, yawned a little and got out of the car.
We had parked at the base of a small hill on a grassy verge that was so green and beautiful that I took off my shoes and socks, feeling the stalks of grass pricking my toes. I turned and smiled at Cal and he grinned. Lucas got out of the car too, looking at my bare feet, and then in a lovely moment of solidarity he and Cal also took their shoes and socks off, as though we had all agreed it in advance.
They walked as one toward the brow of the hill, both of them clearly familiar with where we were.
I didn’t follow, as I wasn’t sure this was something that they’d want to share with anyone else, but Cal came back, giving me a stern look and I went after him.
Several minutes later as I walked over the rise of the hill I saw a gleaming lake, spreading out in a wide expanse in front of me. The sky, a ball of pinks and purples in the sunrise, was reflected against the completely still glassy surface of the lake and I watched as Cal walked down to the edge. I followed and stood at a distance.
There was an infinitesimal pause, and then a breath of a breeze whisked across the surface of the lake and Cal held out the box to Lucas. I think I stopped breathing, waiting for Lucas to refuse this gift; a final chance to bid farewell to the woman he loved. But after what felt like a very long time indeed, Lucas carefully lifted the box from Cal’s hands and held it carefully for a moment, contemplating it, with an expression that was impossible to read.
“This is where she belonged” Cal said quietly. “We both know that. I won’t let Dad keep her in that house."
Lucas had tears running down his cheeks, but Cal was a silent pillar of strength in that moment, in my mind he looked almost invincible.
It was so still and beautiful here.
Lucas carefully took the lid from the box. I had expected it to be brimming with the ashes, but actually it was just a small bag, barely half full. How did a life, a human body that had meant so much to so many people amount to so little in the end?
Lucas and Cal looked at one another as they gently parted the opening of the bag.
“Together?” Lucas’ voice was only a whisper.
Cal nodded and I suddenly felt totally out of place. I took a step back and half turned away, “I’ll just-”
“Not for the world.” That last from Lucas. “Please stay, Jonathan.”
I turned back, touched beyond reason that I was welcomed into this private sanctuary.
I waited for them to slowly sprinkle the ashes around the shore, but they both seemed to be waiting for something. And then, a fork of sunlight pierced the purple clouds above our heads and fell upon the water before us. Cal and Lucas both laughed aloud and suddenly the two arms which held the box, jerked upwards and the wind soared from behind me at an impossible speed and the box swung upwards, a cloud of specs erupting into the air and whisked away from us over the lake and up, up, impossibly up, over the trees ahead of us and scattering into the sky.
Cal turned to me, still bathed in sunlight, and my heart clenched at the contented expression and happiness on his face. Our eyes met and for the longest moment it felt as though it was just me and him and the rest of the world faded to nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The journey back was a quiet one. Cal didn’t touch the mini fridge, didn’t drink anything but water and Lucas sat up front with me. Lucas chuckled softly once Cal had fallen into a doze in the back, and we laughed about his mission to get Deidre into her rightful place.
“Was that somewhere she went a lot?” I asked.
“Oh yes, for many years. She loved the stillness and the quiet.”
“What’s out there, is there a hotel nearby or-”
“Oh she used to camp, right up until her seventieth birthday.” Lucas grinned at my surprised expression. “She was quite a hippy. I’m not sure it’s even legal, but she did it anyway, hiding in the woods in her tent under the stars. ”
“Did -” I paused, uncertain whether to go on, considering the fragile nature of the day, and our budding friendship, but I carried on anyway. “Did you go there together?”
He sighed then, the saddest sound in the world, and he laughed again, very softly.
“She must have asked me a hundred times. And we did go there, just once, when we were a little younger than I am now. It is a treasured memory. Cal has never ever asked me about my relationship with her, but I have never been more grateful to him than I am now. For giving me today. For giving me a chance to be there to bid her farewell, outside of a stuffy hide
ous church and an emotionless crowd.”
The bitterness startled me. Lucas never spoke ill of his employer. He rubbed his leg absently, an old discomfort perhaps, or discomfort in himself. “I think it will be time for me to part ways with Donald Emerson soon. I believe our time together is at an end. Perhaps it has been for many years.”
I stayed quiet, glancing at Cal in the mirror. He wasn’t asleep now, his eyes on me, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had no place there. I looked back at the road, feeling the tiredness setting in but just glad to have been involved. I felt very privileged to have been with them both that day, despite never having met Deidre, I felt as though I had helped be a part of her goodbye.
We dropped Lucas off at the mansion, where he silently let himself into the house. There were still a few stragglers from the wake in and amongst the grounds, who were leaving that morning. Cal stayed in the back seat until I drove towards the rear entrance of the house and then he sat up.
“Can we go to your place?”
I felt sweat beading on my forehead at that. Why did I ever let him know where I lived?
“It’s okay if you don’t want to mix work with your happy place, I just liked the view and I could do with having a break from my Dad.”
I closed my eyes very briefly, despairing at my own weakness and then decided if I was going to have any kind of relationship – professional only – with Cal, I needed to be honest.
“We can go back to my flat, but any extra activities end now, okay? This is stupid.”
“What’s stupid?”
I didn’t meet his eyes. “Whatever you’re experimenting with, let’s end it now. You can come to my place and you can sit on the balcony, alone. I need to get some sleep.”
“I guess you haven’t had much rest.”
“Try none.”
He glanced up at me. “Why didn’t you sleep in the car while you were waiting for me?”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable under his solemn gaze. “I wasn’t sure if you’d need me.”
Finally, after an eternity he looked away and I watched him nod.
“Okay,” a quiet half sound, “Deal. But I want more of that tea.”
I laughed, and suddenly felt a little better about everything.
~
Cal shucked off his shoes as soon as he walked through the door, in a strange but much more welcome echo of Simon the weekend before. He made himself right at home, collapsing on a chair on the balcony and grinning when I brought him a mug of tea. He snuggled down, looking out at the horizon and I watched the grief set in over the next hour.
I saw him cry a couple of times, I never sat with him, but I did bring him more tea, and eventually a hot chocolate with some alcohol in, because it always made me feel better. He was stupidly happy about being there, although I wasn’t sure if it was so much my company as it was getting his way. I slept for a while in between, feeling as though I should be more exhausted than I was, but after a quick nap I felt more refreshed than I had in a long time.
And everything was fine until I told him to leave, and then all hell broke loose.
“Excuse me?”
“Cal, you’ve been here for seven hours, it’s getting late. I need my sleep. I didn’t say you could sleep here, stop acting like a child.”
“A child? I had my grandmother’s funeral yesterday, I’ve waited patiently all afternoon for you to wake up so we can have an actual conversation and now you’re asking me to leave?”
He got up and stalked back into the living room, where I had retreated when I felt my resolve crumbling.
“Cal -” I sighed and sat down at the breakfast bar. “I just need some time on my own, okay? Please?”
“Nope.”
I looked over at him. He was wearing my fucking jumper, and he made it look incredible. I grimaced and ran a hand through my hair.
“Fine, I’ll leave,” he snarled the words, pouting beautifully.
“Thank you.”
“But I get to ask a question first.” I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “Are you asking me to leave because you want me to go and you need your space, or are you asking me to leave because you’re worried if I stay something might happen?”
I stayed perfectly still, mostly because his determined expression had given me an erection - again.
“I’m asking you to leave because I haven’t had any decent rest and I drove for most of the night.”
“So sleep.”
“You’re such a brat.”
“True,” he walked towards me and I repressed the ridiculous urge to stumble out of my chair and run away, “but at least I’m able to admit when there’s something I want.”
“Cal, shut the fuck up, you’ve never wanted anything except your own way and I’m not interested in anything else you have to offer.”
“Really?” He was very close now. I resisted the urge to push him away.
“Really. I said nothing more and I meant it.”
He backed off half a step and then cocked his head on one side and smiled.
“Can we watch a film?”
“No.”
“I’ll leave if we watch a film.”
“You’ve been here too long already.” But he was walking over to my DVD racks without a second glance. “We’re not watching a film, Cal; I just want to go to bed.”
“So go to bed, I’ll keep the volume on low.” He looked over my collection, “You have heard of this thing called ‘streaming’ films, right? It’s done over the internet.”
And of course I didn’t go to bed. We ended up ordering a takeaway and we sat at opposite ends of the sofa and watched one of my favourite Audrey Hepburn movies How to Steal a Million. It was mostly my favourite because Peter O’Toole was one of the most beautiful men who ever lived.
After the first hour of the movie Cal got up and went to get a footstool and then laid his long legs out on it. He kept glancing at me and I was getting pissed off, so I just sighed and glared at him.
“You’re so moody, seriously. Put your feet up, I won’t bite.”
I wanted to be stubborn about it but my back was hurting from the long drive and I really didn’t have the strength to turn down having any part of my body close to him, so I lifted my feet up along the sofa so they were a few inches from his right thigh and continued to watch the movie.
Then I fell asleep and everything went wrong.
I woke up with a feeling that something was happening that had never happened to me before, and I was also aware that I had fallen asleep like an old man, whilst watching the TV. I opened my eyes, my chin on my chest and my arms crossed, looking along the sofa at Cal, who was massaging my foot.
He was doing it in a kind of absent minded way, but he was too graceful and deliberate in his movements to do anything accidentally. I was poised to pull my foot away from him but it actually felt pretty amazing. I shifted, but he didn’t look over at me, probably knowing that if he looked at me I would make him stop. He kept rubbing from the centre of the ball of my foot down to the heel, and it should have tickled, but it didn’t. I bit my tongue to hold back a groan when his index finger snuck up into the legs of my suit trousers and rubbed along my Achilles, which has always been tight and uncomfortable. I twitched my foot. Still no reaction, his eyes glued to the film.
“Cal,” I muttered quietly.
“Shut up.” And I did. God help me I even scooted a little further down the sofa so he had more of my ankle to play with and turned on my side and watched the film, with him still rubbing my foot in that languid way. I thought about pulling away a hundred times, but I didn’t.
By the end of the film I had a hard-on to end all hard-ons and I got up quickly, pulling away from Cal to go into the kitchen. I needed to occupy myself with something, anything, that didn’t involve rolling Cal onto the floor and tasting his skin.
I was in the kitchen for a while and I hadn’t heard anything from him. I was staring at the lights on the coffee machine, countin
g slowly to ten, when I heard a soft footfall behind me. Shit.
“Cal,” I said in what I hoped was a warning tone. I turned around, then froze.
He was about a pace from me, he had taken his t-shirt and my jumper off, muscles on full display, and I found that it was impossible to move.
“Jesus,” I said quietly, and he took another pace towards me. “No. Stop. Right now.”
“I’m the one who tells you what to do, remember?” And if my traitorous dick hadn’t had enough ammunition already; that sealed the deal. And then Cal ran his hand over my chest, and moved slowly down to the waistband of my trousers. I grabbed his wrist, breathing hard and stared at him.
I wanted to tell him to leave. I wanted to tell him to go and find his fucking t-shirt, put it back on and get a grip on himself, but it wasn’t him who needed to get a grip. I was so turned on I could feel a wet spot on my underwear.
“I thought you said kissing a guy was gross.”
He snorted. “Sure, Jay, sure it is.”
I groaned, tightening my grip on his wrist and trying to push him away. He had all the leverage, however, and used my tight hold to yank me forward and as I opened my mouth to protest he leaned forward and covered my lips with his own.
I was in shock for a fraction of a second and then he was opening for me, his tongue massaging mine and he moaned and pushed me back into the kitchen counter. So I pushed right back and spun us around so he was wedged against the cupboard. I pulled back as he panted for air. I pushed a hand down his beautiful chest and ran it over his dick, which was just as hard as mine. He let out a soft puff of breath as I cradled him and squeezed gently.