"Be nice to him, Nathan," Will warns.
" I am being nice. This is me with my nice face on. Kieran, pray continue. I'd love to know what Will's told you about me."
"Well, I...I..." Kieran takes a deep breath, and I almost envy him that. The oxygen rushing through his lungs, the perfect, indisputable sign of life. "The two of you met during the war through your..."
I roll my eyes, a camp, over-dramatic move, but I can't resist. "I believe the phrase you're looking for is ex-boyfriend."
"Nathan. Remember how difficult this is for Kieran too."
I glare at Will. Something in his tone riles me, makes me feel patronised, and he's the one asking me for a favour?
Still, as he said, given the connection between us, who else would he ask?
Chapter 6
ADAM WAS ALWAYS AROUND. I was indisputably drawn to him. As well as the attraction I did my damnedest to keep to myself, there was something else there. An aura of danger that went above and beyond the fact that he could furnish me with black market goods with apparent ease.
I was a bloody sergeant, for God's sake, doing important but incredibly boring war work. In modern parlance, a pen-pusher. I couldn't be seen to consort with someone like Adam, but consort I did.
But those coincidental, "fancy seeing you here" meetings occurred so frequently, I began to expect him to be around. When I got used to expecting him, I wanted him to be there. He wore me down. And he fascinated me. I knew he was gay. There. I said it. I knew he was as gay as I was. Am. Don't ask me how I knew; I just did.
Perhaps it was in the way he looked me in the eye as I spoke, momentarily dipping his gaze to my mouth. Double entendres so subtle, I had to stop and ask myself, Did he mean what I think he meant?
And hints dropped into the conversation like shards of glass. Pretty to contemplate, but with the potential to hurt. He never spoke of female lovers.
References to his past were gender-ambiguous.
Claims to not be like other people.
I just assumed he was homosexual; I didn't think there was any more to it than that. Of course, I knew there was something more, but I had no inkling of the truth. Not then.
Not until Adam died in front of me.
It happened on one of our evening walks.
There had never been any physical contact between us. Nothing prolonged. He'd pass me some of that black market food I wasn't to ask him about, fingers would brush, but that was it. Enough to shoot electricity up my arm, and I could barely stop myself jumping back. No physical contact, so certainly no kiss. I spent ages each day trying to convince myself I wasn't thinking about kissing him. Something told me he'd accept it, was expecting it even, but that same something held me back. I was never a great one for making the first move.
It took a car to do it. During the blackout, car accident statistics increased exponentially for obvious reasons; cars sped with no lights on, people didn't look where they were going.
Adam, though...Sometimes it seemed like he was showing off. He'd do things for a dare, as he put it, but I wasn't the one daring him. He'd come up with crazy ideas, like walking backwards in the middle of the road after dark. Even when the streets were narrow and difficult to navigate if one wasn't familiar with the layout. I was, of course, but Adam's company threw me. "Let's take this route," or "Let's see what's up this alley."
I'd tell myself he was trying to get me alone, in an out-of-the-way place. Then I'd tell myself he wasn't; it was just my own wishful thinking.
I couldn't deny I wanted him. But I didn't have the courage to do anything about it. Courage was a strange thing to think about. One might say it's brave to deny one's own desires, but if I was that brave, I'd have banished Adam or walked away. Never had anything to do with him again.
Denied myself.
So. Walking backwards in the middle of the road just to see what it was like. And to scare me, judging by his laughter. I couldn't make out his face, of course, but he laughed when I told him to get the hell away from the road; anyone could come speeding round the corner at any second.
"They drive slowly these days," Adam said.
"Besides, I'll hear any cars coming."
"You won't have time to get out of the way. Come on, Adam, stop this. I need to get back to my boarding house."
Adam never came back with me. I was, I think, grateful for that. As a consequence, I didn't have to worry about explaining his presence to my landlady, Mrs. Hudson. Not that there was anything wrong with saying, "This is a colleague of mine, Adam Locke. I invited him back for a cup of tea."
If we were alone together, indoors ...I'd shake my head every time I thought of that, and I thought of it often. Too bloody often, judging by the erection that wouldn't go away until I succumbed and saw to it myself. And always, always, expecting some degree of satisfaction and feeling nothing but shame.
"When the war's over, you'll find yourself a nice girl and settle down, I expect," Mrs. Hudson would often say, pressing a cup and saucer into my reluctant hands. "You'll have your pick of them."
Perhaps she was complimenting me on my looks. More likely, she was making a sideways reference to the fact so many men wouldn't come back and I'd be outnumbered by the fairer sex. I knew that was what had happened to her during the First World War. Passing comments about her "darling Henry" and there never being anyone else for her.
I'd think of my own father and sigh mournfully, almost grateful he wasn't around anymore to look inside his son's head and be appalled by the thoughts he'd find there.
"Carry on the family name, son," he'd no doubt have said if he'd survived into my adulthood.
I attempted to suppress a shudder every time I entertained the thought, knowing that one day, I'd probably have to perform my duty and...
"You worry too much," Adam sing-songed, and he had my full attention.
"No bloody wonder. There's a---"
"---war on, you know," he interrupted in a little old lady voice. "Blackout, blitz spirit, doing our bit."
The sound of his footsteps ceased, and I became still too, hands thrust deep into my pockets as I stood on the pavement, looking into blackness and seeing very little but different degrees of night.
"Tell me, Nathan, where do you think all of those little treats come from?"
"Adam."
"Who would have thought a mere banana could bring a grown man such pleasure?"
Him and his bloody double entendres.
"Adam. Be quiet!"
"Don't tell me. Loose lips sink ships. I'm sure old Adolf is over there, masterminding his empire, positively seething over the fact you had something in your mouth you shouldn't."
Christ. I gulped. "Please. Just get out of the road."
"You worry too much."
"Adam."
"I love the way you say my name like that."
"Stop it."
"Why do you panic so much?"
"Because there's a war on. You're messing about in the middle of the road. There are no streetlights, a car could come along at any moment ---"
"I've told you. I'd hear it."
"And you don't. Fucking. Care!"
I gasped as soon as I'd spoken. There was no response from Adam. I couldn't hear anything from him---not a breath, a footstep, any movement suggested by the fabric of his overcoat brushing against his other clothing. Nothing.
I hadn't meant it the way it had sounded, but truth has a way of making itself known. I fought back tears, sure I'd played my hand too soon. I shouldn't have played it at all. Damn it. I'd made a fool of myself. My father would have been ashamed if he'd still been around; my mother too, God rest her.
Besides, I could always plead temporary insanity, brought about by Adam standing in the middle of the road, making me worry. I could defend myself by saying, "I meant, you don't care about the fact that a car could come speeding round the corner," and hope to be believed.
"Nathan."
Slowly, slowly, I exhaled. At least he was still th
ere. Still speaking to me, even if it was only my name.
Then, laughter. And a dismissive, "You worry too much."
"Yeah." Breath whooshed out of me, painfully fast. "You're probably right. But even so, could you just...?"
"Come and get me."
"What?" I couldn't see the end of my own nose, let alone across the street, or wherever Adam was standing. "You expect me to just step out there and put my own life at risk as well?"
"Such a hero." There was laughter in his voice, but it didn't sound malicious. Playful, rather than sarcastic. "You won't put your life at risk to save little old me?" A pause. I waited for him to speak again. "Yes, you're probably right." The laughter in his voice was gone now, replaced with something mournful. "Never put your life at risk, Sergeant, at least for me. Content yourself with black market goods---"
"Ssh."
"There's no one around."
"How would you know? You can't see them."
"No, but I'd hear them."
"Just like you think you'd be able to hear a car coming?"
"From miles away. And if there were any people about, I'd smell them---nasty, grubby little things. Most of the people in this area seem to think bathing isn't just rationed, but illegal."
Who didn't know His Majesty himself had been the one to mark the baths in Buckingham Palace at the five-inch line to ensure a set amount of water was used at bath time and no more?
"Now you're being foolhardy and cruel."
"I told you. Come and get me."
I took a step closer and could have sworn I heard him laughing.
Maybe he did have supernatural hearing after all. Or extraordinary night vision. Some way of sensing that I was seriously thinking of doing what he asked.
I gasped; my head flicked up, even though I couldn't see anything. It was a case of my unseeing eyes automatically searching for the thing I'd heard, somewhere in the distance.
"Adam, get out of the damn road. There's a car coming."
"I know, I know." Playful again.
But it all happened too fast. My feet turned to concrete, preventing me from moving any closer to him. I wasn't sure what I could have done even if I had been able to see him clearly. The car's driver had no sense of decent speed, and with its approach came a jolt of adrenaline through my system, that flash of horror that made me croak out Adam's name, unable to shout or do anything useful.
That horrific thud, and no further sound but the car's momentum carrying it forward. No broken glass, no wail of alarm from Adam as he flew over the vehicle. Nothing.
It was only then I was able to move. I didn't care about the risk of another car speeding around the same corner; what were the chances of lightning striking twice, within seconds or even minutes?
I must have thrown myself halfway across the road, groping around in darkness while along the road, while who knew how many yards away, the car screeched to a halt. Eventually, gasping, I made contact. A leg, seemingly unbroken. I hoped my helpless groping wouldn't cause Adam any more pain than he must have already been in.
"Adam... Adam..." Still unable to speak properly, I couldn't raise my voice above a whisper. He was lying too still for comfort---far too still. But it had only been a bump, surely? That thud I heard was the car merely clipping him. That had to be the case.
"Adam?" The only sound I heard was my own breathing, made shallow by panic. I'd thought about touching him, but never like this. His chest didn't rise and fall, and I prayed that was down to my inability to detect his breathing. He'd merely been knocked unconscious, right?
"Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?" The driver had evidently felt something, stopped, and climbed out of his car, anxious to know if he'd made himself an...what did the Good Book call it? An "accidental manslayer."
"Adam, you idiot." I thumped his chest, willing him to breathe. "Why did you have to...?"
Answering the driver's call didn't matter to me now. Adam was the important one.
"Anyone? Is anyone there?"
I just wanted him to shut up. Or go away.
Lord knew how I was going to deal with this. And at work? At work. Oh, God. Having to explain to my superiors what the hell I'd been doing with this man who'd taken it upon himself to be standing in the middle of the road after nightfall, and they'd investigate and find out who he was, and if he had a criminal record, they'd uncover his black market activities, and I'd be in so much trouble, I couldn't see straight, and if they so much as suspected what I felt for him, what our association was all about...
"Breathe, Nathan. Breathe." Unusual that I was telling myself that.
"Get the torch, darling; I should have a look and see."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Harold. It was probably just an animal."
"Bloody big one, if you ask me."
"A dog, then. People can't afford to feed them anymore so they just let them roam free."
"Just get the bloody torch, will you?"
"What about the wardens? They'll---"
"Jennifer."
Presumably, Jennifer did as she was told. I hoped...I didn't know what I hoped. That she'd find it, wouldn't find it, that we'd get away before we were discovered. What was I thinking? That I would get away. Adam was in no fit state to---
Bloody hell, Stephenson; call yourself a sergeant? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Pity that bullet went through your leg and not your useless brain.
Shamed by my own selfishness, I lowered my burning face to Adam's, listening closely. Heard nothing. Tilted my ear to his mouth, but nothing still. One hand on his chest, I couldn't detect any signs of life.
"Oh, fuck. Adam, why did you have to..."
There was no wind, no sounds masking his breathing, because his breathing simply wasn't there. I didn't want to say the word, nor even think it, but in a few short seconds, the bottom had dropped out of my world, and I had no idea at all how I was going to deal with all this.
"I did it for fun, you bloody idiot."
I gasped, turning to face him again. "You...?"
And in the distance, "It's in the glove compartment, where it always is. What do you mean you can't...?"
"You weren't breathing," I said.
"I know. I never do."
"You idiot. You bloody, bloody, damned idiot; what the hell---?"
"Oh, stop moaning; I'm still alive, aren't I?"
His shoulders shuffled a little in a horizontal shrug.
"Kind of."
"Adam. I couldn't..."
"You couldn't what?"
"I couldn't hear; you weren't..."
"Oh, it's not this breathing nonsense again, is it? Well, I guess you had to find out sooner or later."
"Find out what?"
"What I really am. Hey, I just thought, if I hadn't let you know I was okay at the moment I did ---"
"I would have gone on panicking and wondering what the hell to do."
"Just shut up and answer my question before those idiots come along and disturb us; they're still arguing about the damned torch, but---"
"How do you know?"
"How do I know what? That they're arguing about the torch? I can hear them from here. Now listen."
Only Adam Locke could sound so commanding while lying flat on his back --- Careful, Stephenson. Careful where your thoughts lead you---in the middle of the road.
"If I hadn't spoken when I did..."
I leaned in closer. All the better to hear you with.
"...would you have given me the kiss of life?"
Breath trapped in my throat, and it felt like an eternity before I was able to exhale again. And it was only then, in the near-silence of that darkened street, that I realised he still wasn't breathing.
Idiot, I told myself. He's probably just holding his breath, waiting for you to answer.
"Hel l o? Hello?" In the distance, watery yellow light arced from left to right, alerting us to the driver's advances.
"Shit; he's coming back." Adam grabbed me and hauled us b
oth to our feet. One would have thought I'd have helped him, but he was more in control than I. As if he'd been in this situation countless times before, running away from trouble.
Or knowing him, more than likely causing it.
We tripped to the opposite side of the street, only just dodging that arcing beam of light, and I was too out of breath with panic and adrenaline to ask Adam why we were running away; he was the one who'd been run over, and it was me who was slower, thanks to the ache in my thigh playing up again. Me, out of breath and him pulling me along behind him like he did this every day. Maybe he did.
"You didn't answer my question." Not panting or out of breath at all, Adam steadied me against a random wall; I wasn't sure where we were but trusted my sense of direction to come back to me along with my senses. Soon.
"What question?"
"Would you have given me the kiss of life?"
He leaned in so close, I could have breathed him in.
"I..." I gulped. I'd waited for this sort of conversation for weeks, and now that it was here, I didn't know how to cope with it. "Why did you pull us away from..." I looked in the general direction of where I thought we'd come from.
"From all that? You were the one who was injured, after all."
"Was I injured?"
"You know what I mean."
"Didn't want to hang around. And yes, yes, I know the driver could have stopped immediately and got out, and I would have been discovered then, but they never do. Speeding cars, right round a corner, bump, they panic, the realisation doesn't hit them until they're miles away. Okay, yards. Then you've got the braking distance. They always end up a hundred yards away before you even hit the ground again."
"You've done this before?" He's asking me about the kiss of life, and he's exercised his death wish before. Good God; this is one hell of an evening you're having, Stephenson.
"Many a time."
"But why?"
He shrugged; the fabric of his coat rustled against itself. "For fun."
"You have got a very unusual sense of fun; I can tell you that."
"Ah." He leaned in closer, and my breath caught. "But don't you, too?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"Young man like you. What are you? Late twenties? Early thirties?"
Bring Me to Life Page 6