by Helena Stone
Mitch gave him a doubtful stare and opened his mouth to reply.
“I think you need to hurry,” Cian said. “Your driver just got on the bus.” As soon as he finished speaking, the bus’s engine kicked in.
“Fuck.” Mitch turned and walked to the coach. He didn’t turn around to look at Cian until he was standing in the open door. “I’ll see you Friday. Good luck on the job.”
“You too.” Cian raised his hand, unsure if he wanted to reach for Mitch or wave him off. When the bus pulled away, the choice didn’t matter anymore.
Cian slowly made his way back home, the words he’d said to Mitch running through his mind on a continuous loop. We’ll figure something out. You’ll see. Something will pop up. He wasn’t sure if he’d managed to convince Mitch, and he sure as hell didn’t believe it himself, but that didn’t stop him from hoping…hoping that the universe would be on their side and provide an answer.
Chapter Seven
Late July
Mitch
Mitch leaned against the front door for a moment after he closed it. After a month of working in the local supermarket, the only positive thing he could say about the job was that it reminded him exactly why he wanted to go to college.
“Is that you, Mitch?” his mother called from the kitchen.
Despite his frustration, Mitch couldn’t help laughing. “If it wasn’t me, you might be in serious trouble.”
His mother stepped into the open doorway between the hall and the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, if you want to shower first.”
“Thanks.” He pushed away from the door and went upstairs where he made quick work of stripping out of his uniform and turning on the shower. He scowled at the pile of clothes on the floor before stepping into the bathtub. Wearing another blue uniform so soon after he’d celebrated getting rid of his school clothes felt like a bad joke.
The warm water washed some of his dark mood away. It wasn’t a bad job as such. The worst thing about it was the mind-numbingly boring sameness of his days. He could have sworn he’d gotten used to time passing at a snail’s pace while he was in school, but the supermarket put a whole new definition on the word “endless”.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he had a visit from Cian to look forward to. But despite being promised he wouldn’t need to work weekends, Cian’s job in Dublin had asked him to do just that a week ago, and he wouldn’t be coming home this weekend either.
And that wouldn’t be the end of the world, Mitch thought as he pulled on a pair of loose trousers and a clean shirt, if he’d still had the prospect of moving in with Cian to look forward to.
He slowly made his way downstairs. The shower had failed to do its job. If he’d felt dejected when he arrived home, he was downright miserable now.
Thankfully, his foul mood didn’t affect his appetite, especially since his mother had gone out of her way and made his favorite dinner of medium-rare steak with chips and salad.
“How was your day?” She asked the same question every day, despite his answer never changing.
“Pretty much the same as yesterday and probably identical to what it will be like tomorrow,” Mitch said, making sure to keep his voice upbeat. He shrugged as he nibbled on a chip. “It’s okay. It’s not as if I have to do it for the rest of my life.” And I’m going to need all the money I can get my hands on. “Did you have a good day?”
Mitch only half listened as his mother told him about the people she’d talked to that day and some major disaster the credit union had only barely managed to prevent.
“I was talking to Mrs. Keenan on the way home. Apparently, her Lauren can’t find anywhere to stay in Dublin either.”
Mitch sat up straight, suddenly paying full attention. “I told you it was impossible. Anything that looks liveable is unaffordable, and anything we might be able to pay for is so bad I wouldn’t expect a dog to move in.”
“Yes, so I saw.”
“What?”
The expression on his mother’s face was decidedly sheepish. “I should have known better, but for a while I thought you and Cian were exaggerating the situation to persuade me moving in together was the only feasible option.”
Anger bubbled up in Mitch so fast it scared him enough to clamp his lips together.
“I’ve been looking online to see how bad it really was,” she continued.
“And?” Mitch was proud he managed to get the word out without sounding too hostile.
“It’s even worse than I thought from what you told me.”
“It’s impossible,” Mitch said. “I guess I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon and that I’ll be spending a lot of time on the bus.”
“Commuting is doable.”
Mitch wondered who his ma was trying to convince: him or herself.
“That’s about the only positive thing you can say about it,” he grumbled. “It’s doable. But it’s not something I’m looking forward to.”
“No, it’s far from ideal. It would be much better if you could have a few years of striking out on your own, discovering the world from your perspective rather than mine…or anybody else’s.” She gave him a hesitant smile. “That’s why I wasn’t in favor of you moving in with Cian.”
“Well, you got what you wanted there,” Mitch said, unable to keep the bitter note from his voice. “I’m glad one of us did.” The anger he’d been fighting wouldn’t be contained any longer. “Of course, the not so funny part about all this is that even if I do manage to find a bed, I will almost certainly end up sharing the room with at least one other person. How is that better than sharing with my boyfriend?” He refrained from mentioning that if he did manage to find somewhere, the people he could end up living with might turn out to be homophobic. He didn’t fancy a choice between returning to the closet or setting himself up for more bullying.
“I know,” his ma admitted. “If it was still an option, I would have been in favor of you moving in with Cian now.”
Mitch stayed silent. Cian would be without a place in Dublin in a matter of weeks, so the concession was meaningless.
His mother got up and cleared the table. She had her back to him when she spoke again. “We still have time. Something is bound to work out. I’m sure of it.”
Mitch swallowed the “whatever” burning on his tongue. “I’m going upstairs,” he said instead. Unless he wanted to fight with his mother, he was better off on his own.
After an hour’s worth of lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling while going over the conversation he’d just had, Mitch admitted to himself that spending the evening on his own was not the best idea. He almost smiled at himself when he realized his boring job might have a second advantage since it provided him with eight hours, five days a week, during which he didn’t have time to obsess about how he was going to manage college next year. Maybe he should go downstairs and watch TV. Whatever was on was bound to be crap, but at least it would distract him. His phone ringing put a stop to those thoughts.
Cian.
“Hey you,” he said as soon as he accepted the call.
“Hey,” Cian answered, managing to make that one word sound despondent.
“You sound about as happy as I am,” Mitch observed, wondering why the knowledge that he wasn’t suffering alone didn’t make him feel better.
“I’m about ready to throw in the towel,” Cian said. “I’ve only got two weeks before I have to move out, and finding something else is impossible.”
“I thought you had a few places to look at today.”
Cian snorted. “Three of those canceled because they’d found someone. The two rooms I did look at just weren’t fit for human occupation.”
Mitch didn’t ask what had been so bad about the accommodation Cian had visited. He’d heard it all in the past. Some lodgings didn’t provide cooking facilities. Others meant sharing a room with one or more strangers. He’d seen people advertise the cupboard under the stairs for rental, as if they were related to Harry Potter�
��s family. Garden sheds weren’t uncommon either. And God knew he’d be willing to consider either of those options if it wasn’t for the fact that the rent involved always priced him out of the market.
“What are you going to do?” Mitch asked.
“Fuck if I know,” Cian said. “I guess I’ll be coming home soon. If there is a silver lining to this whole mess, it is that we’ll get to commute together next year.”
As silver linings went, this one was very dull, but even Mitch couldn’t deny that traveling with Cian would make the four-hour round trip less frustrating.
“I miss you,” he said.
“Yeah, me too.” Cian sighed. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. John and Ray want me.”
“Go for it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Mitch dropped the phone next to him on the bed. These days, even his conversations with Cian failed to cheer him up. His memories of Cian were a different matter, though. He slipped his hand into his underpants as he relived the time Cian had been buried deep inside him. He’d no idea when or where they might find the privacy for a repeat performance, but in the meantime, he’d treasure and enjoy the memory for all it was worth.
The next morning, Mitch took the long way to work, making a detour to walk by the old community hall. It looked as decrepit as it had seven months earlier when he’d fled into the building to escape his bullies. Then he’d expected the place to be deserted and had been shocked to find a small library as well as a very friendly librarian inside. That had been the only time he could remember seeing the front door of the building opened… Until now.
Curious as to what, if anything, he might find today, he walked into the building. Disappointment washed over him when he instantly noticed the hall was empty and probably unsafe. He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to find. Another miracle would be nice.
Despite his bad mood, the thought made him smile. Finding the library had been a lifesaver at a time when he’d been unsure how he’d keep going in the face of the hostility he encountered at school. Subsequently meeting Cian and ending up in a relationship with him had been nothing short of miraculous.
He made his way to the room where the library had been located, taking in the hole in the ground, the torn linoleum on the floor, and the damp patches on the wall. Hardly a place to inspire divine intervention, even less now than it had been then.
He had no trouble imagining the space as it had been for those few weeks. He could still picture Mr. Nichols’ desk over the right and the lazy reading chairs in the opposite corner.
“Mr. Nicols…Klaus…if you can hear me, and if you are in the business of providing miracles, Cian and I could really use one now.” Despite the fact that he was alone, heat rushed to Mitch’s cheeks as he listened to himself pleading with the universe. How desperate was he?
He checked the time on his phone. If he wasn’t careful, he would be late as well as desperate. After giving the room one last glance, Mitch turned on his heel and rushed to the exit, almost bumping into a burly man in a yellow fluorescent vest as he burst through the door.
“Watch it, young man. What are you doing here? This building isn’t safe. You shouldn’t be inside.”
Mitch took in the man and the truck behind him, laden with what looked like scaffolding materials. “Sorry,” he muttered. “The door was open, and I got curious. Are you working on the building?”
“Don’t do it again,” the man said. “And to answer your question, yes, we’re about to start a renovation. By the end of the year, a library should open here.”
“A library? Really?”
The man nodded. “Now move along. We’ve got a job to do.”
Which reminded Mitch that he would almost certainly arrive late at the supermarket.
“Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away, ignoring the man’s bemused face. His foul mood had lessened considerably. Even if the situation was hopeless for him and Cian, at least this old building he’d grown to love over the space of a few weeks had a future again.
Chapter eight
Mid-August
Cian
Cian stared at the front of his parents’ house as his father turned off the car. Home. He guessed he’d never stopped thinking about the place in those terms. Then again, he’d never expected to move back in either.
“Are you going to sit there all day?” his father asked, sounding a bit irritated.
Not that Cian blamed his dad. He was well aware that he’d been less than good company during the journey from Dublin to Castleforest, to put it mildly.
“No.” He opened his door, got out of the car, and walked to the boot where he extracted his backpack and a box. Just before he reached the front door, it opened to reveal his mother, smiling broadly at him.
“There you are, son. Welcome home.”
Cian forced a smile to his face. After all, it wasn’t his mother’s fault he hadn’t been able to find new accommodation in Dublin. And he couldn’t blame her for being happy to have him under her roof again. If there was such a thing as a stereotypical Irish mammy, his mother was it.
“Go and put your stuff in your room. I’ll put the kettle on. Tea ready when you are.” She stood to the side to let him pass before walking to the kitchen.
His old room was nothing like it had been when he moved out. Then the walls had been deep blue and his curtains black. The sea of purple and pink surrounding him now made him squint.
“It’s not fair.”
It was all he could do not to drop the bag containing his laptop at the sudden exclamation coming from behind him. He placed it on the bed and turned, not surprised to find Sarah, his younger sister, standing in the doorway.
“Tell me about it,” he muttered.
“Why do I have to go back to sharing with Pauline, just because you couldn’t figure out how to find a place in Dublin?”
“Leave it, Sarah.” Cian tried to stay calm. “I’m no happier about being here than you are. Trust me.”
“Well, you’d better not change the decor,” she huffed. “I’m taking this back as soon as you’re gone again.”
Hopefully sooner rather than later. Cian kept the thought to himself. He couldn’t blame her for being upset. Having to share with her younger sister again, after two years of enjoying a room of her own, had to be frustrating. Almost as frustrating as having to move back home after two years of freedom. He didn’t say that either. He was here now, and unless he wanted to make everybody’s life pure misery, he had to keep his frustration to himself.
“I’m sorry, munchkin. This wasn’t my preferred option either.”
“And don’t call me munchkin. I’m sixteen years old, not a child.” With a huff and an overstated shake of her head, Sarah stalked off again.
Three more trips up and down the stairs were enough to transfer his meager belongings from the car to his room. He thought about unpacking for about half a second before deciding he wasn’t ready for that yet. Putting his clothes in his old wardrobe, his computer back on his old, be it newly painted, desk would emphasize the permanence of his move.
He made his way to the kitchen, mentally preparing himself for the third degree his mother would no doubt subject him to.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d told her all about the drive back home, reassured her that he really hadn’t forgotten anything, and explained that he was still looking for a room in Dublin but not hopeful about finding one. At that point, Sarah had left the kitchen table and stalked away, slamming the door on her way out.
“What about your housemates?” his mother asked.
“They’re okay, Cian replied. “John moved in with his girlfriend.” They’d been talking about that for a while, and the landlord’s letter had made the decision for them. “And Ray went back to his parents.” Of course, Ray’s parents lived in one of the suburbs of Dublin, making his displacement less drastic than Cian’s.
“They were talking about that on the radio earlier,” his mother said. “Apparently a lot of adult
children are more or less forced to move in with their parents. It’s a sad state of affairs when even those with good jobs can’t afford to live in a place of their own.”
Cian nodded. There was no point telling his mother she was stating the obvious and that she didn’t say anything he hadn’t thought at least a hundred times himself.
“What time do you need to be at the McCann’s tonight?” she asked after she’d exhausted her interrogation.
“Around half six.” Cian reflected how strange it was that his mother hadn’t objected to the idea when he first told her about the invitation. He’d been sure his mother would be upset about him spending his first evening back home in Mitch’s house, but to his shock, she’d been all for it.
“That’s nice.” She smiled broadly for reasons Cian didn’t understand.
Come to think of it, his mother’s reaction, or rather lack thereof, wasn’t the only thing baffling Cian. He had no idea why Mitch’s mother had invited him, or why she’d asked him not to tell Mitch he’d be joining them for dinner. On second thought, Mitch had been down in the dumps at least as much as Cian was, so maybe she just wanted to cheer him up by surprising him.
Cian picked up his mug and finished his tea. There was little point worrying about it. He’d find out what, if anything, was going on in a matter of hours.
“What the fuck?”
It wasn’t the reaction Cian might have hoped for, but Mitch’s outburst as he opened the door did indicate Cian’s arrival was unexpected.
“Surprise!” Cian said.
“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be busy with your family today.” Mitch was calmer but no less shocked.
“Your mother invited me to dinner,” Cian said. “Who am I to say no?”