Tigers and Devils

by Sean Kennedy

“I know I shouldn’t. But I still did. Because of what you do, it’s like you get this free pass.”

  “I’m not getting a free pass,” Declan said heavily.

  “You know what I mean. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Simon…,” he murmured.

  I finally let myself relax against him.

  “You’re my man, Simon.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know that, I know that. All the rest can go to hell.”

  Calmed, I closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly.

  AT SOME point during the night I stirred awake and realised by his breathing that Declan was as well.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked groggily.

  “Just thinking,” he replied, sounding more alert than me.

  “About?”

  “Everything.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Well, more specifically about you meeting my siblings, now that I’ve met yours.”

  “Should I be worried now?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, they might give you a bit of shit, but they won’t mean anything by it.”

  “Then why are you wide awake, thinking about it?”

  “Just because.”

  I yawned. “Makes sense.” I rolled over to face him and draped my arm over his waist. “Do you ever wish you could swap with them?”

  “Swap what?”

  “Lives.”

  “Like Freaky Friday?”

  “The Jodie Foster version, yeah.”

  “No. I like my life. Everybody has their problems.”

  “Sometimes it seems that others’ problems aren’t as tough.”

  “It’s all relative,” Declan replied. “You can’t dismiss someone else’s pain so easily.”

  “I guess.”

  “Are you telling me you would want to swap lives with Tim?”

  I shuddered. “No. But I can’t help but think about it sometimes.”

  “You?”

  I swallowed hard, finding it difficult to admit the next thing I would say. “It’s just that sometimes I envy Tim.”

  “And you don’t think he envies you sometimes?”

  “Come off it.”

  “Seriously. He’d look at you and see university educated, working in a job with a lot of responsibility, in the media, supporting himself—to him, you’re probably some superconfident guy who gets everything he wants in life. And now you have the hot celebrity boyfriend—”

  I shook my head. “Now, seriously, get your hand off it.”

  He laughed. “I’m just saying it can go both ways. Why do you envy him?”

  I sighed. “Because he knows what he wants, and he never seems to question it. It’s like he’s known all along what he’s destined to do, and he just does it. And now he’s about to get married, and sooner or later they’ll pop out some kids—”

  “So it’s the traditional dream you want?”

  “No,” I retorted. But I had to be honest. “Maybe. Well, the thought crosses my mind sometimes. Doesn’t it with you?”

  “Of course. I always think about the future.”

  “But it’s not so easy with us.”

  “Which explains probably why you don’t like to think about the future.”

  “It’s scary enough dealing with life day to day without taking into consideration the hugeness of the future.”

  “There’s nothing to say we can’t have that kind of life. Just it will come differently.”

  “How much do you think about it?” I asked.

  “As much as anybody else does.”

  “The home in the suburbs? The kids?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With me?”

  “No, with the guy I’m going to dump you for.”

  I yawned, sleep wanting to take me again. “Do you think about the logistics?”

  “Dreams aren’t meant to include logistics. This is where you think too much.”

  “Somebody has to in a relationship. For example, how do we get kids? Do you and Jess enter an arrangement where she has a kid for us and then a kid for herself?” Lost in trying to imagine such an arrangement, I continued, “but then if she’s using your soldiers, that means the kids are split up, which isn’t fair on them.”

  Humouring me, Declan grinned. “We’ll use your soldiers, then.”

  “Same problem. Or to try and ensure we get something resembling a child from both of us, maybe your sister can bear us a kid.”

  “Now you’re making me scared.”

  “See, this is why you should think day to day.”

  “You’ve convinced me for now.”

  “I guess we could always buy a baby.”

  Declan winced and tried not to laugh. “I’m so glad you’ve never said anything like this in your interviews.”

  “What?”

  “Well, your humour is pretty selective.”

  “It’s what most celebrities or rich people do, isn’t it? We could buy a little African toddler and call him Senze-tonguecluck-niña.”

  “Simon, shut up!” Declan was now holding his stomach.

  I rested one of my hands over his and whispered, “I’d love to have a family with you one day. One day far away. Far, far, away. But one day.”

  “Got it,” Declan said. “It’s good to hear, though.”

  It sounded good to me too.

  Chapter 24

  “I’M THE fifth wheel now,” Nyssa complained, having to yell slightly to be heard above the music as we sat in the back room at the Napier. “I liked Simon better when he was desperate and dateless.”

  I threw a beer coaster at her, and she screamed as it hit her in the forehead. “For your information,” I told her, “I was never desperate and dateless. You have to actually want a date in order to be desperate and dateless.”

  “You wanted it,” Fran accused me. “You just didn’t know it then.”

  “Bullshit,” I countered brilliantly.

  “She’s right,” Roger said maddeningly.

  “Of course you’d agree with her.”

  “I have to. She wrote it into our vows.” He received a punch in the arm from his gracious wife for that one. “Ow. Anyway, we can tell you wanted it because of how quickly you’ve settled into coupled bliss.”

  “I’m not sunk in coupled bliss,” I lied.

  The three of them cackled and jeered in an unintelligible cacophony.

  “What are you, then?” Nyssa asked.

  “I am now… quite content.” I grinned.

  Roger made heaving noises.

  The beer coaster I had thrown at Nyssa now boomeranged off the end of my nose, and I rubbed it with an injured air. While the others continued to laugh at me, I swung slightly in my chair to see where Declan had gotten to. As I suspected, he was holed up at the bar with fans surrounding him. He had his polite public face on even though he was trying to juggle five drinks and a large packet of barbecue chips.

  “Do you think he needs a hand?” Fran asked, looking too comfortable to get up.

  I lazily waved my hand. “Nah, he’s with his adoring public. We’d only cramp his style.”

  It was something I had to get used to; being the invisible half of a semipublic couple. I know, play the violins, right? It wasn’t like I cared; I didn’t want any publicity myself, but I didn’t enjoy being shoved unceremoniously aside whenever some unknown person would target Declan and fawn over him until they got his autograph or made some comment about his career he’d heard a thousand times before. In a way, it was gratifying that Declan was having his fears assuaged that the public were generally accepting of him. I was just glad he tended to keep off the Internet; I was learning to stay away from certain forums myself.

  “Sorry about that,” Declan said, sliding back into his seat. The beers sloshed slightly onto the table and soaked the packet of chips. Fran picked it up distastefully before wiping the wrapper down and opening them up for everyone.

  “The beer’s prob
ably warm by now, mate,” Roger chided him.

  “Stick it outside for three minutes, it’ll be fine,” Declan shot back.

  “I’ll take it whatever way it comes,” I said, reaching for my pot.

  “Isn’t that what they’re saying about you in the press?” Roger asked innocently.

  We all stared at him, and he took a nervous gulp of his beer.

  Declan shook his head and grinned at me.

  Things were pretty good at the moment. Even though Nyssa and I were working full steam at the moment, and we had to fit our family and friends into our schedule in short bursts, thankfully I now had Declan to hand me a coffee in the mornings and feed Maggie when I didn’t get home in time. Unfortunately it also meant I had very little time for him either. But hopefully it would get back on track within a couple of weeks as the festival was starting tomorrow night and previous experience had taught me it would pass all too quickly after the buildup.

  “Have you heard from your parents yet?” Fran asked.

  “You know my parents have never believed in the concept of RSVP,” I reminded her.

  I had sent Mum and Dad an invitation to the opening night. I called during the week and found out that Dad was apparently upset with the way I had “stormed off” from the party and how I had apparently slighted him as well. I had tried to explain to her how I had been upset myself and gave her the details of our conversation. Mum wasn’t that sympathetic.

  “He asked you a question,” she said.

  “It was a dumb question.”

  “How are people meant to know things if they never ask?”

  She had me there. But she wouldn’t have understood if I had tried to tell her that after a lifetime of getting snide accusations posed as innocent questions, sometimes it was hard to tell when somebody meant it in good faith (although perhaps worded badly).

  Maybe I should have told her that, after all how are people meant to know? But I was tired and not ready for a deep and meaningful conversation when I was currently surviving on four hours of sleep a night. And not for a nice, fun reason like being distracted by Dec.

  So I sent them the invite instead, hoping that it would show them there were no hard feelings and they would take it in the good faith it was intended. And like I told Roger, my parents never responded to RSVPs.

  “You could just call them,” Fran said.

  Declan held his hands up in the recognised international symbol for Why yes, that would be the most obvious thing to do, but that’s not the way my dickhead boyfriend does things. Fran caught it and smiled.

  “Ball’s in their court,” I said shortly.

  “‘Ball’s in their court,’” Roger mimicked. “Where have I heard that before?”

  I ignored him by munching on a chip.

  “Poor baby,” Declan said sweetly, “are we all ganging up on you?”

  “Fuck off,” I told him.

  “Mr. Congeniality strikes back.” Nyssa giggled. “Speaking of which, boss, isn’t it time for us to get back to work?”

  Unfortunately, it was.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your boy,” Fran told me.

  “He can take care of himself,” I said. Out of force of habit, I found myself leaning in for a kiss, and then I remembered where I was and pulled away. Declan grabbed me by the zipper of my jacket and pulled me back in for a peck on my lips.

  “Idiot,” he whispered.

  Nobody had seemed to notice; our usual corner was kind of darkish. I shook my head slightly and said, “Call you when I’m on my way home.”

  Roger and Fran watched me sombrely as they said their good-byes in unison like the creepy kids from The Shining. It freaked me out how couples did that, and I hoped Dec and I would never do the same.

  Nyssa and I unwillingly left the warmth of the pub and walked out onto Napier Street, heading for my car. I had fallen into the habit of driving to work ever since the media barrage had started, and even though that had now fallen off, my reliance upon the car and sheer laziness had won out. Plus, I just didn’t feel as anonymous on public transport that I used to.

  “What was all that about?” Nyssa asked, pulling her gloves on as we walked through the brisk night air.

  “What?”

  “You know what.” Nyssa stuck her gloved hands into her pockets; it was that cold.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so funny about being out in public with someone before.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never gone out with someone who came with their own press officer before either.”

  “Well, Declan seemed pretty okay about it.”

  It was getting quieter the further we got away from the pub, and I dropped my tone accordingly. “Declan doesn’t quite get the enormity of it. It’s just too new for him.”

  “What’s too new? Stop being so vague.”

  “Being out. It’s different for him than it is for the rest of us.”

  We had reached my car; Nyssa walked over to the passenger side and draped her arms over the roof while she waited for me to open the doors. “What, he got some special pass?”

  “Kind of.” I settled into my seat, put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the car. “He’s a celebrity, Nyss. People treat him differently. They’re in awe of him. He might get some lighthearted ribbing but he doesn’t get the other shit.”

  “Didn’t he turn up at the office with the effects of some lighthearted ribbing on his face?” Nyssa pointed out.

  She had me on that one. It was too hard to explain to those who didn’t have to live it.

  “It seems to me Declan’s handling it well, and you’re the one who’s acting like you want to lock yourself back in the closet.”

  I turned the ignition and threw the car into gear. “Shut up with your perception and your insightful judgements. We have a festival to run.”

  I TRIED not to wake Declan as I crawled into bed in the early hours of the morning. He stirred anyway and groaned as he rolled over to turn on the banker’s lamp.

  “Go back to sleep,” I told him.

  “Why didn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked.

  Direct and to the point. “Dec, I’m exhausted.”

  “Is that your reason?”

  “I’ll kiss you now, if you want.”

  He closed his eyes, and I hoped he would fall asleep again. But his eyes sprang open, now clear and piercingly alert. “Don’t try the cute act, even though you do it so well.”

  “I’m cute?” I turned on the bashful smile for him.

  “I said can it,” he growled.

  “Fine.” It was a tiring act, anyway.

  “So what was it all about then?”

  He remained propped up against his pillows while I lay beside him. “You just have to be more careful, that’s all. You’re still… adjusting. There are rules to public conduct.”

  “Oh.” Declan clicked his fingers sarcastically. “I didn’t know, because I wasn’t given the queer handbook when I came out. Is there a number I can call to get one sent to me?”

  “It’s like cats and hunting. It’s intuitive.”

  “So you’re saying I’m a lousy cat?”

  I tried not to smile on this woeful analogy I had started. “Yeah, you’re missing some kind of generational chromosome.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Simon, it’s like I have an invisible sign over my head announcing my sexuality to everybody. I don’t feel like I have to hide it anymore. Why the fuck can’t I kiss my boyfriend good-bye, like any other guy would with his girlfriend?”

  “Because it’s not safe! You have to choose your moments.”

  “You didn’t feel safe in the Napier?”

  I sighed. “Not when I’m walking out into the dark street immediately afterward with only Nyssa to protect me. You know, Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle may be one of her favourite movies, but I really don’t think she can fight like Drew Barrymore if it came down to it.”

  �
��That may be the gayest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  “No, the gayest thing you’ve probably heard me say is ooh Declan yes yes.”

  Declan tried not to laugh. “Stop the cute act!”

  I gave him my cutest smile. “But it comes so naturally.”

  He traced his hand down my side, stopping at the hem of my boxers. “Okay, I get it. There’s a time and a place.”

  “I hate thinking this way, you know.”

  Concern crossed his eyes. “Have you ever been…?”

  “No. But you always know someone who did. It happens. Jesus, Dec, it’s already happened to you. I guess it scares me more than I like to think it does.”

  He kissed me. “Hey, it was different with me.”

  “Yeah, it was someone you knew.”

  “I don’t think it was so much to do with me being gay, though. It was more to do with him thinking I had betrayed Jess.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You don’t think I worry about when you first go back on the field next year?”

  “Hey,” he said gently. “You’re forgetting I’ll have eighteen other guys to back me up if anything happens.”

  “I guess that’s something.”

  “You know, I could always call them in to walk you to your car next time I’m stupid enough to kiss you in a crowded pub.”

  “Goodnight, Declan,” I said grumpily.

  But I think I fell asleep with a smile on my face anyway.

  “ABE and Lisa are meeting us there, right?”

  “Yep. They’re catching a taxi in. Same with Roger and Fran.”

  I walked into the bedroom, fresh from brushing my teeth. Declan was looking resplendent in a deep red shirt and black pants.

  “Do I look respectable enough as the partner of the festival director?” Declan asked.

  “All that and a bag of chips,” I said approvingly. “That red will show up well on the cameras. Especially Alice Provotna’s.”

  “Shit, should I change?”

  “Nope.”

  “I see you’re wearing your usual uniform,” he said dryly.

  I was all in black, although I was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt over my shirt.

  “There’s a colour on the back,” I told him.

  Declan peered around me and shook his head at the print of Patty Hearst. “You making some kind of statement?”