The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  Outside, David seemed to shrink again. That little blossom of confidence I had inspired in him shrivelled and faded the moment we were in public, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as we walked along the pavement. When we were a few metres from my house, I decided to do something about it. He flinched when I inched my hand into his coat pocket so I could take hold of his hand, but when he realised what I was doing, he calmed down and even offered me a smile. Since he was absolutely against the idea of us holding hands in full view of the people driving along the main road, I decided to go easy on him and instead held onto his arm, which worked perfectly for me because it let me lean my head against his shoulder and gave me a better idea of when he went tense. The air had the woody scent of autumn that I likened to burning paper, and though there was still the sensation of moisture from the passing rain, the sun had broken through the clouds and was lighting the sky.

  Arnos Vale cemetery wasn’t far from my house, so it didn’t take us long to get there. The cemetery itself was established in the early 1800s and it sprawled wide over a rising and falling landscape of slopes and small hills that had been consumed by self-seeded trees after a period of dereliction. In the last couple of decades, the cemetery had received a grant for restoration, and bit by bit the remarkable ornamental gravestones were being reclaimed from the forest, the vines cut from the carved crosses and angel statues to reveal their intricate details beneath. At the side of the chapel near the front of the cemetery, part of the refurbished building had been expanded with a glass structure where the café was seated. I had been here lots of times, times when I wanted to wander around somewhere that I knew would be safe as there were always others visiting, tourists and locals alike, but that would also give me privacy to think. There was something so peaceful about the place.

  “I’ll show you some of the really interesting monuments,” I told David as we walked through the wrought iron gates.

  “You’re a very strange man, Tenny.” He beamed at me, which only made me laugh.

  “It’s not strange! It’s all part of history,” I stuck out my tongue at him.

  The café was a short walk from the entrance, and as soon as we got there, I discovered that lots of other people had had the same idea because it was quite busy. We bought some toasted sandwiches and tea to go, choosing to head outside with our purchases instead of squeezing in amongst the parents with small children and little old ladies that needed the chairs more than we did.

  “Wanna try mine?” I offered David the steaming panini as he fumbled to unwrap his own from the paper in which it was rolled.

  “No, thanks, I don’t like fish all that much,” he confessed, seeming incredibly apologetic that he had rejected my offer.

  “Don’t you? I can’t get enough of it. I love tuna; I swear I eat it every single day,” I told him, walking alongside him as we left the patio of the café and meandered along one of the paths into the cemetery. “When I was a kid, I’d have whole tins of tuna for supper. I’d drain out the brine and eat it with a fork on its own, or sometimes I’d squirt salad cream on top and eat it like that.”

  “Gross.” He laughed before holding his sandwich towards me. “Would you like to try mine?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t like ham all that much,” I imitated his own words and we both chuckled.

  “Really? You don’t like ham?” He seemed surprised by this.

  “No, it’s too salty, and mustard gives me a sore throat,” I replied as we found a bench on which to perch. It was damp from the rain but we didn’t care. I seated myself at his side, shuffling closer until we touched, and when I looked up, I found him blushing.

  “Well, I’ll know never to make you a ham and mustard sandwich in future,” he spoke timidly as he placed his cardboard cup at his feet.

  “I’ll keep the tuna sandwiches to myself, too.” I grinned, leaning against him and enjoying the press of his body through my coat. I could tell he was starting to get used to my close proximity because he didn’t jump out of his skin quite as much.

  We ate in silence for a while, the two of us munching and listening to a wood pigeon hooting over the twitter of the smaller birds in the swaying branches overhead. All around, the grey shapes of headstones and statues loomed through the greenery, their crumbling exteriors darkened by the rain and spattered with bird droppings.

  “When I was younger, I was too scared to go into cemeteries like this,” he eventually spoke.

  “Oh? How come?”

  He sniffed and rubbed his nose in his sleeve as he peered at his half-eaten food. “Well, umm. Someone close to me passed away and…”

  “Oh, I see. You can tell me, I’ll understand.” I glanced at him with a comforting smile as I placed a hand on his leg. This alarmed him because his eyes widened, so I lifted it again and continued to eat, trying to make the gesture seem as natural as possible. I didn’t want to make him nervous.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, but I could see in his eyes that he was upset.

  “It does, because I can see it’s still hurting you,” I stated as I shifted to face him. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought it’d upset you. I’m sorry, David.”

  “No, no, it’s not your fault,” he assured me. “Like I said, things are better now. After she died, that’s when I started to get really depressed, and if I saw a graveyard on television, it used to make me heave and I felt like I’d be sick. The depression was totally debilitating.”

  “Are you doing much better now?” I gazed at him fondly. I was amazed he was confessing this to me and it made me certain that he trusted me with this delicate information.

  “Much better. Not perfect, but…better.” He shrugged slightly. “I’m still depressed, but I can actually leave the house now.”

  “Good,” I cooed, stroking his cheek with my finger. I saw the twinkle of what might have been tears in his eyes, but he didn’t remove his spectacles to wipe them away.

  “I saw your picture on the Internet,” he began slowly, licking his lips. “I thought you were the most handsome man I had ever seen. It took me months to get the courage to leave the house to try and find you.”

  “You’re so brave. I never would have had the guts to do something like that,” I replied in astonishment.

  He looked at me sideways, his cheeks still reddened. “It was a slow process. Step by step until I was able to finally set foot in the club. But all the people and the noise frightened me and made me have so many panic attacks. One time it was so bad, I was catatonic. I woke up in hospital the next day.”

  “David, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I feel like it’s my fault.” I moved closer so I could lean against him, my hand caressing his neck and my fingertips clawing through his hair.

  “No, don’t be sorry. I wanted to meet you so badly that I tried to overcome what has crippled me for so many years. I wanted to thank you, just for being you. Just for existing.”

  “You have no idea how big my head is going to swell if you keep saying stuff like that to me.” I grinned despite the tears in my own eyes, which had begun to prickle with every word he’d said. “Can’t you say something insulting to me right now just so I can come back down to Earth?”

  He eyed me for a moment, apparently considering a reaction. “Okay. You have a gross obsession with seafood.”

  “That’ll do,” I chuckled, the sound thick with emotion. I don’t know why he made me so emotional.

  He nodded in agreement, and we both gazed at each other, both reading each other’s thoughts and recognising the expressions in our eyes.

  “Wanna know something about my past?” I asked, taking another bite from my now-tepid panini.

  “I’d love to,” he agreed curiously.

  “I was depressed once, too. When I was a teenager.” I licked some melted cheese from the corner of my mouth. “I got bullied, like you did, but it was because I looked like a boy. I hated PE class. The other gir
ls used to call me a lesbian and accused me of staring at them when they were getting changed, which is absurd because I’m not even that attracted to females. They made me feel that lesbians were something bad and they used the word as an insult towards me. It was only when I got older and actually met some lesbians that I understood the bullies were full of crap. One time, this nasty bitch, Marie, tripped me and I fell flat on my face. I was so angry that I got up and slapped her and we started fighting. She made my nose bleed, but in the end, I had the last laugh because I broke one of her teeth.”

  “That’s awful,” he whispered.

  “Yeah. I had a lot of fights at school.” I smiled amusedly. “Now I can look back at what happened and see the funny side, but at the time, it was tough because I didn’t even have the support of my parents. They acted like they thought I deserved it, like I was asking for it by insisting on having short hair and wearing boy clothes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have stopped it. It’s in the past, anyway, and Marie never did get that tooth fixed.” I smirked before nudging him with my elbow to get him to look at my face. “The thing is, we’ve both survived this far. We might think we’re weak, but we’re still breathing, still living. Every day is a victory.”

  “I wish I could see things that way,” he mumbled dejectedly before he broke off a piece of his sandwich and popped it into his mouth.

  “You will, because I’m gonna drill it into your brain,” I teased, giving his head a playful poke, which caused him to grin again at last. “Part of your training as my submissive will involve daily rituals of self-validation and confirming inner monologues.”

  “Well,” he spoke, seeming both shocked and entertained at the same time. “I guess this is just another aspect of how weird you are. I think all that tuna you’ve been eating has done something to you.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Mercury poisoning or something. Maybe I should lay off it for a while.” I held onto his arm as I gazed at the glistening of dew on the foliage that surrounded us.

  “I think the damage is done, to be honest.”

  “Shush, you.” I poked him again teasingly and he laughed.

  * * * *

  We walked arm and arm along the secluded paths, droplets falling from the trees and pattering on our shoulders as we paused to observe any particularly interesting monuments. Meanwhile, I held onto him, my heart glowing inside me. Glowing because he was letting me be close to him. Glowing because I was able to revel in the strength in his arm, enjoying his scent, listening to his lovely voice. I just enjoyed being with him, whatever it was we talked about. I had hoped we would get along well, spending the morning worrying that we wouldn’t have much to speak of or that we’d get irritable with each other, but instead, everything I had dreamed was coming true.

  Since we had finished our tea and sandwiches, it freed up my other hand to hold onto his arm, too; I didn’t let go of him the entire stroll. He seemed to enjoy having me hang on like a koala. At first he’d been awkward, but away from prying eyes amongst the spreading undergrowth of trees and bushes, hidden within the maze of many ancient graves, he let me be closer than before. I felt a bit shy about attempting to kiss him after what had happened in the kitchen, wondering if it would be too much for him while out in public. But there was no one around to see us here and I couldn’t push the desire out of my mind, even as we stopped to talk and read the information carved into the sides of the bases of each statue. When he paused to observe an enormous cross still wreathed in the dead vines that had been cut away from it, I knew it was my chance to strike.

  I snuggled close to him and captured him in my arms, which alarmed him because he straightened and looked at me, his glasses slipping down his nose.

  “I just wanted a hug.” I gazed at him and gave a mischievous smile.

  “Is that all?” I could tell he wasn’t playing. He seemed genuinely unaware of what I was up to and that struck me as unusual.

  “Well, David, what you’re suggesting is quite inappropriate, and in public, of all places,” I teased.

  His cheeks immediately turned an embarrassed shade of red. “I-I wasn’t…”

  “I know. Come here, don’t be shy. No one can see us,” I whispered, urging him to bend slightly so I wouldn’t have to stand on tiptoes to reach him.

  He looked on helplessly as I took his spectacles from his face, folded them, and put them in the pocket of his coat before taking his head in my hands and kissing him. I expected him either to try and escape me or to go overboard like he had before, but I was wrong. This time, he leaned into me. I didn’t have to prevent him from knocking me to the ground like an over-excited mastiff.

  I became innately aware of the quiet that surrounded us; it felt like we were miles away from civilisation, just the two of us alone. I slowed myself, setting the pace, showing him how to kiss me right, and encouraging him to put his hands on my waist instead of them hovering on either side of me like he was too afraid to touch me. I slipped my hands into the open hems of his coat, seeking out the warmth inside, my fingertips inching up the back of shirt in search of bare skin, which made him startle slightly as my hands were quite cool.

  My heart was beating fast, but not because of nervousness. I was excited. Very excited. If I didn’t restrain myself, I would have gone much further than just a kiss, but it was only because I knew how shy he was that I kept myself under control. There was the unpleasant bitterness of the mustard he had eaten on his lips, but I didn’t care at all. I had at least prepped myself with some chewing gum after eating tuna and cheese. That was the problem with new love; you couldn’t just kiss without making sure you didn’t kill them with your death breath.

  Aware that I was tainting the mood with my idiotic thoughts, I forced them away. I always did that in romantic situations. Maybe it was my way of dealing with the anxiety of the situation, by blocking it out with stupid thoughts about the thread coming off the stitching on my sock or contemplating what sound a badger would make if you rubbed its ear.

  “Stop,” David whispered against my mouth.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” I peered at him questioningly.

  He pressed his lips into a thin line and clasped his hands behind his back, a very ashamed expression appearing on his reddened face.

  I frowned. “What did I do?” Then I realised that something in the crotch of his trousers was pressing against me. I felt myself blush. “Oh, okay. David, you are such a barbarian! I could never introduce you to my family!”

  “I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he mumbled awkwardly as he zipped up his coat and hid half his face in the folds of the jacket’s high neck.

  “I’m just joking.” I laughed under my breath. “You’re gonna have to learn to detect when I’m messing around with you. Besides, you’re so cute, I can’t help myself.”

  “There’s no one watching us, is there?” He glanced around, just to be sure.

  “No, and even if there was, we didn’t do anything. We just kissed…right?” I grinned as I took him by the arm again and started to lead him along the path. It was funny because he shuffled beside me in obvious discomfort, still searching with his eyes for that lone person who might have been spying on us from the cover of the hedges.

  “You’re right,” he agreed after taking a moment to consider it. “I need to get used to doing things like this in public so I don’t embarrass myself anymore.”

  “Exactly. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty more opportunities.”

  We walked the entire route around the cemetery until we were back at the front gates, and by then, the air had dampened with the threat of more rain so we headed to my house.

  Later, we chatted and watched a movie with a bowl of popcorn, giving me fresh chances to show attention to him and help him acclimatise to my affections. The whole time, I kept fantasising about what it would be like if he lived here with me, which then lead to me punishing myself in my head, telling myself not to b
e so unrealistic and at so early a stage in our friendship.

  In the evening, after we’d had dinner, David told me it was time for him to go. At the front door, I watched him pull on his now-dry raincoat and we looked at the darkening street. It wasn’t raining at all now.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a lift home?” I offered as he zipped up his coat.

  “It’s okay, I can walk it.”

  “Alright. I’ll give you a call soon. Come here.” I grabbed him by the arm before he could step outside and pulled him towards me. He relinquished himself to me and I pressed him against the door frame, tilting back my head so I could meet his face. His cheeks immediately began to blush as I lifted myself on tiptoes so I could kiss him on the mouth.

  “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again,” I told him as I stroked his jaw, my fingertips seeking the soft hair at the back of his neck and causing him to shiver.

  “Me, too.” He smiled down at me. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

  I nodded and reached for another kiss. This one was slightly deeper, and when I felt his hand touch my side, a little flutter of excitement blew up inside of me.

  “Get home safely. I’ll call you soon,” I whispered as I slowly let go of him. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to.

  “Okay. Goodbye…Sir,” he replied as he stepped out of the cosy warmth of my home and into the cold, damp autumn air. I saw some semblance of a cheeky smirk on his face as he passed me and that excitement inside me was stoked further.

  “Goodbye.” I waved as he descended the steps towards the pavement. I stayed waiting at the door until he’d vanished from sight, and even then, I couldn’t help feeling that I wanted him to stay.

  Chapter 6

  I got home from work late, struggling through the front door with some plastic bags of shopping and rainwater soaking my hair to my forehead. This weather was beginning to get on my nerves. As I dumped the heavy bags in the hallway, I turned to swing the door shut and that’s when I noticed a red envelope dangling from the flap of the letter box. With a murmur of curiosity, I whipped it free and examined it. I didn’t recognise the handwriting, and when I looked on the back of the envelope at the return address, I didn’t recognise that either.