Unforgotten (Forgiven)

by Garrett Leigh

  * * *

  He didn’t throw up. He swallowed the pills I gave him and drank the tea, and when he was sufficiently buzzed, seemed to remember he hadn’t eaten since the mini doughnuts I’d forced on him that morning. How does he even live? I’d put away at least six sandwiches since then. “What do you want?” I asked, trying to ignore how much I was enjoying seeing him stretched out on my bed. “I can order something?”

  Billy shook his head, eyes hooded and heavy. “No. I don’t want you spending money on me, and I don’t have any. There must be something in the cupboards. I just remembered I bought other stuff that’s not in the fridge.”

  “What did you buy?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  “Okay...do you remember where you put it?”

  “Nope.”

  Truth be told, he could’ve bought a hundred different things and stashed them in my kitchen cupboards before I noticed. It wasn’t like I ever looked.

  Curious, I rolled off the bed and sloped downstairs. The fridge was as bare as I’d left it, but a scout of the corner cabinet revealed a squirrel store of baked beans, Super Noodles, and tins of tuna. I couldn’t imagine how they’d taste together, and we had no bread for toast, so I plumped for the noodles and managed to cook them in the microwave without burning the house down.

  I made more tea and took it upstairs with the noodles.

  Billy was drowsing, eyes barely open. I wondered if I should leave him alone, but he heard me coming and pushed himself up on his good arm, face brightening as he caught sight of the steaming bowl I’d balanced on my upturned wrist. “Noodles? Fuck, I really did forget about those.”

  His enthusiasm caught me off guard. Feeding him was usually a depressing exercise in him nibbling a tiny portion of whatever I was eating, and me wolfing his leftovers like a carb-addicted vulture. I’d never seen him look at anything the way he was looking at the noodles.

  I passed them over and retrieved the fork I’d tucked in my back pocket. “They smell like stock cubes.”

  “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  I couldn’t think of a sensible answer, so I settled in to watch Billy hoover up the yellowish, gloopy noodles like a child with a bag of sweets. It was endearing, and...hot, though I couldn’t say why. All I knew was my gaze zeroed in on his fingers as he sucked them clean, and then his tongue as I caught the barest glimpse of it, darting out between his full lips.

  Billy had the best lips. If I closed my eyes, I could still recall how they’d felt crushed against mine all those years ago, but I was trying to quit that. No good ever came of it, save a grand old time with my right hand.

  Yeah, that’s right. I wasn’t above jacking off over my vulnerable houseguest.

  Not that Billy would ever confess to being vulnerable, but that’s what he was. Pale, underweight for his strong frame, and crippled by chronic pain. And that was only what I knew about. Lord knew what he’d been through the last ten years. But maybe I did. If he’d grieved for his dad like I had my mother, and missed his brother like I had my sister, times had been tough.

  “Are you falling asleep on me?”

  I blinked. For the first time ever, Billy was waving an empty bowl at me. I took it and set in on the bedside table. “Asleep? Me? Never.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” he said. “Apart from that one night you dropped my bed cover on me, you’re always awake, if you’re here, I mean. I don’t know what you do when you’re not.”

  Nothing, since Billy moved in, save a few aborted Grindr trips up the A road, but I wasn’t going to get into that with him. He didn’t need to know that he occupied my thoughts so entirely I’d forgotten how to get excited by any other man. Then he really would have cause to call me a creep. “I don’t sleep a lot,” I confessed. “I got out of the habit when my mum was ill, and I never really got it back.”

  Billy nodded. “I get that. I remember the long nights with my dad. Being so scared I’d doze off and he’d die when I was asleep.”

  “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “Drinking helps,” he said. “With a lot of things. But in the end, even that stops working.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “In what sense?”

  I passed Billy a mug of tea, claimed my own, and shifted further onto the bed, closing the distance between us another inch with little conscious thought. “I know you got into drugs after Luke left. Not on purpose, but everyone knew.”

  Billy rolled his eyes. “No, everyone said they knew. That’s not the same as anyone knowing jackshit about me. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  If I believed everything I’d heard about Billy, there was no way I’d have ever let him set foot in my house. The Rushmere rumour mill had him painted as everything from a burglar to a violent crackhead, and, as I’d learned from Barry Keane, a scumbag who’d done hard prison time. I knew that wasn’t true, so who was the real Billy? And why did my chest burn at the prospect of finding out?

  So many questions. No tangible answers.

  I sighed. “I didn’t mean it was true. I guess I was asking what you did to cope if getting drunk stopped working.”

  “How do you know I didn’t do what you did?”

  “What did I do?”

  Billy said nothing. Just stared at me with drug-fogged eyes that were somehow razor sharp too.

  Or maybe it was my imagination. I often saw things that weren’t there when someone tried to flay me open. Warmth that wasn’t real. Attraction that didn’t last. “I didn’t get drunk,” I said when Billy’s silence dragged on. “I got laid. A lot. And I carried on long after it stopped working, so maybe we did do the same thing, just in different ways.”

  Billy shifted slightly, a wince threatening his hazy expression. “We’re not the same people, though. You still managed to be a functioning adult, so maybe I should’ve joined the Grindr train instead of banging coke round the back of the Sugar Loaf.”

  “That place closed down years ago,” I said absently as I fought a wave of horror at the thought of Billy on Grindr. Of him in anyone’s bed but mine. Idiot. “And do you even want to be a functioning adult? A nine-to-five job with a mortgage and two-point-four kids?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t think anything. I don’t know you.”

  Billy’s gaze flickered. “And yet here I am off my nut on trammies in your bed. Strange how life works out.”

  It really was. Billy got up and drifted to the bathroom. It crossed my mind that he wouldn’t come back, but I tidied the mugs and his bowl away all the same, and shifted over so he had more room. Wishful thinking? I had no idea, and I was out of spoons to think about it. My brain was noisy at the best of times, but some days with Billy, it quieted to a dull roar. Angsting over whether he’d come back to my bed wasn’t exactly peaceful, but it beat being alone. Like, really alone, with nothing for company but silence and shadows.

  “You have the strangest face.”

  I glanced up as Billy came back to the bed. “Uh, thanks? I guess? Unless it’s giving you nightmares.”

  “As if. No. I meant that you have this chilled-out smile that doesn’t match the rest of it.”

  “I’m not going to ask what that means. How’s the shoulder?”

  “It’s there.”

  “And the pain?”

  “Same.”

  “Same answer? Or it hurts as much as it did before?”

  “The first one.” Billy shivered. “And it’s cold out there. Or maybe it’s that muscle relaxant shit you gave me. I’ve never taken them before. How do you say it? Amo-trippo-what?”

  “Amitriptyline.” I jumped up as Billy swayed. “I gave you a half dose, but it can be pretty poky if you’re not used to it.”

  Billy shivered again. Without thinking, I rubbed my hand up and down his good arm, massaging war
mth into his cool skin. “Come on. Get comfy. We can watch something, if you like?”

  “Watch what?”

  “Uh...” I searched my limited knowledge of Netflix for something he might enjoy. “Vikings? Hot dudes, powerful women, fighting and fucking. Culture. Something for everyone. Ever seen it?”

  “I don’t watch TV. Haven’t had one for years.”

  I was still rubbing his arm. I forced myself to stop and moved back so he could get on the bed. Movement caused the duvet to bunch up by my knees. I let it be, and when Billy was settled, cautiously pulled it up and over him.

  He eyed me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “You don’t have to tuck me in.”

  “I don’t want you to be cold.”

  “That’s sweet, man. But at least get in the bed with me so we haven’t got some weirdo taxi situation going on.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like, if you give your mate a ride and they get in the back so you look like a taxi.”

  He wasn’t making much sense, but if he wanted me in the bed with him, I wasn’t about to argue.

  I slid under the duvet and cued up Vikings on the TV. My bed had a memory foam mattress that sucked in anything of any weight and held tight all night long. I was hoping it would do Billy some good—if he stayed all night—but when I looked at him, despite the loopiness softening his features, he was shifting around, his discomfort clear. “Can you lie on your side?” I asked. “Your good side, I mean.”

  “Dunno.” Billy manoeuvred himself so he was facing me. “Yeah. Guess I can.”

  I wanted to mirror his pose. To roll over and scrutinise every inch of him in case I never got this close to him again. Logic told me we were this close every day in the van, or huddled on rooftops laying felt, but this was different. I could hear his slow breaths, smell his wood-smoke scent, and if I closed my eyes, it was easy to imagine the thumping in my ears was his heartbeat, not mine.

  Billy shivered again. I pressed play on the TV and lifted my arm. “Come closer. It’s a waste of time if you’re cold anyway.”

  “Dude, if I get any closer, I’ll be lying on top of you.”

  “So?”

  The word was out of my mouth before I could catch it. Every nerve in my body cringed, but I forced myself to keep my eyes on the TV screen. Norse gods lit up the darkened room. Longboats and swords. Ragnar and his warrior wife.

  Billy moved, and his legs brushed mine, then his hip. His chest hit my ribs. Warmth flowed between us. I settled my arm around him, keeping clear of his painful shoulder. For a long moment, Billy was as tense as his dose of amitriptyline would allow, then the rigidity seemed to drain from him, and he dropped his head on my chest like he’d done it a thousand times. “I can’t decide if the dude or the woman is hotter.”

  I smiled in the darkness. “Isn’t that the point of being bi? That you don’t have to?”

  “Hmm. I suppose.”

  His slow breaths evened out. He was fading. If we’d been different people who’d lived different lives to get to this point, I might’ve rubbed his back, or tangled my fingers in his soft hair. But we were the same people we’d always been, so I settled into a gentle wave of regret, and watched him fall asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Billy

  “You need to register with a GP.”

  Gus stood in his kitchen, a basket of clean washing tucked under one arm, pointing at me with the other. Fuck me. I’d gone to sleep next to a strapping giant of walking sex, and woken up to the mother I’d never quite had.

  Or maybe I was still asleep and dreaming. It would’ve made more sense than the fuzzy memory of passing out in Gus’s bed. Or waking up wrapped around him like a limpet with zero regrets.

  Zero regrets. Liar. I had a hundred regrets, not because I’d slept in Gus’s bed, with Gus, but because I couldn’t think of a single reason I’d ever get to do it again, and wasn’t that a fun realisation on a Monday morning?

  Not. And I didn’t like waiting rooms. They got on my tits and awoke the fidgety beast I tried to keep in check when I was around Gus.

  But he got his way, and an hour later, the lingering effect of his good drugs helped. His closeness even more, but the waiting room, man. I felt like a fucking toddler. Only Gus’s warm hand on my thigh kept me still.

  I was still losing what little was left of my mind, though. Jesus. What was he trying to do to me? Kill me with kindness? Cos that’s all it was, right? Gus being the nicest guy in the world? There was no other logical explanation for the last twenty-four hours, least of all the one my brain was playing on a loop. The one where he turned to me in the crowded waiting room and kissed me for the second time in half a decade.

  Gus’s phone rang. He silenced it without answering, but not fast enough that I didn’t see my brother’s name flash up on the screen.

  “He’s checking up on us.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Gus nodded anyway. “Probably. He stopped answering my daily updates, so I stopped sending them.”

  “Updates on me?”

  “On the job. Believe it or not, Luke is still Luke when you’re not here.”

  I believed it. And I was stupidly relieved that Gus hadn’t sent Luke a blow-by-blow of last night. I wasn’t in the mood for my brother’s silent scrutiny. His judgement. Or the scratchy emotions that lurked behind his dead-eyed stare.

  Gus’s phone buzzed and vibrated like an angry wasp. I sucked in a shuddery breath. “He’s not going to go away.”

  “You wouldn’t want him to.”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  “No.” Gus reclaimed his hand and answered the phone. “Morning, boss.”

  Unlike the rest of the population, who shouted down phones as if Apple hadn’t spent a billion quid on microphone technology, Luke spoke too quietly for me to hear his response.

  Gus rolled his eyes. “That’s because it’s finished. It got done on Friday.”

  More silence.

  More eye rolling. “I’m at an appointment. Then we’ve got an OAP patch to do this afternoon... I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”

  For a horrific moment, I thought Gus would pass the phone to me, but he didn’t. He chuckled, rolled his eyes a third time, then hung up and pocketed his phone.

  “You lied,” I said absently, tracking a snotty-nosed set of twins as they emerged from the doctor’s office.

  “Did I?”

  “Yeah. You don’t have an appointment.”

  “I said I was at an appointment, not that it was mine.”

  “I don’t have an appointment either.”

  “Not yet.”

  He was so fucking reasonable I wanted to punch him. Kind of. I wanted to do other things to him too, but most of all, I wanted to lean on him and absorb his warmth. To feel his heavy arm draped around me again so I could sleep off the rest of my pill buzz.

  As if he’d heard my errant thoughts, Gus leant closer. His dark eyes flickered like glowing embers, and—

  The receptionist called my name.

  In slow motion, I swung my gaze to her, breaking my connection with Gus. A growl built in my chest, but he nudged me before my natural malevolence burst free.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this done.”

  I’d almost forgotten why we were there. Gus helped me to my feet and steered me to the reception desk. He filled out forms for me and pointed at places I needed to sign. Somehow I still possessed my battered driving licence. The receptionist photocopied it and reminded me I’d need to return within the month with proof I was living at Gus’s address.

  A month. Shit. I’d had plans to be gone two weeks ago, and yet I was still here, surgically attached to Gus’s side as he parented me through the simple fucking process of registering for medical care.

  “He needs an appointment,” Gus said
when the paperwork was done. “Is the sit and wait clinic running today?”

  “Until half eleven. Take a seat.”

  Gus towed me back to the hard plastic chairs we’d left behind.

  “We don’t have to do this today,” I protested. “I can come back.”

  “Or you could stay and get it sorted now.”

  “Sorted?” I laughed without humour. “Don’t you think if there was a magic pill I’d have swallowed it by now?”

  “I didn’t mean sorted in the literal sense. I know what it’s like to recover from surgery, dude. I know it takes time.”

  Of course he did. He had a drawer full of meds leftover from knee surgery. Shamefully, I’d forgotten that too. Self-absorbed prick. “What happened to your knee?”

  Gus sat down and gestured for me to do the same. “Slid down a ladder too fast. Landed bad. It was only cartilage damage, though. I can’t imagine what it was like to break the bones.”

  Unbidden, memories of waking up to rods protruding from my shattered shoulder flashed through my mind. I couldn’t recall much with any clarity, but fuck, I remembered the pain. “It’s a weird thing,” I said slowly. “To realise your bones are fragile things, not something invisible that you take for granted.”

  Gus nodded. “Like lots of stuff, I’d imagine. Can I ask you something?”

  “Not if you’re about to compare my shitty bone-breaking analogy to my relationship with my brother.”

  “I’m not.”

  I nodded for him to continue. He folded his arms across his chest, dashing my hopes that he might touch me again. “What happened to your knuckles? I feel like I’m missing something really obvious.”

  “Oh.” I sat back in my chair. “I already told you it’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why, so I reckon it’s probably not.”

  “Fucking psychic, are you?”

  “Do I need to be to understand you?”

  “Why do you want to understand me?”

  Gus rolled his eyes. Just like he’d done at my reticent, closed-book motherfucker of a brother, and something inside me gave way. A wall I’d perhaps not known was there. I wasn’t like Luke. I couldn’t be, or we were all fucked.