by Nicola Haken
“I don’t get it,” Rhys said.
“Day. Gaye,” Oliver explained, which really ruined the whole thing. Poor Marv. I thought his name was awesome, which is why I chose it.
“Ah. Cool.” Rhys nodded, but couldn’t have sounded less amused if he’d tried. “I think I’m still drunk. I’m goin’ to bed to think about everythin’ that’s wrong with my life. Later, girls.”
Hauling his weary body off the sofa, Rhys paused by the table where I sat as he made his way to the bedrooms, his gaze raking down my bare chest. “Nice sausage,” he said, winking.
Instinctively, I looked down to my zipper in a slight panic before I noticed his hand reaching out to pinch an actual leftover sausage from my plate. Then he walked away, leaving me annoyed with myself for not thinking of a fun comeback in time.
“Sorry,” Oliver muttered with an apologetic smile as he wandered over to the table and started clearing our empty plates.
“Don’t be,” I said, following him through to the sink, ready to help him clean the epic mess he’d created. “I’m highly experienced in the dickhead best friend department.” My voice was teasing as I bumped his shoulder with my own. Truthfully, I liked his friend. He was funny, flirty, camper than the fairy godmother at a Dolly Parton concert, and from the way he looked me up and down through narrowed eyes when we first met last night, I imagined he was also fiercely protective of Oliver.
The morning still played out perfectly despite the unexpected interruption. Working together in the kitchen, washing dishes, wiping counters, smacking his arse – which I was pleasantly surprised to discover was naked beneath that long vest…it all felt so normal. So everyday. Like we’d been doing this for years. Like I’d known him all my life. Like we were supposed to do this forever. It made no sense, yet it made perfect sense. We were so different, yet the same. When I looked into his eyes I saw a loneliness there that I’d so often seen in my own. It felt like he understood what it felt like to feel lost, to feel like a diamond in a sea of pebbles.
The difference is Oliver let his diamond shine. He polished it, made it sparkle, let the world see how special it was. His diamond was fucking stunning. Me? I rolled mine around in the dirt and disguised it as a pebble.
“You’re staring,” Oliver said, his back against the open door as I was about to leave.
Pressing my chest to his, I combed his hair behind his ear with my fingers. “You’re hard to look away from, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“Maybe you could stop by the salon again in your big truck,” he suggested, his voice flirtatious as he ran the tip of his finger down the buttons on my shirt.
I didn’t find out which trips I was on until the night before, but I was sure if I flashed June a nice smile she’d work me in a few Manchester runs.
“You wanna check out my gearstick, eh?”
Tipping his head back and laughing, he pushed me away from his chest. “Okay, you just totally ruined the moment.”
“What! I almost went for ‘do you want to slip your tacho into my card reader?’ but I didn’t think you’d know what that meant.”
“Enough with the driver puns! I won’t be slipping anything anywhere in your truck. Trucks are filthy,” he said with an exaggerated shudder.
“I keep my cab immaculate, thank you very much. I’ve won driver of the month seven times for it,” I told him with a smug nod.
Again, he chuckled. I don’t know why he found it so amusing. I was rather proud of my awards. I had all seven of the little plastic trophies standing in a row on the windowsill in my downstairs toilet.
“I’ll call you,” I said, and then I grazed his lips with mine, letting them linger, not moving, just…feeling. My heart ached from missing him already and the feeling was almost surprising. I’d never considered myself unhappy, or realised just how lonely I actually was until I started spending time with Oliver. I’d been content with my life, happy with the simple routine of work, weekends with Scott, and hanging out with Benny occasionally.
But Oliver brought spontaneity, stirred emotions deep in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years, if ever. He made the world seem more interesting, waking up each day more exciting. He taught me how magical stolen kisses over a sink full of greasy water was, how funny a pointless three AM phone conversation about kangaroos could be, and how much I’d missed falling to sleep next to the warmth of another person.
He’d shown me that there was more to life than being content, that life could be fucking amazing when you got to share it with another person, and he’d done it so quickly too. A little voice in the back of my head, a rational voice, the one that thought back to my previous relationships, warned me to slow down before I got hurt, before I fell so hard it would take me months to get back up.
But it was too late. I’d already jumped.
* * *
When I pulled up into the crammed car park behind Scott’s school on Tuesday night I envisaged the almighty scowl I’d receive from Lisa. I was late for parent conference, only ten minutes, but that’d be enough to earn me a Bad Dad badge.
Yep, there it is, I thought as I jogged over to greet her pissed-off face. She stood outside Reception, glowering at me and tapping her wrist as I got closer, which was stupid really because she didn’t even wear a watch. I’d have said as much, too, if she didn’t look like she wanted to singe the hair off my balls with a Bunsen burner. They had a chemistry lab in this building. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“You’re late,” she scolded in her ‘Mum’ voice.
“I had to go to the cash machine,” I explained, pulling out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans. Scott was going on a trip to Disneyland Paris with the school in November and, as with everything school-related, Lisa and I were paying half each. The balance wasn’t due yet, but we figured we might as well pay it tonight. “Here,” I added, handing her the money.
Still pouting, she took the bundle of twenties and tucked them into the zipped pocket in her handbag. “The others are inside already. Come on.”
Christ, I felt like I was the teenager as I followed her to the stairs after my telling off. I didn’t dare answer her back in case she grounded me or took away my phone.
Five appointments in and I was damn proud of my kid. He didn’t have A’s shooting from his arse in every subject but he had determination. Every teacher we’d seen so far had told us he was a great lad, a pleasure to teach. Enthusiastic, helpful, and always tried his best. There’s no greater feeling as a parent. When someone praises your child it’s hard not to feel a little smug. Inside my head I was like, Yeah. I made that. I did good, right?
Or maybe I was just a conceited arse.
What made me the proudest, the kind of proud that made my chest ache, swell with utter awe, was seeing him right now, goofing around with his mates inside the PE hall where tables with refreshments had been set up. Running, ducking, being a general dickhead with several other boys…
There was a time Lisa and I weren’t sure he’d even survive, let alone do any of these things. But he did. My lad was a fighter. Meningitis may have stolen three of his fingers and two of his toes when he was three years old, but he was still the top of his class in PE. He still played football and rugby and wrestled with his friends. He loved sports, and he was bloody good at them. He sure as shit didn’t get that from me. I faked so many sprained ankles in high school to avoid PE lessons I’m surprised my mother didn’t get me tested for rickets.
“‘Bastiaaan?” Rachel tugged on my jacket to get my attention, drawing my name out like she always did in that cute little voice of hers.
Bending, I scooped her up in my arms and hooked her onto my hip. “What is it, princess?”
“Josh put snot on me an’ he said he’s tellin’ Mum an’ Mam that I put snot on him but I dint he put snot on me I dint put snot on him he’s lyin’,” she rushed out without pausing for breath.
“You know what you should do?”
She shook her head.
>
“You should put snot on him. Get a really big bogie and stick it on his hair.” It was the right thing to do. Kids are never too young to learn the valuable art of payback. Plus, no childhood is complete without a few decent rounds of Bogie Wars.
“Yeah!” she agreed, bunching her tiny hands into fists.
“Wait till you get home though,” I said, carrying her over to where Lisa stood with Josh. I didn’t know where Jenny was. “You don’t play with bogies at school,” I added on a whisper. Total bullshit, of course. I just wanted to be far away when Lisa and Jenny found out I’d encouraged their kids to fight with snot.
“How many more teachers do we…” My words dissolved, my breath catching in my suddenly arid throat when, amongst the crowd of parents and teenagers, my gaze locked onto a familiar pair of eyes across the large hall.
Oliver.
He looked as confused as I felt, and definitely as curious. Only when Scott called, “Dad! Mum! We need to get to geography!” and Oliver watched as Lisa gave him a thumbs-up while taking Rachel from my arms, did his expression melt into…disappointment.
Shit.
I knew what it looked like. We looked like a perfect, happy family, and that would be because we were. Just not the kind Oliver was thinking. I wanted to run to him, explain, take away the hurt on his face, but I couldn’t because I was here for my son and he came first, always.
Why’s he even here? I asked myself as I forced my gaze away from him, following Lisa and Scott out of the hall. He wasn’t old enough to have a high school kid of his own. Maybe he worked here? Maybe he was screwing one of the other dads.
No. Ugh. For fuck’s sake.
Now I was just frustrated. I should’ve been honest from the start.
I pulled out my phone on the way to Scott’s next classroom, brought up the text thread between Oliver and me, and typed out the first thing that came into my head.
Me: Wait for me in the car park. I can explain.
It sounded pathetic, exactly what a cheater would say, and I groaned to myself as I tucked the phone back into my pocket. I’d switched the sound to silent when I arrived, but I waited anxiously, tapping my foot against the floor, for a vibration to occur…but it never came.
“Mummy, I’m boooored,” Rachel whined, stomping her feet.
Lisa bent down to deal with her, and Jenny was busy trying to get Josh to put his shoes back on, so I seized an opportunity and took Scott to one side.
“Do you know any kids with the surname Clayton?” I asked him, forcing casualness into my voice.
“Uh, yeah. There’s a Tyler Clayton. Don’t really know him that well but he’s just been moved into my drama class. Why?”
“No reason. Think I know his dad, that’s all,” was the best excuse I could come up with.
“Don’t think he’s got a dad. He hangs around with Kyle Patrick and his gang of moron friends and I’ve heard ‘em making fun of him for living with his brother.”
Confused, I asked, “Why would they make fun of him for that?”
“‘Cause he’s gay, apparently. Like I said, they’re morons.”
I opened my mouth to reply but then closed it again when I realised I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Seb, Scott,” Lisa called, cocking her head towards the teacher that had appeared at the classroom doorway.
Taking a deep breath, I fixed a smile in place and pushed thoughts of Oliver, the brother he may or may not have had aside, and switched to Dad mode.
“Come on, buddy,” I said to Scott. “Let’s see how impressive you are at geography.”
It took forty minutes to get through the rest of the appointments, and as we made our way to each class I kept an eye out for Oliver’s face but never saw him again. He wasn’t in the car park either, and he hadn’t replied to my text message.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lisa asked after buckling the twins into the back of her car while we waited for Scott and Jenny to return from handing in the Disneyland money to his form teacher. “You’ve been acting strange since we left the PE hall.”
“It’s Oliver. The guy I’m seeing. I saw him in the hall. Or rather, he saw me, with you and Scott, and the twins.”
“And?”
“And I haven’t told him about Scott yet.”
“So, what? Now he’s being pissy with you because you have a son? You shouldn’t stand for that.”
“No, no. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.”
“Ah, so you’re overthinking things again.”
“No,” I spat like a sulking child. “I text him and he hasn’t replied.”
“How old are you? Twelve? He’s probably busy with teachers. Does he have a child at the school too?”
“A brother, according to Scott.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been seeking advice on your love life from a fifteen-year-old?”
“I didn’t tell him who he was. I just…shh, they’re coming,” I said, nodding towards Scott and Jenny padding over the gravelled path.
“Call him and talk it out,” Lisa said, keeping her voice low as she opened the driver door. “If I find out you’ve taken the easy option and gone home to whine to that stupid cat I’ll be very disappointed in you.” And she would find out. I swear, Lisa knew everything. I often wondered if she worked for some kind of secret lesbionage agency.
“Hey, Marv’s not stupid.” Well, he was, but only I had the right to call him that.
When Scott and Jenny reached the car we all said our goodbyes, I told Scott I was proud of him, and then somehow ended up agreeing to buy him a new game for his Xbox as a reward. Then, I skulked back to my car with my head down and climbed inside, drumming my fingers against the wheel while I pondered what the hell to do.
Pulling out my phone, I checked my screen for what must’ve been the fifteenth time, even though I knew it would be blank because I’d have felt a message arrive. Unlocking it, I opened up the text thread, hovering my finger over the keyboard before deciding this couldn’t be resolved through typing.
Pressing the phone to my ear, I almost put it straight back down again when I heard the first ring. But then he answered. “Hey.”
“Oh,” I said, unexpectedly surprised. Deep down, I’d prepared myself for his voicemail. “Hey, it’s me.”
“I know.”
Right. Crap, this was awkward. My pulse raced and my mouth dried, making my lips stick to my teeth. “Where are you? Can we talk?”
“I’m just leaving the school. It’s not a good time. I’ve got to drop my brother off at his friend’s.”
“After, then. I’ll text you my address. Please, Oliver. I need to see you.”
A gentle sigh seeped into my ear. “Okay,” was all he said.
I sent him my address as soon as we hung up, adding please don’t change your mind to the end of it. It sounded a little desperate, but I was desperate. This man was special to me, even if I didn’t really know why. I’d never believed in fate or soulmates or any of that crap, but I couldn’t deny there’d been a connection that I couldn’t explain between Oliver and me since the first time our eyes met. I felt drawn to him. There was almost a physical pull that tugged deep in my chest when I thought of him that I’d never experienced with anyone else.
Was that what finding a soulmate felt like? Was that what people called love at first sight? I didn’t know, but whatever it was, I knew it was something worth fighting for.
When I got home, I tossed my keys into the glass bowl on the cabinet in the hall before heading straight upstairs to take a shower. I’d hoped cleansing my body would also cleanse my mind somehow, but after changing into some jogging bottoms and a T-shirt and returning downstairs, my head was just as much of a jumbled mess as it was before.
Restless, I paced up and down the lounge a few times, fluffed the cushions on the sofa, and then paced a little more. I sat down for a minute, checked my phone, then I stood up and straightened out a kink in the cream curtain.
; Sighing, I set about pacing again when I heard a clatter coming from the kitchen. Rushing towards the noise, I crossed paths with Marv in the hall as he darted through my legs and jumped onto the stairs.
“Fuck’s sake, Marv!” I blasted when I stepped into the kitchen and saw the best part of a full box of cornflakes scattered across the tiled floor. The stupid sod must’ve knocked them off the counter chasing his tail again. It was my own fault, really. I should’ve started putting them in the cupboard after the seventy ninth time.
Groaning, I made my way to the cupboard under the sink, cornflakes crunching under my socks, and pulled out the dustpan and brush. Marv reappeared as I was sweeping the last few flakes into the pan, looking down on me from the countertop. The smug bastard sat there like a king, watching his servant clean up his mess through narrowed eyes.
This cat didn’t appreciate how good he had it. I bought him the posh food with the vegetables in it and the expensive litter that was soft under his paws. He even had a blingy collar so the other cats in the neighbourhood would think he was cool, and a fancy cat flap that recognised his microchip and only opened for him.
“If you’re not careful I’ll start buying the cheap food Mrs Wilson gets for Tiddles from the market,” I told him, getting up off my hands and knees. I was lying of course, and the spoiled little shit knew it. For all the moaning I did, I loved the guy, and I’d pampered my ginger ninja since the moment I found him in a box outside work four years ago.
My boss wanted to call the RSPCA, but I’d just split up with Anna and thought the tiny bundle of orange fluff would keep me company. So I took him home and got my local vet to check him over the next day instead. The rest, as they say, is history.
I was tying a knot in one of the small green bags the council gave us for food waste when my doorbell chimed. Dropping the bag on the counter, I looked to Marv as if he’d know what I should do. He didn’t, obviously. I was alone on this one. It rang again, and then I remembered that the usual response would be to go and answer it. So, with my heart trying to claw its way into my throat, I did.
