by Brandon Witt
I stopped, thinking he would get the reference, but he had a blank expression on his face. “The what turned blue?”
“The stick, man. Jeez. What planet do you live on? She took a pregnancy test and it was positive. She was pregnant again. Dad had knocked her up before he went crazy.”
“Oh!” Patrick’s exclamation was one of understanding. He nodded and then the information sunk in and his mouth fell open. “Ooohh!”
I chuckled, even though it wasn’t funny at all. “So there Mum was, with three kids on her own. It was rough but she was trying. I was the oldest and I tried to help her out a lot. She got a job up the local shops and money was tight, but we were coping. I’d get the girls ready in the morning and walk them to day care and then to school when they were old enough. I learned how to make a sandwich and we could at least eat after school until Mum got home. But I guess Mum just got tired or something. She lost her job and started drinking. Then next thing I know, she’s telling me she’s gonna have another kid. I was nine.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah—plenty of that,” I joked. “I learned how to change a nappy pretty damn quick. I was only nine but I still remember some of the shit that went flying around—both literally and figuratively. Some bruiser turned up to the house one night when Maria was just a couple of months old. I remember coz Mum hauled me out of bed and I took the three girls up the back and we hid in the shed in the dark for ages while this guy ranted and smashed furniture in the house. Lizzy was always scared of the dark and spiders, but she stayed put. She had to have a night-light on in her room for the next couple of months afterwards.” I took another mouthful of coffee and reflected on that period of my life. “I pieced together the story years later when I was older and could understand. Some of the things the guy yelled before the cops dragged him away…. Well, it turned out sweet mama couldn’t name Maria’s father. In order for Mum to receive the parenting payment from the government for Maria, she had to nominate guys who might be the father and the government tracked these guys down and forced them to do a DNA test. This guy was named and he wasn’t happy about it.”
Patrick grimaced. “Father-of-the-Year material, obviously.”
I snorted. “It turned out he wasn’t the dad. This other guy called Damon is the unhappy recipient of that title. He’s not a bad sort. Got three other kids all older than me. He pays his money on time and sends presents.”
I stopped suddenly and blushed. Patrick must think you’re a total douche. He asked about your father not your whole fuckin’ life!
“Sorry,” I said. “Rambling on like that. You didn’t need to hear all that crap.”
Patrick reached out for me and squeezed my forearm. “Nothing to apologize for. I asked and I wanted to know.”
“Still, I didn’t need to dump my entire life on you.”
He smiled gently. “So with all those different genes mixed in, who did you end up looking like the most?”
I cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “What does it matter to you? You can’t see.”
An expression that could’ve been hurt momentarily clouded his face. “Just because I can’t see, it doesn’t mean I don’t like to know what people I speak to regularly look like. I have an image in my head of you and I’m politely trying to gather more information.”
If I’d been able to, I’d have kicked myself for being such an arse wipe. “Sorry, man. That was rude. So was the question what do I look like? An average, regular man, actually. I’m white, with short, sandy-brown hair and brown eyes. I guess you could say I’m fit and I have a tan since I’m always out riding on my bike. And I thankfully don’t freckle. I’ve got me a decent snoz on my face, which I hate, but you can’t change that, can you? Other than that, there’s nothing special about me.”
Patrick reached out and carefully ran his fingers down my cheek. I blinked in consternation at the unexpected touch. “Nothing special? There’s one thing you forgot, Jake Manning.”
“What’s that?”
“Your smile. You’re always smiling, I can tell from the way you speak. There’s a warmth that radiates outward from it. Now tell me, am I wrong?”
I blushed, disconcerted to be caught out. “You’re not wrong. I guess it’s true. I do get a lot of compliments about my smile, so it must be a nice one.”
“I’m sure it is, but I believe it’s probably to do more with the man behind the smile that people are complimenting you on. And they’re right.”
My eyes widened. Coming from another person I would think it was a sexual advance, but Patrick wouldn’t do something like that. He was straight.
We chatted a while before I realized it was nearly lunchtime. At Patrick’s insistence, we sat together and ate sandwiches and fruit. After lunch he played out in the back with Gregor (after I carefully cleaned the back lawn of doggie poos) before retreating to his study again to type at his computer. I could hear the machine talking back to him from time-to-time.
Finally, I had to leave. I knocked gently on the open door. “Patrick?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going now.”
“Oh.” His hand went to his wrist where he was wearing a nifty braille watch. “I didn’t realize the time.”
“No problem. I just wanted to check to make sure there was nothing I could do for you before I left?”
“No, nothing. Unless….” He trailed off.
“Unless, what?”
He seemed to hesitate before saying, “Unless you want to stay for dinner? I have some steaks I can cook.”
Warmth spread throughout my chest. How I wished he was gay and he was asking me for dinner for a reason other than platonic friendship. The last two days had proved to me that he wasn’t such a dickhead after all. His notes to his employees needed work and he needed some manners, but he was basically a good guy. Even if he wasn’t gay, I was happy to be his friend. But unfortunately, something came above friendship.
Family.
“I’d love to, man, but I can’t. I have to go and visit my mum and my sister today.”
He frowned slightly. “I thought you visited yesterday?”
“That was Ellie and Skylah. Today’s Thursday, and I have to check up on Maria. Her exams are next week, and I want to make sure the house is in order and she has enough food and all. Sometimes Mum doesn’t always have the money to stock the fridge.”
Patrick smiled at me gently. “You’re such a good big brother, aren’t you? You take care of them all.”
I sighed sadly. “I have to. There’s no one else.”
FRIDAY MORNING I found Patrick’s house empty and was curiously disappointed. My stomach felt hollow and strange. I’d received my pay yesterday and had bought enough food for a good breakfast, so the feeling wasn’t hunger. I rushed through the house to the laundry and snatched up the note he’d left.
Dear Mrs. Huntley, Jake,
• THANK YOU for helping me while I was sick.
• SORRY you had to do that.
• PLEASE feel free to have a coffee or sandwich from the fridge.
• I dropped the sugar jar in the kitchen last night. Check the floor for glass.
• I’ll be home at 5pm. Do you want to stay for dinner?
Sincerely,
P. Stanford (aka Patrick).
I dropped my face into my palm. The man obviously didn’t get manners. I would have to work on it.
Dear Patrick,
• Are we still writing in bullet point?
• Your manners are improving but we still need some tweaking. Consider this revision, “Can you please check carefully for glass shards?” Commit it to memory and it can be your homework for the weekend.
• I’d love to stay, but I have to work at 6pm on my second job. Another night?
• Have a safe weekend and please ring me if you need help. I will see you on Monday. Actually, I won’t, but you know what I mean.
Cheers,
Jake.
THE TAV was hot that night—e
xtremely busy and humid inside. I was tending bar when Luke appeared in front of the crowd looking for a beer.
“Hey, man!” I shouted over the music, happy to see him. “Where have you been?”
He smiled back at me and leaned over the bar so I could hear him. “I’ve been saving my money. You were right, you know? I have a girl I have my eye on, but I can’t ask her out unless I have money to treat her to a nice date.”
I held my hand up and we slapped palms in high five. “Do you want a beer? My shout?”
I handed him over a freebie, and he nodded his thanks and disappeared back into the crowd. I managed to catch his eye an hour later and signaled to him over the top of the crowd that I was taking my break out the back. He waved and signaled back, saying he’d be there in a minute.
I was leaning against the railing when he arrived. “Hey, Jake.”
“Hey, Luke. I was getting worried about you. Haven’t seen you in weeks. I thought maybe I’d scared you off or something. Charlie would be on my arse if I scare the customers away.”
He found himself a clean spot to lean on the railing and smiled my way. “Nah. Just took a bit of a long look at my life.”
“Yeah? Find anything?”
He hesitated before admitting, “Well, you see there’s this girl….”
“Ah ha! I was getting a bit nervous about you there, man. You were hanging out with me way too much. I thought I’d turned you to the dark side or something.”
He blushed in the dim streetlight. “Nothing like that. I’ve liked this girl for a while. Since high school actually.”
“Ooh. So I know her, do I? Who is she? That Casey Denham chick with the blonde hair?”
He looked at me, horrified. “What? No way! I saw her about a year ago. She may’ve been the most popular girl in our class, but she needs a good session on Australia’s Biggest Loser or something. Wow, she’s piled on the kilos.”
I laughed, enjoying the image of the bitchiest bitch at school looking like a stuffed pig. “So who are you crushing on, then?”
He smiled a secretive little smile and gazed out over the car park. “Not telling. I don’t wanna jinx it or anything. Hell, I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend. She’s on one of my daily runs with the courier truck. I’ll ask her out this week. See how it goes.” God, the man was bright red. This girl had hooked him bad.
“Good luck, then.”
“Thanks.” We breathed in the cooler night air for a while before he asked, “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “I’ve been too busy to worry about things like that.”
“How about a crush, then? What sort of man does it for you? Sav on the door?”
I chuckled. Sav was our regular bouncer, and as far as I could tell, he did three things in life: lifted weights, breathed air, and knocked heads together. The man was built like Arnie but had the sense of humor of a politician facing a crowd of angry constituents. “Fuck, no. And don’t even mention it to him. The guy will chop off my nuts if I even glance his way. Eh!” I shivered at the thought. “No way. The guy I like…. For a start he’s straight, so bad luck to me. But he is sexy as sexy. Think of Brad Pitt in the early movies. Skinny, blond, toned. He needs a bit of an attitude adjustment, but I don’t care much about that. It’s not like I can keep my mouth shut, either. Besides, if he was my man I could find a whole bunch of things for him to do with his mouth that don’t require talking, if you know what I mean.”
Luke roared with laughter, nearly falling off his perch. “Fuck, man. That’s what I hate about you gay guys! You can get away with so much shit. Now just imagine if I said that about my woman? Fuck! I’d have them all yelling and cursing a blue streak at me!”
I laughed along with him. It was nice to have my friend back.
I HALF wondered if I would find evidence of Patrick’s sex life once again on Monday morning, but the house was its normal neatness, albeit with two days’ worth of dishes and washing to do. I still had the blue silicone butt plug hidden away in the laundry cupboard where Patrick wouldn’t think to look for it. So far he hadn’t said anything about it, and I wondered if he had even missed it.
Dear Jake,
• I like bullet points. Don’t you?
• What day suits you for dinner?
• Can you please take my suits down to the dry cleaner today? I know you don’t usually go until tomorrow, but I need the gray suit on Wednesday. Have them get it ready for pickup tomorrow.
• I’ve left a shopping list so that you can pick up some things today, and the rest tomorrow on your usual trip.
• Did you have a coffee?
Sincerely,
Patrick.
Dear Patrick,
• Monday and Tuesday are good for dinner. Next Tuesday, then? Do you want me to cook?
• Yes, I had a coffee.
Cheers,
Jake.
Dear Jake,
• Next Tuesday is good for dinner.
• Don’t forget the dry cleaning pick up.
Sincerely,
Patrick.
(And handwritten in nearly illegible print on the side was the word “please,” underlined three times.)
Dear Patrick,
• Your gray suit is hanging in the wardrobe. How do you know it’s gray?
• Next Tuesday for dinner then. Shall I cook?
Cheers,
Jake.
Dear Jake,
• I know it’s gray because it says so on the braille label.
• Yes, you can cook. Pick up whatever ingredients you need when you shop next. Please.
Sincerely,
Patrick.
Dear Patrick,
• Why did you need your gray suit? Did you have a date? How did it go?
• Your gardening guy didn’t show up today. Was he meant to?
Cheers,
Jake.
Dear Jake,
• Can you please post these letters for me?
• It wasn’t a date. I don’t do those. It was a business meeting.
• Thank you for telling me about the gardener.
Sincerely,
Patrick.
Dear Patrick,
• I’ll post the letters on my way home. I ride past a post box.
Cheers,
Jake.
Dear Jake,
• Why don’t you have a car?
Patrick.
Dear Patrick,
• Because I sold it when I needed money. Why don’t you have a car? What’s your excuse?
Jake.
IT WAS silly, but I found myself missing Patrick at odd times over the weekend. It wasn’t like I even saw him, but I lived surrounded by him during the week. I was in his house, touching his things, looking after him. I realized I was… territorial almost. He was mine.
I found myself smiling about things that amused me and I wanted to share with him. I worked my usual shift on Sunday at The Gardie Tav and found the hours flying past. Sunday wasn’t as busy as a Saturday, but there was plenty going on. I made my way through the crowd of dancers and drinkers with a wire tray balanced high in the air above their heads. At each table I stacked the empty glasses before hoisting it again, fluidly avoiding the tightly packed bodies with ease and experience.
Back behind the bar, I began to stack the glasses into the dishwasher. Charlie moved up beside me.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” he asked in a puzzled tone.
“Huh?”
“You. That pretty boy over there has been desperate to get your attention all night. He practically groped you as you went past and you never even saw. And there’s the older dude over in the corner giving you goo-goo eyes, and the guy with a plank up his arse who’s now talking to Gary. I’ve never seen you pick up while you’re on the job, Jake, but you usually flirt with them. Tonight it’s like you’re blind.”
Blind.
Wham! And suddenly Patrick was on my mind again.
“See!” Charlie continued. “You’re not even listening to me. You have a silly look on your face. Aw, hell! Are you in love?”
Shit! Love? If there is one word guaranteed to send a twenty-six-year-old guy running from the room, it’s the word “love.” Yeah, okay, I can think of a couple more, like “sexually transmitted disease,” “unplanned pregnancy,” and “menopause.” But seriously, love? How could I be in love with a guy who firstly wasn’t gay, and secondly I’d seen only a couple of times?
“Fuck off, Charlie,” I replied good-naturedly. “So I missed a couple of guys flirting. How did you make the leap from not flirting to in love?”
Charlie just folded his beefy arms across his chest. “It was the dopey look in your eyes. I’ve seen it before. You’ll soon run through the whole of the seven dwarfs. You start dating and it’ll be Bashful and Happy you’re imitating. Then you start fucking the guy and you’ll turn into Sleepy. Then it’s just a matter of time before you have a fight and it’ll be Grumpy. Then the relationship will be all over and you’ll be wiser at the end of it all, just like Doc.”
I shook my head at his convoluted thinking. “What about poor Sneezy?”
Charlie looked at me like I was dumb. “It was an analogy, dude! Work with me here. No analogy is perfect. Just like you’re no Snow White and the poor guy you’re mooning over is no Prince Charming.”
“Well, I’m glad. Because if there was I’d have to put you in the role as the wicked queen and I really don’t want to see you in a dress!”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “See! There’s the Jake we all know and love. Welcome back. Now smile nicely at that pretty boy and see if he’ll buy another round of drinks for his mates.”
MONDAY I had some bad news for Patrick. I was upset at the news, but once again family won over friendship. And this was for family. Entering Patrick’s home made me feel better because the house was a reflection of Patrick himself. It smelled like him. Or I guess more accurately, his sheets smelled like him. I found myself burying my face in his pillow to get his scent.
