The Harder They Fall

by Debbie McGowan

  As predicted, Josh had washed his hair three times since he came home from work. The first was superseded by ‘an accident with a bottle of styling spray’, the second made him look like ‘a chip pan after it’s been on fire’ and the third put him right back to where he’d started. All of this was a shouted dialogue, with him tearing around upstairs, and George offering food, making cups of coffee, checking if he was anywhere near ready, and so on, from downstairs. After no response for a good ten minutes or so, George went through to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the kettle’s chrome surface. He hated bow ties, thought they made him look like a clown, especially when he was younger and his hair was that bit longer, or more accurately, wider, because it was very curly and grew outwards, not downwards. As he made his way back to the lounge to wait out the last five minutes before Kris was due, Josh came tearing down the stairs and dashed past him in a blur. Bewildered, George followed him, fully inhaling the scent of aftershave in his wake.

  “Have you seen a…ah!” Josh pulled the pink silk scarf free of the sofa cushion. He draped it around his neck and turned to George. “OK. I’m ready, and with five minutes to spare. How impressive is that? And the dry cleaner got rid of that blackcurrant stain—not bad after twenty years, huh?” He pointed at his pristine trousers to emphasise the point and smiled. George didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring, and with a very odd expression on his face. “What’s the matter?” Josh frowned, examining the front of his shirt. “Don’t tell me I’ve spilt something down me already.”

  “No, you haven’t,” George uttered. “You look…” What could he say? Hot? So damned hot that I could push you onto that sofa right here and now and hang the party? Could he ever have said anything like that to Josh? “You look kind of like Don Johnson, only…” This wasn’t going well at all. He tried again, settling on: “You look very dapper.”

  “Thanks.” Josh still seemed somewhat puzzled by George’s reaction. “So do you, although how is it that you’ve reached our age without being able to fasten a tie properly?”

  “Well, on the ranch we found they kind of got in the way of herding and clearing out stables and stuff,” he said nervously, as Josh approached him. “And they don’t go well with t-shirts,” he added, fighting two completely incompatible urges: to back away, or grab him and kiss him. His heart was beating so hard and so fast that Josh felt it against the side of his hand and placed his palm on George’s chest, which only served to make the situation a hundred times worse.

  “Are you feeling OK?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Your heart’s racing. Excited about tonight? It’s going to be great fun.”

  “I hope so,” George mumbled, willing his tie to be done already.

  “There you go,” Josh smiled and gave it a final tug to straighten it, just as Kris knocked on the door. George was unbelievably relieved to have a reason to move away.

  “Hey,” Kris greeted him. “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah, sort of.”

  “I’m really looking forward to this party. Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Good, good. More to the point, is Josh ready?”

  “Cheeky!” Josh called from the lounge. “I’ve been ready for ages.”

  George shook his head and held up his hand, mouthing the words ‘five minutes’. Josh appeared in the hall a couple of seconds later and looked out, past George and Kris.

  “Is that…Oh my God, it is, isn’t it?” He walked straight past them, examining the black limo parked outside.

  “Yep. The exact same one,” Kris beamed. It was a long shot, but he figured that limousine companies kept their cars for as long as they worked and looked up to the job, so he’d phoned the company who had provided them with their car for the sixth form ball and asked what the chances were of getting the same one. Twenty years on, they managed to find it, and all because Kris remembered a drunken remark from Dan about the number plate matching his initials, delivered as part of an elaborate tale of how he was going to be rich enough to have his own chauffeur-driven limo when he finished uni. He hadn’t quite reached that point, but he wasn’t doing too badly, and some of the cars he’d owned probably hadn’t cost that much less anyway.

  “Right, let’s get going then!” Kris urged them on. It was seven o’clock and they were picking up Eleanor at ten past, Jess at quarter past and Shaunna and Adele at twenty past. It was going be tight, but traffic allowing, they would be there on time, unlike the original deal, where Adele’s fussing with her hair was matched by more of the same from Josh; add to this a last-ditch attempt to persuade Shaunna to go and they’d arrived almost an hour late.

  When they reached Eleanor’s apartment, Josh went to the door, as she had been his date last time and this was, as far as possible, what they were intending again. With Dan and Andy stuck in Kathmandu, Jess was going to ‘play gooseberry’ to Josh and Eleanor, Shaunna and Adele gladly paired up, leaving Kris and George together—a far more comfortable arrangement the second time around, but for George’s nervousness about seeing all his old classmates.

  “Wow,” Josh said as Eleanor’s front door slowly opened and revealed his friend in her floor-length, deep blue dress. “Ellie, that’s stunning.”

  “You’re looking pretty fine yourself, Mr. Sandison,” she smiled, and carefully stepped down next to him. “These shoes are a bloody nuisance, though.”

  Josh held out the crook of his arm for her to take and they strolled along the path, towards the waiting limo. In the back, Kris was pouring Champagne into glasses and handed one to each of them as they settled into their seats.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. A limo and everything! It’s…I can’t believe this is happening!” Eleanor beamed at the other three, her eyes wide and glittery with eye shadow and wonder. To them she looked the same as she always had, even though they were not privy to the lament that went with trying to hide the bags of six weeks of new baby with foundation and clever eye liner. She looked back at James, who was standing in the doorway, holding Toby; Oliver was standing next to him, sulking. Eleanor waved briefly and turned her attention to her friends and her Champagne.

  Next stop: Jess. She wasn’t wearing her dress from the sixth form ball, nor anything remotely similar. They all knew this, because it had been the most revealing gown of the night, not that she’d cared. Back then, she was only too happy to have her full cleavage on display, although that dress revealed a fair bit more than mere cleavage. Instead, she’d opted for the one she’d bought as a potential choice for Eleanor’s wedding—the red and orange slinky number with the slit up the side—and it was perfect for this occasion, other than if common sense had prevailed, in which case she’d have been wearing a polo neck and trousers.

  “Excellent! Who organised this?” she asked, lifting a long, shapely leg over the door sill.

  “Kris!” George and Josh exclaimed in unison.

  “Nice work!” she said and gave him a peck on the cheek, once she’d carefully slid along the seat until she was opposite George. Kris handed her a glass of Champagne.

  “Glad you appreciate it,” he smiled. Just the two ‘girls’ to go now. Shaunna had sent him text updates throughout the saga of persuading Adele to come to the reunion, so he was aware of what had caused the problem in the first place and somehow had to broach the subject with Jess. “You upset Adele earlier,” he said quietly.

  “Did I? Good. She’s so ditzy sometimes. How did I upset her?”

  “By calling her whatever it was you called her.”

  “I can’t remember what I called her, but she deserved it. She told Dan about tonight, when we’d agreed we weren’t going to tell them until they got back.”

  “Actually, that was your idea,” Eleanor said in the least accusatory tone she could muster.

  “Sort of,” Josh said, trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. “We all agreed that we shouldn’t tell them until it
was too late for them to do anything about it.”

  “Whatever, there was no need for her to mention it at all,” Jess said defiantly.

  “It wouldn’t do any harm to apologise for calling her names, though,” George suggested. It was, he thought, an entirely reasonable thing to suggest, but Jess didn’t agree.

  “Apologise? To Adele? Are you being serious, George? I’m not bloody apologising to her, when she’ll have done it to stir things up, and she damn-well succeeded too. Andy went absolutely nuts on the phone. He’s probably gone and got himself into all kinds of trouble and it’s all down to her.”

  George looked down at his lap. He wanted to challenge what Jess was claiming, but he didn’t think he could find the correct combination of diplomacy and assertiveness, so he stayed quiet, as did everyone else for a couple of minutes. They were almost with Adele and Shaunna now and there was no way they could get in the limo with things the way they were. Josh looked to George, who was sitting to his right and playing with the stem of his Champagne flute, then to Jess, sitting opposite, running her finger around the rim of her own glass. He took George’s hand in his own and gave it a squeeze, an action that wasn’t going to calm or reassure him, not the way Josh was making him feel tonight. Unaware of this, Josh kept hold and started to speak to Jess, but not as a friend; as a therapist.

  “It is possible to say you’re sorry for one specific aspect and not compromise on anything else. You could perhaps apologise for the name calling, but at the same time make it clear that you don’t agree with what she’s done. What do you think?”

  “Oh no!” Jess said loudly. “No, no, NO! I’m not playing this game, Joshua. I’ll tell you what. I’ll say sorry to her, but not because I am sorry. I’ll do it to keep the peace. She’s so bloody thick she won’t even realise. How about that? Does that suit your requirements, dear counsellor?” She tried to stare him down. He maintained eye contact and didn’t say a word, until it was she who looked away. She threw back the rest of her Champagne, slamming the empty glass down on the black felted mini-bar, with no effect whatsoever. They had pulled up outside Dan and Adele’s flat by this time, and the two remaining friends were already on their way out to the car, giggling and squealing like they were teenagers once more.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Jess hissed, then turned on her best fake smile as they clambered in, Shaunna first, followed by Adele.

  “Hi!” Adele said brightly, looking around the group in the back. “Ooh! Champagne. This is great, you guys.”

  Kris passed the last two glasses to the newest passengers and they both slurped giddily at the contents. It was apparent that it wouldn’t make a jot of difference whether Jess apologised or not, because Adele didn’t seem remotely bothered by what had passed between them. This was all down to Shaunna’s good work, knowing precisely how to talk her friend around, so that she was aware that what she’d done, whether deliberate or not, would have been quite hurtful to Jess. Unfortunately, she’d stopped short of advising against bringing this up in conversation.

  “I just wanted to say,” Adele began, swivelling in her seat to face Jess. Shaunna was sat between them and shrank back as far as she could. “I’m really, really sorry for telling Dan about tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Jess grunted begrudgingly. “And I’m sorry I called you…whatever it was I called you.”

  “Oh, that’s OK,” Adele smiled. This time it was Josh who stared into his lap. He’d seen that smile before and it wasn’t a good sign. Adele wasn’t quite as dense as she liked to make out and had a malicious streak that was usually reserved for Dan. Now it was directed right at Jess and the close proximity of the warring factions didn’t give any room for manoeuvre, physically or psychologically. “I totally understand,” she continued, unperturbed by the presence of the other six people—seven, including the driver, who was safely concealed by a relatively soundproof black screen. “I mean, while the cat’s away. And of course you don’t want Andy worrying about all that, not when he has Dan to think about. So you’re right. It was a stupid, selfish thing to do.”

  Eleanor couldn’t believe Adele had just said it. They’d all thought it, but no-one would ever have said it. And now it was Jess’s turn.

  “Don’t you dare come the moral high ground with me, you cheap little slut! Who was it that was pregnant with one man’s baby and marrying another, in your big, tacky meringue of a dress, pretending to be the innocent little bride? And as for Andy worrying about Dan. After the shit he’s put him through over the years? But then it’s no bloody wonder is it? Not when he’s got to put up with you!”

  Shaunna cleared her throat and Josh glared at her, his eyes imploring her not to say a word. They were going to have see this one through, because however well-meant or carefully chosen the intervention, it would be taken, distorted, and used to beat them by whichever got a good hold of it first. Their driver chose this moment to pull back his screen and inform them they had arrived.

  “Thank merciful God,” Josh muttered. He, Eleanor, George and Kris waited, until Adele, then Shaunna, then Jess, got out, the latter storming straight across the car park after Adele, leaving Shaunna shell-shocked and standing on her own. Through force of habit, and because he cared, Kris shuffled past the others and went to her. In the distance, they could still hear Jess and Adele screaming at each other.

  “I’ll go see if I can talk them down,” Eleanor said, although she didn’t envisage success. She glugged the rest of her Champagne and edged along the seat, hoisting her dress up to her knees in order to step down onto the tarmac. “Bloody skirt. Now I remember what a damned nuisance it was last time. See you in a mo.” She paused to readjust her outfit, then disappeared from view, leaving Josh and George alone in the back of the limousine.

  “Well, I suppose this might mean they get it out of their system before they ruin everyone’s night,” Josh remarked.

  “Um, yeah, I suppose,” George said quietly.

  “You don’t think you started it, do you? Because it was going to happen, whatever any of us said.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s, err…what I mean is…I dunno, maybe I should keep my mouth shut and leave the talking to you.”

  “Hey, remember what happened with Ellie? Imagine how that would’ve ended if you’d left it to me. No, what you said was right, but Jess didn’t want to neutralise the situation. She was spoiling for a fight and we all know why. Anyway, time we went inside and joined the party, don’t you think?”

  Josh gave George’s hand one final squeeze and released it, then shuffled along the seat and out into the evening air, seemingly oblivious to the effect that his uncharacteristic behaviour was having. George stayed where he was: he needed a moment to try and get his head together, a confused mass of arousal and reluctance pooling like a pit of tar in his stomach. He remembered now, when it all started; that mind-numbing crush that rose up around him, drawing in on him until he could think of nothing else. Time had quelled it to a constant ache, like an untreated abscess, and more recently still, it had mutated into a wish only partly fulfilled. Had his compromise of accepting a house-share with Josh destroyed his chances of ever having a relationship with anyone else? He’d begun to think this was so and had been well on the way to convincing himself that it was enough. But now the crush was back, with a vengeance, only this time he wasn’t sure he could beat it into submission.

  “Are you coming?” Josh poked his head back through the open door.

  George climbed out and smoothed down his trousers, his eyes averted.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Another one of those ‘it’s too complicated’ things, is it?”

  “Something like that, yeah. I’m dreading this.” There. He’d said it.

  “Why?”

  “Because coming out was tough.”

  “You once told me that you never stop coming out.”

  “Did I? That was quite profound, and also total bollocks.”

 
“I disagree. However, do you really think no-one at school figured out you were gay? Anyone who matters will either have realised long ago, or decided they don’t care one way or the other. Just be yourself and have fun. All right?”

  George shrugged. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Maybe, but look.” Josh pointed to Kris, who had just paid their chauffeur and was now chatting to a couple of new arrivals and playing up his ‘gayness’ to full effect. George frowned sulkily.

  “There’s no way I’m doing that,” he said.

  “You don’t need to. Just be yourself,” Josh repeated. “Now come on, let’s go!” He walked away towards Eleanor, who was waiting impatiently outside the entrance, leaving George to trail behind. Kris fell in step with him and gave him a nudge.

  “Have you seen?” he asked, nodding towards Jess and Adele, who were still bickering, but looked as if they might have reached enough of a truce to enjoy the evening ahead; they hugged awkwardly as they made their way back to their other friends.

  “That’s something,” George grumbled. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and huffed.

  “Come on, grumpy-pants.” Kris looped his arm through George’s and pulled him inside.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

  FAMILIAR FEELING

  The party was certainly not in full swing, and didn’t really start swinging until the majority of the guests had consumed a couple of drinks or more, most initially experiencing that same mix of nervousness and excitement at seeing their fellow sixth formers twenty years on. The slenderness of youth had long since departed for most of them, as had the hair of around half of the men, but they were still of an age where mid-life vanity had yet to lead them into embarrassing attempts to comb over shiny pates or don ill-fitting pants. In passing conversations, some confessed that the outfit they were wearing was not the original article, which was ‘thrown out ages ago’, they’d say quickly, thoughts flitting to their attempts to shoe-horn themselves into said garment during the past couple of days. Kris was proud to declare to everyone he stopped to talk to that his suit was the one he wore when he was eighteen, even if it had been a year of mental illness and sustained lack of appetite that had determined his ability to fit into it. Likewise, Shaunna’s mingling was made easier by the option to lead questions about her teenage pregnancy into responses incorporating the dress she was wearing, bought by her parents two decades ago.