by Sean Kennedy
Dec tossed the paper in the air and it floated around us like Collingwood confetti as I descended upon him. Like a Valkyrie.
“WE’RE NOT going to spy on him again?” Fran asked.
Sure, spying on Dec’s meeting with Greg Heyward had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it had turned out for the best as Dec had been glad to see me on his way out of it, but I didn’t want to make this a common occurrence. “No, we’re sending a chaperone.”
“You mean a spy.”
“You say spy, I say chaperone, let’s call the whole thing off.”
“That sounds like a sensible idea,” Roger said.
“He was quoting a musical,” Fran told him.
“Of course he was,” Roger mumbled. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
“Ignore him,” Fran said to me. “Who’s the spy, then?”
“You’re married to him.”
“Roger?” Fran cried in unison with Roger almost falling off the couch and asking, “Me?”
“The least likely spy there ever was.”
Fran shook her head. “This plan is really transparent and stupid, even for you.”
“So transparent and stupid that Dec will see it for what it is,” I agreed.
“And what’s the point?”
“There is no point. It just makes sense.”
“None of this makes sense,” Roger said.
“But for once, you are,” Fran said, leaning down and kissing him.
Roger gave the sweetest smile, as if he was still astounded that this fabulous woman owned him of her own free will.
“I’ll do it!” he announced.
Fran and I grinned at each other.
THANKFULLY, DEC didn’t put up any resistance when Roger suggested, not so subtly, that he accompany him to coffee with Jasper Brunswick. I think he felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to do it alone, although that option would have been far better than me being there. He didn’t even seem surprised when I didn’t put up any resistance about Roger going instead of me; Dec would have known with all certainty I had something to do with it in the first place.
So instead I spent the morning with Fran and the twins.
Fran looked completely frazzled by the time the twins were fed and down for the count. I wasn’t much help, as they knew I wasn’t their father and acted grumpily. I was a poor substitute for the real thing, who walked in the door after Fran and I finally had the time to make a coffee and sit down.
“You should marry Declan,” Roger announced as he threw his keys and wallet down on the table.
“He can’t,” Fran reminded him, eyeing the baby monitor in case any sound came from it. “Jesus, honey, show some tact.”
“Well, when he can, he should.” Roger clasped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let him get away.”
I always knew Roger had a man crush on Dec, but this was a new level. “Yeah, okay, Rog, I’ll be sure to trap him in a cage and wheel him down to the registry office the day the marriage act is amended.”
“Registry office?” Fran cried. “No, there will be no registry office.”
“My wedding, remember?” I pointed out.
“I don’t care. Even you don’t want to get married in a registry office.”
I didn’t, but that was beside the point. “We’re getting off track here. How did it go, Rog?”
“Oh, fine. I had a really nice salad. I thought it would be weird because there were orange pieces in it, but it turned out the sweetness contrasted really nicely with the tang of the prosciutto.”
Fran and I looked at each other.
“He’s been watching a lot of Poh and Curtis Stone,” Fran explained.
“Riiiight, I’m glad you discovered some culinary delights,” I said to Roger, “but what happened with Jasper and Dec?”
“That was fine, too.”
I was disappointed. “Dec didn’t hit Jasper?”
“No, I’m pretty sure Dec doesn’t like hitting people?”
“He sure caused a lot of injury on the football field,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, but that’s different, isn’t it?”
“Hon,” Fran said patiently. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“Well, I mean, a footy player never really intends to injure another player—”
“He’s doing this deliberately,” Fran said to me.
“Threaten to take the Lifestyle Food Channel away from him,” I suggested.
“No!” Roger’s eyes widened.
“That would be punishing me,” Fran said. “He’s been cooking a lot of really good dishes lately.”
“Really? How come he’s never tried them on us?” I asked.
“Oi!” Roger protested. “All eyes on me.”
“I love it when he’s forceful,” Fran smirked.
Roger ignored her. “Jasper was late. So I thought it would be just Declan and me.”
“A dream come true,” his wife interjected.
“It’s cute,” I agreed.
“Whatever,” Roger said. “But he eventually turned up, and things were really frosty for a while. They talked about Heyward and the book, and Jasper had a few choice words about you, Simon—”
“Of course he did.”
“—but then—”
“What did he say about me?”
Roger looked uncomfortable. “I can’t remember specifically.”
“Bullshit. Think harder.”
“Well, he said all the Heyward stuff would have been a lot easier if you weren’t such a jerk.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“Yeah, he said you’d do that if you had half a chance.”
“Half a chance? I’ll do it if there’s a quarter!”
“Simon, have a beer,” Fran said.
“It’s not even midday,” I reminded her. “I’m good.”
She repeated herself more forcibly, and I went to the fridge and got out one for each of us.
“But how would the Heyward stuff have been easier?” I asked. “They did whatever they want, and for the longest time Dec just let it wash—”
“Who’s telling this story?” Roger reminded me. “Anyway. That was when Dec kind of exploded.”
“But he still didn’t hit him?”
“Simon, get off the hitting bandwagon,” Fran said.
“Basically Declan said nobody was to blame for the Heyward shit other than Heyward himself. And Jasper. And that if Jasper had had more balls then maybe he wouldn’t have been so quick to do all of Heyward’s dirty work for him. And that was when Jasper started to cry.”
He said the last bit so offhandedly that I thought I had misheard him. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah, run that bit by us again,” Fran said, her beer forgotten.
“Jasper started to cry. I mean, he pretended like he wasn’t. And he wasn’t full-on bawling, but he was trying to hide it and making it more noticeable.”
“Jasper Brunswick, crying,” I said in wonder. “No, I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.”
“I’d have to see it to believe it.”
“I saw it!”
“He was probably just manipulating you both. He’s very good at that shit. It’s a new tactic, but it obviously worked.”
“Simon,” Fran said gently. “Maybe it wasn’t a trick.”
“See, he’s got you fooled, and you weren’t even there!”
“I don’t think Dec was fooled. That’s why he hugged him.”
“What. The. Fuck.” I took a huge swig of my beer.
Even Fran looked amazed. “He hugged him?”
“The dude was crying. What did you think he should do?”
“Drown him in his bowl of soup!” I cried.
“Jasper didn’t have soup. He had bruschetta.”
“Of course he did.” I don’t even know why I said that. It’s not like I had anything against bruschetta. I quite liked bruschetta.
“How long did he hug him?” Fran asked.
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“Usual hug time, I guess.”
“Show us.”
He went to hug Fran, but she pushed him away. I found myself being swallowed up by Roger’s lanky arms.
It was a surprising amount of time.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said.
“I haven’t finished yet,” Roger replied.
“That’s far too long.”
“I’ve seen you and Roger hug longer than that,” Fran said. “And I don’t mean today.”
“Yes, but we’re friends,” I said. “Not mortal enemies.”
“I don’t think Dec is anybody’s mortal enemy.”
“Definitely not,” Roger agreed.
“I still don’t like it.”
Roger shrugged. “Declan said that Heyward fucked people over professionally, and Jasper was just another one in a long line. He said that he knew, he’d been one of them.”
I didn’t have a comeback for that one. It was true, and it was such a Declan thing to say to try and make someone feel better.
“And then Coby turned up.”
“What, he just happened to be passing by?”
“No, he was there deliberately. He had been the whole time, but hiding to make sure Jasper was okay.”
“To make sure Jasper was okay? Unbelievable!”
“He loves him,” Roger said. “He looks at Jasper like Declan looks at you. And you look at Declan.”
“Don’t make me puke, Roger.”
“Ditto,” Fran said.
“And Jasper looks at Coby the same way. I think it’s all pretty genuine.”
“Now I’m really going to puke.”
“Drink more alcohol,” Fran suggested.
It was a suggestion I was definitely down for. “You should never send two optimists in to do a realist’s job.”
“I think you mean pessimist,” Fran said as Roger disappeared to check on the babies.
“Pessimists are realists,” I said. “I need another drink.”
Actually, I needed many.
“I’M GOING to throw up,” I moaned, my face pressed against the passenger window.
“I’m not surprised.” Dec hit the button on his side, and my window began sliding down, almost taking my head with it. “If you’re going to puke, please make sure you do it outside.”
“You’re such a Florence Nightingale,” I said.
Fran had called him to come and take me home. The more I drank, the more maudlin I had become; it got to the point where I was sitting catatonic in the corner of their lounge and unable to speak to either of them.
“At the moment I think I’m more your chauffeur.”
“Will you still love me if I threw up in your car?”
“It’s your car, too. Would you still love me if I threw up in it?”
“Yes. Nothing would stop me from loving you. Even if you vomited on me.”
“That’s a relief. And kind of sweet, but really gross.”
“So you still love me?”
“You haven’t thrown up in the car, Simon,” he assured me.
“I know. I just want to know.”
His free hand stroked the back of my neck. “I don’t know why it’s being questioned, but, yes, I still love you.”
“Je ne sais pas pourquoi,” I said.
“Oh, god,” Dec said. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk and quoting Kylie.”
“I think you mean I’m cute all of the time.”
“Yes. But especially when you quote Kylie.”
“I don’t think I’m going to throw up anymore.”
“Good.”
“But I really need coffee.”
“That goes without saying.”
True love is when your partner will pull into a drive-through at two in the morning and not judge you as you eat french fries with a side of both strawberry thickshake and coffee.
It’s the best prehangover cure.
With a mouthful of fries I surveyed him balefully. “Did you really hug Jasper Brunswick?”
“Yes, I did,” he said without pause. “Is this what this is about? Did you really get drunk because I hugged Jasper Brunswick?”
“There were lots of reasons I got drunk.” I offered him a fry, but he declined.
“What were the others?”
“I dunno. Hugging Jasper. The looming worldwide chocolate shortage. The disappearance of bees. The fact J. K. Rowling hasn’t written any more Harry Potter books.”
“You’re right. That’s a lot of reasons to get drunk.”
“I know, right? Especially the Harry Potter thing.”
“Not the Jasper Brunswick thing?”
“You hugged him, Dec! After everything he’s done. It’s like you’re contaminated now. Do you know what you need? A Karen Silkwood shower.”
He looked at me blankly.
“You know, the movie with Meryl Streep? She gets infected with radiation and they scrub her clean with wire brushes. It’s a really good movie.”
“You want me to clean myself with a wire brush?”
“No. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Simon, you’re not making a lot of sense right now.”
“Nothing is. Everything’s topsy-turvy.”
“Let’s get you home.”
He was so understanding to everyone. I didn’t know whether to love him for it or smack him.
Love was the better option. Love, and sleep.
MY SHOULDER was being shaken by what felt like the world’s largest hand, and my brain was bouncing off the sides of my skull.
“Simon?”
“He’s not home,” I mumbled.
“Come on, you need to get up.”
“I didn’t see that in any rulebook.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened with Jasper?”
I opened one eye. “Didn’t you already tell me?” Or was I just remembering Roger’s narrative voice?
“I tried to, but you were distracted.”
“I was trying not to vomit.”
“You were more concerned about stuffing your face with fried food. And thinking that I was doing unnatural things with Jasper Brunswick.”
Oh, yeah.
“Unnatural things like hugging.”
“Whatever.” I closed my eyes again. “Tell me now.”
“Well, after Jasper and I made love, we pledged to keep it a secret, but I couldn’t keep it from you—”
I bolted upright. “What?” The room was spinning dangerously.
“Thought that would wake you.”
I was awake now. I whacked him over the head with one of the pillows. “That,” I said, not losing any time in driving the pillow into his gut, “isn’t funny!”
“Ow!” he cried as I hit him across the back. “Peace! Peace!”
“I suppose Roger was videotaping it, huh?”
“I surrender!” Dec yelled, but giggled most unbecomingly underneath my assault.
“Jasper Brunswick and who he fucks is a very tender subject with me, considering his last two known conquests.”
Declan lay where he had fallen, and I draped myself over him. He wrapped his arms around me, and it felt like my headache was beginning to lift.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s just, why did you have to hug him?”
“He was crying.”
“And you always have to be the protector.”
“I’ve heard it’s a noble trait.”
“Ugh, throwing my words back at me.”
He kissed me. “Oof, you smell like a distillery.”
“And you smell like Jasper Brunswick’s cheap cologne.”
“I do not!”
He didn’t. He smelled like his usual self.
“I know I overreacted yesterday. And it wasn’t just about the hug. It’s the fact that everybody else seems able to move on and accept these things, and I’m still just angry. I can’t forgive like you can. I can forget all the shit he’s ever done to me, but when I remember
what he did to you—”
“The truth is, you don’t forget the shit he’s done to you. You’re going to have to let it go. Simon, it’s not good for you.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You’re such a stress monkey.”
I burst out laughing. “A what?”
“A stress monkey. And I know you can’t stop it entirely, but I would really like you to try and reduce it. It’s not good for you.”
“You already said that.”
“Shows how much I mean it.”
I sighed my most sighingest sigh. “I’ll try. But only for you.”
“I’d like it if you tried for yourself, especially for your blood pressure, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“Okay.” I gave a small smile. “I heard you defended my honour.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Thank you.”
“Defending you is my pleasure. It’s just I have to do it so often.”
This time it was me with the unbecoming giggle.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Dec said.
“So how do things stand with Jasper at the moment?” I asked.
“Uh, I guess we’re kind of at a ceasefire, if he behaves himself.”
“Pfft, don’t expect that to last too long.”
“Well, if he tries, we’re going to have to try as well.”
“By we you mean me, right?”
“You’ve already admitted I am a much more forgiving person than you,” he said with the slightest of smirks.
“Pushover, you mean.”
“I prefer peacemaker.”
“Peacemakers have a habit of blowing up,” I reminded him.
“Please don’t talk about peacemakers, when I’m already worried about your blood pressure. Besides, they only blow up if you stand too close to microwaves. Or was that an urban myth?”
“Am I the microwave, or Jasper?”
He sighed. “I really don’t know anymore.”
Chapter 8
IT ONLY took a few days for there to be a rupture in the ceasefire.
From Reach Out Magazine, 29 March 2014
FROM OUT AND ABOUT WITH JASPER BRUNSWICK
HAPPY ENDINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT
I never thought I was a sappy person. I treated those who were with disdain, comfortable in the strength of my own belief that I would never be like those people. You know the ones. Those shiny happy people who find their soul mate and suddenly feel complete for the first time in their life. They used to make me want to throw up. But now….
