The Summer of Us

by Lily Morton

  “Oh shut up,” I sneer, heading over to the fridge and removing two bottles of beer. Tossing one to him I wander into his lounge with him on my heels like a cocker spaniel. I throw myself down onto the sofa and look up to find him staring. “What?” I ask sharply

  “Matty, much as I love Budweiser there is definitely a time when it’s not appropriate.” He looks at his watch. “Say ten o’clock in the morning.”

  “Lots of people drink at this time,” I say defensively.

  “Hmm yes, alcoholics or people living in Australia because of the time difference.” He takes the bottle off me before I can open it, and I protest inaudibly as he sticks it on the table. Then he settles into the sofa opposite me and looks at me beadily.

  “What?” I groan. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  His lips quirk. “Like what?”

  “Like we’re on Mastermind.”

  “I know what your specialist subject would be.” I look at him and he smiles triumphantly. “A gay man with a broken heart.”

  I sneer. “That’s so cheesy.”

  “Thank you,” he says gravely. He raises one eyebrow. “Come on. Spill it.”

  I raise my own eyebrow, something about the gesture reminding me of when Johnny does it with that arrogant tilt of his head that says he’s waiting for the right answer. I remember sucking him off a few days ago when he’d done it to me over a crossword puzzle. The image sends alternate waves of heat to my groin and pain to my heart. I rub my chest absently and see that Bram’s focus has now intensified.

  “Oh my God,” he says slowly. “I was totally joking but I’m right aren’t I? I’m getting very good at spotting emotional distress.”

  “Please don’t use those words,” I groan. “You sound like a fucking social worker.”

  He leans back on the sofa. “I’m prepared to wait all day you know, and don’t worry I’m not booked for a haircut or a suit fitting.”

  My lip twitches and then I sigh. “I thought my sex life was like the first rule of ‘Fight Club’ in that we don’t talk about it.”

  He psaws. “That’s your rule, not mine.” His brow creases in confusion. “I never really understood that.”

  I shrug. “I just never thought that you wanted to hear the grisly details. I’m quite a private person compared to you Bram. After all -”

  “No. Not that,” he dismisses with an airy wave of his hand. “It’s just that if the first rule of ‘Fight Club’ is not to talk about it, then where did all those extra members come from? I mean where did they hear about it?” I stare at him in astonishment and he flushes. “Sorry, sorry, you have emotional distress. It’s not the time for esoteric discussions.”

  “That’s about as far from an esoteric discussion as I am from marrying Prince Harry.”

  “That would be excellent though,” he smiles. “You could be Prince Matty and have loads of corgis and wear a crown, and he is quite an attractive ginger.”

  “Bram,” I say patiently, waiting for one of his flights of fancy to finish. “Can I go home now?”

  His gaze sharpens. “No you fucking can’t. I want to talk to you.” He stares at me hard in concentration. “So you’ve had your heart broken, but who did it?” I throw my head back letting Miss Marple do his thing and he chatters on. “Is it that broodily handsome project manager Christophe?” I raise my head and stare at him. “Okay not him,” he says hurriedly. “How about Bernard the plumber? He had the most spectacular moustache. Imagine that tickling your inner thighs.”

  “Oh my God he’s sixty,” I groan and he looks at me reprovingly.

  “Don’t be ageist Matty,” he says piously. “There’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle.” I shake my head in disgust. “Okay not him, so barring you going straight for the first time in a long time that only leaves …” His gaze sharpens. “John.”

  I can’t help the flinch at the sound of his name, and Bram’s gaze manages to sharpen and soften at the same time. “Oh my God Matty,” he says softly. “John really?”

  I nod and he comes over to the side of me, dragging me into a hug. I lay my head against his shoulder as we stare ahead. “I knew there was something,” he muses. “When we came over there for the weekend the sparks were visible, but I never dreamt for a minute that he’d go that way.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say quietly. “This is private business Bram. I don’t want you telling anyone.”

  He looks hurt. “Matt when have I ever told anyone your private business?”

  I stare at him in astonishment. “You tell the boys everything. You have weaker lips than Pete Burns.”

  “Not if you say that it’s private,” he says indignantly, and I nod because that’s true so he relaxes. Then he stiffens, shooting me a glare. “What did he do?” he asks sharply, his customary easy going nature gone in a flash. “Was he just playing on your side of the fence like some of those assholes that you’ve been with before?”

  I stare at him incapable of speaking for a minute because it’s suddenly blindingly clear to me that John wasn’t playing. I’d behaved as though he was just experimenting with me, and it was only when we stood in the gym together that last day that I’d known suddenly and clearly that this wasn’t a game for him. I’d realised it too late.

  My silence has wound Bram up even more. “Fucking bastard. Did he take the piss out of you? Did he hurt you? Did he drive a car through the window of a car dealership?”

  “Bram!” I can’t help laughing. “Stop watching ‘Queer as Folk’ for advice on gay people’s problems.”

  He huffs. “Charlie Hunnam played a very attractive character.”

  I nod my head. “Yes, he was a very attractive character.”

  He throws his arm back around me. “Matty I’m very comfortable with my self-image and I’m always prepared to admit when someone is handsome, but just not as handsome as me.” I shove him laughing, but it’s half-hearted and I cave because talking to Bram is actually like talking to myself.

  “He didn’t do anything,” I admit and sigh. “Bram, I think that I was the one to screw up this time. I just never saw it.”

  He looks at me queryingly and I find himself telling him everything. When I’ve finished he reaches over and retrieves the bottles of beer, opening them cavalierly on his very expensive coffee table. He gives me mine with a solemn gesture. “I think it is time for beer.”

  I snort and take an unhappy swallow. “What do you think?” I ask softly.

  He sighs and I prepare for the sympathy that he always gives me. “Matty you’re a fucking twat.”

  I nod and then jerk. “What?”

  He nods. “You really are babe. Your problem is that you treat all your men like they’re just waiting to leave.” He holds his hand up to stem my protest. “You do Matt and it fucks me off. Granted some of them,” he pauses. “Okay a lot of them were just passing through, but some of them weren’t and you never saw it. Instead you focused on the unattainable or the feckless ones because your heart was never engaged. If you didn’t care, then it wouldn’t hurt when they rejected you.”

  He looks at me solemnly. “All men aren’t like Ben or your dad you know. There are some good ones about, and God I just want to see you pick one. Someone that would treat you right. Someone that would love you properly because they recognise that you’re fucking awesome.” I smile at him with tears in my eyes but he looks sad. “I think John is a good bloke. I’ve always liked him because there’s something very forthright about him, something honest and bolstering.” He looks at me. “I don’t think that he’d start something like that, make such a big change to his life, if he hadn’t thought it through. He strikes me as the sort of man who has to have good reasons to do anything. I don’t think that he’s a jump in and see kind of bloke.”

  I nod, closing my eyes and rubbing the cool bottle across my hot eyes. “I know that,” I groan. “I just don’t know why I didn’t remember it.”

  “Because you’re in love
with him.”

  I jerk the bottle away and look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not in love with him. I didn’t let myself.”

  He shakes his head pityingly. “Babe, love isn’t something that obeys your instructions and comes neatly packaged. It’s a wee bit wild and wilful. You don’t let yourself love, you just love.” He stares at me challengingly and I slump.

  I groan. “Fuck, I do love him,” I say sadly.

  “Why?”

  I close my eyes making it easier to have a conversation like this. “Because he’s fucking gorgeous. He’s fiercely intelligent but he’s also kind and honest and funny, and there’s something about him that feels like -” I pause.

  “What?”

  “Coming home. When I see him I feel happy and I feel it in my chest and stomach, this lift.”

  “Babe, that’s love.”

  I nod. “And I fucked it up. Fuck I’m such a twat.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late. From what you said he might feel the same.”

  “Bram you didn’t see him at the end. He was shut down and cold, so cold, and she was there. I can’t compete with that.”

  “Compete with fucking what? Have you met her? She’s so cold she could freeze a fucking snowman.”

  “But she’s his wife and he wants her back. He let her in and threw me out.”

  “Ex-wife. I do wish you’d remember that, and he wanted her back past tense. To be honest, I think and so does Charlie, that a lot of that was hurt pride. She was a challenge that he’d failed at, not a lost love. Also, not to be pedantic here but he didn’t have much choice other than to let you leave when you’d just told him that you weren’t interested in his piffling little sexual identity problems, encouraged him to have other men and said to just call you for a quick fuck if his balls were full.”

  “Oh my God,” I groan. “I know. I’m such a fucking idiot. He can do so much better than me.”

  “Fuck off. He couldn’t do any better. You’re the best man that I know Matt and you always will be, and you’re fucking gorgeous. Any man would be lucky to hit that.” I laugh and he smiles. “He’d be a twat to let you go. I don’t think that John’s a twat and I really do think that he has strong feelings.”

  “Not anymore,” I say sadly. “Anyway it would just be another relationship where I’m fighting to prove how worthwhile I am, and I’d be competing with men and women with this one. Bram, he has the chance of a family and children if he isn’t with me. He won’t be talked about behind his back as if being taken up the arse makes you weak. He won’t have prejudice directed at him if he even holds hands with a man. He won’t be spat at in the street. Jesus, gay people are being murdered.”

  “I know,” he says passionately. “And you’re right. The world isn’t fair, but wouldn’t you rather be facing that world head on, hand in hand with someone that will support you and love you and take care of you?”

  “I would, but Bram I just want someone for once to fight for the right to stand beside me. Nobody has ever done that for me and I really need it. I need to know that I’m worth fighting for, because I would always fight for the one that I’m with. I don’t want to be someone that’s chucked to the side and binned because there’s something more important on the horizon.”

  He stares at me. “I’m not getting through to you at all.”

  I smile sadly. “It must be strange being on the other side of this equation.” I sit up, mind made up suddenly. “You know what, I don’t even want to be in London at the moment. I think I might pack up the car and get away for the weekend.”

  “Matty please think about what I’ve said. Maybe when you get back you could see him.”

  “Maybe.” I wave and head on out, knowing exactly where I need to go.

  John

  I’m sitting in the early morning sunshine staring at the pool numbly when I hear the sound of Bella shouting my name in a very shrill voice, and I give a deep sigh. Jesus I really don’t need to talk to her this morning about which fashion designer should design her new wedding dress. I just want to sit quietly, let the world go by and not think. Similar to what I’ve been doing for the last three days.

  My wishes are ignored as I hear the clicking of high heels behind me and then Bella slides into the seat opposite me, prompting a flash of irritation because that’s Matt’s chair. The irritation fades as quickly as it came because this isn’t Bella’s fault. I don’t know what the matter is with me. I’m not hungry, I can’t sleep and I just miss him.

  I start as I become aware that she’s talking and has stopped, obviously waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “How rude. What did you say?”

  She shakes her head. “Is it the book, John?”

  “Is what the book?”

  “Is that what’s making you so distracted?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I finished the book a few days ago. I guess I’m just in a quiet mood,” I finally say lamely.

  She sniffs delicately. “Darling there’s quietness and then there’s catatonia.” I snort and she smiles coolly. “Is there someone else?”

  I jerk. “What? What gives you that idea?”

  “You’re distracted, you don’t seem to see me and you haven’t made any sort of sexual advance to me since I’ve been here. We’re not even sleeping in the same bed because you’ve stuck me over the other side of the house for God’s sake.” She pauses. “Is there someone else?”

  I have a sudden image of telling her that yes there is. That he’s six foot and gorgeous. For a second I actually contemplate having a chat with her and telling her everything, and that maybe we could become friends, but then I realise that I actually don’t want to be friends with her because I don’t like her very much.

  I don’t owe her any loyalty because she’s given me none. She’s avaricious and grasping, egotistical to the extreme and petulant and spoilt. She never loved me and I certainly never loved her. I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love -

  My thoughts stutter to a stop. Oh shit! I sit back in consternation as Bella continues to talk, but her words are indistinct and there’s a ringing in my ears. Fuck, I love him. I love Matt, my Matty. I love everything about him, his eyes, his smile, the wild mess of his hair and his warmth and kindness that draw me like a magnet. I love the warm citrus smell of him and lying together wrapped around each other feeling safe and at peace.

  I become aware that Bella has stopped talking and is now staring at me, and that I really should have scheduled this epiphany better, say not in front of my ex-wife and way before I shoved my real love out of the house in a fit of petulance, making him think that I wanted this woman who has never cared an inch for me.

  For a second my stomach twists as I imagine how hurt he was, and then reality rears its ugly head in that he never wanted me for good anyway. He’ll probably settle in the end for some proudly out gay man. They’ll marry and live happily ever after. I clench my fist at the thought and then a thought whispers insidiously in my head. What if he felt the same way? I know that he cared. I always saw that because he wouldn’t have treated me so well if he hadn’t cared, but what if it was more?

  Suddenly I know that I have to see him. I have to tell him how I feel and ask him the same. I can’t be anything but forthright because that’s me. I don’t play games and I meet things head on. He may not want me in the end, but I have to take the chance and tell him how I feel.

  I brush the worry of rejection aside for now and find that I’ve got to my feet, abruptly if Bella’s wide eyes are anything to go by. Jesus my body nowadays operates outside my control, rather like my life.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to Bella abruptly. “You have to go.”

  “What?” The screech hurts my ears.

  “Yes, I’m sorry but you have to leave because I have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I have to find someone and make things right.” I’m babbling now, helping her to her feet while she looks at me as if she’s contemplating measuring m
e for a straightjacket. If this is madness though I don’t want to be sane because I feel alive for the first time.

  “John, have you lost your mind?”

  “Yes, probably darling.”

  “There is someone then?”

  I stop. “I’m so sorry Bella,” I say gently. “There is and I’m in love with them, and I need to know if they love me back.”

  She glares at me, but as it’s mostly comprised of chagrin and pride I don’t take it to heart. She must see something in me that says how resolved I am because she steps back regaining her customary cool, and I relax because she’s fine with this. I think that I’d actually be peeved if I gave a shit and thought that she did the same.

  “Well darling I hope that you’ll be very happy. Obviously this isn’t going to interfere with my getting the house?”

  “Obviously,” I say wryly, thanking God that I’m paying her a lump sum and won’t have to see her again.

  “Well then I suppose the civilised thing to do would be for the three of us to meet for lunch and talk civilly.”

  I supress a smile at the thought. “You’re right.”

  “I’m always right John,” she says chilly. “Now what’s her name?”

  “Ah, now that’s the thing!”

  ***

  Five hours later I stand outside Bram’s front door and bang on it. I don’t hear anything so I bang again loudly for good measure, and then I hear footsteps and what sounds like muffled cursing. The door jerks open and his irritated face appears. “What the hell?” His words trail off. “John!”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you,” I say stiffly, as he stands back to let me in. “I just wondered whether you’ve seen Matt?”

  When I turn back all of the irritation has drained from his face and he’s looking at me with what looks like a strange mixture of astonishment, hope and caution. This surprises me because although he’s always been friendly enough to me, it’s obviously not family friendly the way that he is with Matt – oh!