Personal Challenges

by K. C. Wells

  Ray nodded, his eyes wide and focused on Colin, his hand rubbing the leg of his jeans.

  “But you didn’t say a word.” Colin couldn’t believe it. “How could you be with me for three years—three years, Ray!—and not say a bloody word?”

  Ray’s breathing hitched, and another coughing fit overtook him. Colin watched him, waiting until it had passed, the questions piling up in his head. “I never saw you take any meds. Not once.”

  “When they first gave me the diagnosis, they told me I had seven to ten years, max. But then they said I wouldn’t need to start taking medication until I got sick.” Ray shuddered out a breath. “I felt healthy. It wasn’t until after I took the job here that I began showing signs of sickness.”

  A wave of cold crashed over Colin. “Fuck. Oh my God. That party.”

  Ray flushed. “What party?” His gaze wouldn’t meet Colin’s, however.

  Colin felt sick. “You know damn well what party. The one your friends organized the last year we were together, just before the end of term. The one where we both got very drunk. The one where we went back to your place and you said I ‘took advantage of you’.” He shivered. “The night—the one and only night—when you fucked me raw.” He lurched to his feet. “How? How could you have unprotected sex when you were fucking HIV+? Of all the irresponsible—”

  “That was down to you, remember? You wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Ray’s jaw trembled. “And I wasn’t sober enough to stop you.”

  “Then you should have told me the truth!” Colin yelled.

  “How could I? How the hell could I have told you?” Ray’s eyes were wild. “And it was because of that night that I ended us. I could never have stayed with you after that, always thinking that I might have infected you too.”

  “That’s why you took the job here? As a way of ending us?” Now it all made sense.

  Ray nodded miserably.

  Something still didn’t add up.

  “Then why the fuck did you keep in touch? Why send me Christmas cards? Why not make a clean break of it?”

  “Because I fucking loved you,” Ray shouted, only to start coughing again, and this time there was blood.

  Colin balled his fists. “You don’t fuck someone bareback and not reveal your status.”

  “I sent you cards because I had to make sure you were safe,” Ray whispered. “It was my only way of checking that you were still healthy.”

  Colin took a couple of deep breaths and then walked into the bathroom. He plucked his toothbrush and toothpaste from the shelf above the sink, and thrust them into the toiletries bag he’d left next to the shower. Then he walked back into the living room and grabbed his sweater from the back of the couch and stuffed it and the toiletries into his overnight bag.

  “What… what are you doing?” Ray stared at him, aghast.

  “Getting out of here. I cannot be around you right now,” Colin gritted out.

  “Your flight isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll get on the first flight I can organize.” Colin pulled his coat from the hook beside the front door.

  “Please. Colin. Don’t go like this,” Ray pleaded.

  Colin picked up his bag from the floor and threw his coat over his arm. “I… I don’t trust myself to be here right now. I’m leaving before I do something I’ll regret.” And with that he went to the door, opened it, and walked out of Ray’s flat and his life.

  By the time he reached the main street, he was shaking. He stood at the curb, watching for a taxi, his mind still reeling from Ray’s revelations, his heart still stinging from the betrayal. The ride to the airport went by in a blur of passing traffic, and when he got there, he went through the mechanics of changing his flight, his mind on autopilot. There were a few hours to kill before he was due to leave, and Colin retreated to the bar.

  He sat by the window, gazing out at the tarmac where the planes lined up at their respective gates, but he didn’t see them. He drank absently from his large glass of white wine, craving some measure of numbness that didn’t come. He knew it would eventually, but right then his emotions were too close to the surface, too raw.

  I just want to go home. To Ed.

  * * * * * *

  Ed switched off the TV with a sigh. There was nothing worth watching anyway, and it was getting late. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. 11.30 p.m. and still no call from Colin. Ed could have called, but he didn’t want to disturb Colin if he and Ray were in the middle of a serious conversation. He suspected there might be a few of those occurring over the weekend.

  Might as well get into bed. At least he’d be comfortable when Colin called to say good night. He went around the lounge, and smiled when Tigger stretched before dropping gracefully from the couch to the floor. “Yeah, it’s your bedtime an’ all, kitty.” Tigger ignored him as usual, strolling past him into the kitchen where his basket sat next to the fridge. Colin often joked Tigger had chosen that spot while he planned how to develop opposable thumbs to get into the fridge on his own.

  Ed switched off lamps, vaguely registering the sound of a car pulling up outside the house. When he heard a key in the front door, Ed strode into the hallway, just in time to see Colin enter the house and drop his bag onto the floor with a weary sigh.

  “What the ’ell are you doin’ ’ere? You’re not due back until tomorrow.”

  Colin arched his eyebrows. “Tell your bit on the side to leave, then. He’s not needed tonight.” He removed his coat and placed it on the chair beside the hall table.

  Ed guffawed. “You what? I ’ave quite enough on me plate with you. What makes you think I could cope with two fellas?” He stopped when he got a closer look at Colin. “Hey. Are you all right?”

  “Not really.” Colin opened his arms. “Come here. I need you.”

  Like Ed could refuse him anything.

  He walked into Colin’s open arms and slid his hands around his waist. There was the faintest whiff of alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?”

  Colin kissed his cheek. “No, but I wish I were. I had a glass of wine at the airport, and another during the flight.”

  That was enough to set Ed worrying. “Col? What’s wrong?”

  Colin released him. “I’m tired and I’m ready for bed. How about we talk there?”

  Ed nodded. “You go on up. I’ll grab a glass of water. Do you want one?”

  “Please.” Colin picked up his bag and headed for the stairs.

  Ed went into the kitchen and filled two glasses. After a last look around to make sure everywhere was locked up tight, he climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

  Colin was sitting fully clothed on the edge of the bed, staring at his reflection in the mirrored wardrobe door. There was such a dejected air about him that it sent shivers through Ed. He said nothing but placed the glasses on each side of the bed, and then commenced undressing. When Colin had still made no move, Ed padded barefoot around to his side of the bed and grasped the hem of his sweater.

  “Come on, let’s get you outta these clothes.”

  Colin gazed up at him. “Taking care of me?”

  Ed stopped and bent over to kiss him softly on the lips. “Don’t I always?” Then he resumed his task, pulling the sweater up and over Colin’s head. Colin slowly undid his jeans, moving like he was in a dream or something. Ed knelt at his feet, removed his shoes, and then tugged his jeans and briefs until they were off. Colin climbed under the sheets and laid his head on the pillows, his arms folded beneath. Ed followed suit and got in beside him, lying on his side, his head resting in the palm of his hand.

  “Okay,” he said quietly. “Tell me what ’appened.” He listened intently while Colin told him of Ray’s physical state. “Aw, the poor bloke.” Colin’s jaw tightened, and Ed stared at him, his scalp prickling. “What is it?”

  Colin gazed at him, his eyes empty and distant. He began to speak in a flat, monotone voice, and Ed listened in growing dismay and horror. When the implications hit him with f
ull force, Ed sat bolt upright in bed, his fists tight.

  “I’ll fucking kill ’im.” Blood pounded in his ears and his pulse raced.

  “No need,” Colin said wearily. “Time will accomplish that feat for you.”

  Ed gaped at him, his mouth open. “’Ow can you be so fuckin’ calm about this?” He scanned the room for something with which to vent his rage, and his gaze alighted on the glass beside the bed. He picked it up and hurled it at the wardrobe where it shattered into pieces, the mirror cracking along half its length. “Tell me! Because I don’t fucking get it.” His whole body trembled with impotent rage.

  Colin stared at him with wide eyes. “Hey. Listen to me. You need to calm down.” Before Ed could retort that he wasn’t about to calm down any fucking time soon, Colin laid a gentle hand on Ed’s thigh. “I know how you feel. Believe me, a few hours ago, I felt the same way. The only difference is, I’ve had time to think, to reflect.” His voice shook. “I had to move past the feelings of betrayal, and the only thing that helped me do that was the knowledge that it could have been a lot worse. I’m negative, Ed. Yes, he could have infected me that night, but he didn’t. I was lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Ed didn’t believe what he was hearing. “He could’ve given you a fuckin’ death sentence!”

  Colin said nothing but knelt up in bed, facing him, his arms slipping around Ed’s trembling body. “Ed? Babe? I need you. God help me, I really need you right now.”

  The hurt and pain in Colin’s voice pierced through the layers of anger and hopelessness, and Ed took several long, deep breaths. Colin lay down again and held out his arms, an invitation Ed could not refuse. He joined Colin, stretching out his body on top of him, their mouths fused in a long, lingering kiss. When they parted, Colin looked him in the eye.

  “Make it go away? Please?”

  Ed nodded and pushed his knees between Colin’s thighs. Colin wrapped his legs around Ed’s waist and held onto his shoulders while Ed began to move, slowly rocking against Colin’s dick in a leisurely, sensual grind.

  “I’ve gotcha,” Ed said, his voice suddenly husky. “An’ I’ll take care of ya too.”

  He meant those words with every cell in his body.

  The broken glass and shattered mirror could wait. Right then he had something much more important to take of.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rick nudged Angelo in the ribs with his elbow. “Go on, she’s on her own in the kitchen. Now’s the perfect time.”

  Angelo sighed. He knew Rick was right. It had been obvious all the way through Sunday lunch that something was wrong with Mum. She’d been quiet, answering questions with the barest response, and judging by his siblings’ expressions, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

  “Do you want me to come too?”

  Angelo was on the point of telling him no, when he reconsidered. “Yes. I might need your wisdom.”

  Rick arched his eyebrows. “Wow. I have wisdom? When did that develop?” He grinned. “Must be a bi-product of living with you. I was never wise before we met.”

  Angelo smiled and leaned over to kiss him on the lips, ignoring Luca’s instant imitation of retching. Angelo merely glanced over Rick’s shoulder at his brother and glared.

  Rick twisted his neck to gaze at Luca. “You’re just jealous. Rachel’s clearly not kissing you enough.” He chuckled to hear Luca’s explosive snort.

  Angelo tugged his arm. “Ignore the brat. Let’s go talk to Mum.” He got up, Rick joining him, and they went into the kitchen.

  Mum stood at the sink, her back to the door. Angelo walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Anything we can do to help?”

  She shook her head and continued doing the washing up.

  “I could dry for you,” Rick suggested, picking up the tea towel from its hook beside the cutlery drawer. When she didn’t respond, he got right into the task anyway, taking plates from the rack and drying them.

  “Mum, what’s wrong?” Angelo asked in a quiet voice.

  “Wrong? Nothing is wrong,” she replied briskly.

  Patiently, Angelo placed his hand over hers and stilled it. He took the washing up brush from her and placed it in its receptacle next to the tap. Then he handed her the towel. “Dry your hands and come sit at the table.”

  Her blue eyes focused on his. “Angelo, please, just let me get on with—”

  Angelo shook his head. “I’m not listening, because it’s obvious something is wrong. And neither of us is leaving this kitchen until you tell us what’s going on.”

  Mum sighed heavily. “You are as stubborn as your father, do you know that?”

  Angelo flashed her a quick grin. “Breaking News. You’re as stubborn as Dad was, so it’s no surprise I inherited that particular trait.” He pulled out the chair and inclined his head toward it. “Now sit.”

  Mum raised her eyebrows and glanced at Rick. “Is he this bossy with you, too?”

  Rick laughed. “No, he’s worse.”

  She shook her head and sat in the chair. Both Angelo and Rick joined her, and Angelo reached across the table for her hand, enfolding it in both of his. “All right, Mum. We’re listening.”

  For a moment she said nothing, but simply stared at their clasped hands. Then Angelo’s heart sank when tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “No one is coming,” she whispered.

  Angelo’s chest ached. “What do you mean?” Across the table, Rick stared at her in obvious dismay.

  “I-I sent out all those invitations, and no one is coming.” She swallowed. “There will be no one at your wedding.”

  Angelo didn’t believe that for one second. “Have you got the list you made? Of all the family members you’ve invited?” She nodded gloomily. “Then would you get it for me, please? I’d like to see it.”

  Mum sniffed, got up from the table and left the kitchen.

  “No one?” Rick frowned. “That can’t be right?”

  Angelo heaved a sigh. “I’ll believe it when I see it. I think she’s blowing it all up out of all proportion myself, but let’s see.” He clammed up when Mum came back into the kitchen and handed him an A4 notepad. Angelo opened it up and glanced down the list. “You sent out one hundred invitations?”

  She nodded.

  “So we’re talking two hundred guests, if they all bring a plus one.”

  “No, we’re not,” she said huffily, “because they don’t want to come.”

  Angelo scanned the list. “Well, it says here that my cousin Paula and her husband are coming.”

  Rick’s face lit up. “Paula? Didn’t I meet her on our trip? She was nice.”

  Angelo nodded, his attention going back to the list. “Mum, you’ve noted about twenty replies here from people who have said they’re coming. I don’t understand. How is that no one?”

  From the pocket of her apron, she pulled out a bundle of envelopes, tied together with a ribbon. “These are some of the replies I received.”

  Angelo held out his hand. “Can I see them?” After a moment’s hesitation, she placed the bundle in his palm. Angelo opened up the first and scanned it. His Italian was very rusty, but he knew enough to get the gist: the words omosessuale and deviante were enough of a giveaway. Angelo placed them on the table. “Are they all like this one?”

  Mum shrugged, an affectation of nonchalance, but Angelo knew better. His mum was hurting. “Mostly, yes.”

  Rick was watching him, his brow furrowed.

  Angelo gave him a tight smile. “It’s pretty much as we knew it would be.”

  “Ah.” Rick took Mum’s hand. “Elena, this isn’t a surprise to us.”

  Her eyes flashed. “But it is to me.”

  Now Angelo got it. “Mum,” he said softly, “you expected a lot more people to come, didn’t you?” When she nodded, he picked up the towel and gently wiped away her tears. “I know twenty to forty people doesn’t sound like a lot, not when you’d invited a potential two hundred, but it really is okay.”

/>   She jerked her head up and gaped at him. “How can you say that?”

  Angelo searched for the right words, but he knew there was little chance of making her understand. “You’ve spent the last nine years getting to know your gay son. You accept me—us—for how we are. You don’t see being gay as anything wrong—do you?”

  Her mouth fell open. “No,” she said vehemently. “This is how God made you. I believe that now.”

  Angelo nodded. “But that’s not how the majority of people feel over there in Sicily. They think like Dad did, before he got to know me better. But like I said, you’ve had nine years to get used to the idea that you’re going to have a son-in-law instead of a daughter-in-law. You cannot expect the rest of the family to come to the same decision in five minutes flat.”

  “Then…” She studied the notepad in Angelo’s hands. “You think I should be pleased that these people are coming? Even though there are so few of them?”

  He nodded.

  “And there will be lots of people at the wedding who love us, Elena,” Rick added. “People who have been waiting to see us married. People who support us, as you do.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry.” He grinned. “People will come, Elena. People will come.”

  Angelo rolled his eyes.

  The kitchen door pushed open and Vincente stuck his head around it. “What does a man have to do around here to get some coffee? I’d hate to cross a desert with you two.” He chuckled. “Now stop gassing and put the coffee on.” With that he disappeared as promptly as he’d arrived.

  Mum heaved a heavy sigh. “How about he gets off his fat backside and makes the coffee himself, instead of sitting around waiting for someone else to do it for him, the lazy so-and-so?” she muttered.

  Angelo’s jaw dropped. Rick’s jaw dropped.

  Mum looked from Angelo to Rick, and shrugged. “Well? If you two can speak your minds, why shouldn’t I?” She nodded toward the door. “Besides, if he gets any fatter, he’s going to split his costume next Christmas.” She bit back a smile. “The seams are already straining.”