Oskar Blows a Gasket

by Claire Davis

  “How?” Oskar began to feel braver.

  “I dunno. Just more me but without all the sadness. Even when you’re in a mood, it makes me laugh and kind of happy because I know any minute you’ll be banging on my door. I mean, I know that now. I didn’t at the start.” He moaned loudly as Oskar’s exploration went further. “You like my body? Is it OK?” Oskar watched his chest arch up. It was fever and tender, and fierce feelings he had no names for.

  “Yeah,” Oskar said fervently, growing bolder. Gareth guided his hand back to his dick.

  “Come out from under that duvet. Why are you embarrassed?”

  “Not as gorgeous as you. I’m too thin, and—stupid-looking.”

  Gareth’s answer was to sit up and pull the covers away. “You’re not too anything, except maybe sometimes too contrary. Not that I mind, but I think you piss yourself off.”

  He stroked up and down Oskar’s jaw and neck. It was tantalising and almost too much. Oskar hung his head then threw it back and wriggled. He was already hard again.

  “That nice? Huh?”

  He wound himself around Gareth’s neck, and to avoid having to look into his eyes, he kissed, pushing hard so their bodies were close enough to rub together. He was horny again, but it was different to last time.

  “You’re beautiful. So beautiful.”

  Oskar knew the noises had begun again and they were as much about the words as physical touch. It was stupid and loud and whiny, but he couldn’t stop. Soon, their legs and arms were entwined as they thrust hard together. The orgasm was fierce and sudden; ending with him lying flat on top. For a while, they nuzzled closely.

  “You’ve addled my brain. I’ve gone all dopey,” he said finally. “What’s this about the stalker?”

  “Two minutes.” Gareth grinned and wriggled out from underneath. “Don’t move!” He slipped into a grey dressing gown and disappeared into the corridor. While he was gone, Oskar pondered what had happened.

  “Fuck,” he whispered ruefully. “Who’d have thought it?” He dived into Gareth’s pillow and inhaled the familiar scent. “What is up with me?” He hugged the pillow and was unable—completely unable—to stop the ridiculous and cheesy grin. “Look at you!” he chided, risking a quick peep in the mirror. His hair was a spiky sight and lips red. “You look well and truly shagged.”

  “Hey.” Gareth was carrying a tray. He sat back on the bed, smiling. The tray held a red flower in a cup, two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of pink wafers. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

  Oskar stuttered a bit, then gave up and grinned back silently. “Get back in. Where did you find that flower?”

  They settled against each other, drinking the hot choc. “Secret stash. So, about the stalker?”

  “We have his address.”

  “Yeah! Oskar, I think we ought to forget about him.”

  “We can’t, though. What about the presents?”

  Gareth shrugged. “I don’t know. But—” he spoke slowly “—if we knock on his door, we don’t know what we’re going to find. You know?”

  “Well, durr.” Oskar nudged him.

  “I mean—what if we find something we don’t want to? Something about our past? Or if not us then one of the girls? The last lot of parcels had things for them too.”

  “He sent them stuff?”

  “Yeah. Jewellery, chocolates.”

  “Even that bitch Stella?”

  Gareth kissed his shoulder. “She’s really not that bad. Look, all I’m saying is, are we sure we want to take the chance of messing things up? Things are good, Oskar.” He looked away. “For the first time in a long time. You know?”

  “You know who he is.” Suddenly it seemed obvious. “You’ve always known.”

  “No. Not for sure. How could I? At first, I thought maybe it was someone tied up with an old friend from school. His family were always trying to follow him—or so he said. But now, I know it isn’t anything to do with him. And anyway, he went to America. And I wonder—if it’s someone else. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time. I wish it was them! But if it’s not—I don’t know. Can’t we just leave it for a while? Maybe not forever. See if it resolves itself?”

  Gareth’s head sagged onto Oskar’s shoulder. “I think we both know that guy has something to do with you or me. And there’s a lot of things we keep hidden.” Oskar froze. “Oh, I don’t care what they are! Not at all. Fuck it! I just want you. I don’t care where you come from. I don’t care if you’ve killed someone, actually. But if it’s going to hurt you or stop me seeing you, then I’ll do anything to keep you from knocking on the door. Some things are best left.”

  “OK. But not for ever. I never killed anyone, though.” He turned to meet the kiss. “You keep stuff hidden?” Gareth never spoke about his past or family, and when the others did, he would leave the room or go so quiet everyone forgot he was there. “What stuff? I don’t know anything about you.”

  He felt his hair tugged. “You never wanted to, Mr. Contrary! A few times I tried, and you said whatever. I’ll tell you if you want. But are you sure you want to know?” Gareth kissed his shoulder again, and Oskar was sure he would never, ever, get tired of all the kisses. His neck tingled. “What if it changes how you think about me? Huh? What if I’m not the guy you think I am? We all came here and now we’re friends, but don’t you ever think—who are these people, really? Where do they come from?”

  “Yeah. That’s very true. Our pasts do not define us.” The flat at home wouldn’t be the same—almost four months since Oskar left at dawn clutching a backpack and small suitcase. The landlord would have taken a while to get notices to break in and remove his and Mum’s possessions.

  By now, another family could be living there. In his street, people would remember but already their names would have become part of the do you remember mob. Bear called him beautiful, but if he knew about Brinsted Gardens and all the rest, would he still think so?

  “I don’t care who that twat is,” he said fiercely. “Doesn’t matter to me. You’re Gareth and sometimes Bear, and you’re my boyfriend.” His head was spinning. “The world can fuck off.”

  “Exactly,” Gareth said. “Maybe we should leave it. Just for now. Unless that guy does something dangerous.”

  Oskar lifted the quilt and nodded meaningfully underneath. “In. Unfinished business.”

  “I love it when you’re bossy. Which is basically always.” Gareth put the tray on the floor and then dived back under the quilt.

  Chapter 15: Bad to the Bone

  Gareth

  Dear Dad,

  My back hurts so bad I can hardly stand! But guess what? I got paid! My first ever wage! I felt so good and so did John, even though he doesn’t really need the money as he has some kind of trust fund. I was happy, but then I remembered, I couldn’t call and tell you. I know that’s weird and I should be used to it by now. Guess I never give up.

  I don’t have much to tell you except work, work and work. We get up early and have breakfast then work for hours until lunch. By this time, I am so tired I could sleep on my feet but somehow I get through. It’s hard, Dad. A lot of the guys come from other countries and they laugh at me and John and call us rich kids. I laugh too, in a hollow kind of way.

  I miss you. I still miss you. Maybe I’ll never stop. John shouts every time I mention you. He says I have to move on now and that I can be very weak and immature. I guess I get on his nerves sometimes, just like I got on all the kids’ nerves at school. Same as I got on your nerves. It’s so hard to know what to say to please people sometimes. I wish I could hide under the bed and never come out. When I cry at night, I have to do it silently so I don’t annoy him more. At least I have my compass.

  Oh, one thing. Yesterday I saw this guy watching the farm. He tried not to be seen, but out here, it’s so remote there’s nowhere much to hide. I told John, and he got really scared, then some of the others got worried too as they are not here legally. I wished so hard it was you following.
I guess I know it isn’t. Tomorrow, we are moving on to another farm in case it’s his family stalking. He says we’ll move every few days, which is exhausting and makes me insecure. Nothing I can do, though.

  Dad, I still don’t get what happened to you. Was that bust-up really so bad? I can’t even remember now. Just a load of stuff that churns me up. Us arguing about you taking drugs and you springing school on me one day like that. Maybe I don’t remember the drugs properly? Maybe I was being over the top? You know, all I was worried for was you dying. Is that so bad? One thing I do remember clearly is you telling me to get the hell out of your life and stop getting in your business. Yeah.

  How can I forget you? I hate you a lot. It hurts me so much sometimes I wish I was dead. If my own dad can’t love me, no-one else ever will.

  I got my exam results this week. We had to call the exam board. They were OK. Not brilliant, but what did you expect? I got enough to start the foundation course. I hope the other students won’t think I’m dumb. John got top grades.

  Only a few weeks left now before John flies to the States and I get the train to Wales. Dad, this is gonna be my last letter. I get upset every time I write, and then I feel low and depressed. How am I ever going to make friends there if I’m feeling like that? In my heart, I know you’re alive and if you wanted you could probably find me easily. I don’t have an address yet at college, I’m not lying about that. I want you to know I love you, but you hurt me to the core. If you’re gonna do that again, maybe it’s best you don’t get in touch. But still, I am sure you could find me through the college. Or, you could come to the zoology department? I don’t know where that is yet, but you could get a map online of the college. Anyway.

  Just one last thing. I don’t know what I did that was so bad. I’m a useless lump of shit, but if you love someone, you should accept them, and whatever they do, try to be on their side. Even if they murder someone! Otherwise it’s not real love, is it? What kind of love is it that only wants you when you’re being what they think you ought to be, Dad? If I ever find someone to love me, I will never ever give up on them, Dad. I know I piss people off trying too hard. I’m not going to do that at college. I’ll just get on with my work. Maybe I can learn to be more loveable.

  It’s hard to end this letter. How do you say goodbye to your own daddy? I can’t.

  P.S.? It stands for post scriptum. That means afterwards.

  ****

  Oskar

  “Who’s done this?” Stella-Artois demanded. She waved the letter in the air menacingly, jerking it at the sofa where Gareth sat with Pink and the others. Cold eyes narrowed towards Oskar. He fought to keep a straight face.

  “What is it?” Pink asked. “Are you all right?”

  “No I’m not!” She opened the letter with controlled violence and began reading in an extremely poor attempt at a BBC accent:

  Dear Stella,

  Flower of my existence! Know that this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but it is with a sad heart I must end our relationship for I have found another. She is less mardy than you. Please return my gifts.

  Josh.

  P.S. Don’t bother begging me to go back. It will only harden my heart against you.

  Oskar breathed deeply and thought of serious things like fringes and elastic-waist trousers. He stared at her feet because if he so much as peeped, laughing would ensue. A trapped giggle involuntarily popped out. He clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “Well?” she demanded. “What have you got to say for yourselves?”

  “That’s terrible! Why would Josh dump you?” Pink stood up and tried to put an arm around Stella-Artois, but she pushed her off.

  “He wouldn’t! He loves me and wants us to marry. Didn’t you hear those letters I read, you idiot?”

  Pink shrank back. The room went silent and for a few seconds, everything froze.

  “Stella, why don’t you sit down?” Gareth stood up too and held out a hand. “That letter must’ve been such a shock. Come on, let me help you?”

  “Fuck off!” Stella-Artois screamed. “You’re all wankers! I know you lot sent it. Are you happy now?” She pushed Gareth hard and stalked off.

  “Bitch!” Oskar declared. “She’s crazy. Did she hurt you?” He leapt up. Gareth was bent double, groaning.

  “No,” he murmured. “She’s pretty angry, though. Someone should go see her.”

  Oskar fumed. “How dare she touch you. We should call the police and have her for GBH.” Later on, he’d get revenge. Although not proud of the laxatives, an essence lingered, of the satisfaction when he saw one of the boys running for the toilet at school.

  “No laxatives. Promise me?”

  “Poor Gareth! People are always shoving you about.”

  “I’m OK.” Gareth laughed. “Just took me by surprise.” But he looked shaky and upset. Once, in the college café, a girl had started a fight. Gareth had flinched and gone quiet. That and his initial shyness around the others were the lost jigsaw pieces of a puzzle. Oskar kissed his cheek tenderly and went into thought overdrive. Everything was adding up to child abuse, or youth prison. He inhaled sharply, remembering Gareth saying he’d had to share a room with other lads. “Pink, make us all tea,” he ordered, throwing her the bugger off a while look. She understood immediately.

  “Righto.”

  As soon as she’d gone, Oskar took Gareth’s face in his hands and peered into the brown eyes. “You OK?” he asked earnestly. “Was it a flashback?” Gareth brought his hands up to cover Oskar’s. “I know we agreed not to talk about our past, but you can tell me if you want to. If you’re traumatised. Were you in prison?”

  “What? No. Not prison. Hah-hah. I’m fine. It’s nothing.” But his eyes changed as he smiled, back to the Gareth Oskar understood. “I don’t mind you looking at me that way, though.”

  “What way?” Oskar looked right back into brown kindness that could so easily make him melt.

  “You know.” Gareth leaned forward until their noses bumped. “You know exactly what way.” He closed his eyes and kissed back softly. His lashes lay against his cheeks. Oskar shivered, wondering if they could go back to bed. It was unreasonable of his body to be so infatuated. “Was it you?” Gareth opened his eyes and bit Oskar’s nose gently. “Hmm? That letter?”

  Oskar blinked in surprise. “What?” He tried opening Gareth’s lips with his own to divert him. Suddenly Stella-Artois didn’t seem so funny.

  “It was, wasn’t it? Oskar!” Gareth pulled his hair. “One day you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. You know that?”

  “Yeah, been there. Done that one already.” The police had come round about the laxatives, looking through his things then having a serious talk about safety and pranks going wrong. Oskar had nodded and smiled sweetly, and got away with it. No-one had asked why, and so the question of those lads terrorising him and Mum for months on end had not arisen.

  “We have to go see her.”

  “No way.” Oskar looked away. Not that he was ashamed—wasn’t. She deserved it. Wasn’t. He waited for the lecture to start, which would no doubt end in him being dumped. He should have known it wouldn’t last, and anyway, he was too good for Gareth. Wasn’t really. His cheeks flooded. Stella had looked terrible when she left. Was.

  “We do. And you have to return all her letters.”

  “No.” He pouted in readiness. Hot breath went across his face. He peeped up to see Gareth laughing silently.

  “You’re such a nutter, you know that?”

  “She’s a bitch,” Oskar said sulkily. “I just got sick of her speaking to me like dirt.” He held himself tightly, waiting for the words. You’re dumped. This—this was why having a boyfriend was too much trouble.

  Gareth copied his pout, but his eyes twinkled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, and showing off about her poxy boyfriend and perfect family. Like I care about her dad, best friend and all that. So what if she has the ideal family and a home with a kitchen like on TV?” He hadn’
t meant to get so worked up. Red heat crept from underneath his top up to his neck and face. “I mean, what do I care about that?” His voice wobbled. “And calling me benefit scum. She actually wrote that on my door.”

  A sob escaped. He swallowed it back. If dumping was imminent, he would make sure Gareth went away with a heart and dick full of regrets. And then, when he came knocking, Oskar would tell him to get lost. He sobbed a little from all the conflicting mayhem.

  “Oh, Oskar.” Gareth wrapped him up and kissed his head. “I’m sorry she said all that. Why didn’t you tell me?” He brushed away the irritating tears. “What’s going on in your head?”

  “It’s you, making me like this! I never cry. Just get on and do it, will you?”

  “What are you talking about? Do what?” And Gareth was still looking that way, all sweet and nice and sexy as hell.

  “Dump me! I know you’re going to.”

  “OK, go back in time. Say that again?”

  Oskar shook his head. “No.”

  “Dump you? We only just got together.” Gareth pushed their faces close. “I’m crazy about you. Don’t you know that? It would take much more than a silly letter to change that.”

  “How much more?” Oskar asked, a while later. “Just so I’m clear?” He came up to find the room full of people watching.

  “Tea,” Pink nodded towards the cup. “You two are so cute, and this place is wicked. We’ve got a stalker, poison pen letters and testosterone love. D’ja know.”

  “How much more? Infinity. Thanks, Paula.” Gareth sipped, one hand still on Oskar’s knee. “And beyond.”

  “It is fairly exciting,” Carol HS admitted. “Every day’s a lottery here!” She adjusted her scarf with pursed lips. “But what I don’t get is how does she know Josh didn’t write that letter? The handwriting looked exactly the same.”

  Yeah. It looked the same because Oskar was a master forger. When he was a kid, Aunty Kath once bought a calligraphy set with different italic pens and nibs. He’d spent years perfecting the art of loops, which naturally led on to forgery and make-up art. He leaned against Gareth, dozing in the warmth of the room and the chattering.