Kicking Up My Heels...in Heels

by Liam Livings

  Tony pulled me from the bed and dumped me on the floor. “You’ve got to carry on. Carry on with your life. It’s the year 2000, not 1985.”

  “What’s there to get up and go for?”

  He leant forward sniffing me slightly. “A shower would be a good start.” Handing me a towel, he ushered me to the bathroom, turning the shower on and closing the door behind me. “Don’t make me undress you and put you in the shower.” He paused. “And scrub you clean. Cos don’t think I won’t do it.”

  I LEFT THE shower, cleaner and smelling like soap, rather than fusty body odour.

  Tony was in my room with a variety of clothes laid on my bed. “Wasn’t sure what you’d want to wear. Do you want to dress, or go casual?”

  I pursed my lips. The appeal of having my war paint, my armour as I liked to refer to my women’s clothes, was undeniable, but the thought of plastering it all on, and first shaving, and tottering about in heels was too much to handle, having not left my bed for a few days. I pointed to a simple green T-shirt and flared jeans combo on my bed.

  Tony held up a pair of very high platform trainers, like the Spice Girls had worn not long before. “These?”

  I shrugged and started dressing awkwardly with the towel.

  “I’ve been thinking about this. You said you couldn’t go to Bruce, or Out! again, but this is exactly what they’re for. This is the exact time you should be talking to Bruce, he’ll know the services to access, like the nurse said, what the next steps are. Love, he’s in his forties, what’s the betting he’s not lost a few friends during the eighties before they knew how to…look after people, not like it is now.”

  I pulled the T-shirt over my head and stood, dressed except for shoes. I sat on the bed, staring at the shoes Tony had picked for me.

  He knelt on the floor and helped them on my feet, tying the laces. He looked up and smiled at me.

  “No more slaps then?”

  “They’ve had the desired effect. You’re out of your pit.” He stood, brushed his hands together. “Next thing is to find your get up and go, but in the meantime, I’m here to kick you up the backside. Don’t think I’ll let you sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You, sure as Geri is your favourite Spice Girl, wouldn’t have let me do that, so why would I let you?”

  “I can’t face him. Not after this. Let’s go shopping. Let’s have a drink. Actually, that’s how come I’m in this mess. Let’s have a tea or coffee, go to one of the cafes in the market square.”

  “We can do all that. But first, we’re seeing Bruce, to see what he has to say. He won’t judge. You know that. It’s not in his DNA to judge. He’s all life is a journey and zen about life, so how can you expect him to suddenly change to being all finger wagging? And I bet, between you and me, he’s hardly been an angel all his life. You’re telling me he didn’t shag around when he was our age? No fucking way.”

  “I’m not telling him. You do it. I don’t think I could say the words without getting upset.” I quickly blinked away some tears.

  “I’ve got the letter.” He tapped his pocket. “Onwards, sweetie, onwards and upwards, it’s the only way to go.”

  “Yazz seemed to think it was up, but never mind.”

  Tony squeezed my shoulders and whispered in my ear, as we reached the top of the stairs, “It’s all going to be fine. We’ll work it out. Together. Remember. Exactly what you said to me, applies to you. What I’m going to do for you. Right.”

  I sighed deeply, feeling as if all the air from my body had been sucked out, leaving me crumpled, flat on the floor.

  Tony took care of Mum, saying we were nipping out for some bits, and some fresh air, and he’d already had the fluey bug that was going round, so not to worry about him catching it. “I’ll bring him back in one piece.” He waved us through the kitchen and out the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  BRUCE HAD BEEN out around town, doing outreach work—whatever that meant, I was sure I should know since I’d was now almost a youth worker and not a youth, but no, I didn’t—so he met us in a cafe off the market square in Salisbury. Amid the letters from the family planning clinic and starting to work with Ian, and worrying about Mum, I hadn’t got round to signing and returning the papers Bruce had sent me about the youth worker job. Not just yet.

  He kissed both of our cheeks as usual, which for some reason surprised me. Since reading the letter, I hadn’t wanted to see other people, never mind touch them, and I half expected people to avoid touching me, to hang an unclean sign round my neck. We made small talk as we ordered our drinks. Once the waitress left, there was a few moments’ silence.

  “Where’s the fire guys?” He looked at me. “What you gone and done this time, eh?”

  I turned away, staring out the window, blinking my eyes furiously to stop any tears leaving and rolling down my cheeks.

  Tony explained about his little mishap and how we’d gone together to the clinic, then leant forward and handed Bruce my crumpled letter.

  After reading it, he put the letter on the table, face down. “That’s it? They sent you a letter, no phone call, nothing?”

  “The nurse said we’d get a call or a letter, depending. I assumed if it was bad news, we’d get a call. I got a letter.” He pushed his fringe out of his eyes. “Negative. Simple short letter, no more.”

  I touched the letter on the table. “Thought it was a credit card.” I laughed slightly to myself. “Even with my crap spending, that would have been…”

  Bruce picked up the letter and reread it. “I still can’t believe this is how they told you. They should have called you, asked you in, told you face-to-face, offered you counselling, explained about the options for meds, the importance of regular check-ups and blood tests at the clinic to monitor it. Put together a care package for you, with you, a long-term plan of how to manage it. Because that’s what it is, now, a chronic manageable condition.” He put his hand on mine, squeezing it on the table.

  Our drinks arrived, and I expected Bruce to release my hand. He smiled at the waitress, continuing to hold my hand. “It’s my job. I’m gay for a living. Pretty good job eh!” He laughed at his little joke.

  The waitress left, not knowing what to say or do.

  I tried to laugh but couldn’t. It stuck halfway out of my throat. Instead, I sipped my tea and wished I could go back in time. A little tiny minor adjustment in the space-time continuum, for little old me.

  “First of all, I want to apologise on behalf of the family planning clinic, this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it’s done. They’ve only recently started doing these services for gay men. It used to be literally a family planning clinic only for pregnant teenagers, couples wanting to start a family, all that jazz. It took them years to agree the funding for this service. Anyway, you don’t need to know that. So, sorry for the fuck-up. I’ll get you booked in for a follow-up appointment, like you should have had, to tell you the results. See the right people, get you someone to talk about, an assigned consultant to work out your meds and other stuff, things to eat, not to eat, relationship stuff.”

  “That ship’s sailed, none today, and none tomorrow.” I pulled my hand from under his and clenched my fist in my lap. “I don’t ever want to have sex again.”

  Bruce looked at Tony who shook his head, then looked to me. “Do you honestly think you’re gonna feel like that forever? For the rest of your life, nothing, not a sniff, not a single other human being to interact with?”

  I shook my head. “Not after what happened. Nope.”

  “No point going into who’s to blame, who did what to who, what you should have said, and done, what he should have said and done. Look, we all make mistakes. I have. I was a right little goer when I was your age, and younger. At one point I was known as the gay bike of my home town, but we won’t go into why.”

  Tony’s eyes widened.

  “I was lucky. Like you’d been before. Only this time you weren’t lucky.” He lifted my hands from my lap and s
queezed them on the table. “You’ll talk to your counsellor about all this, and the nurse, but just cos I know you so well, and I don’t want you stewing about it, I’ll say it now. It’s not like it was when I was your age, in the eighties, it’s not a death sentence. People have been living with it for years, decades in some cases. The combination drugs do a great job. Crappy side effects mind, but that’s by the by. Life does go on. Your life will go on, Kev. Promise me you’ll carry on.”

  Tony flicked his fringe, moistened his index finger and smoothed his eyebrows, then said, “He knows that. I’m not gonna let him give up. I won’t put up for any moping about in bed bollocks. Oh no fear. If I need to, I’ll tell your mum you’ve got something, which means you need daily exercise, walks in the fresh air and lots and lots of fruit and veg. See how you react to that.”

  He would. I knew he would. And I also knew she’d lap it up, be there, on her supermarket trolley, filled with healthy food, dragging me out for a walk like a reluctant puppy. All in my best interests.

  “Or, you can do it the other way. We don’t tell your mum, you carry on with your life, work, everything, and go to the clinic, take the tablets, see the counsellor, whatever else they say, and life goes on.”

  Bruce nodded. “It does. Life goes on.”

  I shook my head. “But how? How can it go on? How am I expected to have relationships, sleep with other men, go on stage and sing my little heart out, when inside I’m ill, wrong, sick, damaged goods?”

  “Spot the drama queen.” Bruce shook his head, took a sip of his large cup of strong sweet milky coffee. “How I like my men: tall, strong, and full of creamy sweet goodness.”

  “You’re meant to be setting an example. You’re meant to be the youth group leader, not laughing at camp quips like this in a cafe.” I slapped his arm playfully.

  “You’re going to be my right-hand man, at the group.”

  “Still, you still want me, even after this?” I hadn’t even looked at the paperwork, never mind posted it back to him.

  “Why not. Far as I’m concerned once I have your paperwork you’re starting in a few weeks.”

  “It’s in the post,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

  “Life goes on. I’ve got a friend who’s positive, and he’s still working, dating, shagging. That’s the thing about life, it has this habit of going on, all around us, and we need to grab onto the handle and carry on with the ride. It’s a bump in the ride, it’s not the end of the circus, the end of the ride. Carry on with the ride, one hour at a time, then one day, then one week. That’s all you can do with life, and this is not different. Did you give up when your dad chucked you out? Did you give up after all those useless boyfriends did the dirty on you?”

  “Hang on a minute, they weren’t all useless.”

  Tony jumped in, “Well, I’m afraid I beg to differ, love.”

  “What about Ian? He’s left me a few messages. I cancelled some shows. He’s said he’d look after me, but now this happens.”

  Bruce said I should get back on that horse and ride it again. Explained I should sing, dance, perform, dress up, do everything I normally did. “Use the what you feel in your work, it’s what other artists do, why shouldn’t you?”

  “I feel numb.” I started to rip up a napkin.

  “I slapped him,” Tony said with pursed lips and a slight shudder.

  “Well done,” Bruce said. “Bet you felt that, didn’t you?”

  Still ripping the napkin into pieces, knowing I was being a drama queen, but wanting to make a slightly stroppy point, I said, “Assault. That’s what it was, common assault.”

  Tony cuffed me gently round the head. “I can assure you, there is nothing common about me whatsoever.” Another little shudder and he flicked his fringe back in one smooth movement.

  Bruce said to Tony, “You, look after him.” He turned to me. “And you, let him. Life goes on. I’ll be in touch with that appointment. Look, I’ve gotta shoot off.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll get these; you can buy me a drink after your first Out! as an official youth worker—part-time. Oh, and by the way, someone is going to get seriously bollocked about your letter. I’m gonna cause such a shit storm they won’t know what’s hit them.” With a wink and a smile, and he was gone.

  Tony and I talked for a while, got another drink, chatting among the noise of the other people. I remembered Bruce saying years before, when he’d done the first safe sex lesson I’d gone to at Out! how he’d lost friends in the eighties.

  Tony pointed out that had been in the eighties, “Fifteen years ago. It’s not the same anymore. He said so, didn’t he?”

  And I shrugged, put the shredded napkin on the table, about to grab another and repeat the process, and I thought what a waste of energy, how pointless, why would I do that? Which led me to think why would I go round and round in circles about what I’d done, why, what he’d done, and why, wasting my energy. This wasn’t the person I was. This wasn’t the person who let adversity in all its many shapes and forms get the better of me, make me want to lie down and allow it to trample me underfoot. I was Kev, hear me roar. I had the Plan 2000 and I was going to use it, with some help from Ian of course.

  Tony tapped my hand, breaking me out of my deep thoughts. “Penny for ’em love?”

  I blinked hard, determined not to cry again, not today at any rate. “Whose penny?”

  “What you thinking?”

  “I’m not going to cry anymore, not today at least.”

  “Sounds like a good start, love.” Tony looked around, the crowds had left and we were one of only a couple of tables of people. “Don’t make me slap you again.”

  “And that I should call Ian, tell him what’s going on. Or at least, that I’m back, and I’m sorry.”

  “That sounds pretty sensible too.”

  “Tony?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Am I gonna be all right, really?”

  “You will be. I know it.” Tony squeezed my hand as it rested on the table.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AS WE ARRIVED home, Mum asked Tony, “What’s wrong with him? Has he split up from who was he seeing again?”

  Tony shook his head. “The flu, it’s come back.” He held his hand to his chest and ushered me up the stairs in reverential silence.

  I paused at the bottom of the stairs out of sight but not out of earshot.

  Mum continued, “Flu? Don’t make me laugh. You must think I’m bloody stupid. What’s up with him? Tell me, love. He’s my son.”

  Tony said nothing.

  But something in his eyes, something in how he’d not said anything must have tipped Mum off, cos the next thing she said was, “Oh no! It’s, isn’t it? My poor baby. He’s got it.” followed by crying and rushing around the kitchen, banging and clattering pots and pans.

  So, bang went the whole not telling Mum idea. I walked back into the kitchen.

  She ran up to me, hugged me, tight to her chest, enveloping me in her lavender and bleach smell, then pulled back and slapped me. “What you bin up to? Who you bin hanging about with, love. Who’s done this to you? Oh my goodness, he always said this would happen. First thing your dad said. And here we are, it’s come true.” She walked quickly, pacing up and down the floor, knocking mugs off the work surface, ignoring them as they smashed on the floor. She opened the cutlery drawer and started throwing knives, forks, and spoons back over her shoulder. They flew through the air, landing on the floor.

  I moved out of their line of fire.

  Tony walked behind her and held her arms still.

  She stopped with the knife throwing, turned to face me, her hand covering her mouth, her bottom lip quivering, her face covered in tears. “Who’s done this? I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll track him down and kill him.” Then, out of breath, unable to say any more, she dissolved into tears and breathless cries.

  We both stood, not knowing whether to approach her or stand well back.

  After a few moments, she broke th
e silence. “I wish your dad was here. He’d know what to do.”

  I spat on the floor. “What do we need him for, eh? He’d make it worse.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Well, he’s not here, is he? He’s gone, fucked off and left us for the second time. Couldn’t handle me and didn’t want to be with you. So, how’s that for knowing what to do?” I spat the last bit out, staring straight at her tear-stained face.

  The room was silent except for her quiet sobbing.

  “What’dya have to go and tell her for, eh?” I spat at Tony.

  “Excuse me, love, I didn’t tell her anything. She just worked it out. I didn’t say a single word.”

  “Didn’t have to, she could read it on your stupid face.” Another venomous comment spat from my mouth. I was really firing on all four whatsits in the car now. Spitting at everyone else like a snake.

  Mum interrupted, her palms facing both of us. “Come on, no need for that. He said nothing. His face said nothing. I knew.”

  “How’d you know? Because he bloody said something, he must’ve.” I pointed to Tony.

  Tony put his hands on his hips and was about to say something when Mum interrupted. “This isn’t helping anyone. Look at us, ripping bits out of each other. This isn’t us at all.” She paused, caught her breath, composed herself as best she could with a little tissue tucked up her sleeve, wiping her face. “I knew, because I wasn’t born yesterday. All right.” She stared at me. Now, let’s sit down, have a cuppa tea, and talk about what’s gone on, like normal civil human beings, not like bloody animals ripping chunks out of each other. All right?”

  We both nodded.

  A VERY QUIET few minutes later, we sat at the kitchen table, a pot of tea brewing and Mum asked us to start at the beginning and tell her what had happened.

  I didn’t want to go into the details of who’d done what to who, so I glossed over that and said I’d got drunk and hadn’t taken care of things.