Friends and Memories

by Alexi Wakefield

  After what seemed like hours his physiotherapist arrived; a serious looking man named Steve. Steve asked him to sit up and perform a range of movements with each limb. Francis complied meekly, not wanting to incur the wrath of Doctor Ellis but he got dizzy sitting up and his limbs were so weak that it was an effort to hold his arms up or even wriggle his toes. He could live with the weakness but what really got to him was that ever present feeling of disconnection: He could tell his arm to move and it would, but it felt like he was operating it by remote control. He watched dispassionately as his hand clenched and unclenched around a rubber ball Steve had put in his palm that felt like a lead weight.

  Steve ran through several exercises and left him a sheet of paper with instructions to run through all of them three times a day. It looked rather tedious so Francis put the sheet face down on the side table and counted the ceiling tiles again. Then someone came and took the toast away, leaving a jelly in its place. Francis looked at that for a while until George came in.

  “Still not eating?” George grunted as he sat down.

  Francis sighed.

  “You know you could make more of an effort. Ed’s worried sick about you.”

  I am making an effort, Francis thought. Just breathing is an effort. But he said, “What’s it got to do with Edward?”

  George folded his arms and scowled, so Francis went back to looking at the jelly for a while.

  Eventually George said, “Hey, I found a video of you on my phone. Well, it’s not of you, it’s of Ed, most of them are, but you're in the background in this one.” Francis lifted his head as George fished his phone out of his pocket and flicked at the screen. “Here it is,” George murmured and passed the phone over as he pressed play.

  Francis took it eagerly and used his bedcovers to support the phone's weight. The video looked like it was taken in a pub, three guys were performing a complicated looking dance routine on a table top to a cheesy pop song. One of them was Edward. There seemed to be some confusion as to which move came next, Edward was jumping up and down and the guy in the middle was doing a pelvic thrust. Then Edward moved his left hand onto his hips and the guy next to him did the same thing with his right hand. Their elbows knocked and Edward lost his balance, he wind-milled his arms comically and teetered before regaining it. Francis felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Their dance continued and Francis looked around for himself in the video. His eyes found a morose looking man with pale skin and black hair sitting in the corner. His chest tightened. The man was sipping at his drink and watching the fun dispassionately. “Is that...is that me?” He pointed with his finger.

  George moved forwards to check and confirmed, “Yep.”

  “I look miserable.”

  “No, that’s just you. You were alright. You just didn’t...” George shrugged.

  “Participate?”

  “Yeah that's it, you didn’t participate. But dancing to teen pop isn’t compulsory you know. Does it trigger any memories?”

  Francis watched the rest of the video and then replayed it. Unconcerned about memories for the moment, he desperately searched for some hint of emotion on the man’s face, but there was nothing, the person in the video was a robot; he twitched once but made no other expression.

  Was that all he had to look forward to if he recovered? He looked dead then and felt dead now. Maybe it wasn’t the coma, maybe he’d always been this way: Miserable and numb to everything. He pressed play again and held the phone up close, studying the pixels that made up the man’s face, desperately looking for any signs of a personality. Then he noticed his video self twitch again, and with his face this close to the screen saw video Francis open his mouth almost imperceptibly at the same time. It occurred at the exact moment that Edward nearly fell off the table.

  Francis flicked the video off and passed the phone back to George, then a thought hit him. “What about my phone?”

  “Oh, it’s in your cupboard.” George opened the bedside cupboard and rummaged until he produced a phone. He tried to switch it on. “Battery’s flat.” After further rummaging he produced a charger and plugged it in, placing the phone on top of the discarded physio instruction sheet.

  “Can you send me that video?” Francis asked. “Just in case I want to watch it later.”

  “Sure,” George said and flicked, swiped and flicked his screen. “It’s yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  George frowned at the top edge of his screen. “Look, I’ve gotta go now, I’m covering half of Ed’s shift, he’ll be here a bit later.” He got up and frowned. “Let him see you eating, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “Is that OK as in yes-George-I’ll-do-that?”

  “It is,” Francis muttered.

  “Good,” George nodded and left.

  Francis picked his phone up, leaving it attached to its electrical life line he switched it on, desperate to find out more about the life of the man in the video. He gripped it tightly as it booted up then impatiently swiped the screen… Only to be greeted with a request for a four digit passcode.

  He dropped the phone back onto the table and wept.

  Chapter Four

  Francis must have cried himself to sleep because he awoke to find Edward sitting next to him. “Hey,” Edward smiled.

  “Hey,” he greeted. “Do you know when my birthday is?”

  “Fourteenth of September,” Edward answered without pause. Francis grabbed his phone and tried 1409. No it wasn’t that, nor 0914. This was stupid, it could be anything. “What about George’s birthday?”

  Edward tilted his head a couple of different ways before saying, “Twenty-ninth of January.” Francis tried that but no joy. He was about to put the phone down when Edward said, “Mine’s twentieth of June.” Edward leaned forwards expectantly as Francis typed in 2006 and 0620 but they didn’t work either. Edward’s shoulders slumped. Then, almost instantly, he perked up again and dug around in his pockets. “I got us some sweets.” He opened a packet of small round chocolates and put them on Francis’s table, taking a couple for himself.

  Remembering his promise to George, Francis reached into the bag. He hooked one out between his fingers, lifted it into his mouth and waited for it to dissolve. It felt grainy on his tongue but was recognisable as chocolate. Edward gave him a broad smile that was out of all proportion to the achievement. Francis faked a smile back and Edward’s smile spread further, the corners of his eyes turning up.

  They ate the sweets together, Francis noting that each time Edward took some he didn’t go back for more until Francis had eaten a least one more himself.

  When Edward had gone, Francis had nothing to do but pick his phone up and try different combinations.

  1234. No. Well, at least it proved he hadn’t been stupid.

  4321. No.

  His own birthday backwards: No.

  George's birthday backwards: No.

  Edward’s birthday backwards…

  Something happened as he entered 6002; his thumb took over and moved easily over the numbers without him having to think about the movements so much.

  And the phone unlocked.

  Francis’s jaw dropped. Edward’s birthday? Or just a coincidence? Either way he was in. He clicked on the text message icon and looked through the messages. All work related; a disappointment but not a surprise. He scrolled back through the months to his birthday, wondering if there'd been a message from his father. No. There was a Happy Birthday from George, and Edward had sent him a ridiculous message with a dancing cat, smilies and an exploding birthday cake. That was all.

  No family in his rather short list of contacts either. Had they disapproved of him being gay? If that was the case, it was better not to try and get in contact and put himself through all that again. But then George had said he’d not had a partner in at least ten years. Had he fallen out with his family over being gay and then not even managed to find love? No wonder he looked so miserable.

  Francis pressed the photo icon next
, fully expecting the album, like his life, to be empty.

  He got a shock.

  The album contained hundreds of photos, most of them of Edward. If Edward wasn't the focal point of a photo he was in the background somewhere. Francis gasped and flicked through photo after photo. Edward wasn't looking at the camera in any of them and many were fuzzy, as if they’d been taken on full zoom: So he’d been secretly taking them while pretending to do something else with his phone?

  He felt sick. There had been something badly wrong with his other self. But despite his disgust, he kept thumbing through the album. He got to one of Edward wearing shorts and stopped. Edward had his back to the camera, his skin was tanned as if it was the end of summer. Francis looked at the curve of Edward’s spine and the muscles in the man’s shoulders and arms. He was startled when his cock stirred and put his phone down quickly, flicking it back onto lock as he did so.

  He stared down at the phone as if it had a mind of its own. What did all this mean? He’d clearly had a crush on Edward, maybe one that was verging on an obsession. So why had he never acted on his feelings when Edward had hinted at an attraction to him? Francis rubbed his forehead. Well, it wasn’t because things didn’t work down there; his penis hadn't got fully erect but seemed to be recovering faster than the rest of him. So why then? What had stopped him? Maybe he and Edward had tried and were just not suited to each other.

  Francis was assuming he could get fully erect. What if he couldn’t? He decided he needed to eliminate that possibility and picked up the phone again entering 6002 without thinking. He looked at Edward’s back, at the smoothness of his skin before lowering his eyes to the curve of buttocks through shorts. Edward’s thighs were nice to look at too. Before long Francis was rewarded with a full erection, and this at least felt like part of him. His arousal pulsed through his whole body and made him feel like he was actually alive for the first time since he’d woken up. He moved his hands down under his covers to try and satisfy himself but they still felt like someone else’s and he recoiled with a sharp jolt when he touched himself. He let his arousal subside in confusion.

  Later he had to use his pee bottle and felt the same sensation, horror mixed with a stab of dread, when he touched his cock. He wanted to cry again but had run out of tears by this point.

  The next day he endured the usual hospital admin on his body: Being washed which made his skin crawl, wound dressing changes which he tolerated, then physio which was only bearable if he didn’t think too much about it and let the disconnection between himself and his body bother him. It would get better, wouldn’t it? He asked Steve who said it would. Steve was unimpressed when he found that his sheet with the exercisers on had been placed face down under a phone. Francis resolved to make sure it was in plain sight for next time.

  He ate a few spoonful’s of various foods which all tasted of grey mush, and sipped at the high energy drinks they brought for him. Doctor Ellis seemed reasonably pleased with him and ticked some boxes on a sheet of paper. Francis rewarded himself with a nap and awoke to see Edward sitting next to him.

  “How long have you been here?” Francis asked.

  “Since twelve. That’s when lunchtime visiting hours start.” Edward winked and leaned in to whisper, “Well actually I was here at ten to, but they never say anything.”

  The breath tickled Francis’s ear which felt weird. “Don’t you have to work?”

  “Nope, day off. So I can stay until they chuck me out. Which they never do.”

  “You don’t need to stay. It must be dull watching me sleep.”

  Edward shook his head and his eyes softened. “You are beautiful when you're asleep, you know.”

  Francis felt himself blush, but decided to voice the question that had been bothering him, “Have we ever...slept together?”

  “No.” Edward’s shoulders slumped. “I would have done. Anytime. I’ve flirted with you ever since I first met you three years ago, but you’ve never shown any interest in me.” Francis frowned at his other self but Edward took it the wrong way. “Hey, you missed out big time, you know? I’m very good in bed.” He perked up again and smiled. “But I think you secretly enjoyed me flirting with you. And... and…” Edward’s face was triumphant. “I caught you staring at my ass. Twice. That’s two separate occasions, not once at each cheek.”

  Francis had to smile at this, even as he quizzed his other self over its behaviour. But his other self couldn't answer, couldn’t tell him why he’d repeatedly turned down such a kind and attractive man. And Edward was attractive, Francis hadn’t realised just how much until now, but Edward had responded to his faint smile with a broad one, the corners of his green eyes upturned as he radiated happiness. Under that animated face sat good bone structure but it was the way Edward’s mop of hair framed either side of his face that did more for Francis, he felt himself flush with desire and realised he had an erection. Edward’s eyes moved to it and Francis turned his head away in embarrassment.

  “Hey it’s OK,” Edward said and Francis felt a warm hand on the arm of his pyjamas. “It’s normal. Especially where my ass is concerned.”

  Francis bit his lip and tried to will his arousal away.

  “Sorry,” Edward sounded serious and rubbed his arm. Francis could tell the touch was meant as comforting but it didn’t help with his arousal. “Hey if you wanted me to, I could…” Edward was hesitant and awkward. “Help you, I mean, just as friends. For stress relief.”

  Francis squirmed. “Get out,” he found himself saying through clenched teeth.

  “Hey, it was just a thought, that’s all. I know I could make you feel good.”

  “Get out,” Francis repeated louder. He was breathing faster, on the verge of panic, and didn’t know why.

  “OK,” Edward muttered. “I’ll go and get us some chocolate to eat.”

  “You do that.”

  “I will,” Edward chirped and left.

  Francis closed his eyes and let his panic subside. Then wondered why he’d been so disturbed by Edward’s offer. What if it had made him feel good? Didn’t he deserve that? It made him queasy when he touched himself, what if he could connect with another person that way, even if he couldn't yet do so with himself. What if making that connection with someone else helped to bridge the gap between his own mind and body?

  He was angry with both his current and former self: What if, what if and what if. Was that how he’d always lived? Why hadn't he changed then and why couldn't he change now?

  Chapter Five

  Edward completed his lap of the hospital and brought two chocolate bars from the vending machine. It felt good to be buying bars for two people now, he just wished Francis was a little less prickly; he was like a human cactus sometimes. But Edward knew he should never have made his offer.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He was finding it hard to adjust to Francis being awake. All the while Francis had been in a coma Edward had wished desperately for him to wake up, but the time spent sitting by his bedside had allowed his mind to concoct all sorts of fantasy scenarios. But now of course Francis was just Francis, as he’d always been. Edward couldn't talk about anything and everything to him as he done during the coma, he had to scan his words carefully so as not to cause offence, something he wasn’t very good at.

  He hummed an upbeat tune to cheer himself up and took the bars into Francis’s room. Francis smiled at him which always made him feel special; a smile which was as beautiful and as rare as gold dust.

  “I’m really sorry,” Francis said as he took the chocolate.

  “It’s OK. I should never have said that. I know how you used to get if we talked about sex. Which was quite often actually.” Francis raised one of his neat eyebrows. “I mean, when George and I talked about sex.” Then Edward thought for a moment. “Well OK, It was mainly me who talked about sex.”

  Francis looked up at the ceiling and Edward scanned his features for the tiny wrinkles that signified offence or annoyance. But when F
rancis spoke he said slowly, “I’m sorry for my words. But I’m also sorry I didn’t take you up on your offer.”

  Edward gasped and clutched his heart. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Edward’s heart beat fast with nerves and excitement. “It wouldn't have to mean anything you know. Not unless you wanted it to?”

  “It can’t mean anything.” Francis turned to him. “Edward, I don't even know who I am at the moment so it can’t be any more than friendship.”

  But it could be? Edward’s insides went all mushy at the thought. But something was wrong, this wasn't like Francis. “Are you OK?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  Edward reached out and rested his hand on Francis’s arm. “Did you want to talk about it?”

  “I can’t, I just don’t have the words.”

  “Did you want me to, you know, now?” Edward indicated Francis’s groin with a finger.

  Francis breathed in sharply but said, “Yes.”

  Edward kept one hand on Francis's arm but leaned over to rub the covers with his other. He soon found the right place and rubbed affectionately until Francis was erect under them. Edward looked at Francis's face; his lips were parted and his pupils dilated, “You are so beautiful,” he breathed in Francis’s ear.

  “Thank you,” Francis said awkwardly.

  “Can I put my hand under the covers?”

  “Please.”

  Edward moved his hand slowly under the sheets and rubbed Francis's pyjama covered belly. It felt so good, soft and firm. Francis was breathing fast too. Excited, and with an erection in his own trousers, Edward tucked his hand under the waistband and brushed Francis's cock with his fingers.

  Francis screamed and yelled, “Get off! Get off of me!”

  Edward whipped his hand out and jumped up. “What? What did I do?”

  “Get out, get out, get out,” Francis was shouting at the top of his voice. A nurse came in from the corridor and looked at Edward as if he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t...,” he shook his head vigorously, “I didn’t, he wanted me to, I-”