by Drew Hunt
* * * *
Friday, Martin’s grocery delivery day, soon rolled around again. Martin wondered if Colin would want to stop for something to eat, dare he suggest it? He hated to think that he was monopolising Colin’s time. The man was busy, even more so at this time of year, Martin surmised that Colin would have far better things to do than spend time with him. However, this didn’t prevent him from preparing a larger than usual beef casserole.
I can always freeze the extra, he told himself.
He’d just dropped in a few dumplings when Colin came through the door.
“Bloody hell, the nation’s gone shopping mad,” Colin announced as he greeted Toby.
“Well, people are stocking up in case the Millennium bug hits.”
“Yeah, load of hype if you ask me. I’ve been round and round the town so many times today, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I hadn’t met myself coming in the opposite direction. Still, mustn’t grumble, it keeps me in work.”
The two then got down to the business of unpacking. Martin didn’t really need much; the extra food he’d bought the previous Saturday had seen to that, but he wanted to see Colin again, so he’d decided to order some things for his store cupboard.
“Have to go, mate. I’ve still got half a van full of stuff to drop off before I knock off tonight,” Colin said once he’d squared away all of Martin’s purchases.
Martin concealed his disappointment at Colin not being able to stay, comforting himself with the knowledge that he’d have the pleasure of his company for the majority of Christmas Day.
“Okay, I hope to have the dinner ready for about 1 o’clock a week on Saturday.”
“Great. You sure it’s still okay for me to come over?”
“Of course it is,” Martin said. You’d be more welcome than you’ll ever know.
“Better get off then, mate.” Colin patted Toby on the head and left the kitchen.
Martin had secretly hoped for another hug, the previous one had provided him with fuel for a week’s worth of night time fantasies of being lovingly restrained by the powerful, but gentle, stud. Although Martin couldn’t picture Colin in his mind, he imagined him to be fair-haired, blue eyed and devastatingly handsome. With a queue of women after him, no doubt, Martin told himself.
It was typical of Martin to fall in love with an idea, a dream, an unattainable goal. He knew that because Colin was out of his reach, it was safe to love him. Colin couldn’t hurt or reject him, because he would never know of Martin’s love for him. Martin could and frequently did construct ever more elaborate scenarios wherein Colin the caped crusader would rescue the weak and vulnerable Martin from a series of increasingly ridiculous mishaps.
Oh for fuck’s sake, Martin, snap out of it! he told himself, slapping the side of his head. He returned to his meal preparations.
* * * *
It was late on Christmas Eve and Martin couldn’t sleep. He had checklists running round in his head. He’d spent the whole day in pre-preparation. It took him much longer to prepare food than a sighted person. He realised he should have bought frozen vegetables, but he’d decided that fresh was better. The first thing on his agenda for the next morning would be to prepare the Brussels sprouts. Martin hated sprouts, little green packets of wind, but they were a traditional part of Christmas dinner, and Martin thought Colin would want the meal to be as traditional as possible.
Martin had taken advice from the retailer at the off-license on which bottle of wine would best go with roast turkey. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, and Colin wouldn’t be able to have much as he was driving. Though should he offer to put Colin up in the spare room overnight, so he could enjoy a drink? These and other thoughts kept running round in Martin’s head, eventually quietening sufficiently to allow him to doze off.
* * * *
The alarm woke Martin at 7 A.M. He needed to make an early start. After taking Toby for a quick walk round the block, Martin began his kitchen duties whilst listening to carols on the radio. Normally Martin would have put in a CD of non-Christmas music, but he really wanted to get into the spirit of the season, something he hadn’t felt like doing since his childhood. Martin tried hard not to build up too many expectations for the day; it would be impossible for the event to live up to them all as it was. But Martin was happy, happier than he’d been in years.
The Brussels sprouts had been rather tricky to prepare, Martin had ended up cutting himself a couple of times. Fortunately he’d had less trouble with the carrots and turnips.
The turkey was cooking nicely, Martin had just basted it, and the ten o’clock news had just come on when his phone rang.
Who on earth could that be? Martin rarely received any phone calls. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Oh, God, I hope it isn’t Colin ringing up to cancel. I don’t think I could cope with that. He wiped his hands, and walked into the front room, reaching the phone on its fifth ring. “Hello?” Martin said nervously.
“Hi Martin, it’s me, Colin.”
Oh no. Martin could feel his legs beginning to give way.
“You there, Martin?”
“Erm, yeah.” Martin began to steel himself for the bad news.
“Listen, I’m sorry…” The blood pumping in his ears prevented Martin from hearing much more.
Why, why, it’s not fair. It’s just too cruel.
“Martin? You sure you’re all right?” Colin’s concerned voice came over the phone. “Look I’m on my way now, love.”
“Huh?” Martin was confused.
“Martin, I’m on my way.” The line went dead.
* * * *
Colin got into his car and sped across town. Something was wrong, Martin sounded so distant somehow. He’d only rung up to confirm the time of the meal. He wanted to leave the house; Max and his girlfriend, were getting on his nerves with their endless billing and cooing. Colin needed to escape.
“Martin!” Colin shot through the back door, almost falling over Toby. “Out of the way, boy!” The first thing Colin saw on entering the kitchen was numerous red fingerprints all over the work surfaces. “God, no, he’s bleeding.”
* * * *
Colin’s voice brought Martin out of his funk; he’d been dazedly sitting on the sofa. He rose to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” they both asked at the same time.
Colin hugged Martin to him. “You sounded ill on the phone, and the blood, God, Martin, you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just thought you were ringing up to cancel today.” Martin fought hard to keep hold of his emotions.
“Cancel, why would I want to cancel?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting anyone to ring, no one ever does, and when,” Martin sniffed, “and when I heard your voice and you were saying that you were sorry, well, I, I…” Martin lost the battle, the dam broke.
“Hush, love. Please Martin, please it’s okay. I got your number out of the phonebook, I’d forgotten what time you wanted me to come over. There, there, it’s okay, love, I’m here. I’m here.” Colin wiped Martin’s eyes.
“Shit, shit, I’ve made a total prat of myself, haven’t I?”
“No, love. I’m sorry for frightening you. But you’ve been hurt, there are loads of bloody finger marks in the kitchen.” Colin lifted up Martin’s hands. “They look okay, just a few small nicks.”
“Sorry, I cut myself when I was doing the sprouts, I’m not used to handling them, cause I don’t like them myself.”
“No, me neither,” Colin said.
Martin started to giggle. “I ought to make you eat them all up for causing me all that trouble.”
“Sorry, but you never told me you were going to do sprouts. And what about me? When I saw the blood, I didn’t know what had happened to you, I thought you’d been hurt.”
“A right pair of twits, aren’t we?” Martin said, relaxing. It was okay. Everything was fine.
“Let me give you a hand in the kitchen.”
“It’s okay, I kno
w where everything is. And there isn’t much to do at the minute.”
“Well, I’ll wipe up the blood then.”
“There isn’t much, surely?”
“No, not really, I think with blood, a little seems to go a long way. I ought to put Band Aids on your cuts though.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, it’d be like wearing gloves, and I won’t be able to feel things properly.”
“Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought about that. Well, let’s run your hands under the tap, I don’t want the cuts to get infected.”
“It’s nice to be looked after,” Martin smiled.
Once he’d attended to Martin’s cuts, Colin moved to the side and did his best to stay out of Martin’s way. Martin appreciated the company.
“Wow, it’s great how well you manage, considering…uh, that…”
Martin laughed. “That I’m not able to see what I’m doing?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. “Look, this is how I chop stuff,” Martin said, reaching for a stick of celery.
He held the knife in his right hand, but used his left one over the top of the blade, with fingers spread.”
“The right hand does the cutting as usual, but the left hand does the seeing.”
“That’s really neat.”
Thinking he ought to lead the discussion away from blind culinary techniques, Martin said, “I thought we’d have poached salmon with a few prawns on a bed of salad as a starter.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Would you like a sauce with it?”
“Whatever you think is best, I don’t want you to go to any more trouble.”
“Don’t worry, it’s an easy sauce to make up.” Martin demonstrated his point by putting a few tablespoonfuls of mayonnaise into a bowl, adding a little tomato puree, a pinch of cayenne pepper and a couple of squeezes of lemon juice. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a teaspoon. “Here, have a taste, do you want a bit more bite to it?”
Colin sampled the mixture. “No, it’s fine as it is.”
“Okay, you can help with the next bit if you like.” Martin reached up into a wall cupboard and brought down two wide glass goblets. “There’s some pre-washed lettuce and cherry tomatoes in the fridge, can you get them out along with the salmon and prawns, and kind of arrange them in these bowls?” Martin pointed to the celery and other salad greens he’d prepared, asking Colin to incorporate them also.
“Food presentation isn’t really my strong suit,” Martin admitted.
“You’ve done great, Martin, you honestly have. I know even without tasting any of this that it’ll be much nicer than the meal I would have had with Max and Tracy. And the company is much better here, too.”
“Thanks, Colin,” Martin said, getting a lump in his throat.
Martin had pulled out his rarely used dining table, setting it in the middle of the front room. He and Colin laid the table with a starched white tablecloth and Martin’s best china.
“Erm, Martin, I’m not normally one for saying grace at mealtimes, but well, erm, I’d like to say a few words if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
The pair held hands over the table. “Lord,” Colin began. “We thank you for these the gifts of your bounty, we also give thanks for bringing together two friends to share this wonderful meal, so lovingly prepared. May you watch over and guide us in our efforts to serve you in our daily lives. Amen.”
“Amen,” Martin repeated softly.
The two began to eat.
“Martin, this is fantastic.”
“Thanks, it was fairly simple to put together really.”
“Well, I don’t think I could have done it,” Colin said. “I don’t remember you ordering any of this stuff from the supermarket.”
“I had it all delivered on your day off.”
“Why?”
“Oh, well it just kind of worked out that way,” Martin said, lowering his head and putting in another mouthful of food. His appetite wasn’t the best; he was still too keyed up about the rest of the meal coming off okay, to be able to enjoy himself.
* * * *
“I’m stuffed,” Colin said, pulling his chair back from the table. “Martin, that was a fantastic meal. All those little accompaniments made it so much better.”
“Thanks. Turkey is such a boring meat on its own, you need the stuffing, cranberry jelly and things to liven it up.”
“You did a fantastic job. I don’t think I could eat another thing.”
Martin smiled. “There’s a trifle in the fridge for afters.”
Colin groaned.
“Don’t worry, we can have it for tea if you like?” Martin didn’t know if Colin would want to stop that long, but he’d made the offer now, and it couldn’t be unmade.
“I don’t want to think about tea yet.”
“You can watch TV or something if you like.”
“Yeah, I like.”
Martin got up and switched on his portable TV. “Sorry it’s only a black and white set, with just me, it wasn’t worth buying a colour set.” Martin could have kicked himself for saying that. He was sure the tiny TV emphasised his boring existence to the man who would be used to huge widescreen TVs with surround sound.
Martin’s melancholy was pushed back when he felt Colin sit next to him on the sofa and put an arm around him.
“Thanks for a really great time, mate.”
Martin’s heart was beginning to swell. “Thanks for sharing the day with me, it made all the difference.” You’ll never know how much of a difference, he thought.
The two quieted as they watched the afternoon family movie. For the first time in a very long while, Martin had really enjoyed a TV programme. This was because Colin had patiently explained all the bits that he was unable to follow.
When the credits began to roll, Martin stood up. It was wonderful having Colin so near him, he could smell the manly scents of his guest, a combination of Old Spice, a little fabric conditioner from his clothes, as well as that indefinable smell of man. It was all a bit much for Martin to cope with.
“I might as well make a start on the clearing up.”
“No, let me do it, you’ve been on the go all day, and yesterday as well, I bet.”
“Thanks, but I know where everything goes.”
“Well I’ll wash, and you can dry and put away then.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
The two went into the kitchen and began the rather lengthy task of cleaning up. Martin thought how wonderful it was to have someone in the house to talk to, laugh with, snuggle and watch TV next to. A picture of domestic bliss, he thought.
Oh, stop it with the stupid romantic dreaming. Another voice in Martin’s head said.
“Toby’s at the door, will he want to go out?”
Martin looked at his watch. “Yeah, he likes to go for a walk about this time of day.”
“Can I come, too?” Colin asked.
Martin smiled. “Course you can.”
Toby grew excited when he spied his lead.
Martin explained to Colin that he’d just take Toby on the lead, leaving his harness at home. “I like to give him the odd day off from work. I can get about okay with the stick.”
The two put on warm coats to guard against the cold, and set out. Martin knew he wasn’t as able with his long cane, a fact that was brought home when his cane connected with a concrete bollard.
“Would it be easier if you took my arm?” Colin asked.
Martin was glad of the help. He folded up his cane, put it in his pocket, and took hold of Colin’s elbow. They walked the rest of the way to the playing fields, where Toby was let off the leash and went bounding away in search of adventure.
“He looks to be enjoying himself,” Colin observed.
“Yeah, he likes a free run. He’s often quite a serious dog, I think it does him good to lark about now and again.”
Colin picked up a stick and threw it for Toby, who duti
fully brought it back.
Martin realised how deeply satisfying it was to share such simple pleasures with someone. His earlier thoughts about domestic harmony tried to crowd in again, but Martin pushed them away.
As they walked, they talked about football. Martin, who possessed an excellent memory for detail, showed off shamelessly. Colin seemed impressed, so he didn’t feel too guilty.
Colin marvelled that Martin was interested in a game that he’d never seen.
Martin smiled. “I see your point. But actually I get a lot out of going to a football match, the smell and roar of the crowd, you know.” Martin didn’t add that it’d been years since he’d last been to a game. As with the theatre, the logistics of getting there and back, finding his seat, made it impractical.
Martin’s mood was dropping again, he tried to think of something upbeat to say, when…
“Well…if it isn’t my dear old brother, the poof. Oh and look, he’s got a little friend with him. How nice.”
“Bob!” Martin said, a cold chill running down his spine. Despite the fact that Bob was standing a few feet from them, Martin’s keen sense of smell was easily able to detect the Whisky fumes. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, I’m drunk.” Bob then gave a sinister laugh. “And, Martin, you’re queer, but I’ll be sober in the morning.”
Toby bounded up to them and began growling.
“Get that bloody mangy mutt away from me,” Bob snarled.
“Toby, here, boy,” Martin said. Toby immediately obeyed, but Martin could tell he kept a wary eye on Bob. “Come on, we’re going home now.”
Martin’s world was beginning to crash around him. Fortunately he was standing on the footpath that cut across the field. He knew if he remained on the path, it would take him back to the pavement. As he walked briskly back home, his cane swinging ahead of him, the wonderful feelings of sharing the holiday celebrations with a kind friend were now totally ruined. Someone who he’d hoped would have been a good friend to him now knew his deepest, darkest secret. As he walked, Martin battled to remain in control of his emotions. He didn’t want to break down in the middle of the street.
