by A Zukowski
darkness fills him.
No one will ever be able to understand the
nightmares Alex lives through again and again, and
how they eat him up, turn him inside out. The
explosive impact of the two vehicles and the
screams of those badly hurt vibrate long into the
night. Blood, so much blood, cradling Sam’s lifeless
body while waiting for the ambulance.
It’s for the better that he doesn’t get involved with
Chris. Alex is hardly a prize. Anyone who has a
relationship with him will have to deal with his
depression and guilt for years to come.
He finds his phone and texts his boss, feigning
illness. I’ve got the flu. Sorry. He sinks down under
the cover. He may have slept, but more often than
not, he gazes at the stains on the walls.
~~~
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Chris has come back from an appointment. He
has a quick shower and puts a frozen pizza in the
oven. He glances at Alex’s closed door and wonders
if he’ll want to have dinner with him.
Stop. Surely he can’t give in and allow himself to
get close to Alex again. Alex will find out what a
despicable person Chris is. They won’t even stay
friends and that will be a real tragedy. He
remembers the look on Alex’s face as he left: the
downturn of his mouth and the deep groove
between his brows.
A justification for his concerns.
How long has it been since that early morning
kiss and his rejection of Alex? Two days? Three?
Chris turns around and sees white as if someone has
hit the side of his head, and he suffers a whiplash.
His resolve not to care about Alex disappears.
He intercepts Alberto as he walks past on his way
out. “Hey, have you seen Alex?”
The Italian raises an eyebrow. “No. What’s up?
You should know. He’s your boyfriend.”
Chris narrows his eyes. “No, he’s not…oh, never
mind. Thanks.”
Alberto shrugs and continues on. Chris considers
Alex’s door and knocks on it. If Alex has the same
shift this week, he should be at work. No answer. He
texts Alex to see if he’ll reply, and then takes the
disgusting readymade pizza out of the oven. Guess
Alex is not missing much.
As he tucks into a slice, Alex’s door opens and the
man himself emerges. Chris’s hand freezes in mid-
air, his mouth open.
“Why are you texting me when I’m right here?”
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Alex asks.
He’s wearing a faded T-shirt and boxers, his hair
a great big mess. Alex’s unshaven face tells Chris he
has holed up in his room for three solid days since
Chris refused him. Alex folds his arms in front of his
chest and frowns.
Chris stares at Alex’s bloodshot eyes, at the grief
and sadness. His dinner completely forgotten, he
reaches up to him and hugs the big man, but Alex
stands there in stony silence.
“Why didn’t you answer your door, then?”
Chris sees the state of Alex’s room now. It has
been turned upside down: a chair has been broken,
the slats scattered on the floor, and clothes and
bedding strewn around. Alex smells of stale sweat
and musk.
Is this his fault? All his fears and confusion
dissipating, Chris only wants to help Alex, to
embrace him and take all his sadness away. It won’t
matter if Alex hurts him in the long run.
This time Alex pushes him away. “No. Don’t.”
Chris steps back a foot and gazes at Alex.
“Don’t touch me and be nice to me.” Alex’s voice
is low as a forbidden whisper. “Don’t make me fall
in love with you and then tell me to fuck off.”
Chris takes a deep breath. He sinks down into the
chair, his body heavy as if he’s weighted down by
the effect he has on Alex.
They are a fucking disaster waiting to happen.
“You scare me because you’re saying you love me.
I’m doomed to fail and then I’ll be hurt, and you’ll
be pissed off too. And fuck knows you’re a big mess
already.”
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“I know I’m a mess…but why will we fail? I mean,
I won’t hurt you, not if I can help it.” Alex’s eyes
shift to far away.
“How can you promise me that? How can anyone
say that?”
Chris runs back to his room and buries his head
in his hands. Despite his best efforts to hold back,
he starts sobbing, thinking about all these people
who have promised him the moon and then
deserted him when it suited them. He remembers
one of his ex-lovers called him emotionally stunted.
Well, fuck off, then. And that’s what all of them have
done.
Alex pushes the door open and stands so Chris
can see his legs, thick and solid. When he gazes up,
Alex’s face is distorted, masked by a kind of anguish
familiar to him. Alex kneels down and hugs Chris,
but Chris fights him, trying to get away from the
contact. Alex grips Chris’s wrists to stop him from
struggling.
Chris stills, letting Alex hold him. “I missed you,
you stupid fuck,” Chris admits. His tears keep
falling. Big fat ugly tears of frustration and anger.
Yeah, a pair of idiots. A giant, tattooed ex-boxer
and a hardened escort who shouldn’t be like this.
Chris is not crying for Alex or himself, though. He’s
mourning in acknowledgement of the things he was
deprived of, a lost childhood, unconditional love.
Whatever he lacks is unknown and frightening. The
man in front of him makes him want things that are
the most terrifying of all.
“Missed you too. Couldn’t sleep cuz you weren’t
next to me,” Alex replies.
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Chris looks up and smiles through his tears. “You
keep saying that. Get a hot-water bottle already. You
know this will come to no good, right?”
“Maybe we’re worth the risk, Chris. You are
definitely worth all the heartaches in the world.”
Alex hugs Chris tightly and lets him cry himself dry.
Cradle.
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CHAPTER 10
RAINBOW
THE RINGING WAKES them up in the middle of the
night. Chris retrieves her mobile from the bedside
table. She rubs her eyes and presses speak. “Hello?”
… “Yes, I am.” … “What’s wrong with her?” Chris’s
brows draw close with irritation. “Which hospital is
it?” She promises to be there as soon as she can and
clicks off.
“All right? Who’s in the hospital?” Alex moves
closer.
Chris gets up to locate clean clothes. “Who could
it be? Her Majesty Annette, of course. They
wouldn’t tell me much over the phone, just that
she’s not in danger now.”
Alex follows Chris and gets dressed. “I’m coming
with you.”
Chris no
ds. “Okay. Thanks.”
~~~
Without the make-up and the latest revealing
clothes, Annette’s more herself. Chris hasn’t seen
her like this for years. Her natural beauty shines
through despite the circumstances, and she seems
younger, so much so she could claim to be Chris’s
older sister.
Chris goes around the bed to help Annette as she
tries to sit up. A small, reluctant smile appears on
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her face. Her eyes land on Alex, who’s standing a
foot behind Chris.
“Hey, Chris. Alex.” Her voice is rough. “My throat
hurts from the tube.”
“What tube—”
A white-coat comes in, surveys the room and
guesses the relationships between those present
correctly.
“I’m Dr. Philips. Are you Ms. Neeser’s son? Mr.
Neeser?” He holds out his hand to shake Chris’s.
Chris nods. “Please, call me Chris. This is my
friend, Alex.” The doctor acknowledges the other
visitor.
“Ms. Neeser, do you want me to speak to Chris
about what happened?”
Her eyes glisten. She answers with a voice so
small and vulnerable it may break Chris’s heart if it
hasn’t already been broken too many times. “Yes,
please. Chris, I’m sorry.”
Dr. Philips delivers his spiel about alcohol
poisoning and whatnot. Chris already guessed most
of it. Annette binged and became violently ill,
vomiting blood, among other things. In her
delirium, she also took painkillers and other drugs,
and couldn’t quite remember what and how much.
Her latest boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.
“We gave her a gastric lavage, otherwise known as
a stomach pump. It’s not as bad as it sounds. The
procedure’s not as intrusive as it used to be. Have
you any questions?” He addresses Chris.
“When will she be discharged?”
“She should be all right to leave in the morning,
in a few hours after another check-up.” The doctor
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turns to Annette. “I’ll ask the nurse to talk to you
about alcohol and drug use before you go.”
Annette nods again, her shoulders hunched. Her
effort to smile is strained by embarrassment.
Dr. Philips departs, leaving Chris and Alex to
stand awkwardly for a couple of minutes.
Annette watches them. “Are you two seeing each
other?”
Chris and Alex’s eyes meet. Chris would like to
shout about their budding relationship, but she
doesn’t owe Annette an explanation. “It’s none of
your business. You’ve done enough to fuck up my
life as it is.”
Annette shifts in her bed and offers another timid
smile. “I’m sorry. I hope you find happiness, Chris,
and Alex seems like a good man.”
It’s the first sensible thing she’s said to Chris in
years, and yet, Chris can’t let go of the angry fire in
her heart. “I don’t rely on you for my happiness, so
that’s something. And you wouldn’t know a good
man if he hit you in the face. Hell, that’s
contradictory in terms.”
Annette’s face dims. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”
“I’m not going to be hurt by you anymore. Don’t
worry about it.” She schools her face to hide the
emotions threatening to surface.
Annette looks pale and grief-stricken. For once,
she is not acting.
“Jimmy left. For good.” She swallows. “I’m going
to sort myself out. You may not believe it, but I will
stop drinking and go to AA.”
“You say that every time some dude dumps you.”
Chris can’t help but disapprove.
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“I know. I know. Let me prove it to you this time.”
Annette gazes at Chris and Alex again. “You’ll do
better than me, Chris. I know you will… I’m very
tired. Thank you for coming, you two. I’ll be all
right. I’ll let you know when I get home tomorrow.”
“Shall I come back to help you? You can text me,”
Chris grudgingly offers.
Annette shakes her head. “I can manage a taxi.
You head back and get some sleep. I told them not
to call you in the middle of the night. It’s not like
I’m dying or anything.”
Annette is dismissing them, so Chris and Alex bid
farewell. Once they’re outside of the hospital, they
seek out the taxi queue and climb into one. Alex
takes Chris’s hand in his large palm and holds onto
her tightly all the way home. Through the window,
Chris watches the hazy orange sun appearing on the
horizon. Is it what hope looks like? Does it always
struggle to shine through the clouds? She closes her
eyes to concentrate on the safe sensation of Alex’s
skin.
Once back in their flat, Alex pulls Chris into an
embrace. “Let’s go back to bed.”
They seem to be spending more and more nights
like this, lying in Chris’s bed, chatting and getting to
know each other. Alex plays with Chris’s soft hair.
“What are we doing, Chris?”
“I honestly don’t know. I like being with you, but I
don’t know how to be happy, how to make someone
else happy. You heard my mum. You know what’s
wrong with me, don’t you? So, are you interested?”
“Am I interested? Chris, I’m totally into you.
There’s nothing wrong with you. We must be two
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wrongs, and they seem to make this feel right.” He
leans forward and kisses Chris. She doesn’t want it
to end this time.
When they eventually pull apart, tears prick at the
back of Chris’s eyes. “Annette’s first sensible thing
to say to me was about you being a good man.”
Alex laughs, but it’s a bitter kind. “I tried to be a
decent man. To be a good boxer, a responsible son.
An honourable husband to Sam…but see what
happened.” He sighs. “You don’t seem to realise I’ve
killed, and in the eyes of most people, that’s
definitely pretty evil.”
Chris kisses Alex’s forehead. “You did a terrible
thing, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. What
am I even talking about? I don’t believe in good and
evil.”
Alex’s smile returns. “Good or bad, I think you’re
great.”
Chris actually feels shy when she’s the centre of
Alex’s attention. Alex is the first in so many ways.
When was the last time she felt nervous in the
company of another? “Still, don’t think I’m going to
put out just because you said that.”
“What?” Alex chuckles. “You honestly think I’m
only nice to you so we can have sex?”
Chris smiles through a paradox of sadness and
happiness. “Don’t forget I’ve been programmed to
distrust everybody.”
Alex is still grinning. “I’ll wait for you to beg me.”
“Oh, fuck you! I will never do
that!” Chris pushes
him in jest. “Don’t you think it’ll be strange? Have
you slept with someone like me before?”
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Chris.”
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Chris giggles. “I have a penis.”
“What’s your point?” Alex frowns.
“Have you thought about your sexuality?”
Alex nods. “I was attracted to some men but I
didn’t dare do anything about it. It wouldn’t be
acceptable to my family or in the boxing world,
y’know? Then, I married Sam who was my first
girlfriend, and I thought any gay feelings would go
away.” He dry laughs. “So, yes, I have been thinking
about it since I first met you. I’m nervous but I want
you sexually, yes.”
Chris takes Alex’s hand and puts it over her own
heart. “Well, you never stop being who you are. I’m
bi and queer. When I sleep with a woman, I’m not
straight, like when I fuck a man, I’m not gay.”
“I think you’re one of a kind.” Alex grins.
“I doubt it.” Chris places their joined hands over
Alex’s heart. “Unlike you, Alex Whale.”
“If you say so. We should sleep. Why do we
always do this? Talking till the crack of dawn.”
“We’ve got stuff to talk about. That’s why.”
Alex rubs his stubble on Chris’s cheek, prickling
him. “I think it’s a good thing.”
“Hmm.” Chris is almost too sleepy to talk.
“And Chris?”
“Hmm.” She’s dropping off.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
Her heart is thumping so fast she’s afraid Alex
can hear it. She almost gives in and tells Alex she
loves him too, before a lifetime of habit stops her
from showing the one true emotion she has lately.
She hates herself for being scared by the uncertainty
of wanting a relationship.
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“Good,” she mumbles instead.
Alex’s smile illuminates the little dusky bubble
around them.
~~~
Coupling.
Alex asked Chris out, to go on a proper date. He
wanted Chris to decide what to do—Alex says he
hasn’t dated since he and Sam were twenty—so
Chris has come to Liam and Ali’s house for tea and a
bit of advice.
Chris’s old flatmate Liam moved in with Ali,
which was marvellous for Liam, and because he
showed Chris there might be light at the end of a
dark tunnel—a place she’s been her entire life,
wading against the tide and never reaching the end.
“I have no clue, either,” she says. “I know places
