Handle With Care

by Josephine Myles

  “I just want to see you get better,” she said, her arm snaking around my waist.

  “Yeah, I know. Me too.” I sighed and rested my chin on her head. I didn’t deserve her and I knew it, but I was doing my best to try and be worthy of all that love. I looked down at her and the sensation of my unruly hair flopping down over my forehead reminded me of my resolution to do something about it.

  “Hey, Zo, would you mind giving me a quick haircut before you leave? I’ve still got the clippers.”

  “What? And ruin that glorious mullet?” Zoe grinned mischievously. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  14

  Chapter Two

  Three hours after Zoe had left, I hooked up the catheter tube in my belly to an empty bag and started to drain out all the waste dialysis fluid. I’d infused a dialysate bag not long before she’d turned up, so I had to wait for it to diffuse before opening the parcel. It might sound silly, but I had problems getting it up with all the dialysate fluid inside me. I’d look down and see my bloated abdomen and that bloody tube sticking out of me, and any trace of arousal just evaporated. I’d just start thinking about how the fluid was sloshing around inside my peritoneal cavity, getting more and more toxic as it leached all the waste products out of my blood.

  In some ways, I’d have preferred to stay on the haemodialysis, which was only three hospital visits a week, but what with the diabetes, it didn’t work so well for me. I felt terrible most of the time and kept having crashes. Peritoneal dialysis was better at keeping my blood sugar level, even if it could be a hassle having to infuse and drain four bags a day.

  As the fluid drained out, taking all those toxins with it, I ripped open the cardboard wrapper and pulled out the latest acquisition to my library. I was getting quite a collection. Like I said, I had to get the variety somehow, didn’t I?

  This one promised plenty of XXX action in the jungle, with a bunch of crew-cut, war-painted hunks. The jungle looked suspiciously like a Beverly Hills landscaped garden, but I wasn’t about to split hairs over the accuracy of a porn set. Let’s face it, no one really cared about the background, right? It was like those old Star Trek sets—you ignored the polystyrene boulders and painted sky to concentrate on watching Kirk pace around like a caged tiger. Well, I always had, anyway. The man even managed to make those awful uniforms look sexy.

  A bit like a certain delivery courier I could think of.

  That odd little sucking sensation I got when the bag was full pulled me back into the present. After I’d unplugged and chucked the sealed bag in the medical waste bin, I took another look at the DVD case. Nope, it just didn’t appeal to me at that moment. Seeing those porn stars impersonating soldiers, all I could think about was my new military-style haircut. I ran a hand over my shorn head.

  Would Ollie even notice it? And if he did, what would he think?

  I decided to fill myself up with the next bag and commit to another four hours of looking like a beach ball. I had a conference call due in a couple of hours, but so long as I put on a decent shirt and angled the webcam right, no one could tell I looked any different from how I used to. Except the hair, of course.

  My boss would probably like that, though.

  Turned out he did.

  “Afternoon, Ben. You’re looking well.”

  I plastered on a smile. James would never be able to tell how forced it was over the screen. “Feeling great, James. How’s the family?”

  The family were perfect, as ever. I smiled and nodded and tried to look interested, though, because his kids were cute. The youngest daughter reminded me of Zoe when she was little.

  James Littlejohn led a kind of charmed life, it seemed. He’d used his trust fund to set up a financial services software company straight out of business school, and despite not having much computer savvy, he’d surrounded himself with those who had the necessary skills. What’s more, he’d managed to keep most of them on with his generous contracts. I certainly wasn’t about to argue 16

  with my deal, as despite having a serious health condition, I was able to work from home with only a very small slice off my old salary.

  “And how’s your health?” James asked.

  “Oh, can’t complain.”

  “I don’t suppose we can ever tempt you back to the workplace? The engineer we’ve got in now isn’t a patch on you. My computer’s slowed right down.”

  I gave a wry grin. “Much as I’d love to help you out, it’s not easy while I’m on this dialysis. Believe me, you wouldn’t want all my medical equipment littering the break room. I know how you felt when Tamara had her breast-milk pump in there.” The look on his face when he’d walked in on her had been priceless. Her expressing milk while I’d been on a break hadn’t bothered me, but then again, at the time I’d been in the middle of seeing Zoe through puberty and having to talk with her about periods and safe sex. I think my embarrassment about female matters had long since been overcome.

  “No, no, of course. I was forgetting about that.” James looked flustered, and I took pity on him.

  “When I get a transplant, I’ll be right back there, I promise.” I said when, not if, because James didn’t need to know the real situation with waiting lists, did he?

  It was true, I would have loved to have gone back and resumed tinkering with the computers and not just the code, but I couldn’t cope with the idea right now. All those workplace temptations would be torture—everyone drinking coffee and talking about going out and getting drunk. I tried not to think about the state-of-the-art coffeemaker that was gathering dust in my kitchen, because it only made me want to scream with frustration.

  “Right. Let’s see what we’ve got for you this week.” James shuffled his paper around on his desk. I gave the first genuine smile of our conversation. His reliance on pen and paper in the age of information technology was somehow charming. “We’ve just started an account with a company called Dane Gibson Associates who need a new integrated payroll system. It’s an important account, so I’ll need you to check over the work my minions here have been doing.”

  I listened to James’s summary of the new account and tapped out a few relevant notes while simultaneously surfing to DGA’s main website to get more of an idea about what I’d be dealing with. They looked like an incredibly successful employment agency, dealing with professional temps and headhunting missions for companies across the South East. Dane himself gave a smarmy grin from their home page, and I felt an irrational surge of irritation at the man. He was way too good-looking, and he knew it. I wondered if the neatly trimmed goatee and stylish suit meant he was gay or merely metrosexual. Of course, I had to admit most straight men were better groomed than I was at that time, new haircut or not.

  When James had finished his rundown, he gave me an awkward smile. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but you’d say if it was more than you could cope with, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course. I’ll be fine,” I said breezily, knowing full well I’d have more than a few late nights working on this account.

  “Great. Well, I’ll email over the file and let you get on with things, then. Bye for now.”

  “Bye, James.”

  I kept the fixed grin in place until I’d switched off the webcam, then slumped back into the chair. Moments like these, I knew I was kidding myself when I said it was only the dialysis regime that kept me out of the workplace. If a twenty-minute conversation completely wiped me out, how on earth would I cope with a day in the office?

  18

  Still, no point in fretting about things that couldn’t be changed. I pinched the bridge of my nose, thought productive thoughts, and set about my latest assignment.

  Of course, forty minutes into my supposed work binge, I found myself navigating to my favourite adult DVD site—the one I knew used Ollie’s company for deliveries. I tried searching for “parcel delivery guy”, came up with nothing and eventually struck on using “mailman” as the search term. I added a couple of the most promising-look
ing titles to my basket and selected the guaranteed next day delivery option. Then I felt a bit guilty and went browsing for X-Men comics. At least that way I’d have something I could talk about next time Ollie knocked on the door to deliver my porn. It’s not like I could tell him I had a recently discovered kink for parcel delivery guys, could I?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, I stood naked in front of my wardrobe, willing it to give me a break. Ollie would be here at some point in the next few hours, if the online parcel tracking information was correct, and I wanted to be wearing something at least marginally more stylish than I had last time. I glared at the row of suits I could no longer fit into before reassuring myself that Ollie probably wouldn’t be into that look anyway as he had that whole skate-punk thing going on.

  Assuming he was even into guys, which he probably wasn’t. And even if he was, why on earth would he be interested in me?

  I had to keep telling myself that because I was starting to act like Zoe used to when she complained about having nothing to wear, despite her wardrobe bursting at the seams. I stretched up to the top shelf where I’d stowed all my clubbing gear, and as I did, the tape holding my catheter tube in place pulled free. I looked down to see it swinging loose and wondered who I thought I was kidding. There was no way I’d be able to disguise the outline of it through the close-fitting T-shirts, and then there was the fluid-filled belly of doom to take into account too. I had thought about skipping a bag and staying up late to fit it in before sleep, but it wasn’t like I could rely on Ollie coming at all—the tracking had been wrong before—and I figured I should probably put my health first.

  Doctor Singh would be so proud of me.

  I fingered the fabric of one of my favourite shirts and sighed. I knew I should probably just get rid of them all, but there was still a chance of getting some kind of life back before I got too old to wear it again. I just had to wait for someone with the right blood group and tissue type to die in a horrible accident that left a kidney intact. And their pancreas too, so I could be cured of the diabetes at the same time. God, while I was at it, why not wish for them to leave me a fortune as well? I felt like a complete and utter bastard wishing death on a random stranger just so that I could go out on the pull, so I shut the door on temptation and went to the chest of drawers where I stored all my day-to-day clothes. My stretchy, elasticated, baggy clothes. Great.

  I found a Wolverine T-shirt in vibrant blue and pulled that on, along with the least dorky-looking pair of trackie bottoms. It would have to do. At least I didn’t have a mullet anymore.

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Hang on a minute!” I called. I looked around for the tape I used to hold the tube down but couldn’t see it anywhere. Must have knocked it down the back of the bed again. Good thing the T-shirt was so roomy, as it hid the bloating as well as disguising the outline of the untethered catheter tube.

  God, I was attractive these days.

  I almost tripped over my own feet getting to the front door, then froze when I saw the purple-haired form outside. I had to bully my legs into getting going again. It was what I’d been hoping for, wasn’t it? Only thing was, I was paranoid all those fantasies I’d been indulging in—the ones about Ollie taking one look at the new haircut then pushing his way in and tearing all my clothes off—would show on my face. I ran my hands over my belly to remind myself of the real situation. Fantasy Ben didn’t look like this. Fantasy Ben had a nice set of abs and boundless energy. Yeah, fantasy Ben could go fuck himself, the smug git.

  “Hey there,” Ollie said when I opened the door, that million-watt grin lighting up his face again. “Like the hair. Got another one of these for you.”

  “Thanks.” I tried to kick-start my mouth into saying something interesting, but it refused to cooperate and decided it wanted to dry out instead. I suppose it was slightly less embarrassing than drooling over him. In an effort not to stare, I forced my gaze away and fixed it on the front garden next door. There was only a low, brick wall separating my spartan, gravel driveway with Mrs. Felpersham’s garden, but it was like another world over there. She’d crammed it full of blowsy pink flowers, a wooden wishing well and more garden gnomes than you could shake a stick at. Those gnomes always gave me the heebie-jeebies, but at least there were plenty to keep my eyes occupied at times like this.

  “Oh, sweet! I’ve got that exact same T-shirt! ’Course, mine’s a bit smaller.”

  Ollie started bouncing up and down on his heels, and I wanted to lick him all over, he looked so appealing. At that thought, despite being full of dialysate, I felt my cock starting to stir. It’s a good thing I was in the XXX-Large version of the Wolverine shirt. Still, I leant forward a little just to make sure nothing showed.

  My mind got stuck on the idea of how much I wanted to see him in that T-shirt and then out of it. I started to worry that I was going to blurt it out by accident, so I kept my mouth firmly shut. I must have looked like a right stuck-up twat. Didn’t seem to bother Ollie, though.

  “I should bring some of those comics round for you to read. It would be good to have someone to chat about them with. Most of my other friends think I’m nuts, you know?”

  What? Other friends? Did that mean he considered me a friend? We’d only known each other for a few weeks. I realised I needed to speak, and fast, if I wasn’t to make a terrible impression and get struck off that friends list.

  22

  “Yeah, uh, great. I mean, I’d like that, if you don’t mind lending your stuff to a stranger.” Great. Now I’d called myself a stranger when he was trying to be friendly.

  “Nah, it’s cool. I know where you live, after all.” He gave me another huge grin that made his cheeks dimple. It really wasn’t fair. No one should be allowed to be that cute.

  We did the parcel-signing thing, and I instructed my hands to stay where they were and not go straying over to stroke his. He had a graze on the knuckles of his left hand, and I wanted to kiss it better, like I used to with Zoe.

  “Looks nasty,” I said.

  “Oh yeah,” Ollie said, flexing his hand. “Skating injury. I was going for a 360

  kickflip, but I bollocksed it up. Looks worse than it felt.”

  Shit, I must have been staring. I hoped I hadn’t started making kissy lips or anything.

  “I didn’t know you were a skateboarder,” I said. After all, dressing like a skater was no guarantee of actually taking part in it. “Are you any good?”

  He twisted his lips in a half smile and wrinkled his nose, but his eyes still sparkled. “Not as good as I’d like, but that’s okay. I know I’m never gonna compete, or anything, but it’s fun. I like hanging out with the guys, you know?

  Studying their technique.”

  There was this glint to his eyes, and I thought maybe he was trying to imply something, but I wasn’t going to risk making a fool of myself and spooking a straight bloke.

  I mumbled something even I couldn’t understand and hugged my parcel close. Then I worried that it would pull my T-shirt in tight and reveal the tube, so I dropped my arms to my sides and tried to look casual.

  “What have you got today?” Ollie asked, pointing at the parcel. “Another film? You should sign up for that Love Film thingy, you know? Save you a heap of money.”

  “Uh, no… I mean, they’re not all films.” Shit, why hadn’t I prepared a lie for if he asked me that? I was rubbish at making things up on the spot, and I wasn’t about to tell him it was a couple of DVDs about delivery guys who liked to deliver more than just the mail to their eager customers. “This is work stuff,” I added lamely.

  “Oh yeah? What is it you do?”

  Okay, this I could handle. The trick was trying to make it sound interesting enough so as not to send other people into a coma. “Software design. I’m currently working on the code for a complex payroll system.”

  Ollie nodded, and I was pleased to see that his eyes hadn’t glazed over. “So does that make you your own boss? Nice one.
”

  “Not exactly, but I only have to check in with him now and again. I’m mostly left to my own devices.”

  “Ah, that’s not so bad, then. I wanna be my own boss one day. I’ve got two bosses, and they’re both bastards, but at least the one in the café lets me have free coffee on my shifts.”

  “You work in a café too? How on earth do you fit that in?” And how the hell did he have the energy to get up in the morning after holding down two jobs?

  “You must be knackered.”

  “Nah, it’s no trouble. I just do a couple of hours there early evenings and on weekends. Need to save up some money coz I want to open a little café by the ramps in Caversham Park. I could sell proper coffee and watch the guys skate all day, and whenever it gets quiet, I could draw. That’d be well sweet.” He had this faraway look in his eyes that made him look so young and innocent. He had to 24

  be at least eighteen, though, right? It’s not like they’d let someone who’d just passed their driving test out in a big van like that.

  Then the sparkle was back. “Shit, man, I’d better get going or someone’s gonna wonder where I am. Listen, I’ll bring those comics next time, all right?”

  “Yeah, great. I mean, that would be really kind of you.”

  “No trouble.” He grinned, and for a moment, I thought he was about to hug me or something, but then the moment was gone, and he was bouncing down the drive.

  “Bye, Ollie.” God, I envied that energy. And I was so fucking desperate to get my hands on those pert buttocks and squeeze.

  “Laters,” he threw over his shoulder with a smirk, and I flushed as I realised I’d been caught in the act again. Damn it! It was such a tease, trying to work out just what his arse looked like under those baggy trousers.