by Fabian Black
The coffee pot peeped a signal its contents were ready. I poured a mug of the rich black liquid, sitting back down again. Did I regret what had happened? Yes. It didn’t feel right. Another wave of dismay swept over me. I didn’t want to repeat the pattern I’d had with James. I didn’t want another friend with benefits and nor was I ready for a relationship. Maybe I never would be. Maybe it wasn’t within my personality to commit to someone up front and openly. I liked Dee-Dee, but we barely knew each other. We were in the early stages of friendship. By a single spontaneous, drunken, act we might have strangled the possibility of developing a deep and lasting friendship. The thought grieved me.
Picking up the mug I took a sip of coffee and then closed my eyes, inhaling the aroma, letting the steam mist my face. If only I possessed the power to go back in time.
“Hi.”
I almost let the mug slip from my hands, as Dee-Dee’s voice sounded. Setting it on the table I looked to where he was standing in the kitchen doorway. His hair was tousled. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched. His charming blush was in evidence, staining his cheeks with pastel pink. I felt burn spots pulse in my own cheeks.
“Do you want a coffee? I’ve just brewed some.” I stood up.
“Yes please, a headache tablet would be nice too. I think I might have a bit of a hangover.”
“You and me both.” I pointed at a drawer. “There’s some in there. Help yourself.”
While he took a couple of paracetamol, I poured him a mug of coffee and put it on the kitchen table opposite mine. “Milk’s in the fridge if you want some.”
“Thanks.” He got the milk out of the fridge and brought it across to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down before pouring some into his coffee. His hands were shaking. I wasn’t surprised, mine were too, nerves I suppose at facing up to what had happened between us.
He must have dressed in haste because I suddenly noticed his shirt was buttoned up the wrong way. I had an urge to lean over and redo the buttons, but quelled it. It would be too intimate a gesture, too open to misinterpretation. Instead I asked if he wanted breakfast.
“No thanks. I couldn’t eat a thing.”
There was an embarrassed silence. He broke it first, his blush deepening, spreading down his neck.
“Si,” he swallowed nervously, “about last night. I’m sorry, I…”
I held up a hand to stop him. “No, Dee-Dee. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I took advantage of you? I had no intention for what happened to happen.”
“You didn’t take advantage. I think I might have made the first move. I was drunk.”
“We were both drunk.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t think either of us has, not in the sense of being bad, unwise perhaps, foolish, but not bad. We had too much to drink and got carried away on a cloud of alcohol enhanced testosterone.”
“Yes. Animal instincts got the better of us. I like you, Simon. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I haven’t had it long enough. I don’t want a fuck buddy, not now I’m sober anyway. Are we still friends?”
Relief washed over me. “Yes, absolutely. I like you too, Dee-Dee, very much so.”
“Thank you.”
We fell quiet, each of us drinking our coffee.
When he’d finished he stood up. “I’d best be off home now. I want to have a shower, maybe go back to bed.”
I walked with him to the front door, opening it. “I’ll see you soon, Dee. Don’t be a stranger.”
“May I tell you something before I go?”
“Tell me what?”
“You look nice first thing on a morning, and by the way,” he gazed at me solemnly. “Your cock really is magnificent. It was a privilege to suck it.”
I pointed towards the corridor. “Go home, Dee-Dee.”
“Okay. Bye, Simon.”
Closing the door I leaned my forehead against it, conscious of a blush and a smile spreading across my face.
After having a long warm shower I got dressed and made tea and toast, taking them into the living room, putting them on the coffee table while I opened the curtains. It was another fine day. I winced in a vampirish way as the sunshine dazzled my hangover sensitive eyes.
As I turned from the window I caught sight of the envelope on the bookshelf. Picking it up I took it over to the couch and sat down, withdrawing the sketch to look at it again. I’d meant what I’d said about having it framed. If what I’d seen of his work so far was an example of his talents, then it was a crying shame he was unwilling to exhibit.
I made to put the sketch back into the envelope, but stopped, arrested, as I glimpsed something I hadn’t noticed before. There was a face among the flowers. I studied harder. It was a girl, pretty in a transitional teenage way. Jen? It had to be. It seemed to suit his sense of logic. He’d bought the flowers for her and laid them in her memory, so he’d drawn her into them. He was giving her power of possession in the living world. I was touched, and saddened. To die so young was a tragedy.
I also felt sadness for Dee-Dee, because twelve years later he was still visiting his friend’s grave, still recalling her face, still missing her. Most people would have moved on, stopped visiting the grave, but not him. It spoke of deep loyalty, another undervalued trait in a fast moving world of Facebook friendships and passing trends.
Slipping the sketch into the envelope I put it on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions. I was glad he and I had decided to overcome our impetuous foray into sexual activity and remain friends. I wanted to know him better.
Chapter Seventeen
As the days passed I had cause to doubt my hypothesis about us being okay with what happened between us, or at least him being okay with it. He did one of his disappearing acts. I didn’t see sight or hear sound of him. He was like the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel.
At first I wasn’t worried. I had college to prepare for and I was due to visit my mother and sister for a few days. I was to be an usher at Jo’s wedding in the spring and she wanted to start the fittings for my suit. I tried contacting him to let him know I’d be away, but he didn’t answer his door or reply when I buzzed his apartment. I left a note in his mailbox and told him when I’d be back, inviting him to call in for a coffee. He didn’t.
I knew he had a house phone. I’d seen it in his kitchen, mounted on the wall, but I didn’t know its number and I couldn’t find one listed in the directory. I had no email address. He didn’t own a mobile. The man lived downstairs from me, but he might as well have been a hundred miles away. It was frustrating.
The first day of the new college term arrived. The first week back was always hectic with new students to get to know. It needed my full attention, but I was distracted on two counts, first with worries about Dee-Dee, and second by the constant checking of my phone for messages. I knew why. I faced it. I was hoping James would contact me to ask how the term had started and what my first impression of the new influx of students was. He didn’t. The line had been drawn. He was not going to cross it to any degree. I composed messages, rewrote them again and again and deleted them without sending. The action ended each time with me condemning myself as a fool.
My distraction didn’t go unnoticed. Tony asked if I was all right. He also warned me the principal had been voicing concerns about my apparent lack of focus and enthusiasm. I made an effort to be more professional and push aside my private life when at work.
One evening towards the end of the first week I returned from work and checked my mailbox before going up to my place, as I always did. There was a letter from my mother. I recognised her neat handwriting. I knew what it was likely to contain. She had taken to sending me pictures of male civil partnership couples cut from the wedding section of local newspapers, as if to encourage me that gay men could find love and domestic bliss if they really put their minds to it.
I also found an envelope containing a sum of money. A return of th
e money I had lent Dee-Dee. There was a note written on the front of the envelope. It said: ‘thank you for the loan. I’ll never forget your kindness to me.’
I frowned, suddenly angry. What the hell was going on with him? Why hadn’t he returned it in person? The note had an air of finality about it, like a goodbye. Stuffing the money in my briefcase I stalked up the stairs to my apartment. Taking off my jacket I flung it over the back of the couch and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I was pouring a cup when there was a knock on my apartment door. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
My spirits rose. I’d misjudged the tone of the note. I hurried to open the door, intending to ask where the fuck he’d been hiding himself and why. It wasn’t him. Disappointment turned my stomach over. I tried to keep it from showing on my face, smiling at my visitor. “Hi, Sue. This is a surprise.” I held the door open a little wider. “Come in. I’ve just made coffee.”
“Thanks, smells heavenly, but I haven’t got time, Simon. I have to pick up my mother as of five minutes ago to take her to the doctors.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I feel a bit silly to be honest. It’s probably nothing, but I’ve just seen Dee-Dee. I think there might be something wrong.”
“Why, where did you see him?” My heart thumped with alarm.
“He’s kneeling by the side of the road near The Unicorn pub, do you know it?”
I nodded.
“I was on my way home from work a few minutes ago when I spotted him. I couldn’t stop because of the flow of traffic. I haven’t got time to go back now. I wondered if you’d go and check if he’s okay?”
“No problem.”
Grabbing my car keys I walked down the stairs with her. “What makes you think something is wrong, Sue?”
“It’s the way he’s crouched in the gutter. I beeped my horn, but he didn’t even look up. It seems odd, even for him.”
“He’s a law unto himself all right. I haven’t seen him for over a fortnight. I’ve tried, but he’s been elusive.”
“He might have had an attack of depression.”
“What makes you say that?” I felt a wash of sick guilt.
“His uncle told Bob that Dee-Dee was prone to episodes of depression where he’d lock himself in his room and take to his bed for days if something upset him.”
The guilt increased. I hated the thought that what had happened between us had upset him enough to trigger off a bout of depression. I understood more and more why his uncle had wanted to protect him by providing him with a safe little world of his own. I felt I’d gatecrashed it.
Sue and I parted in the car park, she going off to attend to her mother and me to attend to Dee-Dee.
Chapter Eighteen
He was where Sue said, crouched by the side of the road close to the pub. I could see the reason for her concern. There was something peculiar about his posture. His head was bent and fixed on something in the gutter, his body shielding whatever it was from view. I took the liberty of parking in the deserted pub car park before hurrying to him.
I recoiled in horrified disgust when I saw what he was concealing. It was a dead cat, a small black and white creature. A car had hit it. There was a pool of dark blood on the asphalt under its body where it had collapsed or been flung. Its jaw was broken and hanging loose, revealing a tiny pink hooked tongue. One eye was hanging from a socket. It was revolting. He was sketching this grimness of feline death with no sign of emotion and such close concentration he didn’t seem aware of my presence.
“Dee-Dee.” I touched his shoulder. He didn’t respond, continuing to slash pencil on paper. I hunkered down beside him, my concern growing by the second. He looked gaunt with dark shadows smudged under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t shaved for a number of days, or changed his clothes. He was unkempt and smelled of sour sweat.
“Dee-Dee.” I repeated his name more forcefully. “Look at me.” He kept sketching. Grasping his wrist I took the pencil from him. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He stared at me for a moment and then stated the obvious. “It’s dead, Si. I found it when I was out walking. I was heading for the cemetery to sit with Jen for a while and draw, but I found this.” His eyes brimmed.
“Why on earth would you want to draw it? It’s gruesome. Come away. Let me take you home. You don’t look well.”
The tears spilled. “I can’t leave the poor little thing here. I can’t leave it to be carrion for crows or foxes.”
The pub would be opening for evening trade soon. I didn’t want to leave him as a sideshow for curious drinkers. I had an idea. “I’ve got a sports towel in the boot of my car. I’ll get it. We’ll take the cat back to the bakery and bury it decently in the gardens. How’s that?”
“Yes.” His face brightened a little. “You’re right. We should return it to nature.”
I sprinted off to get the towel. Suppressing my revulsion I helped him lift the cat’s remains onto it and wrap them. I carried the little body to the car and placed it in the boot while he got in the front passenger seat. He slumped back, closing his eyes, turning his head away from me, obviously disinclined to talk.
He insisted we bury the animal as soon as we got back to the bakery. He chose a spot in the middle of a rose bed because he reckoned the thorns would deter would be predators from attempting to dig the corpse back up.
I borrowed a spade from the grounds store shed and dug as deep a hole as I could. He laid the wrapped remains in it and covered them over, pressing the soil well down before scattering rose petals on top. Leaving him paying his respects I returned the spade to the shed and then went back for him. He was still kneeling by the grave.
“Come on, Dee-Dee. There’s no purpose to be served in staring. You can’t bring the poor creature back.” Bending down I took his elbow, eased him to his feet and steered him into the building towards his apartment.
Mrs Royston made an appearance before Dee-Dee could even get his key in the lock of his door. She looked at us suspiciously, her eyes darting between us.
“I saw you from my living room window. What were you doing out there, why were you digging? It isn’t your place to dig. The contractors service the gardens.”
I decided truth was the simplest defence. “We found a dead cat down the road, Mrs Royston. We decided it would be kinder to give it a decent burial instead of dumping it in a bin or leaving it to rot by the wayside. Would you prefer me to dig it back up again?”
She sniffed. “That won’t be necessary, though I hope you haven’t set a precedent. We can’t have people turning the gardens into a pet cemetery. It’s unhygienic.”
“I’m sure it won’t happen, Mrs Royston. Now if you’ll excuse us.” Taking the key from Dee-Dee, I unlocked his door.
Once inside I insisted we both give our hands a thorough wash after handling the dead animal. Afterwards I put the kettle on to make tea while he slumped at the kitchen table.
He looked exhausted. I studied him as I waited for the kettle to boil, but didn’t speak until the tea was made and I was sitting opposite him at the table. I glanced around the untidy kitchen. “This place is a mess again, Dee, and so are you.”
“I know.” He flicked his eyelids up to glance at me and then lowered them again. “I’ve been depressed, let things slip.”
“When did you last have a bath or shower?”
He shrugged.
“A few days from the look of you.” I pushed a hand through my hair. “What the fuck is going on? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks, and why shove that money in my mailbox? Why not give it to me in person?”
“Sorry.” The tears started again, rocking his body. “I couldn’t face you.”
I was appalled. “Because of what happened? Did you feel I took advantage of you after all? I swear I didn’t mean to. You seemed okay when you left that morning.”
“No, Simon, no. You don’t understand.” Pulling up his grubby t-shirt he wiped his eyes. “I was, am, fine with that
night. I enjoyed it even if it was a drunken mistake. I didn’t want to see you because soon I won’t be able to see you and I hate the thought of it so much. I thought not seeing you and not getting to be better friends with you might make it easier for me to move away.”
“Move away?” I stared at him in total bafflement. “What do you mean move away? Jesus, but you talk in riddles.”
“I have to sell the apartment. I don’t want to, but I have to.”
“Sell?” I was shocked to the core. “No! Why? What the hell has happened? Is there some problem with your uncle’s finances?”
“Anne’s.”
“Anne’s?” I half got up and sat back down again. “Dee-Dee.” I took a deep breath. “Tell me exactly what you’re talking about, in straightforward terms, or I will strangle you.”
“Anne phoned me, the same day I left your place. I was so excited. She hasn’t phoned me in years. The only contact I usually get is an email with photos attached and a demand for artwork.”
“What did she want?”
The gall of the woman! I had to fight to control my anger as he unravelled the mystery of why he’d gone to ground.
I was almost as cross with him as I was with her. I let him know it. “You should have told me instead of hiding away and making yourself ill over it. I’ve been worrying myself sick because I thought you were upset about what happened between us.”
“You’ve already helped me through one crisis.” He twisted his shirt hem in his fingers. “The last thing I wanted to do was burden you with another one. Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about this. I’ll have to sell up. It’s the only way to get the money she needs. At first she said I didn’t need to move. All I had to do was use the apartment as equity to raise the money for her. I didn’t understand, so I looked it up. I can’t do it, Simon. I’ll never be able to pay the loan back from my allowances, not and be able to live as well. I’d end up losing it anyway. I told her. She said I’d have to sell up and find myself a place to rent.”
