by Claire Davis
****
The next day, Tom came to talk to Troy about court, and the likelihood of prison. He looked tired, and weary. “Why, Troy? It’s been a year. Your probation officer’s been on the phone all morning. Everyone’s worried about you. Why would you fuck everything up now?”
Troy looked cornered and miserable, hunched inwards and his hair falling over his face. Cal longed to hold him, and make this go away, but Tom had seen it all before, many times. “You’ve got to learn to say ‘no’ to Ashley. I know he’s your brother, but he’s no good for you. If he cared about you, he would stay away.”
“He does care about me,” Troy mumbled, unconvincingly.
Tom sat down next to him, and sighed deeply. “Troy. I know he’s the only family you’ve got. I understand that. But you’ve got to start thinking of yourself. You’ve got loads going for you now, you don’t need this. If you go back to prison, you lose the job, your room here with Cal, and for what?”
Troy was fighting tears, and losing. One dripped onto the table, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. Cal stood it as long as he could, before gathering the heaving shoulders to him, not caring about Tom watching. Troy uncurled immediately, winding his long arms around Cal’s neck. Something caught in Cal’s chest, like letting go and grabbing at the same time.
Tom made movements to go. “Right. Well, come and see me later, Troy. We’ll talk about how we’re going to get you ready for court.”
Cal waited for the door to close before gently kissing all around Troy’s dark hair. “I’m going to have a go at you about Ashley as well later. And I’m not going to stop until you face up to it. You’ve been stealing my shampoo again as well,” he murmured. “You know what the punishment is for that, don’t you?”
Troy half laughed, pulling back to face Cal. His face was red and blotchy, his eyes shiny with sadness. Cal held his breath, and watched while Troy gathered strength and the cheeky smile resurfaced. “Is it giving my arse a good whacking? ’Cause if it is, I’m game. Oh, by the way, I nicked your soap too.” And he was off, flying round the flat with Cal chasing him, trying to keep all the shit at bay.
****
He stared at Mary with such intensity that his eyes would surely explode. The sweat was beginning to pool in his hands, and he could not breathe. He had to get out. He had to get away.
“It’s all right, Cal. Take your time.” Mary handed him some water and a tissue. “She wrote to me when you were in prison. I told you about it. She wants to see you; she’s always wanted to see you.” It was just hearing her name that had caused such an extreme reaction from him. Anna. He knew she wanted to see him, because she’d written him letters too, lots of them.
It was the last task. To visit Anna, and explain. How simple it sounded.
“Cal?” Mary knew him well, by now. She gave him time, but wouldn’t back down. He nodded, drank the water and breathed in.
The Thursday Before It Happened…
He has to go to Jay’s house for a birthday tea for one of the kids. All day he tries to cancel it, but can’t make the call. The kids will be waiting for him. Anna will be waiting for him. He can’t let them down. He never wanted to let them down. All the way there, he thinks everything will be different, but nothing is different, everything is the same as ever. Anna rushes out to greet him. “Cal! There you are, come on; we’re just doing the candles.”
She is always lovely to him, making him part of the family, ensuring there’s always a seat for him at the table. The kids swarm him, and for a while, it’s OK. He plays the games, wears the party hat, and pins tails on donkeys.
He is good with the kids. He loves the kids fiercely, with each birth he cries and adores them. Jay’s nieces and nephews. He loosens up a bit, around them. They make him laugh, with their princess games and secrets and the smallest looks just like Jay. He plays castle for a while, and Anna brings him a drink. “How are you, Cal? I haven’t seen you this week. Everything OK?” She is beautiful, always smiling and friendly.
“I’m fine, Anna. Busy, with the café, you know.”
She looks at him shrewdly. “You work too hard. Life should be about fun too, you know. When are you going to get yourself a nice boyfriend?” Just like that, she says it, then nudges him with her shoulder. “I’ve always known.”
He busies himself with his glass, there are not enough words, and no words at all. How much does she know?
She kisses his cheek. “You deserve to be happy. You’re a lovely bloke. You’re always welcome here, you know that.” Safer ground. He nods.
“Of course I do. I love coming here.” It’s true. Just being around the place where Jay lives is intoxicating.
“How’s business?” Anna knows to move on, she’s clever and kind, the perfect sister for Jay, who was best man when she got married, Cal with a lump in his throat the size of Africa.
“The café is doing really fantastic, I’m thinking of opening another next year.”
She’s always so interested in everything he has to say, but her bombshell is still fizzing away at his stomach lining. He doesn’t know if she’s said anything to Jay, or even if it matters.
Jay looks gorgeous, as ever. He has the confidence of the loved and the successful, and he deserves it. Cal wants to kiss him so much he accidentally snaps the wine glass stem, and makes a mess everywhere. Jay ushers him to the kitchen, and cleans him up, stealing furtive glances at his face. Cal knows something is about to come out.
It is in the air and Jay’s voice. There is something about the way he holds his shoulders, and a slight tightening of his jaw. Cal has watched that face for so long that he can detect the slightest change in mood. Jay nudges the door shut, and leans on the sink. “Cal. I don’t think you should come round here so often. Don’t take it the wrong way, mate. It’s just, just for a while. Get your head sorted out. Okay? And mate. That was the last time.” And he nods, the conversation is over. He doesn’t really want an answer, and he certainly doesn’t want a conversation with Cal. He never has.
Jay strides back to the living room, oblivious and uncaring, and it is like a light being switched off. It was the last fuck, and he isn’t welcome here any more. For an instant, Cal seriously considers shouting and screaming and launching his love after Jay, but only for an instant. Because he is Cal, and does not make a fuss. That is how he kept Jay for so long.
He carries on with the party, with the smile glued on his face and his eyelids tight like Sellotape and grit. Anna keeps looking at him, worried, and he is glad to get out. He drives off with his foot flat on the gas, and his head like a fairground, round and round, up and down.
****
He slumped as he finished, with the relief both of stopping and of starting. Next time he came here, he’d have to talk about that Friday, that fucking God awful Friday that was stuck in him like an enormous splinter.
He was crushed all over again. Weighed down by all he had done, and the awfulness of no escape or reprieve, because he was a murdering bastard and because of him those children had no uncle, and…
“Cal,” she spoke firmly, and so he listened because that was always his trouble. A firm voice and he believed, and bent over, every time.
“Cal. Look at me.”
He did. She was kind, like always, handing him tissues to wipe his eyes, but nothing could wipe out the words. He always knew one day he would tell her.
“It’s okay. Nothing has changed. You’ve told me some things right from your heart, but nothing has changed. It’s still you and me in this room. You’ve already been tried, and you went to prison.”
He nodded, and some of the pain left his head, because she was right. He tried. “It’s just… I blocked it all out, in prison. I had this plan of tasks when I got out, and that’s all I thought about.” But he didn’t mean to tell her, or anybody, about the tasks.
She leaned forward and says, “Tasks?” Of course, she missed nothing.
His head whirled with what he can say and what he ca
nnot say. He managed, “Just, visit the cemetery, and Jay’s mother. Sort it out with Anna.” But now he started, he couldn’t stop. “Sell my café, the house, and give the money to Anna and the kids. Because I ruined their lives, and I can’t make that right, but I can do this. I can make sure they never want for nothing that money can buy.”
“But perhaps Anna wouldn’t want that. You would have nothing left?” Mary said, carefully.
He picks at his fingernails. He hadn’t thought about what to say about the next part of the plan, so he shrugs instead. “I can start again.” Although that wasn’t the plan. It hadn’t been the plan.
“Anna has replied to my letter. She still wants to see you. A letter isn’t going to be enough, Cal, that’s not what she wants.” The telephone rang, and thankfully, Mary ended the appointment. He walked home, knowing the cocoon he and Troy had was about to be smashed.
****
Chapter Thirteen
Ashley was at the flat. Troy’s face lit up when he saw Cal; he bounded over and merrily kissed Cal’s cheek. “Hello, old man, how did you get on?”
“I’ll give you old man, you cheeky little bastard,” he answered, wishing Ashley would disappear.
Cal was increasingly consumed with lust the whole time Troy was around him, his cock seemingly half-erect most of his day. They could not keep their hands off each other, even now; Troy was slightly rocking into him, making the blood rush and his cock swell. Ashley watched with interest, grinning. “Hello Cal.”
Cal extricated himself from Troy, and nodded at Ashley, unable to manage more than a nod.
“I hope you’re going to stop dragging him into your shit now? I thought they’d have banged you up,” he growled at Ashley, who leaned back on the sofa and winked.
“No. Bailed and curfew. Court next month.”
Cal banged into the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind him, and tried to jot down a few ideas of what he wanted to say to Anna. He wrote for ages, explanations and dates, details which he thought Anna might like. Then, figures and projections of the café. She would never want for money again. He would keep nothing for himself, but once his Probation licence was up, he could start again. He had a vision of him and Troy, working together, maybe living in a flat somewhere nice. He caught himself, and snapped the book shut swiftly, determined to take one thing at a time.
Troy appeared, in a flurry of hair and long-limbed gorgeousness, wrapping his arms around Cal’s neck to breathe warm, minty air down his neck. “Mmm. You smell nice, Cal. Do you mind if I go out with Ashley for a bit?”
“Mind? I’m not your dad. Do what you want, but don’t get into any more fucking trouble,” Cal barked, regretting it immediately as Troy flinched. “Come here.” He pulled Troy onto his lap, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his lips. Troy made a small noise and melted into his embrace, already hard. Their tongues encircled, touched, and probed.
“Sorry,” he whispered, licking Troy’s ear, “just be careful, yeah?”
Troy nodded. “Have we got time for a quickie?” His hand already deftly releasing Cal’s swollen cock from his jeans, running his thumb over the end.
Cal groaned, unable to prevent himself from rocking back. “No,” he panted. “Your brother’s next door.”
“Fuck him.”
“I’d rather fuck you.” Cal grinned, pulling them both up, slamming the door shut with his foot, and dragging Troy’s jeans down, revealing his jutting cock and tight balls. “How am I to resist that?” Cal groaned, falling to his knees, stroking up and down Troy’s legs and buttocks, kissing his stomach and cock.
“Come on, let’s fuck,” Troy gasped, spreading his legs. “What are you waiting for?”
But Cal couldn’t, not with Ashley next door. He gently swirled his tongue around Troy’s cock, then sucked and sucked.
Ashley must have heard Troy. Knives and forks clattered to the floor as Troy flailed his arms and threw his head back, howling. Cal held him firmly, one hand gently cupping his balls. It didn’t take very long before Troy collapsed into Cal’s arms, shivering, flushed, and whimpering. Cal kissed him, and pulled his jeans up. “Go if you want. But watch yourself, and make sure you come back.”
“Don’t wanna go, now. Wanna stay with you.”
“I’ll still be here when you get back,” Cal whispered, wanting him to stay forever. Troy reluctantly pulled away, blew him a kiss, and was gone. He looked back, his face uncertain, biting his lip. Cal smiled at him, and winked. The flat door resounded, and everything was silent, and empty.
****
He was awakened by a crash and loud laughing, cursing as he recognised Ashley’s voice. It was probably best he didn’t go out there half-asleep and grumpy, like someone’s dad. He stuffed the pillow over his head, but could not shut out the laughing and banging, or the uneasiness that surfaced every time Ashley appeared; waiting, feeling second best.
Eventually, the door banged again, and it went quiet. He listened for a while, the tight band across his forehead creating nauseous peaks in his anxiety. There were voices, urgent and furtive, murmurs of quiet, intent arguing. He shouldn’t interfere, but he tiptoed to the door and listened.
Ashley was angry, vicious. “Fuck sake, Paul, it’s just a screw is all he wants. Just to screw you. Cal will never know. If you do this for me, I’m off the hook.”
Rage welled up in Cal, and he almost burst out the door and punched Ashley across the room. But, a tiny part of him wanted to see what Troy (Paul?) would say. He had this sick, dead feeling in the pit of his stomach, confirming what he already knew.
“No, Ashley, don’t ask me any more. I don’t wanna do it, please don’t make me. That last guy hurt me, Ash. I can’t do it no more. I just wanna go legit now, Ash. Please?”
Cal’s blood began to boil. Hurt him? Make him?
“But you’ve done it before, loads of times. You’re a slut for it! It’s just one last time, Paul. It’s not gonna kill you. If you won’t do it, I’m dead, you know that.”
“But I’m with Cal now. I love him,” Troy wailed.
Cal kicked open the door, strode towards Ashley and grabbed him by the jacket. He dragged him unceremoniously, gripping Ashley so hard it must have left bruises. “Now fuck off, and don’t come back here again. He’s not your whore, you scum. Leave Troy alone, got it?”
Ashley held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m going. No need to get nasty. And by the way? His name is Paul, not poncey Troy.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered off.
Cal slammed the door shut, and turned to find Troy sobbing in a huddle. “Has he gone, Cal?”
Cal nodded, kissing his head, and brushing the hair from his streaming face. “I can’t have him bully you like that. I’m sorry, for throwing him out, but he deserved it.”
Troy smiled through the tears. “I kind of liked it,” he whispered.
“He made you fuck people to pay off his debts? All those guys from the hostel?”
“Yeah. In prison too. It’s not like he held a gun over me. Sometimes. Sometimes, I liked it,” Troy whispered, hanging his head as Cal sat, pulling him onto his lap.
“It’s over, baby. Never again. Okay?”
“You still want me. You still want me?” Troy whispered.
“’Course I do, Troy. I know how you felt, having to do that. You have nothing to be ashamed of, but Ashley? He’s not coming here again. Ever.”
****
Chapter Fourteen
He woke up first, and knew that today was the day, and somehow, he was ready.
Troy stirred, and smiled up at him, bleary eyes and beaming, hand around his cock and balls. “Morning, boyfriend,” he mumbled, whirling his tongue around Cal’s earlobe.
Cal froze, a million thoughts refusing to make sense or come together.
All at once, he had to get out. He spoke brightly, extricating himself from Troy, and leaping out of bed. “Oh shit, look at the time. I’ve got to be at Probation in ten minutes,” he gabbled, crazily.
He could not look back at the hurt face, the shock, or the pain, but he felt them all, recognising them like old shoes battered by his shape.
He was out of the flat in five minutes, unshaven and shivering. He hated himself. He could not cope with it, not then. He almost turned back, his hand on the door, poised. But this was the same hand that put the car keys in the ignition, so instead he shouted through the letter box. “See you later. Have some breakfast.” Then he was off, walking briskly, alone and tight jawed.
****
By the time he got to Probation, he was ready, he was. But as he sat in the reception, the whole awfulness of it all crept back over him like a hood, that day and what he had done. Whilst in prison, he made himself say it to the mirror every single day, “I killed Jay. I am a murderer.” Sometimes it sounded funny, and he had laughed until tears ran down his face, oblivious to the other men staring at him curiously. But sometimes, the words themselves seemed to have life, each one following him and reminding him, every minute of the day and night. Those words made him suffer, and he welcomed this, using it to stay focused.
He had lost that focus now. He accepted that. Life and the world had crept into the space in his head left by Jay, and now there was no gap. Now there was mostly Troy, and his chipped teeth and warm, lovely hands. Troy. His hands were cold on his face as he rested for a moment and felt sick.
“Cal? Come on in,” Mary called, opening the door to the interview rooms to usher him in. Afterwards, and for the rest of his life, he would always remember the smell of the rooms; pine cleaning powder— cloying and nasty.
“How are you today, Cal?”
He smiled at her, feeling a little better. “I’m fine, thank you Mary, are you?” She nodded at him, and they exchanged news of the weather, the bed and breakfast, before she was right in there.
