CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Matthew was sprawled on the sofa, bare feet dangling over one arm, watching an old movie on TV. He did not speak, shift his position even slightly or take his eyes off the screen as I approached. “Matthew?” But he continued to stare at the black and white figures with a glazed expression.
If I hadn’t known what to expect when I finally found Matthew, I thought I was at least prepared for whatever recriminations or hurt feelings he might throw at me. Certainly, I was ready to say and do just about anything to win him back. I guessed he would be angry, possibly unforgiving. But this blank wall of indifference took me completely by surprise. “Matthew?” I tried again.
He did not stir a muscle.
I could only stand there, feeling horribly self-conscious, in an agony of despair and growing increasingly desperate. My only comfort was the knowledge that he had taken the trouble to let me in. Had he done so just to punish me? If so, he couldn’t have chosen a more effective means.
“Matthew, please, I’m sorry.” I blurted and even to my own ears it sounded like a cry from the heart.
He did not so much as indicate that he’d heard.
My eyes followed his to the TV screen where Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon were acting out a scene from Wuthering Heights. The stirring soundtrack, a love theme, struck me as both splendidly appropriate and hideously incongruous at the same time. It was one of my mother’s favourite movies so I recognized the finale where Heathcliff braves a terrible storm on Haworth Moor to go in search of his true love, Cathy, whose voice he hears calling to him. They are reunited, but only in death. I’d always thought it a soppy story until now. As I watched the drama unfold, I found myself incredibly moved, and made a mental note never to tease my mother for crying buckets over it again.
Well, I damn well wasn’t going to wait until Matthew and I were ghosts! I went to the television and turned it off.
“Hey, I was watching that!” Matthew cried in a fury.
“We need to talk.” I said quietly.
“Oh, yeah, and what’s the point of that when you never listen? Now, turn the TV back on.”
“The movie’s finished.”
“So are we.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Are you going to turn the TV back on or am I?”
“We need to talk,” I repeated. Matthew leapt up from the sofa and lunged at me. Seconds later we were tussling on the carpet. “Get off me!” I yelled. “I didn’t come here for a fight.”
“So why did you come?” He had me pinioned to the floor.
“To explain…” I panted weakly.
“Explain what? There’s nothing to explain. I’m the bad guy. You’re the good guy. Good guy tells bad guy to fuck off. End of story.”
“No!” I wailed miserably, “I need to explain. It could just as easily be my fault we’re...” I let my voice trail off into a void.
“That’s encouraging to hear,” Matthew responded icily but slackening his grip slightly.
“You don’t understand. Billy Mack was...Well, it could be that he was HIV positive. In which case…”
“That could make him the bad guy and, by default, you too…” Matthew murmured flatly.
I nodded, not trusting myself to say another word. He got up, returned to the sofa and sat down again. “I had no idea…” I forced my lips to move. “I had no idea,” I repeated.
“That’s okay then,” Matthew murmured with a shrug. Nor did the expression that met my pleading gaze convey any hint as to what he might be either thinking or feeling.
I got slowly, shakily, to my feet. “I know I’ve behaved badly and I wouldn’t blame you if you can’t forgive me. But at least hear me out. Please, Matthew, I need to tell you things…”
“I know the feeling.”
“I know and I’m so sorry. I should have heard you out. I guess I haven’t the right to expect you to do the same for me.”
“You’re right there, Rob, dead right.”
I winced at the bitterness that had crept into both his voice and expression. “I’ll go.” I headed for the door, glad of an excuse to look away.
“Giving up so soon? Running away? Why am I not surprised?” he flung at me.
I barely hesitated before rounding on him and letting rip with a burst of pent-up indignation, anger, hurt pride and self-recrimination. “Okay, so I got it wrong, as usual. But I came here to try and put things right. I know I’m a bastard. I don’t need you and everyone else to keep rubbing my nose in it! Yes I’ve made mistakes, but who doesn’t? At least I’m trying to learn from them, damn you. Okay, blame me for everything. Billy and I had unprotected sex and there’s every reason to suspect he may have infected me with the damn virus. But he wouldn’t have knowingly hurt me for the world any more than I would knowingly have hurt you. Because he loved me, just as I love you. Yes, I love you. I don’t expect you to love me after everything that’s happened between us. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you because I do, I do.”
I began to sob although no tears fell.
Suddenly, I felt drained of all emotion but an overwhelming love and need for this man, this stranger, passing through me like a murmuring stream that expects to come to a river only to become lost in its magnitude.
My legs gave way. I collapsed on a chair. Matthew continued to sit stock still, apparently unmoved. I summoned an inner strength and tried again. “I don’t blame you. Not for anything.”
“I should think not,” he retorted, “after what you’ve just told me.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“We…? So it’s ‘we’ now is it?”
I longed to get up and walk out, but my legs wouldn’t let me. I sighed. “I know I’ve hurt you and I’m sorry. What more can I say?”
“Not a lot.”
“So tell me you don’t love me any more and I’ll go,” I said without thinking. My heart missed a beat. I hadn’t meant to be quite so direct.
Matthew remained tight-lipped. From somewhere I found the energy to get to my feet and walk across the room. I was poised to open the door when he called me back. “Not so fast. We can’t leave it like this. Okay, you’re sorry. So am I. But saying sorry doesn’t let either of us off the hook does it?”
I retraced my steps and forced myself to look him in the eye. “I…”
“Sit down and shut up. You’ve had your say. Now it’s my turn.” Meekly, I did as I was told. “Can you live with this HIV thing?”
I hadn’t expected the question and was momentarily flummoxed. It was one I had asked of myself more then once, of course, only to push it aside rather than even try to formulate an answer. “Do either of us have a choice?” I countered and tried to adopt a breezy air, but only succeeded in sounding petulant even to my own ears. “Yes, I think so,” I murmured cautiously, and then with a growing confidence that surprised me, “Yes, I can live with it. It isn’t the death sentence it used to be, after all. Drugs can control and suppress it for years. There are new antivirals coming out all the time. One day, they’re sure to find a cure. Meanwhile… I know the immune system is vulnerable to whatever nature might throw at it but, yes, I can live with it. Let’s face it. We take our lives in our hands whenever we cross the road these days, not to mention some mugger sticking a knife in or shooting at us. Okay, AIDS is a real threat, not an unlikely scenario. But there’s a whole lot of living to do, and I say we do just that. Only, I need you, Matthew. I can’t do this on my own. You know, united we stand, divided we fall and all that stuff. ” I managed a weak grin.
“Do you honestly believe we can beat this thing?”
“We…?” I swallowed hard, scarcely daring to hope.
For the first time since I had entered the room, Matthew smiled. “To answer your question...” He sighed. “No, I can’t tell you I don’t love you.”
“Does that mean…?”
“It means we’re a couple of bloody fools who might just get away with loving one another for a good while yet if we’re lucky.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I said so didn’t I?”
Of one accord, we jumped up and fell into each other’s arms. For a long time we just hugged. When he finally kissed me, it was like coming back into the light after an interminable period underground. His warmth, his smell, the pressure of his lips on mine, they were all I wanted and more.
“We’ll be okay,” I murmured with conviction before he kissed me again and we headed for the bedroom. It was a sure, instinctive move, without any of the eagerness for sex that had prompted us on previous occasions. Oh, sex was part of it and we both wanted it. But this time it was all so different. This time, I felt as though I was part of something much, much bigger than either of us, something that was beautiful and would last, no matter that we were HIV positive.
We were feverishly undressing each other when he asked me out of the blue, Will you marry me?”
I stared. “What?”
“Well, we can go for a civil partnership. A rose by any other name and all that…”
“I…” My head began to spin.
His excited expression ebbed before my eyes as did the passion in his voice. “I see. You love me, but not enough to make a commitment. Why is that Rob? Afraid of what people might say?”
“No. I do love you.” I fumbled in vain for the right words to describe my mixed emotions.
“But…?” He laughed. It was a horrible, guttural sound that cut me to the quick. “There aren’t any buts, Rob. You love someone all the way or not at all. Oh, there are ups and down. Everyone has those. No buts though, not where love is concerned. If you’re afraid of commitment, we’re finished before we even get started.”
“You’re practically in the closet,” I accused him angrily. “A civil ceremony won’t go down too well at school.”
He shrugged. “They can take it or leave it. I can’t be sacked for being gay. If it’s hard work winning some people over, so be it. I can do it if I have you to come home to after a bad day.” He grinned but not with amusement. “So how about it, will you marry me? I’m game if you are.”
I desperately wanted to say, yes. But, like a fool, I said nothing. I pleaded with my eyes for more time to think about it. Matthew either misread their message or chose to ignore it.
“I think you had better go Rob,” he said quietly, his eyes filled with tears.
I dressed in a daze and barely remember leaving that room or even descending the steps from the front door below. But I will never forget how the ground rolled beneath my feet like the deck of a ship in a raging storm as I staggered along, despairing at my own stupidity, desperate for comfort and for someone to tell me why it was I couldn’t, for the life of me, put into words a commitment to love wrapped so tightly around my heart it was killing me.
Naturally enough, my feet took me in the direction of Lou Devlin whom I knew was staying temporarily with her parents. True, I was anxious for news about Shaun. (I had forgotten about the baby). Even so, everything said and done, it was but an excuse.
Haunting images began to flood my mind. Try as I might, they would not go away. Already unsteady of my feet, I felt as if I were floundering in a quagmire of sorts. Nightmarish flashes of smoke and flame passed before my eyes. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, so much so that I had to pause and sit on a low wall until a nasty coughing fit had passed.
Poor, sweet Ben, the best friend I never deserved. Gone, snuffed out like a candle. ”It’s not fair!” I cried aloud. Even to my cloth ears, the simile had a poetic if hollow ring. I clenched my fists. There was no poetry in burning to death, only terror, agony and waste.
I couldn’t bear it.
What have I done to deserve this, I kept asking myself? At the same time, I also kept avoiding the obvious answer. Who had failed family, friends and lover? I had only myself to blame. Self-pity overwhelmed me.
I wept. Silently, my tears fell, hot and wet, from eyes that had stayed dry far too long. Dimly, I was aware of people giving me strange looks. I didn’t care. Fiercely, relentlessly, I cried for them all; for Mum, Dad, Paul, Ma B, old Bananas, and last but not least for Matthew. (Dear God, what have I done?) I thought my heart would break.
I shed no tears for Billy Mack. There was no need. Somehow, things had come right between Billy and me.
Mostly, I have to confess, I cried for myself.
I wasn’t aware of anyone sitting beside me until an arm laid itself around my shoulders and lightly squeezed. “I’m sorry,” Mathew murmured to a crack in the paving stone at his feet, “I must have sounded like a pompous ass back there. I had no right to ask you to marry me and then get on my high horse because you wouldn’t give me an answer right away. I can wait. And there are other ways of making a commitment. We can still live happy ever after. We don’t have to make it legal.”
“I want to,” I sobbed.
“Live happy ever after? Me too….” Another squeeze dragged my thoughts into focus.
“I want to marry you.” I forced a laugh, “Well, a civil partnership anyway. Like you said, a rose by any other name…”
“Do you mean it?” His face radiated delight and disbelief.
I nodded, still crying. He released me, got to his feet, swept me up in a bear hug and swung me round till I felt literally dizzy with happiness. “I’m soaking your shirt,” I remarked ruefully.
We both burst out laughing.
Suddenly, he stopped. His expression grew serious. He deposited me on the wall and sat beside me, holding my hand. I waited patiently, anticipating a philosophical diatribe worthy of Shakespeare. "I would have come after you anyway,” he began, “but when I opened the front door, your friend Maggie was just about to ring the bell…” He paused and I saw he was excruciatingly uncomfortable.
My blood ran cold. “Go on…” I prompted hoarsely. For I already knew what he was going to say. A single word had stuck in my throat like a fishbone. “Shaun?” I managed to whisper.
“He died this afternoon. I’m so, so, sorry. I know how close the two of you were…” he went on. But I was past hearing, past even feeling for a while.
“No!” I protested at last and collapsed against Matthew’s heaving chest. Glad of his arms tightening around me, I was helpless to stop an unbearable hurt welling up inside me until it overflowed, tossing me on huge waves of grief and loss, taunting me with my own mortality, forcing me to confront my own insignificance in a universal pattern of events unfolding into infinity...
Later, we visited Lou together.
It was Lou’s mum who opened the door to us. A dumpy little woman with a shy smile, she showed us into a brightly lit sitting room. My first impression was that it was somewhat crowded. My wandering gaze took in a tall bespectacled man I knew to be Lou’s father, who was already on his feet and came forward to greet us, also a pimply youth with very short hair who remained seated while fidgeting with his hands as if longing to be somewhere else. Maggie was also standing and appeared about to leave, seemingly unconcerned that Ed kept a possessive eye on her every move. Lou sat on the edge of a brown leather sofa that was far too big for the room, offering a pale cheek to Maggie’s bold red mouth. Both women looked pleased to see us and Lou rose to make the introductions on Matthew’s account although I, too, had never met the pimply youth who turned out to be her kid brother.
“How’s the baby?” I asked nervously, wondering why there was no sign of her and fearing more bad news.
“She’s fine,” Lou assured me, “But she was premature and will need to stay in an incubator for a little while longer. Even so, I’m expecting to bring her home any day now. She’s beautiful.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m going to call her Shauna after her Dad.”
I swallowed, but could not dislodge a lump in my throat. “Oh, Lou, I’m so, so, sorry….”
We embraced.
“I’m glad you two have made it up,” murmured Lou to Matthew over my shoulder.
“So am I,” said Maggie, “Maybe now, Rob, you’ll be a damn sight easier to live with.”
Everyone laughed. If the sound rang a little hollow, it also carried a ring of truth, as if Shaun was determined to make his approval as well as his presence felt amongst us.
“I’ll make sure of that,” Matthew told her with a broad smile.
“Be sure you do,” Maggie responded with a flicker of the old mischief in her grey-green eyes.
“I wish…” I began but Lou laid a finger on my lips.
“What’s done is done. Shaun will always be in our hearts and we must settle for that.” She smiled, radiating warmth and happiness that was as inspirational as it was comforting. “Wait until you see Shauna. It’s just amazing how much she looks like her Dad. So you see, a part of Shaun will live on for real as well.”
What could I say?
“Can I offer you both a sherry or perhaps you’d prefer a beer? I’m sure there are a few cans left in the fridge.” Mr Simmons’s low baritone created a welcome diversion.
“A sherry would be nice,” Matthew spoke for us both and I was grateful for that, even though I had no great liking for the stuff.
Matthew and I were directed to the huge sofa where we perched self-consciously on the edge. The brother finally made up his mind to leave the room and did so without a word to anyone. Maggie and Ed sat down beside us while Lou resumed her position on the arm.
After a few minutes, Mrs Simmons followed her son while the husband engaged Matthew and me in polite conversation. When Maggie announced that she and Ed had to go, it was tantamount to being rescued. Arthur Simmons promptly gave the pair his full attention.
“I’ll see you both out,” said Lou and gave her father’s arm a squeeze as if to say, “I’m okay. I can do this.” The tall man looked relieved and went to pour himself another sherry.
I caught Matthew’s eye and we, too, rose to leave. Soon, all five of us had crammed into the little hallway. Ed and I found each other rubbing shoulders. I stuck out my hand, feeling more than a trifle ridiculous. He took it but looked slightly away rather than directly at me, the firmness of his grip belying the rush of colour to his face. “Thanks for saving my life,” I muttered.
“Bullshit.” Ed frowned. “If you hadn’t found me when you did I’d have been in no state to save myself let alone anyone else
“Quits then?” I suggested.
“Quits,” he agreed with an uncharacteristically shy smile.
“Thank heavens for that!” exclaimed Maggie. Both she and Lou were smiling broadly. “Another word about who saved whom and I’d have thumped you Ed Mack.”
“Now maybe the pair of you can be friends?” Lou suggested in a tone that spoke volumes.
Ed and I exchanged wary glances. “I thought we were.” His gruff rejoinder caught me off guard and I suspect my face betrayed me. Before I could frame a suitable reply, though, he was all but pushing Maggie through the front door and it had closed behind them.
“How can she even think of…?” I began, and then thought better of it.
But Lou had read my thoughts. “Marrying Clive? Who knows? I wouldn’t mind betting even Maggie doesn’t know the answer to that one.”
“She’s okay, that Maggie,” I found myself saying.
“Yes,” Lou agreed warmly, “Maggie’s okay.”
After we had said our goodbyes and were on our way back to the flat, Matthew remarked with some feeling, “She’s quite a woman, Louise.”
I started. I had only ever heard Shaun call her that. Matthew was right, of course, and I experienced a stab of guilt for ever having gone along with the old “Loopy” Lou tag.
Shaun. A dull ache spread through my whole body. I missed him so much already that I barely noticed Matthew slipping a hand into mine as we walked along the busy street.
EPILOGUE
Matthew and I attended all four funerals. Baz Pearce and Liz Daniels were cremated, their ashes later scattered where a tree was planted in Forty Acres wood in their memory. Ben Hallas and Sean were
buried in local churchyards.
Each funeral was unique, but shared a common sense of celebration that was at once uplifting and heartrending.
Of them all, the most harrowing for me was Shaun’s. Nor could I keep thinking how old his poor mother looked; that is, until she caught me watching her and smiled. The ravaged face became instantly transformed and I saw the same Nancy Devlin who had once taken me to her bed. I smiled back. Although I was comfortable with being gay, I would always be grateful to Nancy for that time when, as a troubled teen, I had struggled so with my sexual identity. Our brief exchange meant the world to me that day. Somehow I got through the service and burial without falling apart. Would I ever tell Matthew about Nancy, I wondered? I suppressed a chuckle. Nor did it strike me as incongruous that I should be entertaining these thoughts at such a time. Sean had, after all, always been good for a laugh.
Six weeks later, some of us gathered at the same church to witness the christening of baby Shauna. I was a proud godfather, Maggie and Nancy godmothers. Nancy positively glowed and I had to choke back the tears. Maggie, too, looked radiant but more than a little uncomfortable as well, although that may have had something to do with the fact that both Clive and Ed were among the congregation.
It was another twelve months before Matthew and I had our civil ceremony. It was a lively, happy occasion and timed to coincide with the re-opening of The Connie, scheduled for the next day. I had mixed feeling about a having reception there but any misgivings proved unfounded. Everyone had a whale of a time. If there were ghosts, I like to think they enjoyed themselves too.
Afterwards, Matthew and I drove to Forty Acres.
The wood had already sprung vibrantly alive again after a long winter. I recalled that time I had come here with Sean and how proud he’d been to tell me he was going to marry Lou and how, in turn, I had felt so thrilled at being asked to be his best man. I sighed. So much had happened since then. Oh, those who survived had moved on and we would continue to do so. But nothing could ever be quite the same again. By comparison, the wood was much as it has always been for hundreds of years. I chuckled, remembering those far off days of childhood and innocence when we had played at outlaws, probably on this very spot, Sean Devlin, Ben Hallas, Baz Pearce and me. And I the only one left to tell the tale. It was a sobering thought.
We sat on a log, a watery sun lukewarm on the back of our necks, Matthew and I, absently watching dead leaves floating on Caitlin’s pond. Above our heads, a budding sky promised a fine spring. Neither of us spoke. We felt no need for words. (Hadn’t we said enough for one day, promised ourselves to each other?)
I continued to rummage among not-so-distant memories without feeling sad, only glad to have them to fall back on.
All around us, birds were chirruping noisily and leaves were dripping pretty rainbows. Glancing up, I saw hazy circles around the sun and was reminded of a potter’s wheel I’d once struggled to master at school. I had so wanted to make a vase for my mother, but had only succeeded in producing a messy dollop of clay to which I hadn’t given a thought in years. Suddenly, it became absurdly important to me that I should make that vase. A course of evening classes perhaps?
I spotted some dog roses in a patch of weeds, wondered how they had managed to grow there and was filled with admiration.
“Come on. We can’t hang around here. There are a whole lot of things we need to make a start on,” Matthew declared and leapt to his feet, hauling me up with him.
Oh, how I love this place. I groaned inaudibly. Yet, if reluctant to leave, I was content enough to go along with the hand tugging resolutely at mine. There would be other times...
Matthew was right. There were a whole lot of things we needed to make a start on, not least a whole new way of life...together.
Matthew was right. There were a whole lot of things we needed to make a start on, not least a whole new way of life...together.
The End
[Note: In a few days, I will post the synopsis for a new serial, Like There’s No Tomorrow. Chapter 1 will appear shortly.]
