Love On The Rocks -- 37
This story contains sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.
As `Kenny Best Tonight' went to a commercial break, all I could think about was how I felt that afternoon back at Grand Apartments when, in only briefs and an unbuttoned shirt, I answered my door and found Tyson Hill standing in front of me. I remembered the euphoria I felt later that day when he stood in that same doorway and kissed me for the first time; an intense, heart-stopping, earth-shattering kiss. It was as if my world had stopped, and that's exactly how I was feeling right now.
I stared at the television screen and it was only when I dribbled on my jeans that I realised my mouth was open. Next to me, my mobile was ringing and ringing, yet the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere far away. No point answering, I was speechless.
Ty had just outed himself and said that I was the only person he'd loved with all his heart. On a top-rated, prime-time national television program, live in front of millions of viewers. I glanced at my phone and noticed missed calls from Max and Steve. I picked it up and switched it off as the commercial break came to an end.
The program's theme music struck up and I glanced at the clock. It was right on 9:30. Suddenly I realised the reason for Ty's little grin when he dropped his bombshell. He'd had the last laugh on Best, knowing that the program had to end on time to accommodate the national news linkup, and there would be no time for any further discussion.
"Welcome back to `Kenny Best Tonight'," the host said to camera. "Our special guest this week has been Tyson Hill, who just left us with an earth-shattering revelation." The camera shot widened to include Ty who was sitting looking as relaxed as he had ever been.
Best turned to him. "So, this Michael you mentioned?" he asked. "Is he your partner?"
"He was," Ty replied calmly.
I could hear the show band getting ready for the playoff, and a clearly frustrated Best turned back to camera and said, "You heard it here first, folks. I'm Kenny Best, thanks for tuning in, and a big thank you to our celebrity guest -- Tyson Hill."
As the credits rolled, the camera panned the applauding audience, many of them on their feet. A second camera shot caught Lachlan and Scott, who didn't look at all surprised or shocked so they possibly knew in advance that this was going to happen. As the credits wound up, the program ended with a shot of Best and Ty leaning forward on their respective couches and talking.
The station immediately went to network news and I held my breath until I was sure that Ty's declaration wasn't part of the précis of headline stories. It was obviously too sudden for them to scramble anything together, but I knew without a doubt that news agencies across the country would be in turmoil, preparing stories for the morning papers and the glossy weeklies.
My mind, as always, was split. My lawyer mind was trying to process the ramifications of Ty's actions, whether it might affect his contract with the record company (although I didn't recall a `morality' clause in what I'd read; had it been there I would have asked for it to be removed). I quickly pondered the possible impact on Ty's record sales and tour audiences.
Then the personal mind took over and my thoughts turned to Dot and Frank; privately they'd been so accepting -- and supportive - of Ty's sexuality and his relationship with me, but how were they dealing with knowing that the world at large now knew their first born son was a gay man?
I thought of Daniel and his mother Mandy; how would Daniel feel about sharing the Number One spot on the pop charts with a man who was suddenly centre stage in the media spotlight for coming out?
Then there was Vince. Was he in on Ty's plan, or would this have come as a complete shock to him as it had to me? It was Vince and Monique who would be dealing with the fallout and right about now they would be in full damage control.
Then there was me. What was I supposed to do now? Send flowers to Point Piper to congratulate Ty? Hold a press conference? Was it Ty's expectation that now he had declared his love for me publicly, I'd go running back to him and we'd just pick up where we'd left off? Or were we simply moving on? Ty had spoken of me in the past tense so perhaps he was celebrating his coming out' by putting us' in the past?
I had no answers of course, only more questions. I needed to return Steve and Max's calls but there was little point in putting my questions to them. How could they possibly know what -- if anything - should happen next between Ty and me? In Stanthorpe I'd told Scott that neither I, nor Ty or Andrew Wall could tell him what the next step with Simon should be; only his heart could tell him that. I needed to heed my own advice. The problem was, my heart was still trying to mend itself so for now, it wasn't telling me anything.
I lay on the couch and thought about Ty until late. Most of all I hoped that he was standing up to be counted for himself and not for me. Despite what had happened between us, it was my greatest wish that he could live his life the way he wanted to, openly and happily. He deserved to be happy.
The more I thought about him, and `us', the more I felt sure that Ty was probably better off without me. Today was the first day of the rest of his life and he had the chance to start afresh, and just see where the rest of the journey took him.
I could feel tears in wait, so I jumped up, shut the apartment down, and got into bed. Before turning off the bedside lamp, I switched my mobile on and played back my messages. There were a couple from Steve who naturally wanted to talk to me. I wasn't up to a heart-to-heart, so to stop him worrying about me I sent him a text saying I was fine and I'd ring him tomorrow.
Max was calling to let me know he needed to speak to me as soon as possible, after he'd taken a call from Vince. I wasn't ready for that either so I sent the same text to Max that I'd sent Steve, and then switched my phone off again.
To sleep, perchance to dream ...? Not quite. Yet strangely, it was with Shakespeare's words in my mind that I finally drifted off to sleep.
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles ..."
In the peace of sleep, I was in a beautiful place. It was Bedarra Island the morning after Ty's showcase. I was lying on my side early in the morning, watching him sleep after the exertions of our lovemaking in the wee hours. He was on his back with his face on its side on the pillow. Filtered sunlight was seeping through the shutters, and he was as devastatingly beautiful as he was the night before. For that short time, we were in our private world ...
I woke with that thought ... our private world? It was a thing of the past now. To a certain extent, as a rock star Ty had always been public property, but since his announcement on TV last night, his life would likely be under much more intense scrutiny from now on. And potentially, so would mine.
Showered and shaved, I made toast and coffee and sat at the laptop. I checked Ty's Facebook page and the feedback was all very positive. Lots of "good on you" and "we love you". I knew of course that the record company and Monique had administrator rights to the page so all the nasty ones wouldn't have made it through. His `Twitter' account -- also handled by the record company and Monique -- was squeaky clean too.
I checked the nation's daily newspapers and most of them carried the story, some with more prominence than others, and most with the same shock confession' angle. Online news agencies were all much the same, and I was intrigued to see that several of them had searched for and posted the gayest' shots of Ty they could find, archive shirtless photographs from early in his career.
It was the forums of these sites where the real reactions could be found. Fortunately most of them reflected the Facebook comments ... "good on ya Ty!" ... "way to go mate!" ... and even a couple of "who cares?" There were occasional tirades, most of them seemingly written by young males with something to prove. One posting was allegedly from the mother of a teenage girl who idolises Ty. Mum was basically damning him to hell, writing that she had confiscated all of her daughters CD, DVDs and posters, and would not allow her to buy a ticket to see the forthcoming concert by "that filthy pervert".
The websites of the country's two leading gay organisations carried positive stories, both expressing surprise that Ty had escaped their `gaydar'. "He is, and always was, a great role model for young Australians," wrote one in a touching editorial. "He is now a shining light for young gay Australians ..."
The forums were jumping with posts. There were of course the expected ones: "I knew it" ... "I had a feeling" ... "he's too fucking gorgeous to be straight". Despite myself, I smiled at a couple: "Lucky Michael!" ... "I'd kill to be Michael!" I stared at one posting for several seconds before I closed my browser: "Sayonara Michael! I'm available, Tyson!"
I flicked around the radio dial and caught a few references on the breakfast programs to "the big news". Mostly it was juvenile snickering and bad taste references to "Deep Inside Of Me".
On the ABC, I tuned into a discussion between the morning host Joe Payne and his show business commentator. Ty was a longtime admirer of Payne, who was waxing lyrical about Ty's honesty and integrity. "What you see is what you get with Tyson Hill," he said. I was surprised when Payne ended the discussion by promoting an interview with Ty later in the morning. "There is no media campaign in place around Tyson Hill's announcement," he said. "He has agreed to one interview only before closing the subject, and I'm very pleased to say that interview will be on this program, at around 10:45."
I turned the radio off and switched on the TV. One breakfast program had two psychologists on, one talking about what Ty's coming out meant to him in career terms and the other talking about the impact on his female fans. All fascinating but ultimately ridiculous. The other program was playing it for laughs, inviting viewers to text with their guesses about who "Michael is ... Michael Douglas? Michael Phelps? Michael Keaton? Michael J. Fox?".
I ducked out to have coffee and something quick to eat, picked up the daily newspapers and made sure I was back in time to catch Ty's one radio interview. As soon as I arrived back in the apartment I took a call from Max's secretary Trish who was letting me know that Max would be heading to my place later in the morning. She asked that I not to go out until I'd seen him, and she assured me it was urgent.
As I knew too well, when Max says something's urgent, it's usually not a good thing ...
The dailies all ran with Ty's big announcement', the tabloids giving it much more prominence than it really deserved and certainly more than the broadsheets. Our one national daily relegated it to a paragraph piece on the Arts page, while the trashies devoted a page each to the expose'. In true tabloid style, they picked the sultriest photos they could of Ty, and the ones in which he wore his tightest pants.
I only skimmed their stories, littered as they were with catchphrases such as "shocked the nation", "dropped a bombshell" and "rocked the music industry". There were, of course, no direct quotes from Ty, outside of what he'd said on the television program, but plenty of "informed sources" and "close friends" got to have a say. When all was said and done, it really was a non-story.
So far, so good. Ty would only need to survive the onslaught on the glossy magazines in the coming week and the whole thing would hopefully die down a little. However, it did worry me that in one of the tabloids, "a source close to Hill" had suggested the "Michael" referred to on television was "someone within the industry that he has worked closely with".
I paid my bill and made it back to my apartment in time to listen to Joe Payne's introduction. "My next guest is the hottest rock star in the country, the boy from rural southeast Queensland who took on the music industry -- and won. He's known and loved for his amazing voice, his good looks and his willingness to get behind needy causes but overnight, he's stirred up a media frenzy. He's on the line. Good morning, Tyson Hill."
"G'day Joe!" Ty said enthusiastically.
"I've never known you to be `controversial' before mate!" Payne said.
"I wasn't trying to be controversial, Joe," Ty replied. "I was asked a question and I answered it honestly."
"Did it take a lot of courage to admit to being gay?"
There was nothing in his voice to indicate it, but I knew Ty would have bristled. "Why would I have to admit' to being gay?" he asked quite sensibly. "Heterosexual people don't have to admit' to be being straight! I'm an ordinary Aussie bloke who likes guys. If I need to be labeled, I'm a gay man; simple as that. I've never been asked about my sexuality before. Last night I was asked a question and the only honest answer I could give was the one I gave."
"What impact is it likely to have on your career?"
"I have no idea. I can't see why it should impact on my career. I woke up this morning the same guy I was yesterday morning. Nothing's changed."
"Have you seen the media today?"
"No. I tend not to read what's written about me in the press."
"You're very close to your family, I know. How have they reacted to this news?"
"My parents and my two brothers know everything there is to know about me. They have always loved me and supported me unconditionally and they continue to do so."
"You have the number one single and album in the country again this week, and your national tour has been announced. Some cynics are suggesting this is a way of generating saturation media to keep the `industry' rolling along?"
"Cynics will always see things the way they want to see them," Ty replied. "This is the one and only time I will discuss this. After this morning, the subject is off the list of interview topics."
"Do you think the media's going to cop that?"
"Joe, I've never talked about my private life in the media, as you know," Ty said. "It's always been off limits, and it always will be."
"You did a magazine spread with your brothers Lachlan and Scott just a few weeks back."
"That's my family," Ty explained. "They're usually off limits too, but my brothers both wanted to take part in that shoot, we all wanted to celebrate what it means to be brothers. That's different. It's my private life, or -- if you need it spelt out -- my `love life' - that's off the table."
"By not talking about your own `coming out', do you think you're missing the opportunity to help young people coming to terms with their own sexuality, and being a positive role model for them?"
Ty sighed. "I'm not going to be a poster boy' for gay causes," he said tactfully. "I am a singer and a songwriter and I'm happy to be judged on those aspects of my life. I don't feel the need to beat my chest about my sexuality. I don't believe homosexuality needs to be justified, any more than heterosexuality needs to be justified. It's only one of many things that add up to who I am as a person. Life is a different personal journey for all of us. The only thing I would say to young people coming to terms with their sexual identity is, don't leave it this long to say yay!' Don't let yourself get to 30 before you can stand in front of a mirror, look at yourself and say `this is who I am'. You've gotta love yourself before someone else can love you."
"Do you love yourself?"
"I'm aspiring to."
Payne laid it on thick. "Tyson, you're already a role model for thousands of young Australians, just for living your life with dignity and stepping in to help whenever someone needs a hand."
"Thank you, that's very kind," Ty replied. "I try to reach out to people through my music and if it helps them in their lives then I believe what I'm doing is worthwhile."
"Do you think you'll lose fans as a result of last night's interview?"
"I can't say, Joe. I really have no idea. People will make up their own minds. Like I say, I'm the same guy today that I was yesterday ..."
"You may end up with a whole lot of new fans!"
"Again, I don't know. I'm just going to focus on my music and let everything else just happen as it happens. Right now I'm really looking forward to going out on tour and seeing everyone again. That's what's important to me."
"You mentioned someone named `Michael' as the only person you have ever truly loved with all your heart?"
"That's correct."
"Are you a couple?"
"No. Not now."
"You said last night it was `true love'. What happened?"
Ty sighed again. "I've already explained Joe, my private life is private. It's not something I'm going to elaborate on."
"Let me congratulate you on the amazing success of your latest single `All You've Got to Give'. You've unearthed a real talent in your young co-writer Daniel Keneally."
"Yeah, he's something else, isn't he?" Ty enthused. "He's only 15. I knew he could play guitar, but I was not expecting the level of skill he's shown as a singer and a writer. Dan's had a really tough time with leukemia but throwing himself into this project seems to have done him a power of good."
"He may end up your greatest competition!"
"Well, bring it on mate!" Ty laughed. "Seriously, I hope this success is a launching pad for him, to give him a sense of purpose as he copes with the long recovery he still has ahead."
"You've got two important events coming up, almost back to back. You're a guest at the AFI Awards next week, and then you've got the ARIA Awards. `Album of the Year' eluded you last year. Do you think you'll take it out this year?"
"No idea, Joe!" Ty replied. "Like last year, every nominee is worthy of winning so I wish them all good luck!"
"It's always a pleasure talking with you Tyson. Thanks for your time this morning, and all the best for Saturday week!"
"Thank you, mate. Take care!"
"It's 10 past 11 on 702 ABC and I've been talking with Tyson Hill. Here he is now with Daniel Keneally and their smash hit `All You've Got to Give' ..."
I listened to several of the talkback calls Payne took when the song ended, all of them positive and supportive of Ty, but I turned the radio off when my doorbell rang. I answered it to find Max laden down with bags of takeaway food.
"Did you hear Ty's interview on the ABC?" I asked.
"Yeah, I caught most of it in the car," Max replied as he dropped everything on my coffee table. "Tyson was great. He handled it very well."
"So what's up?"
"Mate, you need to get out of town for a while."
"What? Why?"
"The media's on the hunt to reveal who `Michael' is."
"All Ty said was `his name is Michael'. That's not going to be enough to lead them to me!" I exclaimed.
"You're not thinking straight," Max sighed. "What about the photographs?"
"Ty and I haven't been photographed publicly," I replied.
"You haven't posed for photos," Max agreed, "but you'll still be in plenty of photos. They just have to start looking through their files."
"I haven't been around Ty much when he's been photographed."
"Really? What about the showcase at Bedarra? You were on his table at the ARIA Awards last year, and at the after party. Then there was the Leonard Cohen media launch in Brisbane. You were in the bridal party for Lachlan's wedding. You want me to go on?"
"How do you know about those occasions?"
"I have a mate at Fairfax who owes me a couple of favours. I got him to upload a zip file of everything photographic they have in their system to do with Tyson Hill. You're floating in the background in heaps of them."
I slumped. "Do you really think they'd bother going to all that trouble?"
"We've already had a call at the office this morning from a journalist asking for `Michael Stewart'," Max responded.
"What did you say?"
"I didn't speak to him. Fortunately, we have a temp on reception at the moment because Anita's on leave. The temp hasn't met you, so she told the guy there was nobody by that name working for the company."
"Well, that's the end of that then?" I asked hopefully.
"He's just the first, Mike. There'll be more, and they'll start snooping. It won't take them long to find out where you live and you'll find paparazzi following you. You know how this works mate."
"You mean you want me to go into hiding?" I asked incredulously.
"Tyson doesn't need this story to be ongoing, and it won't make the partners happy if the firm gets dragged into this," he said matter-of-factly. "You just need to be out of sight for a few days until it all dies down."
"So, what? You want me to check into a hotel in disguise and using a nom-de-plume? That's a bit slapstick isn't it?"
Max smiled as he dropped a set of keys on the table. "I want you to drive down to my place at Shoalhaven Heads and just lay low for a few days. At least until this has blown over."
"Is this really necessary?" I sighed.
"It is if you meant it when you said you don't want to be splashed all over the media."
"When should I go?"
"The sooner the better," Max smiled. "Just throw what you need in a suitcase and get going. You can pick up supplies from the local supermarket. The basics are all in the kitchen and there's plenty of wine in the cellar."
"Anything I need to know?"
Max pulled a document from his suit jacket pocket. "Here's the security code for the alarm and instructions on how to disarm it and set it again. Also there are instructions for using the TV sets and the other appliances."
"I can't believe I have to do this."
"It's a precaution Mike," Max sympathised. "Just treat it like a few days away at the beach. You'll enjoy it down there, with all the fresh air. It's nice and quiet as you know."
Max and I ate our baguettes in silence, as I thought about the many times I'd walked or run along beaches, not only with Ty but on other occasions with Lachlan, Scott and Steve. Memories like that had a habit of catching me off guard.
After Max left, I started packing a suitcase with clothes and a smaller bag with CDs, DVDs and books. I grabbed my laptop, secured the apartment and headed to the basement car park.
The drive to Shoalhaven Heads was enjoyable. Traffic on the Southern Highway was light and the weather was kind. I turned on to Princes Highway and followed it to the Shoalhaven Heads turnoff. I followed the signs to the village and in short order found the Lettuce Inn' supermarket and Foodworks' where I stocked up on fresh food for my hibernation.
I pulled up in the driveway of Max's waterfront home and carefully read the instructions for getting inside the house and switching off the alarm. I opened the front door, punched in the code and held my breath for 10 minutes until I was sure the system had shut down. The last thing I needed was security guards turning up asking questions.
I walked around switching on lights and opened French doors leading to the balcony before bringing in my luggage and the groceries from the car. I unpacked the food and put it away. It was mid-afternoon and I hadn't eaten since Max dropped by with baguettes, so I sliced up some fruit to tide me over until dinner.
I put on a CD (Dee Dee Bridgewater's `Midnight Sun') and as cool jazz was carried through the house on the gentle breeze from the ocean, I unpacked my suitcase and got the bedroom organised. I stretched out on the bed and let myself be lulled into a light sleep until the CD ended, and then I laid awake contemplating my life as it was at the moment. I had ended my relationship with Ty, I was on extended leave of absence from work and I'd had to give up my apartment to dodge the press by fleeing to a south coast hideaway. Way to go, Mikey!
My current circumstances seemed absurd to me; it was as if I was reflecting on someone else's sorry life. Someone else who'd allowed their life to run amok. I had prided myself on being a clean living, law abiding attorney and yet here I was, hiding away like some petty criminal. It might have been amusing if it wasn't so alarming.
I stayed with my thoughts until the sun began its descent. I turned on the television in the lounge room. I got Max's barbeque started and slow seared a steak while I tossed a salad. I took a call from Max as I tended the steak and assured him I was OK.
I ate my meal watching the news and then absorbed myself in a few `Seinfeld' reruns on cable. I must have been more tired than I realised, for the next thing I knew I awoke on the couch at after midnight. I switched off the television, put my dishes in the dishwasher, climbed into bed and went straight to sleep.
The next morning I showered but forewent shaving. If I was lying low, I may as well not be bothered with looking presentable. I took an early morning walk along the beach, occasionally flashing on memories of long walks on the sand with Ty, Scruffy running ahead of us trying but always failing to catch seagulls.
It set a pattern for the next few days, where my mornings began with breakfast and then clear-headed walks that turned into jogs and finally, long runs. I busied myself during the days with sightseeing in town and the surrounding areas. In the local library, I learned that the Shoalhaven region was explored by George Bass in the late 1790s. He crossed the shoals at the entrance to the river and named it 'Shoals Haven' because of the shallowness of the river mouth, but the river later became known as the Crookhaven.
Other days, I explored museums, antique shops and bookstores in Nowra, Jervis Bay, Ulladulla and other towns in the region. I spent the most part of one day in Currarong, a small coastal fishing village with a population of less than 250 and boasting a general store, a newsagent and a cafe. I bought some bait, hired a rod and sat on the pier fishing for a few hours. I caught a few but threw them all back.
Another afternoon was spent at Culburra Beach, lying on the sand watching the surfer boys who came from all over the state to enjoy the splendid surf conditions. How happy they seemed as they pursued their greatest pleasure, and how uncomplicated their lives seemed to be. It took me back to my own carefree youth.
Max checked in once, sometimes twice a day on the pretext of letting me know what was happening at the office or who'd called my mobile, but I knew -- and appreciated -- that he was really just keeping a distant eye on me.
I was having a coffee at a sidewalk café in the city centre late one morning when I saw a delivery truck pull up outside the newsagent and offload bundles of new editions of the weekly glossy magazines. While it's not something I usually did I couldn't resist buying a copy of each of them on my way back to Max's house.
I made some tea and sat on the balcony flicking through them. All of them had pieces on Ty and some carried double page spreads. Their blazing headlines were typical: Tyson Looks For Love', Tyson Hill : Love On The Rocks?', `Tyson Hill : He's A Man's Man', ``Will Tyson Ever Find True Love?' ...
He was featured on the cover of the new edition of the gay magazine `DNA', which carried an editorial piece about the dignified way Ty had come out.
Who' magazine had a series of photos of the various Michaels' that Ty had been photographed with over the years ... singers Michael Franti and Michael Stipe, actor Michael Caton, producer Mike Winchester and, to my dismay, "lawyer Michael Stewart". It was a shot taken at Lachlan's wedding of Ty introducing me to one of his mates from school.
Max chose that very moment to call and mention the `Who' article. I told him I had it in front of me and that I was feeling unnerved. Max was great, urging me not to worry and assuring me that the picture itself meant nothing. I was simply one of several Michaels with nothing implied. He did say he hoped they wouldn't dig any deeper.
Before hanging up, Max reminded me that he'd had calls from Steve and Dad and that since then, my sister Lyn, Lachlan, Scott, Frank and George had all rung. I dropped all the magazines in Max's bin, toasted a sandwich for lunch and then spent the afternoon returning some of those calls.
I still wasn't ready to call Scott or Frank, but I started with George. God it was good to hear his voice, and he was still the same beautiful old man, concerned for my welfare and wishing he could help. Without a hint of gossip, he filled me in. Ty had decided that his family should not only be with him at the ARIA awards but that they should take advantage of the suite of hotel rooms the record company had made available for his "people", reasoning that they seldom got to stay in swank hotels and would certainly relish the experience.
Ellie was back at Point Piper with the boys, and George had taken a great shine to them. Lachlan, he said, was every bit the proud papa, still mesmerised by his tiny sons and handling them like they were fine crystal. I was surprised to hear that Ellie would be accompanying Lachlan to the ARIAs, leaving George upstairs in their suite to mind Roddy and Matty. I smiled at the thought of Dot being convinced it was a good idea.
I was equally amazed to learn that Ty had provided a ticket for Simon to be with Scott at the awards presentation, and that Dot and Frank seemed to be accepting of Simon's relationship with Scott.
After he'd updated me on the family, George mentioned that Ty was well and keeping up a brave face, but he was "heartbroken".
"There's a sadness in his eyes when he's at home with just me," George said. "It's the same sadness I saw in your eyes the day we had lunch, sir."
Knowing he was right, I couldn't think of anything to say. George accepted the silence and ended the call saying, "You have to do what's right for you, sir. I just hope you'll come to realise that what's right for you is still living in Wolseley Road."
As an afterthought he added, "And I don't mean me!"
I spent a few minutes collecting my thoughts before ringing Steve, who was pleased to hear from me. He talked about his surprise at Ty's on air admission, assuring me that he had no idea it was going to happen.
"I guess he told Lachie and Scotty when they were in Sydney," Steve said. "Bloody brave thing to do, eh? And then when he said your name, I nearly fell off the couch. Lucky thing there are millions of Mikes!"
I asked whether Steve had seen `Who' and he hadn't. "I never read that shit," he chuckled. "So does this mean you're gonna end up a celebrity?"
"I hope not mate," I sighed. "I'm outta town at the moment though, just staying under the radar to be on the safe side."
Steve asked if I'd spoken to Lachlan or Scott. I told him that everything that had happened in the past few days and how, with so much on Ty's plate at the moment, I'd decided not to reach out to them for now. I asked him to let them know I was doing OK.
My next call was to dear Lynney, whom I'd not seen for such a long time. She was thrilled to hear from me and her first question was "Have you seen `Who' magazine?"
I told her I had, and straight away she said "You could sue them couldn't you, for inferring you've been having an affair with a client? Isn't that defamation?"
I took a deep breath. "It might be defamation if it wasn't true."
It took a moment or two for it to register. "Mike??" she squealed. "Tyson Hill was your BOYFRIEND?? Oh, my God! And you didn't tell me??"
"It's a long story Lynney," I sighed.
"Hey, I'm all curled up on the couch!" she replied. "Tell me the long story."
After getting her assurance that our conversation would go no further, I spilled the lot over the next half hour.
"That's so sad, Mikey," Lyn consoled. "It sounds like you were the perfect couple."
"Yeah, we were," I shrugged.
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you still love him?"
I'd always told Lyn the truth. "Yes, I do," I said softly. "You'll never know how much. But it just can't work."
"Where there's a will there's a way, Mike," Lyn assured me.
"Stop with the clichés already, sis," I replied. "Little bit by little bit, I'm coming to terms with the reality that it's over."
"So you're saying it's, um ... Love On the Rocks?" she chided.
"Oh Lynney," I grimaced. "That was nasty!"
We went on to discuss Steve and the way his life had turned around. "Once a month he makes a payment into my bank account," Lyn said. "He's determined to pay me back everything I loaned him."
"He's done the same with me," I said. "You can thank Ty's brother for the new Steve."
"Steve tells me he's in love!" she giggled.
"Yeah, Fran. She's Lachlan's wife's sister. She's a lovely girl."
"We're talking about the same guy aren't we? Mr. Fuck-Em-And-Forget-Em'?"
"Not anymore Lynney, he's really knuckled down. He's got a great job, a great girl, he's off the drugs and he's the happiest I've ever seen him. It's back to like it was when we were all still living at home."
"Wonders will never cease!" she laughed. "Now I just want to see you the happiest you've ever been and everything will be right!"
"I'm doing OK mate," I assured her. "Gotta go. I'm going to ring Dad now. You know, he was great when it all first unraveled. I even had my first discussion with him about my love life!"
"Give him my love," Lyn said. "And Mikey?"
"Yep?"
"Y'know I love ya!"
"I love you too, sis," I said honestly. "I hope we can catch up soon, and happy birthday for last Tuesday! I'll take you out for a slap-up meal when I finally get to see you!"
My call to Dad revealed a surprise; turns out he'd done a lot of thinking and a bit of research since we'd last spoken, which was when he advised me to walk away. "I looked him up on You Tube," he said. "I saw some of his little song movies, and some interviews, including that `Tonight' show where he mentioned you. He sure is handsome, and he came across like a real nice guy. If only the public knew ..."
"Knew what, Dad?"
"What an asshole he is in real life."
"Dad, Ty's not an asshole," I instinctively defended. "He's a `real nice guy', like you said."
"A real nice guy doesn't treat his mates like shit and then smack `em in the mouth, son."
I went on to fill dad in on my meeting with Ty's counsellor and he softened his stance for a while until I told him about the magazine witch hunt.
"See, he spells trouble for you Mike," Dad stated firmly. "If you stay with him, you'll be jeopardizing your own career. Nobody will take you seriously as a lawyer if you're seen as the latest groupie boyfriend of some rock star."
"I'm trying to not be offended by what you just said, Dad. Our relationship wasn't like that. I wasn't Ty's `latest'. I was the first and only gay relationship he's ever had."
"So he tells you!"
"Seriously Dad," I snarled. "I'm looking for support from you, not trivialization of my relationship with Ty, or for unfair criticism of him. Regardless of what's gone on between us, Ty's a beautiful person. He's a very decent man."
"Son," Dad sighed. "You asked me what I thought and I've told you. It sounds to me like you wish you were still with him, so go back to him if that's what you want."
To stop myself getting angry, I changed the subject and after a few half-hearted exchanges I hung up. I'd been doing well to that point but my call to Dad had left me feeling flat again. I knew he was playing the protective parent, but I thought it was unfair of him to infer that Ty was effectively using me.
I turned on the television, lay down on the couch and snoozed for a couple of hours. I had a beer on the balcony and then pottered around the kitchen in the early evening, tidying up and making steamed vegetables for dinner. I opened a bottle of Pinot Noir from Max's substantial cellar and returned to the balcony to watch the waves.
What a strange space I was in. I knew I needed to square my shoulders and start a new chapter in my life, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the previous chapter had not quite ended.
In my head I could hear and relate to a lyric from long ago; "I'm caught between goodbye and I love you, falling both ways, nowhere to land "* ...
I woke the following morning and hit the sand running. At the halfway mark I sat on the beach for a while and realised I didn't actually know what day it was, or even how long I'd been at Shoalhaven Heads. Five days? Six?
On the walk back to Max's house I decided it was time to return to Sydney. I didn't want to hide away from the media or anyone else. I needed to get my life back on track. I needed to feel thankful for the wonderful year I'd had with Ty, put it behind me and move forward with no regrets.
I needed to be working again, doing something challenging and absorbing. I thought about discussing with Max the possibility of returning to the firm's Melbourne office; moving back into my park-side apartment, rekindling my long-term friendships and seeing what life had in store for me. It was easier said than done, of that I was positive, but it was time.
I called Max to tell him I was coming back to town, but got his voicemail. I left him a long and thankful message and packed my bags. Late in the afternoon I locked up and alarmed the house and began the long drive home.
I was half listening to the radio, completely lost in my own thoughts. All was cruisy for the first hour of the drive, but the weather suddenly turned ugly. The sky got dark as the clouds followed through on their promise to burst and the freeway was suddenly deluged with sheets of rain. Traffic was reduced to a snail's pace from Wollongong and twice I had to turn up the radio to drown out the roll of thunder.
A major accident in Campbelltown brought traffic to a standstill and I was just starting to regret my decision to head home when the rain eased off and, after about 15 minutes, cars starting moving again.
I changed radio stations looking for news and stopped at one of the FM stations as Ty and Daniel's All You've Got to Give' came to an end. "Tyson Hill, on Mix 106.5," the announcer said. "Tyson laid em in the aisles at the AFI Awards earlier this week. The show airs tonight on Arena, at 7 o'clock."
Shit! I knew the ARIA Awards were coming, but I had completely forgotten that Ty was a guest performer at the AFI Awards. I glanced at the car clock and it was 6:22. No way would I be back at my apartment in time to see the program. I cursed and punched the steering wheel, and then spent a few seconds trying to figure out why I really cared so much. I slumped in my seat and sighed.
I turned the radio off and drove in silence through the outer Sydney suburbs. I hit another patch of heavy traffic in Surry Hills as the rain started to drizzle again. Parked at lights, my eyes wandered to a hoarding for the Dolphin Hotel on Crown Street. I'd called in there once to pick up wine when Ty and I were on this side of town. It was a blokey pub, with a giant TV screen in the main bar. It catered for the sports crowd at the weekend, but through the week the TV was set to screen the `big' events, the high-rating reality shows, the cooking program finals ... and awards broadcasts. Maybe ...
First chance I got, I pulled off the freeway and headed up Foveaux Street, turning left on Crown. I parked my car, wandered into the bar, and ordered a light beer. Fortuitously, the TV was set to Arena and the lifestyle program that had started at 6:00 was back from the break with its final segment. I sipped my beer and scanned the room. There were the usual barflies, a few couples enjoying a drink before heading into the bistro for dinner, and a few of the `let's-catch-up-for-a-drink-after-work' brigade.
The only vacant table was down at the front of the room, next to a table where four young guys in bad suits were enjoying frosty ales. I picked up the Daily Telegraph and sauntered over as casually as I could, nodding to them and then sitting and opening the newspaper.
The voiceover at the end of the lifestyle program did a station I.D. and then announced "coming up next, the Australian film industry's night of nights, the AFI Awards, hosted by Hugh Jackman and featuring performances by Sarah Blasko, Human Nature and Tyson Hill."
The conversation at the next table stopped.
"Tyson Hill's showing his face?" asked Bad Suit 1. "He's game!"
"No, he's gay," said Bad Suit 2 and they all hooted.
"That was a fuckin' surprise, eh?" said Bad Suit 3. "Who'd have picked him for a poof?"
Bad Suit 4 looked a bit annoyed. "Who cares? He's still a fuckin' great singer!" Naturally that led 1 and 2 to the inevitable ribbing: "Hey, methinks Jonno fancies Tyson Hill! ..."
Thankfully they fell quiet when the show started and Hugh Jackman did his opening routine. He set up the fact that the evening's guest performers had all picked a movie theme song that meant something to them, before introducing "Australia's greatest male vocalist, bar none -- the amazing Tyson Hill!"
The stage lit up at the same time as the band struck up and when Ty walked on I fell back in my seat and exhaled. He looked ... stunning. His face was beautiful, his hair had grown a bit and his curls were ... curlier, and for the first-time ever he was wearing a dinner suit for a stage performance. I knew straight away it was a Hugo Boss. In fact, he was wearing my Hugo Boss dinner suit, which I'd forgotten to pack.
To thunderous applause he walked on stage holding a hand microphone, stood in a spotlight in front of the band and started to sing ...
"When I think back on these times, and the dreams we left behind, I'll be glad `cos I was blessed to get to have you in my life ..."**
I knew the song but couldn't place it. When Ty got to the chorus, "In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky ..." I remembered. It was the theme from `Pearl Harbour', the Ben Affleck and Kate Beckinsale war drama which Ty and I had so enjoyed on the Sunshine Coast one night when we snuggled in bed after an exhausting bout of lovemaking.
He hit his stride as he prowled the stage, building the song with his overwhelmingly powerful voice. I felt a shiver run through me and unexpectedly started to well up when he hit the bridge: "Cos I always saw in you my life, my strength, and I want to thank you now for all the ways, you were right there for me ..."
And then it hit me like a tsunami. Ty was saying goodbye to me!
When he got to the key change, my stomach lurched and I felt faint, almost nauseous. I was aware that the tears welling in my eyes had started to spill, and Bad Suits 2 and 3 were looking at me very strangely.
As the television audience rose to his feet and Ty took his bows, I noisily slid my chair back and stood, a little unsteady on my feet. I picked up my wallet and keys and moved quickly through the room to the bar doors aware of how many eyes were following me.
In the street I leaned forward, rested my hands on my knees and breathed deeply, only vaguely aware of the rain that was pelting down on me.
I ran to my car, jumped in and slammed the door, and there outside the Dolphin I leaned across the steering wheel and started to sob. It's not like I didn't know it was all coming to this, but there was something so final about hearing that lyric and knowing that once and for all, Ty was letting go.
I cried it out until my ribs hurt and then demisted the windows, started the car and got back into the traffic. I was almost home when my mobile rang and I pulled off the road into a parking lot.
"How did you go driving in that downpour?" Max asked.
My voice choked. "I'm fine," I said shakily.
"Oh. I take it you saw the AFI Awards?"
"Yes," I sobbed, as the waterworks started again.
"Are you OK Mike? You want me to come over?"
"I'm in the car," I managed. "I'm not home yet."
"Come to my place. We'll have some cheesecake."
"No Max. I want to go home," I said quickly, before adding, "but thanks."
"I'll come to you then. I'll get some Japanese takeaway ..."
"No really Max," I sniffled. "I need to be on my own. I have to go. Thanks mate."
I disconnected the call and blew my nose. I tried to compose myself, but I'd never felt so wretched in my whole life.
I was about to start the engine when my mobile rang again. Max just doesn't give up. I picked up the phone and was about to cancel the call when I noticed it was Steve ringing. I picked it up.
"Hey Mike, you OK?" my brother asked tentatively.
It was a few seconds before I could answer. "Yeah, I'm good," I squeaked in a voice that sounded pathetic even to my ears.
"You don't sound it."
"Yeah, well, you know. Bad day."
"Where are you?"
"Surry Hills."
"You're driving?"
"Parked."
"I guess you saw the AFIs?"
"Yes," I squeaked again.
"I'm at the Intercontinental. We're all here, except Ty. He's been staying at Point Piper to keep out of the way of the media. Let me come and get you."
"No, don't!" I insisted. "I'm OK. I just need to get home."
"And do what? Drown in misery?"
I started to sob. "He said goodbye to me. It's really over."
Steve remained calm. "He was saying goodbye because the only message you've given him for weeks is you want no contact with him. He's had to accept it."
"I know," I blubbered.
"I'm gonna ask you this again, Mikey. Is this what you really want?"
"No, it's not, but it can't work, Steve. It just can't. When I heard him sing tonight I realised again what a gift he has. He's not just a good singer, he's a star. He doesn't need me holding him back. He's got to move on and realise his dream."
Steve's sigh was audible. "You're being a bit theatrical aren't you mate?"
"Fuck you!" I snapped. "Do you know how hard this has been for me?"
It was Steve's turn to snap, and he shocked me. "You got any fucking idea how hard it's been for Tyson? He's the one who's compromised for the record company, he's the one who's seeking professional help, and you haven't got the balls to look him in the eye and tell him it's over."
"I TOLD HIM IT WAS OVER AT THE MEDIATION WITH THE RECORD COMPANY," I yelled.
"Good for you, Mike!" he spat back sarcastically. "And then you cut him off at the knees."
"That's so unfair!" I snarled. "Are you forgetting what he put me through?"
"Yeah right, Mike! I've got four words for you."
"What?"
"HE ... FUCKING ... LOVES ... YOU!"
Incensed, I smashed the cancel button on the phone and tossed it onto the floor. How the fuck could Steve -- with so many fleeting, failed relationships behind him - possibly understand what I was going through? I never expected sympathy, but a little understanding wasn't too much to ask, surely?
I clenched my fists and fumed. I told myself that I had to stop listening to what everyone else in `the family' was telling me. I knew our time was up and I did something about it. I was the only one who was actually seeing things as they really were and was endeavouring to put the past behind me.
I told myself I'd proved these past few weeks that I could live without Ty. I'd begun to sow the seeds of a new life and I shouldn't be expected to keep looking back. Besides, I ...
A huge, wracking sob escaped me as reality punched me in the guts.
Who the fuck was I kidding?
Did I believe Ty loved me? Of course I did ...
Did I love Ty? More than anything -- ANYTHING - in the world ...
Did Ty and I have a future together? You bet your sweet fucking ass we did. What we had together was strong enough to survive any hurdle.
If I hadn't left it too late ...
I turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine. I lingered a moment to work out how to get to the Intercontinental, before remembering that Steve had said Ty was staying at the house.
I unlocked the hand-brake and stepped on the accelerator, roaring out of the car park onto the highway, collecting a kerb-side garbage bin in the process. As the rain pelted down I did a dangerous U-turn to the sound of angry honking horns and headed recklessly towards New South Head Road.
It was hard enough to see the road through the rain pelting my windscreen, but the tears stinging my eyes made it almost impossible. For someone who seldom cried, I'd shed more tears these past couple of months than I had my entire life.
Fifteen minutes later my car screamed around the corner into Wolseley Road. My brakes screeched in the driveway of the house I'd called home with the man I was desperately hoping to find inside.
Leaving my ringing phone on the floor, I stepped outside and locked the car. I realised I was drenched as I leapt up the front steps and reached into my pocket, only to realise I no longer had a front door key. I brushed my clothes and shook the rain out of my hair before thumping loudly and insistently on the door.
Lights were on towards the back of the house and the foyer lights flicked on as the front door swung open. I saw the look of shock on dear George's face as he gasped, "Good God! Mr. Stewart! ..."
Always happy to have your feedback. marcusis32@live.com.au
FOOTNOTE:
You can hear other versions of songs referenced in this chapter via the following links:
- "I'm Caught Between Goodbye And I Love You" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHYvbV5TM54
** "There You'll Be" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbrRxl7Q2Yk