The Gift
Nexis Pas Copyright 2008 by the author Nexis Pas asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
`There's a package for you, Mr Bryant.'
James sighed as the resident manager of the building lifted a large box from beneath his counter. James recognized it as a gift from Taz immediately. This was the first one in three or four months. He thought Taz had finally become discouraged and stopped sending him presents. `Thank you, Henry.'
`Couldn't help but notice it's from Fern's Unlimited, Mr Bryant. The wife likes her programme on the telly. Doesn't miss a show.'
`I've never watched it, Henry. The package is from a friend. He thinks my flat needs more colour.'
Henry composed his face into the blank look that was his way of indicating that he disapproved of this or that aspect of a flat owner's life. In this case, he was trying to hide his dislike of James's life and friends--his gay life and his gay friends. James tossed his mail atop the box and picked it up. Even though James's hands were full and he had to balance the box carefully to avoid spilling his letters on the floor, he had to press the elevator button for himself. Henry could have reached the button in one step, but he suddenly found a spot on the floor that required his attention. As the door to the elevator closed, James made a mental note to himself to raise the issue of Henry's continued employment at the next owners' meeting. More than a third of the tenants are gay, thought James, and we don't need an employee who thinks we're sinners.
All of which, James knew, was just a way of delaying thinking about the box and who had sent it. Another gift from Taz. Another demand for attention that James did not want to supply. Another attempt to make a claim on James that James had no intention of acknowledging.
He set the box on the table in the hallway and then dropped his mail on a chair in the living room. He changed out of his suit, poured himself a generous glass of wine, and then sat down on the sofa to look through his mail. He sorted out the bills and the junk mail and stacked them into separate piles. His mother's letter occupied his attention for two minutes. He quickly scanned her weekly report on the weather and his sister's family. Once she had mistakenly sent him the letter destined for his sister, and he had discovered to his amusement that it contained the same news about the weather and a report on his activities. She had summarised the contents of the letter he had written her the week before. He surmised that the information on his sister derived from a letter she had written their mother. There was a postcard from Oliver and Lucas. They were enjoying their holiday in Italy. Florence was stupendous. They were eating too much, but the food was too good to resist--and the waiters were so handsome one had to eat more to make them return again and again. James stood up and carried the mail to his desk. He tore the envelopes with the junk mail in half and threw them away. The bills went into the cubbyhole reserved for them. He set his mother's letter and the postcard on the desk. He would reread them later.
He knew that he was avoiding the box on the hall table. While he was standing there, a thought occurred to him. He pulled open the centre drawer and found a black marking pen. He crossed into the hall and wrote `RETURN TO SENDER' in thick letters on top of the box and then circled the address for Fern's Unlimited and drew three arrows pointing at it. He would leave the box with Henry tomorrow morning as he left for work. He recapped the pen and regarded his handiwork with satisfaction. He wished he had thought of that sooner. Better to return these unwanted objects than stack them in the hall closet. He would take Taz's other gifts down to his car this Saturday when he went out to do the weekly shopping and leave them at the charity donations shop on Bow Street.
The first time they met, James had been by himself at Capers watching the dancers. One of them in particular attracted his attention. In the dim light, he looked barely old enough to be allowed in the pub. He was a cute boy, dark-haired, short, nice smile. He had on a trilby hat, so old that the brim was ragged and the crown crushed on one side. He wore a tie around his neck and a waistcoat from a suit over his bare chest. The waistcoat was unbuttoned, and it and the tie swung with every move he made. The couple in front of James moved out of the way, and James stepped forward till he was at the edge of the dance floor. The boy was a much better dancer than average.
The boy was dancing alone, circling the outer edge of the dance floor. As he danced, he mouthed the words to the song being played. When he passed James, he looked up and saw James watching him. He smiled and then reached out and pulled James onto to the dance floor with both hands. He lifted James's arms and put James's hands behind his neck so that James was grasping him by the back of his neck. `Hi, I'm . . .' The boy apparently said his name, but just at that moment the music jumped in volume and drowned him out.
James bent over slightly and said, I'm James,' in the lad's ear. In answer he found himself grasped securely around the waist and a very lithe firm young body pressed up against him. He felt the boy's hot breath through the fabric of his shirt as he sang along with the record, No matter what they tell us,' in a falsetto voice. Now that they were closer, James could see that the boy was a few years older than he had thought—closer to twenty-five than to eighteen. His height and his looks were deceptive. Still, James found it hard to think of him as anything other than a boy.
After they had danced a few more numbers, James asked the boy if he wanted to go back to his flat. He didn't often do that. That night lust overcame his usual scruples about inviting a stranger into his flat. The boy laughed with delight. He pulled James over to a table, grabbed a leather jacket off the back of a chair, squeezed the shoulder of one of the men sitting at the table, and then drew James outside. The two of them almost sprinted to James's building.
When James unlocked the door, he showed the boy into his living room and asked if he wanted a glass of wine. `All I have' he explained. The boy shook his head. He took off his jacket and lay it over the back of one of the chairs. That was the first thing he did that irritated James. He didn't like the casual way the black jacket intruded into his life. James picked up the jacket and went back into the entrance hallway to hang it in the closet. When he returned, he found the boy examining the room. He didn't bother to hide his curiosity. He walked about touching the furniture and lifting things to take a closer look at them. James got the sense that the room somehow disappointed him.
The boy drew a finger along the spines of James's CD collection. He seemed to find nothing he liked. `You're not a fan of recent music then?' James shook his head no. The boy's accent grated on his nerves. Irish, James thought, he could be Irish with those looks. Ah, well, a sexy body was a sexy body. It wasn't as if he were going to have an intellectual discussion with the boy.
James was beginning to find the boy's presence invasive. He decided that they should proceed to the main business and then he would find some excuse to get rid of the boy as soon as they had finished. The boy had other plans, however. He was in no hurry, and he proved to be so good in bed that James felt no need to hurry matters along either. They had fallen asleep in a tangle of sheets and limbs.
James awoke the next morning to the sound of the water in the shower striking a body. The volume and the quality of the sound varied as the boy turned about. It irritated him further that the boy hadn't even asked permission. Shortly the water was turned off and then a few minutes later the boy emerged from the bathroom patting his hair dry with one of James's towels. We overslept. I've got a meeting in half an hour. I'm sorry, but I have to leave right away. Then I'm back to London. I wrote my mobile number down for you.' The boy pointed to the pad beside the bedroom phone. I don't get to Brighton often, but give me a call if you're going to be in London. Maybe we can get together.'
James picked the pad up. It contained only the single word Taz' and the phone number. Is that your name? Taz? I couldn't hear it last night when you said it.'
You don't know who I am, do you?' The boy's face lit up with a smile. That's wonderful.'
`Should I know you?'
No. It's great that you don't. I don't often get that kind of privacy.' The boy babbled happily on as he pulled on his clothes. He reminded James of some pet bird chirping in the morning. When he was dressed, he walked over to James and gave him a final hug. I'll get my coat and let myself out.' Then he was gone. A few seconds later James heard the door to his flat open and close.
James walked into the hallway and turned the deadbolt to lock it. On the way back to the bedroom, he checked the living room to make sure that everything was there. The pillow on the sofa lay flat on the middle cushion. At one point while they had chatted briefly the previous evening, Taz has picked it up and held it against his stomach, kneading it. James patted it back into shape and then placed it back in its proper place in the left corner.
The bathroom was still steamy from Taz's shower. He turned the exhaust fan on and spread the towel Taz has used out on the rack to dry. It annoyed him that he couldn't put it in the dirty clothes hamper immediately and thus remove all reminders to Taz's presence. There were a couple of black hairs stuck to the soap in the bath. He picked the dish holding the soap up by its base and tilted the soap into the waste basket in the bathroom and then unwrapped a fresh bar and replaced it.
The bedroom still held the faint odour of sex. James pulled the sheets off the bed and stuffed them into the washing machine off the kitchen. He consulted the back panel on the box of detergent and added the maximum amount recommended for `heavily soiled items'. It took him only a few minutes to remove all traces of Taz from his flat. He ended by tearing the sheet of paper with Taz's number off the pad and ripping it into several pieces before throwing it away.
His reaction wasn't unusual for him after one of his occasional visits to a gay pub. He often felt revulsion toward a partner after sex. He hated to be reminded of his `physical' needs, and the ruttishness that overcame him sometimes. He wished there were some way to satisfy these needs without lowering himself to picking someone up in a bar.
He found, however, that it was easier to erase Taz from his flat than from his life. The first indication came later that day when Andrew rang him. I hear you got very lucky last night and took home the prize.' James could almost hear the smirk in Andrew's voice. You must come round and tell us all about Taz. You'll be able to dine out on that story for months.'
`Who? What are you talking about, Andrew?'
`Taz.'
`Who is Taz?'
`Taz. The man you were dancing with last night. The man you left Capers with. Everyone is quite jealous about your conquest. Didn't you recognise him? Oh, this is delicious. You don't know, do you? He's the lead singer in the Ballymun Lads. That's a famous boy band, in case you didn't know. Were you in such a hurry that you didn't exchange names or information about each other? I wouldn't have thought you such a slut, James. This is a new side of you. Your reputation increased immeasurably last night after being seen with him. The man who bedded Taz. Everyone will want to touch you now.' Andrew laughed gleefully. James had the feeling that many others would soon be laughing at his expense. He rang off as soon as he could.
The next reminder of Taz came several days later. A large package was waiting for him when he arrived home. Inside, within a thick casing of moulded Styrofoam was another box. When he opened that, he found a bright red glass vase. He set it on the table in the living room, and it immediately caught all the light and covered the walls and furniture with blotches of red light. James had carefully chosen all the furnishings in the room in consultation with a designer. The muted shades of taupe and ecru and oatmeal suited his tastes. The only touches of colour were the painting over the fireplace, which was done in shades of blue, and the pale blue pillow on the sofa, which had been intended to compliment the colours in the painting. The vase was so jarring that it was if someone had tossed a can of red paint into the room. To James's mind, it was lurid and ostentatious.
It wasn't until he was clearing away the wrappings that he found the card. `The other night was more important to me than you can imagine. It taught me something about myself that I should have learned a long time before. With gratitude and love, Taz. PS. The vase is from Venice. I bought it the last time the band toured Europe.'
The `love' and the presumptuousness of the gift galled James. The casual reference to the band touring Europe also betrayed Taz's assumption that he had made an effort to find out who Taz was. The fact that Taz was right irked him even more. After speaking with Andrew, he had searched for the band on the Internet and read the article on them in Wikipedia. He had even watched one of their videos on YouTube. As he expected from the apparent number of copies of their music that had been sold, he found the music insipid and uninteresting.
He tossed the card away and repacked the vase. The box was set at the back of the hall closet. Taz called that night wanting to know if he had received the gift. It wasn't until the phone rang and he heard Taz's voice that he realised that Taz had not only sought out his full name and address but his phone number as well. He thanked Taz perfunctorily and then cut short Taz's enquiries about his activities since the night they had been together with the excuse that he would be late for a meeting if they talked further.
The vase was only the first of many gifts to arrive over the next two weeks. Each was followed by a phone call in which Taz tried to interest James in his life. After the third gift, James stopped answering the phone and began screening the calls through his answering machine. He felt as if he were being stalked, his own nightmarish version of a celebrity stalker. Taz took to leaving messages on his answering machine at odd hours. After one such call, James waited to call the number Taz left until he knew from the list of concerts dates and times on the Ballymun Lads' website that Taz and his group were performing. He hoped that he would reach Taz's voicemail. If anyone answered, he planned to pretend it was a wrong number. He had rehearsed the message he wanted to leave. `Taz, thank you for all the gifts. But really I can't accept any more. I'm sorry, but I don't have any interest in a relationship.'
The message had the desired effect. The gifts and the calls stopped. James was both relieved and a bit disappointed. They had been an annoyance, and he was glad that he had discouraged Taz. Still, it was almost flattering to be desired by someone who, if the stories in the papers were correct, was thought desirable by millions, even if most of them were prepubescent girls and young teens. He had to admit that he could understand Taz's attractions after he had watched a video in which the camera had lingered on his face. After a few listens, he found himself humming the song. It was a catchy tune, although the lyrics were saccharine and puerile. But, he told himself, he was better off out of it. He had been wise to break it off before anything serious started. The YouTube video of the Late Late Show interview with Taz had made the young man's intellectual and social limitations clear. Well, what could you expect from a boy from a Dublin council estate?
James even made the encounter into an amusing anecdote--his evening with someone he discovered only later to be a famous person. The self-deprecating humour with which he revealed his utter ignorance of popular music sounded perfect to his ears. He was even careful not to tell the story too often, lest he be thought to be boasting of his conquest. Only three selected groups of different people got to hear it firsthand. He knew his auditors well enough to trust them to spread the word.
The morning after receiving the last gift, he handed it back to Henry with instructions to give it to the parcel delivery man on his next appearance. That Saturday he removed the other boxes of gifts from the hall closet and left them with the woman in the charity resale shop on the way to the market. He warned her that the red vase was Venetian glass and `might be' quite valuable. He didn't tell her that it was a gift from Taz, which would, he imagined, have increased its resale value considerably. He thought it commendable of himself not to boast of the relationship.
He almost missed the announcement. It came at the end of the news. The reader with the curly blond hair--James could never remember her name--beamed at the camera in the way that indicated that the next story would be light-hearted. `Four hundred lucky people received a present this week and an invitation to what promises to be one of the most spectacular events of this year. Taz, the lead singer of the Ballymun Lads and the heart throb of teenage girls everywhere, and his long-time companion Patrick Door announced their upcoming civil union ceremony by sending a crystal sculpture specially designed by their good friend Fern Holmes to four hundred of their friends along with an invitation to attend the ceremony.'
The screen briefly showed an irregularly shaped slab of crystal with a faint mist of opaque glass in the middle. The image then shifted to a street scene. Taz and another young man stood with their arms around each other's waists. Both were smiling and laughing. Well,' said Taz, we decided that after four years we knew each other well enough to know that we wanted to make our commitment formal.'
The man interviewing them pointed the microphone toward himself. `Earlier this year there were rumours that the two of you had separated.'
The young man with Taz shrugged and looked serious for a second. `Yeah, we went through a bit of a rough patch. We both dated other people for a week or so, but then we talked it over and found that nobody else came close to meaning as much to us. We know what's important now.'
James snapped the television off just as Taz looked up and smiled radiantly at his partner. His look of adoration lingered for a second on the screen and then abruptly disappeared, leaving only the reflection of James's face.