This work is copyright. I have given permission for a copy of this story to be placed on the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement. But This work may not be copied or archived onto any other website or newsgroup without the prior written permission of the author.
This story is fiction, it didn't happen, to the best of the author's knowledge no one in the story exists in real life.
If you have a problem with reading stories of a homosexual nature, then bugger off. Also you shouldn't read on if you are below the age of consent, or you have the misfortune to reside in an area where reading and downloading this kind of material is against the law.
Thanks to Lars, John and Tom W for their editorial help.
Chapter 10
Carl awoke slowly, his mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage. He'd overindulged big time the previous evening, hoping the alcohol would somehow drown his sorrows. It hadn't, in fact Carl's inebriated state had made things worse, far worse.
Hearing the creaking of door hinges; Carl looked over to see the bedroom door opening to admit a woman dressed only in underskirt and knickers. The former being partially caught in the latter.
Carl then remembered that he'd drawn the attention of one of the women who was drinking at the bar the previous night. He recalled buying her numerous drinks; strangely enough he remembered that she'd drunk Rum and Coke's, in frighteningly large quantities, too. Through the fog of his hangover, Carl remembered kissing her, which eventually grew into heavy petting. His mates, who hadn't been as fortunate in finding female companionship, had egged Carl on, telling him that he ought to get a room. Carl remembered staggering upstairs with her. Though everything else after that remained a blank.
"God, the bogs in this place are filthy," the woman said, her face a sneer of disgust.
She was, Carl thought, in her early forties, she had drooping bags under her eyes, the remains of the previous night's overly applied make-up still on her face. Her long blonde hair, the colour had been achieved artificially, lay in untidy strands down her back. Carl closed his eyes. 'What have I done?'
"Nice to see you conscious," the woman said too loudly for Carl's comfort. "You soon flaked out last night. Men, bloody useless the lot of you."
"What happened?" Carl croaked softly. His head began to pound; he closed his eyes wishing the whole dreadful scene would just go away.
"Well, you had a bit of brewer's droop, took me a while to get it up, you were okay then for a bit, but why do all men just pass out once they've cum? No staying power, and you call us the weaker sex."
"Oh god," Carl moaned.
The woman moved around the room, picking up her discarded clothing, putting them on as she went. Once dressed, she sat on the edge of the bed, got out a powder compact and attempted to repair the damage to her face.
"Better get going, I don't suppose I could get a lift to Helmswaite, could I?" the woman said, snapping the compact closed.
Carl groaned again. The full impact of what he'd been up to was beginning to filter through his fuzzy head.
"No, thought not. Men, neither use nor bloody ornament." She moved to the door. "Well, I whish I could say it'd been a pleasure, love, but I'm a good Catholic girl, and I can't lie. One piece of advice though," she said fixing her gaze on Carl. "Whoever Rob is, he's a lucky bugger."
"Huh?" Carl, who'd had his eyes temporarily closed to block out the sunlight, which was streaming through the window, snapped them open and gazed at the woman in shock.
"When you came, you cried out 'Rob, love you babe,' then, as I said, you fell fast asleep. Took me ages to shift you off of me, it did. Then in the night you kept rubbing up against me moaning out Rob's name."
Carl's mouth dropped open.
"My friend Sally was right. All the best men are either married, or queer." Her voice softened. "If you'll take another bit of advice from me, love. Stop pretending. If you like men, then just stick to 'em." She closed the door behind her.
Carl lay in the bed, his mouth still open in shock. He couldn't even recall asking the woman her name.
Several cups of black coffee at the pub had restored Carl to semi-normality. He'd refused the offer of a fried breakfast, he just couldn't face it. Drawing up outside Robbie's house, Carl beeped his horn. To his relief, Ben poked his head out of the door. Seeing that Carl wasn't getting out of the van, Ben walked slowly down the few steps and over to the van.
Robbie was inside the house. He couldn't go through being brushed off by Carl yet again. He had told Ben to be ready to go, just in case his dad wanted to get straight off home.
Robbie heard Carl's van drive away. He had resisted the urge to peek at the driveway through the window. He sat dejectedly on the sofa, wondering why Carl was behaving as he was. Carl had been distant for a week now, Robbie was becoming increasingly desperate about where he and Carl were heading.
Robbie knew that he'd do anything for Carl, but it seemed that for some unknown reason, Carl didn't want to know. Rising to his feet, Robbie went into the kitchen for his elevenses. Seeing him so upset, Sarah just put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. There was nothing she could say, but, by God, there was plenty she could and would say to that Carl Powers when she next encountered him.
Robbie hadn't seen or heard anything from Carl for the rest of the weekend. His slumber was interrupted on Monday morning by the ringing of the telephone. Robbie hadn't managed to get to sleep until the wee small hours, so it took him a couple of seconds to get his bearings. He fumbled for the bedside telephone, looking blurry eyed at the alarm clock; he saw it was half past six. "Hello?"
"Rob, it's me."
"Who's me?" Robbie said, his mind still thick with sleep.
"Carl."
"What's wrong, is everything okay?" Robbie was instantly alert; he could only conclude that the reason why Carl was ringing him was because he was about to impart some bad news.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just ringing to let you know I won't be bringing Ben over today."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, mum and dad said they'd take him." Carl had asked his mother when the pair had gone for lunch the previous day. Whilst his mother had been delighted to spend some time with her grandson, she'd questioned Carl as to why Ben wasn't going to Robbie's as usual. Carl made up something about how he thought his mother would like to see him for a change.
"Oh right, you know that I...," Robbie began to say only to have Carl cut him off.
"Look, I'll have to get going now." Carl hung up before Robbie could say anything else.
Robbie stared at the instrument; he couldn't understand what was happening. He'd taken things very slowly with Carl, constantly asking him if things were moving too quickly. All Robbie had done was to love Carl to the best of his ability. Although Carl hadn't said that the relationship was over, the fact that he had cut himself off and had now withdrawn Ben, too, was a fair indication of his feelings.
Robbie moped around the house throughout the morning. He'd snapped at Jean, the cleaner, because of some perceived minor problem. He'd instantly regretted his outburst, and spent the next few minutes in abject apology. Sarah had stepped in and whisked Mrs Rowlands away, explaining that "Mr Robert," she'd slipped back into the formal form of address when discussing her employer with the cleaner, "is under a fair bit of strain at the minute."
Needing some fresh air, Robbie decided to take himself off for a long walk. It had been some time since he'd walked down the other side of the hill, taking him further away from the town. He ambled slowly down the slope. It was another warm day; Robbie wished he'd brought along a drink, but then he remembered the small stream at the bottom of the hill. He had no idea if the water was still drinkable, but he thought he'd chance it anyway. It seemed that no matter where he went, everything seemed to remind him of Carl. He remembered when the pair had been schoolboys. Carl would leap over the stream; it looked such an insignificant body of water now, but back then it had taken all Robbie's strength to jump over it. Though he remembered that Carl had never mocked him for his reluctance to take part in physical activities.
Re-enacting the scene from his childhood, Robbie leapt over the stream. He wasn't sure if it had shrunk in size, due perhaps to some of the water being diverted up-stream, or was it that Robbie was now gazing upon the scene as an adult, because it took him no effort at all to gain the other side. Robbie realised that he was being foolish. There was a perfectly good footbridge only a few yards further downstream. It had been there for years, but Robbie remembered Carl wanted to show off, so he'd jumped the stream instead, and of course he'd followed along behind, like a faithful dog.
Kneeling on the bank, Robbie cupped his hands into the water, and scooped some up to drink. He then stood up and resumed his walk. He found it very pleasant to amble along the many footpaths, watching the cows slowly chew their cud. After about an hour's walking, he leant against a dry stone wall and rested for a while. He revelled in his peaceful surroundings; he listened to the birds chirping, insects lazily buzzing around pollinating the flowers, and the slight breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Robbie felt the tranquillity of his surroundings seep into his troubled mind, leaving him far calmer. After a few minutes rest, he reversed direction and slowly made his way back home.
Robbie tried to divert himself with work, but it was no use, he just couldn't concentrate. He played a few games on the PC, something he'd often done with Ben. This took him up to teatime, which was served at the usual time of 5 pm; there was little point in delaying things for Carl. During the previous weeks they'd eaten later, delaying the meal until Carl had returned from Boroughton, however given recent events, it was a fair bet that Carl wouldn't be coming round.
After tea, Robbie went into the library to choose a book. He tried a Jane Austen novel, but he soon lost interest in it. He concluded that although Austen's literary style had merit, when you boiled it down the book was just about a group of bored upper-middle class women, who filled their empty and pointless existences discussing what they should wear or whom they could marry. Closing the volume, Robbie put it back in its place on the shelf. He went into the drawing room and switched on the TV. He hoped that watching something mindless would help; it didn't. Robbie turned off the set and switched on the Hi-Fi. The CD player began to churn out the music that he and Carl had listened to the Saturday before last. He realised that he hadn't taken the disc out of the player since then. He sat on the sofa listening to the romantic music. Closing his eyes, Robbie tried to recapture some of the gloriously wonderful scene of only a few days earlier, when all seemed right and good in his world.
About half an hour into the disc, a song began to play; it was Andy Williams singing 'Promise Me Love', Robbie's heart ached at the memories, which the words began to evoke.
Promise me love, promise me Kisses sweet love, meant for me Promise me love That you'll love me tenderly Oh love, promise me (promise me)
Promise me love, promise me (oh, promise me) Arms to hold love, never set me free (oh, promise me) Promise me love That you'll love me tenderly Oh love, promise me (oh, promise me)
I promise you blue cornflowers for your hair A golden necklace and my heart I swear I promise you a million promises I'd do And they'll come true Oh love, I promise you.
{Words and Music by Kay Thompson}
Robbie began to weep. On that Saturday night, when the song had begun to play, Carl had turned to Robbie, and reiterated the promise that he'd given to him that he would continue to tell him that he loved him.
Despite Robbie frequently professing his love to Carl over the past few days, it seemed Carl hadn't been able to return those three words. To Robbie, they were the most precious sounding three words in the English language, 'I love you.'
The song ended and another one began. Robbie's tears eventually ceased. Had it been just over a week ago? It seemed like a lifetime had passed since that wonderful night. Rising from the sofa, Robbie stopped the CD player, took out the disc and replaced it in its jewel case, returning it to its position on the shelf.
As Sarah was in her own part of the house watching TV, Robbie walked upstairs, slowly making his way to the master bedroom. He thought about moving back into his old room again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue sleeping in the bed that he'd shared with Carl. But he was too tired to do anything about it that evening. Though despite his tiredness, Robbie didn't think that he'd be able to sleep yet again.
Deciding to take a bath, Robbie added a few drops of essential oil to the tub; he hoped the reputed properties of the substance would have their desired relaxing effect. After a decent soak, he padded himself dry and crawled into bed. However as expected, he couldn't get comfortable. He wasn't able to answer the burning question in his brain as to why Carl was ignoring him. Surely it couldn't be some kind of perverse payback for the time when Robbie had cut off contact with Carl when the two had been eighteen? 'No,' Robbie realised, 'Carl would never be so intentionally cruel,' but how cruel was his current situation?
Looking at the bedside clock, Robbie saw it read a little after half past nine. 'Carl should be at home now, unless he'd decided to work over again.' With shaking fingers Robbie began to dial. The phone rang six times before the call was answered, though he was dismayed to realise that he'd got the machine. He was about to hang up, but decided he'd leave a message anyway, perhaps it might be easier to pour out his feelings to an impersonal object.
"Carl, it's me." Robbie tried to keep the nervous tension out of his voice. "I don't know what's happening to us. Is there still an us? I know you've been putting in some long hours, love, maybe that's the reason why you've been so, so, so...," Robbie choked back a sob. "Carl, you remember that evening in the pool room after Ben brought us together? I asked you to make me a promise to keep on telling me that you loved me. Carl, my beautiful and precious Carl, I have to ask, do you still feel that way about me? Because I promise you I love you, I love you so very much." Robbie was beginning to lose it. He cleared his throat. "I've had two very special nights alone with you. It's not much to show for a love that's lasted almost twenty years, but if it's all I'm ever going to get, then, well, I'll treasure those two nights forever. Please, please Carl if you, if you don't... Well if you no longer love me, please tell me. The not knowing, it's killing me inside, it honestly is." Robbie broke down completely, he managed to get the receiver back on its cradle on the third attempt, before throwing himself across the bed, fiercely clinging to the pillow that Carl had once rested his head upon.
At the Powers' house, Carl was upstairs tucking his son into bed.
"Dad, I wanna go back to Uncle Rob's tomorrow. It was boring at grandma and granddad's today, and grandma's working tomorrow anyway."
"I don't think that's a good idea, son."
"Why, I haven't fallen out with him, even if you have." Ben had had enough of treading carefully around his dad.
"You'll do as you're told," Carl snapped.
"I'm fed up with it. You and Uncle Rob were getting on great. Then you just seemed to freeze him out. He's been trying his best to put on a smile for me this past week, but I know he's hurting inside a lot, and you're doing the hurting, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong, and neither do I."
"It's none of your business." Carl hadn't been sleeping well over the past few days, and it was the strain that had caused him to lose his temper with his son.
"It is my business. I got you together, don't forget."
"And I wish you hadn't, it's caused lots of trouble."
"Yeah, for Rob. All that man's ever done is to love you, and look how you're treating him," Ben flashed back.
Carl raised his hand to lash out and Ben flinched away in fear. Carl saw the shock in his son's eyes; he sank to his knees at the side of Ben's bed, mortified at what he'd almost done. Ever since Carl had first held Ben in his arms, he'd given his son a promise that he would never hit him; he'd be a better father to Ben than his own dad had been to him. "Oh God, Ben, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Ben immediately leapt out of bed and wrapped his arms around his father. "It's okay, dad."
"I almost hit you, son. Ben, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It's alright, dad, honest, it's alright, I love you dad, please dad, I love you."
Both men were weeping as they knelt on the bedroom floor.
"You can't go on like this dad, it's hurting you inside," Ben said wiping the tears from his eyes.
"I know," Carl said sniffing back his remaining tears.
"What's it all about, don't you love Uncle Rob anymore?"
Carl tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. "It's not a case of not loving him."
"I don't understand."
"No, I'm not sure I do either. It's, well, it's that I'm afraid to love him."
"Why? Uncle Rob is the nicest and kindest person."
"Yeah, he is, he's always been like that, too."
"So what's the problem?"
"I'm afraid, Ben, I'm afraid of what people will say when they find out that I'm, that I'm...," Carl trailed off.
"Gay?"
Carl flinched from the sound of the word.
"Okay, dad, I can understand that you're scared."
"Huh? You're only twelve."
"Yeah, but me and Uncle Rob have really talked during the holidays. He's told me so much about himself. He said he was scared, too, when he first realised that he liked other boys. He's told me all about when he met you, and how he felt both happy and sad about it. Happy because you were his friend and that he loved you, but sad because he was afraid to tell you."
"I see," Carl said.
"Dad, I've always looked up to you, you know. Nothing's ever frightened my big brave dad."
"This has."
"Yeah, I know. I don't know what to say, but please dad, answer this question for me. Are you in love with Uncle Rob, yes or no?"
Carl only hesitated for a second. "Yes. Yes I am." A few more tears ran down Carl's face.
Ben, who was still hugging his dad, released one of his arms and brushed the tears away. "That's the most important thing, dad. Everything else will come right if you love him."
"Oh Ben, I wish I could believe in your child-like logic. It's not as simple as that. Gay people aren't thought of very well. You should hear what some of the guys on the building site say about people like Rob."
Ben realised that his dad didn't identify himself as being gay. Timidly he said "And people like you, too."
Carl pursed his lips. He'd never admitted out loud that he was gay.
"Dad, Uncle Rob says that admitting what you are is half the battle." Ben took hold of his father's hands; he looked deep into his eyes and asked. "Dad, are you gay?"
Carl closed his eyes. "I don't know son, I honestly don't know," he said, shaking his head.
The room fell silent. This discussion was above Ben's head. "Okay dad, I don't know what else to say other than if you're gay, I'll love you just the same. You'll always be my dad."
Carl smiled. "Thanks son, that means a lot. If I've got you, then I can cope with anything."
"You've got Uncle Rob, too, don't forget that."
"Yeah. I've not been that good to him lately."
"We'll go up the house tomorrow, and you two can start talking again." Seeing his father look as though he was going to object, Ben continued. "Dad, you have to. Not just for Uncle Rob's sake, but for yours, too. You can't carry on like this, can you?"
"No, son, it's been tearing me apart."
Ben nodded. "Look, if I've had a problem with something I didn't understand at school, I knew that I could talk to you, or go and see one of my teachers about it. So if we kind of swap around, you've talked to me about it, and now you can see Uncle Rob, he can be your teacher, because he knows a lot about being gay."
"Sometimes I can't believe that you're only twelve, when you say things like that."
"Well, I've got a brainy dad to thank, haven't I?"
Carl ruffled his son's hair.
"Dad, you've not been sleeping all that well, have you? I've seen your bedroom light on when I've got up in the night to use the toilet."
"No, son."
"Right then, you remember when mum left, and I couldn't get to sleep, you let me come into your bed?"
"Yeah, and because I've not been sleeping that well, you think I ought to sleep here with you?"
"This bed's too small for two, but I'm gonna come and sleep with my dear old dad, 'cause he needs me tonight."
Carl was in danger of busting out crying again. 'God, was I lucky when you came along,' Carl said to himself as he gazed fondly down at his son. "Okay, sweetheart. Just let me tidy up downstairs, then 'I'll be back,'" Carl said in a poor imitation of 'The Terminator'.
"Don't give up the day job, dad," Ben laughed.
Carl tripped his way down the stairs, he hadn't felt as good as this in days. He was glad that he'd unburdened himself to Ben. 'God, that kid's bloody brilliant, I bet he could be a psychologist or whatever when he grows up, and I'm so proud of him, I just love him so God damned much.'
Carl took the damp laundry out of the washing machine and hung it on a clotheshorse. This done, he washed up the few pots in the sink, he checked that the back door was locked, then he went around turning off the downstairs lights. Passing the answering machine, Carl remembered hearing the phone ring when he was upstairs with Ben. He pressed the button, and the tape began to disgorge its contents.
On hearing Robbie's halting words, Carl sank into an armchair and buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, Rob, what have I done to you?" Carl's spirits, which had been soaring a few minutes earlier, now sank back down to the depths.
Ben came downstairs a few minutes later in search of a glass of milk and a biscuit. Seeing his dad sitting in the armchair, with his head in his hands, Ben put a hand on his dad's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Rob, he left a message on the machine." Ben reached round his dad and replayed the tape. "We've got to go to him now, dad."
"It's late, son," Carl said looking up at the clock, it was well past ten.
"I don't care. I know he's been feeling down, he's tried to hide it from me, but I didn't think he was that bad."
Carl didn't say anything.
"Dad, I'm going upstairs to get dressed, we're going over there now." Ben didn't wait for his father to reply. He raced upstairs, got dressed and hurriedly packed a few things for both himself and his father. He ducked into the bathroom and retrieved their toothbrushes. Snagging his father's safety razor from the cabinet, Ben hurried back downstairs again. He was relieved to see his dad standing in the hall, the keys to the van in his hand.
As Carl drove, Ben reminded his father of what he'd said about how he loved Robbie. "You've got to tell him, dad, and keep on telling him. I know that that'll be the most important thing to him at the minute."
Reaching the front of the house, Carl couldn't see any lights showing through the windows. He drove round the back, as he intended on stopping the night, he thought it best to leave the van there.
"Look, there's a light on," Ben pointed to a glow coming from one of the windows. "That's Sarah's kitchenette."
The two got out of the van, Carl locked the doors, and they approached Sarah's own doorstep.
After banging on the door, they heard the safety chain being slotted into place. The door opened slightly to reveal Sarah's face, her cheeks were sunken due to the fact that she wasn't wearing her dentures. She'd been in her kitchen making up a hot milky drink to take to bed with her.
"What are you doing here?" she said casting an icy glare at Carl. Though her words were a little indistinct due to the absence of dentition.
"Sorry it's so late, Sarah, but I need to see Rob, please let us in."
Sarah considered for a minute just closing and locking the door, barring Carl entry. 'Hadn't he caused Robbie enough pain already?'
"Please Sarah, it's important," Ben pleaded.
"Okay," Sarah shut the door in order to release the chain.
"You hurt that boy any more than you've done already, and I'll break the promise I gave to him about not interfering. Believe me, you better be here to make up with him." Sarah and Robbie had had a fight, the former wanted to go round to Carl's and 'sort him out once and for all.' However, Robbie had put his foot down, and basically ordered her not to meddle.
"I promise, Sarah," Carl said, brushing past her, making his way into the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, he rushed towards Robbie's bedroom.
The lights were still burning on the landing. For some inane reason, Carl remembered Robbie telling him that Robbie's mother had insisted on putting in higher wattage bulbs to light the many passageways in the house. "Mum thought the bright lights might ward off any ghosts."
"The house isn't haunted, is it?" Carl had asked.
"Not to my knowledge," Robbie had replied.
Pushing open Robbie's bedroom door; Carl saw that the room was dark, but the light from the landing provided him with sufficient illumination. He saw Robbie curled foetus-like on the bed, wrapped round a pillow. Even though Robbie was obviously in a deep sleep, the part of his face that Carl could see didn't look at peace. Carl noticed the many dried tear stains that marked Robbie's otherwise perfect skin. He took a brief look around; he'd shared two nights of bliss in this room. He took in the rather grand, if slightly dowdy furnishings, the large and impressive but surprisingly comfortable bed.
When Carl cast his eyes onto the bedside table, his heart missed a beat. He ran over to the cabinet and snatched up an open bottle of pills. Rattling the bottle, Carl discovered that it was almost empty. He immediately jumped to the correct conclusion that the bottle contained sleeping pills.
Carl launched himself on the bed and picked Robbie up, shaking him violently. "Rob, wake up. Rob, it's Carl, please love, please wake up." Carl began to slap Robbie's face.
"Huh? What the hell," Robbie said in a state of semi-consciousness.
"How many did you take?" Carl demanded.
"What, who?"
"Rob, how many of those pills did you take!" Carl was shouting now in fear that his friend, his partner, the man he loved more than anything else in the world might have attempted to end his life.
After Robbie had recovered from making his phone call to Carl, he'd got up and padded into his bathroom to brush his teeth. He'd not been able to sleep properly for several nights. Spying a bottle of sleeping pills in the cabinet; he remembered that the doctor had prescribed a short course of them for his mother after his dad had died. However, Gloria had refused to take them. She was never 'one for taking loads of pills', so the bottle had remained in the cabinet, unused. Robbie read the label, telling him to 'take one tablet immediately before retiring'. Fearing that one wouldn't be enough, Robbie took two. He then went back into the bedroom and curled himself round Carl's pillow, and cried himself to sleep, only to be rudely awakened by the object of his misery.
"Carl, what're you doing here?" Robbie said still pretty much under the effects of the medication.
"Rob, how many tablets did you take?" Although the volume of his enquiry had diminished, the fear still remained in Carl's voice.
"Two."
"You only took two tablets?"
"Yeah."
"Oh thank God, thank God." Carl tightened his grip around Robbie. "I thought, I thought you'd taken an overdose. Oh thank God you're safe."
"Why are you here?"
Carl held Robbie at arm's length. He remembered what Ben had said. "Because I love you, Rob. I'm in love with you, and I'm so sorry for the way I've been behaving this past week. Will you forgive me?"
"I have to, Carl. I've been hopelessly in love with you for more than half my life. I can't not love you, and I can't not forgive you either." Robbie's eyes closed, the fingers of Morpheus drawing him back down into its dark velvet depths once again.
Carl looked at his lover as he went limp in his arms. He was relieved to see that Robbie now wore an expression of peaceful contentment. Examining Robbie's face; Carl realised that he'd been a fool to try and deny the overwhelming love he felt for the gentle, wonderful and kind person that he was holding.
As Carl laid his lover back in the bed and tucked him in, he spoke softly, "I thought I'd almost lost you, babe. Oh God, I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself if that had happened." If Carl had been thinking more rationally, he would have realised that if Robbie had overdosed, it had been less than an hour since he'd spoken to him, but in Carl's relief, he hadn't remembered that fact.
Carl brushed the fringe of brown curls from Robbie's forehead, leant forward and placed a soft kiss on the exposed skin. "Back in a minute, my love."
Carl left the bedroom and made his way back downstairs to Sarah's part of the house. He found the pair sitting down drinking cocoa.
"Is everything alright, dad?" Ben enquired.
"I hope so. He's sleeping soundly now. He'd taken a couple of tablets, I thought, I thought..." Carl fought back his emotions. "I thought he'd taken an overdose, but it's okay, he hasn't."
"What did you say to him?" Sarah, who had retrieved her teeth from the glass mug that sat beside her bed, wasn't ready yet to welcome Carl back with open arms.
Carl, unused to public declarations of his love for anyone, let alone someone of his own sex, hesitated. Seeing the steely gleam in Sarah's eyes, Carl resumed. "I told him that I was very sorry for hurting him, and I told him that I loved him very very much."
Sarah nodded. "A pity you left it this long, but at least you've said it. Are you stopping here tonight?"
"Oh yes," Carl said without hesitation. "I'm done in, I haven't slept all that well recently."
"A guilty conscience, no doubt," Sarah grumbled. It would be some time before she would fully trust Carl again.
"Come on, Squirt, it's well past your bedtime. You gonna sleep in the old nursery again?"
"The bed's still made up from Friday night," Sarah announced.
Carl then remembered what he'd been doing that night. He winced, and crossed his fingers hoping that Robbie's words about how he would always forgive him would still hold true when he confessed his infidelity. He briefly toyed with the idea of not letting on to Robbie that he'd slept with someone else. However Carl mentally shook his head. 'No, I can't keep any secrets from him.'
Carl lead Ben upstairs to the old nursery. He watched his son undress and get into his pajamas for the second time that night.
"I packed a few things for you in that carrier bag," Ben said pointing at the plastic bag.
"Thanks, son, I hadn't thought about doing that. You don't need me to tell you a bedtime story?"
"No, just go and see to Uncle Rob. You need to be there when he wakes up."
"I know." Carl snatched up the bag and walked to the bedroom door. "Thanks for earlier, Ben. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Well, what are sons for?"
Ben turned over and snuggled down into the bed.
To be continued.