Copyright Alex Douglas 2009
Author's note: This is a revised version of a previous unfinished story. It's taken me 6 years to finish it, so finally here it is. All feedback greatly appreciated. Email me at alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk and I'll do my best to reply.
On the day of the operation, Megan dropped Sean off at the hospital with a tight hug and words of encouragement. He barely heart her. His heart was in his throat as he went in through the hospital door. It all seemed unreal, as he walked with the doctor to the ward to leave his things and get changed into the hospital gown. The walls were faded green, and the paint was flaking off in places. Everywhere, that smell of disinfectant and people. He focussed on every step, feeling the solid floor beneath him, the flex of the muscles in his legs as he climbed a flight of stairs while the doctor went over the details of the operation. It would be a long time before he could take such simple movements for granted again.
Cal hadn't come back after the incident in the kitchen. Not a call, not even a text. He hadn't taken any stuff with him, so where he was staying was anyone's guess. It was probably for the best. Sean couldn't face whatever conversation they were going to have, full of regret as he was. In all his fantasies, he'd always imagined his first time with Cal to be a moment to be treasured, not a savage fuck borne out of frustration and lust. Still, it had meant something to him. What it had meant to Cal was another matter. He was almost happy to have the operation upon him, just for something else to think about.
When it was time for the anaesthetic, he welcomed the idea of some hours of oblivion.
= = = = =
The next few days were a blur. High on painkillers, Sean slept a lot, fading in and out of reality. The world seemed colourful and changeable as he floated around, all his problems forgotten. Gradually though, he became aware of the pain. If he shifted too much, it pricked though his opiate-induced high. His toes wiggled out at him from the cast. His leg was suspended in the air by a series of pulleys and cables. It made his eyes spin to follow how they all connected to each other.
It was a small ward, with a couple of empty beds and one man in traction lying in the bed next to him, an aging Hell's Angel type with long fuzzy grey hair and a mess of tattoos on his arms. He was zonked out most of the time, but Sean found out that his original supposition that the man had come off his motorbike was wrong. "Fell off the garage roof trying to rescue the damn cat," his wife had said, folding her equally-tattooed arms and fixing him a glare, but her eyes were misty."Big soft shite that he is." She was there every hour she could be. They were obviously devoted to each other. It made Sean feel maudlin, and he sometimes pretended to be asleep when she was there, because she often tried to include him in their conversation, and he didn't want to talk about himself, or why he was there.
Megan visited every day, bringing him crosswords and grapes. It was hard to do a crossword when he was flat on his back, so she read the clues to him and ended up filling them in herself. Declan had been up, with half the old rugby team. And even the guys from the skydiving centre had come, bringing him a little plastic parachutist with a bandage tied round its leg and "Come back soon!" written on the parachute in Tippex. He was touched, and promised to come up and visit as soon as he could. Owen brought him flowers and crisps and ate them himself, talking endlessly about whatever he'd been watching on TV, or the latest housewife to throw herself at him. "I just tell them I'm taken," he said, winking. Despite what he'd said about seeing Sean until someone else came along, it was pretty clear he wasn't looking for anyone else. Trapped in the bed, Sean was forced to meet the guilt he felt full on, although the painkillers helped a bit to take the edge off it, just as they helped with the humiliation of using a bed pan, or getting a bed bath by a bored looking nurse.
He didn't dare to hope Cal would come. He longed to see him, to find out what was going through his mind. It was as if his heart was in limbo, just like his body. Then one afternoon, after a particularly bad night, he was sleeping off the effects of an extra dose of painkillers when he felt a touch on his cheek. Stirring himself, he tried to focus. It was Cal, and for a moment, he closed his eyes again, wondering if he was really even there.
"Sean?" Cal's voice was gentle. "Are you awake?"
He opened his eyes again. "Think so," he said, forcing a smile. "How are you?"
Cal pulled a chair over and sat down close to the bed. "I'm fine," he said. "I brought you a present." He bent down to the bag he'd been carrying and brought out a small battery operated TV. "Thought you would be missing Jeremy in the mornings," he said, smiling.
Sean turned it over in his hands, that familiar melting feeling in his stomach. "That's thoughtful, thanks."
"You've got me watching it now," Cal said. "It was great this morning, this mother and daughter tag team who'd go out and pull men and shag them in the same hotel room."
"Yuck," Sean said, wrinkling his nose as he tried to push the image from his head. He was too tired to volunteer information, or to try to articulate how he felt about what had happened. Better leave it to Cal.
Cal chatted for a while about his family, about Jeremy Kyle, about the weather. He shifted in his seat a few times and crossed his legs, ominous body language according to the little Sean had read about the topic. Eventually, there was a silence. Sean gazed at him, remembering how his bare skin had felt under his fingers, how the smell of him could send his head spinning. He longed to touch him, just hold his hand, but it was a bad idea. And Cal was sitting just a few inches too far away. He had always been just out of reach, it seemed. He felt sick in his heart again just thinking about it.
"Look," Cal said, finally meeting Sean's eyes, "We need to talk."
Sean sighed. "Go ahead."
He looked at his hands. "I'm not the person you think I am, Sean. I'm selfish, weak, a total bitch," he rubbed his face. "I drove my family away because I can't control myself, or say the right things. I don't want it to be like that with you."
"What do you mean?" Sean was puzzled.
Cal bit at his thumb. "When we decided to get married, I thought it was finally time to tell them, you know, that Jeff wasn't just my flatmate. Obviously, it went badly." He looked at the floor. "But they...he, my dad, might have come round if I hadn't acted like such a dick. He was just trying to take it all in, and then he was like "when did this happen?" Like it was something I'd just decided on a whim. I blew up and swore and told him he was a fuckhead if he'd never noticed all the years I never had girlfriends, when I was out tarting around with hundreds of different guys right under his nose." He blushed. "Well maybe not hundreds, but certainly...tens, and I'd even shagged some of them on the sofa while they were in bed. It was information he just didn't ever need to know. Even though there was never anyone else after I met Jeff, he still thinks I'm some kind of evil man-whore, that the house had been, like, sullied after that. And mum was right there with him at the start, although, I guess she changed her mind."
"She loves you," Sean said.
"I don't deserve it." He leaned forward and took Sean's hand. "Or you."
Sean felt his heart start to pound as Cal's dark eyes scoured his face. "I've been awful to you," Cal continued. "Taking advantage, getting pissed all the time, acting like a complete slut. All the time Jeff was dying, all I could think of was myself, and what on earth I was going to do without him. And then I met you again, and... I suppose I got some idea that...well, there could be some light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. I wish it hadn't been like that, in the kitchen." He smiled. "I don't mean I wish we hadn't done it. I just wish...it- I- had been better, like. In the head."
Sean opened his mouth to speak, but Cal put his finger on his lips. "Ssh," he murmured, a sad look on his face."I need to say this." He took a breath. "I can't be around you for a while, Sean." He shook his head, as if affirming it in his mind. "There's so many things I have to sort out, in my mind, in my life. I have to learn how to be on my own again, and be something more than just someone's husband. And I need some time, I don't know how much, just to...well, deal with everything. It hasn't sunk in really, that I'll never see him again. I don't know if I'll ever stop missing him." He sat back and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. "Look at me, blubbing again," he said, forcing a bitter laugh and blowing his nose. "Jeff would kick my arse for being such a drip."
Sean swallowed. "So, this is, what, goodbye?"
"For a while." Cal wiped at his eyes. "Look, you've been so good to me, this last while. I won't forget it." He stood up and leaned over, kissing Sean on the forehead, his lips lingering on the skin as if they were branding it in some way. "I do love you, you know, I always have," he said. He looked at Sean as if he was memorising his face.Then he gestured towards Sean's leg. "I feel so bad about saying this now you're, like, incapacitated. Maybe when we're both on our feet, we can try this again?" He pulled his coat around him. "I'll be in touch, yeah?"
Don't go, Sean wanted to say, but the lump in his throat was too painful to let out the words. He watched Cal leave the room, strained to listen to the click of his boots on the floor as he walked away and out of his life.
= = = = =
"I Know how this works," Megan said that night, her cheeks pink with anger. "Just like last time, he breaks your heart, walks away and leaves everyone else to pick up the pieces. What a total shit! If he was here right now..." She thumped her fist into her hand. "I swear to god. Does he think you're just going to sit around waiting?"
Sean shrugged."He knows me well enough, then."
Megan sighed."Oh, baby brother," she said."What am I going to do with you?"
"It's not like last time anyway." He felt the need to defend Cal, to diffuse Megan's anger somehow. "I was stupid, Meg. I knew all along he wouldn't be ready for anything. For Christ's sake, his partner just died." He shifted in the bed, trying to ignore the itch under his cast. "It's the right thing for both of us, to be honest. He's a mess right now and I'm in no position to be supportive." His voice was firm, trying to signal a close to the topic.
She sniffed. "Well, as long as you're all right about it," she said, looking down at the pram beside her. "Look, Jack's awake. Do you want to hold him?"
"Sis, I can't even sit up, never mind hold a baby." He smiled. "Just get out the crossword. I have a feeling today's the day I'm going to finally finish one."
After the initial shock and sadness following Cal's departure, he was starting to feel surprisingly positive. It might have been the drugs, but his head felt clear, focussed, as if his old self was finally starting to wake up. He was beginning to realise how stressful it had been to have Cal around, and now he wouldn't be seeing him anymore, he could focus on himself and his recovery. Life was too short to waste, as he'd been doing ever since the accident. He thought about Jeff, and the accident, and promised to finally make the most of his second chance.
= = = = =
The next months were not easy. It was boring to be in a wheelchair, driven mad with itching under the cast, with frequent trips to the hospital. Jude had proved herself worth her weight in gold in the early days when he could hardly move, and they became friends. She cheered him up on the bad days, pushed him out the door when his friends called round, sneaked off to the pub when Owen was around. She moved out the day he got the lower leg cast, which was like a liberation of sorts. He was back on crutches but at least able to hobble around and finally take a crap without assistance.
Gary had called around to see him to check on his progress and give him an update about what was happening at the gym; who was shagging who, the latest horny housewives he'd taken on as a personal trainer. He was very professional with the clients, which Sean liked, but he hated listening to how Gary talked about them behind their backs. The thought of going back to work for Gary was unappealing to say the least. He didn't want to be "an ideal body" again, a guy who spent all his time working out, only to hold up his physique to make other people feel bad, working people who didn't have time to do what he did. He'd got used to his soft belly and kind of liked it.
Owen certainly liked it. He'd lie with his head on Sean's stomach, listening to the sounds. "You get a great view from here too," he said, as Sean stroked his hair and laughed. Their "casual" relationship was almost approaching ten months by the time Sean's cast came off, and his physiotherapy started in earnest. They were happy together, but something was missing, at least on Sean's side. He loved Owen in a way, but it wasn't the helpless, painful, irresistable feeling he had when he was with Cal. Still, it was enough for the moment.
Jack was trying to walk too, which amused Sean no end."Who else learns to walk at the same time as their old uncle?" he laughed one day as he sat with Megan in the park. It had been an unusually warm day in December, and they'd rushed out with a picnic basket and a blanket to enjoy the sunshine and the cloudless blue sky.
Megan watched Jack wobble to his feet and then sit down again. He looked more like her every day, big green eyes and a happy smile. His white-blonde hair was thick and stuck up at the crown. "He's got your hair for sure," Megan said, smiling. "Oh, I picked up those forms you were wanting. I must say, baby brother, I had no idea you wanted to use your brain again, after all that daytime TV you've been watching. Do they do degrees in Jeremy Kyle studies?"
"Cheeky bitch," he muttered, grinning, tucking the forms into his bag. He hadn't bothered to finish university the first time after he'd got the job at Gary's gym. The money had seemed too attractive to a twenty year old who wanted nothing more to save up and blow the lot on swanning off to different countries, snowboarding, surfing, whitewater rafting. It seemed like the ideal time to go back and study again. He couldn't be a fitness trainer forever, even if he managed to get himself in that sort of shape again, and Owen was certainly showing him the benefits of lazy days in bed, lazy evenings on the sofa.
Megan rolled onto her back and pulled up her trouser legs a few inches, closing her eyes and groaning. "The sun's so nice," she said. "Why can't it be like this every day?" Her jumper inched up, exposing a line of stomach as she folded her hands behind her head and sighed.
"Well, for a start," Sean said, unable to resist tickling the exposed skin, "it's winter." As Megan screeched and struggled, he held her down, laughing. Jack squealed with delight and clapped his hands.
"Some help you are, Jack!" She cried, yelping as her body twisted under the ticking fingers. When he finally let her go, she sat up, panting. "Bad uncle Sean!" She swatted him on the nose.
"Here, have a sandwich," Sean said, passing her a lunchbox. "Made them myself."
She wrinkled her nose as she held up the limp bread. "What the hell is this? Lettuce and jam?"
"It's cranberry sauce," he said. "Owen was trying to teach me how to make stuff. Isn't it all about discovering new tastes?"
Megan laughed. "I think that's one taste I can do without," she said. "Here, have the rest of this sushi. If there's one thing I've learned in life it's that no matter what you do, Marks and Spencers always does it better."
They lay together on the rug in silence, listening to the rush of the nearby river, the sounds of the birds. Jack curled up beside Sean and fell asleep. His nephew's small body was solid and warm against him, and he felt a great sense of contentment. He wondered what they'd look like to a passing stranger, sunbathing in full winter woollies. But there wasn't a soul around except the two people he loved most in the world, and he felt happier than he had in a long time.
Just as he too was starting to doze, he felt a tongue lapping at his face. Spitting, he sat up. The golden retriever lost no time scoffing the lettuce sandwiches, then sat down, tongue hanging out. "What a lovely dog!" Megan exclaimed, rubbing the dog's chest and looking around for something else to feed her. But Sean wasn't looking at the dog. He knew who owned her. The shiny tag bearing her name had confirmed it.
"Shit," he murmured, spotting Cal coming round the corner. He was alone, his hands in the pockets of his long coat. Sean could hear his boots crunching on the gravel path. He was carrying a lead and whistling for the dog to come, but her nose was in Megan's hand, whining for more of Jack's crips. He saw Cal notice the dog, start coming over, then stop in his tracks. They stared at each other for a second. Sean felt himself holding his breath, and forced himself to relax.
Megan hadn't noticed. She was too busy stroking Cassie's soft ears and looking into her brown eyes. "This dog is such a sweetheart!" she said. "Who do you think owns..." Then she noticed the object of Sean's gaze. "Oh. Shit."
Cal walked over to them. "Hi,Sean, Megan," he said, his voice casual. "I'm sorry about the dog." He pulled her gently away from Megan and clipped the lead onto her collar. "I've been trying to catch her for the last half hour." When Cassie was under control and sitting obediently at his side, he looked at Sean, meeting his eyes. "Well, how have you been?"
"Sean's fine," Megan said, her voice cold. "And no thanks to you, either."
"Megan!" Sean hissed. "Shut up."
Cal blinked, looking as if he'd been slapped around the face. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll go, then." He paused and looked at Sean again. "You're looking well, anyway."
"Thanks," Sean said. His head was full of questions, his heart full of conflicting emotions. Cal's hair had grown a bit, and shone in the sun. He was tanned and healthy looking, dressed in black jeans and a tight fitting polo neck, and the inevitable boots. The gold band was gone from his ring finger. Sean's eyes wandered over his body, as if they were hungry for the sight. "You too."
"OK," Cal said, his dark eyes lingering on Sean's face. "Well. I'll go, then." He said again, not looking at Megan, whose disapproval was clear. He started to walk away and Sean felt a dragging at his heart. He couldn't leave it like that.
"Give me over my crutches," he said to Megan, trying to ignore the look on her face.
She reached them to him. "You're pathetic," she said.
He stood up. "I know," he said, shrugging. He started in the direction of the path. "Cal!" he shouted. "Wait a second."
Cal turned around, and the look of relief on his face was plain. "Hey," he said, as Sean caught up to him."Do you want to walk for a bit? Can you, I mean." He glanced over at Megan, who was playing with Jack, clearly ignoring him. "I guess Megan hates me."
"Sure,"Sean said. "I mean, about the walk. Don't worry about Meg. She's just...being protective."
They walked slowly together for a few minutes. "So how have you been?" Sean asked, breaking the silence. "You've got some suntan there."
Cal smiled. "Yeah, I went to Greece for a few weeks. Thought I'd better make the most of my last days as a man of leisure."
"You've got a job?"
"Yeah. Nothing too exciting, just some clerical work in an office in town." He took a packet of chewing gum out of his pocket. "Want one? I'm off the cigarettes. I can't believe I ever got into that shit."
Sean took one and popped it into his mouth. The spearmint flooded over his tongue and he spotted a bench just along the path. "Can we sit?" he asked. The muscles in his leg were starting to ache from the exercise, but it was a good, healthy feeling. He eased himself down onto the bench and laid his crutches on the ground beside him, stretching his leg out and breathing in the smell of the river. "Gainful employment, eh."
Cal sat down beside him, releasing the whining dog who plunged through the reeds and into the water. "It's more for the social aspect," he said. "From a financial point of view, I don't actually need to work, ever again."
Sean didn't comment. He knew that the reason for Cal's wealth was the death of his partner. It wasn't anything to be glad about, for sure. "I'm going back to uni," he said. "Well. At least, I'm applying. Don't see any reason why I shouldn't be accepted, though."
Cal shifted around, so he was facing Sean. "Really?" he said. "That's cool. What are you going to study?"
"Physiotherapy. I reckon I've got enough experience on the receiving end." Sean smiled. "It would be nice to... I suppose, give something back. Sounds corny, but...well."
Cal's brown eyes were fixed on his face. Looking into them, he felt the faint tingle of electricity in his veins. His hand was resting on the bench, so close to Cal's. He was almost painfully aware of the proximity of Cal's body, and he yearned to touch him, hold his hand, anything. It didn't seem to matter how much time passed, a day, months, eighteen years. He knew it would always be like this with Cal. "I'm a hopeless case," he murmured, not realising he'd spoken aloud.
Cal smiled. "I'm so glad you came to the park today," he said. "I've been meaning to phone you. But I just couldn't find..." The tips of his fingertips met Sean's, and they danced together for a second, before Cal's hand folded into his, their palms pressing together, fingers intertwined. His skin was warm and dry. "I missed you." His voice was almost a whisper, casting a magic spell over Sean's brain, rendering him unable to think of anything except the warmth of his gaze, the heat of his touch.
Then it was gone. "I have to go now," Cal said. "I'm already late. I'm supposed to meet mum for lunch in like..." he checked his watch. "Oops! Five minutes ago."
Sean shook himself out of the fog. "Well, the way you drive, you might just make it, he said, smiling.
Cassie came over and shook herself, droplets of mud and river spraying all over both of them. Cal grabbed the soaking animal and clipped her lead on again, looking down at his clothes. "Damn," he said. "Look at my jeans. I'm going to look great in the pub now." As he stood up, he turned to Sean. "Look, I can't make any promises," he said. "But if you want to go out for, like, lunch sometime... it would be nice."
Sean sighed. "What do you mean, "let's be friends" nice?" Or like, "a date" nice? I just want to know how I'm supposed to behave." The thought of saying "no" hadn't even entered his mind.
There was a flash of dimples in Cal's cheeks and he winked. "A date?" he said, his eyes bright. " Maybe...something like that. Friday? There's an all you can eat buffet at the Chinese near the city hall. It's not bad."
"Sounds great," Sean said. "Text me in the morning to remind me. You know what my schedule's like."
Cal laughed. "So you can fit me in sometime between Jeremy and that American woman in the afternoon, Sally whatever. Sounds like a plan."
"Ok," Sean said. He could not stop himself from grinning like an idiot. "See you then." He watched Cal walk off, look over his shoulder, wave. He waved back, a warm feeling in his stomach.
Too late he remembered Fridays were the days he spent with Owen.