A Note in the Margin (17 page)

Bacon.
Eggs. Bread for toast. Coffee for the machine.
John checked and double checked all the items that lay out on the bench. He nodded to himself and opened the cupboard door so the crockery was in plain view.

The tiled floor of the kitchen was cold and he absently rubbed the top of his foot against the flannel-covered calf of the other leg. He knew he could get his slippers but cringed at the thought, not quite ready to let David see him in what Marian had called his “old man slippers”.
Shit, I really need to call Marian,
John cursed silently but was cut short when he heard the bathroom door open. “Okay, what else?” he murmured and quickly scanned his preparations.

David wandered across the living room to lean against the door frame of the kitchen. John couldn’t help but smile at the site of a still slightly damp David in his old track pants and T-shirt and seriously messy towel-dried hair.

John turned back to the stove and made a show of fiddling with the frying pan. He said in what he hoped was a convincing voice, “I was gonna make us some breakfast, but I think I might grab a quick shower first.”

David grinned at John’s very unsubtle comment. “I’ll do it.” He walked over and carefully took the pan from John’s hands. John gave him a sheepish look, knowing he hadn’t fooled anyone. “Everything is here…. Milk for the coffee is in the fridge….”

With a slight tilt of his head David attempted a frown. “Oh, okay. I wouldn’t have thought to look there.” He then gave a John a small smile that clearly read “thank you” but said, “I’ll get started on breakfast.”

John resisted the urge to run his fingers through the wayward hair and left the kitchen.

David stood and looked at the food for a long moment. He couldn’t quite remember when he’d cooked for himself or anyone else, for that matter
. I need to do this,
he thought and was determined to prove he was still capable of such a simple task. He measured out the coffee according to the instructions on the jar, filled the jug with water, and poured it into the machine. After flicking the switch he stood with his arms folded and waited until the first dark drip hit the bottom of the jug.

He smiled to himself; it was more than he’d managed on his last attempt.

By the time John was out of the shower and toweling himself dry his stomach was churning.
Was it too much? He knew what I was doing. Did I set him up to fail?
He shaved as fast as he dared and by the time he turned off the extractor fan, he smelled the unmistakable scent of bacon frying.

The coffee jug gave its last gurgle when he walked into the kitchen. David was standing at the stove carefully turning one of the eggs. John noticed how slow and pedantic his movements were. He seemed to radiate concentration. With the egg safely flipped, David’s shoulders relaxed a little and he turned to see John watching him. “I made us breakfast,” he said with more than a little relief.

“So I see.” John grinned and moved toward him. “Here… want me to dish?”

“No, I can manage,” David replied quietly, but firmly.

“Okay.” John laughed and raised his hands. “How about I set the table?”

“Yeah… please,” David smiled and returned his attention to the bacon that was crisping nicely.

Within minutes both men were sitting at the table, cooked breakfast in front of them and freshly brewed coffee in their mugs. John reached for his bottle of HP sauce, poured it liberally on his food, and stuffed a forkful of egg-yolk-soaked toast into his mouth. “Mmmm…. Bloody good, Dave,” he mumbled, his mouth still full of food.

“I know.” David smiled around his own mouthful of bacon.

“Fuck!”
The word seemed to vibrate around the bookshelves.

“Jamie,” John growled and looked up to see the young man struggling in the front door carrying a large and somewhat battered cardboard box. He dumped the box noisily on the floor and gave one of the nearby pensioners from the Seniors Book Club an apologetic look. John watched as she just smiled indulgently at Jamie.
He
gets away with blue bloody murder
.

Jamie strolled up to the counter after greeting the other ladies and threw John’s car keys to him. “They had a lot of fiction to get rid of. There are a few more boxes in the car.”

John nodded, threw the keys back at Jamie, and held back a smile as he said, “Excellent. Bring them in.” Jamie groaned, but knew better than to argue. Although when David offered to help, Jamie jingled the keys at John with a playful smirk and led David out of the store.

David was a hard worker and matched Jamie’s energy in short bursts, yet John noticed how quickly physical exertion tired him out. But John trusted Jamie with him and knew that despite his playful nature he always kept a careful eye on David, never letting him take on more than he thought he could handle.

There were four large boxes in total; John usually bought secondhand books in large quantities from people who were moving or deceased estates. He smiled at the sight of David sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by piles of books, digging into a new box, not caring that it was dusty and covered in cobwebs.

Jamie emerged from behind John carrying two mugs; he handed one to David and was about to take a sip from the other when John took it out of his hand with a cheeky grin. “Thanks, Jamie, but you should have made one for yourself too.”

“I live to serve you, boss.” He smiled and gave a low bow, just managing to stay out of reach when John took a swipe at him. David sat back and watched the interaction, a happy smile on his face.

Jamie bent to pick up a pile of books deemed suitable for resale and stacked them on the book trolley. He was pleased there were some good ones; novels that would complete trilogies or series. It wasn’t the resale value that pleased him; it was the understanding that some people couldn’t afford the rising price of a paperback and were always overjoyed to find the conclusion to a much loved story or follow the lives of characters who had become like friends or family.

“Put the others back in the boxes and I’ll drop them in the Dumpster after work,” John said as he took another mouthful and raised the mug at Jamie before walking back to the counter.

David frowned at the stack of novels to be discarded. He grabbed an armful of torn and tatty books and followed John to the front of the store.

“I’ll take those out later, Dave,” John said as he saw David approach. But David put the books on the counter and looked from them to John before asking, “Can I have them?”

John laughed, but stopped when he saw the serious expression remain on David’s face. “Of course you can. But they’re old and dirty and you know you can help yourself to anything on the shelf.”

David glanced back at the books a little embarrassed. “They’re not for me.”

John almost asked what David had in mind, but simply reiterated in a gentle voice, “Of course you can have them.”

David kept his eyes on the ripped cover of an old classic without making a move. John knew there was more to be said so he waited. Eventually, when David had found the right words, he looked up and stated, “We need more than food, John. A dry place to sleep is important, but we also need to be treated as
thinking
human beings. Maggie did that for me. Letting me in the store to read kept me….” He shrugged, not sure how to end the sentence. John nodded and encouraged him to continue.

David stood a little straighter and said, “Being able to read gave me an escape, but it also kept me thinking on a level higher than survival and allowed me a little dignity. So I was hoping I could take these books down to the shelter.”

“Great idea.” John beamed. He couldn’t stop smiling as he scooped the books from the counter and headed to the back of the store to help David fill the box.

John
resisted the urge to take the heavy box from David as he pushed open the shelter doors. David had been through this foyer many times under very different circumstances. Today, however, he felt mixed emotions as he followed John to the front desk, hanging back when Barbara appeared.

“John, how are you?” she welcomed as she walked around the counter to give him a hug and then, without waiting for his reply, looked past him to David. Her voice changed to a calmer, gentler tone. “Hello, David.” She made no attempt to touch him, but held steady eye contact until he gave her a little smile and a hesitant “Hi.”

Better, much better,
she thought and turned back to John. “So what brings you here today?”

“Well, David actually,” John grinned. “I was going to throw out this box of old paperbacks and Dave suggested we bring them here.”

“Maybe some of the others would appreciate a book to read,” David said softly, keeping his eyes on the box in his arms.

John nodded and raised his eyebrows at Barbara.

“That’s a wonderful thought, David,” she acknowledged. “I’m sure you’re right.” She called to one of the volunteers to show David where to set up a space for the books and suggested that John join her in the kitchen to make them all coffee.

John checked over his shoulder, reassuring himself that David was okay before following her through the door. Barbara signaled for John to sit while she lifted three mismatched mugs off the draining rack and flicked the switch on the well-used electric kettle. “It’s only instant, I’m afraid,” she apologized as she spooned the granules into the mugs.

“That’s fine,” John replied, waiting for the real conversation to begin. He didn’t have long to wait.

After putting the little sugar bowl in the middle of the table Barbara sat and looked at him. “I’m impressed with the change in him, John. I actually suspected that he was gone for good when you were here last.”

John leaned forward on the table.
Where to start?
“I know I nearly lost him then, Barbara. He was so ashamed, so….” John raised his hands in a helpless shrug and shook his head.

“But he’s here, John,” she reassured. “And suggesting coming to the shelter today is a huge step for him. I’m really quite amazed.”John hadn’t actually considered that and slowly nodded while she continued. “You know, he’s been coming here on and off for quite a while, but today is the first time I’ve heard him speak. I was beginning to think he couldn’t.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t say much,” John agreed.

Barbara laughed and got up to pour the boiling water. “He’s looking good too, John. But I have to ask: has he seen a doctor yet?”

Fuck!
John felt his stomach plummet and he glanced over to the doorway.

“I can talk to him about it if you want, John,” she said quietly, recognizing the look that had settled on John’s features. “I do this as part of my job and he might find it easier to hear it come from me.”

It felt wrong to John. He should be the one talking to David, but he also knew Barbara was right. She had all the contacts and knew the procedures. With teeth clenched, John nodded.

“Go and ask him to come in please, John.” Barbara smiled gently. “Stay out for a little bit, okay?”

John stirred an extra sugar into his coffee and left to get David.

Barbara was right when she said this was part of her job, but it didn’t make it any easier. She pried open the lid of the cookie tin and chewed nervously on the edge of an oatmeal cookie while she waited. The opening of the conversation had run through her head at least three times by the time David stepped through the door.

“Come in, David. Grab a seat,” Barbara smiled and tilted the tin toward him. David took a cookie and put it next to his mug. He waited quietly.

“You’re looking a lot better these days,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to settle him with small talk. “I hardly recognized you without your sketchbook.” David merely sat and looked at a point somewhere near the sugar bowl, making it clear that no amount of idle chit-chat would make him feel comfortable.