A Note in the Margin (22 page)

John looked at him with genuine curiosity, but before he could ask, David shook his head and said, “No, I didn’t send them.”

“So you still have them?” John queried softly.

David looked down the aisle of books and gave a defeated shrug. “They were written in the blank bits of my sketchbooks… sometimes as part of the picture. I lost most of them when my stuff got taken.”

John remembered how fiercely David had protected his sketchbooks when he was beaten. Even the one he saved had the spiral spine partly torn out and many of the pages were ripped. With a small sigh, John rested a comforting hand on the back of David’s neck and said, “Keep writing them. Maybe one day he can see your pictures and read your words.” David went to answer, but the thought of Adam seeing his book, his thoughts, was too much, and he was forced to gulp a breath. John pulled him closer with a light kiss to his hair and a whispered, “He’ll get to read them…. It’ll happen one day.”

John glanced up to see Jamie standing hesitantly with their lunch tray, not wanting to interfere. Seeing John’s small nod and smile, Jamie put on a grin and said, “Man, you two never miss an opportunity for a sneaky snog. Come on; take a lunch break.”

David gave Jamie a slightly embarrassed look and straightened up with a shaky breath. Jamie simply put the tray on the floor and sat cross-legged at David’s feet, stretching an arm over one of his knees.

The three men shared sandwiches, tea, and comfortable conversation until John checked his watch and said, “Better flip the sign again before we have the afternoon seniors knocking at the door.” He looked briefly at the backpack and added, “Put your shopping upstairs, Dave, while I show Jamie what real work looks like.”

David gave a little laugh and ran his hand over Jamie’s hair before picking up the pack and wandering down the store. Both men watched David leave.

When he heard the store door close, Jamie turned to John and asked, “What happened?”

John rubbed his hand over the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the tension headache steadily building. He grimaced. “Adam almost saw him today. Scared the shit out of him.”

Jamie shook his head; he couldn’t even begin to imagine what David was going through. He fiddled with David’s empty mug and muttered, “Poor Dave. It must hurt him so much to need to hide from his son.”

“Yeah,” John said quietly. “He bought a new backpack today.”

The intent of John’s words was obvious. Jamie looked up and frowned. “It doesn’t have to mean he’s gonna leave, John.” He pulled himself up into David’s chair. “Maybe he just needs to know he could if he had to, yeah?”

John knew Jamie was right, but slumped a little and said, “I just wish he didn’t need to.”

On
his own in the apartment, David sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the backpack. Why did this little cheap bag seem safer than the life John offered him?

John said he loved him, but….

He unzipped the top and reached for the paper bag containing his belongings. One by one he pulled out the clothes John had bought for him, each item freshly laundered and folded. David laid them carefully out on the bed and ran his fingers over each one. He lifted his sketchbook and placed it beside them. Everything he owned.

It’s enough.
David gave himself a mental shake and packed his clothes into the bottom of the pack. He methodically emptied his pockets of small change, pencil stubs, and a couple of sweet cookies, putting them all down the side. The sketchbook was also slid down the side of his clothes and finally the tattered paper bag was folded and placed on top. David pulled the zip closed and put the pack on the floor next to the chest of drawers.

The
room was dark and quiet when David woke up. Even the seemingly ever-present street noises were silent. He turned carefully and could just make out the sleeping figure of John. One arm was under his pillow and the other folded in front of him so his fingers curled just out of reach of his open mouth. Listening, David could hear the slow soft breath that matched the steady rise and fall of John’s chest.

Sliding his legs around until they reached the edge of the mattress, David cautiously moved off the bed. He stood and watched for a while longer to ensure he hadn’t woken John, and then moved across the room to his pack.

David took hold of the shoulder strap and lifted it, desperately trying not to make a sound. By the time he reached the living room his footfall steadied and he walked quickly into the kitchen. The sudden flare of the florescent light stung his eyes as he flicked on the light and squinted while sorting through his belongings.

His fingers closed around the spiral spine on his sketchbook and he sat at the table. David spent several minutes looking through it and reading its content; some were simple lists while others were meant only for middle-of-the-night reading. He pulled out a pencil and in the dark shading behind the smiling face of a teenage boy he began to write.
I watched you do the right thing today, Adam. I wanted to stand up and tell you how proud I am of you instead of cowering in the shadows, but I couldn’t do it. John said to me that one day you’ll get to read this….

David
watched Jamie come into the kitchen for a third glass of water and grinned. Once again he strolled the long way around the table, craning his neck to see what David was doing. With a quiet giggle at how obvious Jamie was being, David made a show of covering the list he was writing. Finally it was too much for Jamie; his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned on the back of a vacant chair and groaned, “I give up. What
are
you doing?”

David chuckled at Jamie’s pained expression and shrugged. “Just writing a list of where I can get some books.”

“Um, David, look around,” Jamie said with a flourish of his hand.

Rather than taking the bait, David just nodded and tapped his list. “These aren’t for me; they’re for the shelter.”

With his curiosity piqued, Jamie pulled out the chair and sat down. He turned the sketchbook slightly askew so he could read David’s scrawled list. There were single words, half-formed ideas, and the word “purgatory” traced over a few times next to what seemed to be business hours. Jamie frowned and gave David a quizzical look. “Purgatory?”

“It’s a room in the library where they put the books ready for pulping,” David explained. “The librarian said I could help myself. I sorted a couple of bags’ worth, but that was all I could carry.”

Jamie nodded and gave him a clearly delighted smile. “You went there and organized this with the librarians, yeah?”

“Yeah.” David rolled his eyes, a little uncomfortable when Jamie continued to grin broadly at him. “I thought I might take them to the shelter tomorrow while John’s at his meeting.”

“With ‘the suits’.” Jamie groaned and grimaced. “I still remember the first time I met John in his designer suit, designer haircut, and designer attitude.” He laughed and sat back in his chair. “Don’t get me wrong. I thought he had definite potential, but….”

David thought back to his first meeting with John, John’s look of disgust before he’d turned his back.

Jamie noticed the rapid change in David’s expression and clearly remembered John’s initial reaction to the store’s “
resident transient”
. He knew then that it still hurt and reminded him, “But we got him to look beyond the profit line, didn’t we, Dave?”

“Yeah.” David smiled and tried to shake off the memory. “Although seeing him take out his suit for tomorrow made me wonder.”

Jamie frowned and said with undeniable certainty, “Nah, he can put the suit on, but it won’t take him long to see it doesn’t fit anymore. He’s not the man he was.”

David gave a moment’s thought to Jamie’s words and was about to query the logic, but Jamie had already switched topics. “I can help you sort them,” he said, looking back at the list. “The books I mean. And we can get John to move them in his car, or I know this guy with a truck. Well, I met him once, but I think I still have his number.”

He knew Jamie meant well, but David gave him a small apologetic smile and suggested, “Maybe… maybe later. But right now, I need to do this.”

The
weight of the book bags made David’s fingers ache. He stopped for a minute and shifted the handles out of the white ridges they’d created in his flesh before continuing down the path. Despite the discomfort, it felt good to be outside again and doing something worthwhile. Two weeks had passed since he’d seen Adam, and David hadn’t dared to venture out of the store or John’s apartment. He knew the others had noticed and seemed to take turns in making sure he was okay. As soon as John had something to do Jamie would appear. It crossed David’s mind that they were actually keeping watch because the backpack definitely seemed to spook John. David shook his head.
Just because I need to know I can go if I need to doesn’t mean I will….

By the time he reached the shelter door, David’s breathing was coming in short pained puffs; partly through the exertion of the long walk carrying the books, but also a reluctance to step up into the foyer. Even though he was on a mission today it was still a reminder of what he’d been and what he could so easily be again. With a deep breath and nervous swallow, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Hovering near the doorway, David watched the scene inside, very tempted to just leave the books, turn around, and walk back to Margins. But Barbara had other ideas. She’d seen him come through the door and had been watching him, gauging his reactions before approaching. With a pleased smile she waved him over. “David! It’s good to see you.” She glanced down at the bags and said, “Those look suspiciously like books.”

David followed her line of sight and nodded. He held up one of the bags despite the strain on his fingers and told her, “I got them from the library. They have a lot more.”

“Thank you, David. The last books you brought us were a huge success.” She took the bags from him and put them on the reception desk. “Come on through to the kitchen. I’m due for a break and would love some company.” Without waiting for a reply she headed in the direction of the kitchen, knowing given no choice he would follow.

As soon as they were seated at the table, Barbara gave him a gentle smile and asked, “So, David, how are you?”

David shrugged and said in a voice that made it clear he wasn’t willing to give too much away to her, “Better, I guess.”

Barbara nodded, but was well aware how he kept his eyes on his hands and picked nervously at a callous where his pencil usually rested. She left it there and asked instead, “How’s John?”

“He’s having lunch with his friends,” David answered in a guarded manner.

“Uh-huh,” Barbara said noncommittally and waited.

“His work friends. Or maybe they’re not really friends but people he works with.”

Barbara took note of how David used present tense when discussing John’s business acquaintances. “So how is he, apart from having lunch?”

At that point, it became very clear to David that he wasn’t going to get away with much with Barbara and he smiled. “John’s good…. He worries about me too much, but he’s good.”

Barbara chuckled and stood up to pour the boiling water into the waiting mugs. David sat quietly while she carried the mugs to the table and took her seat. She pulled the lid off the cookie tin and frowned. “Not many left, I’m afraid. I raided the chocolate ones earlier.” Barbara watched him carefully while he slowly reached into the tin, took a cookie, and placed it beside his mug. His actions were still of a man uncomfortable in his surroundings despite how far he’d come in the past few months. She took a bite of her cookie and said through the crumbs, “You know, it’s okay that he worries. We all worry about people we care about, even when they don’t need it.”

With a nod and a hint of a grin, David picked up his own cookie and took a bite.

David
dropped his clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower. It wasn’t that he felt dirty; it was more to reinforce the notion that he could stay clean.

He stood under the force of the shower, head dropped forward letting the jet hit the back of his neck and sluice down his back. For several minutes he just closed his eyes and gave in to the soothing sensation of the water. He’d talked to Barbara for a lot longer than he’d intended. They’d discussed the books, setting up some shelves, and somehow she also managed to get him to let slip the occasional comment about himself.
She’s good at her job.
David smiled.

With a contented moan, he straightened and tilted his head back to let the water stream over his face. His open mouth soon filled with water and he grinned as it spilled over his lips and down his body. It felt good.

He reached for the shampoo and the smell of peppermint soon filled the misted bathroom. It brought back the first night he’d smelled that shampoo and what he was like then: dirty, frightened, and ashamed. Picking up the smooth white bar of soap, David turned it over and over in his hands while he slowly let the image wash away. It was only then that David allowed his soapy hand on his skin. There was a nearly forgotten familiarity to the body he felt beneath his fingers. Some of the sharp angles had softened, along with the revulsion of being touched by even his own hands.

Glancing down he watched the progress of his hand. Tiny bubbles were left in the trail of hair around his naval until they were rinsed away by the rivulets of water. The water ran warm over his belly and down his thighs. His hand hovered for a moment before returning to its path. Still soapy fingers slipped easily between his legs and settled just under his cock, holding barely tight enough to feel himself start to lengthen and swell.
Take your time
,
he reminded himself, knowing there weren’t a dozen other men waiting for their chance to remove some of the street from their skin.

But David pulled his hand away at the unbidden memory of rough and rushed release and stood with his open palms pressed against the tiles of the shower stall until all the soap was rinsed away.

With his hair toweled dry, he paused in the doorway of the bedroom. He’d been with John for almost six months, but still felt the compulsion to glance over his shoulder, expecting to be told he didn’t belong there. David shook his head and looked back at the bed that John had made up with fresh linen that morning; every Sunday morning.

He walked over, brushed his fingers across John’s pillow, and smiled briefly before turning his gaze to his own pillow. David moved slowly around to his side of the bed, carefully turned back the covers, and smoothed his palm over the fresh white sheet, cool and clean.

David unwrapped the towel from his waist and laid it purposefully within his reach on the edge of the bed.

Naked, he stretched out. Each muscle tensed to be slowly released until his body relaxed against the cool of the bed. His bed…. He rolled the thought over in his mind and reached his arm across the mattress to cover the space John would fill. David closed his eyes.

He could hear the faint stir of the curtain as the breeze, warm with the first hints of summer, blew softly through the open window. It caressed his bare skin and for the first time in what seemed an eternity David didn’t feel at war with his body. There was no real ache of the ever-present fatigue and he didn’t fight the stirrings of need.

Keeping his eyes closed, David’s hand came to rest on his stomach. He let the heat of his palm seep through his skin before he moved it slowly down. His cock twitched at the nearness of touch, but he avoided direct contact, sliding instead along the crease of his thigh. Still slightly damp from the shower, his fingers explored the smooth skin, taking in the changes of texture of hairlines. The other hand mirrored the first, each making its own slow progress.

David exhaled a shaky breath and raised his hips enough to encourage further exploration. The breeze had picked up and, though still warm, it quickly cooled the path of pre-come that had begun to dribble down his hard flesh.

Finally David relented. The flat of his fingers skimmed the underside of his cock before encircling and tightening their grip. His hand moved deliberately, stroking himself in long, slow, downward sweeps so his fingers nudged against tightening balls. Images danced through his mind of John touching him, kissing him… all aberrant thoughts blocked and forgotten for now. His other hand lifted to his mouth and the faint trace of desire passed over his lips.

David’s eyes remained firmly closed while he moaned around his fingers. His hips rose from the bed, urging his hand into a more determined rhythm. Harder, faster, squeezing around the swollen head. Breathing became more difficult. His breath came in grunted grasps until he felt it start. The tension in his belly and balls became a shockwave that rapidly built and rippled in ever-expanding waves. Fingers faltered and, with an uninhibited cry, David came.

A whole
different world.
The phrase passed through John’s mind for the umpteenth time that day as he parked his car in his spot near the store. When he turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine, he quickly reached up and loosened his tie.

Seeing his old friends had unnerved him a lot more than he’d anticipated. The brief lunch meeting had extended out to several hours and he’d slipped far too easily into his “executive” mind-set. Talk about closing files had morphed into discussions of his returning at the end of the year without him even noticing the shift in the conversation. It was all mapped out. He would complete his year in exile and return to the fold.