A Note in the Margin (23 page)

His stomach rolled, possibly from the rich food and midday alcohol, but more likely the thought of turning his back on the life he’d built, was building, with David.

John reached into the glove box and grabbed a discarded packet of cigarettes, lit one, and wound the window down. The year was half over and every time that realization dawned, John had managed to push it to the back of his mind. But he knew he needed to start making decisions. He inhaled deeply and leaned back against the seat before letting out the long stream of smoke. Up until that moment, his fear had been that David would leave, but now he had to consider that he might be the one to leave—let the lease run out on the store and pick up where he left off. John frowned and stabbed the cigarette butt into the ashtray.

He stepped out of the car and looked up at the building that housed his current life.

By the time his key was in the door to his apartment John’s tie was in his hand and his stomach was full of now very familiar butterflies. He shook his head and told himself to settle down, but knew this time it was anticipation.

It was quiet when he entered. There was no sign of David so John left his keys on the coffee table and wandered through to his room. He stopped in the doorway. David was sitting cross-legged on the bed drawing in his sketchbook. John took the moment to just look at the man dressed in the same pair of old track pants he’d given him on that first night and a crumpled T-shirt. A grin spread across John’s face at the sight of David barefoot and with definite bed head.

The butterflies increased their dance when David looked up at him and smiled.

Forget
your planters filled with flowers, the sudden appearance of ice cream vendors and Christmas decorations appearing next to the tram lines on Melbourne streets; the one sure sign of summer is not having to turn people away before the doors are closed.

Barbara smiled as she looked around the main dormitory area of the shelter. The beds were freshly made and ready for the evening, but the nights were warm and many of those without their own beds chose to sleep outdoors. She didn’t blame them; the shelter provided a refuge for some and safety for others, but when the beds were full and the lights were out the air hung with despair. She banished the thought; the sun was shining outside and she’d had a win.

Barbara picked up the tray of mugs and carried it through to the reception area. It had taken a couple of Sundays, but the shelves were almost done. She couldn’t help but grin at David as he carefully measured the last of the wood while Jamie sat cross-legged on the floor beside him chattering, totally oblivious to the fact that David rarely answered. This had been the pattern for most of the morning; David quietly going about his business while Jamie flitted around the room handing him tools or supervising over his shoulder.

But she had already figured out that initial impressions of Jamie were deceptive. Many would have quickly written him off as a sweet but naive young man; however, Barbara’s experienced eye saw a lot more. Yes, Jamie was sweet, but he was also perceptive and displayed an empathy that was quite rare.

Besides, it was very obvious that David liked him and it was a huge step that David felt comfortable enough to include him in this. Barbara watched their interactions and found it interesting, but she supposed not surprising that it was Jamie here and not John.

Jamie looked over and saw her cautious walk across the room, expertly balancing the laden tray while stepping over an assortment of books, wood off-cuts and discarded tools. He grinned and, with a gentle stroke to the back of David’s hair, got up and lifted the tray from her.

“Tea break,” he announced as he placed the tray on the floor. David stopped what he was doing, picked up a mug and leaned back against the wall. He was pleased with his morning’s work and the sense of achievement showed in his face as he sipped at the hot tea.

“Looking good, David,” Barbara announced, only partially referring to the shelf she ran her hand along.

“Getting there,” he smiled quietly.

Even
in his old apartment with its full housekeeping service, John had always made his own bed and organized his own laundry. He often wondered if that was one of the few things he allowed himself to carry out of Yorkshire; the need to take care of the basics and see to yourself. Kept him grounded, he supposed. He stuffed the last of the pillowcases into the laundry bag and wandered through to the bathroom in search of damp towels.

The first thing he noticed on entering the room was David’s underwear and socks hanging on the rail of the shower stall. John looked at them and shook his head. Each night David would wash them out in the sink and hang them in the bathroom to dry. When John suggested he just throw them in with the other laundry he’d simply smiled and replied that he could manage.

John lifted them off the rail and neatly folded them. He left the laundry bag on the tiled floor and carried David’s things to the bedroom. The bottom drawer was still empty and John was very tempted to put them in there, but he understood that had to be David’s choice.

With a sigh, John squatted next to the backpack and unzipped the top. He could see next to the few articles of clothing, there were two sketchbooks now. John itched to look at David’s latest drawings and even began to reach for them, but stopped when he saw two cookies stashed down the side of the pack.
Oh, Dave…. You don’t have to do this anymore.

He closed the pack and placed the underwear on top.

John straightened, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at the pack. Things like that were little reminders that his life with David wasn’t your typical relationship; there was always so much more to complicate things, things that threatened to unbalance them no matter how small and insignificant they might seem.

He sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair.
Did I really expect Dave to follow me back to my real life, perhaps to attend executive get-togethers as my “significant other”?
His sad chuckle became a groan because John knew that wasn’t even a remote possibility. Apart from the fact open bisexuality wasn’t an option once you reached the top floors, David wouldn’t survive in that environment. And John wouldn’t put him through it.

David was making progress. He understood that, and lately the backward steps seemed to be outnumbered by the forward ones. Although he hadn’t said anything, John knew David’s chats with Barbara had taken on a more formal structure. John didn’t pry into what they talked about, but when he asked Barbara how David was doing she had replied a little cryptically, “I think you will be a better judge of that than me.” He hoped so.

The folded underwear again drew his focus.
Maybe this is my real life now?

By
the time he turned his key in the front door David was forced to give in to his exhaustion. The walk to and from the shelter, building the shelves, and talking to Barbara all took it out of him. David knew his sessions with Barbara were helping, but each little admission of information was hard fought and sapped his strength. There were so many issues and feelings twisted and tangled together that uncoiling them was slow and draining. David took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and pushed the door open.

David couldn’t see John, but heard him speaking in another room. He followed the sound of John’s voice into the kitchen where he found him leaning against the counter talking on his cell phone. The tone of his voice rather than the content of the conversation quickly alerted David that he was talking business.

“Look,” John said with barely concealed frustration. “I told you that you can’t tackle it that way unless you want the auditors on your arse and ultimately on mine.”

David gave him a half-smile, not wanting to interrupt. John lifted his hand to wave, but was clearly distracted by the person on the other end of the line. With a small nod David walked back over to the lounge area and flopped down on the couch. It still annoyed him how quickly his body let him down; barely an afternoon’s work and his muscles were complaining. He sighed and fell back against the cushions.

John moved away from the counter and watched David while he talked; his impatience with the caller increased by the second. Finally, he had had enough and barked into the receiver, “Listen, talk to Marian about it. No, she has all the details and will run you through them.” He disconnected the call and rubbed his hand wearily over the back of his neck.
Even a fucking phone call makes my head thump.
He looked across to David, slumped, eyes closed on the couch, and asked, “You want tea, Dave?”

“Mmm… yeah, please,” David answered in a voice that indicated he’d already started to drift off. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times and sat up.

He heard John turn on the tap to fill the kettle and leaned forward to pull off his boots. The leather was starting to wear through in a couple of places and the elastic had totally given up. He turned a boot over in his hands and looked at the sole; a small hole had started to form.
Cardboard will seal that well enough until winter
,
he decided and put the boots side by side on the floor.

With a small grunt, David lifted his foot to rest on the other knee and started to knead some life back into it.

“You sound tired,” John said gently as he placed both his and David’s mugs on the coffee table.

“A bit,” David lied.

John gave him a disbelieving smile and sat at the other end of the couch. “Here… give that to me.” He patted his knee and encouraged David to swing his legs around and lie back. John rolled off each sock and rubbed his palm over the hot soles. “I still don’t know why you won’t let me drive you,” he grumbled, starting to massage each of David’s feet in turn.

“I can manage… and I like to walk.” David smiled, watching John through heavy-lidded eyes.

Without stopping his ministrations, John huffed and mumbled half under his breath, “I know you can manage, but I might
want
to help.”

David sighed and nodded. His voice was quiet and more than a little content when he said, “Someone donated a whole box of oranges today.”

Even though it seemed like a change in topic, John knew better; this was David’s way of letting him in.

“Yeah?” he said, not really asking a question but allowing David to continue if he wanted.

“Mmm…. When they were cut up, the smell filled the room and it reminded me of being a little kid. I remember my mum coming out to the garden with an orange cut into three pieces for my brothers and me. We sat in the sun and ate them. I was laughing because we were sticking the whole wedge in our mouths so that all you could see was an orange-rind smile. My mum told us off, but she wasn’t really angry.” He paused and said simply, “It was a good smell.”

John’s fingers barely moved while he listened to David speak. David had just told him he had brothers. When David stopped speaking and met John’s eyes, John said one word. “Geraniums.”

David gave him a quizzical look and laughed. “What?”

“That’s the smell I remember,” John clarified as if it was obvious and gave David’s toes a squeeze. “The little plant pot of white flowers that sat on the dark green stoop; that’s the step at the door.”

David nodded and relaxed back into the story, easily picturing that little boy next to the flowers.

“I used to sit there and wait for my granddad to get home from work… or the pub if it was payday. Gran would growl at me for snapping the leaves, but I loved that smell. Not a smell I’ve really noticed as an adult.”

“Smells are different when you grow up, but they still tell you things,” David said, his voice becoming several shades darker. “I hated that I smelled bad, but there was nothing I could do….”

“I know, Dave,” John whispered, understanding it was useless to deny it.

“It meant so much to me that you let me use your bathroom to clean up,” David murmured. He paused and took a breath before asking, “Why did you, John?”

“I’m not really sure,” John answered truthfully. “Maybe it was a mixture of concern and shame.”

“Shame?” Coming from John the word seemed wrong, and it confused David.

“Yeah, Dave, shame. I judged you the minute I saw you. I wrote you off because of your clothes, the dirt on your skin, and yes, the smell.” Saying the words hurt John more than he thought they could but it was right to finally admit it to David. “Thank God for Jamie, huh?”

David nodded.

“He pushed and niggled at me to look past that and see the person. He kept letting me know what it might be like for you; that you were often hungry and couldn’t always get in the shelter on winter nights. I saw you trying to make a bed of cardboard in a doorway once, but when I went back for you the cops had moved you on.” John hesitated just long enough to take a quick gulp of air before saying quietly, “It was as if you were suddenly very real to me.”

“You went back for me?” David said more to himself than John, but John nodded and replied, “Yeah… I think I started to know even then that I was in trouble with you.” He turned and gave David a slightly embarrassed grin. “That night was the start of it and each time after that it was worse. When you came here after being beaten up I was worried sick, but still so bloody relieved to see you. Shit, you should have seen Marian’s face when I told her to leave. I sat and watched you most of the night. I kept telling myself it was just to make sure you didn’t die on me, but as much as I wanted to I couldn’t deny it any longer…. I knew I loved you.”

David dropped his eyes and let the silence hang for a long minute or two. His voice was almost a mumble when he started to speak. “You’d been working on the accounts for most of the morning; I guess Maggie wasn’t too good at balancing the books and you had that serious frown on your face the whole time. Except at one point your concentration wavered and you got this distant look in your eyes, almost sad. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough for me to fall in love with you.” His voice trailed off to be replaced by the rush of blood in his ears as he watched John’s stunned expression.

Wrong, wrong. Shouldn’t have said that
. Panic rapidly built in David and he almost missed when John whispered, “Do you love me, David?”

With courage he didn’t know he had, David carefully eased his feet off John’s lap and turned to crawl closer. Every instinct told him not to risk this, but David nodded and leaned in to let his lips brush against John’s.

John sat very still and let David kiss him, but when their lips parted his fingers found David’s hair, pushing it back to see his eyes. The astonishment on John’s face was replaced by a grin that almost split his face in two even though his voice still had an air of disbelief when he said, “I love you so fucking much.”