A Note in the Margin (24 page)

David let the fear slide away and matched John’s smile. He kissed John again, but this time—for the first time—it was equal. Neither led nor followed as they tasted and touched each other. John slowly slid down on the couch until he was almost on his back with David sprawled over him. The weight of David’s body on his was solid and real as they gently rubbed against each other, hips rolling in an unhurried dance as if the cloth separating them didn’t exist.

John’s skin was under David’s hands, his hair twined through his fingers. All else faded except for a nagging sound at the edge of his perception. Suddenly it registered: John’s cell phone. David quickly pulled away, his breathing heavy as he moved to the end of the couch. The loss of touch was bewildering and John slowly sat up to where he could reach David and said, “Dave? It’s just my phone. Ignore it. Let it ring out.”

David glanced down at his now-clasped hands and said solemnly, “It might be important, John. It might be your work.” John frowned and watched David’s all too familiar emotional withdrawal.
Aren’t we past this, Dave?,
he thought, getting more and more frustrated at the intrusion of the ring tone. “Fuck.” John cursed under his breath, stood up, and flipped open his phone. “What is it?”

The metallic voice began to tell him about problems finalizing a contract, but John was only half-listening. The talk of numbers just didn’t seem important and he realized he didn’t actually care about the portfolio he’d spent almost the whole of the previous year courting and setting up. It just didn’t matter. He looked at David sitting silently on the couch waiting for him and knew there was no real decision to make.

John let the caller finish his sentence and said in a surprisingly calm and sure voice, “I appreciate the call, Bob, but to be honest
that
is not my life anymore. I have something so much better.”

The
full summer sun was warm on the back of David’s shoulders. People bustled past the courtyard café chattering happily and swapping postcard-size reproductions of the artworks they’d just viewed, but David was content to just watch the man sitting across from him.

John looked up from the exhibition catalogue to see David smiling; he could feel the blush creeping up his face and asked, “What?”

David just shrugged and kept smiling until John gave an embarrassed laugh and growled, “Don’t give me that. Tell me!”

“Watching you pouring over the paintings; I guess I just didn’t expect to see you like that… you know, totally engrossed. lost in the pictures. You don’t seem the art type.”

John squirmed a little in his seat and went to close the book, but David gently put his hand over John’s and stopped him. “Why these pictures, John? As beautiful as the Pre-Raphaelites are, they’re not what I imagined you liking.”

“What did you imagine me liking?”

David grinned and said, “I dunno. Creative accounting?”

John pulled a face and made to swat him, but said, “When I was young, maybe seventeen, it was half-day closing and I caught the train to Birmingham for the afternoon. I’d just been paid and wanted to price new football boots or something. I can’t really remember what. Anyway, I know I didn’t have quite enough money and would have to wait at least another week.” David watched John’s eyes lose focus. This was always a good time, a chance to let go of recent histories and go back through tales of youth that gave glimpses of the journey.

“I’d taken a sandwich with me; Gran always packed me a lunch, and I sat in the park to eat. I’d just started and the heavens opened. Fuck, it started to absolutely piss down. I didn’t have a coat with me and there was no shelter so I grabbed my things and ran to the nearest building.” John stopped and shook his head, smiling at the memory. “It was a cathedral, a great bloody cathedral in the middle of the city. Not somewhere I’d usually venture.” He raised his hands to the sky to emphasize his words, making David laugh.

“I remember standing there huddled in the doorway shoving my sandwich in my mouth watching the rain come down. It didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon so I swallowed my last bite and decided to take a look inside.” John looked at David with total awe in his eyes and tried to articulate the wonder he’d felt at his surroundings. “I’d never been in a place like that before and… and it took my breath away. The color from the windows… it touched everything. I remember looking down at my hand; my skin was reds and golds, and I couldn’t believe how beautiful it looked.” He looked up and saw David staring at the upturned palm as if the colors were still held there after all these years and murmured, “I didn’t understand that the world could hold such beauty until then. I suppose I didn’t expect it.”

David met his eyes and smiled, making John clear his throat and look back at the book. “So… um, those windows I found out were by an artist called Burne-Jones.”

The noise of a bored school group briefly interrupted him and he shot them a disgruntled look. David merely shrugged and said, “The pictures don’t move and there are no shootouts or car chases, but you never know, John. Maybe one of them will find some
unexpected beauty
in the exhibition that they’ll remember when they’re all grown up. And if all else fails they’ll remember running their fingers over the waterfall window and maybe decide galleries aren’t too bad.”

John listened to the softly spoken words and he was awed by the beauty of David; he could see it clearly, both physically and spiritually. John began to reply when he saw David’s attention waver and it was obvious something behind John had caught his attention. The smile vanished from David’s face. John watched as he gripped the edge of the table and pushed himself to his feet, still staring over John’s shoulder.

“Dave? What is it?” John asked, looking around to see what had caused such a reaction.

David backed slowly away from the table and muttered what might have been, “I have to go.”

“David?” John stood up and reached for him, but he’d turned and begun to walk rapidly toward the exit. John called after him as he pushed his way through the summer crowds.

He quickly gathered his belongings from the table to follow, but became aware of a figure standing at his shoulder. The young man just stood and stared at the retreating back before he turned to John, his expression a mixture of hurt and bewilderment.

John was torn between going after David and talking to the young man whose features were so familiar through the many portraits in David’s sketchbook.

“That was my dad, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

John looked in the direction David had disappeared. He sighed, turned back to Adam, and nodded.

Adam was at a loss of what to do or say and it took him a few false starts before he managed to spit out, “Why did he leave? What did I do?”

John shook his head and held his hand up. “You didn’t do anything, Adam. Your dad has had some problems. Look, I really have to go after him and make sure he’s okay.” John pulled out his wallet and handed Adam a small cream business card with a new number penciled in above the neat typeface printing of the old one. He put his hand on Adam’s arm and said, “Call me, please…. I’ll do my best to explain.” John could see the confusion on the teenager’s face, but at that moment he couldn’t deal with that because he needed to follow David.

Without waiting for an answer John made his way through the crowded thoroughfare and jogged out the exit toward the car park, only slowing to a walk when he rounded the corner and his car was in view. There was no sign of David.

John waited by the car for more than an hour, looking as each person entered the car park, occasionally pacing the length of the roadway to the entry ramp. He checked the male toilets both on this level and the one nearer the gallery, his nerves jumping as he approached the car again in anticipation, picturing David quietly waiting for him.

But David wasn’t back.

John felt sick to his stomach when he finally turned the key in the ignition and backed the car out of the parking space. It felt wrong to leave, as if he was giving up and that David might still appear even though logically he knew he wouldn’t. The drive home was spent watching pedestrians, peering through the windscreen into doorways, and missing the change of traffic lights while he scanned every face. By the time he parked near the store he had all but convinced himself that David had headed home… to
their
home.

The apartment was quiet when John pushed the door open, but that didn’t necessarily mean David
wasn’t
there. It had taken John quite a while to understand and appreciate the silence that often surrounded David. He moved from room to room, feeling his dread grow with each empty space.

He looked on the kitchen counter next to the stacked mail and paid bills for what he knew would still be there; a small silver cell phone. It had been several weeks since John had bought the phone for David. He’d smiled and said thank you, but had never taken it with him or even put it in his backpack. John doubted that he’d even turned it on. He pushed the phone to the back of the bench and whispered,
Help me here, Dave.

The
sun had gone down and, other than the unrelenting tick of the wall clock, the apartment was silent. John sat in his armchair and stared into the darkened room. The stillness of his pose belied the agitation he was feeling. His head throbbed and every muscle threatened to twitch. He needed to do something. He just didn’t know what. When the phone rang, John virtually flew out of the chair and clutched at the receiver. “Hello, David?” he said breathlessly, hoping rather than knowing who it was.

A hesitant voice spoke on the other end of the line. “Hi, um… John. Is my dad okay?”

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he needed to answer the boy but found it extremely difficult to answer
that
particular question. In the end he replied quietly, “As far as I know, Adam.”

There it is again,
Adam thought.
He says my name as if he knows me….
“Has my d… has he ever spoken about me?”

John shook his head; the hint of a sad smile played on his lips. “David doesn’t talk a lot, lad, but he has told me about you. He misses you very much.”

Then why did he go?
The question was there between them, neither giving it voice. John heard Adam sigh before he asked, “Can I talk to him? Will he talk to me?”

How the fuck do I answer that? What can I tell him? That his father had a full-blown panic attack in a bus shelter at the mere thought he’d see him?
John rested the receiver against his forehead for a few seconds to compose himself, understanding that he couldn’t tell the whole truth but not wanting to lie to the boy. He took a breath and said as calmly as he could, “I don’t know…. Um, he’s not here right now. I’m sorry.”

Adam felt his throat close around a lump.
Please, John. He’s my dad.
His voice was very small when he asked, “Will
you
talk to me about him?”

I want to, Adam… so much. I want to tell you how much he loves you. What he’s put himself through to see you. The drawings and letters he’s written. That David is a kind, gentle man who despite everything has a dignity that….
John could feel the burn of tears at the back of his eyes and cut the thought short. That wasn’t helping. In a gentle voice, John said to David’s son, “Adam, please understand that I need to speak to David first.”

“What if he says no?”

What if he says no? Fuck!
John rubbed his fingers over his eyes. It hurt to hear Adam’s desperation.

When John didn’t answer, Adam pleaded quietly. “Please, John.”

“Give me your number, Adam,” John replied softly, knowing he had to try.

John made no attempt to brush away the tears that rolled down his cheeks when he replaced the receiver.
You were doing so well, Dave.
We
were doing so well
. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, rubbed his hand over his face, and looked at his armchair.
I can’t wait for you, David; I’m going to find you.
John shook his head and grabbed his car keys from the table.

By
now the streets were filled with people heading home to their own lives, leaving those without them behind to find something to fill their night. He’d tried several of David’s usual haunts to no avail and could think of one more before heading home. John parked the car, silenced the engine, and turned off the lights. He sat behind the steering wheel and looked out the window. There was a bright moon so he could easily see the front gardens of the park. The flowers, red and yellow in the sunlight, shone bright and colorless along the edges of the path.

John looked at them as he stepped out of the car and walked into the park.

John’s
feet stayed to the lit path of the park, but his mind wandered to places he prayed David hadn’t ventured.
Don’t go there,
he growled to himself and shook it off, somehow knowing that David had moved on from that. The night was still mild but John shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked the long path, constantly scanning the shadows and looking at the face of every lonely figure trying to find a quiet place to bed down.
I can’t find you if you don’t want to be found, Dave.
He sighed, but continued his determined walk.

Finally, he had to stop somewhere near the center of the park where a large round flower bed spiked off into a number of different paths. John stood and glanced down each as they disappeared around tree-lined corners. He sighed and out of desperation called David’s name, only to be abused by a young couple seeking the solace of a private moment away from home and parents. He quickly apologized and moved away. That’s when he heard the quiet reply. “I’m here, John.”

John turned in the direction of the voice and squinted until he could just make out the hunched silhouette of David sitting on a family picnic table, his feet resting on the long wooden bench. David didn’t make a move toward John, but simply sat and watched him.

Without a word, John walked over to sit on the bench next to David’s feet. He leaned back against the table edge where, despite his need to throw accusations or simply ask questions, John sat quietly and stared out into the park. Together they sat in silence until slowly John felt the tension in the man next to him begin to ease. He sighed a little and lifted his arm to drape it across David’s knee. John looked up and asked, “Are you okay?”

David gave the question serious thought before he nodded slowly and said, “He’s grown a lot over the last few years.”

David’s face was impassive, but John knew better. He moved off the bench and onto the table next to David, where he sat close enough to feel David’s body heat, but without actually touching. It was difficult to remain quiet. There were so many things he wanted to say to reassure David, but one lesson he’d learned over the past few months was to give David time.

After long minutes of silence, John slowly moved his hand around and placed it on David’s back to gently rub between his shoulder blades while he whispered, “There’s no hurry, Dave.”

David just shook his head and looked away. “I was coming home, John. I just needed to get away for a while, but I
was
coming home.”

“I know,” John lied.

The
drive home was quiet, with David slumped in the passenger seat, his unfocused gaze aimed at the passing sidewalk. David looked tired and defeated when John stole a quick glance. “Almost home,” he said softly and tightened his grip on the steering wheel when David repeated his words, “Almost home.”

As soon as John turned the engine off David got out of the car and walked to the apartment, where he waited. “Do you want something to eat? Maybe something to drink?” John asked as he led him up the stairs and through the apartment door.

David shook his head with a flat “No.” He hesitated in the middle of the room and looked at John. A small and somewhat apologetic smile fleeted over his features when he saw John watching him. “I’m sorry, John. No, thank you. I think I need to go to bed if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” John said and cleared his throat. “You go through; I’ll join you in a little while.” He reached out to touch David’s arm, but didn’t quite make contact and stood back while David nodded and walked wearily through to the bedroom.

John sat on the couch and let his head fall back. His eyes closed, but he still threw his arm over his face as if to shield him from the light.
We don’t need this now when things have been going so well.
He wanted to leave it, not mention the phone call and take the pressure off David, but John remembered the look on Adam’s face and the desperate tone in his voice.
He’s a teenage boy who wants to talk to his dad.
Thoughts about his own dad crept into the debate. He loved his granddad, but many times over the years he’d wondered not only what his dad was like, but perhaps more importantly, what he would think of the adult John. Would he be proud of how his son had turned out? There had been times in John’s life when that question was vehemently denied but lurked in his thoughts nevertheless.

Not tonight,
he decided.
Deal with it tomorrow.
He hauled himself off the couch, flicked the light switch, and walked into the bedroom. David was lying on his side so John couldn’t make out if he was asleep. The room was silent. He quietly undressed and climbed into the bed, where he lay looking at David’s back. As his breathing slowed and muscles began to settle against the mattress he heard the softly spoken question. “Did he talk to you, John?”

John’s chest tightened, although he knew the only way to deal with this was honesty. “Yeah. He’s very confused, Dave, but he wants to talk to you.”

David didn’t answer.

John shuffled closer and rested his chin lightly over David’s shoulder so that his cheek rested against David’s jawline. He took a small breath and said, “I gave him my cell phone number and he called me tonight.” John could feel David tense and was tempted to pull David back against his chest, but reached up instead and ran his hand over the curve of David’s shoulder; slow, soothing strokes.

David was torn between the need to know about his son and the desperate panic of Adam knowing what he’d become. “I can’t do this, John,” he whispered.

“He doesn’t know where you are.” John sighed, kissed the side of David’s neck, and rested his forehead against his hair. “I told him I’d talk to you…. I told him you might not be ready to talk yet.”

David’s breathing became uneven and John knew he was struggling, but he also knew that he needed to continue. “He asked if I’d talk to him. Can I do that?”

No answer came except a shuddering breath.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me now,” John whispered, his lips making gentle contact with the man in front of him. David nodded and reached up for John’s hand, pulling it around his chest. John wrapped him tightly against his body, pressed another kiss to his skin, and murmured, “I love you so fucking much.”

“
Fuck
!” Jamie said a little too loudly.

John quickly shot him a withering looking and growled, “Keep your voice down, Jamie. I’ve warned you about that before.”

Jamie glanced to the back of the store and held his hand up in way of apology. “So did Adam talk to him? Did David talk to Adam?” he asked at a more reasonable volume.

John shook his head and said sadly, “No, David panicked. I didn’t understand what was happening until it was too late and he took off.”

“Shit,” Jamie said softly and leaned back against the counter. “Poor Dave. It must have scared the hell out him.”

John’s stance softened; Jamie understood. “Yeah, I haven’t got much out of him about it.” John glanced up to the back of the store where he could hear the faint shuffle of books as David reorganized the shelves. He sighed and said very quietly, “Adam wants to talk to him.”

Jamie followed John’s eyes and frowned. With a sad shake of his head he mumbled more to himself than John, “He’s not ready.”

“I know, Jamie,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache threatening behind his eyes. “It’s so fucking hard because Adam’s hurting too. I talked to him on the phone; he asked me to meet him.”

“It’s a funny thing, John,” Jamie said softly. “I’ve worried and looked out for David for so long that it’s almost hard for me to consider how Adam must be feeling. Except, I know I’d hate to not have David in my life now.”

John looked up at Jamie and nodded with a quiet “Yeah.” But in the back of his mind lurked the long repressed thought,
but I’ve been on the other side too.

“Did you tell David?” Jamie asked.

John exhaled a long breath before saying, “I asked if it was all right; he hasn’t given an answer yet.”

“He will,” Jamie said with a surety that almost made John smile. John admitted, “To be honest, I was tempted to just go ahead and do it without telling him….” John saw that Jamie was about to interrupt and held up his hand. “Don’t worry. It was a fleeting thought. Just frustration, not one I’d act on.”

“Trust is a hard thing to earn,” Jamie said with a wisdom that would have surprised anyone who didn’t know him well. “Especially with someone who’s been through so much.”

This time John did smile and gently ran his hand over Jamie’s messy hair.

Oxford
Dictionary, Webster’s Dictionary, Dictionary of Famous Quotes….
The reference collection was solid and tangible; real. Something David could move around and hold onto. Each time his mind strayed back to the café courtyard or the conversation with John, he lifted another book and reorganized another shelf.

“You’ve done a lot,” John said quietly and placed a coffee mug on newly wiped shelving.

David stopped what he was doing and looked at the mug. He noticed it was one of the usual publisher’s mugs with green and blue script.
The writing blurs a little in the sweep of the “T” as if the transfer slipped during printing. Not perfect, so maybe the hairline crack doesn’t matter…. It might be all right that the letter is broken….

“Drink your tea, Dave,” John pushed softly.

David lifted the hot mug to his lips, but didn’t drink. It hovered close while he whispered, “Please don’t tell him what I did, John.”

John blinked at the words.
Is that permission?
He stood and watched as David sipped the coffee, his hands clenched a little too tightly around the steaming mug. He carefully put his fingers through the handle and eased the mug away to place it on a nearby shelf. “I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to,” John said gently and wrapped David’s hands in his own.

David stared at their joined hands and nodded, thankful of the contact to steady and ground him. They stood quietly until John dipped his head in an attempt to catch David’s gaze and asked, “You sure you want me to do this?”

A frown twitched across David’s brow and his lips tightened, but he nodded slowly and looked up. “Not sure about anything right now,” he said, “but
he
needs this.”

I think you both do,
passed through John’s thoughts.

John
found the number on his cell and waited until he heard a teenage voice on the other end. “What did he say?”

“Straight to the point, eh?” John chuckled nervously.

“Sorry… sorry, John,” Adam apologized. “It’s just when I saw your name, well….”

“It’s okay, lad,” John said quietly. “I understand.” He took a breath and started. “I spoke to Dave… your dad. He’s not ready yet, Adam… but you and I can have a talk.”

There was silence on the other end for quite a while, but John knew there was nothing wrong with the line. Finally Adam asked, “This afternoon okay?”

John glanced up at the clock and said, “That would be good. Just tell me when and where.”

Adam gave John the address of a café near his school and suggested they meet in an hour.

After John said his goodbyes he heard a quiet voice behind him. “Is he okay?”

John took a moment to compose himself before he turned around. One look at David’s body language said it all.
Better than you are right now, Dave.
“He’s disappointed, but he’ll be all right,” John said and then took the few steps to David and smiled. “I think he’s skiving off school to meet me though.”

David tried to smile, but his face contorted as he fought the tears that began a trail down his cheeks. John quickly pulled him close and whispered, “We’ll forgive him one missed class though.”