Just Visiting
By Kit
All the events and characters in this story are fictional and any
resemblances
to real people are purely coincidental.
The story is copyright of the author and may not be distributed or
placed on any web sites without written permission from the author.
I would like to thank my editor, Richard Lyon, for his hard work
and
encouragement and also Richie Ryan for his moral support. Any
remaining
errors are purely my own fault.
If you enjoy this story or have any comments about it, please feel
free to send me an email . I will respond to all emails except
flames.
Kit
kitzyma@yahoo.com
It was the first day of the first term of my first year at university
and the first
time I was living away from home. Classes wouldn't start for
another
couple of days, which was just as well because I was excited and
nervous
and so couldn't have concentrated on any lectures. By lunch time
I'd
registered, had a quick look around the crowded Freshers Fair and was
waiting
outside the Students Union building to meet up with John and
Martin.
Those two were also experiencing their first day at university and had
attended
the same school as I had. Although they were little more than
acquaintances
they were at least friendly faces in the sea of strangers.
Normally
I'm rather unsociable and they weren't exactly my friends, but they
represented
a sort of familiar security, otherwise I wouldn't have arranged to meet
them
for lunch.
"I'm starving!" John, a stocky dark haired lad said, "Let's go and get
some
grub."
"The Union's very busy," I said with a frown, "I bet we'll be standing
in
queues for ages... I s'pose we could go into the city centre?"
"It's lunch time," Martin said dismissively, "so it'll prob'ly be busy
there
as well... and be more expensive."
Martin, who was tall, blond and so thin that he looked deceptively
fragile,
appeared to be much younger than his eighteen years and maybe that was
one
reason he was trying, not too successfully, to grow a beard. He
also
came from a poor family and so was always trying to limit his
expenditure.
"Well, if you want cheap," John said cheerfully, "there's always the
Catholic
Chaplaincy. They're offering free food to Freshers and I hear
they
also have a bar with very cheap beer... and I doubt that it'll be
busy!"
"That sounds good to me," Martin said with a grin, then turned to me
and
added, "That okay with you, Terry?"
"The reason it won't be busy," I pointed out, "is that people won't
want
the God Squad breathing down their necks while they eat."
I'd attended Catholic schools since I was five but I'd not been a
believer
since I was fifteen, although I still felt there was some sort of
divinity
'out there'.
"Yeah, I guess that is a bit of a disadvantage," John said, indicating
he
shared my views at least in part, "but it can't be much worse than
school."
"But we have to go to Mass somewhere..." Martin began, showing that he
was
still a believer, then seeing the way we looked at him he blushed and
changed
tack, "And you won't get better value than free."
"That's true," John admitted, "And I am starving... C'mon, Terry, lets
go."
Realising I was outvoted, and not wishing to have to find somewhere to
eat
alone, I sighed and nodded my agreement.
oo00oo
The brick built Chaplaincy building, just across the street from where
the
three of us met up, was totally and utterly characterless. As we
approached
the unwelcoming wood and glass doors I lost my appetite and almost
changed
my mind about joining the other two for lunch. However, as they
were
the only people I knew in the whole city, I decided it wouldn't be a
good
idea to risk alienating them. As soon as we entered the building
the
hint of stale alcohol in the air provided evidence for the truth of
John's
statement about the existence of a bar. I hoped that his other
assertion,
that the beer was cheap, also turned out to be true.
The doors opened into a very short but wide passageway which led
directly
into a large hexagonal central room, in the centre of which were
tables
and chairs and around which were doors leading into other parts of the
building.
At the furthest part of the room was a table on which was the promised
food,
and adjacent to that was the bar. As John had predicted, the
place
was certainly not busy and there were only about twenty people
there.
A chubby ginger haired young man came to greet us and in a Welsh accent
he
introduced himself as Steve, the president of the Catholic
Society.
When he bade us welcome I hung back, allowing my companions to take the
brunt
of his attentions.
Steve pointed out a nearby table heaped with leaflets about the society
and
told us about the society's activities as he escorted us to the food
table.
Then after inviting us to help ourselves to the buffet-style food, he
went
over to greet some new arrivals. Martin and I immediately
attacked
the food while John, despite his earlier claim to be starving,
volunteered
to go the bar to get three pints of beer. My intention was to eat
and
drink as quickly as possible and then get out, whereas Martin's
intention
seemed to be to eat as much as possible and John, finding the beer was
indeed
cheap, apparently intended to drink as much as possible.
We had just sat down at one of the empty tables when a very young
priest
came over and introduced himself as 'Father Bill'. Despite the
fact
that he was quite attractive in a dark haired Irish kind of way, I
found
that his enthusiasm, though apparently genuine, made me want to escape
as
quickly as possible. Therefore I wolfed down my food as fast as I
could,
leaving the conversation to John and Martin. Actually, from the
conversation
I gathered that Martin was still a devout Catholic and that he intended
to
join the society as well as attending Mass in the Chaplaincy. I'd
just
finished my food and was downing my last drop of beer while thinking up
an
excuse for a rapid departure when a young man entered the room.
I've no idea why he immediately caught and held my attention as I'd
seen
dozens, maybe even hundreds of guys just that morning who were cuter
and
more attractive than this newcomer. Indeed, as I have a
particular
weakness for tall blondes, I don't know what attracted me to this short
guy
with dark brown hair. There was just something about him that
made
me sit back in my chair and watch him as discreetly as possible.
From
the way several people greeted him I guessed the he wasn't a Fresher
and
from the way he responded it seemed that he was as shy as me.
Then
he smiled at a girl who waved to him from across the room, and in that
moment
my heart was lost.
Now I must point out that my behaviour that day was very unusual for
me.
Well, looking at cute guys was quite usual, but meeting acquaintances
for
lunch, voluntarily going to a place associated with religion and
falling
in love at first sight, all those things were very unusual.
Indeed,
I didn't even believe that 'love at first sight' was possible, though I
had
been in love a couple of times and I had frequently experienced lust at
first
sight. However, at eighteen I was still a total virgin and had
never
even kissed another guy, so how was I to know what was and wasn't
possible
in the way of love?
"Ah, there's Andrew!" Father Bill said, standing up and breaking into
my
reverie, "I need to speak to him about the SVP meeting... Well, it's
been
nice meeting you and I hope we'll see you again soon."
Then he went off to speak with the guy who'd just stolen my
heart.
"SVP?" I muttered, mostly to myself.
The initials seemed vaguely familiar and it occurred to me that it was
one
of those school groups that I'd so carefully avoided. However, I
was
also wondering if whatever it was might be a way of seeing more of
Andrew,
provided of course that it wasn't too intimately associated with
religion..
"St Vincent de Paul society," Martin said, "they do charitable
stuff.
Ya know, visit the sick, help the poor, that sort of thing."
Oh dear, I thought to myself, that's not at all my sort of thing.
Being
an impoverished student, I didn't have any money to give away, I would
be
too busy studying to give up my time and I had a phobia about germs, so
being
near sick people was definitely out of the question.
Disappointed,
I decided to take my lusting elsewhere.
"I'm off to see more of the Freshers Fair," I said as I stood up, "Are
you
two coming?"
"Nah," John said, "The Fair will be on tomorrow as well, so I thought
I'd
have another pint here before I go."
"Yeah," Martin said, nodding, "and I think I'll grab some more of that
free
food. Waste not, want not as my mum always says."
"Okay then" I said, not at all disappointed at the prospect of
exploring
on my own, "I'll prob'ly see you in Hall tonight."
Then, with one last look at Andrew who was still deep in conversation
with
Father Bill, I headed toward the door. On the way I passed the
table
with the leaflets and without any real premeditation, I decided to see
if
there was one about the SVP. I quickly scanned the papers and
found
a couple with those initials written large on the front, so I
surreptitiously
pocketed them and headed for the exit, hoping no one had seen me.
oo00oo
The Fair was so busy that I had an unpleasant couple of hours pushing
my
way through the crowds. However, I persevered both because I
wanted
to make sure that I didn't miss out on anything and also because I
didn't
feel like going back to my tiny room in the hall of residence.
There
were lots of stalls filling three large rooms of the Union
building.
Some stalls offered information, for example about sexual health, but
most
were set up by university social and sporting societies hoping to pick
up
new recruits. Certain stalls were very busy, one of the most
crowded
being that of the Campaign For Real Ale who were offering to new
members
free tickets to a beer tasting.
Some stalls seemed to draw little interest and the most deserted of
these
was the Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgendered & Friends (LGBTF)
society.
Apart from possibly being put off by the ungainly politically-correct
name,
it appeared that no one wanted to advertise their sexuality by being
seen
signing up, even just as a 'friend'. Of course, the young man and
woman
manning the stall attracted many sidelong glances, but they seemed
unperturbed
and I'm sure that they didn't expect many people to join their society
in
such a public place. Although I'd been sure of my sexuality since
I
was fifteen, I was firmly in the closet and, needless to say, didn't
sign
up for the LGBTF. In fact, I didn't join any society at all.
That night it took me a long time to get to sleep, partly because of
the
excitement of the day, partly because of the strange room and bed, but
mostly
because I couldn't get Andrew out of my mind. Of course I'd had
crushes
before, on boys at my school and even on one of my teachers, but they
had
all involved people who were, at least in my eyes, exceptionally
attractive.
However, no matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn't think of
anything
about Andrew that was exceptional or even that fitted the 'type' that
usually
attracted me. He was at least four inches shorter than my average
height,
his dark brown hair was average and his build was average. I
hadn't
seen him close enough to assess his eyes, but his clothes were ordinary
and
typical of a university student. Despite all that, whenever I
closed
my eyes I saw his smiling face.
The next morning I woke up tired and irritable and after breakfast I
returned
to my room to look through the huge pile of literature, information
sheets,
course schedules, and suchlike that are handed out to new
students.
I'd only just started building my 'keep' and 'discard' piles when John
and
Martin stopped by my room to ask if I wanted to meet them for
lunch.
I declined, pointing out that I'd already seen all of the Fair and as
it
was raining I didn't feel like exploring the city. Returning to
my
piles of documents, I rapidly got bored and my thoughts drifted yet
again
to Andrew, and that reminded me about the SVP society leaflets in my
jacket
pocket.
One of the leaflets was just general information about the society but
the
other contained details of the local group which was based at the
Chaplaincy.
There was also a list of local society officers, one of which was:
Andrew
Molloy, vice president and visits co-ordinator. I wondered if
that
was 'my' Andrew and what exactly a 'visits co-ordinator' was.
Then,
almost reluctantly, I consigned the leaflets to the discard pile, but
not
before I made a mental note that meetings were at 6 pm on Wednesdays.
The next few days flew by as I settled into my classes and study
schedule,
and I made plenty of new acquaintances but no new friends. Even
if
I wasn't by nature a loner, I would have been too busy to be lonely,
though
I did have an occasional twinge of homesickness. Several times I
toyed
with the idea of going along to an LGBTF meeting, but then I told
myself
that I was too busy, though in reality my main reason for not going was
cowardice.
Despite being in a city full of complete strangers, I didn't like the
idea
that anyone would find out that I was gay.
Although there were many other things on my mind, whenever there were
quiet
moments, and always when I was in bed, my thoughts kept being pulled
back
to Andrew. On the second Wednesday afternoon of term I worked
late
in the library, researching for an essay, and on the way back to Hall I
passed
the Chaplaincy building. Okay, to be honest I didn't just
accidentally
pass it but in fact took a considerable detour, and despite my internal
denials,
in retrospect I'm sure that the timing, just before 6 pm, was also not
totally
accidental. Anyway, as I slowly walked past the Chaplaincy,
Andrew
strode quickly and purposefully across the road and into the
building.
Of course he didn't pay any attention to me even if he'd seen me.
However,
for some inexplicable reason, I followed him inside.
oo00oo
At the far end of the main room the bar was just opening up and there
were
a couple of dozen people standing or sitting around. Andrew was
talking
to a thin, red haired young woman who had a serious and slightly
irritated
expression on her face, so I just hovered in the background. Then
he
went over to talk to Father Bill, whereupon the red head suddenly
looked
in my direction and caught my eye before I could avert my gaze.
When
she started to approach me I grew concerned and I wondered if she'd
seen
me staring at Andrew and was about to berate me for it. Trying to
back
away, I just ended up backed against a wall with no choice but to await
my
fate.
"You're new here, aren't you? Are you here for the beer or the
SVP
meeting?" she asked, frowning.
She was clearly irritated by something but I had the impression that it
wasn't
me and that I was just getting the backwash of her emotions.
"Erm, can't I be here for both?" I asked lightly.
It was intended to be a joke to lighten the mood and divert her
negative
emotions away from me, but I immediately saw that it had backfired
badly,
because her frown deepened and her annoyance was now directed directly
at
me.
"Of course not!" she snapped, "you can't go around visiting people with
beer
on your breath!"
"Yeah, of course I know that!" I said, maintaining my smile through my
own
growing annoyance, "I was just joking."
She looked me up and down as if I were some interesting but slightly
distasteful
biological specimen and I began to think that she didn't believe
me.
"Well I'm glad you have a sense of humour," she said, forcing a smile
and
suppressing her irritation, "And, it's a good job you turned up because
we're
short of people and this is our first visiting night after the long
holidays.
Anyway, we'd better get in to the meeting."
Having said that, she herded me, along with a couple of others, into
one
of the side rooms.
oo00oo
The room was small and with a dozen or so of us in there it was almost
full,
making me feel a little claustrophobic. A quick glance around
showed
that about two thirds of those present were female. Having
ushered
me in, the red head closed the door behind us and then went to join
Andrew
on the other side of the room. After clapping her hands to get
everyone's
attention and then calling for quiet, she began to speak.
"Welcome everyone. I see there are some new faces here, so for
those
of you who don't know me, I'm Kate, society president, and this," she
said,
indicating Andrew, "is our vice president. This is our first
pre-visit
meeting and I'm glad that there are more of you here than turned up to
our
administrative meeting last week."
She paused to look around the room as if she were a teacher scolding
her
class, then her face softened into a slight smile as she continued.
"Still, we all know that what we do is more important than
administration,
so now let's get on to the important stuff. Andrew has organised
the
list of visits, and as usual he's tried to arrange it so that those of
you
who were with us last year will keep to the same visitees."
To be honest I'd not been paying too much attention up to that point as
my
mind had been preoccupied with the question of how I might make my
escape
without looking like a complete prat. I was also somewhat
distracted
because I found it difficult to take my eyes off Andrew, and I was
taking
this opportunity of being able to look at him without drawing attention
to
myself. However, Kate's use of the word 'visitee' drew my
thoughts
back to her and I wondered if such a word actually existed or if she'd
made
it up. Unfortunately, my deliberations made me miss an
opportunity
to slip out while everyone else moved forward to look at the list in
Andrew's
hands, and by the time I realised that such an opportunity existed,
Kate
materialised by my side and grabbed my elbow.
"Hello again," she said in a more gentle and friendly manner than the
last
time she'd addressed me, "I'm sorry about the way I talked to you
before,
but I was a bit stressed out. Our numbers are down on last year
and
I was worried we might not be able to keep our commitments for
tonight.
I'd hate to disappoint any of our visitees, especially as this is my
first
term as president."
"It's okay," I replied nervously.
I felt embarrassed and a little guilty because despite her words I
still
wanted to escape. However, as her attention was on me and indeed
her
hand still gripped my elbow, I couldn't see any way of retreating
gracefully.
As I looked around in mild desperation my eyes met with Andrew's and I
saw
that he was looking at me with a small shy smile. I don't
understand
why, especially as I'd never even spoken to him, but it seemed to me
that
even if I did manage to escape now, then I'd be letting him down, and
for
some reason I was very reluctant to do that. Kate must have
sensed
my nervousness and hesitation because she spoke to me in a very gentle
and
reassuring tone.
"You're a Fresher aren't you? No need to be nervous," she said,
making
me drag my eyes away from Andrew, "We're all very friendly here
and
you'll find that visiting those less fortunate than yourself can be
very
rewarding."
For the first time I took note of the way she was looking at me, and
the
expression on her face, combined with the fact she was still holding on
to
my arm, caused me some discomfort. I had the strong impression
that
she fancied me, although I didn't understand why. Admittedly I
was
quite proud of my swimmer's body, but I didn't think that my looks were
otherwise
exceptional. At a little under 6' I wasn't particularly tall, my
short
hair was a little too dark to be described as blond and my eyes were a
very
ordinary hazel. Still, without wishing to seem immodest, that
wasn't
the first time that a girl had apparently found me attractive.
One girl in my school spent almost a year trying to chat me up and
always
tried to sit near me in class. During that time she also used to
go
to almost every swimming competition I took part in. At first the
way
she looked at me in my Speedos freaked me out a bit, but after awhile I
got
used to it, and eventually she gave up. However, despite my
previous
experience I still hadn't worked out a good way of dealing with that
sort
of situation, so if Kate did fancy me, I decided it would be best to
ignore
it.
"By the way," she said, breaking into my thoughts, "I'm sorry I forgot
to
ask, what's your name?"
"T-Terry," I said, stuttering slightly in my embarrassment.
"Well, Terry, let's see what Andrew's got on his list. Don't
worry,
we always make sure that new people are paired up with an experienced
visitor."
With that, and still gripping my elbow, she led me toward Andrew as I
pondered
her last words. Knowing my luck, I thought, I'd be paired up with
Kate
or one of the other females. Still, there was always hope that
something
good could be salvaged out of the disaster of my current predicament,
so
as we approached Andrew I uttered a silent prayer to my
nondenominational
divinity. By that time it seemed that almost everyone else
had
received their assignments, and some were jotting down addresses while
others
were preparing to leave. Kate introduced me to Andrew and for the
first
time I got a close look at his lovely green eyes.
"As he's new," she said to Andrew after he'd greeted me, "I thought you
might
assign him to go with me tonight."
My heart sank and without conscious thought I cast a pleading look
toward
Andrew, though I thought that even if he wanted to, he seemed too shy
to
stand up to Kate's strong personality. However, his response
surprised
me.
"Ah, sorry. I'm afraid I've already put you with Stephanie," he
said,
somehow managing to sound both firm and diffident, "She's new too and
specifically
asked if she could be paired with another woman. So I thought I'd
take
Terry with me tonight."
Although it was obvious that Kate wasn't too pleased with his reply, it
seemed
that she couldn't do much about the situation apart from accepting it
as
gracefully as possible. She turned to me with a wry smile as I
silently
thanked the unknown beneficent deity who had so surprisingly answered
my
prayer.
"Oh well, sorry about that Terry," she said as if she expected me to be
disappointed,
"Maybe next time."
Then she went off to join a skinny young woman with long dark hair who
was
standing about half way between us and the door. While Andrew was
gathering
his papers together from the small table beside him, everyone else left
the
room, leaving the two of us alone together. Partly because I was
nervous
and partly because events had carried me along so quickly since I'd
impulsively
followed Andrew into the building, I was bemused and couldn't think of
anything
to say, so I just stood there with a rather silly smile on my
face.
As I was considerably taller than him and as he was bent over putting
papers
into his bag, I took the opportunity to look at him close up.
Although
his medium length hair was an unremarkable dark brown, it was
luxuriant,
glossy, slightly curly and seemed to bounce as he moved. Of
course
I resisted the strong urge to run my fingers through his silky locks,
though
it took considerable willpower. Then, taking me by surprise, he
quickly
looked up and our eyes met briefly before we both averted our
gaze.
"Right," he said in a businesslike manner, "now we're ready to go."
He must have read the confusion in my face because he flashed his small
shy
smile at me, that same smile that had melted my heart and now almost
melted
my knees. In order to steady myself I put my hand on the table
which
had held his papers.
'Now Terry,' I thought, 'get a grip on yourself. He's only a very
ordinary
guy and he's probably not gay, and even if he were he probably doesn't
fancy
you, and even if he did, being so closely associated with the God Squad
he'd
probably suppress it. You've already got yourself into a mess by
following
him in here, why not cut your losses, say you're feeling sick or
something,
and go back to Hall.'
"Are you okay?" he asked with a worried frown.
Just as I was about to use his question as a prompt for me to claim
illness
as an excuse for leaving, his hand covered mine on the table.
Startled,
I looked down just as he immediately withdrew his hand and gave me an
embarrassed
and apologetic look, an unspoken implication that the touch was purely
accidental.
However, with that brief touch I realised that all was lost.
"Yes," I said shakily, "I'm just a bit nervous... I've never done
anything
like this before."
"What?" he said, giving me a strange look, "You've never visited people
before?"
Even before he spoke I knew that what I'd said could be open to more
than
one interpretation, so I quickly tried to explain.
"Well, actually I've never been to visit strangers before... except
maybe
when my parents might have taken me somewhere when I was a kid."
"Oh, yes, I know it can be difficult, but you get used to it," he said,
then
with a smile he added, "But you can pretend I'm your parent if it makes
it
any easier."
The way he said that, combined with the difference in our heights,
washed
away my nervousness and brought a smile to my lips. That was my
introduction
to Andrew's acute but understated sense of humour.
oo00oo
Andrew didn't say anything else as he led me out of the building and
along
the road that led toward the city centre, and as I wasn't keen on
mystery
tours I had to ask him where we were going.
"First stop," he replied without slowing his rapid pace, "is Mr Barns
on
the West Side, then down toward the river to see Mrs Tanner."
"And we're walking all that way?" I asked incredulously.
"Of course! It's a fine night and only about twenty minutes to
Mr
Barns' house. If we wait for a bus it could take at least that
long."
His walking speed increased even further, so I was grateful that years
of
swimming had built up my stamina and I wondered what Andrew did to
maintain
his obviously high degree of fitness. Whether he was conserving
his
breath or was just naturally laconic I don't know, but the continued
silence
was increasing my nervousness still further.
"I s'pose you've visited these people before?" I asked.
"Yes, most of last year," he replied, showing no signs of
breathlessness.
"Well can you tell me a bit about them and why we're visiting
them?
It might help me to know what to say to them."
He slowed a little and looked at me with a frown, apparently giving
careful
thought to his response.
"You really don't know what we're doing, do you?" he said eventually,
"Why
did you volunteer for visiting?"
"Like I told you, I'm new to all this," I replied, deciding that it
would
be wiser not to answer his second question. After all, I could
hardly
tell him the truth, that I'd got trapped into it because I'd fallen in
lust
with him.
"Well first of all," he replied, "they're not 'these people' and we're
visiting
them because we want to. If you go with the idea that you're
doing
a favour for the needy then it won't help them and you won't enjoy
it.
If you go worrying about what you're going to say then it will be an
uncomfortable
time for everyone. Yes, they may ask for help with little jobs
like
changing light bulbs and stuff, but that's not why we visit. Just
think
of it as visiting a friend, or in your case, a potential friend...
which
is why I'm not going to tell you anything about them. You should
take
them as you find them without someone else filling your mind with
preconceived
ideas."
After that long speech, delivered with considerable passion, he lapsed
back
into silence. Bearing in mind that I wasn't really keen on this
whole
visiting situation anyway, I was more than a little irritated by the
fact
that he wouldn't give me any more information. However, because I
was
hoping to get to know him better I didn't want to antagonise him, I
just
took a deep breath and tried to absorb what he'd said. As my
irritation
began to fade I considered how pleasant it was just to listen to his
voice
and how I might of overestimated his shyness.
Mr Barns turned out to be a cranky widower in his late sixties who
lived
in a tiny Victorian terraced house. He seemed perfectly able to
get
about and probably even capable of changing his own light bulbs, so I
wondered
why we were there. He and Andrew did most of the talking during
the
hour or so we spent with him. Once I tried to make conversation
by
asking about the photographs on his mantelpiece, but he told me to mind
my
own business. Of course that irritated me so when Mr Barns said
something
derogatory about immigrants during his conversation with Andrew, I
couldn't
resist tackling him on the matter. That led to a heated
discussion
on politics, during which Mr Barns called me some quite unpleasant
names,
and the discussion ended only when Andrew said we had to go.
"That went well!" Andrew said cheerfully as we walked downhill toward
the
river.
"Yeah, right!" I responded sarcastically, assuming he was being
facetious.
"Yes, really," he said with a grin, "I think he likes you."
"Seems to me like he hates me," I retorted.
"Oh, no. If he didn't like you he'd ignore you, like he did with
the
previous two people I took with me. He thrives on confrontation
but
only if he thinks he's got a worthy opponent, which he must think you
are
otherwise he wouldn't have resorted to name-calling so quickly.
Now
he respects you, so you'll probably find him more pleasant next time we
see
him."
Actually, I rather doubted there would be a 'next time' but I didn't
want
to say that to Andrew, so instead I changed the subject with a question.
"He seems quite fit and capable to me," I said, "why does he need
visitors?"
"Don't you understand yet?" he replied, giving me a look of
exasperation,
"He doesn't need visitors, he needs friends. His wife died about
three
years ago and she was his whole life. Most of his old-time
friends
have died and his family all live far away... a couple of months after
she
died he tried to kill himself... Oh, and by the way, that's
confidential,
so keep it to yourself."
Another ten minutes or so of our high-speed walking brought us close to
the
river and to a modern single storey block of six flats which, according
to
Andrew, were 'sheltered accommodation'. Mrs Tanner, a thin woman
in
her eighties, buzzed us in and greeted us at the door with great
enthusiasm.
Well, to be precise she greeted Andrew with great enthusiasm, some of
which
overflowed in my direction when he introduced me to her. She
treated
him like a long-lost child and it seemed that he returned her affection
because
I later found out that he sometimes went to see her outside of his
normal
SVP visiting times.
"There's cake and sherry in the kitchen, Andrew pet," she said as she
limped
back to her armchair, "Be a dear and bring it through while I say a
proper
hello to Terry here."
At the sound of the word 'cake' my stomach rumbled and I remembered
that
as I'd missed dinner in Hall, I'd not eaten since my mid-afternoon
snack.
She invited me to sit on the sofa and I complied, marvelling at her
energy
and, apart from the limp, her apparent good health. My gran, who
was
about twenty years younger than Mrs Tanner, never seemed so fit and
energetic.
In fact, because I'm quite shy, I was a little intimidated by her
extrovert
personality. She was also very observant because she detected my
nervousness
even though I tried to hide it.
"Well young man," she said jovially, "there's no need to be
nervous.
I don't bite... and I certainly wouldn't bite a friend of Andrew's even
if
these were my own teeth!"
She gestured briefly at her dentures and laughed at her own little joke
while
I smiled uneasily. I didn't point out that as I'd never even
spoken
to Andrew before that night I couldn't honestly claim to be his friend,
though
I certainly wished that I were. Andrew returned from the kitchen
carrying
a tray on which were a vanilla cake and a bottle of sweet sherry,
together
with plates, glasses and cutlery. He placed the tray on a low
coffee
table next to Mrs Tanners chair, whereupon she proceeded to cut
portions
from the cake while Andrew poured the sherry.
The combination of sherry and cake was one that I hadn't tried before
and
in any case sherry was definitely not one of my favourite drinks, so I
was
expecting to have to force myself to eat and drink with them just to be
polite.
However, possibly because of my hunger or maybe because of the
sweetness
of the sherry, I found the combination surprisingly palatable.
During
and after our little snack Andrew and Mrs Tanner chatted away, with me
making
occasional contributions, mostly in response to direct questions from
Mrs
Tanner. The first time I addressed her as 'Mrs Tanner' she mildly
rebuked
me and told me to call her 'Mary' just as Andrew did. At first
such
familiarity felt a bit strange, but partly because of her friendliness
and
partly because of the relaxing effects of a second glass of sherry, I
soon
got used to it.
At around nine thirty Andrew announced with genuine regret that he had
to
leave as he had to finish off some work for one of his classes the next
day.
He went to the kitchen to wrap the leftover cake and wash the plates
and
glasses, then Mary insisted on getting up to escort us to the
door.
Before we left she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, which
amazingly
didn't seem to embarrass him, but I was relieved when she merely
squeezed
my arm and said that she was looking forward to my next visit.
Bearing in mind how chatty Andrew had been with Mary, I thought he
might
have been more talkative with me after we left her, but he returned to
his
former laconic self. At first I just followed him in silence
until
it occurred to me that I was in a part of the city that was unfamiliar
to
me and as a new arrival I had no idea which bus to catch to get
home.
When I voiced my concerns he asked me which hall of residence I lived
in
and then he told me that although he lived in a different one we could
get
the same bus, so I continued to follow him in silence until we reached
our
bus stop.
He seemed very shy and almost nervous while we sat next to one another
on
the bus and he responded to my occasional questions with only the
briefest
of answers, so I wondered if this could be the same person who chatted
so
easily with Mary and even with the irascible Mr Barns. It seemed
that
my desire to get to know him better was doomed to failure and I felt
annoyed
at myself for wasting the whole evening as well as missing my
dinner.
So when we got to my stop I got up and said a somewhat sulky
monosyllabic
'bye'.
"I'll see you next week, then," he said, smiling for the first time
since
we left Mary's flat.
As I'd already started making my way along the aisle, my only response
was
a noncommittal grunt
oo00oo
That night in bed, although I entertained myself with fantasies
involving
Andrew, after my release of sexual tension I more-or-less decided that
I
wasn't going to go to any more SVP meetings or visits. The whole
thing
was too closely associated in my mind with the God Squad and I could
think
of many more useful and interesting things to do with my
evenings.
After all, Andrew wasn't that special and he certainly hadn't shown any
interest
in getting to know me. He also hadn't even said definitely that
we'd
be paired for future visits, and the prospect of me being paired up
with
Kate was too horrible to contemplate.
The next few days passed quickly because I was busy with studies and
settling
in to life at university. On the Saturday night I even went on a
pub
crawl with people from my hall of residence, telling myself that it
would
be a good way to explore the city. Although I enjoyed myself more
than
I expected, I suffered from the after effects all day Sunday and my
memory
of the locations of the pubs was vague to say the least. What
weren't
vague, however, were my memories of Andrew's face and his musical
voice,
and several times per day, especially when I was in bed, my thoughts
were
drawn to him.
On the Wednesday evening, despite my previous decision that going to
the
SVP meeting would be a waste of time, my desire to see Andrew again
dragged
me to the Chaplaincy building. However, because of the conflict
between
my intellect and my emotions, I was late arriving and most of the
assignments
had already been handed out. When I entered the room Andrew gave
me
a brief shy smile and Kate greeted me with grin.
"I'm glad you turned up again," she said, grabbing my arm and leading
me
toward Andrew, "I've not been paired off with anyone yet."
"Oh," I said, my mind racing, then I had an idea, "I'm sorry but Mary..
Mrs
Tanner said last week that she was really looking forward to seeing me
again
this week. Isn't that right, Andrew?"
I looked at him pleadingly and he nodded his head.
"Yes, she did," he said in a neutral tone, "and Mr Barns seemed to like
Terry
as well... and you know how unusual it is for Mr Barns to get on with
people."
Kate was clearly unhappy at having her plans foiled two weeks in a row,
but
to give her credit I believe that she really did put the interests of
the
'visitees' above her own pleasure, and so she went off to find another
unpaired
Fresher.
The trip down to Mr Barns' house was much like the previous week,
with
Andrew saying very little. As he had predicted, Mr Barns was much
less
hostile to me, though he rapidly started a heated discussion with me,
this
time not on politics but on abortion and the interference of science in
the
process of reproduction. Andrew stayed in the background during
this
and I got the feeling that he was a little relieved that he could leave
me
to argue with Mr Barns.
Later, Mary again greeted Andrew as warmly as before but this time she
also
seemed genuinely happy to see me as well. There was chocolate
cake
but no sherry, so we washed it down with tea. On this occasion
she
spent a lot of time questioning me about my background, parents,
interests
and so on, giving me the impression that as I'd turned up more than
once
she now considered that it was worth the effort to find out more about
me.
One of her questions puzzled both Andrew and me - she asked how we'd
met
and how long we'd been friends. I left that for Andrew to answer.
"We only met last week at the SVP meeting," he said, making no mention
of
any friendship.
That response seemed to take her by surprise, but she quickly recovered
and
continued trying to find out more about me. However, she also
began
mentioning more about herself and, interestingly, kept bringing Andrew
into
the conversation by asking him questions like how his sister was doing
in
school, how he was enjoying his course, had he thought anymore about
his
future, and that sort of thing. Andrew seemed a little taken
aback,
as if she were asking about things she already knew, and I wondered if
she
had problems with her memory and if it was a sign of senility.
During the conversation I found out more about her, and it seemed as if
her
memories of events long ago hadn't deteriorated at all as she recounted
in
detail some stories of her colourful past. She'd married when she
was
in her twenties and she and her husband, Joe, were happily married for
over
forty years before he died of cancer. Unfortunately, they hadn't
been
able to have children. For most of her working life she had been
a
paediatric nurse and I wondered if that might have been some sort of
compensation
for not having children of her own. Joe was also fond of children
and,
so Mary said, he'd been a talented amateur magician, frequently giving
shows
for the children at the hospital where she worked.
When Andrew stood up, pointing out that it was almost ten o'clock and
saying
we should be going, I was surprised at how quickly the time had
passed.
As before, Mary hugged Andrew and kissed him on the cheek, but this
time
I too received a hug, though thankfully without the kiss. On the
way
to the bus stop Andrew was again very quiet, but once we got there he
actually
initiated a brief conversation.
"Ya know," he said without looking at me, "considering how nervous you
were
at first, you're really good at this."
"Good at what?" I asked, not exactly sure what he was talking about.
"Making friends with people," he said, "When I first started it took me
ages
to be able to talk to people and make friends as quickly as you do."
"You think Mary and Mr Barns think of me as a friend?"
"Aren't you?" he asked, turning to look at me with a frown.
"Well," I said after a pause to consider the matter, "if I am, it's
only
because I was with you and you were their friend already. I'm
sure
I wouldn't have been able to talk to them at all if I'd met them on my
own."
oo00oo
During the next couple of weeks I settled comfortably into life at
university
and began to learn my way around the city. Each week I went with
Andrew
on the SVP visits and Kate quickly got used to the idea that I only
went
on visits with him. The visits themselves went on much as before,
although
on the third time I saw Mary she seemed to be irritated with both
Andrew
and me, though neither of us could understand why. Occasionally I
saw
Andrew around campus and we exchanged brief greetings but never had any
real
conversations. A couple of times I even went into the Chaplaincy,
telling
myself it was for the cheap beer or to see Martin, who had become a
regular
there. Deep down, though, I knew it was because I hoped to see
Andrew.
However, on the second occasion I was waylaid by Kate and so decided
not
to risk going again.
By the time that the fifth week of term had started I'd convinced
myself
that I had no chance of becoming close to Andrew so there was no point
in
causing myself heartache by trying any more. Also, I reasoned,
even
if we did become friends then that's all we'd ever be and I doubted
that
I'd be content with that. I decided that it was better to make a
clean
break. Therefore, on that Wednesday I just didn't bother going to
the
SVP meeting. Yes, I know I should have sent some sort of message,
but
I was too cowardly and didn't know what to say. I told myself
that
they'd managed without me before and they'd manage without me now I'd
stopped
going. Although I felt a bit guilty about just 'dropping' Mr
Barns
and Mary, I reassured myself with the fact that they'd still have
Andrew.
However, I didn't sleep well that night.
The following evening I was studying in my room when Martin came
knocking
at my door.
"Are you okay?" he asked when I let him in.
"Yes, thanks," I said, puzzled, "Why do you ask?"
"Well when I was having my lunch time pint in the Chaplaincy, Kate and
Andrew
came to ask me about you cos they know we're friends and that we're in
the
same hall of residence."
I noted that there was a slight hesitation when he said the word
'friends'
and I guessed that he, like me, wondered if the word was really
appropriate.
"Anyway," he continued, "when I said you seemed fine at breakfast, Kate
seemed
annoyed that you'd let them down."
"Was Andrew annoyed as well?" I couldn't help asking.
"Dunno. You know Andrew, it's hard to tell what he's thinking...
Anyway,
Kate asked me to come and check up on you and ask if you're turning up
next
week."
"I have a really heavy workload this term," I lied, " So I'm not sure
I'll
have time for visiting. Tell them it's best not to count on me
and
to assume I won't be going."
"Okay," he said, turning to leave.
"Oh, and Martin," I added, "Thanks for checking that I was
okay...
Will you tell Kate and Andrew I'm sorry that I didn't have time to tell
them
yesterday that I couldn't turn up."
He smiled and nodded, then left me to contemplate my lies.
oo00oo
The next evening there was another knock on my door, and as I rarely
had
visitors I assumed that it was probably Martin with some follow-up
message
from Kate. Much to my surprise, when I opened the door I saw
Andrew
shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. As soon as I
opened
the door he looked up into my eyes then quickly looked back down to a
point
somewhere near the middle of my chest.
"Andrew!" I said before shock, embarrassment and guilt tied my
tongue.
"Can I come in?" he said eventually in a strained voice and without
raising
his eyes.
Only then did I realise that I'd been standing there silently in the
doorway
for several seconds.
"Oh, erm, yeah," I said, then stepped back to allow him to enter.
He stepped inside, quickly looked around the room, glanced briefly at
my
face, then fixed his gaze on my chest again.
"Hope you don't mind me coming to see you..." he said hesitantly,
"Martin
told me what room you're in."
"No, of course I don't mind," I replied, "Look, I'm sorry about last
night....
work, ya know."
"Yeah. Martin said. That's why I'm here... to see if I can
give
you a hand with anything? Give you more time so you can go
visiting
nest week. Mary really missed you... even Mr Barns."
As I was studying sciences and his main subject was history, I wondered
how
he thought he might give me a hand. I wondered, even dared to
hope
that perhaps it was really Andrew who'd missed me, but in that case why
hadn't
he shown any interest in me during all the times we were together, even
when
we were alone, walking or on the bus. Against my better judgement
I
allowed hope to determine my response.
"I'll tell you what, I'll see if I can get myself organised better and
try
to make sure I have time next week," I lied.
He gave me a shy smile and in my hopeful mood I half expected him to
accept
my invitation to stay for tea or coffee, but he seemed very eager to
leave
so I didn't try to persuade him when he declined my offer.
oo00oo
The following Wednesday Kate seemed happy to see me again and thanked
me
for turning up, so I assumed that she'd believed my workload
excuse.
I was disappointed when Andrew greeted me as he always had, with just a
brief
smile, and I was even more disappointed when he was no more talkative
than
he'd been before. He was his usually chatty self with Mary, but a
couple
of times she seemed a little impatient with him. She appeared to
be
impatient with me as well, and besides that I had the impression she
was
annoyed at me but trying to hide it. As I couldn't think of any
other
explanation, I assumed that she'd taken my absence the previous week as
a
personal slight.
After we left Mary's flat Andrew was just as uncommunicative as ever on
the
way to the bus stop and on the ride home. My hopes of getting
closer
to him began to fade again and yet again I felt that I was just wasting
my
time. However, I felt trapped because I didn't have the courage
to
tell him that I didn't want to participate in any more SVP
activities.
The following week my frustration showed itself as irritation during
our
visits. Mr Barns either didn't notice or didn't care, but Mary
certainly
noticed my irritability and I think that Andrew detected it also, but
he
didn't react in any way. Mary, however, asked me outright what
the
problem was but I just apologised and lied about pressure of
work.
After that, I decided that enough was enough and that I would tell
Andrew
that I wasn't going to go on any more visits. However, I also
kept
putting off the execution of that decision and before I knew it another
Wednesday
had rolled around. Cursing myself for my cowardice and
procrastination,
I determined that rather than just not turn up, I would have one more
visit
then take the bull by the horns and announce my decision to Andrew on
the
way home. Full of resolve, I arrived at the SVP meeting to find
that
Andrew wasn't there and that Kate was handing out assignments.
"Andrew's got the flu," she told me, "and so have a couple of others,
so
we're very short of people and we won't have any pairings. You'll
have
to visit Mr Barns and Mrs Tanner on your own."
"Don't worry," she added when she saw my look of concern, "You'll be
fine.
You know them pretty well by now and anyway, Andrew says you're a
natural."
There was nothing much that I could say in response to that, and as I
didn't
want to disappoint my 'visitees' I went off to see Mr Barns.
Walking
there on my own felt odd and even though Andrew rarely spoke when he
was
with me, I felt almost lonely without him. Once I'd explained the
situation
to Mr Barns he seemed quite content and even said he was glad Andrew
had
stayed away because 'at my age the flu can finish you off'.
However,
Mary's reaction to Andrew's absence was definitely not what I expected.
"Of course I'm sorry that the poor dear is ill," she said, "and I hope
he's
going to be better soon, but in a way it's lucky because I was hoping
to
get to talk to you alone."
"Er... Why?" I asked, feeling a little disconcerted.
"Well, for the last few weeks you've been behaving rather strangely,
and
different from how you were when you first started coming round.
It's
been quite upsetting... especially for my Andrew."
I opened my mouth to give her the usual 'overwork' excuse, but she cut
my
off before I could make a sound.
"Now don't give me all that stress-of-work rubbish. I worked with
kids
for long enough to know when they're trying to pull the wool over my
eyes.
I've grown very fond of you over the last few weeks and I want to know
exactly
what's happened to change you recently, so sit down and tell me what's
going
on."
I sat down, more than a little resentful that she'd referred to me as a
kid
when I was almost nineteen years old. However, I had no intention
of
telling her that I was frustrated and depressed because Andrew kept
shutting
me out and he didn't even seem interested in becoming real
friends.
Perched on the sofa with my arms crossed, I maintained a somewhat sulky
silence.
Mary shook her head and sighed.
"You think about things for a minute and I'll get us some sherry," she
said.
A few moments later she returned from the kitchen carrying the tray on
which
were two glasses and an almost full bottle of sherry. Seeing the
bottle
swaying as she limped toward me, I started to get up to give her a hand
but
before I could fully stand up she told me to sit down again. She
poured
us each a large glass, gave one to me and sat back in her chair with
the
other.
"Right, young Terry," she said in a gentle but serious tone, "drink
some
of that and relax, then tell me why you've been so touchy recently."
At first I just sipped my drink and tried to think up some plausible
lie.
When it became clear she was prepared to wait patiently for me to
reply,
I drank some more and did indeed begin to relax. She smiled at me
gently
and before I could protest she leaned over and topped up my glass, then
just
as I began to hope that she'd forgotten her question, or at least had
decided
not to pursue it, she spoke again.
"After eighty six years on God's Earth," she said, smiling at me
knowingly,
"I think I've learned to recognise a love-sick young man when I see
one."
Startled by the accuracy of her guess, my hand jerked and some of the
sherry
trickled down my fingers. As I licked it off I took a strange
satisfaction
from noting that I'd been promoted from kid to young man. Again
she
topped up my glass.
"I'm right, aren't I?" she continued with a hint of triumph, making it
more
of a statement than a question.
Perhaps it was the effect of the alcohol or maybe because she seemed so
genuinely
caring and harmless, but without any real thought, I broke my silence.
"Maybe," I admitted reluctantly.
"And as it's been making you so miserable I can guess that your love
isn't
returned?"
My only response was to shrug my shoulders, so after a few moments she
continued.
"I don't suppose you want to tell me anything else... like who it is?"
I shook my head 'no' and looking away from her, I began to study the
pattern
on her carpet. She sighed again and for a few minutes we both
remained
quiet, sipping our drinks.
"I know!" she said brightly, breaking the silence, "Why don't we work
some
magic?"
I looked at her, wondering if she'd gone mad or had been badly affected
by
the sherry. After all, I had no idea how an old woman like her
might
react to too much alcohol.
"No," she said with a smile, "I'm not crazy. But for everyone's
sake
we need to sort out your problem, and I can only think of two
solutions.
Either you stop being in love or the other person starts loving you
back."
Although there was some logic behind her words, neither of her
'solutions'
seemed very practical.
"Easier said than done," I mumbled.
"Not if we do a bit of magic," she responded.
Again I wondered if she were senile, or drunk, or both and if she
thought
she were some kind of witch. Whatever the case, though, I thought
that
it would probably be best to humour her.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, I know one bit of magic that might work," she said, "if you
write
down your name and the name of the person you love on a piece of paper,
I'll
recite a spell over it and then you can throw the paper in the
fire.
The fire will then either burn away your love or set the other person
on
fire with love for you. Either way, your problem is solved and we
get
our nice friendly Terry back."
"Mmm, no," I said as soothingly as I could, "I'd rather not. I
don't
believe in magic."
There was no way I was going to risk her seeing me writing 'Terry
Kennedy
loves Andrew Molloy'.
"C'mon," she said, "What have you got to lose? If you like I'll
leave
the room while you write the names, then you fold and scrunch up the
paper,
I recite the spell and you put it in the fire. Your secret will
still
be safe and if it doesn't work you're no worse off than you are now."
Instead of replying I just took a big swig of sherry, emptying the
glass.
"Why not do it for me?" she wheedled, "Just to please an old woman."
My resolve began to crumble, and I reluctantly agreed.
"But only if you're not in the room when I write it," I added.
She gave me a pen and a sheet of paper from a small note pad and then
she
went into the kitchen, telling me to call her when I was ready.
My
first instinct was to write down a random girl's name, or even 'Terry
loves
Mary' - now that would screw up any magic! However, for some
reason
I decided to write the truth, then I folded and crumpled the paper and
called
out to tell her I was ready.
"Right now, Terry," she said when she returned, "stand up and hold out
your
hand with the piece of paper resting on your palm."
I did as instructed but I began to panic when she placed her hand palm
down
on mine.
"Don't worry," she soothed, "the paper will be on your palm all the
time.
I'm just touching it to pass on the magic."
She made some incomprehensible sounds and then removed her hand, and
much
to my relief the paper was still there.
"Okay," she said, "throw it on the fire and watch it burn."
I did as she instructed and when the paper had burned completely to ash
I
looked back at her with a questioning expression on my face.
"Now we wait a few days," she said as if she really believed all this
nonsense,
"and next time you're here we'll see if it's worked."
oo00oo
The following Wednesday I almost didn't go to the SVP meeting but at
the
last moment I decided to do so, partly because I wanted to see if
Andrew
had recovered. When I got there I was relieved to see he was
okay,
though he looked a bit pale and washed out. However, he was
obviously
well enough to maintain his usual rapid walking pace when we set off on
our
visits. After spending about an hour with Mr Barns we arrived at
Mary's
flat, where she made a fuss over Andrew and got me to prepare the tea
and
carry in the cake while he 'rested' on the sofa. For a half
hour
or so the visit proceeded as usual, then Mary inserted a question into
a
brief lull in the conversation.
"Did the magic work?" she asked casually.
Because of the way that it was just slipped into the conversation, I
answered
the question automatically.
"No," I said.
"No," Andrew said almost simultaneously.
We looked at one another and I could see my own emotions of surprise,
shock
and alarm reflected in his face. We both looked at Mary, who was
grinning
at us in a way that I found rather disturbing.
"Well maybe," she said, holding up a piece of crumpled paper in each
hand,
"that's because these weren't burned properly."
I was horrified and my first instinct was to try to grab the pieces of
paper,
but if she resisted I was afraid that she might be hurt. Then I
realised
that in any case I didn't know which piece of paper was mine, so I sat
back
feeling defeated, betrayed and ashamed. Taking a quick glance at
Andrew
I got the impression that he was experiencing a similar range of
emotions.
"I'm sorry that I had to trick you," she said, addressing both of us,
"but
I love you both and you were both getting so miserable that I had to do
something...
even if it meant you never came to visit me again."
She opened up the crumpled pieces of paper and placed them on the
coffee
table next to the cake tray, one piece where I could reach and the
other
where Andrew could reach. We both grabbed the nearest paper but
as
her betrayal had led me to half expect, the piece in my hand was not
the
one I'd written. The one in my hand said 'Andrew loves Terry',
and
I suppose that should have made me happy, but instead it made me feel
even
more embarrassed. A surreptitious glance at Andrew gave me the
feeling
that he felt the same, and after that we avoided looking at one another.
"How?' I asked, just to break the uncomfortable silence.
"Why?" Andrew added immediately.
"It was a simple substitution when I placed my hand over yours.
An
easy trick when you've been married to an amateur magician for over
forty
years. As for why..."
She sighed, sat back into her chair and suddenly looked very tired.
"Fond as I am of you, Terry, I love Andrew as if he were my own flesh
and
blood. After knowing him for more than a year I can read him like
a
book," she said to me, then turned her attention to Andrew, "The first
time
you brought Terry I thought I saw something in your eyes, then on his
second
visit I noticed that when he answered my questions you drank in his
every
word. I was sad because I knew you'd be too shy to say or do
anything,
but at the time I thought that was for the best anyway because I
thought
Terry might react badly if he found out."
"But... But what made you think I'm... ya know..." Andrew asked,
his
voice trembling.
"When you've seen so many people in love, you learn to recognise
it.
But no, I didn't think you preferred boys until I saw the way you kept
looking
at Terry and especially when I saw how upset you were that time he
didn't
turn up. Oh, I know you're good at hiding your feelings, but you
couldn't
hide it from me and that's why I played the little paper trick on you,
just
so I'd know for sure..."
"And you don't mind if I'm gay?" Andrew asked, the last word being so
quiet
that it was barely audible to me, so I suspected that Mary hadn't heard
it
at all.
"Of course not!" she replied, clearly understanding his question even
if
she didn't hear all of it, "I've told you, you're like a son to
me.
I know that you're a lovely caring person, so what does it matter who
you
love?"
"But how could you know about me... how I felt?" I asked, "You don't
know
me as well as you know Andrew."
"I didn't," she replied, "I guessed you were in love with someone and
that
you were trying to keep it hidden. I hoped for Andrew's sake that
it
was him . But I knew that if it was him then he'd be too shy to
encourage
you and that would make you as miserable as he was. So I played
the
same trick on you. If you hadn't been in love with Andrew, if
you'd
put some other name on the paper then I'd have forgotten it and burned
it.
At least then I'd know and could concentrate on helping Andrew get over
you."
"Suppose I'd refused to write anything? Suppose I'd just written
down
any old name?" I asked, "After all, I didn't believe in the mumbo-jumbo
and
just went along with it so I wouldn't hurt you feelings."
"You're a nice boy," she said, "so I knew you'd go along with it.
Of
course I didn't know that you'd be truthful, but I felt in my old bones
that
you would be. And if you did love Andrew then maybe fate intended
you
to get together... though sometimes fate needs a helping hand from us
ordinary
people."
"I don't believe in fate," I said emphatically, "What's the point of
doing
anything if it's all just fate?"
"Sometimes I think that fate is just another word for God," she said,
"He
exists whether you believe or not. I think fate provides certain
paths
through life that are for the best and gives us the opportunity to
choose
those paths. We still have to use our free will to decide if we
will
follow one of the right paths or choose a wrong path or no path at
all."
To be honest, that made no more sense to me than her previous 'magic'
mumbo-jumbo,
but I didn't say anything. In any case, I was more concerned with
what
would happen next and I still felt betrayed by her trickery, despite
her
motives. Just because everything was now out in the open didn't
mean
that all our problems would go away, and in fact there were probably
new
problems looming ahead. Even if Andrew did feel the same for me
as
I did for him, it was still possible that he would still reject me
because
of his religious beliefs or because he was afraid of what others might
think.
By then it was getting late and I was feeling very tired. Andrew
looked
weary and hollow eyed, and Mary was slumped in her chair. I stood
up
and announced that I was leaving, then looked down at Andrew who still
looked
shocked and shaken.
"Are you coming?' I asked him.
He nodded and stood up, then Mary wearily got out of her chair and went
to
the door with us.
"Will you come back?" she asked quietly.
I waited for Andrew to reply but when he didn't I spoke up.
"I will if Andrew does," I said, and we both looked at him.
"Yes," he said eventually, "we'll see you next week."
As soon as we got outside the building, instead of heading toward the
bus
stop, Andrew and I halted and as if by some mutual agreement, we
simultaneously
turned to look at one another. In the darkness of the night his
eyes
twinkled, reflecting the light from the lamp above the doorway, and he
smiled
shyly but didn't speak. My mind was recovering from the shock of
Mary's
trickery and now the significance of the events of the previous few
minutes
sank into my brain. Andrew loved me. All this time we'd
both
been too afraid to show our feelings, and even now I wanted to make
absolutely
sure.
"It's true then?" I asked, careful to avoid the L-word, "Not just more
of
Mary's tricks?"
He didn't speak but his smile broadened and he nodded his head, and
those
small gestures brought me more joy than all the words he'd ever spoken
to
me before that time. In fact I couldn't remember ever being
happier,
and I felt a big stupid grin spreading across my face. As if
mirroring
my reaction, his little smile also widened into a grin.
"What now?" I asked uncertainly when the silence began to become
uncomfortable.
"Dunno," he said seriously after a brief pause, then he grinned again
and
added, "I've never done anything like this before."
As if reading his mind I knew immediately that he was intentionally
echoing
what I'd said to him the first time we spoke to one another. I
laughed
briefly and quietly, showing that I'd understood his little joke.
"That makes two of us," I said, "but I'm sure we'll work something
out."
We walked to the bus stop in silence, lost in thought as we wondered
what
the future might hold, and when we got there we stood close together,
sheltered
by the night and the deep shadow of a nearby hedge. We'd been
there
for a couple minutes when his hand crept tentatively into mine and I
gave
it a welcoming squeeze. Then I felt deep inside that we'd be
alright.
We still had to work out where things went from here, but at least we
knew
that we'd be working it out together.
oo00oo
The End
oo00oo
If you enjoyed this story you might like to take a look at "Tapping",
one
of my longer stories on the Nifty Archive. You can find it at:
/nifty/gay/highschool/tapping
Enjoy!
Kit