By Kit
This story is a revised version of Not Always Easy, the original of which
was posted to the Nifty Archive a couple of years ago. It
is a story about a gay teen male and may involve sexual activity between
males, so if this is likely to offend you, or is illegal where you live then
do not read any further. 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.
Chapter 24 - Friendship Is Not Always Easy
James and I arrived at the GLYG meeting shortly after its usual start
time of 8 pm and found that there were less than a dozen people there.
All but one of the organisers were on vacation, and he decided to skip the
formal 'announcements' part of the proceedings and made it a purely social
event. There was no sign of Rob, Tony, or his friends, but Simon was
there chatting to a girl I didn't recognise.
With such a small number of people in the room, James was certain to have
spotted Simon already, but I decided to point out the obvious.
"Not many here tonight, but I see your biggest admirer is here," I said to
tease James as we approached the drinks table.
"Don't know what you mean," he replied unconvincingly.
"I'll buy the drinks," he continued, clearly eager to change the subject
before I could respond, "What d'ya want?"
"Mmm, fizzy orange, please."
He bought my drink and a Coke for himself, and as he waited for his change
I noticed him furtively glancing over in Simon's general direction.
"Seriously, though," I said as we wandered away from the drinks table, "he
does like you, and I'm not just teasing you."
He looked at me and frowned slightly before he replied.
"I've noticed that sometimes you say 'Seriously, though' when you're not
being serious at all," he said suspiciously.
"Well, maybe sometimes," I responded, blushing, "but now I'm being really
serious."
He waited a second, looked into my eyes, then grinned.
"If you'd included the word 'honestly' in that sentence I would've been sure
you were just winding me up."
"Well I didn't and I wasn't," I said indignantly, with more than a trace
of defensiveness.
"Anyway, if he really fancied me, why hasn't he said hello?"
"Maybe cos you virtually ignored him last time he did?"
"I didn't ignore him... I just couldn't think of anything to say."
We stood in silence for a few seconds, then began discussing our imminent
vacations. Several times during our conversation I noticed him looking
over at Simon, and even more frequently I glimpsed Simon looking at us.
As we chatted I considered my feelings when Simon had first shown an interest
in James, and I wondered if my opinion that Simon was too old for him was
based on the real situation or generated by my big-brotherly protective feelings
. Because of all that James had been through, in many ways he was more
mature than other boys of his age and, as Dan had pointed out, there was
only a couple of years difference between them.
Simon seemed very sweet and gentle, and certainly not the predatory type,
so I decided that regardless of any boyfriend possibilities he could be a
good friend to James, who could certainly benefit from having more friends.
Therefore, although I'm not normally the sort of person who interferes in
the private lives of others, I decided to make an exception in this case.
Noticing that Simon was standing at the edge of a group of four people close
to the drinks table and that he didn't have a drink in his hand, I had an
idea, though the plan wasn't exactly subtle.
"Want another drink?" I asked James, "It's my turn to buy."
"Okay, then, I'll have another Coke."
I went over to get our drinks, nodding and smiling a greeting to Simon as
I passed him. Then on my way back to James I went over and spoke to
Simon.
"Hi, Simon, could you do me a quick favour?"
"Sure," he replied, looking mildly surprised by my request.
"I'm dying for a pee and I wonder if you could hold my drink for me till
I get back?"
"Uh, yeah, of course."
He seemed a little confused, possibly wondering why I hadn't asked James
to hold my drink. Knowing my plot was unsubtle and full of potential
flaws, I didn't give him time to consider the matter, and quickly handed
him both my orange juice and James' Coke.
"Oh, and would you give the Coke to James, please?" I asked as I turned away
from him.
Without waiting for a response, I quickly made my way to the door.
As soon as I left the room, my pace slowed and I proceeded in a more
leisurely manner in the direction of the toilets. In fact, I did want
to pee but the need was by no means urgent, so to give my plan more time
to work I went as slowly as I could without appearing to be loitering suspiciously.
Thus almost ten minutes had passed before I returned to the meeting room,
where James and Simon were engaging in what appeared to be a slightly nervous
conversation.
James saw me first and gave me a puzzled frown, then Simon noticed James'
expression and turned toward me. The expression on Simon's face was
less easy to read but I thought that it contained more suspicion than accusation.
It occurred to me that my best course of action would be to avoid questions
by taking the initiative and 'hitting the ground running', as the saying
goes.
"Sorry about that," I said to James, "but I desperately needed to pee."
Before he could reply, I turned to Simon and plucked my drink from his hand.
"Thanks, Simon, you saved my bladder!" I quipped, then quickly added, "But
you don't have a drink... let me get you one. What will you have?"
My tactic of not giving them too much time to think seemed to be working
because he responded almost by reflex.
"Erm, Sprite, please."
"Right, then," I said breezily, "I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
With that, I immediately turned and made my way to the drinks table, leaving
the two of them alone together. So far things had gone according to
plan, but I knew that things could still go wrong. They hadn't seemed
very comfortable together, so maybe I'd misinterpreted their attraction for
one another. After all, unlike Dan, I'm not very sensitive about such
things.
If I was wrong then James would certainly be very annoyed with me and Simon
would probably not trust me in future. Even if wasn't wrong there was
a good chance that James would still be a little annoyed with my interference.
With that in mind I decided to take as long as possible getting the drink,
not only to give them more time together but also to delay the possible discovery
that I'd screwed up. When I returned to them I breathed a huge sigh
of relief when I saw they were now talking more comfortably and even exchanging
genuinely happy smiles. They fell silent as I got close, and grinned
knowingly at me. Not surprisingly, I blushed deeply.
"We're not stupid," James said accusingly as I handed Simon his drink.
I stared at him, not sure what to say and pretending that I didn't know what
he was talking about. Simon, clearly enjoying my discomfort, remained
silent.
"C'mon, Paul," James continued kindly, "I've known you since I was a little
kid... you can't hide that guilty look from me. You know what
I mean."
I blushed even more deeply and hoped that Simon would take things with equal
good humour.
"Erm, yes," I mumbled, "I was just trying to help."
"I didn't need any help," James said, glancing at Simon, then adding almost
grudgingly, "but I s'pose you meant well."
"James was just telling me about his holiday," Simon said after a brief silence,
obviously eager to change the subject.
The conversation went on easily from there for several minutes before I noticed
that the room was almost empty. There had been no sign of Rob or Tony
and I realised that they certainly wouldn't be turning up now.
"Almost ten," I commented as I looked at my watch.
"Are you going to the pub?" Simon asked hopefully.
"No, I want to get home," I replied, then before James could speak I added,
"and anyway, James is too young to go."
James, flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, glared at me,
while Simon gave me a slightly startled look and appeared as if he was considering
a response.
"Oh. Okay, then," was all he eventually said.
James , probably because he was annoyed with me, made his way to the exit
more quickly than Simon or I did, so he was some distance in front when Simon
whispered in my ear.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome," I grinned back at him.
From his tone and attitude I presumed his gratitude was for my attempt at
getting them talking rather than for my implying that James was under the
legal age. Nothing else was said as Simon walked with me to the car,
where James was waiting.
"Want a lift anywhere?" I asked Simon.
"No, thanks, I'm only going over to the pub," he replied, then turned to
James, "Call me after your holidays?"
"Okay," James replied with a grin as Simon waved and walked away.
Despite my curiosity, I waited until we were in the car before I spoke.
"Call me?" I prompted James pointedly.
"He gave me his phone number when you got him a drink," he replied with a
note of triumph and a hint of defensiveness.
"Oh, I see," I said cryptically as I started the car.
Though I was tempted to tease him a little, it seemed better to let the matter
rest for the time being. After all, I didn't want to risk spoiling
my earlier good work. So we sat in silence as we drove home, with me
feeling more than a little smug and James no doubt relieved that I didn't
ask any further questions. Of course, as soon as I got home I immediately
called Dan to tell him the gossip.
The rest of the week flashed by in a blur. Almost before I knew it
we were on our way to Skye and I was sitting snuggling with Dan in the comfortable
leather seat in the rear of his dad's Jaguar. We had set off early
on the Saturday morning so that we could get to our destination in one day's
drive. Fortunately, I had stayed over the previous night at Dan's house
because 5 am was far to early for me to fully wake up. Steve had also
stayed at Dan's house that Friday night because he would be house-sitting
for them while we were away. Had I not been so dazed with sleep, I
might have been more surprised that Steve had got up so early to wave us
off. As it was, I hardly noticed that Dan had more-or-less dressed
me and helped me to the car, where I immediately returned to my slumbers.
We arrived at the cottage early in the evening and decided to just freshen
up and find somewhere to eat before unpacking. It didn't take long
to find a nearby inn, where we had a pleasant but, by Dan's standards, 'ordinary'
meal. Although it was only a little after 8 pm when we finished eating,
we were all tired and so went immediately back to the cottage to unpack and
have an early night. Before bed, we took turns in the single small
shower, Dan and I showering separately. I showered last, while Dan
finished unpacking, and when I returned to our bedroom in my newly-bought
dressing gown, he was waiting just inside the door .
"Close your eyes," he whispered in my ear as he grabbed my arms from behind.
Thinking that this was the start of one of our little sex-games and knowing
that his parents had already retired to their room, I obeyed. Observing
my compliance, he led me to the bed and sat me down.
"Keep your eyes closed and hold out your hand," he said, taking his hands
off me.
Again I obeyed and as this was not a game I was familiar with, I was intrigued.
However, I was totally relaxed because I trusted him completely and knew
he'd never do anything to hurt me. After a few seconds, during which
I heard him close the bedroom door then unzip one of his bags, I felt a small,
cold object being pressed into my palm.
"You can look now," he said as he sat next to me and put his arm round my
waist.
Even before I opened my eyes I knew it was a ring.
"Thank you, gorgeous," I said, then kissed him on the cheek and continued,
"but you didn't have to..."
"Of course I know that," he interrupted, "but I wanted to do it, and it just
felt... well, right, I s'pose."
"It's just like the one I gave you," I said, as I examined it more closely.
"Well, apart from the inscription, it's identical."
I lifted the ring closer to my eyes and read the inscription, 'And Ever',
which was in exactly the same script as the one on the ring I'd given to
him. He took off his ring and held it next to the one I was inspecting.
"Get it?" he asked with a twinkle his deep-brown eyes.
At first I was too befuddled by emotion to understand, but then I understood.
"Ah, yes, clever," I said, my voice beginning to crack, "Forever... And Ever."
He smiled, put his arm back around my waist and squeezed, knowing that I
understood what he'd intended.
"Sounds a bit like a fairy tale," I continued, not completely as a joke.
"Maybe it is," he giggled, "but you're more of a fairy than I am!"
That almost started one of our play-fights, and sensing I might be about
to pounce, he pulled away, preparing to defend himself. However, I
held myself back and became a little more serious.
"Before I get my just revenge for your insult," I said, "there's something
I want us to do."
"I thought that would be after..." he said with an evil grin.
"Not that," I grinned back, "You've got a filthy mind!"
"Only since I met you!"
"Anyway," I said, becoming serious, "this is what I had in mind."
We were each holding our own rings, and I gently took his from him, then
looking into his eyes, I held his hand.
"Together forever," I said solemnly as I placed his ring on his finger.
He held my gaze as his gentle smile grew larger, and I knew he understood
exactly what I was doing. Then he became as solemn as I had just been,
took my ring and placed it on my finger.
"And ever," he said.
We stayed like that for a few seconds, before I began to feel embarrassed,
wondering if Dan was thinking I was a being a bit cheesy.
"I hadn't realised you were such a romantic!" he said teasingly, rescuing
me from my embarrassment.
"Now it's time for my revenge!" I growled playfully.
I pounced on him and we wrestled around on the bed for a couple of minutes,
but soon our play-fight turned into a most exciting but tender love-making.
That holiday on Skye was probably the happiest time of my life so far.
The weather was warm, it didn't rain too often, and the scenery was gorgeous.
I even got to drive Mr Harris' car a few times, and the combined feeling
of luxuriance and exhilaration gave me the ambition to own just such a car
one day. Dan told me that his dad must really trust me because he hardly
ever let even Dan's mum drive the car. However, I did note that I was
only allowed to drive when his dad was a passenger.
Our large and well-appointed cottage was nestled between the steep hills
and the sea, just a couple of minutes walk from a quiet, rocky beach, and
although it was only a couple of miles to the nearest habitation, it felt
completely isolated. Because of the location it was also isolated in
regard to our mobile phones, which couldn't receive any signal anywhere within
walking distance of the cottage.
Much to my relief, the two bedrooms were at opposite ends of the building
so there was plenty of privacy for me and Dan. Although we had some
sort of sexual interaction at least twice per day, we didn't have anal sex
every day. Also, as our experience of anal sex developed, Dan decided
he liked both giving and receiving about equally, whereas I obtained more
pleasure from being inside him. Thus , as the holiday progressed, it
turned out that he was on the receiving end about three-quarters of the time.
We spent about half our daytimes with his parents, visiting castles, etc.,
but the rest of the time, for example when his parents went to the whisky
distillery, Dan and I were alone together. However, every evening all
four of us ate together, usually at a restaurant. In that way the two
weeks flew by quickly, and although I could go on for ages describing all
the enjoyable details, my main pleasure was just being with Dan.
During the whole time on Skye I never read a newspaper and rarely watched
TV. As far as I was concerned the world outside the island may as well
not have existed. Occasionally I thought about my family and wondered
how James and John were getting on in their shared room on holiday.
Once or twice I thought about Rob, but selfishly pushed those thoughts out
of my mind because I didn't want to risk any such worries spoiling my perfect
vacation..
Even when Dan mentioned Rob, I would rapidly change the subject, and that
would cause him to look at me a little askance, but he didn't press the matter.
Maybe my avoidance of the subject made him think I wasn't concerned about
Rob's welfare, but he didn't say anything. Perhaps I was being callous
and selfish, and I still feel guilty about it today, but how could my worrying
help Rob? My guilty feelings were further placated by the thought that
in order to contact Rob I would have had to drive miles to a public phone
and that even if I did call him, he would probably have his phone switched
off.
All too soon our two weeks on Skye came to an end and we made the long drive
home, arriving at my house late on Saturday evening. My family and
James had arrived back from Bournemouth just a couple of hours earlier, so
the house was in chaos with them still unpacking. Dan's parents went
inside briefly just to say hello, but declined the invitation to stay for
a cup of tea because Mr Harris was tired and they wanted to get home.
Dan decided to go home with his parents because he was keen to see Steve
and tell him about our holiday and the little 'ceremony of the rings'.
For some reason it seemed Dan attributed the exchange of rings to me, though
I felt it was a mutual idea. Whatever the case, Dan had been so impressed
by what had happened that he'd started referring to it as the' ceremony of
the rings'. On the morning after the event, he even announced it as
such to his parents, and doubled my embarrassment by giving me sole credit
for the idea.
As soon as Dan and his parents drove off to go home, I felt a terrible empty
feeling. For two whole weeks the two of us hadn't spent more
than a few minutes apart, and as their car disappeared from view I felt as
if a part of me was missing. I went back inside, telling myself that
I was just being silly and sentimental,. especially as I would be seeing
him again the following day. Mum was waiting for me in the hallway
went I went back into the house, and as soon as I closed the door she gave
me a big hug. I was very grateful that no one else was in sight, though
I was still a little embarrassed by such an unusual show of emotion.
"Motheeeerrrr!" I whined.
"Well, I've not seen you for ages," she said as she released me, "This is
the first time you've not been on holiday with us, and we all missed you."
Seeing me turn red with embarrassment, she smiled and continued.
"And at least I waited till Dan and his parents had gone!"
"Thank goodness for that!" I said with genuine relief.
"We tried phoning you a few times," she said, almost as an accusation, "but
your phone was never switched on. Didn't you get our messages?"
Suddenly I remembered that soon after I'd found that my phone didn't work
at the cottage, I'd switched it off to conserve battery power. Since
then I'd not needed to use it and so had completely forgotten to switch it
back on. This I explained to her.
"Yes, your dad said it was probably a problem with your phone, but I couldn't
help worrying a little."
"You worry too much," I said, my smile negating any hint of criticism.
"I was just about to order pizza," she said, suddenly changing subject as
I bent to pick up my bags, "do you want your usual?"
"Yes, please," I replied, turning to go upstairs.
Upstairs in my room, as I was emptying my bags I realised that no matter
how much I'd enjoyed my vacation, I was happy to be back in the secure familiarity
of my home. A few minutes later, as I was dumping clothes into
an already full laundry basket, John came looking for me. His smile
of greeting was superimposed on a slightly worried frown.
"Isn't your phone working?" he asked without preamble.
A little irritated by the directness of his question and the fact he hadn't
bothered to ask about my holiday, I ignored his question.
"I had a wonderful holiday, thank you for asking," I said, my voice dripping
with sarcasm, "and did you have a good time in Bournemouth?"
For a moment he seemed shocked, almost as if he'd been slapped in the face,
and I immediately regretted my sarcastic response.
"Erm, yeah," he said, recovering his composure, "but what about your phone?"
I gave him the same explanation I'd given Mum earlier.
"Oh," he said, "in that case, have you checked your messages yet?"
"No, not yet, but I will as soon as I finish this," I replied, then continued
in a teasing tone, "Why d'you ask? Have you been leaving messages
cos you missed me so much?"
I was surprised by his reaction to my light bantering. First he looked
startled, as if I'd caught him off-guard, then he looked confused.
"Yes, I left a couple of messages, but I was wondering if there was any message
from Rob. While we were in Bournemouth, Marie's been talking to me
on the phone about him..."
"Surely you've not been talking just about Rob!" I interrupted, unable to
resist teasing him.
"No, of course not," he replied with a frown, "but she and her parents are
worried about him."
He went on to tell me that Rob had been spending very little time at home,
telling his parents that he was staying at Tony's house while the latter's
parents were away. Apparently, what worried Rob's family most was his
behaviour on the few occasions they did see him. According to Marie,
he was secretive, arrived and departed at odd hours, sometimes late at night,
and when he was home he spent most of his time locked in his room.
My own parents would never have let me or John go unchallenged if we started
to behave like that, but I knew that Rob's parents had allowed him to get
away with a lot since his big brother died. To some extent I could
understand and sympathise with their motives, but I think they were misguided
and I suspected that in retrospect they, too, were wondering if their strategy
had been wrong. I voiced those thoughts to John, and we discussed it
for awhile.
"By the way," I said, changing the subject as John was about to return to
his room, "how did you get on with James, sharing a room for two weeks?"
"Fine," he replied, looking slightly puzzled, "Why d'you ask?"
"Well, you two have never shared a room together for so long," I said, avoiding
my real concerns.
"Well, I've spent two weeks sharing with you lots of times, and if I can
put up with that I can put up with anyone!"
His grin belied the implied insult and his attitude gave me the impression
that he'd been quite comfortable sharing a room with James, despite the fact
that he knew James' feelings for him were more than just ordinary friendship.
"And did James manage to put up with you?" I countered.
"You can ask him yourself in a bit cos he'll be back here for pizza as soon
as he's dropped his stuff off at Mike's house. Mike and his mum aren't
back till tomorrow, so Mum said James should stay here tonight... " he paused
and grinned again, "so he'll be sharing your room!"
He turned to leave the room, looking much happier than when he'd entered.
Just before he went through the doorway, he said something very quietly over
his shoulder, as if it were some throw-away remark.
"Oh, and yes, I did miss you."
By the time his words registered in my consciousness, he'd disappeared from
sight. After just a few minutes being with my family again, I was soon
cheered up and found that being separated from Dan wasn't quite so painful.
When I went to check my phone messages I found the battery totally flat,
so I had to plug it into the charger. There were a few messages; some
from my mum, some from John and a couple from Mike. There was nothing
from Rob, which didn't surprise me. However there were three 'blank'
messages, in which the caller remained silent for a few seconds before hanging
up, but I had no way of knowing who had made those silent calls.
As I was listening to the last message I heard the doorbell ring, and shortly
after that Mum shouted upstairs to say the pizza had arrived. When
I got downstairs I found Mum putting plates and napkins on the table, where
Dad, John and James were already sitting. James, who was looking very
well and happy after his holiday, greeted me with a huge grin. We were
all so hungry that we were too busy eating to say much during the meal.
"Well, boys," Mum said, as James finished off the last slice of pizza, "I
don't know about you lot, but I'm tired out. So I'm going to get ready
for bed now and leave it to you to decide who does the dishes."
With that, she got up, and with a brief 'goodnight' went upstairs.
All of us, including Dad, knew that she was including him when she used the
term 'boys' in that way. However, he apparently chose to ignore that
usage because he stood up, said 'goodnight' and headed for the door.
Before leaving the room, he turned spoke again, as if he felt a need for
justification.
"You know, I'm really tired after all that driving today,' he said, then
made his exit.
John, James and I looked at one another. Although none of us minded
doing the dishes, in our house it often became a sort of game and a challenge
to try to get someone else to do it. While I was still thinking up
some excuse, James spoke up.
"It's okay, I'll do it," he said cheerfully, "After all, I've had more
pizza than anyone else."
Over the years he'd spent enough time in our house to know all about our
little competition, so I was a little surprised and almost disappointed that
he'd ended the game so quickly.
"In that case," John grinned and stood up, "I'll go and phone Marie."
Although I was tempted to take the opportunity to phone Dan, I was also eager
to ask James about how things had been between him and John. My curiosity
won out.
"I'll give you a hand," I said to James as I stood up.
"Thought you might," he grinned, "that's why I offered to do it. I
thought you'd want to interrogate me as soon as possible."
"Sneaky sod!"
"Nah, I'm not. I just know you better than you think I do."
"Anyway," I countered, trying to sound hurt, "I don't want to 'interrogate'
you. I'm just an interested friend who wants to know about your holiday."
"Oh, in that case I can tell you that the weather was mostly hot and sunny,
the food was good, and we all had a fabulous time."
From his expression of glee as he carried the plates to the sink, I could
tell that he was having a lot of fun teasing me. As a counter move
I considered the possibility of pretending that he'd told me all I wanted
to know. However, my frown of frustration had already given me away,
so I decided not to play any more games.
"Okay, you've had your fun. Now tell me how you and John got on.
Knowing how you feel about him, I was worried you might be uncomfortable
sharing a bedroom for two whole weeks."
"And," he said, smiling gently and raising an eyebrow, "weren't you worried
if John would be uncomfortable sharing with me?"
"Mmm, yes, but not so much. I think it's easier for him than for you."
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds, then sighed before he spoke
again.
"Yeah, you're right," he said, "but he sometimes seemed a bit, erm, different
in the first couple of days ."
"Different?" I prompted.
"Well, like when he was getting dressed... before he knew how I felt he just
carried on as if I wasn't there..."
"You mean he wouldn't get dressed in front of you?" I interrupted, feeling
a bit surprised, "I can't believe that John would think you might make
a move on him!"
"No, of course not!" he responded, frowning at my lack of understanding,
"In fact, the thing is... he was just the opposite. He carried on doing
exactly what he'd always done, but I got the feeling that instead of just
doing it without thinking, he was doing it to make a point. He was
trying to show me that nothing was different. But that in itself made
it different."
That all sounded very convoluted to me. However, I think I understood
what he was trying to say.
"Anyway," he continued, "I pretended not to notice and after a couple of
days John seemed to forget he was making a point. After that, things
really were back to normal."
He stopped rinsing glasses for a couple of seconds and smiled at me, obviously
happy with the way things had turned out.
"Which brings me back to my first question," I said after a brief silence,
"How did you feel, sharing a room with someone you love and not being able
to do anything to show it? And you find him attractive..."
"Ya mean gorgeous!" he interrupted.
"So weren't you feeling, erm... frustrated?" I continued.
"Well, yes, a bit, " he admitted, "but the, erm, physical stuff isn't so
bad as loving him and knowing he can't feel the same."
"So... you found things difficult, then?"
"For the first few days things felt a bit strained, but there was so much
to do and he's such a fun person to be with that the feelings faded..."
"You don't love him so much?" I asked, surprised that the intense feelings
he'd had for years could fade so quickly.
"Don't be stupid!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance,
"Of course I love him just as much!"
He took a deep breath and thought for a couple of seconds.
"It's just... just that I've sort of got used to the fact he won't ever feel
the same and it won't go anywhere. But being so close to him for two
weeks showed me again what a special person he is and how lucky I am to have
him as my friend..."
"He's lucky to have you as well," I said with deep sincerity, "We're all
lucky to have you as a friend."
"Whatever..." he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
He fell silent, his right hand playing with the suds in the sink, and I had
the impression that he wanted to say something else, but was still searching
for the words, so I remained silent.
"I know I'll always love John," he continued in a very quiet, wistful voice,
"but over the last few weeks I've also realised that my feelings for John
won't stop me loving someone else in future."
Unable to think of anything useful to say, I put my hand on his shoulder
and gave it a squeeze.
The next morning I had a nice long lie-in and didn't get out of bed until
after ten, so everyone else in the house had been up for ages by the time
I'd got down to the kitchen to get myself some breakfast and the essential
cup of tea. John had gone out to see Marie, Mum and Dad were reading
the Sunday newspapers in the living room, and James had gone over to his
room in Mike's house. Mike and his mum were not due back from their
holiday until late evening, so James would be joining us for lunch.
In fact, lunch promised to be a lively occasion as Dan and Steve were going
to cycle over to join us . The day was sunny and warm, and as I sat
in the kitchen, nibbling on my toast and feeling the tea waking up my brain
cells, it seemed that all was well with the world.
"Is that your phone I can hear?" Mum's voice broke into daydream.
"Wha'?" I shouted through my mouthful of toast.
"I said is that you phone I can hear?" she called again from the living
room.
Now that it had been brought to my attention, I could faintly hear the ring
tone of my mobile, still on its charger in my bedroom.
"Yes, Mum, it is. Thanks!" I called back as I hauled myself to my feet
and headed for the stairs.
By now I was almost fully awake, and as I accelerated up the stairs it occurred
to me, not for the first time, that mobile phones were both a blessing and
a curse. This little wonder of technology enabled me to communication
with others from anywhere I happened to be - well, almost anywhere,
I corrected myself, thinking of the cottage on Skye. On the other hand,
people expected to be able to contact me at any time, and disapproved if
I had the temerity to leave it switched off.
"Bloody hell! What took you so long?" John berated me as soon as I
answered, "I thought you'd left it switched off again."
"I was in the middle of breakfast," I responded, irritated by his lack of
civility, "And if the phone was switched off I wouldn't have answered at
all, would I?"
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding only a little contrite, "but we need you right
away."
"Who's 'we', where am I needed right away, and why?"
"Look, Paul, there's no time for long explanations. Can you come to
Marie's house now? Rob's locked himself in his room, his dad's threatening
to break the door down, Marie is worried sick, and her mum's is trying
to calm things down, though she doesn't seem very calm herself."
"And what're you doing?" I asked, trying to get my head around the situation.
"Feeling helpless," came the barely audible reply.
"Why me?" I said, not so much as a question to him but more as a cry to the
heavens.
"Who else?" he answered anyway.
John, the usually confident young man, sounded like a lost child. For
Rob's sake I would probably have gone over immediately, even before John
said those last two words, but hearing the tone of his voice brought out
all my big-brotherly protective instincts. Whatever choice I might
have had before, it was now taken away completely.
"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."
On the way to the car I told Mum and Dad what little I knew and asked them
to explain the situation to Dan and Steve if they arrived before I returned
home.
Throughout the drive to Rob's house my mind was awhirl with questions:
Why had Rob locked himself in his room? Why were his family so worried
that his dad was prepared to force his way in? Had this anything to
do with Tony? Actually, I was sure the answer to the last question
was 'Yes'. Two other questions caused me particular worry: What
could I possibly do about the situation? And what would happen if I
couldn't do anything? I felt inadequate and wanted to run away and
hide from it all, but John was my brother and Rob was my friend, so I had
to at least try to help.
As I was parking the car outside the house, John came out to meet me.
"I'm glad you're here!" he said, grabbing my arm and almost dragging me indoors.
When I got inside, Mr and Mrs Streeter were standing in the hallway at the
bottom of the stairs. I had the feeling that my arrival had interrupted
an argument, or at least a heated discussion. Both were red-faced and
it looked like Mrs Streeter had been crying, an impression that was reinforced
by her husky voice when she spoke to me.
"Paul, thanks for coming!"
"Er, that's okay," I replied, feeling very uncomfortable, "What's going on?
John didn't say much on the phone."
"That's cos I'm not sure myself," muttered John, who then scuttled off into
the living room to join Marie, who was looking miserable and sitting on the
sofa.
"Rob won't come out of his room," Mrs Streeter said, her voice cracking.
"Erm... won't he have to come out eventually?" I asked, trying to sound calmer
than I felt. "After all, he'll have to eat and go to the loo. Why not
just wait?"
"Marie says he's hurt," Mr Streeter growled.
His voice grated with barely-suppressed emotion that may have been anger,
or worry, or both . I didn't know him well enough to say for sure,
but if a big man like that was angry, I definitely did not want to be on
the receiving end.
"I said I thought he was hurt!" Marie called out in a strained voice,
emphasising the word 'thought'..
She remained on the sofa, where John was now also sitting with his left arm
over her shoulder. John looked from me to her, and back to me again
as if he expected me to fix everything. That made me feel even more
inadequate and uncomfortable.
"I don't suppose I could have a cup of tea while you tell me what's been
happening?" I asked.
Actually, unusually for me, I didn't particularly feel like drinking tea.
However, I hoped it would give me a chance to find out what was going on
and hopefully give them all time to calm down. Also, it would give
me time to think, because I wasn't sure what, if anything I could do to help
them.
Mrs Streeter smiled apologetically and nodded.
"Why don't you go and sit down. Marie and her dad can fill you in while
I make tea," she said, then went to the kitchen.
I went into the living room and sat next to John, but Mr Streeter hesitated,
frowned and looked up the stairs before he came to sit in one of the armchairs.
Marie and her dad took some time to get started telling me what had been
happening, and they'd barely got going when Mrs Streeter arrived with the
tea. Between them, in bits and pieces, they brought me up to date.
As I'd already gathered from John the previous evening, for over three weeks
Rob had been spending most of his time with Tony and was hardly ever home.
At first, his parents weren't too worried as they thought Tony was 'quite
nice' and Rob seemed happy. Also, most days he would phone to let them
know he was okay.
More recently, on the few occasions they saw Rob, he was coming and going
at odd hours of the day and night and he'd not seemed very happy at all.
They began to get quite worried when it had been a few days since they'd
even had a phone call from him and he wasn't answering his phone. Eventually,
they considered going round to Tony's, but they didn't know his address.
As I listened to all this, it occurred to me that my own parents would have
insisted on knowing my boyfriend's address before they let me stay with him.
However, Rob's parents hadn't pressed him when he would only tell them the
general area where Tony lived.
Apparently, Rob must have come home the previous night when everyone else
was asleep, because Marie had seen him on his way to the toilet that morning.
She was just coming out of her room after getting ready to see John when
she caught a glimpse of Rob in the hallway. He ignored her greeting
and made a dash for the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him.
The whole encounter was over so quickly that details didn't really have time
to register on her consciousness, and although she was a little disconcerted
by his behaviour, it was no more unusual than it had been for the last few
weeks. At first she thought he just urgently needed to use the toilet
but then, after he'd disappeared from view, she thought she had seen bruises
on his face and that he'd been limping.
"That's when I got a bit worried," Marie continued her part of the story,
"so I knocked on the bathroom door and called to him. He didn't answer,
but I thought I could hear him crying, so I went to tell Mum."
"And by the time I got upstairs," Mrs Streeter added, "he'd gone back to
his room and locked the door. He didn't answer when I knocked, and
I'm sure I could hear him crying."
"When I told Dad about the bruises," Marie continued, "he started banging
on the door and asking Rob if Tony had done it. He said he'd kill Tony
if he'd hurt Rob."
"I'd go round there now if I knew where he lived!" Mr Streeter said, almost
exploding with suppressed anger.
"We're not sure Tony caused the bruises," Mrs Streeter said without much
conviction.
"And I'm not absolutely certain they were bruises," Marie contributed, "I
s'pose they could've just been dirt. But that didn't stop Dad threatening
to kick the door down if Rob didn't open it."
"Well maybe he needs a doctor!" Mr Streeter said, apparently to justify his
threat.
"And that's when I arrived," John said in a very quiet voice, speaking for
the first time since he sat down.
"John suggested we call you," Marie said, "cos Rob might listen to you."
All eyes were turned to me and I squirmed inwardly as I felt like an insect
impaled on a pin. Their hopes and expectations weighed heavily on me,
and I felt a flash of annoyance at John for putting me in this position.
The annoyance quickly passed as I realised he genuinely wanted to help Marie
and her family, and I felt some pride that he had such confidence in me.
On the other hand, suppose I failed and disappointed them? After all,
Rob had chosen to avoid me over the past few weeks, so why should he listen
to me now? I was afraid of letting them all down, and even more
afraid that John would lose confidence in me. Did I want John to see
his big brother as inadequate and foolish? Just as I was about to start
thinking of excuses for why I couldn't stay and help, I realised I was being
very selfish. No matter how Rob regarded me now, as far as I was concerned
he was still my friend. For that reason alone, and despite all other
considerations, I had to try to help.
They were all still looking at me, and Mr Streeter seemed to be getting impatient,
though only a few seconds had passed. There was no more tea to drink
and I couldn't delay any longer, so I took a deep breath and sighed.
"Right, then," I said trying to sound confident, "I think you'd all better
wait here while I go and see if I can get Rob to talk to me."
Not surprisingly, there was no response when I tapped on Rob's door, and
when I listened with my ear to the door I didn't hear crying or any other
sound. I banged on the door as loudly as I dared without risking scaring
him.
"Rob," I called loudly enough so I was sure he must hear me, "Rob, it's Paul."
I repeated that a few times, slightly louder each time, listening carefully
for a few seconds after each repetition. A couple of times I thought
I could here movement but I wasn't sure, and there was no other sound.
I sighed and wondered what to do next, eventually deciding that the only
course of action was to persevere. I sat down on the floor with my
back propped against the door jamb and my left ear resting on the door.
"Rob, I know you're in there."
I tried to make my voice loud enough to be heard through the door but not
so loud as to seem threatening. Also, I pitched the tone to be as calm
and reassuring as I could manage.
"Your family are worried about you... I'm worried about you... Can't you
at least say something to let me know you're alright?"
Still there was no response, but I thought I heard a shuffling sound.
Trying to think positively, I imagined he might be moving nearer the door
so he could hear me better."
"You know we all care about you, don't you? You're one of my closest
friends and I care about you very much."
Although I said that with total and genuine sincerity, I suddenly felt a
pang of guilt as I remembered how I'd avoided thinking about him during the
last two weeks. As I paused to listen for any response, I tried to
assuage my guilt by telling myself that at least part of the avoidance was
because I did care but couldn't do anything about it at that time.
Then, because the task at hand was to help Rob, and my self-examination wouldn't
help that, I set all those thoughts aside.
"C'mon, Rob, at least say something to let me know you're okay."
After quite a long pause, I was about to say something else when I heard
his barely audible, hesitant, trembling voice.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Now you can go away."
The last five words lacked conviction, but even if I knew he really meant
it, I wouldn't have gone away.
"I'm glad you're okay. This is the first time we've talked for weeks....
I just got back from holiday, can I come in for a chat?"
There was no reply, but I allowed myself to be encouraged by the fact that
he didn't refuse.
"It's not very comfortable talking through the door," I persevered, "please
let me in."
"What about the others?" he asked dubiously after another long pause.
"They're all downstairs and won't come up while I'm up here."
He took some time to think about that, but I remained silent, not wishing
him to feel under any pressure. Then I heard the lock click and stood
up, expecting the door to open, but it remained closed.
"Why?" he asked, confusing me.
"Why what?"
"Why're you here?"
My mind raced. Was he testing me or was I being paranoid? What, indeed,
was the truthful answer? Of course, partly because John asked me to
come, but I asked myself again, why exactly was I outside Rob's door, talking
to him? I gave the truthful answer.
"Because you're my friend and I care about you."
The door opened just enough to let me in, so I stepped inside and he immediately
closed and locked the door behind me. Although it was bright and sunny
outside, his thick curtains were closed and his room was almost dark.
While I stood still, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, he moved
away from me and sat on his bed.
After a short while I could see that his room was now very different from
the first time I'd seen it. There were no longer any obvious signs
of Chris' former occupancy, and indeed the room was so spartan that there
seemed no way to tell that this was even Rob's room. Looking more closely
at Rob, I could see darker areas on the left side of his face, but whether
those were bruises or not I couldn't be sure. He was wearing dark jeans
and a light-coloured long-sleeved shirt, so I couldn't see if there were
any other signs of bruising.
He sat in silence and didn't move, apparently just staring at his hands,
which were clasped together and resting in his lap. Not wishing to
cause him any anxiety by crowding his space, I stayed by the door and didn't
move, and from his continued silence I assumed he was waiting for me to speak.
"Thanks for letting me in," I said eventually, "Are you okay? Is there
anything I can do to help?"
"Why should you want to help?" he said so softly that it he might have just
been talking to himself.
"Because you're my friend."
He remained silent for a few seconds, apparently pondering my words.
"I've not been very nice to my friends recently," he said in a dull voice,
"especially to you. Ya know I was avoiding you just because Tony told
me to?"
He sat, motionless, slumped and lifeless, not even raising his eyes when
he spoke to me.
"I sort of guessed that."
"I don't deserve friends," he said simply.
I was shocked, not so much the meaning of his words but much more by the
way he spoke them. His voice was dead, a monotone devoid of all emotion,
as if he didn't care about anything. He didn't even sound sad or depressed,
but more like a machine making empty, meaningless noises. This wasn't
the Rob that I'd known before, the boy I'd thought I was in love with.
That Rob was full of life, and even when he was sad, he'd showed emotion
and cried.
I cleared my throat, delaying because I didn't know at first how to respond.
Of course I knew that what he said wasn't true, but a I also knew that a
simple denial of his statement wouldn't do any good. As I racked my
brains, it occurred to me that what Mum, Mike and Dan kept telling me, that
I thought too much, was true . By waiting until my intellect found
the right words, I might delay too long, so I decided to just say what I
felt and not worry too much if it made sense or sounded good.
"Well," I said slowly, "I can't speak for other people, but for me, friends
are people I like and respect. And a lot of people I like and respect
aren't really friends. Friends are people I just happen to relate to...
people I enjoy being with. I never think about it in terms of 'deserving'
or 'not deserving'. My friends are my friends just because they are...."
My voice trailed off because I knew I wasn't making any sense.
"I s'pose that sounds stupid," I continued, feeling foolish, "What I'm trying
to say is that you're my friend, and you don't need to worry about 'deserving'
it or not. I guess this is being selfish, but helping a friend makes
me feel better... so if you let me help you then you'll be doing me
a favour and that favour will make up for you ignoring me recently."
For the first time since he sat down, he raised his head and looked at me,
and even in the dim light I thought that there may have been the faint glimmer
of a smile superimposed on his otherwise lifeless features. When he
remained silent, I thought that perhaps I'd only imagined the slight twitch
at the corners of his mouth.
"You really do spout rubbish sometimes," he said after almost a minute of
silence.
There was some sign of life in his voice now, a slight bantering tone.
This small change in him had a disproportionately large effect on me, and
although I tried not to show the possibly premature relief and elation I
felt, I couldn't suppress a small smile.
"Maybe I wouldn't get the chance to spout so much rubbish if you contributed
a bit more to the conversation," I said, trying to gently reflect his banter.
I went over and sat next to him, my left shoulder not quite touching his
right shoulder. This was because I remembered that he'd been avoiding
physical contact with his family recently, and I didn't want to push things
too fast. Just before I sat down, I noticed that there was considerable
bruising to the left side of his face, and as far as I could tell in the
dim light, the bruises looked relatively recent.
He didn't say anything but showed a little more liveliness, fidgeting and
picking at his finger nails. The silence dragged on and I was just
about to say something when he spoke.
"I don't know what to say," he said, sounding miserable.
Superficially, his words may not have been very inspiring, but at the time
I felt it was a big improvement. I thought that even misery was better
than no feelings at all and that not knowing what to say possibly implied
at least a desire to say something.
"You could start by telling me why you're hiding in here and wouldn't talk
to your family," I prompted.
"I'm scared... and ashamed of myself. I've treated them horribly, even
worse than I treated you. I don't know what to do and I don't want
them to see me like... like this."
"There's no need to be scared," I soothed. "Your mum and dad are just worried
about you. I'm sure they just want to make sure you're okay and help
if they can... and by 'seeing me like this'... you mean the bruises?"
"Yeah."
"They already know about it. Marie saw them, and that's one reason
why they're so concerned.. Did Tony do it? And the bruise I saw on
your arm a few weeks ago?"
"Yes... No... Well, not on purpose."
"On purpose or not," I said with a wry smile, "I wouldn't like to be Tony
when your dad finds out!"
"Tony'll be okay. He went back to Brighton yesterday."
There was a brief pause while I thought about what Rob had told me.
"Erm, what exactly did you mean by not on purpose? How does something
like that happen accidentally?" I asked, pointing at his face.
"It's a long story," he said wearily.
"I've got plenty of time, and maybe you'll feel better if you get it off
your chest. Even if I can't help directly, sooner or later you're going
to have to tell your parents something, so talking to me first may help with
that."
He took a big sigh and leaned sideways so that he was propped against me.
"I s'pose you guessed why I found Tony so attractive?" he asked, sounding
more than a little embarrassed, "Well, attraction doesn't really describe
it... it was fascination, magnetism... I don't know how to put it in words..."
"That's not surprising, under the circumstances," I commented gently.
"Anyway, it didn't take long for Tony to realise how strongly I felt for
him, and he seemed to really like me as well. But I wanted him to like
me more... I wanted him to love me and I kept telling him that I'd do anything
for him."
His voice indicated he was sad, but it was a sort of disengaged sadness,
almost as if he was telling me about something that had happened to someone
else. At this point, he shifted his position a little so that his head
could lie on my shoulder, so I let my cheek rest on the top of his head.
"At first," he continued, "he didn't ask me to do anything. Maybe he
thought I didn't mean it. Then he wanted me to do little things,
like get my hair cut short, just to please him. After that he said
I was still a bit 'soft' and even 'girly' and that he preferred masculine
men, so he told me to start wearing more 'butch' army-type clothes.
I was happy to do all that if it would make him happy and make him like me
more... "
He heaved a sighed of sadness and leaned on me even more, so I put my arm
around him.
"But then he wanted me to do more difficult things. He said that you
didn't like him and that you'd try to turn me against him, so he wanted me
to stay away from you... not even talk to you on the phone. That was
really hard and I got really lonely, but he said he loved me and so I did
it. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, I understand." I said, squeezing him gently.
My attempt at a comforting squeeze made him wince and utter a sharp 'Ow!',
making me realise that the bruises were not just on his face.
"Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"S'okay," he whispered, settling back against my side, "it's just that I'm
a bit sore."
"Did Tony do that... make you sore?" I asked.
"Well... I don't think he did it deliberately... he just liked to do things
rough and I just happened to get bruised."
"You mean he didn't care that he hurt you?" I growled, my anger at Tony increasing.
"He said he cared and he said he was sorry... but he also said if I was a
real man then I could take it. And later on I got the impression he
actually enjoyed it. Like that time he held me down and did it without
lube... and I think I told you that he's got a big one. It hurt like
hell..."
"And you let him do that?!" I exclaimed, horrified.
Before he could answer, something else occurred to me.
"You don't enjoy that sort of thing do you... being hurt?"
"No! I hate it. But I love him and wanted to make him happy and
didn't want to risk losing him."
"You still love him?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes... at least I did then, but maybe not after yesterday morning..."
"You mean he went too far... the bruises on your face?" I interrupted.
No," he said then made a sound like a humourless laugh, "No, that really
was an accident. I fell down some steps."
"Why don't you tell me what happened," I said dubiously, not really believing
it was an accident.
"Well, I'd been spending so much time with him that I was beginning to think
we were a couple. We had a great time in his house with his parents
being away, but after we got up yesterday morning..."
He paused, his body started shaking, and his chest began to heave.
It occurred to me that he was either about to cry or about to throw up, and
I prayed that it would be the former. When I heard him sob I was doubly
relieved; not only were tears easier to deal with than stomach contents,
but crying would probably be good for him. Gently kissing the top of
his head, which was still resting on my shoulder, I waited patiently for
him to be able to continue.
"Yesterday morning," he said eventually in a trembling voice, "Tony started
packing his clothes and said I should collect my stuff and go home.
I was confused and asked him when I should come back... He said never..."
His voice cracked and he sobbed uncontrollably. When, eventually, he
could continue, his voice was aching with misery.
"I told him I didn't understand. I asked him what I'd done wrong... why he
was throwing me out. He said I'd not done anything wrong and he wasn't
really throwing me out, but he was going back to Brighton. I said I'd
go with him and do anything he wanted... but he just laughed."
"Laughed?!"
"Yes," he said bitterly, "he laughed. He told me I'd already done everything
he wanted and that his boyfriend would get upset if I went to Brighton with
him."
I must admit that although I was a little shocked by the mention of a boyfriend,
I wasn't really surprised.
"At first I didn't believe him," Rob continued, "and I told him I thought
he was just saying that to get rid of me. He laughed again and told
me all the details... his boyfriend, Andrew, was studying French at university
in Brighton. Andrew has spent the last few months in Belgium, but will
be returning to Brighton in a couple of days. They had agreed that
they could have 'fun' with others while they were apart, and Tony said I
was his bit of fun but now it was over."
He broke down into sobs again and just collapsed, slipping down until his
head was in my lap. I gently stroked his hair, so short it felt like
suede, and I made little comforting noises while I waited for him to recover.
Eventually, he calmed down and even seemed to fall asleep. He stayed
like that for several minutes and I was reluctant to disturb him. However,
my back was beginning to ache because I'd been sitting up on his bed
for so long, and I was forced to move enough to rest my back on the wall.
My movement seemed to bring him back to life, and he heaved a great sigh,
though he still kept his head in my lap.
"I suppose you're still wondering about my face," he said, "Well, after
telling me about Andrew, Tony just ignored me, despite all my screaming,
shouting and begging. When he finished packing his bag he went to the
front door and told me to get out, so I waited for him outside and when he
came out and locked the door I grabbed his arm, trying to get him to talk
to me. He pushed me away and I fell down the front steps.... my face
hit the wall and I hurt my arm and knee."
"What did Tony do then?"
"He walked off..."
"He just left you there?" I said, angry and appalled at Tony's behaviour.
"Yeah, I s'pose he went to the railway station," he said with a mixture of
misery and bitterness in his voice.
"But that was yesterday morning. Your family thought. you must have
come home last night."
"I did. After all, I couldn't let them see me and ask me what happened.
So I just sat in the park till it closed, then walked around until it was
dark and I was sure everyone had gone to bed."
"Why didn't you call me? Or just come over to see me?"
He twisted round to lie on his back, looking up at me before he answered.
"I didn't know when you'd be back from holiday... and after the way I ignored
you, I didn't know if you'd want to even see me, much less help me."
"Of course I want to see you and help you... I'm here, aren't I!"
For the first time I was seeing his face close up, and even in the dim light
I could see he was a mess. The bruises, trails of old tears, and red
eyes still brimming with new tears, all combined to make him look so sad
and almost pathetic. I'd shed a few quiet tears as he told his story,
but looking at him like that and thinking of all he'd been through, made
me really cry.
"I'm sorry, Paul," he said, bursting into tears again and burying his face
in my T-shirt.
"So am I," I said quietly, but if he heard me, he showed no sign of it.
We stayed like that for some time, with me stroking his hair and my T-shirt
getting soggier. I waited until he'd stopped crying before I spoke
again.
"Right then, young Rob," I said in my most business-like voice, "let's get
things sorted out..."
His body stiffened and he looked up at me.
"I don't want to talk to Mum and Dad... at least not yet!"
"I should think not!" I chided gently, trying to lighten the mood, "At least
not until you've showered and tidied up... you're a bit of a mess at the
moment and starting to smell a bit, erm, ripe."
Actually, he didn't smell badly at all, considering he'd been wearing the
same clothes in warm weather for well over twenty four hours. However,
I was sure that he'd feel better as well as look better if he had a shower.
"Tell you what," I continued, "why not let your 'uncle Paul' take care of
things. I'll go and get us a cup of tea, and maybe see if your mum's
got any of her delicious cakes, cos I'm bloody starving! Then, while
you have a shower, I'll talk to your parents..."
"What will you tell them?" he squeaked, panicking and starting to sit up.
"Relax!" I said soothingly, smiling down at him. "I'll tell them just
enough to stop them worrying. Then after your shower, I'll come back
up here and let you know what I've told them. When you're ready to
talk to them, I'll be with you."
"Okay," he said hesitantly, "but can you just hold me for a couple of minutes
before you go for the tea?"
"Course I can, Robbie, course I can."
I bent down to kiss his forehead and felt him relax a little. He closed
his eyes and gave a little sigh when I began stroking his hair. A little
later, as I held him in my lap, it occurred to me that friendship is not
always easy, but it is always worthwhile.
oo00oo