When he woke up, Norman was still sleeping. Neil got up without making any noise. He washed himself then went to prepare breakfast. When the tea was ready he took a cup in to the boy, shaking him gently to wake him up.
"Norman... tea's ready..."
"OK, OK!" the boy said, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes. He took the cup and drank. Neil was looking at him. He saw that Norman eyes were of an intense, deep blue. The boy's naked chest was skinny but he had wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Yes, indeed, with a few more pounds on him he would be really beautiful. He didn't have hairs on his chest. A small scar marked his left forearm. Norman handed him the empty cup.
"If you get up, breakfast is ready. If you feel like it..."
"What time is it?"
"Ten past nine."
"OK, then."
"After breakfast, do you feel like coming with me to buy what we need for the Christmas meal?"
"Alright."
Norman got out of bed. Neil saw that under his boxers the boy had the usual morning hard-on, but he turned at once to go back into the kitchen and hoped that the boy didn't notice his quick, instinctive glance. Norman followed him out and went into the bathroom. Neil, curious, peeped out of the kitchen and saw that, again, the boy had left the door wide open. He asked himself whether he did that on purpose -- was it a kind of silent invitation for him? An invitation to enter the bathroom, to see him stark naked, to... Neil told himself that his imagination was running away with him. The boy was straight, and was surely not attracted to him. He had to stop fantasizing.
But when he heard the water running in the sink, Neil went and sat in the living room to look at Norman's shadow projected onto the door panel. This time the silhouette showed a completely erect member. Neil swallowed, fascinated by that shadow and by the perfect shape of the small, round butt that drew a sweet curve on the panel. It was both a pleasure and a torment admiring that shadow, its details so clean and well defined, moving on the screen of the door's white panel. The soft tuft of his pubic hair, his arms in motion, the halo of his hair, the perfect profile of his face. He closed his eyes and imagined being on his knees in front of the boy, engrossed in giving pleasure to that beautifully erect pole with his mouth. He imagined being naked himself, standing at Norman's back and embracing him, caressing his chest, his belly and lower, while he pushed against him and slowly entered him...
"Are you sleeping?"
He opened his eyes. Norman stood before him, a towel wrapped tightly around his slender hips. The boy's legs were covered in soft and fine blond down. At his front could be guessed the shape of the member compressed under the stretched cloth of the towel. Then the wide chest, the straight neck, the half open mouth, the beautiful nose and eyes the color of a clear, deep lake, in which Neil felt he could drown.
"No, I was just thinking. Go into the bedroom, open the drawers and choose what you'd like to wear. Also see whether my trousers fit you."
"Can I wear your clothes?"
"Sure, as you have nothing. Then we can wash your own clothes."
"Underpants too?"
"Yes, sure. Admittedly they may be too large for you. I am somewhat bigger than you in the hips."
He heard the boy opening the drawers. At that moment he remembered the tin with his money, under the underpants. He wondered what would be the best thing to do, but he remained seated and waited. After a while Norman came out of the bedroom.
"Almost everything fits me. Just the trousers are a little big and short, but with a belt they're OK. Is what I chose alright?"
"Yes, sure."
"Under your underpants there's a tin. I guess you keep your valuables there. Mum did that too. But I think it's silly. If robbers came I think they'd go and search the underwear drawer right away. You also keep your money there, don't you?"
"Yes."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Later this morning I'll take the money to my bank. Normally there's almost nothing in that box... some documents, a ring, a thin gold chain."
They ate breakfast then Neil dressed also. He liked seeing Norman wearing his clothes. It gave him a small, but pleasurable sense of intimacy. They went out shopping. Neil enjoyed making the boy choose what they needed for Christmas lunch. He looked at everything, touched everything like a little kid, and then made his choices.
At one point Norman asked him to wait a moment, as he had to go and buy cigarettes. Neil took advantage of that and, quickly, went off to buy two little presents for the boy. When he got back, Norman was already there waiting for him.
"Where did you go?" Norman asked, a bit uneasily.
"I just forgot something. Can we go home, now?"
"Alright. I bought a good supply of cigarettes. I now have enough for a week," the boy said pointing at the swollen pockets of his jacket.
"Good, let's just stop for a moment at this shop. I want to get you some winter shoes."
"For me?"
"Sure. You can't spend winter with just those sandals."
"They're better with the woolen socks."
"Yes, so long as it doesn't rain or snow. Go on in."
The boy chose, from among the less expensive shoes, a pair of boots, lined with synthetic fur.
When they went out he said, "I'm sorry you've spent so much money on me..."
"It's not so much... It's a pleasure... and you needed them."
"You need to visit your bank."
"No. I've changed my mind. The money may be useful over the next few days, and it's not such a large amount anyway."
"I saw in your closet a white shirt with your initials embroidered on the chest pocket - N.S. They are the same initials as mine."
"Ah really? What's your family name?"
"Simpson. Norman Simpson. Neil Sawers. N.S."
"I have two of those shirts. Do you want one?"
"You'd give me one?"
"Yes, if you want it."
"No. But I'd like to wear one tomorrow, on Christmas day. And you can wear the other one. But I don't want it as a gift."
In front of them a black boy, around six years old, came running out of a shop and fell down. Norman immediately put down on the pavement the bags he was carrying, crouched down and picked up the little boy, whose eyes had filled with tears. He caressed his head and, for the first time, Neil saw Norman smiling. The child's father came out of the shop. Norman, still crouching beside the boy, gently pushed him towards his father who, taking his son's hand, smiled at Norman and thanked him. Norman just shook his head and stood up, picking up his bags again.
"Do you like children?" Neil asked him.
"I can't stand seeing them cry. Children should never have to cry..."
"Nor adults. But it happens at times."
"But a child crying... it's terrible. I know how it feels."
"It was beautiful looking at the two of you; you all fair and the child so dark. Would you like to have children?"
"Children? I've never thought about it. But I don't think I would. I don't know if I would be able to be a good father. I would risk suffocating them, trying to give them all the things I didn't have. No I don't think I would like to have children."
"Since you've known suffering, you might make a good father."
"I don't know. No. It's easy to treat a child nicely for just a few hours. But treating that child well for years... being firm but loving at the same time... being upstanding... I think it would be quite a task. It would be simpler not to have children, not to have the responsibility."
"Anyway life always loads us up with responsibilities. I don't think we can avoid them."
"But at least we can try not to increase them."
Back at home, Neil started cooking right away, while Norman sat in the living room watching TV.
"D'you need any help?" he called, after a while.
"No, thank you." Neil answered from the kitchen.
"If you need a hand, call me."
"Alright."
Neil hid the two gifts he'd bought for the boy then prepared lunch for later and some dishes for the following day. He recalled the smile on Norman's face for the little black kid. It had been a surprise for Neil, a very pleasant surprise. It had been a sweet, tender smile full of warmth -- reassuring, even it had only flashed across his face for a few seconds. While Norman was consoling the child, Neil had felt an impulse to embrace both of them, almost as if to protect them both from the world.
"A drink?" he asked peeping through the living room door. Norman was, as usual, slouched on the armchair beside the fireplace, one arm behind his head and the other dangling over the armrest; his legs spread wide in sweet abandon.
"No, I'm fine."
Neil went back into the kitchen. "It's a shame that the boy is not gay," he thought. His head was filled with the image of the shadow projected onto the bathroom door by the boy's naked body; and with the half-nakedness of Norman in the bed, so near and yet so far. He imagined himself sucking his flat nipples, running his hands over Norman's lean chest, over his hollow belly... He shook himself. He should not indulge in such dangerous, morbid thoughts. The boy was taboo. He must not spoil everything by upsetting him. Norman needed to understand that a person could do something for him without hidden objectives... no matter that this would cost him dearly. He called him in for lunch. He liked looking at him eating, as hungry as ever.
"You're a good cook."
"It's much more satisfying preparing food for two. When I'm alone... I don't spend so much time in preparing a meal. I eat quickly, one way or another. I often eat out."
"May I have some more?"
"As much as you want."
"But later I'll wash the dishes. Do you have a vacuum cleaner? After lunch I'll run it over the carpet."
"You don't need to. I can do it."
"No. At least I'll feel useful for something. I'm already taking advantage of you too much. Let me do it, it'll be a pleasure."
Neil smiled and nodded. After lunch they cleaned the whole apartment and they put two loads through the washing machine. Then Neil ironed the boy's green shirt and some other clothes and then resumed cooking, for supper and for the following day.
"Will it bother you if I go out for a while?" Norman asked.
"No, go on. Supper will be ready at seven 'o clock. Do you have enough money with you?"
"Yes. See you soon."
Neil continued his preparations in the kitchen. He thought that the boy was possibly getting restless and that it would do him good to get out for a while. He set the table for supper then went into the living room, switched on the stereo, picked up his novel and sat down to read it. When he looked at his watch, it was five past seven. In alarm he asked himself whether the boy would come back. Then he realized that the boy, not having a watch, wouldn't have a precise idea of what time it was. He put down the novel, switched off the stereo and switched on the TV. He was sitting on the armchair once more when the doorbell rang. He ran downstairs to open the door -- it was Norman. He felt better. They went up and sat down at the table immediately. Norman mentioned the second hand Mercedes that he'd noticed for sale at the nearby garage.
"Do you like them?" Neil asked him.
"Yes, they're beautiful. But if I had money I wouldn't buy a car like that. I'd rather a beautiful little house with a small garden in the front and one in the back. I've never really been attracted by cars. But having a home all for myself... I've dreamed so often about having furniture... my things in a home that was all mine. They're just dreams. Everything is so expensive! If you knew how much time I've spent in front of estate agents' windows looking at the pictures of houses for sale! And also in front of the windows of the furniture shops. I enjoyed selling furniture. My colleagues didn't enjoy it as much. But the furniture, yes. It helped me to dream, to imagine the rooms of that home -- all mine. It was like a game. Beautiful. The wallpaper, curtains, the bed or armchair upholstery, all coordinated. A modern, complete kitchen. The bathroom spacious, full of light. It really was a nice game, because in fantasies money doesn't count. I could have anything I fancied. Large rooms, well furnished, sunlight streaming in... dreams! But dreams also help to make life enjoyable."
"If you don't believe in them too much. On the other hand, they can make real life seem too gloomy, too difficult to bear."
"Sure. But dreaming is beautiful. If you take away dreams, what's left?"
"At times real life is also beautiful, colourful, even more so than dreams. It's wonderful being able to look at it through... through children's eyes."
"Dad always said that one has to grow up, to stop being a child. He told me that even when I was five years old..."
"No, I don't agree. I like being aware, at times, that in the depths of my heart I am still a child."
"But you are different. You... you're ageless. If you just dressed more... more casually, less formally, less sombrely. But you are special."
"I feel completely normal... It's others, in this case, who are wrong. Even if they are in the majority."
"Perhaps it's as you say. There are people who are younger than you and yet are older than you. My brother Charles, for example. As he thinks, so does he act. He's older than you... I don't believe Dad was ever young. In my opinion, he was already born old. You on the other hand are young. Yes, young."
"I already have some gray hair."
"That doesn't count. I feel comfortable around you, as though I were with someone of my own age. I can talk to you. I like listening to you."
"Perhaps it's because you are old, not that I'm young." Neil suggested, smiling jokingly.
"No way! I told you -- you are younger than my brother. You're not forty, you're twenty."
"No, I'm forty-one. But the years don't weigh me down."
"In spite of your solitude." Norman affirmed.
"One learns to live with it, if one doesn't want to go crazy."
"It may possibly be a good thing to go crazy."
"It depends how."
"True. Besides medieval knights, what do you dream about?"
Neil was about to answer "the right lover" but he didn't say it. "Being a famous reporter, touring the world, seeing exotic places, different people, different cultures. And writing articles that everybody reads with pleasure."
"Did you never write?"
"No. Perhaps I was afraid of disappointing myself. In dreams everything is beautiful, easy, done well."
"More dreams?"
"Yes, there are." Neil said, without adding anything. He got up from the table and cleared it then they went to look at the TV. There was a program on Christmas around the World. Both of them commented on the scenes shot in the southern hemisphere where Christmas arrived in full summer -- scenes of crowded beaches, people in swimming suits laying out to tan. Then there were cartoons and Neil liked observing the way Norman watched them, engrossed. When they decided to hit the sack, it was midnight.
"Neil?" Norman called softly in the half-darkness of the bedroom.
"Yes?"
"What does being friends mean, for you?"
"Being able to count on the other person. Trusting him and knowing that he understands you and accepts you the way you are."
"But what if the other person then disappoints you?"
"I think that nobody can be one hundred per cent sure that his friend will never disappoint him. If I feel disappointed by a friend, I ask myself how much I might have disappointed my friends in turn. You know -- 'don't look at the speck in the other's eye but think about the plank in your own eye...'"
"Why don't you have friends?"
"Possibly because I'm afraid of not being accepted for what I am."
"Because you're gay, you mean? You can always gave gay friends."
"I'm afraid to confine myself to a ghetto, I guess."
"But what you've got now, isn't it worse than a ghetto? In a ghetto there are few of you, it's true, but you're not alone. Isn't a ghetto better than an isolation cell?"
"Perhaps. Maybe my problem is also pride. Maybe it's not wanting to depend on others. I know it's wrong, but I haven't found anybody who would help me to overcome it, who offered me his friendship."
"If everybody waits for others to take the first step, who'll make the first move? It's really strange that you don't have friends, you are a nice guy."
"Shyness may also be holding me back. So many times I would have liked to be able to make the first move, but I haven't had the courage."
"Fear of being rejected?"
"Yes, possibly."
"But is it better to take the risk of being poisoned, or to be sure of dying of starvation?"
Neil smiled at the comparison, but thought it was fitting.
"In that case it's possibly better to run the risk than to afford the certainty. You may also be lucky. But you know Norman, instinct and logic don't always go hand in hand. How many times does a person think he should do one thing and then, on the other hand, he does something completely different? We human beings are complex animals. Complicated and stupid."
"Possibly it's the world we live in that's complicated and stupid. Life throws so many fears at us. When I was a child I was afraid of the dark. I thought that it hid who knows how many dangers. Then I realized that dangers are also hiding in broad daylight, and that darkness doesn't matter. Fear of rejection, in the end, causes you to be rejected by everybody. If you aren't afraid, on the other hand, you might of course, still be rejected by somebody, but somebody else will accept you, like you..."
"Maybe, maybe... But I cannot go around with a placard saying 'I'm in search of friends', can I?"
"It mightn't be such a bad idea. I'd stop, if I saw such a placard."
Neil smiled at that idea. Then he thought that Norman might be offering him his friendship and felt moved. He was about to ask him, but he was afraid and asked nothing. What would it be like, being friends with Norman? Would he be able to accept friendship, and only friendship, with a person who physically attracted him so much? Would he be able not to spoil it? Probably yes, but just 'probably'. Up to now they had slept in the same bed, both half-naked, and he had succeeded in not touching the boy. As time went on, would it become easier or more difficult? He couldn't answer himself honestly. And Norman, besides attracting him physically, attracted him very much for his character. He liked him more and more as they spent time together. Yes, it probably would be great to have him as a friend, even without physical implications. So he'd have to take the first step, he'd have to tell him something. Possibly the boy was waiting for just that. And this was possibly the right moment, in the night, in the dark -- it might be easier. He had to tell him something, now. Neil realized that he was trembling all over, from head to toe, while he forced himself to start talking.
"Norman?"
Silence.
"Are you sleeping, Norman?"
Silence again.
He had waited too long. Would he have another opportunity?
On Christmas morning he was again woken up by the sound of water running in the bathroom. He got up and leaned out, hoping to see the usual shadow on the bathroom door. But it was an overcast day and the shadow on the door was barely hinted at, blurred, it didn't reveal anything. Somewhat disappointed, Neil slipped on his gown and went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. Norman heard the pots rattling.
"Already up, Neil?" he called from the bathroom.
"Yes, it's nine twenty. I've never slept as much as I have in the last few days. Did you have a good sleep?"
"Your bed is firm, just the way I like it. One can sleep so well in it," Norman answered as he entered the kitchen wearing just the towel, wrapped tightly around his hips. Neil glanced at him and thought that every day the boy seemed to him more beautiful, more desirable. Was it possible that the boy was not aware that showing himself in this way, half-naked, he just ignited desire in him? And yet the boy knew he was gay, didn't he? Was he completely unwitting, naive? Bah... it was possible.
He put everything on the table and they sat down to eat. Then Norman went to dress. Neil had his shower then dressed in turn. They both wore the white shirts with the initials embroidered on the chest pockets.
"As today is Christmas, I thought it would be better to eat lunch in the living room. What do you think? Will you help me to move the furniture and to prepare?"
Norman nodded. They moved the armchairs and the coffee table and placed the kitchen table and two chairs in the centre of the room. Neil rummaged in the closet until he found a tablecloth and some coloured candles. He set the table, placed the candles on the fireplace mantel and one in the centre of the table. Then looked at his watch.
"Eleven 'o clock. Is it OK if it's ready by noon?"
"OK. Do you want me to do anything?"
"No. If you want, switch on the stereo or the TV. I can manage alone.
Norman switched on the TV and Neil went into the kitchen to prepare the last few things for Christmas lunch. He wondered whether he should give Norman his presents before or after the meal. He decided to give them to him before, when they sat at the table. He hoped Norman would like them. He took some French wine out of the refrigerator and opened the bottle. He mentally reviewed the lunch menu and organized what he had still to do. It was ages since he'd had a real Christmas lunch. It was ages since he'd spent Christmas with anyone.
He thought about Norman going away the next day and felt a flood of deep regret pouring over him. He didn't want him to go. He wanted to suggest to him that he stay a little while longer, at least for a few more days. He would tell him so, at the right moment. He risked a refusal, it was true, but if he didn't ask Norman, the boy would be going anyway. It was worth the risk. Now everything was ready. He took the wine to the table.
"Sit at the table, Norman, it's ready!"
He went back to the kitchen to fetch the first dish.
"Start helping yourself, I'll be right back," Neil said, going back into the kitchen to get the two parcels for the boy. He went back out and handed them to him, "Happy Christmas, Norman!"
"Christmas presents for me? You cheated! I was going to give you my present after the meal... Anyway... this is my present to you. Happy Christmas, Neil." Norman said, handing him a small parcel.
Neil sat and both started opening their presents.
"A Stevens' SF novel! I haven't read this one yet..."
"I hope you like it, Norman. Oh, this is disco music, isn't it?"
"Yes, so at least you don't have only jazz. It is the latest compilation. And here... a watch! You've spent too much money!"
"No. It isn't a diamond as big as an egg, but... at least now you'll know what time it is. Thank you Norman. Later we'll put on this CD, and I would like to watch you dance."
"Only if you'll dance with me too."
"It's ages since I've been to a disco. I don't know if I still can, And anyway, I don't know the latest dances."
"I'll teach you, in that case."
"'Bon appétit', Norman. And, again, merry Christmas."
"To you too." the boy answered. He put the watch on his wrist, then stood up and lit all the candles. He sat down again and they began to eat. As usual Norman ate with gusto. Neil looked at him from time to time and told himself he must invite him to stay longer. They were eating the cake when finally Neil made his proposal.
"I feel so good having you around, Norman. Therefore, I was thinking, if you feel like, you don't have to leave tomorrow, so soon. Anyway I don't go back to work until the third of January..."
Silence.
"That is... If you feel like... if you feel OK here..." Neil added hesitantly.
"I'm eating well, sleeping well, am in good company... I feel really good here. If you want me to... you know that I have no commitments. I'll stay a few more days, why not?"
Neil nodded, smiling, happy. Norman lit a cigarette.
"I'll clear the table now," he said, standing up.
"Alright, but don't wash the dishes. Today's a holiday; we'll have all the time we need tomorrow."
"Alright. Can we go out for a while, later?"
"Certainly."