A Note in the Margin (21 page)

Gradually, John became aware of David’s fingers moving through his hair in slow caresses. He looked up and, not knowing what to say, simply straightened enough to rest his cheek against David’s belly. He could feel the strong beat of David’s pulse through the warm skin and hear the quiet gurgles. John smiled sleepily at how
right
this all seemed and kissed him lightly before letting himself drift.

Waking
was easier than it had been; there was no resentment of the morning at giving up the refuge of sleep. David leaned back into the steady rise and fall of John’s chest against his back and the warm breath that barely ruffled his hair. The sun was already up and David realized they’d both slept in.
You fell asleep without setting the alarm.
He smiled.
What am I doing to you, John?

David closed his eyes and his hand drifted slowly back until it rested lightly on John’s hip. He smiled when John murmured a few unintelligible words in his sleep. The skin was smooth under his palm as he carefully explored the contours of John’s hip bone. Delicate changes in temperature and texture all registered behind David’s eyelids as his fingers continued their journey down John’s thigh. He could feel the press of John against his buttocks and squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to etch every touch, smell, and sound in his memory. He needed this to last.

Soft lips brushed over the back of his neck before the low rumble of John’s voice. “Morning, Dave.”

“Hey,” David answered quietly and withdrew his hand, embarrassed that he’d been caught touching.

“You don’t have to stop.” John grinned against his neck.

“Yes, I do.” David sighed. “I think we’ve slept in.”

John groaned, eased away from David, and craned his head to look back over his shoulder. “Shite. I can’t remember the last time I slept through my alarm.”

“I think you were too exhausted to set it,” David mumbled with a small smile.

“Mmmm… oh yeah, I remember.” John chuckled. “You know, maybe we should just leave the store closed today and spend the whole day right here?”

Although David smiled at John’s suggestion, the intimacy of it made him hesitate. He appreciated how strange it was to feel this after all they’d been through, but a whole day with nothing to distract John from him seemed frightening, too revealing. “Maybe not, John,” he said in a very small voice. “Or you’ll end up out there in my home rather than me sharing yours.”

The comment, or maybe the tone of voice, made John stop. He rested his forehead against the nape of David’s neck, wanting to tell him this was his home too, but he knew it wasn’t true. The bottom drawer remained empty despite the state of the once-white paper bag.

He sighed, gently rubbed his hand over David’s shoulder, and said, “Yeah, time to get up.” David felt the air cool against his back and the mattress shift as John got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Breakfast had already developed into a comfortable routine. David organized the coffee and set the table while John fussed around the frying pan, scrambling eggs and adding an assortment of unnecessary condiments. Full plates and steaming mugs were placed on the table and they settled to enjoy their food and quiet conversation.

John watched David get up to pour another coffee and couldn’t help but wonder what his life was like before. How long had it been since he shared a simple breakfast with his son? When David handed him his mug and sat down, John asked cautiously, “Did you do this with Adam?”

David glanced briefly at John and then back to his plate. “Adam hates… hated eggs. He used to always try to convince me that he was allergic to them.”

“Was he?” John said, hoping David would continue.

David huffed a small laugh and looked up. “Nah, but it was a good excuse to get me to make French toast.”

“But doesn’t that have eggs in it?” John frowned.

“Yes,” David replied with a broad grin.

John laughed and shook his head. “You sound like a good dad.”

David stopped cutting his toast and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “I miss him.”

John was at a loss what to say. He didn’t know David’s history, why he was no longer part of his son’s life. He nodded sadly and suggested, “After yesterday I think you need to see him, Dave. You still have time to get the bus, take the whole day off if you want… even if that just means catching up on your reading.”

David pushed his plate a little further onto the table and rubbed his thumb over a coffee mark on the lip of his mug. John patiently piled another mouthful of egg onto his fork while he waited. It actually took three forkfuls before David answered with a quiet, “Thanks, John. I better get going then.”

David
stepped into the bus and pulled a couple of balled-up notes from his pocket. It took him a while to straighten and sort them, no different from every bus trip, but this time the driver gave him an irritated look and told him to hurry it up rather than looking past him until he could snatch the offered money, avoiding contact and conversation. David took his change, mumbled “thank you”, and sat in a seat near the back of the bus.

He stared absently out the window and watched the world go by like he usually did, but this time it felt very different. He was clean, he’d eaten a real breakfast with someone he loved, and the money… well, he was almost proud of the work he’d done for the money.

When the bus pulled up at the stop, David stepped off. He still kept his head down and eyes on his feet while the other passengers moved away, but David took up his position in the corner of the bus shelter feeling more positive than he had in a long while. Although the morning sun warmed his legs he kept himself in the shadow where he could see out without being easily noticed.

David watched the usual parade of teenagers, some moving quickly from family wagons lest they be seen by their friends while others parked barely roadworthy but much-loved older-model cars covered in crude stickers and rust-retardant paint splotches.

A couple of kids skulked into the shelter and sat on the bench. They shot David a look, but quickly decided he was no threat to their plan to ditch school. David listened to their excited chatter and smiled at the possibilities of youth and a whole illicit day.

“Hey, Robinson, come here,” the taller of the two boys called out when he noticed a blue car pull up. David’s heart started to pound and it suddenly became difficult to breathe. He didn’t dare look up when he heard the shouted reply of “What?” He tried to make himself as small as he could in the shadow of the corner.

“Wanna keep those ‘L’ plates on and drive us to the city?” the other boy yelled at the driver of the car, ignoring the man swapping seats with the teenager.

Adam looked over and shook his head. “Get the fucking bus, you losers.” He laughed when they flipped him the bird and then gave the man now at the steering wheel a sheepish look as he reversed out of the parking space.

David didn’t take in their derogatory remarks about his son or even their half-interest in whether he was all right or about to have a heart attack. He sat quietly with his head in his hands until the return bus pulled up.

The return ticket shook as he held it out to the driver and David quickly retreated to the backseat. He’d felt completely trapped in the little bus shelter. The thought of Adam seeing him, recognizing him, made him feel physically sick.
What could I have done if he’d come over? Could I speak to him or would he speak to me? Would he even know who I am?
Questions chased themselves around and around David’s mind until he forced himself to stop. He narrowed his focus on the glass of the window, mapping each of the scratches and reading the backward lettering of the message intended for those outside the bus. His breathing gradually eased until he reached the point that he could look up and take in his wider surroundings. He was near his stop.

It was still early when David got off the bus and he debated whether or not to head straight back to the store. The two teenagers jumped down the steps and ran off along the sidewalk, laughing and arguing over what to actually do now they were there. He watched them push each other into oncoming pedestrians and then disappear into a music store. He turned in the other direction, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and started to walk toward Margins.

The midmorning sun was warm on his shoulders and helped dispel the cold sweat that had lingered since he first heard the boys call Adam’s name, but the knot deep in the pit of his stomach was still there. Barely two blocks from the store, David stopped and sat on the edge of a concrete planter box. He picked up a couple of discarded cigarette butts and a chocolate wrapper and threw them in the trash can next to the planter, then looked up at the small tree. Its branches had shed the naked gray of winter and fresh tender leaves were already uncurling. David ran his fingertips over a patch of mottled bark that had obviously been picked at by another pedestrian seeking a quiet moment. But despite neglect and unintentional abuse, the tree still followed the seasons and grew. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.
It’s okay. Let it go….

After pushing his hand wearily through his hair, David stood up, took a breath, and started to walk.

His fingers fiddled idly with the money still in his jeans’ pocket as he went to pass a small store with an assortment of backpacks hanging outside. David stopped and frowned at the range of colors, brands, and logos. He pulled the money out of his pocket and carefully counted out the change before lifting down a dark blue pack with several pockets, but no flashy brand name.

As
soon as David walked through the door of Margins, John knew something was wrong. David’s body language always gave him away. “Did you see Adam?” he asked cautiously. David merely nodded without lifting his head and made his way through the store. John and Jamie gave each other a look.

Jamie started to move from behind the counter to follow him, but John quickly put his hand on Jamie’s arm and shook his head. “I’ll talk to him. How about you flip the door sign and go get us some food.” Jamie sighed and watched John walk up the store before putting the kettle on a low heat, grabbing some money out of the cash register, and heading out to do his sandwich run.

David was sitting quietly, his boots already side by side on the floor. He knew one of them would soon arrive to check on him and steeled himself for the questions.

John sat quietly in the spare chair and picked up the bag. He turned it over in his hands and attempted unsuccessfully to suppress a sharp bout of queasiness. He tried very hard to keep the fear out of his voice when he asked, “You going somewhere, Dave?”

David looked at the bag and then John. With a slight frown, he shook his head and took the pack back. “It’s just to put my things in, that’s all.”

It was on the tip of John’s tongue to tell him he didn’t need a cheap pack for that, but he left it. Instead he smiled, closed his hand over David’s, and said with a humorless chuckle, “You had me worried there for a minute.”

David gently pulled away so he could put the pack down beside his chair and then slowly twined his fingers in John’s. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to.” He paused for a moment before adding quietly, “I saw Adam this morning.”

John cocked his head and watched David’s expression carefully as he asked, “I know, Dave. What’s wrong?”

“He nearly saw me,” was the near whispered answer.

“Would that have been so bad?”

David nodded and grimaced. “He can’t see me like this.”

“Like what, David? Have you looked at yourself lately?” John asked, a little surprised.

David ignored the reference to his appearance and muttered, “He’s better off without me.”

John remembered being told the same thing when
his
father left and felt his frustration rise. “Can’t he be the one to decide that?”

Although he didn’t answer, John could see the tension in David’s expression and felt how unresponsive his hand had become. Pushing back his own issues, John squeezed David’s fingers. “It’s up to you, David. I know it’s none of my business.”

“I love him so much, John, that it hurts like hell to stay out of his life, but that’s how it has to be. I know how it was today and I know I couldn’t speak to him and explain where I’ve been… what I’ve done.” He frowned briefly and added, “I started writing him letters a while back.”