Wishing on a Blue Star (43 page)

Adam didn’t answer but relaxation stole through me, warm and caressing, like the chocolate drink itself.

“Billy and me… you know? We don’t bother saying it. You know.
It
.”

“You don’t need to.” Adam laughed softly. “But for a journalist, you have a damned clumsy way with words sometimes.”

When I looked up to protest, raw from exposing my soul, flushed from knowing he didn’t need anything explained anyway…

He’d gone again. But this time, it didn’t feel like abandonment.

* * * *

I didn’t see Adam for a while after that. Life was busy for both Billy and me, so I wasn’t conscious of loss. The Far East job went well and they gave me my own features column. I travelled some more, but I made a point of never being away for too long. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t doubt Billy— or even me, for that matter— but it felt better to be at home.

Home.
God
. I was turning into the parents. It made me smile to myself.

I was pleased they coped with a son and son, rather than the more common heterosexual relationship. Mum blushed when Billy was affectionate with me, but she’d probably have been the same if I had a cute girl in tow. And Dad enjoyed having someone to talk football with.

The shop did well and Billy started sponsoring some local school teams. People came to ask his advice about sport in the community; about links to national clubs and funding projects for facilities. Sometimes I stood on the sidelines when he was coaching, trying to separate the offside rule from various other arcane black magic rituals, and wondering when I could take another nip from my hipflask without the kids seeing.

They were young and enthusiastic. They glowed with it. Had we been like that?

Then I’d look at Billy, and know he still was. It was both an exhilarating and deeply comforting feeling. And it made me want to slide my hand down inside his shorts again, like the first time. There was a sports shed at the far side of the field, too. When he came over at half time and asked why I was laughing, I had to censor my reply from too-teenage ears.

I probably wasn’t as fit as Billy—actually, I knew damned well I wasn’t, despite keeping the six-pack toned with some easy gym routines—and after one weekend at a couple more football tournaments, I slept more heavily than usual. When I stirred, my limbs felt lazy, my vision still fogged. The bedroom was dark apart from the glimmer of a streetlight from outside, sneaking in through the blind. Can’t have been much past midnight.

Adam was beside the bed.

“Hrmpphh,” I muttered in way of a greeting.

“Wake up,” he said. “Properly.”

I pulled myself clumsily up to sitting. I didn’t bother asking him to whisper. “I seem to remember you saying you weren’t going to go all voyeur on me and Billy, you know.”

He didn’t laugh, which was the first worry. Even though we hadn’t been around each other for a while, no one had ever laughed at my lame jokes like Adam did.

“Chas, you need to get him to hospital.”

I stared at his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Who?”

“Good God.” The phrase had always seemed very old from his young mouth, but now it sounded pained as well. “Billy, of course.”

It was late, right? I was still only half awake.  That’s the only excuse I had for turning slowly and aimlessly to stare at Billy, asleep in the bed beside me. For not understanding what the hell Adam was going on about. “What do you mean? He’s fine.” Billy had spent the day running up and down the pitch, yelling encouragement, finding praise for every single boy or girl, returning good natured smiles at the parents watching proudly from the wings. Especially the single mothers who simpered shamelessly at him…

“Chas? Listen to him.”

I did. Carefully. Billy had always been an intermittent breather, worse when he had a cold, but that was nothing sinister. Was it?

An hour later, I was sitting huddled at his hospital bedside, watching him in carefully regulated sleep, a monitor recording his heartbeat and checking it for any irregularity. The room was over-heated while the corridors were slightly chilly and very quiet. But it was late, wasn’t it? I thought I’d said that before—or thought it, at least.

It wasn’t
too
late for Billy, thank God. The doctor had been very cheery. That type of arrhythmic breathing was a common symptom, apparently.  He must have seen the panic in my face, though, because he hurried on to explain he didn’t mean serious heart or lung disease. No, they’d taken tests and would do an ECG, but Billy’s lungs were fine, his body still young and healthy. It was probably an early symptom of an overactive thyroid, something like that.

“Something like what?”

The doctor had given me that professionally reassuring smile they must practice in the mirror during medical training.  The condition could be treated with drugs, it wouldn’t necessarily develop into anything more overt. No, Billy may not have to give up all his sport, or—his leer at me looked thoroughly suspicious—anything else requiring strong physical exertion. But I’d done the right thing, alerting them quickly. I should just keep my eye on things for the time being.

I stared at Billy, swaddled in the smooth white sheets, and I thought I’d probably never take my eye off him again in my life.

“It wasn’t his time, Chas. He’s okay now. It’s all under control.”

I smiled at the sound of Adam’s voice, even his scolding. No one had ever known me so well. It would have been good to feel his hand on my shoulder, but it wasn’t as if I needed the touch to know he was there. “You’ve been away, haven’t you? Lucky you chose tonight to come back.”

He laughed softly. “Lucky, yes, maybe. But I have other places to go, you know.”

“Other people to snoop on?” I laughed in echo. The sound faded underneath the blip of the monitor. It was reassuring now, rather than frightening as it had been at first. I’d hardly ever been in hospital myself. Never seen anyone really ill. Never imagined that someone I loved might be at risk…

“Chas, believe me. He’ll be fine.”

“I believe you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

There was a companionable silence for a while. I glanced down at my shirt to find I’d mis-buttoned it in my haste to get out of the house and into the ambulance. I fiddled with one of the buttons, but I didn’t bother re-fastening it.  “Are you leaving again now?”

Adam moved so he was in my line of sight, and I could look at him as well as Billy. “Soon.”

I nodded. I’d never felt so tired myself, but it was exhaustion born of relief.

I rested my head on the pillow beside Billy and slept.

* * * *

Billy woke properly around breakfast time the next day. He gave a disgustingly robust yawn and glanced over at me. I sat in the chair, leaning on the side of the bed. I’d been drowsing and drawing warmth from him, watching the way his muscles tensed every time he took a deep, nurturing,
normal
breath.

“You look…” I couldn’t think of the right word, if indeed, it existed. “Good.”

“Do I?” His voice was croaky.

I stretched up and my neck cricked. “Yeah. Of course, some of us have slept on a chair, you know. Some of us have drunk too many cups of sludgy machine coffee, eaten stale doughnuts and fended off calls from worried parents every half hour. I’ve also spent plenty of time wondering where the fuck you left the password to the online supermarket in case I have to handle this week’s shopping on my own…”

“Chas?” He reached over and grasped my pale hand with his strong one. “Don’t cry. I’m okay now.”

“You scared me.” That was a stupid thing to say. But it had been a time of stupid happenings, it seemed to me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. But when I glared at him, he was smiling.

Dammit, I smiled back. “What would I have done?” The words spilled from me, against my will.

“Nothing’s going to happen. I’m fine. I heard the doctor explaining it to you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? But you didn’t see fit to let me know you were back in the land of…?” I paused. Bit my lip.

Billy chuckled. He let his head fall back on the bed. He still looked very tired, but I was elated now I could speak to him, touch him, hear him. “You were all right,” he murmured. “You had other company.”

My body went very still while my thoughts whirled. “What do you mean? Your parents insisted on coming down so they’re on their way, but otherwise you’re to have rest. Those nurses are trained in minimum effective force, you know. They’re not going to let a troop of teenage midfielders charge through here with muddy knees and bags of chips to cheer you up…”

“I heard you.  Even when I was unconscious, I think. I heard you talking to Adam.”

“Adam?”

Billy sighed and nestled further back into the pillow. “It’s all right, Chas. I mean, it’s not as if you’re a loony or anything, is it?”

“No. Is it?” I stared at him. “Um… how long?”

He snuffled like a baby finding its blanket. He’d be asleep again soon. “I don’t know who or what the hell he is, but he’s been with you all the time I’ve known you, hasn’t he? Or at least, you’ve been talking to him for that long. Maybe not as much recently. Since we moved in together.”

“Maybe not as much recently.”  I sounded like a hoarse parrot.

“Stupid. It’s all right,” Billy repeated. “He loves you too, right?”

Now I was impersonating a goldfish, my mouth opening then closing with barely a sound coming out. “Billy… some people
would
think I was a loony.”

“Well, some people would think I was an uneducated, unimaginative sports jock.” Billy sighed again, no real rancour in his tone. “Who cares about them? I know there are things I don’t understand, but that’s not the same thing at all.”

“My God, no,” I whispered, my words heartfelt.

“So he’s looking out for you, the same as I do.” He gave a soft, halting cough. “Looking out for me, too.”

I nodded.

“Of course,” Adam said from behind us, startling me.

“Not every day,” I said, quickly, my eyes still on Billy’s flushed and sleepy face.

“No,” Adam agreed. “But whenever you need me.” His voice softened even further. “Whatever happens to you, I’ll always be with you.”

“Whenever I need him,” I said to Billy, too loudly, too brightly, like I was passing on a neighbour’s goodwill message. Perhaps that was what I
was
doing. I could feel the warmth from Billy’s blanket-wrapped body and also from Adam behind me. Such very different kinds of heat, but a combined reassurance and faith I knew I’d never find anywhere else.

Billy chuckled again, but it was already turning into a snore. I’d never been so glad to hear that rasping, infuriating noise in my life. “Bloody hungry,” he muttered, and then his eyes drifted fully closed.

I lifted my head and wiped my eyes. Must have had a cold coming on. I couldn’t feel Adam anywhere around, but it really didn’t matter. He wasn’t actually there, but he always could be.

It works for us both
, he’d once said.
I’m part of your life
.

I reckoned I could go another night in the hospital chair, now I knew things were okay again. I wriggled to get slightly less uncomfortable, and smiled to myself, remembering a voice that wasn’t there, and yet was as familiar to me as my own.

The better part
.

I might even go and find another cup of sludgy coffee first. And some doughnuts for when Billy woke again.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Comparatively speaking

Well before all the cancer crap started, I had the sneaking suspicion that I am congenitally unable to feel good, for long. Now, with recent events, I’ve pretty much confirmed that suspicion.

Thus, we return you from a brief respite to more selfishness, childishness, and whining.

Thank you for your patience during that minor slip into pleasantry.

(At this point I’m supposed to say “It won’t happen again, but in point of fact, I rather hope it does.) :)

--ed.

According
to
Wordnet at Princeton
,
comparatively
means:
in a relative manner; by comparison to something else.

So by extension, comparatively
speaking
means I’m talking about something that I’ve held up and examined side by side with something else. In this particular case, other people’s problems.

I’ve discussed this with a few very close friends, and by close, I mean these are people who generally understand what I’m trying to say as opposed to what it might sound like. :)

In those discussions, I mentioned how difficult it was nowadays to hear other people’s problems and not compare them to mine. Wait. Let me clarify that. Difficult? Call it damn near impossible.

In the early days of my so called writing career, (which ironically coincides with my cancer career) I used to be logged in to Twitter pretty much 24/7. Despite being a horrible time suck, it was a fun way to keep in touch, keep up on events (and gossip, have to admit that) and the general doings of like minded individuals. Unfortunately, it also gave me too much of an opportunity to compare problems because we as human beings tend to share both good and bad news. Thus, not only would I hear about how so and so wrote four thousand words that day, or overcame a sticky plot hole, etc. I also heard about how various situations made it difficult to write anything at all.

Perfectly understandable. The gods know all manner of daily situations make writing, full or part time, something of a chore. And like the aforementioned human beings, how can one not help but empathize, compare, and commiserate?

@busymomwriter: Ugh, the kids were impossible today. I barely got the first chapter outlined and its already 10pm!

@fulltimeEDJ: My boss dumped a stack of unfinished reports on my desk that are due tomorrow! There goes my chance to finish Chapter Three today...

@itsmorethanahobby: That sucks, @busymomwriter, @fulltimeEDJ. I know the frustration, but I got 2k today despite the power outtage. Longhand by candle!