Boys Don't Cry (25 page)

I kept expecting tripwires, but none appeared. The whole thing took close to an hour but I didn’t even come close to losing my cool and a lot of what Veronica said was actually useful and informative. The only sticky moment came when Veronica asked, ‘How’s your brother, Adam, doing? I understand he was in hospital a while ago?’

‘That’s right,’ said Dad evenly. ‘But he’s much better now and getting stronger every day.’

‘I’m glad,’ smiled Veronica. And this time, the smile was sincere. ‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me or to add, Dante?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘OK then.’ Veronica stood up. ‘If I could just see Emma, then I’ll be on my way.’

I led the way upstairs. Emma was still fast asleep in her cot. Dad, Veronica and I stood at the side of the cot watching her for a few moments.

‘Is she talking yet?’ asked Veronica.

‘Yeah, quite a few words actually. And more every day,’ I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. I bent over the cot to stroke my daughter’s hair.

‘She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?’ Veronica’s genuine smile lit up her eyes.

‘Yes, she does. She’s my daughter . . .’ Sod that. ‘She’s my world,’ I admitted.

Veronica’s grin broadened. ‘Well, time for me to go. I hope I’ve been of some use to you both.’

‘Yes, you have,’ said Dad, holding out his hand. Veronica and Dad shook hands.

‘Thank you, Veronica,’ I smiled, holding out my hand also. She and I shook hands, a little firmer and a little longer than was absolutely necessary.

When she left, Dad and I exchanged a look of relief and smiled. That was the one bit of blue in a sky full of grey rain clouds.

Spring had finally arrived. It was the day before Adam’s birthday and I wanted to do something extra-special for him. I couldn’t buy him anything as I was stony broke. But I needed to do something to blast him out of his lethargy.

Leaving Emma in the sitting room, I headed upstairs to see my brother. Adam was sitting in his chair staring out of his window over our secluded back garden as per usual, his back towards the door. He was getting more and more sensitive about anyone seeing his face – even Dad and me.

‘Hiya, Adam,’ I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat and cheerful.

He didn’t answer, but then I didn’t really expect him to do otherwise.

‘What d’you want for your birthday tomorrow?’

Silence.

‘Come on. You must want something. And it’ll be with love from Emma and me,’ I told him, hoping he’d get the message.

‘Can I have a mirror?’

I must’ve misheard. ‘Pardon?’

‘Can I have a mirror, please?’ Adam repeated.

‘What? Now?’ I asked, confused.

‘Yes, please.’

I wasn’t sure about this, but Dad was still at work so I couldn’t pass the idea by him. I thought of phoning him but it seemed silly to phone Dad just because Adam wanted a mirror. Wasn’t that progress of a sort, the fact that Adam was ready to look at his face again?

I hurried off to get the bathroom mirror which Dad had stored in the cupboard under the stairs. Maybe . . . maybe I was finally going to get my brother back. Once back in Adam’s room, I turned the mirror so that the back of it was towards Adam. He slowly turned to face me.

‘Shall I hold it up for you?’ I asked.

Adam nodded.

I turned the mirror round, before lifting it up till it was level with Adam’s face. Time stood still as Adam studied himself. The scar on his temple was very faint, as were the scars left by the stitches on his cheek. His right cheek was no longer mottled but the skin wasn’t smooth like before either. The most noticeable disfigurement
was his right eye which was still noticeably drooping.

When at last Adam did speak, all he said was, ‘You can take it away now.’

I put the mirror down and leaned it against the wall next to the door.

‘I guess my acting career bites the dust,’ said Adam.

‘What’re you talking about? You could still be an actor. Come on, my brother can do anything he sets his mind to,’ I said. ‘And if that doesn’t work out, there are plenty of other things you could do.’

‘I never made a back up plan, remember?’

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t make one now.’

Adam didn’t reply.

‘D’you . . . d’you want to talk about that night?’ I asked tentatively.

‘Talking about it isn’t going to change anything.’ Adam shrugged.

‘Didn’t it help when you heard that Josh had gone to the police and given himself up?’

‘Not really,’ Adam said. We could’ve been talking about the colour of our roof tiles for all the emotion he displayed.

I needed to ask him the question that had been bugging me all these months. ‘Adam, why did you do it? For God’s sake, why did you kiss him?’

‘ ’Cause he . . . he kissed me first,’ whispered Adam.

I stared at him. ‘Huh?’

‘D’you remember the night of your end-of-year do at the Bar Belle?’

I nodded.

‘Well, after you left, Josh tried to kiss me. I wouldn’t let him. So he punched me instead.’

Shocked didn’t even begin to describe how I felt at that moment. ‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘Why would I lie, Dante?’

‘But when I asked you, you told me Josh had nothing to do with it,’ I reminded him.

Adam shrugged. ‘Well, I lied then because Josh was your friend and I didn’t want to cause trouble between the two of you, but I’m not lying now. Josh really did try to kiss me.’

My eyes were beginning to ache from staring so hard at my brother. Josh had tried to
kiss
Adam? And then punched him instead?

‘Your split lip,’ I remembered.

‘Yeah, that was Josh. The day after, he phoned to apologize and invited me out for a drink. And after that we started going out together . . .’ said Adam.

I sat down, stunned, wondering if something had gone wrong with my hearing. I felt like something large and heavy had just fallen on my head.

I realized that what had landed on me was the truth.

‘You and . . .
Josh
?’ I said, dazed.

‘We just hung around together, going to the cinema or for a meal,’ said Adam, adding in a whisper, ‘I was so happy . . . I thought I’d found someone. I thought we were together.’

Silence.

I couldn’t have said a word then, even if I wanted to. That must’ve been the time when Adam had been
out almost every night. He’d been very happy then . . .

Adam seemed to get lost inside himself for a while, as if he was remembering that time too. ‘But Josh hated to be seen with me,’ my brother said softly. ‘And he wouldn’t talk about things that really mattered. And he still put me down and made . . . homophobic comments when others were around. I really liked him, Dante. But I couldn’t be with someone who was living a lie like that . . .’

‘So what happened?’

‘I dumped him.’

‘You
what
?’

‘Yeah.’ The ghost of a smile flitted across Adam’s face. ‘Josh didn’t take it too well though. He kept phoning me and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I put a block on his phone calls. I think that’s what made him so angry with me.’

And now at last it all made some kind of sense; the antagonism between them, the strange looks, Josh’s bitter comments. Adam was gay and didn’t care who knew it, including me and Dad. Josh was gay and couldn’t deal with it. All this time, all his derogatory comments about gays – and the person he despised most had been himself.

‘Talk about messed up.’ I shook my head, still trying to pull my thoughts together. ‘All this . . . this chaos because Josh couldn’t admit to himself that he’s gay? For God’s sake, it’s not a disease you can be vaccinated against. You’re born gay or you’re born heterosexual. End of discussion.’

‘And if you’re bisexual?’

‘Bisexuals are born . . . straddlers! A foot in either camp.’

Adam looked at me, a strange gleam in his eyes.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘So being gay isn’t just a phase?’

‘Huh? Of course it isn’t. What on earth are you . . . ?’ And then I remembered the conversation Adam and I had had over a lifetime ago about the exact same thing. ‘Damn it, Adam.’

‘What? I was just asking,’ smiled my brother.

‘Yeah, well, you’ve made your point.’

‘No,’ Adam replied. ‘You made it for me.’

My brother thought he was so slick.

‘So you and Josh . . .’ I said, returning to the subject uppermost in my mind.

‘Yeah. Me and Josh.’

In spite of myself, I felt sorry for my ex-best mate – not much, but a little – and that surprised me. He was the last person who deserved any sympathy, not after what he’d done and yet that’s how I felt. But it was Adam’s feelings that mattered now; mine were irrelevant.

‘Do . . . d’you ever think of Josh?’

Pause.

‘All the time,’ Adam replied.

Oh, Adam . . .

‘Wouldn’t it help to try and forget him and move on?’ I asked tentatively.

‘How do I do that, Dante? Every time I touch my face, I remember. Every time I take a breath, I remember.’

What could I say to that? When we were young, every time Adam hurt himself, I’d fix him up with a plaster or a
drink or some sweets and then I’d give him a hug and we’d carry on.

But that was when we were both young.

‘You know the letter I got yesterday?’ asked Adam.

‘Yeah?’ I was the one who’d brought it upstairs for him.

‘It was from Josh,’ said Adam.

What the . . . ? ‘Why did he write to you? What did he want?’

‘Calm down, Dante.’ Adam smiled faintly.

I took a deep breath, but lines of suspicion and creeping anger creased my forehead.

‘He’s not doing too well actually,’ said Adam.

‘My heart bleeds,’ I said scathingly. ‘Did he write to blame you for that? Where’s his letter?’

‘I threw it away,’ Adam replied.

‘Quite right too. Best thing for it. What else did he say?’

‘Not much. Except he was sorry.’

Sorry, my arse.

My brother went back to his chair and sat down. I watched him for a few moments, my anger fading as I did so. Where was Adam? I longed for my brother to return.

‘Adam, how much longer are you going to stay in this room?’

Adam didn’t answer. He continued to stare out of his window, his shoulders slumped, his whole attitude one of defeat. I hated seeing him like that. It wasn’t my brother sitting in the chair; it was just my brother’s shell.

‘Daddy?’ Emma peeped round the door into Adam’s bedroom.

Adam moved round in his chair so that we could no longer see his profile.

‘Emma, I left you in the sitting room.’ I frowned down at her. I hadn’t realized she could make it up the stairs without me. And I only left the child gate closed if Emma was already upstairs.

‘Heyo, Unckey . . .’ Emma’s version of ‘Hello, Uncle’ greeted Adam, the uncertainty in her voice very evident. She hadn’t seen Adam properly in weeks and could still probably remember him shouting at her.

‘Dante, could you leave, please?’ said Adam, turning round further in his chair so we had a good view of the back of his head.

Emma toddled into the bedroom before I could stop her. ‘Heyo, Unckey,’ she said again. ‘Heyo.’

Adam stiffened in his chair at the sound of her voice getting closer. He desperately wanted me to take Emma and leave, but something held me back. Emma waddled around the chair to face Adam. She looked up at him, then smiled, her arms outstretched.

Adam looked down at his niece.

Emma wriggled her arms at Adam, her meaning clear. Slowly Adam bent to pick her up. I released the air in my lungs with a hiss. I hadn’t even realized that I was holding my breath. Adam placed Emma on his lap. I moved further into the room. My brother was holding Emma like she might break. I realized with a start that he was giving her a chance to bolt, to run and hide from his face. Emma reached out one small hand and stroked it down the scars on Adam’s cheek.

‘Hurts?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Adam whispered.

‘Lots?’

‘Lots.’

‘Kiss?’

Adam sighed, then smiled – the first real smile I’d seen from him in a long, long time. ‘Yes, please.’

Emma clambered to stand up on Adam’s thigh whilst he still held her. She leaned forward and kissed his scar-ridden cheek, then she wrapped both arms around his neck and held him as tightly as he held her.

And I could see from where I was standing that Adam was crying.

Emma wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her good cheek against my bad one and hugged me like she was never going to let me go, like she could feel every single thing I was going through.

It was so strange to have her try and comfort me. I held onto her and once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. And still Emma held onto me. She didn’t shy away from my face, not once. She didn’t look at me like I was some kind of freak either. Instead, she just kissed my cheek and hugged me some more.

And what made it hurt so much was that it was exactly like when Mum used to hold me.

I woke up the next morning, feeling not just good but great. Adam had finally let Emma see his face. That had to be a good sign. I didn’t expect miracles, at least not instant ones, but I refused to take the events of the previous night as anything but a good omen.

And I’d been called back for a second interview to work as a night-time cashier at the local petrol station. It wasn’t exactly glamorous but at least I’d be making some money. As it was, I’d only been able to get Adam a card for his birthday. I couldn’t afford anything else. But from now on things could only get better.

I got Emma out of her cot and after tidying her up, took her downstairs for her breakfast. Dad was already there. He’d beaten me to it.

‘Morning, Dad.’

‘Morning, Dante,’ Dad replied with a smile. ‘Morning, angel. I’ve made breakfast for everyone.’

‘Bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages and beans on toast?’ I asked hopefully.

‘Croissants,’ Dad replied.

I’d settle for that. I fancied something a bit tastier than
my usual cereal this morning. ‘Shall I pop up and see if Adam might come down and join us?’ I asked as I put Emma in her highchair.