On My Knees (7 page)

“What are your plans for the day?” Attila asked, spooning sugar into his morning coffee.

“I’ll get into the office. Need to face up to a few problems.”

“Serious?”

“Could be. But then again, I’ve survived this far. And now…” My thoughts drifted. In the last few hours my life had taken a completely unexpected turn. Or had it? Had I always known but only now opened the door to my real feelings?

“Now what?”

“Oh, I don’t know how to explain it really. Things are all a bit clearer. A lot clearer.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I told you. It’s like all my life until now has been a charade. A play. My life has been like a play and I’ve been in the auditorium watching it rather than being in it.”

He shook his head. “You have a funny way with words.” He bit into a slice of toast.

“Well, it’s true. I know no one will understand me, but I know what I feel.” I drank my coffee and watched him plough through his breakfast.

When he’d finished he stood up and looked at me. “There’s something I have to tell you.” His tone filled me with dread. He sounded like a judge about to pronounce sentence.

“Yes?”

“You won’t like it, and I’m sorry.”

I wanted to stand but my legs wouldn’t respond. I held onto the edge of the table. “Go on.” He was going to ask me to leave. I knew it.

“I have a little holiday booked, with an old friend.”

“Oh, right. A boy friend?”

“No. Just a friend. I’ve known him for years.”

“Oh.” I felt as if I’d been plunged into a bath of cold water.

“We leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I know. It’s bad timing. But I can’t cancel, it would ruin it for him.” He looked at his watch. “I gotta get ready. Come up.”

I followed him to the bedroom and lay on the bed, watching him choose a tie.

“It’s only four nights.”

Four nights. It might as well have been four months. We hadn’t even got to know each other, and he was going away. With another man.

“And he’s not a boyfriend?”

“No. We did mess about a bit once, a couple of times, but that’s over fifteen years ago. There’s nothing like that between us.” He looked at me. “There isn’t.”

“OK, if you say so.”

“I do. And look. You have to trust me. I suffered years of jealousy in my previous relationship, and I’m not prepared to put up with it again.” He went to the mirror to fasten his tie.

Trust him. Right now I’d rather tell Diana I was gay all over again. “Where are you going?”

“Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam?” I sat up. “And why, may I ask?” I knew the answer. He didn’t need to tell me, but I wanted to hear it.

“I booked it long before I met you.”

“But—”

“I’m going. It’s just a bit of fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“The only reasons anyone goes to Amsterdam are sex and drugs. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not denying it. As I’ve said, it’s a bit of fun. A few saunas, a mess about. That’s all.”

Talk about mixed emotions. I didn’t want to lose him by over reacting, by pissing him off, but this was unbearable. My head reeled, my stomach knotted and broken glass dragged across my heart. I would die, knowing that he was over there having sex with someone else. Yet I knew I had no choice, other than to lose him. I was heading for this like I headed to the dentist, with that sensation of being able to turn and run away yet not wanting to do so.

“Anyway, it’ll give you some time to take stock of your situation,” he said, brushing his jacket. “We can talk about it more tonight.”

I got off the bed and tightened the belt of my robe. He was ready to leave and I followed him to the door. “Are you sure you couldn’t cancel it? If you explain—”

“Mark, please. It’s only four nights. It will fly by. Now, I gotta go.” The door clicked shut and he’d gone.

Fly by for you, maybe. But how will I survive?

* * *

Alex was already at his desk when I got to the office.

“Crikey,” he said, “I was wondering when you’d surface.”

“Oh, Alex. I’ve been through rather a lot in the last couple of days.”

“You look well on it.”

“I feel well. No, not well as such. Overall I feel much better but—” My voice trembled. The swell of emotion took me by surprise.

“My dear chap,” said Alex, getting to his feet. He pulled out a chair for me. “Let me stick the kettle on and you can tell me all about it.”

All about it? Well, not all, perhaps. I went to my own desk, removing my coat on the way, and switched on the computer. A queue of urgent emails was piling up on the screen when Alex set the tea down in front of me.

“So, go on, then,” he said, sipping quickly from his mug.

I sat back in my chair. “I told her, she threw me out, I moved in with Attila.”

I ducked to avoid the stream of tea that erupted from his Alex’s mouth. He almost choked.

“Attila? You’re not serious?”

“It’s a bit unusual. But it makes him exotic, don’t you think?”

“Sounds dangerous to me, never mind exotic.”

“He’s not dangerous. He’s lovely.”

“I can see you’re smitten.”

“More than smitten. I told you. I really like him.”

“You say Diana threw you out?”

“Doesn’t want me to set foot in the place again.”

“Crikey. Sorry.”

“Suits me, Alex. It’s over. Better this than some long, drawn out battle.”

“It’s just…odd. I mean, you’ve been with her what, ten years?”

I nodded.

“You don’t seem too upset.”

“I’m not. I feel guilty—that seems to have been built in from birth—but I’m not upset. I think I’ve known for so long that our relationship was over that I’ve already grieved.”

Alex sat shaking his head. “It will hit you at some point. It’s bound to.”

“Alex, I don’t care. I’ll get over it. Diana will get over it. I’m nearly forty. I’ve been given another chance and I’m taking it.”

“Life begins at forty,” he said, brightening.

A silence fell on us as we finished our tea. The tip of Alex’s nose twitched, a sign that he was deep in thought. Finally he said, “And Attila is content for you to live together? I mean, it seems awfully quick.”

“It is quick. But I know it’ll be fine. Once we get over the next few days.”

“I think it will be more than a few days—”

“No, not for that reason. I mean…well…he’s going away tomorrow for a few days. I’ll be all alone.”

“Well, needs must. Business is business.”

“It’s not a business trip, Alex. It’s a holiday. And he’s going with a friend. A man.”

Alex looked like he’d come face to face with a gunman. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed. And that’s not the worst. They’re going to Amsterdam.”

“Oh, how lovely.”

“Alex. Wake up. Why do people go to Amsterdam?”

“Well, it’s lovely place. And there are some good art galleries and—”

“And sex. Sex, sex, sex.”

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know that’s why they’re going.”

“I do. He told me.”

“He told you?”

“Yes. He’s very open about it.”

Alex looked like he’d been smacked between the eyes.

“He says it was just a bit of meaningless fun. He’s not fased by the idea of me sleeping around, either. He calls it messing about. Says it means nothing.”

“Well, there are lots of open relationships, I suppose. I’m not against it. If you can cope, though. It takes a certain strength.”

“I have to cope. I don’t know how, but I have to. It’s just so different from what I’m used to.”

Alex’s reply was halted by the postman barging into the office. He dumped a bundle of letters on the corner of the front desk and left with a casual “Good morning.” I flipped through the bills and final notices, and pulled out the only unusual envelope. It bore the mark of a law firm in Camden Town and I knew instantly what it was.

“Now the fun begins,” I said, slicing the paperknife through the top. “Let’s see what she’s going to throw at me.”

“Solicitor, already? She didn’t waste any time.”

“I didn’t expect her to.” I scanned the two-page letter. “Ah, here we are. She seeks a divorce on the grounds of my unreasonable behavior.” I looked up and smiled at Alex.

“Oh, well, I suppose sleeping with a man could be regarded as unreasonable. Don’t you think?” he said.

“Yes, I would certainly have had no problem agreeing to that as the price of my freedom. But I don’t need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have ammunition, Alex. She’s been having an affair.”

“No!”

“And I have proof. I think a photocopy of it sent to her lawyer will do the trick. Don’t you?”

As I watched Attila pack his suitcase that evening, I wondered if he would come back from his adventure a different man. Would he still want me? Or would he meet someone more deserving and return to throw me out? I had to smile at the thought of being out on the street twice in a week. In a perverse way, I felt that the tables had been turned on me. Penance, for what I’d done to Diana.

It was an evening of meaningless chatter, like we were dancing around each other not wanting to make contact. I wanted to talk about his trip, this friend he was going with, what his plans were, but he refused and went in a mood when I tried. I still wonder that I didn’t leave him then, but in my heart, I knew that I wanted him.

* * *

When Attila left for the airport in the morning, I felt almost bereaved. I suppressed the urge to run after him, to go down on my knees and beg him not go. It made me feel like a child, and I would never feel like that ever again.

I showered, dressed, and went to the station like a zombie. As I neared the ticket booth, a tramp, lying on the ground among newspapers and cardboard, called out to me.

“Cheer up, Guv. Can’t be that bad.”

He was right, of course. It wasn’t that bad. It was worse. I stared at the blank faces in the elevator. Was the old man in the homburg in an open relationship? Were he and his wife members of the Golders Green Swingers group? How did he cope? It was all far removed from my reality.

* * *

The working day was a write-off. I couldn’t concentrate on anything and, as usual, ended up in the nearby wine bar with Alex. It was barely midday. Many people thought Alex was gay and, in some ways, it was a pity he wasn’t. He was a good friend—honest, dependable, wise. And he never judged people harshly.

“You didn’t say anything about…you know…” He looked around the room and lowered his voice. “That address I gave you.” He sipped furtively at his wine.

“Amazing place. No one would believe what goes on.”

“So I understand from Adam. You get on OK?”

“I met a very nice guy, in some TV soap. I was going home with him, actually, when I bumped into Attila.”

“You never said.” Alex emptied his glass and set it down on the counter. “Must have been awkward.” He refilled his glass from the bottle.

“Well, I feel bad about dumping the other guy but…he wasn’t Attila.”

“So, what are you going to do this evening? I don’t think it’s a good idea to sit alone at home. You need to keep your mind active.”

“Hadn’t thought about it. You making suggestions?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I have to get back. In fact, I was going to ask if you could manage to hold the fort and let me get away early?”

“Considering you’ve covered for me these days, I don’t see a problem.”

“Thanks ever so. Shall we get another bottle?”

* * *

The office was a tomb once Alex had left. As the evening drew in, I felt the breath of the old black dog on my heels once again. What purpose would it serve if I stayed to the bitter end? Yet, if I went back to the flat, Attila would not be there and I’d be all alone, surrounded by his things to remind me of him.

It was only one stop on the train from here to Waterloo. And the sauna was only five minutes from there. Regardless of sex, I had enjoyed the place. Once I got over the initial embarrassment. I loved the music, the smells, the raw thrill. Never had anything excited me so. All those men driven by lust. It would pass a couple of hours, if nothing else. Attila wouldn’t mind. He’d be on his hands and knees in Amsterdam by now, so why shouldn’t I have a bit of fun? I pictured him with a Dutch cock in his mouth while some other guy took him from behind. I was turned on, so I turned off the heating and lights and locked up.

* * *

The same Faithless track was throbbing against the arches when I arrived. The place was less busy than the last time, but it wasn’t quite home-time in the City; apparently the suits tended to pop in on their way home.

I showered and went upstairs to the cruising area. A cursory promenade revealed no one remotely interesting. A silver-haired man who looked as if he’d had rickets licked his lips and beckoned me to join him. In my haste to escape, I hurried round the corner of the cubicles and bumped into a barrel of a guy, so hairy he may have been wearing a fur coat. The body odor made me retch. I forced my way past. I remembered there was a rudimentary bar on the ground floor. I’d sit there for half an hour and see if things improved.

I found myself a solitary chair in the darkest corner of the bar. I flinched as my naked back made contact with the cold plastic. Everything was plastic in there, including the glasses. If only there had been alcohol to numb the senses. I sipped my water and watched the miscellany of human forms pass by. I certainly needn’t worry about getting old, judging by this lot.

I dare say that it was a direct consequence of staring at such relics that made the new arrival seem so much better than he was. About my height, in better shape but with a hint of a belly, he smiled when he saw me. He leaned against the bar on his elbow while he finished a small carton of juice, making sure I knew he was looking at me. When he made a move, he looked back over his shoulder. I’d been picked up.

I followed him into a cubicle and locked the door. He already had my towel off and was tugging at my balls as if he intended to harvest them. Then his face was against mine. His mouth opened wide and the halitosis infested my nostrils. I pulled back and turned my head away.

“Don’t you like to kiss?” he said.

“No.”

“Do you like to fuck? I want you to fuck me.”

“No.” I began to feel queasy.

“So, what do you want to do?” He was trying to salvage my waning erection in his hands.

“Look, sorry, but I’ve got to go,” I said. I bent down to get my towel and felt his weight on my back.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“No. Look, get off. I made a mistake, OK? Sorry.” I forced myself upright and he toppled.

“Tosser,” he said. “Fucking wanker.”

“Sorry.” I raced to the locker room. I had to speak to Attila.

At least the place was still quiet. I sat on the bench, leaned against the locker and dialed Attila’s number. It went to his voicemail. I opened my mouth to leave a message and then closed it. I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what I was doing in this place. I didn’t really want to do anything with anyone, except Attila.

I ripped off my towel and got dressed. I’d stop at the liquor store on the way home and buy something nice to put me into a coma until tomorrow. I’d pass the next four nights like that and then he’d be home. It was the best solution.

* * *

The cork came out of the Pouilly Fumé with a satisfying plop. I poured myself a large glass and turned on the TV. Anything was better than my own company. It seemed to be soap time, but I soon found the BBC 24 news channel. I watched it without paying any real attention, until a face appeared on the screen that I knew. I stopped drinking and turned up the volume. It was Justin. An old photo, but him for sure. I’d missed the start of the report but the gist was clear enough. He’d been rushed to hospital. He’d been found just in time. Suspected overdose. His wife was flying in from Canada.

Poor bastard, I thought, and filled my glass. So he was married. Of course, they could be separated or anything, but I still felt lucky that I hadn’t spent the night with him. My life was complicated enough.

I grabbed my cell phone the instant it rang, hoping it was Attila. Without checking the screen, I answered.

“I assume you got the letter?” It was Diana. I felt ill.

“I don’t really think now is a good time.”

“Always avoiding the issue. Typical. I want to sort this now.”

I sighed. There was little point in putting it off. “Fine. Go on.”

“My lawyer says that if you admit unreasonable behavior we can have it sorted quickly. Under the circumstances, I think it’s the least you can do.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Don’t you?” Her voice rose.

“Oh, come on, Diana.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me. You haven’t been entirely honest.”

“How dare you? Do you know, you’re just…”

I let her stew while she sought the words. Even she must have realized her plan was in danger.

“You run off with a man and expect anyone to believe that I’m at fault?” she asked.

“Well, as you said, under the circumstances.” I poured another glass of wine. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

“Look. How about if we meet?”

“Meet?” Right then, I would have preferred to stand on my head in a sewer.

“Look, I just thought,” her voice softened, “that this is all too quick. Maybe if we talk it over we can find a way.”

“A way to do what?”

“I know there are women who live with gay husbands. Can’t we at least try?”

“Try what? Are you seriously suggesting that we somehow stay together in a sham marriage?”

“But if you could, you know, see men as well?”

I collapsed into the chair. Then I stood up and paced the living room. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to live a lie anymore. Don’t you understand? And,” I didn’t give her chance to intervene, “aside from me being gay, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Don’t you get that? I can’t stand being with you. I can’t stand your mess and your nagging. Not for one more day.”

“Why don’t you come round? Maybe if we have the night together?”

“You have some bloody cheek.”

“What do you mean?” There was curiosity in her voice now.

“You’re the one who’s been having the affair.”

“Lies.”

“You have. Don’t deny it. At least I remained faithful until the last.”

She was laughing and crying on the other end of the phone.

“I wasn’t the first to break my vows, was I?” My throat ached from shouting.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Who’s lying now, eh?”

“This was a mistake. I’m going.”

“Not before I tell you this. No fault divorce, Diana, or I’ll be turning the tables. You’ll go down as an adulteress.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Can’t I? I have all the proof I need.
From D to C, even our naughty bits love each other.
Sound at all familiar?”

She hung up.

* * *

It was almost two in the morning. The wine had worked wonders for a few hours but now it was keeping me awake, filling my head with thoughts of Amsterdam. What dives was Attila frequenting and what was he up to right now? I regretted my vivid imagination. Even plotting my moves on the divorce front didn’t drive away the sordid images.

I decided to make some chamomile tea. I wrapped myself in the robe that had become mine and descended the spiral stair. As I reached the last step, I became aware of the main door opening. I stopped. The light from the hallway spilled into the living room and cast a dark shadow on the floor. I went hot and cold all at the same time. Jesus, did Attila have a wife, too? Was this her? Or maybe a jealous lover who would cut me up and put my remains in the freezer for Attila to find on his return?

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The sound of that voice.

“Attila!”

He switched on the main light, and there he was with his suitcase, just as he’d left in the morning. He smiled at me and his eyes glistened.

“Hi.” He put his case on the floor. There was a crumpled look about him. His shoulders sagged, and his face reminded me of a bloodhound. He seemed almost shy.

“What are you doing? You’re in Amsterdam.”

He pushed the door shut with his heel. “I got the first available flight back.”

“But…I don’t understand…” I stood on the bottom step, unable to move.

“I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”

“I am. I am. Of course I am.” Now I rushed towards him and he opened his arms.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and he crushed me in his arms.

“It’s OK. You’re back. But…I still don’t know why. What happened? You were so determined.”

“It must have hurt like hell. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course. But…what changed?”

“When I left this morning, almost as soon as I’d closed the door, I wanted to come back to you. I felt bad, leaving you like that. Oh, Christ, I can’t believe I did that to you.” I felt him tremble and knew he was crying.

“Please, darling, stop. It’s forgiven.”

“You’re lovely, do you know that?” He wiped his eyes with one hand and looked at me.

“I don’t know about lovely.”