Someone Else's Son (37 page)

‘I said I wanted to, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, but you, like, never show me. I don’t know where we stand any more.’ Frantically, Max rubbed his hands through his hair. His face couldn’t hide the anguish he was feeling. He half turned away, hoisted his pack further on to his back. ‘They’re right, you know. I’m just a fucking loser.’

Dayna’s longing transformed quickly into anger. ‘So having me just proves to everyone that you’re not a dickhead, is that it? What you gonna do, put pictures up on Facebook?’

‘Dayna . . .’ Max bowed his head and dug his heel into the crumbling tarmac. ‘It’s nothing to do with anyone else. I’m, like, really into you but . . . I dunno . . .’

‘Now,’ Dayna said clearly. The school grounds were virtually empty again apart from half a dozen kids loitering around the gates. ‘Let’s do it now.’

‘What you on about?’ Something in Max changed, Dayna thought, as if she’d flicked a switch inside him. His neck tensed and his cheekbones – she’d always thought they were so pretty – seemed to stand out even more, making him look dangerous, scared even. It was all there, tied up inside her. God, how she adored him. She was going to go for it. Wouldn’t she lose him otherwise?

‘Let’s do it. Now. In the basement.’ Maybe the switch had flicked inside her instead, because Dayna found herself pulling Max by the hand and running back towards school. They’d been on their way to science, but none of that mattered any more. Nothing in the world mattered apart from showing Max how much she loved him, even if she couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t have them become like Romeo and Juliet, torn apart because of other people. If one thing went right in her life, she wanted it to be Max.

‘Hurry,’ she whispered as they stumbled down the deserted corridor. She knew Max was shocked. ‘I want you,’ she heard herself saying as they pushed past the cleaning equipment that was always stacked up in the entrance to the basement. She knocked over a bucket, sending echoes through the space that would soon be the venue of her most cherished memories. Even in the dark, she could see the glint in Max’s eyes. She trotted backwards, pulling him on by the hand. He swallowed and opened his mouth but nothing came out. ‘Don’t speak,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

 

Max surveyed the scene although he didn’t really take in the litter that still lay strewn across the dust sheets from their last visit. Something smelt bad – probably the scraped-out tub of pâté, plus there was a sticky mess where he’d spilt his Coke the other day.

Were they about to have sex right here, now?

He felt himself being tugged towards the little sanctuary they’d made on the floor. Pathetic really, but it meant the world to him. Since he’d known Dayna, she’d given out signals that were impossible to read. Some days he thought she was teasing him and asking for more and yet other times she was cold and distant. In Dayna, he saw himself. They were both messed up.

‘What are you doing?’ He sounded ridiculous.

‘Max . . .’ was all he heard her say. He knelt down when he felt her gently press on his shoulders. The concrete was cold on his knees. Her eyes never left his.

‘I don’t get you, Dayna Ray.’ He wanted to be angry at her, for leading him on, because he knew they wouldn’t go all the way. How many times had she cried on his shoulder or fallen asleep in the hut with her head on his lap as he figured out competition slogans?

‘You don’t need to.’ The words floated like dust motes in the semi-darkness. Max felt his bag being lifted from his shoulder. She dumped it next to hers. ‘We are boyfriend and girlfriend, aren’t we?’

Max wanted to laugh but he kept quiet. He might scare her off. How he was torn between wanting her – she was so dainty and pretty beneath all that black eye make-up – and actually having her.

Would tomorrow feel any different?

‘Of course we are,’ he said. Was it really going to happen? ‘Look, I’m sorry about before. It was those boys earlier.’ Max remembered their comments. It didn’t even hurt any more.

‘You’re with me now,’ she said. ‘Nothing bad’s going to happen.’

Max felt something stirring, something he never usually allowed to surface. It was a longing so deep within his soul that it actually hurt his skin as it burst out.

‘Dayna . . .’ He lifted his hand. He was going to stroke her cheek but she caught his fingers and kissed them. Jesus, he thought. Jesus Christ. This was real. This wasn’t some snatched kiss at the park or a rushed snog during their lunch break. This was Dayna making love to him.

Love.

Even if she did nothing more than kiss those fingers, those lucky, lucky fingers on his right hand, he would be satisfied.

He went giddy. When he focused, he watched his hand being drawn down from her lips and on to her breast. The breast that hid behind her white school blouse, teasing him within the lines of the white bra he knew she wore.

But it hardly seemed like his hand any more, not when he felt the shape of her pressed against his palm. Even through the fabric, he could feel how warm and soft she was. They were a perfect fit. He daren’t move. She let go of his wrist and his hand stayed there all by itself. Life didn’t get much better, he thought, as he suddenly realised that she was staring down at his school trousers.

‘It’s not what you think,’ he said. He hated himself all over again.

‘I hope it is.’ The confident laugh made Max wonder, briefly, if she had done this before. He didn’t want to think about it.

‘Well, yeah, it is . . .’ He rolled his eyes.

There wasn’t really much more talking, not that Max could recall anyway. Dayna reached round his shoulders – her face so close he could feel her breath on his chin – and she tugged his school jacket off. His mobile phone fell out of the inside pocket. Max felt himself sweating despite the cool, damp air of the basement. Should he take something off her in return? He gave an involuntary shudder as she tackled his shirt buttons and his top half was exposed.

‘Oh, Max,’ he thought he heard her say. She dropped his clothing and stared at his body. He knew he was skinny. Maybe she didn’t like him. He’d been trying to put on weight but couldn’t. He wanted to look like a man, not a kid. Shit. He should save himself now, get up, grab his stuff and run for it.

Dayna leant forward and left tiny kisses on Max’s chest. They went straight to his heart.

Gently, yet leaving him no option but to obey, she guided him down on to the floor. It was cold and hard against his back, but he didn’t care. He was shivering now – with both anticipation and fear. He would mess this up, of course he would, but he didn’t think there was a way out now; wasn’t even sure he wanted one.

Something was happening. In the half light, Max saw Dayna fiddling with his belt, his zipper, his trousers. Did she want him to lift up his hips so she could remove them, or would that make him look like a fool? He wished his first time could have been with someone he didn’t care about, to practise.

Max felt the waist of his trousers loosen but then there was nothing. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he saw Dayna, beautiful Dayna, unbuttoning her blouse.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ he remembered saying, but she ignored him. She swept a glance down his body, her eyes clearly showing that she wanted to. It turned Max on no end. He never thought he’d feel this way in real life; thought it was only possible when his mother wasn’t home and he’d got a beer or two and some pretty pictures on the internet.

It was like watching a butterfly emerge, he thought, as Dayna’s blouse slipped from her shoulders. One cuff got caught on her hand and she struggled to free it, trying to find the buttons. She glanced at him with big eyes, perhaps wondering if he might help, but Max was frozen. He was convinced that if he moved, it would all be over and he would wake up in bed alone.

Finally, Dayna pulled off her blouse. She gave a coy smile. Max’s eyes dizzied in and out of focus at the sight of her almost naked top half. His arms stuck up in the air, beckoning her down on to him and she didn’t hesitate, pleased at his invitation. A warmth spread over his skin as she melted on to him. Her arms threaded round his neck and he shifted, allowing her to settle.

‘Hey . . .’ he heard himself saying. She uttered a soft moan in return, busying her lips with his neck and working her way round to his mouth. Then they were kissing, tentative at first but Max quickly sensed her urgency and allowed himself to relax under her small frame. His hands swept across her back, one slightly bent round to her side so it could feel the first rise of her breast still nestled within her bra. He heard the clatter of chairs and footsteps in the classroom above, which made him absolutely terrified that they would get discovered. They’d never survive the aftermath. It would kill them.

‘Oh, Max,’ Dayna whispered. ‘I want you.’

Max felt himself harden more, but it wasn’t the same as usual. This time there was need, a desire, a promise at the end.

‘You sure?’ he asked. His voice was a muffled rasp all tangled up in her hair.

‘I’ve never been more certain about anything,’ she replied.

In one swift move, Max had rolled out from beneath Dayna’s warm body and was hovering over her, getting rid of the rest of her clothes. With her breasts freed from her bra, he wasted no time in pulling off her tights and knickers. He left her skirt where it was.

He was really going to do it.

Something would go wrong. He thought he might throw up.

Max dropped down on top of Dayna. He didn’t have much of a clue what to do or how to do it. He hitched up her skirt. Once he was in place, once Dayna’s throaty, pained noises and the clenching of her nails in his back had subsided to tentative moans and scratches rather than gouges, Max found himself totally lost in a place he never thought he’d visit.

Then it was over.

He fell down on top of her, his weight making her gasp. His body had never felt like this before and his mind, for once, had been allowed to forget everything. He reached for his trousers and dug in the pocket. He pulled out the spare key to his hut; to his heart. He gave it to Dayna. ‘What’s mine is yours,’ he said. He knew he was in love.

 

Dayna walked home by herself that afternoon, but oddly she didn’t feel quite so alone. She felt that something, someone, was with her, would always be with her and that gave her comfort as she stepped inside the front door to witness her mother throwing a glass jar across the kitchen. It just missed Kev’s head and smashed against the wall, splattering sick-coloured curry sauce everywhere.

‘Where you been?’ her mother yelled. ‘Help me clear up.’

Dayna dumped her pack, not wanting the feeling inside her to wear off. Her feet crunched through broken glass.

Max had made love to her.

She took a dishcloth and wrung it out. They’d had PE after lunch but she’d sat out, claiming she had a tummy ache. Someone had spat on her head. Dayna scooped up as much of the mess on the floor as she could and washed out the cloth. She did this over and over. In fact, she convinced herself that she would happily do it all night long as well as any other jobs her mother threw at her.

Nothing mattered now. She had Max. They’d had sex. She was a woman.

She’d wanted to tell him that she loved him but hadn’t quite been able to get the words out.

Brody stopped and sniffed. Bleach. He slammed the door closed and let his bag slide off his arm.

‘Stop now!’ he yelled. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He imagined a little Max standing on a stool at the sink, pink rubber gloves up to his elbows, pot scrubber in hand and bubbles flying everywhere. Try as he might, Brody had one hell of a job to see his son as the near grown-up man he was rather than a kid amusing himself with a bowl of warm soapy water.

‘It’s a shithole again, Dad. You can’t live like this.’

‘Just watch me.’ Brody felt around the worktop for a glass. ‘What the hell have you done with all my stuff?’

‘Washed it. Put it away.’ Max emptied the water and scrubbed the draining board. ‘You can’t let yourself go, Dad. It’s been years.’

Brody refused to listen. ‘I’m alive, aren’t I? Doing OK.’ If he knew where everything had gone, he’d swipe it all on to the floor just to show Max how little he cared about it all. ‘Your mother. When we were together, she used to go on about this kind of thing—’

‘Mum went on about housework?’ Max laughed as he dried his hands. ‘I’ve never seen her do a damn thing around the place. She has Martha and about a hundred cleaners come in each week.’

‘I know, son, I know what your mother’s like.’ Brody sighed and leant against the wall.

‘But you haven’t seen her in years.’

‘Nope.’ Brody didn’t admit to playing re-runs of Carrie’s show on his computer. He’d listen to the same snippets of her voice over and over, remembering how things were, wondering how life had come to this. ‘She’s not happy, is she?’ Brody reached out for his son’s face, feeling him flinch as his hands landed first on his cheekbones then his forehead and hair. ‘You’re a handsome boy, Max. I’m proud of you.’

Max pulled away. ‘I . . . I don’t know if she’s happy. We don’t talk much.’

‘And are you?’ Brody heard the soft rustle of fabric, perhaps his son shrugging.

‘What? Happy?’

A question with a question. Brody waited, hoping the silence would bring out what he’d been wanting to talk about for ages.

‘Dunno. Yeah, I guess.’ Max’s voice was flat. It was all Brody had to go on.

‘How’s that girl of yours?’

‘I told you. There isn’t a girl.’

‘Then all the women you bring back here wear the same perfume.’

‘I don’t bring
women
back here.’ Max slammed a cupboard door.

Brody grabbed his son again. ‘Max, why won’t you talk to me? Why do I feel there’s this huge
thing
between us?’