Loving Jay Part 7

"Yes. Well... no. I don't know. It's just I feel... less... of a man now. Like I can't measure up."

"That's bulls.h.i.t. That's your dad talking. Your dad always measures people in terms of what they do on the outside, not what they are on the inside."

"Still...."

Aaron sent me a look, shaking his head as if I was being stupid. "Excuse me? Aren't you out here fishing at the moment? Didn't you watch John play football yesterday? Don't you have a c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s under those jeans? What part of that is not being a man?"

I looked out over the ocean. It was a great day for fishing-overcast, still, and no rain. I was here with my best friend, who'd known me since I was five. He'd known me through acne and bad teeth and my accident. He'd helped me with my physical therapy and brought me my homework so I could keep up in school. Would he still be my friend if I was gay?

"What if I decide I don't really like girls?"

Aaron didn't look surprised or shocked. "Are you saying you wanna try it with a guy?"

I turned the reel of my fishing rod, bringing the line slowly in, even though there was nothing on the hook. "I have tried it with a couple of guys."

Aaron gripped my arm and swung me around. He didn't look shocked or disgusted, just surprised and wildly curious. "What? When?"

I shrugged. "A while ago."

"And?" My friend was agog.

"And what? It was... I dunno. About the same as with a girl."

Aaron looked skeptical. "To me, being with a girl is the best thing ever. I never want it to stop and I think constantly about where I am going to get it next. Is that what it's like with a guy?"

I shook my head. "See! I think the accident f.u.c.ked something up in me. To me being with a guy or girl is about the same. I like it while it's happening, but I'm not in a rush to repeat the experience again." I pulled my line in and checked the bait before casting out again. "I'm broken or something."

Aaron threaded some more bait on his line and hurled his tackle back into the water. "I don't think the accident f.u.c.ked you up at all, Liam. To be truthful, even growing up you weren't into girls with the same intensity I ever was."

"No?" This was news to me. Jeez! Had I been gay all along and no one ever bothered to point it out to me?

"No. You never had nudie posters on your wall or hid Playboy under your bed. You'd talk girls with me when I asked, but you never brought up the subject. You went out with Holly Stevens before your accident, but only because she asked you. When we hit the nightclubs, I was always checking out the flesh, seeing if there would be someone who would take me home for the night. You were more interested in getting drunk, and if the club offered expensive microbrew s.h.i.t."

"Flippin' heck, Aaron. Have you been cataloging all that for a while?" My best friend (who was supposed to help me out with this sort of stuff!) just shrugged in reply. "So you think I'm gay?"

"Are you saying you are gay, Liam?"

I felt like my whole f.u.c.king world had been turned upside down. I didn't know what to do, so I just pulled my line up and rebaited my hook. "I dunno. My dad would kill me."

"f.u.c.k your dad. What do you want? If you want guys, then fine. I don't give two s.h.i.ts about who you do it with, as long as you are not checking me out."

"Gross! f.u.c.k off, dude!"

Aaron laughed, secure in his s.e.xuality and not disturbed at all about mine. "So why are we having this conversation now?"

The big, blue ocean was calming and peaceful, the rocking of the boat serene. I sighed as I looked out over the surface. "I've been... attracted to this guy for a while now. But I don't know why. He is... different."

"Jay?"

I sighed again. "Yeah."

"Okay, then. Tell me about him."

So I did. I told Aaron all about the makeup and the dramas and quirkiness. And Aaron had only one thing to say: "Ask him out, mate. You have nothing to lose."

MONDAY MORNING I encountered a big problem. Jay was returning to work so I went to get our coffees (well-one coffee and one mocha) and realized I couldn't carry them while I was on my crutches. I stared at them sitting on the counter, debating what to do since I needed to get moving or else I was going to miss the train. It took me twice as long as anyone else to walk the distance.

"Can I help?"

I swung around and found a woman standing behind me, smiling widely. She had friendly eyes. I'd never seen her before.

"Can I help? I can see you didn't realize you needed extra hands."

"Ahh.... Sheesh. Are you going to the train?" I felt like a total d.i.c.k. She grinned and began to pile the drinks on top of each other. She had her own coffee, so she carried all three in a stack as we slowly made our way to the platform.

"What did you do to your leg?" she inquired as we moved along.

"I tore the muscles of my thigh. Nothing atrocious."

She winced. "Ouch. I've heard that torn ligaments and muscles can be more painful than a broken bone."

"I guess it depends on how bad the break is. I shattered my thighbone seven years ago and it's now held together with plates and screws. I can say that this is better than that."

She laughed at me as we reached the gates. I held the coffee stack as she dug through her purse for her rail pa.s.s. We chatted about the weather and about nothing in particular as the escalator bore us down to platform level. The information board was telling us that the train was still two minutes away, so I sat on the metal bench and relieved her of the coffees.

"Thanks a million for carrying that for me. I wasn't thinking this morning when I ordered them."

She laughed, throwing her head back so her blonde hair flew over her shoulders before settling on the bench with me, the coffees on a spare seat between us.

"You must be addicted to coffee to need two!" Her smile was wide, the bright-red lipstick she wore making it seem bolder and bigger than it probably was. I wondered what Jay's mouth would look like with that color. I'd never seen him with red lipstick, even though he wore red a lot. He was more into that colorless gloss stuff that made his mouth look wet. I noticed the woman was wearing a tight red suit that perfectly matched her mouth. The skirt was short and I wondered how she kept warm. Her legs looked cold, and her feet were probably frozen lumps of ice in those red high heels. At least men got to wear trousers and socks.

"No. Just one for me. The other is for my friend who will hopefully be here any second." I twisted around and there he was. "Jay! Buddy! You made it! Jeez, your face looks terrible. At least the puffiness has gone. Hey! You got the st.i.tches out. But I have to tell you, dude, that shade of yellow is not you!"

I thought he would laugh, but he wasn't even smiling, just standing there flicking glances between me and the woman. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his expression looked really strained, as if he were upset. Suddenly I realized with a sinking feeling that this was probably the first time he had been to the train station since the attack. f.u.c.k! The poor guy is probably scared s.h.i.tless with bad memories and c.r.a.p.

I bounded to my feet, ignoring the pain from my thigh to put my arm around his shoulders. "Jay! It's okay. Jeez, you should've taken your car in today or something. You don't need to be here. Is it the attack? Are you freaking out? Remember what I said? Nothing bad will happen if I'm here. Now sit in my seat and I'll get your mocha for you." I pushed him into my place and limped over to the coffees, pulling the lid off to make sure it was his frothy mocha and not my flat white.

"Here. Drink this. I got it just the way you like it." He finally reacted, and grasped the cup as the train pulled in. I hated being a cripple and all the c.r.a.p that went along with it, like the fact that I couldn't just stand and walk onto the train. I fumbled with my gear, got my backpack on and my crutches under my arm. I pa.s.sed Jay my drink as he stood in antic.i.p.ation. The doors opened and I headed for the nearest seat-the disabled ones with lots of leg room so I could put my crutches on the ground. Jay sat next to me and I realized he still hadn't said a word.

"Jay? What's up? Talk to me." I was starting to get really worried and placed my hand on his knee. Jay not talking was like snow in Perth during winter. People claimed it happened, but I'd never seen it before. "Jay?"

At last he turned to me. "Who was that?"

"Huh? Who?" I looked around but could only see four other people on the train. Nothing out of place. There was the fat woman who looked pregnant and the older thin man who I always thought sat as if there were a ruler taped to his back.

"The woman!"

"What woman?"

"The lady in red!"

"Chris de Burgh?" I was completely lost.

"Her name is Chris?"

"No. The singer's name is Chris. Chris de Burgh. 'The Lady in Red.' The song?"

"What?"

We looked at each other in confusion for a moment before I sighed. "Start again. What did you want to know?"

Jay looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. "Who was the woman you were talking to before the train arrived? The woman in the red suit?"

Clarity dawned on me, but I was still lost in the wake of the wave. "Her? I don't know. She helped me from the cafe when I suddenly realized I couldn't carry the two coffees and use my crutches at the same time. Did you know her? I didn't ask her name."

Jay's head tilted one way and then the next, scrutinizing me. I felt uncomfortable, like I was the bug and he was the scientist-the mad scientist with the magnifying gla.s.s, ready to zap me with a beam of sunlight.

"You don't know her name?"

"No. Sorry. She should be on the train somewhere if you want to look for her. I'd offer but my crutches make me pretty useless."

"She was beautiful."

That stumped me. Here I was thinking he was gay and he was checking out pretty girls. "Was she?"

"What did you think of her legs?"

I frowned at him. "Yeah, poor girl. I was thinking she looked d.a.m.n cold and isn't it great we are guys and can wear trousers and socks."

"That's it? What else did you think about her?"

Was this a test? Was he testing my powers of observation? Gay guys were supposed to see these things on women, weren't they? Weren't they supposed to notice haircuts and weight loss? Oh, G.o.d-maybe he was testing my gayness? Did I want to pa.s.s or fail? I searched around for something to say and hit upon makeup. Yes! Makeup! Jay loved makeup and he would see I was great if I noticed makeup, too!

"I noticed her red lipstick. It was bright."

"Bright." Jay's voice had gone flat as if I had just failed a crucial test. s.h.i.t! What else could I say to make him appreciate me?

"Yes. I noticed that you never wear red lipstick like that, even when you are wearing red clothes. Why not? I see you in lipstick sometimes. But never red. Do you have red? I thought you would have red. You wear a lot of red."

Jay just blinked at me. "Let me get this straight. You were talking to a gorgeous blonde woman in a tight red skirt and heels, with a chest that has Playboy ringing her once a month for an interview, who was smiling and flirting with you like crazy and all you noticed was that she looked cold and her lipstick was bright?"

Oh. Whoops. We were talking about b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Straight men usually notice b.r.e.a.s.t.s, don't they? s.h.i.t! "Ahh...."

With his head tilted to the side he speared me with his next question. "Liam, are you straight?"

s.h.i.t! "Ahh...." Confession time, Liam! You can do it! How the h.e.l.l are you ever going to ask the guy out if you can't even admit to liking guys? "Ahh... not exactly."

Jay looked shocked. "Not exactly? You mean you are gay?"

I cast a quick look around the train to see who was listening to our conversation. You never knew who was around these days-your high school princ.i.p.al, your mum's best friend, John's footy coach. I must've had some sort of frightened look on my face or something because Jay's eyes went wide and he suddenly whispered, "Oh. My. Gawd! You're in the closet!"

"Ahh...."

"You are!" He acted like he'd never met a person who was hiding their s.e.xuality before. It was if I were some sort of freak of nature. His mouth dropped open and his hands came up to his face in some sort of "I am so shocked" pantomime.

This was not exactly the best place to be having this sort of conversation. I hissed angrily at him. "I'm not in the closet! I don't even know if I am gay or not. I'm just... exploring my options." Yes. "Exploring my options" sounded like a good thing to be. Isn't that what people said when they were going job hunting? Well, I was going... s.e.x hunting.

Jay didn't look convinced but he at least got the message that we shouldn't be broadcasting our conversation. He lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. "How can you not know if you're gay or not?"

Well that was the big twenty-million-dollar question, wasn't it? "Not everyone is like you, Jay. You sound like you have had it easy in life. You've never doubted yourself, you have a loving, supportive family, and you are free to be different. I don't have that. I am trying to wade through some deep bulls.h.i.t at the moment. Things are not as clear-cut for me. And why should I go through the ha.s.sle and the pain of telling everyone I am gay if I am not really? I just want to be sure of myself and make sure it's worth it."

It pleased me that Jay didn't just wave it off like it was an easy decision. As if I were trying to decide whether to go to the beach or not today? Or should I buy the salt-reduced tomato sauce or stick with the better-tasting salt-laden variety? He sat back, deep in thought, as the train took us closer to our destination. He sipped his mocha and I appreciated the s.p.a.ce. I had just cracked the door another inch by admitting my feelings to Jay and he was giving me room to breathe and digest without panicking.

We had just pulled out of the Canning Bridge Station when a sudden thought occurred to him and he became reanimated. "Oh my Gawd! I almost forgot! Mum reminded me last night but it was too late to ring you or send you a message because it was after eight o'clock at night and I didn't know what time you go to bed. Because I sometimes go to bed before eight o'clock. Getting up before four in the morning is a real killer and I really need my beauty sleep. And I know you must need your sleep, too. Not that you aren't beautiful enough or anything. Oh my Gawd! Does that offend you? Am I allowed to say you are beautiful? Because I hate to be s.e.xist and only say women are beautiful and men are handsome. That's so mean, isn't it? Because I've known a lot of handsome women who I wouldn't call beautiful. And there are men who-"

"Jay!"

"Huh?"

"Off track or something, are you?"

"What?"

I happily smiled at him. He was atrociously bad at going off on tangents. I was glad the attack hadn't changed any of that. "You started off by saying your mum reminded you...." I prompted.

"Oh my Gawd! Just slap me! My mum wants to know when you can come over for dinner? She was thinking Sunday lunch? Because dinner would just be too hard when you have to work the next morning and I know that Sat.u.r.day night and Friday night are 'date nights' and I wouldn't want you to have to miss out because my family wants to meet you and say thank you and everything. And I told them you wouldn't want to, and then Mum said that maybe you would. And Jackie said that you...."

I couldn't slap him, so I did the next best thing. I brought both hands up and encircled his head-one hand across his mouth so it cut off the noises coming from his lips, and one hand around the back to hold his head still.

"Jay! Stop, man! Let a person respond. Jeez! Are you stopped?" I grinned at him and he nodded his head within the hold of my hands. "Right. I'm sorry but I can't come to Sunday lunch because I have plans with my family. But Sat.u.r.day night would be fine. I don't have a date, and if you tell me your address and what time, I'll be there."

JAY ENDED up coming to pick me up. I had a.s.sumed correctly that Jay's house would be within walking distance of the bus, since he caught one each morning, but when Jay told me that I could turn up any time after five o'clock and that I should just park on the gra.s.s, I had to confess I didn't have a car and-in a blow to my manly image-I didn't have a license.

"Is it because of your leg?" he'd asked me, just curiously, not with any mockery in his voice.

It was a touchy subject for me and I had borne the brunt of my father's scorn over the issue for many years. "Not really. It's just more of bad memories of the accident. I was sixteen when the accident happened, then most of my mates got their licenses when they were seventeen. I was nearly nineteen before I tried, but I ended up panicking behind the wheel. So I left it. After a while I just got used to taking the bus or having friends and family drive me around. Now I really don't see the point. Why spend fifteen grand a year on insurance, petrol, maintenance, and a car loan, for something I would use twice a week at the most? Instead I put it on my mortgage."

So at five o'clock on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, just before the sun set in the winter sky, I stood freezing my nuts waiting for Jay on the paving. I had fussed over what to wear, but in the end decided that if Jay's family couldn't accept my jeans and woolen jumper, then it was their own bad luck. I left the hair fixing and makeup to Jay.

The sky was turning a lovely shade of pink when Jay motored up the road, looking for an empty parking spot to pull into. It could only have been Jay's car-no one else on earth could or would drive something as bad as that. He saw me and turned sharply into the s.p.a.ce in front, waving gaily through the windscreen. I stepped back, unsure if I even wanted to get near that vehicle, but he leaned over and pushed the door open.

"Liam! Hi! Get in. Am I late?"

I shook my head and checked out his sunny-yellow car, complete with rust on every single panel and sprinkled with a fine layer of dirt. "I dunno, dude. I think if I get in this car I'll exit wearing glitter and makeup and calling everyone I meet 'darling.' This has to be the gayest car I have ever seen!"

"Oh, hush! You'll hurt Daisy's feelings."

"Daisy?" Oh, G.o.d! He'd even named the piece of junk!