Chapter 11
Eleven
Christian
Asher seems to shrink back in his chair, as uncertain as I’ve ever seen him. He glances at me for help, and then back at Leo.
“A misunderstanding at the desk,” I say easily. “I wonder, Asher, if you wouldn’t mind finding me an iced tea from somewhere? I have such a craving for it.”
He stands immediately, looking relieved to have a means of escape. “Yeah, sure. I can do that. Um, can I get you anything?” He directs this at Leo.
“I’m good,” my son responds, stonily.
Asher nods before slipping out of the room.
I turn to Leo. “Did you come straight from the airport?” He has a rucksack by his feet and looks like he hasn’t slept in days, eyes rimmed red with shadows beneath them.
“Um, yeah, there was a flight out last night, stopover in Iceland. I got in about an hour ago.”
“You didn’t have to come, Leo. I’m fine, truly.”
He narrows his eyes at this. “Oh, like Mum was fine?”
I feel that like a pin pushing into my heart. I’d told him not to leave school. Was sure she was going to be okay. Then, when it was clear she wasn’t, I’d delayed making the call to tell him I was wrong. He’d come home after she’d gone.
“Well, now you can see for yourself. I’m fine.”
“Well, no offence, Dad, but you don’t look fine. You look like shit,” he says. “Have they fed you?”
“Yes, some toast and cereal.”
“Shouldn’t you be in a secure hospital? One for VIPs or something.”
“I’m not a VIP here, Leo.”
“Well, don’t you have staff? Is that who he was?” He gestures in the direction of the door.
I can’t do this right now. Not here. I use a diplomatic technique and choose the part of the question I can give an honest answer to.
“I have an aide, Gael. He’ll be here shortly. You didn’t book a hotel, did you?”
“Well, no. Just the flight.”
“When Gael gets here, I’ll ask him to take you to the residence where you can get some rest. How long are you here for?”
“As long as you need me to be.” He sits forward on his knees and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Well, thank you for coming. I’m sorry I scared you.”
He lifts his head to look at me, grey eyes sparkling with emotion. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“How’s work?” I ask.
Some look flits over his face before he shakes his head and shrugs. “Fine.”
It’s said with the sort of tone that discourages any further discussion.
I do worry about how he’s handling things without me there, not that I interfered, as such, but I was able to make sure people were treating him well, looking after him, not overworking him the way they did most other graduates.
Some people would call it nepotism; I call it parenting from the shadows.
I was quite sure he wasn’t happy in politics; Leo wasn’t cut out for the level of backstabbing and often front stabbing required to get ahead in that environment.
He was softer-hearted than most people knew, though he put a very different front out to the world.
But after his accident, he had been rudderless and lost, unsure what his life was going to look like without the sport he’d adored since he was old enough to hold a racquet.
He didn’t have the academic inclination that both myself and his mother had, so following us into law was always out of the question.
I wanted to keep him close after Stella died, so finding him a post in Whitehall had made sense at the time, if only to get him out of bed in the morning.
“Have you spoken to Gran or Grandpa yet?” he asks.
“Yes, this morning.” My mother was a panicked mess, calling to my father to start packing a suitcase while still on the phone.
I’d talked her out of it easily enough. She wasn’t an enthusiastic flyer and was convinced when I told her I was quite alright.
When Leo goes to use the toilet, I lift my phone to find a text from Asher from a few minutes ago.
Zachary:
Do you really want iced tea? Or should I go?
Me:
Best if you head home. I’ll call you later.
Zachary:
will you, though?
Me:
Yes. I promise. Thank you for coming.
Zachary:
Thank you for not dying in my bed. Talk later.
When Gael arrives a short time later, I ask him to take Leo back to the residence and see he has a shower, something to eat, and a rest. Mrs Kennedy comes to visit just after lunch with three cartons of soup she’d made that morning.
When I open the lid, I feel a rush of hunger so intense it feels like coming alive again.
On her round, the doctor tells me that my vitals look well and that she’s happy to release me the following day.
I shower awkwardly in the bathroom of my room, dress in soft pyjama trousers and a T-shirt, and pick up my phone to call my mother as I’d promised.
At the last moment, I dial Asher’s number instead. He answers immediately.
“Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, fine. I wanted to apologise about earlier. I thought having you come back might invite some more questions.”
“It’s no worries. I shouldn’t have sneaked in like that…”
“I’m glad you did.” And I mean it.
He’s silent a moment. “So that’s your son, then?”
“Yes, that’s Leo.”
“He doesn’t really look like you,” Asher remarks. “I mean, I guess he looks like his mom? I wasn’t suggesting… fuck, you know what I mean.”
I chuckle. “I do. He looked very like me as a child. But yes, he’s very much Stella’s son now.” That’s why it is sometimes so hard to look at him.
“So who does he think I am?” he asks carefully.
“It didn’t come up.”
“Phew, okay, good. I’m… yeah, just sorry for putting you in that position.”
“It’s quite alright, no damage done.”
There’s silence for a moment before he says. “So… you think this is nonsense?”
I sigh. “I think… sneaking around with a man half my age is something close to nonsense, yes. With my job, and my life, it’s extremely ill-advised.”
“I get that you think that,” he says. “And I’m not here to force you out of the closet or anything.
But sex and intimacy aren’t nonsense. They’re fucking vital, Christian.
Human connection is vital.” His voice is sterner than I’ve ever heard it, and I feel like I’m being told off.
Clearly, he’d been thinking about this in the hour or so since he’d left.
“It’s actually the thing I miss most about Ohio.
That connection. I live a pretty solitary existence now, and I do like existing alone, but I also value those moments I get to really connect with another human being, you know? ”
“Is that why you do what you do?”
“Porn?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, that. Few things on earth are more intimate than prayer or sex, and I don’t pray anymore. But I also do it because I enjoy it, because I’m good at it, and because it makes me feel great. I like sex. I like being fucked; on camera and off.”
A curl of desire wraps around me. I can imagine him being good at it.
Being very good at it, in fact. And there, right there, is the desire to watch him do this thing he considers as intimate as prayer.
I want to watch his eyes widen and his cheeks flush, his mouth open with need.
I want to see him out of his mind with pleasure, even if it’s not because of me.
“But we’re getting off topic,” he goes on, “this is about you. You clearly like sex, too, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting it with me or with anyone else.”
It sounds so bloody easy when Asher says it.
Asher, who is free to do whatever he wants without a lick of concern for what the world thinks of it.
It’s part of why I’m so attracted to him; this freedom he has—borne from a place of restriction in his youth—the bright, independent nature he has, it’s enticing.
I want to be close to it. Bathe in it. Live in his world.
A world which is very, very different from mine.
A world that knows me as a man grieving his dead wife almost six years after her death.
A man who is still grieving his dead wife almost six years after her death.
My heart still belongs to Stella. It always will.
All these entanglements do is complicate things and hurt people.
I had almost destroyed everything the last time I did this; Felix’s relationship with his father was broken irreparably, my career at Westminster sacrificed, and this time I stood to lose the respect of my son if he found out.
“I’m still in love with my wife, Asher. I always will be.
I won’t ever love anyone the way I loved her.
” I’m not sure what makes me say it, perhaps to see if it will be the thing that finally makes him give this up.
Make him understand why this can’t ever be more than what it has been. Make him realise what it can never be.
He’s silent for a long moment. Then: “Is that it?”
“I… what?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I think that’s beautiful, really, I do. I can tell you still love her a lot: you still wear her ring. I noticed it straight away. It doesn’t bother me.”
This bloody boy. “Surely you understand, then? That I can’t ever give you what you want, Asher.”
“How do you know what I want?” he counters. “Have you ever asked? You’re assuming I want love and monogamy. Maybe what I want is a hot older daddy who fucks me on the regular and doesn’t ask me to give up porn.”
“Is that what you want?”
There’s a moment’s hesitation before he says, sounding very sincere, “Honestly, I don’t know what I want.
I’m twenty-four. I’ve only lived six years, like really lived.
I want to be around you some more: I think you’re hot and smart and you turn me on so fucking bad.
But long-term, I don’t know what I want.
I don’t think much beyond the day in front of me, really.
I tend not to get too deep in my own head about shit, you know.
I’m sort of scared about what’s in there. I just let what happens, happen.”
I’m smiling, imagining the open look on his pretty face. “I’m just… not certain what I can offer you, sweetheart.”
“Can you fuck me on the regular?”
“Well, not for four to six weeks, according to the physician.”
He groans. “It’s going to be a long fucking month.”
I lower my voice and glance over at the door to ensure it’s closed. “Just as well getting fucked on the regular is your occupation.”
“Well, I’ll be wishing it was you every single time.”
I groan a little, my cock twitching with latent interest. “But after that, yes. I can. It would be my pleasure.”
“Then that’s good enough for me, sir.”
“I’ve been all over the world, in many different capacities. I’ve met thousands of people, each with their own unique outlook on the world. But I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Asher Fox,” I say, earnestly.
“Really? I guess I’m one of a kind.”
“Yes, you are.”
??
Gael and Leo come to pick me up from the hospital the following afternoon.
Leo looks well-rested and refreshed, and chatters away easily with Gael.
It’s wonderful to see him, to have him here.
The doctor releases me with a bag of medication I’m to take multiple times daily until further notice, before giving me the same spiel about no intense exercise, i.e.
, cardio and sex. I was lucky this time. Next time, I might not be.
I’ll return for a check-up in ten days. One of the nurses offers me a wheelchair to get to the car, which I decline, despite Leo’s hearty protests, and instead, let him carry my small suitcase to the car and set it in the boot.
He opens the passenger door for me before getting in the back seat and pulling on his seat belt.
We drive in silence out of the hospital underground car park and up into the May sunshine, a bright, glittering day that feels vivid and energetic.
I lower the window and let the breeze rush into the car, inhaling deeply.
I wonder what Asher is doing. Painting, filming, thrifting?
Mrs Kennedy is waiting as we pull into the large garage at the side of the residence, and then I’m practically carried into the house by all three of them.
“This isn’t sustainable,” I grumble as they fuss around me like hens. “I’m really quite alright.”
They ignore that.
“Can you bring that over here, Gael?” asks Leo, pointing at the footstool.
I’m lowered into the armchair as though I’m made of fine china, my legs propped up on the footstool.
Mrs Kennedy appears with a cup of tea, which she sets on the table next to me.
Gael opens a window, Leo fusses with the back of the chair, propping a cushion between my lower back and it.
When I’m sat, they stare down at me anxiously.
I stand. “Alright, well, I’m going to have a nice long shower and then a nap, if that’s alright with everyone.” I turn to lift the teacup, taking a long sip from it. “Perfect, Grace, thank you.”
Mrs Kennedy beams. Leo looks ready to take flight. Gael stares, concernedly.
“Stand down, all of you.”
“What if you need something?”
“Gosh, I don’t know, Leo. Maybe have another heart attack.”
He scowls. “That’s not funny, Dad.”
“No, you’re right, it isn’t. But it’s not going to happen.
” I reach out and settle a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
“I’m so glad you’re here, son. Really. And tomorrow I’ll put you to work if that’s what you want, but right now, I just need a hot shower and a good sleep on a mattress that isn’t rubber-coated.
” I head for the door with my tea, stopping to turn back to them.
“Gael, maybe you can show Leo around? He’s never been to Washington before. ”
“Happy to, sir.”
“Perfect. Well, I’ll see you all at dinner, then. I’d love chicken pie, Grace.”
“Then chicken pie you got, sir.”
“Wonderful.” I exit the living room, leaving all three of them staring after me.