CHAPTER 21 #2
Jeremy looked at the suit. It was a deeply eighties affair – broad shoulders, boxy cut, high-waisted pants.
It was white, or more specifically a thick cream colour – not the kind of colour he’d usually go for, but it would definitely be attention-grabbing.
It might even look good with a T-shirt and sneakers – which was good, because that was all he had.
He got changed in the bathroom, ignoring the incredible mothball and dust scent of the suit.
The pants didn’t fit, but if he could find a belt somewhere, they’d be fine.
Jeremy turned around and decided that he looked very good.
Not as good as he would have in the green suit, but this was fun – and he wanted to look like he was someone having fun.
When he exited, his mum tutted over the fit of the jacket and revealed an old black leather belt that completed the ensemble.
Jeremy gave a spin. ‘What do we think?’
He received a polite round of applause and turned to look at Sam and Anna. Anna had found a delightfully ugly plaid suit, but she seemed to love it.
‘My third husband, Raphael, had a similar body to Sam’s. A sexy little matador man. Yes, a lovely-looking tiny man, just like Sam,’ she mused, tapping her lips with a long nail.
‘Mum!’ Jeremy exclaimed. But he did have to admit Sam looked good. He was wearing a nineties-era collared shirt and a double-breasted jacket in a rich chocolate brown that perfectly matched his hair.
‘You look handsome as hell,’ Jeremy said, enjoying Sam’s pleased blush and placing a hand on his chest, left uncovered and glorious by the cut of the shirt. He leant in for a gentle kiss, feeling this sudden moment of stillness and happiness was worth taking advantage of.
‘If you have enough time for shenanigans, then you have enough time for lunch,’ Maria said. ‘I don’t have any lunch for you, but I’m sure we could order something.’
‘We’ve got to go,’ Sam said, urgency returning as he looked at his watch. Jeremy loved that he wore a watch. ‘Provided we don’t hit any traffic, we’ll only be a little bit late. But we’re pushing it!’
The heist energy was back – they all kissed Maria and fled her house, something she seemed confused by but resigned to. Jeremy often wondered just how much she really understood about his various crises, but perhaps she was just so languid and relaxed that she came across as mildly confused.
Sam drove again, claiming only he could safely navigate his car and still be fast enough to arrive on time, but Jeremy knew he was just scared by Jeremy’s terrible driving.
He didn’t protest, being fully ready to weaponise his own incompetence in this area.
But also, Jeremy was incredibly tense. The first hurdle having been overcome meant this was really happening – and in six long hours they’d be walking into that reunion.
Probably best he didn’t bring that energy to the road.
‘I have said that you guys don’t need to come, right?’ Jeremy asked, leaning in to include Liz, who was now sitting in the front seat, from where he was folded up in the back next to Anna. This had to be the third time he’d offered them an easy ‘out’ of the reunion.
‘No, we’re committed now,’ Liz said. ‘You can’t just put on a thousand-year-old suit and then not take it out on the town.’
‘Yeah, and I feel like we’ve earnt the right to see what happens at this reunion,’ Anna said. ‘Like, we’re there to support you, but we also need closure …’
‘Right, well remember that we’re being dignified. Bigger men. We’re going to rise above Miles and all those jerks who I hate, so no messiness,’ Jeremy reminded them. He had an image of Liz using her illegal taser on Miles while he was trying to eat hors d’oeuvres.
Liz and Anna both nodded. ‘I’ll be so well behaved that they’ll give me an honorary doctorate after this,’ boasted Liz.
‘Actually, do we need tickets or something? Or should we pretend to be creative writing students? I’m going to be someone who only writes poems about how the moon is a giant space nipple on the body of God. ’
‘Ooh. Maybe I write books about horny dragons,’ added Anna.
Hours passed, with Sam allowing for one truck-stop detour, where Jeremy compulsively ate an entire packet of red frogs without tasting them.
As they got closer, he felt like he was putting his hand down a dark hole, sure something awful was waiting in there to snap at him.
Sam kept putting his hand on Jeremy’s leg (Jeremy had returned to the passenger seat after Sam had told Liz she couldn’t smoke up the front) in an attempt to comfort him, but it didn’t work.
Each time Jeremy felt himself about to cancel the whole thing, to tell Sam to turn around, to jump out of the car and run into the bush, the momentum won out.
He was the one who had pushed for this moment for so many months.
Perhaps it was the catharsis he needed – perhaps after this he’d stop being an absolute mess and his life would be perfect.
Maybe he’d get back into pottery classes.
When they got close to the university, it was getting dark.
They’d driven almost all day, and everyone was exhausted and grumpy, even Sam becoming slightly non-verbal, chewing on a chocolate bar like it was his job.
Jeremy hadn’t been back for years, and he was surprised at how the memories of his time studying here came flooding back – the smell of wet leaves and cold trees that surrounded the campus, the ocean glinting in the distance, the university town still looking unchanged and quaint.
Jeremy guided them from memory, occasionally pointing out landmarks: there was the statue of the goose that used to terrorise campus; there was the crumbling share house he’d lived in; there was the bench he’d once found a gun on.
But when they reached the car park, and everyone gratefully got out of the car, groaning and stretching their legs, Jeremy sat frozen in the passenger seat, looking at the lights of the creative writing building glittering nearby.
‘I can’t do it. I can’t do it, Sam,’ he said, feeling utterly defeated.
There was something about seeing the old building that brought back this whole part of his life that he’d tried his best to forget.
It wasn’t so much the betrayal, the break-up – he’d thought of that almost every day since it happened.
It was being reminded of what he’d lost, or more specifically what had been taken from him.
This workshop had been his whole world, the first time he’d ever felt like himself, out of the repressive restraints of high school.
And his friends – good god, he’d lived for them.
The idea of walking back into that felt insurmountable.
He wasn’t strong enough for that, and he wasn’t doing anyone any favours by pretending to be.
‘There’s a place in town that used to do fifty-cent tequila shots. We could go and spend all our money there instead,’ he suggested hopefully.
‘You can do it,’ Sam said gently, ducking his head into the car, kissing him and holding his face in both hands. ‘But you know I’d never force you into any situation you don’t want to be in. Your happiness and your comfort are my top priority.’
‘Thank you,’ Jeremy said, feeling both gratitude and guilt. ‘I don’t regret choosing you for even a second – you know that, right? I honestly don’t know what came over me.’
‘I do. You’re someone who rails against injustice. I’ve seen it. You’ll go out of your way to stand up for people, and to encourage them to stand up. You did it with me, and it was brave and kind, because you knew it wouldn’t make you any friends in the short term.’
‘You give me a lot of motivational speeches,’ Jeremy said.
‘This is going to be a short one. You can either make the choice to stick up for yourself and go in there, give Jeremy from the past the same kind of champion you are for other people, or you can let Miles win again. Your choice. But I think you know what to do. Also – and know that I say this with love – I have driven so far today and it’s made me very uncomfortable and very grumpy, so … please consider that.’
Jeremy nodded, still feeling panicked, but appreciating the sincerity behind Sam’s words.
He looked forward to the point where he didn’t have to burden Sam with the job of being his motivational speaker and hype queen just to get out of bed every day – but then again maybe that’s what a relationship was meant to look like?
Liz stuck her head in as well. ‘I’m not gonna be nice like Sam, and I also don’t think you’re someone who “rails against injustice” – I think you’re a bad bitch who loves drama and this is your moment.
This is something you’ve been working towards your entire adult life, and I will stab my own kidney with a spoon if you even think about missing it. ’
‘I agree,’ chimed in Anna. ‘Don’t be a little dickhead, Jeremy!’
Jeremy sighed, and tried to take all this to heart, tried to understand that this panicked feeling was not a sign he was in real danger, but was the result of years of fear coming to horrible fruition.
He tried to remind himself how lucky he was to have a boyfriend and friends who would support him like this.
Then he was lashing himself with guilt and responsibility, and he just felt small and scared and tired.
As he sat there, paralysed, Anna and Liz muttering to each other, Sam holding his hand, a group of people walked past the car, chatting brightly.
At first, he didn’t recognise them, unable to parse these three adults with the awkward, colourful-haired youths he remembered.
But it was members of the workshop from his year – Bryce, Sanesh and Isabelle – just older and wearing nicer clothes.
Isabelle didn’t have dreads or a nose ring any more, and instead looked like a suburban lawyer.
Making accidental eye contact with them, he instinctively tried on a smile, hoping his eyes weren’t as full of tears as they felt.
Isabelle was the first to clock him, going briefly silent as she walked past the car, her face expressionless, the other two quickly following her.
Then she turned and pasted on a very fake smile, showing a lot of teeth, and waved at him.
‘Oh, hello, Jeremy! What a blast from the past. See you in there. Ta-ta.’
Jeremy did an awkward wave back, and was relieved when they didn’t try to push the conversation.
Fuck her. Fuck Bryce and Sanesh. Fuck Miles and fuck them all, he thought furiously. And, secretly, he included himself in the list of people he was furious at.
Jeremy got out of the car, wiping his eyes and straightening his suit, his lip curled in a sneer as he watched his former friends ascend the steps and enter the building.
He felt himself fizzing with a familiar energy, flushed with something that wasn’t confidence, wasn’t rage, wasn’t some kind of zen peace with everything.
He wasn’t motivated by guilt or injustice or friendship – he was motivated by a deep stream of spite, and it felt amazing.
‘How do I look?’ he asked, trying to smooth the long-drive crinkles from his suit pants.
‘Hot.’ Liz nodded in approval.
‘Absolutely beautiful,’ added Sam.
‘Good,’ said Jeremy. ‘Let’s make a fucking entrance.’