Chapter 25
Peter
My phone had become the enemy, constantly on charge like I’d made the need for battery life a valid excuse. It still rang and made noises, and I was desperate to switch the ringer off, but that would mean seeing those…
Names I didn’t want to see. Also? The one I wanted to see might not be there, and I think that would destroy me more than anything else.
I missed him. Desperately. I wanted him here, in my house, and I wanted him back and I wanted him in my arms and I wanted to kiss him. More than anything else, I just wanted to hear his voice. See him. His smiles. Let my fingers mess up that tousled hair of his.
I needed him back. My pale, messy, fragile and beautiful Oliver. I could barely admit those thoughts to myself but still did. I had to. Else I would completely go mad.
Cal had stayed all week, preventing me from doing what I wanted to do the most. Just lie in bed and forget about everything else. He wouldn’t let me. Instead he forced me out, dragged me down the pub and wouldn’t let me hide from anything.
Not that people recognised me. I was just…a dull, middle-aged man with an over-talkative son who seemed to know everyone and anyone in there.
Then he finally let me back home, and the door slamming shut behind me was an enormous relief.
“Ollie says hi,” he said, putting his phone in my face.
A text. From someone called Ollie. Just a laughing emoji beneath the HI!
I didn’t want to know what that meant.
And my phone was making a racket on the worktop.
“Answer your goddamn phone, Dad,” he said. My son, throwing himself on the sofa. Shoes still on. I didn’t have the energy to tell him off.
The phone. It was still making a racket and I…
“He’s calling you now, will you pick up!” Cal shouted.
“Who?” I said weakly.
“Your goddamn boyfriend.”
The ceiling creaked. Of course it did.
“Mary, it’s not easy!” I shouted to the ridiculous ceiling.
“Mum, he’s an idiot. Make the lights blink if you agree!” Cal shouted.
The lights were steady and bright. It made me laugh. Everything was just…
I picked up my phone before all my bravery left me. I mean. I was once again pushed into a tight virtual corner, and here was the number blinking on my phone.
I didn’t even have it saved. What kind of boyfriend was I?
Boyfriend. Oh for…
“Hello?” I said weakly.
“Hi.” His voice. Oh God help me. His little voice. Small trickles of sunshine. Everywhere.
“Oliver,” I said. Because that was me.
“Peter,” he said back. “It’s been days. You need to actually talk to me.”
“I know.”
“I talk to your sons more than I talk to you. Also? There is football on Saturday. I am required to attend according to Cal. How do you feel about that?”
How did I feel about that? Don’t go to football. Come to me.
“It would be nice to see you,” I said. Weak. In a minute, Mary would kick a saucepan into my head. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit. And? I deserved it.
“Peter,” he whined.
“I want to see you.”
“Better.”
“Oliver.” Now who was whining?
“I went to see my boss today. It went well.”
“That’s good.”
“Not going back yet. Have some other things to sort.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“On Saturday.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
It hurt my head.
“Why are you not here?” My voice was horrible. Desperate. Needy. I needed more than a flying saucepan.
“You want me to come to your haunted house and have you shout at me?”
“I won’t shout.”
“Cal does. He shouts at me all the time.”
And now I was laughing. What was it with me and this man? This…this gorgeous, wonderful mess of a man.
“Oliver. I… Can…”
“You’re going to have to say it out loud, Peter. I’m not a mind-reader. I can’t…”
“You said you were staying here until I fell in love with you.”
“I did.” He sounded unsure. And…
I wasn’t. Not at all.
“You need to choose your words carefully,” Cal called from the sofa.
“Stop listening in!” I shouted.
“See? You’re shouting.” He did just that. In my ear.
I seemed to find my nerve. Ripped the charger out of the wall and went and threw myself on my bed. Let the satisfying click of the door closing behind me soothe my nerves.
“Oliver,” I said. “Babygirl.”
“Oh no, you’re not starting that up again.”
“Why not?” I smiled. “You are. You’re a babygirl. You’re an emotional little babygirl, and I really. I really, really… Oliver, I don’t know what to say. It’s just a bit much, and I’m trying here, I really am. But…”
“But what?” He was smiling. I could hear it in his voice.
“You said I’d fall in love with you.”
“Yes.” Calm.
“I won’t.”
“I think I should be the judge of that.”
“You’re not very good at judging.” I laughed too.
“You’re already in love with me. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Trust him to stab me like that.
I was still dodging saucepans here and hoping I would say the right things.
“Oliver? Can you please come home?” I said.
I actually said it.
“Only if you say the words.”
Bastard.
“Please.”
“Not good enough.”
Oh.
“Oliver? Hi,” I started. Then I cleared my throat.
“I’m Peter. I’m forty-five, and I was married to my wife for a goddamn long time.
I’m also…I think… Oliver, I think you’re the most wonderful person I have met in a long time.
Also…I loved kissing you. I can’t sleep in my bed because you’re not there.
I slept on the sofa last night because I’m so in love with you that everything feels wrong. Is that…enough words?”
“Only if you mean them,” he said quietly.
“Oliver, I’m terribly and really very badly infatuated with you. I want you. I need you here. I can’t be much clearer than that.”
Silence. How I hated the silence. I’d always loved the peace it brought. Now it just made me anxious.
“Oliver?”
“Can you come to me? Come pick me up?”
“I’ll be there,” I replied. Then I hung up. Because yes. He was right.
Enough. It was time to actually say it.
I was in love with him. And now? I had to go and fix everything I hadn’t bothered to fix. Including myself.
“Cal?” I shouted.
“Yes?”
“Where does he live?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
And just like that, he got up off the sofa and grabbed his keys from the worktop. Like he’d planned all of this, when… Perhaps he had. Perhaps I was just a puppet here. A willing one.
He drove me in silence. Me, properly dressed and all. Because I was, after all, a grown-up. And he was the most important thing here. Oliver. Apart from Cal, who was grinning happily in the driving seat.
“We need to get you a car, Dad,” he muttered. “This is ridiculous.”
“I’ve never needed one,” I protested. “The environment…”
“Fuck the environment.” He poked a finger at me, still steering with the other hand. “You’re on a quest here, to get back the man you love. And you have to get your kid to drive you.”
“We live in a modern society, and for the record, that wording is well premature.”
“I doubt it. I mean, look at you. Shirt and tie. What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I was…slightly ridiculous, having thrown some better clothes on. I yanked the tie off.
“He’s a nice guy. I’ve been over a few times now.”
“A few times?” I was not surprised. Cal was Cal.
“He’s got this great flat, penthouse, huge coffee maker and not much else. Like…he’s not happy there, you can tell. All bare. He owns like…one chair.”
Oh, Oliver.
“I love your mum.” I had to say it.
I felt like I had to say it.
“She’s dead, Dad. And you need to go back to work. That is non-negotiable.”
“I know.”
Damn it.
“She’s dead, Dad. Dead. She knew she was dying, and she didn’t want you to do this.
” His hand once again in the air. Circles.
Frustration. I understood it all too well.
“What you ended up doing. She knew you’d sink straight into a dark hole and never love anyone else again.
Because that’s what you do. You love, and when you love, you love deeply. ”
“I do.” I knew that. Could freely admit to it.
“And your marriage wasn’t…always perfect. Mum knew that too.”
I nodded. Lies. So many lies. I’d told them too. Over and over again.
“So don’t fuck this up. Mum wouldn’t want you to. And you know we can do this. We’re all in a good place now. We’re good together. Good with the space. We’ve met Ollie now, and he’s solid. Even Ed says he’s a good lad.”
“He’s…my….”
“He’s your boyfriend, Dad. Maybe more. Maybe less. I hope more. You can say it, you know. Out loud.”
“I know.”
“Then fucking say it!”
“We need to stop shouting!” I shouted. “Oliver hates it. It…” Shit. “Makes him nervous.”
“His stepdad used to threaten to break every bone in his body. I think he struggles with that.”
That put an end to that step forward. I hadn’t known that. How did I not know that?
“He gets triggered easily. I mean, he didn’t exactly say that, but yeah. I can read between the lines. I don’t think he meant to tell me, but it kind of…came out.”
“Which is why I need to talk to him.”
“Don’t shout.”
“I won’t.”
“We’re like, five minutes away. Do you want to ring him and tell him to come down?”
“Can I…” Okay, brain. Work. “I think I need to go up and get him. Just…you know.”
“No shagging.”
“Cal.”
“It’s allowed, you know. You’re a human being. You need sex. I get it, but, like. I don’t want to know. Not…”
“Please stop.”
“No, Dad. Because we’re…”
“Yeah, open and honest. Give me some dignity here.”
“Nope.”
He parked the car outside some frightening building, where you definitely couldn’t park.
“If I have to go round the block, I will. Once. I can’t hang around here forever.”
“We’ll be right down.”
I hoped.
“Dad!” he shouted as I reached the door.
“What?” I was nervous. Mildly irritated. Fear. So much fear.
“You still didn’t say it.”
“Fuck.”
“Say it!” he shouted out that goddamn car window. Smiling.
“He’s my…” Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was wrong with me? I never swore. “He’s my babygirl,” I said. Then I died inside as Cal howled.
“The door code is four four five three.”
Oh. Good to know. He was still laughing out there.
I took the lift. Top floor. His surname was neatly printed on the wall.