Chapter 18
Alistair
We must make a pretty picture as we weave our way through the streets away from Eastview with Cyril in our midst. At first, he can hardly stand, and we only make any progress at all because Keshav and Wren drag him between them, but the longer we’re out and about, the better he’s doing.
After about two miles, we finally find a place that’s open at this time of night, and he’s been out in the open air long enough to be able to speak.
He drops onto a bench with Wren and Kesh, while James, Ruby, and I sit opposite them. Then he stares past us, out of the window, an apathetic look in his eyes.
The longer I look at Cyril, the more worried I am about him. James seems to feel similar, because there’s a mixture of sympathy, concern, and rage in his expression. After everything that Cyril did to him, Lydia, and Ruby, I can hardly blame him.
“How about you tell us what the fuck you were doing at McCormack’s?” suggests Wren, his voice carefully relaxed once we’ve got our drinks. Still water for Cyril and Coke for everyone else—although I saw the wistful way Kesh and Wren were eyeing the harder stuff.
“Distraction,” is all Cyril says, putting a huge effort into not slurring. He has definitely looked better—his face is red, his hair is lank, and I’d rather not know what the stains are on his white shirt.
“I invited you to my housewarming,” says Wren. “That could have taken your mind off things too.”
Cyril snorts. “Like you meant it.”
“What else d’you think I meant?”
Cyril presses his lips together and looks away.
After a second or two, Wren clears his throat. “I know how you must be doing, mate. And I—”
“You don’t know shit,” Cyril hisses. “You have no fucking idea how it feels to lose everything you even slightly love. How it feels to have only yourself to blame that all your friends hate you.”
Silence. I think we’re all holding our breath.
“We don’t hate you, Cy,” I say quietly in the end.
That just makes Cyril grind his teeth. I haven’t a clue what’s going on inside his head, but I can tell by the flush that’s slowly creeping from his cheeks down his throat that this conversation is seriously hard for him.
“Alistair’s right,” James says. “We were worried about you.”
Cyril looks up and his ice-blue eyes bore through James. “You were the one who said our friendship was over.”
James looks back at him and shrugs. “You fucked up. And I was angry, yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we hate you.”
Cyril laughs bitterly and shakes his head.
His eyes flit to the end of the bench, like he’s considering leaping over Wren and Kesh and running out of the bar as fast as his legs will carry him.
At the same moment, Wren leans forward and leans both arms on the knotty wooden table.
Cyril clenches his teeth together and sinks back again.
He runs his hands over his face and groans quietly.
“I don’t get it, Cy,” I say, glaring at him as he lowers his hands again.
“You were the one who fucked up. You were the one who got Lydia sent away and Ruby suspended. You didn’t even try to speak to us, even once.
You’re just assuming that we hate you. What were you thinking?
You want us to stay mad at you forever?” I shake my head. “Why are you like this?”
“Because I know I screwed up, OK?” Cyril roars, thumping the table so hard that his glass wobbles precariously. “I am perfectly well aware of that. I know that you’ll never forgive me, so why bother?”
I stare wide-eyed at him. His shoulders are rising and falling rapidly. He looks like he did at the party, when James helped him down off the table—like he could burst into tears at any moment, but he’s holding back with everything he has left.
“I don’t know what you guys want from me,” he goes on, more calmly now. “What do you care what I do with my free time?”
“We care because you’re still our friend,” Wren says, his voice steady. “Despite everything.”
I murmur in agreement. Cyril just chews his lip.
“Talk to us,” Kesh suggests calmly. “We don’t even know exactly what happened.”
“Would that change anything?” Cy replies resignedly.
Kesh looks at him side-on with his dark eyes. After a while he raises one shoulder. “It can’t do any harm, can it?”
Cyril stares at the tabletop. He takes a deep breath and then sighs it out. His eyes flit over to Ruby, who is sitting next to James and hasn’t uttered a word in this whole conversation.
“I wanted to go to Lexie and tell him the truth,” he begins eventually, his voice raw. “But then your dad turned up on the doorstep, James. He said that if I tried the smallest thing to help Ruby, it would be war. I…got scared and let him intimidate me because I know what he’s capable of.”
Suddenly, it’s so quiet around the table that you can almost hear the bubbles of carbon dioxide rising up the glasses.
“I didn’t dare go to Lexie, but I knew I had to do something. So I sent the photos to you.” Cyril gulps hard. “And I meant what I told you at the club. I’m really, really sorry.”
The barman comes over and asks if we want anything else. Ruby is the only person to react and say a polite “No, thank you.” We spend a few minutes in silence until I can’t stand it any longer.
“We have to do better than our parents,” I say, my voice cutting through the awkward silence. “That’s what we always said, isn’t it? That we don’t want to turn out like them. Kesh excepted, maybe, because his folks are saints.”
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m sick of this,” James adds.
We turn to face him. “I’ve had enough of seeing us drift apart like this.
And yeah, there are loads of changes coming up, but there’s one thing I’m sure of—you’re all important to me.
I want you in my life. All of you,” he says, looking straight at Cyril.
“We’ve gone through so much together.” Wren nudges Cyril with his shoulder.
“You can’t just ignore stuff, Cy,” says Kesh. “You can’t disappear like that, not turn up at school, and then spend your weekend at McCormack’s getting wasted. OK?”
There’s another minute of quiet. Then Cyril looks up and turns to Ruby.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I wish I could take back the stuff with the photos.”
Ruby presses her lips together and nods abruptly. Her cheeks suddenly look really pale. “It’s…it’s OK, Cyril.”
“It’s not OK, and we both know that,” he replies. “But all the same, I want you to know how much I regret it.”
He and Ruby look at each other, and it’s like there’s a silent conversation going on as she works out whether or not he’s serious.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him apologize so much,” Wren says suddenly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever even heard Cyril utter the word ‘sorry,’ ” Kesh agrees.
Cyril tears his eyes away from Ruby and runs a hand through his hair. Then, like he’s only just thought of it, he punches first Wren and then Kesh on the shoulder. Kesh tries to dodge, almost slipping off the bench. It looks so funny that James and I burst out laughing.
“It’s about time you came back to school,” James tells Cyril.
Half a lifetime passes until finally, Cyril says, “You’re right.”
It’s after three when I call my chauffeur and ask him to pick us up from the pub. First we take Wren, James, and Ruby back to Gormsey, then we drop off Cyril at home. He gets out, but before shutting the car door, he leans down and puts his head back in. He glances from Kesh to me and back again.
“I…” he begins, then clears his throat. “Thanks for tonight, boys.”
“Anytime,” Kesh replies.
“Next time, come and get drunk with us, and not James McCormack,” I say, making Kesh give me a kick in the shin.
“Got it,” mutters Cyril as he turns away. I shut the door and knock on the screen to tell Rupert to drive on.
“Where to, sir?” he asks.
“To Keshav’s, please,” I reply. Moments later, the car starts moving. I lean back and rest my tired head.
“That hurt,” I say, rubbing my shin with my hand.
“Your stupid remark wrecked an emotional moment, mate.” His eyes flick to my leg. “But I didn’t mean to kick you that hard, sorry.”
“I just wanted to lighten the mood a bit,” I reply. “It was a bit of a heavy evening for my tastes.”
Kesh just mumbles. He’s sitting opposite me. Unlike me, he doesn’t feel sick traveling with his back to the road. He can even read in the car, which I can’t even imagine. Just picking a book up makes me want to stick my head out of the window and retch.
Kesh used to laugh at me for getting so carsick and then started experimenting to see exactly what set it off. Now, I know that I can kiss in a car no problem but definitely can’t play games on my phone.
Lucky my body has its priorities straight.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kesh says out of the blue. His voice is deeper than before. He glances from my eyes to my lips, then hastily looks away, like he’s just clocked what he’s doing. He turns his face to the window.
“Look at you like what?” I ask.
The mood tips so suddenly that I’m almost dizzy.
“You looked like you were thinking about the past,” he answers after a while.
I swallow hard. “Isn’t that allowed?”
Kesh makes a sound that’s probably meant to be a laugh but comes out kind of desperate. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
He looks back at me. “Because you shouldn’t cling to memories when you could be creating new ones with me.”
His words take my breath away. I need a moment before I can speak. “Kesh—”
“I told my mum,” he interrupts.
My heart pounds in my chest. All I can see is Kesh. Everything else has faded into the distance. “What?”
“I told her that I’m bi and feel attracted to both men and women.”
My mind is racing. I don’t know what to say first. I cough and opt for the question that seems most important to me right now. “How did she react?”
Kesh exhales all at once. “Not the way I expected. It was really hard, although to be honest, I wasn’t as scared of Mum as of Dad.
At first, she thought I must be really ill or something because I was so nervous and started crying before I even said anything.
So then when I told her, she was relieved it was nothing serious.
Then she apologized and said that was a tactless thing to say. ”
I’m holding my breath as I listen.
“Overall, it was…I dunno. Better than I expected?” It almost sounds like a question.
“That sounds good,” I croak.
Kesh nods and stares at his hands.
Time stretches between us.
“I…You didn’t do that because I made you, did you?” I ask in the end.
He shakes his head, not looking up. “No. I didn’t do it for you, but for me. I wanted to tell Mum because it felt right to.”
I feel the pressure in my chest ease slightly.
“She said she loved me. And I think she must have got some brochures or been researching stuff on the internet, or something, because she now keeps asking me shit that sounds like something out of a textbook. And she gave me another lecture about safe sex.” Kesh grimaces.
“Which was even more cringe than the first time around.”
I snort with laughter. “I love your mum.”
Kesh smiles at his hands. “And I love you.”
The car stops. I think my heart does too.
I stare at Kesh, who lifts his head to look at me—directly. His gaze is open and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen. Now the atmosphere in the car has changed again. It feels like Kesh is too close and too far away all at once. I want to stretch out my hand but can’t move.
“What did you just say?” I whisper.
Keshav gulps hard. “I said I love you, Alistair. I have done for ages. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I don’t.”
His every word touches me deep inside. I’ve been hoping to hear them from him for so long—or even a pale shadow of them.
Now, hearing those words from him is more than I ever imagined.
Tears sting my eyes, and I can’t blink them away.
I can’t do anything about it as they break free and run down my cheeks.
Then things take their own course. My body moves on autopilot as I fling my arms around Kesh. I can hear him gasp for breath but in this second, I don’t care. All that matters is to be as close to him as possible.
“I love you too,” I mumble into his hair.
Kesh puts both hands on my back and hugs me tight. “Cool.”
A hoarse laugh bursts from me while more tears run down my cheeks. I move away slightly so that I can see his face. “That’s how you react? ‘Cool’?”
He lifts a hand and mops my wet cheeks. There’s a smile playing around his lips. “Yeah,” he says simply. It’s such a Kesh thing to say that I have to hug him again, hold him tight. He strokes his hands gently over my back, which isn’t exactly getting my heart to calm down.
“Want to come in?” he asks in the end with an uncertain smile. “I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.”
I pull away and look him in the eyes. “I’d love to.”
Kesh leans forward, and his lips brush mine. It’s the faintest of touches, but I get goose bumps down my arms.
“Cool,” he murmurs again.
Then he kisses me gently.