Living Alone #2
Flicking through the pages, Luis said that nursing was a great profession.
Judging from his tone he sounded sincere.
This was important to Danny because lots of people looked down on guys being nurses, wondering why they wouldn’t want to be a doctor or a psychiatrist or something more prestigious, by which they often meant more male.
After years of dead-end jobs Danny had decided to change direction.
He had read in a self-help book that happiness was all about connections, personal and societal.
Since he was not a guy with a deep reservoir of self-esteem he hoped this career, while modest in terms of pay, would bolster him in other ways and one day he would become one of those nurses who would hold a patient’s hand no matter who they were or how sick they might be.
Luis didn’t have much to say about his work other than he was a lawyer. Danny guessed, ‘You came here from work?’
Luis nodded and without stopping to consider, Danny followed with, ‘You’re not out? Are you? I mean – to them?’
Surprised by the directness, Luis shook his head.
‘No.’
Changing the subject, Danny admitted, ‘I talk too much.’
Luis ventured, ‘I don’t talk enough.’
Danny said, ‘Would you like another beer?’
Danny couldn’t afford any more drinks since he had no cash left. But he had his bank card and an interest-free student overdraft and Luis was worth it.
‘Isn’t this bar closing soon?’
Danny’s face fell at the inevitable rejection he had been waiting for. Luis added, ‘We could have a drink at my place.’
Outside Luis flagged down a black cab, an unaffordable luxury for Danny who fell silent contemplating the cost of the night.
A minicab, a black cab and two Irish coffees.
But Luis wouldn’t hear of splitting the fare, explaining that he would have caught the cab home anyway.
He lived alone in a rented apartment on the top floor of an old biscuit factory in East London that had escaped the bombing during the Blitz.
In contrast to Danny’s room Luis’s apartment enjoyed sweeping views stretching from St Paul’s Cathedral to the BT Tower.
The interior was so spacious that it was easy to imagine big whirring biscuit machines where there was now a sleek Japanese-style low bed.
Instead of a wardrobe there was a stainless-steel clothes rail lined with Luis’s immaculate suits.
Luis apologized for the apartment being so cold.
‘It was summer when I rented the place.’
There was not a single plant or item of decoration, no photos or pictures, no personalization of any kind.
Everything was functional except for an antique silver necklace, with a small crucifix, on the bedside table beside the books he was reading about Winston Churchill.
Catching Danny’s curiosity, Luis explained that the books were so he could share the same references as his colleagues.
Danny asked, ‘Are you good at fitting in?’
Becoming accustomed to the weird questions, Luis replied with a smile.
In the kitchen Danny assessed the limited beverage options. There were bottles of Spanish red wine and Scottish whisky. He checked the fridge and found two lemons and a jar of honey in the larder. He asked Luis, ‘Have you heard of a drink called a hot toddy?’
Luis shook his head, repeating the odd-sounding name and asking what it was.
‘It’s Scottish, I think. Or maybe it’s Irish. Anyway, it’s hot water, lemon, honey and whisky. It’s the perfect winter drink.’
Luis seemed concerned.
‘Is this apartment so cold?’
Danny shook his head.
‘They’re fun to make.’
Clattering around in the kitchen Danny produced two hot toddies, strong, not too sweet and decorated with a slice of lemon.
And he was right, they were fun to make.
Tasting one for the first time, Luis said he liked it very much and they took the drinks into the living room where they stood side by side at the windows looking out over the view.
Danny pointed at the spotlit dome of St Paul’s and for the sake of saying something declared, ‘My favourite building in the world. But I haven’t travelled much. ’
Danny suddenly felt small. Covering his insecurities he said, ‘Have you been to the top?’
Luis shook his head.
‘I didn’t know you could.’
Speaking without thinking, Danny suggested, ‘We should go.’
Too late he realized his mistake, revealing how keen he was. Cool and aloof were the only ways to play it. This was why he was perennially single, he scolded himself, hastening the conversation on.
‘I always wondered why they’ve never filmed an action scene there. A Hitchcock finale. With the villain sliding down the dome to his death.’
Danny finished his drink, still kicking himself for suggesting that they could go on a second date. But before he could say anything else Luis took the glass from Danny’s hand, placed it on the floor and kissed him.
Afterwards they lay together in the bed holding each other tightly because the apartment really was very cold.
The sex had been good. Luis was in great shape, gym fit and by every traditional definition a heartthrob.
When Luis excused himself to go to the bathroom Danny wondered if that was his cue to leave.
He decided to take a chance and stay exactly where he was.
Minutes later Luis returned, slipping back into the bed and putting his arms around Danny.
It was so simple and lovely Danny almost cried. Luis asked, ‘Anything you need?’
Just this, Danny thought.
Luis was a deep sleeper. He didn’t move and he didn’t make a sound, an ideal partner in bed, Danny concluded.
Maybe his body was a little warm but it was a freezing night so that was great for winter.
It might be an issue in the summer, Danny continued before smiling at his own stupidity, imagining a summer together before there had even been a tomorrow.
He was enjoying the night too much to waste it on sleep but eventually he must have nodded off because when he opened his eyes he saw the night sky turning a bruised shade of blue.
Very carefully he lifted Luis’s arm and sneaked out of bed, collecting the glasses from the floor and heading into the kitchen where he washed up and wiped down the surfaces.
He tidied away the honey, the spoons and the saucepan he had used to heat the water and whisky.
He cleaned until the kitchen was spotless. As he was finishing Luis walked in.
‘You didn’t need to do that.’
Danny shrugged.
‘I didn’t want to leave a mess.’
That wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered, by a sticky spoon and the remains of a squeezed lemon.
Luis fell silent and Danny knew he was weighing up whether to suggest that they should meet again.
Why would he? Danny wondered. A man as handsome and successful as Luis could walk into any bar and find someone exciting and new.
Danny wasn’t going to get down about it.
If Luis didn’t want a second date Danny would be grateful for their perfect night together.
He had already devised a solution to avoid any awkwardness.
‘I’ve written down my phone number, so you have it. In case you want to call. No pressure. Up to you. And it doesn’t have to be at the top of St Paul’s. It could be in a pub. Or a park.’
A park? What was he talking about? Luis picked up the slip of paper, looking at the number. He didn’t offer his own. There’s your answer, Danny thought. He left the kitchen, fetching his clothes and changing quickly.
Danny was ready to leave when Luis joined him.
‘This might sound odd.’
Danny tried to reassure him, ‘Odd is fine.’
For the first time since they had met, Luis became bashful.
‘Would you like to go to a wedding with me?’
The entire evening Luis had been so composed – sane and steady. Then, at six in the morning, he had invited Danny to a wedding. It was even more crazy than suggesting a second date to the top of St Paul’s Cathedral. Danny was delighted.
‘Sure, Luis. I’d love to go to a wedding with you.’
As an afterthought Danny added, ‘Who’s getting married?’