Chapter Thirty-Seven A Cautionary Tale
When he heard the news about Danny’s possible move to Spain Matt asked if they could meet up.
Rather than a bar or a coffee shop, he offered a tour around his new place of work, a mental health hospital in West London where he had recently been transferred and promoted to consultant nurse.
Danny supposed that Matt not only wanted to talk, he also wanted to show another side of his life away from the clubs and parties, to prove that he was a serious person with responsibilities, a man who cared for others and excelled at his work.
That evening Danny told Luis about Matt’s invitation.
Luis thought for a time, aware that Matt might be presenting himself as an alternative.
‘You should go.’
Northwick Park Hospital was a maze of low-rise seventies concrete buildings.
Matt met him at the front gates where they hugged.
The ward was secured with two sets of locked doors, one on the ground floor, the second upstairs at the end of a narrow corridor.
Inside some of the patients sat on chairs, still and sick.
Other patients paced the hall, their agitation so severe it was hard to imagine them ever being at peace.
There were young men with crystal meth-induced psychosis.
There were older men whose psychosis remained a mystery.
Neither Danny nor Matt spoke much inside the ward.
Danny grew self-conscious about the soles of his shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.
After the tour Danny breathed deeply, putting a hand on Matt’s shoulder.
‘How do you cope?’
Matt replied, ‘Sometimes I don’t.’
In Northwick Park, a mosaic of dog-walking lawns and five-a-side football pitches, they found a secluded spot under the branches of a horse chestnut tree.
Danny, knowing hospital canteen food, had made his own sandwiches filled with spiced jackfruit and red cabbage slaw accompanied by two wedges of a home-baked carrot cake.
Delighted by the offering Matt had brought a mauve hospital blanket, which he spread over the grass.
Danny shared the sandwiches and they ate for a time before Matt said, ‘It’s been bothering me.
The idea that you might see my life as a cautionary tale.
A single guy in his late thirties, frittering away his weekends on drugs and dancing, punished for his promiscuity. ’
Danny put a hand on his arm.
‘Matt, that thought has never crossed my mind.’
But Matt continued, ‘I don’t care what most people think about me.
But I care what you think. I’m not going to offer any opinion on whether you should move to Spain with Luis because only you can know.
But I wanted to tell you this: I was in a relationship in my twenties and head over heels in love with the guy.
I would’ve done anything for him. And I did.
He asked if we could stop using protection.
He said it would be more intimate. I agreed.
That’s when I contracted HIV, not when I was single, not when I was sleeping around.
After I tested positive it was like a double diagnosis.
My health and my judge of character. Here’s the worst part.
I stayed with him. For two more years. Because I was terrified of being on my own.
After that relationship ended it was hard to trust anyone.
Every time I went into the clinic to have a check-up I would fill out those questionnaires.
One of the questions is – have you ever agreed to anything in a sexual relationship which made you uncomfortable?
Every visit, I was flagged as at risk from domestic abuse.
That’s how I saw myself – as a weak man, too weak to be in love because the other person would always take advantage.
Danny, I’m not trying to say this isn’t the right move for you.
I don’t know Luis. I just want to make sure that you don’t think of me as a cautionary tale. ’
Danny replied, ‘Matt, I promise, if I move to Spain, one of the hardest challenges will be leaving you behind.’
Content with this answer Matt lay down on the blanket resting his head on Danny’s leg.
Danny ran his fingers through Matt’s hair, curious how the act of intimacy would feel.
Matt closed his eyes. In the distance a group of kids began playing football.
The sounds of their laughter drifted over and for once it didn’t feel like they were laughing at them.