CHAPTER 22
Bradford
It’s time to face the music. The last several days have been a haven for me. My memory is still patchy, I’ve had headaches, and I’ve slept a lot. It’s been a blessing to spend every night with Bruno. He’s held me constantly, treated me so well. And we’ve hardly been able to keep our hands off each other. The orgasms have been astronomical. However, Valentina and the others arrived back home last night, and they definitely don’t need me hanging around like a bad smell.
While I may be feeling stronger every day, there's no way I’d be able to face going back to my apartment alone. Bruno has insisted on coming and staying with me. For once in my life, I’m going to push my guilt aside and be totally selfish. I want him there. I want his warm body, his hugs, his love.
“You know this is dangerous for you,” I tell him as he loads his bags in the back of the Kingswood.
“What do you mean? What’s dangerous?” He slides into the front with me and sticks the key in the ignition.
“You coming to my place. I might not ever let you leave.”
“Who says that’s a bad thing?” He reaches over and brushes his fingers through my hair. “You seem to be getting around a little bit easier these last couple of days.”
“Yeah. I think I might be getting some improvement in my eye. Maybe the swelling’s going down in the cornea. Everything’s still a total haze, but I think it’s not quite as bad as it was. It’s just…” I let out a long sigh. “I’ve had this kind of thing happen before. The eye gets better, then it goes south again within a few months. So, I’m not out of the woods just yet.”
I hate sounding negative. This is a good sign, a positive step. I need to allow myself to believe it. And Bruno is entitled to a lot more from me than constant drama. Adopting a brighter tone, I try for another subject. “How did everything go last night? Sorry I took off to bed early. Everyone was so nice to me, but I knew you all had a lot to catch up on.”
Bruno smiles as he pulls up to the lights at Anzac Parade. “Don’t ever think you’re not welcome, Blinky . And don’t underestimate how grateful they all are to you. Oh, and speaking of that, Claudio dropped this off.” He reaches back and hands me a paper bag. Inside is a couple of folded pieces of paper with a box underneath.
Pulling out the paper first, I see it’s a note that’s been considerately scrawled in huge letters with thick black Sharpie.
“Mate, we will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for our family, but here’s a start. Claudio, Gabriela and the boys.”
The box has the familiar Samsung logo on it with a picture of a big-arsed phone. It must have been bloody expensive.
“Claudio tells me you’re not to worry about the cost. He has friends in all the right places.” Bruno glances over at me as he talks and I can hear the grin in his tone.
“Wow, this is amazing. I was dreading to think how much I’d have to fork out for a new one. It’s so nice of them.”
“Bradford,” he says firmly, “you deserve it. And those boys think the sun shines out of your arse. So does mum.”
I can’t help smiling at Bruno’s eloquent assessment. “How’s she shaping up right now? I didn’t want to look like I was prying, so I kind of, you know...”
Bruno chuckles at my awkwardness. “She's OK. Doing as well as can be expected.”
“I really shouldn’t be taking you away from her, Bruno.”
“Nah, Don’t worry about her. Gab and I will still be dropping in there all the time. Plus she has enough funding in her My Aged Care package for a lot more services. She knows she’ll need to accept proper help if she’s gonna stay at home on her own.” He reaches across and slides his hand between my legs, squeezing my cock. “Anyway, how could I resist coming and staying with such a sexy man?”
The apartment is spotless when Bruno leads me through it. I walk around everywhere squinting hard, trying to get a close look at it all. The stench of debauchery is gone, there are flowers on the coffee table, and Jarrod’s bedroom is completely empty. I’m absolutely gobsmacked. I thought I’d have another horrible panic attack, but it’s like a different world now his presence has been banished. “I can’t believe you guys did all this for me.”
“You can thank Summer when she gets here. She’s the one who did most of it.” Bruno pulls me into his arms, reaching down and groping my arse. With a tilt of my head, I take his nipple in my mouth through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “God,” Bruno groans. “It's wonderful being completely free to touch each other like this.”
“I’m allowed to love you now.” My statement is simple, but the emotional rush packs a huge wallop. I look up at Bruno, who’s staring at me with a fondness that makes me want to cry.
“Yes, baby. We’re legit. It’s all you and me from here on.” He leans down towards me to kiss. It’s always his moustache I feel first. It’s a sensual, masculine blanket that merges with my own split seconds before his full lips touch my mouth. Bruno doesn’t pissfart around. He moans instantly as he presses against me, his wide, soft tongue surging straight inside. We’re like a Ferrari in this respect—nought to a hundred in no time at all. I desperately have to taste as much of him as I can. Every time we do this, my tongue fights with his, roaming wildly through his mouth, searching frantically, swallowing over and over. And every time it only gets better. It's not just a reminder of the intense passion I’ve felt with all our previous kisses, it’s a brand new discovery. Each time, we reach a new plane and it’s higher than before. My moans become more desperate. My hands clutch at the back of his head. My beard grinds against his. My nose breathes him in. His scent, his wonderful scent, that blissful, intangible gift that I gorge myself on, no matter what part of his body I’m lucky enough to bury my face against. This man that I love so much it makes me want to bawl, to clutch onto as hard as I can lest he slips away from me. I need him with every part of my ravaged being. He is my life. My fucking life.
The doorbell rings and I’m almost glad. I’m so close to coming undone in Bruno’s arms that it rattles me. If I expose myself this much, if I lay myself bare and raw and bleeding, will I lose who I am? Can I thrust myself upon him completely, cracks and all? Would that even be fair to him?
Bruno doesn’t run off to answer the door straight away. For a few seconds, he stares at me, his brow knitted with intensity, his eyes shining. His heart is trying to say something to me and I urgently have to know what it is. Anything, my beautiful man. Anything your precious soul needs, I’ll give it.
When Bruno’s down the hall letting in our visitor, it’s not Summer’s voice I hear. “Hi, darl. You left all this stuff behind. Thought I’d drop it over.” Brie’s unmistakable tone projects through the apartment. He saunters in carrying an armload of items. “Oh, darl !” he gasps, quickening his pace as he approaches me. He tilts his head from side to side, surveying my face. I feel queasy. Like I should apologise for my grotesque appearance. “Jesus, look at you. That fucking trail of cat sick…”
Mercifully, he leaves it at that. He hoists up his delivery and I notice it’s a pile of jumpers and jackets. “Looks nice and spacious in there,” he says, nodding towards Jarrod’s old bedroom and swanning off in that direction. “I’ll hang Bru’s fashion disasters in the wardrobe.”
“Disasters? Ha! I could tell Bradford a story or two about your style fuckups over the last twenty years.” Bruno ambles into the room behind Brie, and I hear the clink of hangers against metal. “Thanks for doing this. You didn’t have to bring it all over.”
“Well, you never know,” sing-songs Brie. “You might need them.” It’s a loaded response and I hear him pause for dramatic effect. “Anyway, I wanted an excuse to come pay my respects to Bradford.”
I’ve slunk into the room and I’m now staring at the empty four walls, the rejuvenated carpet. It’s odd; nothing like I expected. There’s a nice scent everywhere. A calming one. The place doesn’t rattle me or even remind me of Jarrod’s sinister presence. It’s like all traces of him have been exorcised. All around me it smells like… like new beginnings.
“Speaking of Bradford,” Brie continues, “come put the jug on, I have news.”
I can’t believe I’ve forgotten my manners. Jumping to it, I scuttle into the kitchen. It looks spotless, and my eagle-eyed Occupational Therapist of a sister has put everything back in its exact spot. I can’t really see the items, they’re just blobs, but there’s enough detail to feel around and grab what I need. Bruno’s next to me, fussing around with the coffee percolator at the stove. “Are you sure you’re OK here?” His warm hand slides on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I can manage. I have this” — I hold up the little device that beeps when a cup is full — “and this.” Grabbing the handle of the Uccello kettle, I demonstrate how it sits in its cradle and tilts to pour water.
“Is that what it does? I thought it was just some cordless kettle in a weird holder.”
“Hurry the hell up with the tea, Martha Stewart,” calls Brie from the dining area. “I’m dying to spill it out here.”
At the table, Bruno and I sit opposite Brie, who slaps his splayed hands on the surface with a theatrical flourish. “So, Bradford… I got a call from one of Jarrod’s cronies. It appears your ex got himself into a fight when he went out last night and ended up more than a little worse for wear.”
“Jesus. How bad is he?” I inject my response with the requisite amount of concern, but I'm hardly shocked.
“Oh, you know. Black eyes, bruises, broken rib or two. He’s been banged up pretty good, but apparently he’ll be fine.”
“Do they know who did it?”
“Oh, darl. ” Brie swishes his hand dismissively. “With the amount of people he’s been pissing off lately, it could be anyone.”
The doorbell sounds, and Bruno stands up. “Well, it was only a matter of time.” The tone of his voice is dark. Ominous. “Bad things happen to bad people.”
While Bruno strides down the hall, foggy recent memories resurface.
“Want us to take care of him?”
Claudio’s words ring through my ears, immediately followed by the terrifying memory of Brendan in distress. Oh, God, my beautiful boy. That gentle loving creature who would never hurt a soul. You know what? I’m just gonna count my blessings here. I will never, ever mention a word of this to anyone.
Summer bursts into the living room just as I’m standing up. Her arms are instantly flung around my neck and she squeezes tight. “Welcome back home, Braddy.”
I feel like whatever I say is going to be grossly inadequate here. “All this stuff you’ve done for me, Summer. The hospital, this apartment… how the hell can I ever thank you enough?”
“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll be on uncle duties all the time once this is over.”
“Oh, are the girls with you?”
“Not this morning, darl. They’re out skating with cousin Oscar and Uncle Dominic.” She looks at me for a moment, rubbing my arm. “I didn’t want to bombard you too much. We’ll bring them over next week. Promise.”
I’m cringing at my stupidity. Of course she doesn't want to scare the poor things with the way I look right now. As usual, she’s being discreet and I appreciate her all the more for it.
Summer looks across to the master bedroom. “Oh, I did a bit of a cleansing ritual in there. Hope you don’t mind. Even after that pigsty was all spick and span there was so much bad energy left behind.”
Man, I love my sister. “It worked, Summer. I could feel it straight away. Like a rebirth. The whole place was so tranquil.” I give her a huge kiss on the cheek. “I really need to learn more about all of this from you.”
A hand lands on my shoulder. I’ve been paying no attention to the voices talking behind me. “Hey, Brad. Good to see you.” Nathan spins me around and his arms circle me in a tight manly grip, his hand slapping my back. The smell of his body makes me almost jump out of my skin.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh, God. ” The horror in my voice can’t even be masked as shards of memories rush back to me. “Did I—” Yes, I did. I whimper as I dig my hands into my face. “I’m so sorry.”
Nathan and Summer are laughing like mad, and it only gets worse when a puzzled Bruno chimes in. “What’s so funny?”
Nathan takes a breath out of his tirade. “Let’s just say Bradford is a pit man.”
There’s a guy hovering silently behind Nathan. A bushy-bearded burly bear with long shoulder-length hair. I give him a tentative smile. I really should introduce myself, but I’m now all too aware of the angry scar on my left cheek. The complete redness in my left eye. The residual marks. The shaved patches and surgical wounds on the back of my head. My shame is right there in all its glory.
“Oh—Bradford, this is my big bro, Ryan,” says Nathan.
I go to shake Ryan’s hand, but he steadily pulls me into a warm hug. I’d normally feel awkward doing this unless it’s someone I know really well. But Ryan is strong. Cuddly. Masculine. Safe. He doesn’t say anything. He just rubs my shoulder blade as our hug ends, then smiles at me.
This quiet act seems to be Ryan’s jam. He sits and observes everyone’s raucous discussion as we have morning tea, only speaking when spoken to. His voice is gruff but unassuming. At one stage after we’ve finished gorging ourselves on cake, he taps me on the shoulder. “Is there anywhere I can go and have a cigarette?”
“Sure. I'll show you my old smoking area.” I lead him down the hall and through the laundry to the back door.
“Wow, you have a yard?” Ryan follows me out onto the cracked concrete pavement.
“Well, I pretend it’s mine. Most people only come out here to hang up their washing.” I wave over towards the row of Hills Hoists as we take a seat in my plastic chairs.
Ryan pulls something out of his pocket and I spot the familiar sight of a cigarette being rolled. “You gave up?” he says.
“Yeah. About two years ago now.”
He smokes without saying a word. I’m enjoying the calm. It’s a surprise when I hear him speak again. “I’m gonna say something,” he starts. “But it’s really hard for me, so I want you to hear me out.”
This does not sound good. Alarm bells are blaring in my head, but there’s something about the earnestness in Ryan’s tone that tells me I need to listen closely. Slowly, I nod.
“Um… I was assaulted too. It was different from what happened to you.” He stops for a moment, taking a huge drag on his rollie. “At first, I wasn’t ever gonna tell anyone about it, but I have a good friend who saw right through me.” I see him stub his cigarette out, then watch as he begins to fidget with his hands in front of him. “I go to this, um, LGBT support group every second Thursday. Will you… come with me?”
Fear rises into my throat. Every muscle in my body is itching to run away and hide. The thought of being surrounded by strangers, of baring my soul, of being judged… I can feel the nausea starting already. But Ryan is looking at me intently. His brow is furrowed in the middle. The very essence of me can’t bear to disappoint him. “Um, thanks. I guess so.” Even as I say those words, I’m wincing inside. I’m doing it to please him—a man I don’t even know—but part of me is aware that I’ve given the right answer.
***
When Thursday rolls around, Ryan comes to pick me up in a big old ute. I’d told him that I could get there myself and I didn’t want him going out of his way, but he’d insisted. The subtext was clear—he was doing his bit to make sure I didn’t squirm out of it.
I like the way he doesn’t talk much. It means there’s no obligation to engage in any sort of polite conversation, and I’m more grateful for this than I realise. Music is playing away on his car stereo, the kind of Aussie pub rock from when I was a kid. I wonder how old Ryan is. I know he’s older than Summer and Nathan, but he’d definitely be quite a bit younger than me. It doesn’t seem like the right time to ask.
We park in a back street somewhere in Newtown and I follow Ryan with my cane. The pavements are narrow and it’s dark, but I focus on the back of him. He leads me into some kind of hall. It’s an open place with a wooden floor and a circle of chairs. People are milling around at the side near some tables. I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I am immensely relieved when Ryan bypasses the social chit-chat and ushers me straight over to sit down.
Channelling my opera technique, I breathe deep and low into my pelvic floor while the counsellor introduces the session. It seems to help straight away. Person after person tells their story. Some of them sound truly damaged. Some of them sound like professional victims. I know it’s a front—we all do what we can to cope. Overall, I’m amazed at the similarities. These people are me.
By the time it’s my turn, I have somehow developed a steely resolve. Words come out of me as if someone else is doing the talking. There’s another Bradford in my body and he’s taken over. I’m almost intrigued by my story. How Jarrod loved me at the start. How I loved him back even more, including his temperamental ways. How his fiery personality eventually turned itself onto me. How desperately I wanted things back the way they were. The drifting apart, the nastiness, the way he beat me down till I thought I was nothing but a piece of shit. Out spew the tawdry details, all the way to the bitter end—the end that is painfully visible all over my face. I’m almost rocked by how raw I must look to these strangers: the physical marks that demonstrate I’ve only just made it through. These are not memories, they’re aftershocks that are still ringing in my ears.
I feel a visceral sense of relief—no, of pride —that I’ve made it through my retelling unscathed. It’s helped that I can’t see anything but vague human forms around me. I can’t see their faces, their reactions. The visual anonymity of this is a blessing.
I’m snapped out of it by Ryan’s gruff voice. He starts slowly, talking about the sudden and unexpected split with his partner at the time. The way he’d walked around in a daze for ages until a friend intervened. The way she’d mistaken his silent shock and heartache for a simple case of post-breakup blues. The way she’d encouraged him to get over it by going out for some casual fun. My morbid fascination turns to horror as he talks about his visit to a sauna. The trepidation he felt, the way he was just about to turn and flee when some big muscled man jostled him into a room. The way he’d thought the man wanted rough sex, but it quickly spiralled into something much more sinister. The way this man humiliated him, degraded him, beat and bashed him over and over, then repeatedly raped him into a bench. The way Ryan lay there and silently took it all because he hated himself so much he truly believed he had it coming.
I can barely breathe. This man—this lovely, quiet man—he did nothing to deserve this. Nothing. What happened with Jarrod was my fault. My fault. I could have got rid of him at any stage. I saw the signs. All of them. And I chose to ignore them. I was spineless. Gutless.
A massive cry erupts from me. I’m mortified beyond belief. I’m trying to choke it up, but a hand grabs mine and squeezes. Hard.
What? He’s trying to console me? ME? After what he’s been through?
I’m no longer in my body. I’m possessed. Sobs are ripping their way out from deep within my guts. They’re ugly. The pitch goes higher and higher. I am no longer a man. I’m an embarrassing, screaming queen. A shrieking child. The pain is so searingly intense that I’m doubled over. It’s so far down inside me that I can’t even expel it. I can feel myself shaking violently, but I’m powerless to stop it.
Arms are suddenly around me. Somehow I’m on my feet, leaning against Ryan’s sturdy frame. He’s whisking me away somewhere through a door. Then I’m on a chair, writhing in agony as my body betrays me, strips me of any shred of dignity I might have had left. His hand gently rubs my back. Round and round. Firm and constant. Something about it hypnotises me. My terror is gradually ebbing away. Bit by bit, I’m grinding to a steady halt. I’m empty. I can hear the booming resonance in my head. There’s nothing left. All gone.
It’s a while before I can bring myself to sit up. Crushing shame sweeps right through me. I’m trying to speak. “I… I… I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”
Ryan doesn’t say anything straight away. He waits a moment till he hears my breathing even out. “We’ve all been there, mate. All of us. Including me.”
It’s dark out here. Ryan’s fiddling round. He reaches over to me, putting something in my hand. It’s a cigarette. I don’t even think about it as I place it between my lips and he lights it. For some reason, it seems like the best thing right now. I sit there and concentrate on smoking. In and out. In and out. The headspin is helping.
When I’m finished, I spend a moment taking in my surroundings. I’m on a dodgy plastic chair in some kind of ramshackle courtyard. I can hear the traffic all around. The sound of people on footpaths. The noises of a dirty urban environment. Somehow, though, it’s serene. Life is going on out there.
“I don’t wanna push my luck, mate,” says Ryan. “But I really think you should take this.” He places something in my hand. It’s a small card. “They’re a counselling service I used to go to a lot. It won’t cost you out of pocket. The one-on-one thing really helped.” He slides his arm across my shoulders and hugs me tight. I lean into his embrace. It’s so comforting. He’s a big bear. Not as tall as Bruno; a slightly smaller version. His sincerity shines through in every move he makes. Once upon a time, long before Bruno, I might have fallen in love with this man. Tortured and unrequited love. The thought is so amusing, I even smile. Shut the hell up, Bradford.