Chapter Sixteen Sinnerman
My stomach’s in knots as I walk up to Michael’s block of flats.
It looks crazy against the white sky, like it’s a prison or something.
I try to tell myself that’s just my nerves talking.
Of course I don’t want to break up with him.
Who’d want to break up with anybody? Especially if you’re really close to them and even begged them to take you back after they chucked you.
But I keep thinking about Rahul. Daft, awkward, Northern Rahul.
I think about waking up to him kissing me and how I didn’t even care I had morning breath ‘cause it was Rahul after all, and he wouldn’t mind.
I think about him telling me he loved me.
He’d told me already, I know. And I was a right bellend for letting him get away, I know that now.
I’m not letting him get away again. And if I’ve to walk straight into the lion’s den to do it, well then, that’s what I’m gonna do.
I’m Julian Bloody Collier. I do what I want.
I hear the music before I even get to the door.
It’s this pained, dramatic business. I don’t know much about classical music, but this sounds like it was written by a dying bloke who’s just been told his parents were getting a divorce.
I’m not even sure it’s coming from Michael’s flat until I’m right by the door and see it’s ajar.
That’s downright disconcerting, as if the music isn’t.
I push the door open and creep inside, throwing off my coat like I always do.
Michael’s over at his piano, the one I’ve never seen him play before.
That’s weird enough I just come right out and say “You’re playing piano” like an idiot, as if he doesn’t already know he’s playing the bloody piano.
God, Julian, I swear, why can’t you ever make your mouth muscles work right?
But instead of saying anything, his shoulders just rise and fall, shrug-like. He doesn’t even turn round. That’s when I see there’s an empty bottle of whiskey at his feet and a couple of glasses on top of the piano. Now I’m well creeped out. He’s been drinking and it isn’t even one o’ clock yet.
“Are you… are you drunk?” I try not to sound too accusing. I mean, I’ve enjoyed a beverage now and again, God knows. But this is beyond the pale.
“Would it be any business of yours if I was?” He slurs his words, playing some deep, menacing notes on the piano.
I’ve always known him to be a posh, reserved sort. He’d barely drink when we’d go out together. Getting well and truly wasted before it’s even properly afternoon is not the Michael I know. Not in the least. And it’s got me bloody nervous, more so than I already was.
“I just… I never seen you drink so early,” I say sheepishly, pushing my fringe off my forehead just to flatten it back down again. Stupid, nervous habit.
“You have never seen me drink so early,” Michael corrects me, and that just fucking stings, doesn’t it?
I’ve always known he was more posh than me, better educated, but I don’t need him bloody reminding me of it by correcting my grammar.
That’s just petty, that is. And here I was only concerned about him.
Well, fuck me, I guess. And fuck him, too.
I want to say something to him, but I know this isn’t the time. I shouldn’t be the one getting mad at him when I was the one fucking another man last night.
Right. I did a proper bad thing, didn’t I?
I do feel well awful about it. Honest, I do.
Only, it’s hard to feel properly awful when I know I’ve got Rahul waiting for me, all warm and big and strong and ready to wrap me up in his great big arms. Last night really was something else.
This morning, too. I’d been blown away with what it was like being with Michael, but being with Rahul was just…
right. Like it was meant to be. It had been right back when we were kids. Even the first time we’d kissed.
I’d always been curious about guys, but I’d been even more curious about Rahul.
I’d awkwardly suggested we practise kissing when we were young.
Even then I’d felt my heart get all big and my eyes get weepy.
It had felt… well, there’s no other word for it but “right.” You know, like that feeling you get when you fit in the last piece of a puzzle.
“Right.” But we were just messing around.
Rahul was normal. Not like me, a little bender that fancied boys as well as girls.
How could I try to convince him to do it again when he probably wanted to go on kissing just girls like a regular bloke?
So I’d left it and pretended like nothing happened.
Then when I’d gone up to visit him in Leeds…
I’d promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything.
He was my best mate. I didn’t want to ruin everything between us.
But I’d missed him so much. And I’d been having all these feelings about boys.
Once we were pissed, I couldn’t help myself.
I came onto him. And God, it had been glorious.
I’m fuzzy on the details ‘cause I’d been properly pissed, but I remember it being so, so good.
I also remember waking up in the morning with a blinder on, thinking Rahul would never speak to me again.
So I gave my excuses that I’d been drunk and hadn’t been thinking, etcetera-et-fucking-cetera.
He seemed to accept it well enough, only he acted really distant.
I was so ashamed, I cut the whole trip short and went right back home.
I changed my major at school and buried myself in work, which was when Aisling came along.
I fancied her right and hard. She was a knock-out.
Couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she wanted to hang around someone like me.
Then she took off for a while and I didn’t have anybody.
I didn’t have Rahul. I didn’t have Aisling.
I was well lonely. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went looking for Aisling and poured my heart out to her.
Turned out she’d fancied me right back the whole time.
Imagine that! We were together after that and things were good at first.
After uni though, Rahul came back to London.
I told myself I didn’t fancy him anymore, and that I just felt bad for how things ended between us.
Things were awkward for a while -- I’d thought Rahul was probably trying to figure out if I was still a poof or if it’d just been a one-time thing when I’d been pissed.
We got back to normal soon enough, though, and everything seemed all right for a time.
But Aisling and Rahul were always at each other’s throats.
Unfortunately, it was mostly through me.
Aisling was always having a go at me for being mates with Rahul, and Rahul was always going into a sulk and giving me the old silent treatment for dating Aisling.
They couldn’t stand each other, those two.
I thought it was just conflicting personalities or whatever.
But Aisling had the right of it when she said me and Rahul were like an old married couple.
After Michael and me got together and Rahul told me he loved me, I thought he was just pretending so I’d chuck Michael ‘cause he didn’t like him same as he didn’t like Aisling.
I couldn’t believe he really fancied me, not like how I’d fancied him.
That’d be mental. That wasn’t the sort of thing that happened in real life.
That was the sort of thing that happened in films, romantic comedies, My Beautiful Laundrette.
So he went and got himself his own boyfriend, of course.
Who wouldn’t, given the way I’d acted? But I was well jealous when he was with Henri.
I knew I couldn’t let it go on the way it was.
We were both into blokes, but we weren’t getting off with each other?
That was mental. So I made sure we finally got together.
Only, I never thought how that would affect Michael.
He’s always been… what’s that word? Volatile.
Like a volcano about to explode. I could always feel it.
Especially after the double-date night. I was almost scared of him then.
He showed me he could go off at any moment.
Afterwards, I kept waiting for him to explode, always on the edge of my seat, like.
But it didn’t come. That was almost worse, in a way.
I was always waiting for something, always on pins and needles.
Couldn’t relax around the one person I should be able to relax around.
Now, I’ve got to break up with him, and that explosiveness is still there, right under the surface.
I can feel it, even now. He’s faced away from me, but I can feel him vibrating like a beehive.
He didn’t even know I was coming and he’s already in this state.
He’s all worked up, playing piano like some kind of dramatic vampire and drinking in the middle of the day.
I half-feel like leaving and coming back when he’s calmed down some, but then I remember Rahul waiting for me and think about his face looking all disappointed when I tell him I didn’t do it.
All right, Julian. Stiff upper lip. Remember what you were practising on the way over.
Just rip it off like a plaster. It’s gotta get done, yeah?
“I got something --” then I remember Michael’s sharp grammar lesson and amend, “I have something to tell you. I’ve thought it over and, uh, I don’t think it’s gonna work out, you and me.
I don’t think we’re compatible. You know, we’re so different and stuff.
You’re all posh and I’m all, you know, I’m all me and whatever.
I just don’t think it’s a good match. I’m sorry and everything.
I really am. You know, I really did fancy you.
It’s just not right anymore,” I finish lamely, studying the scuffs on my Chelsea boots.