Is there anything more repulsive than people eating crisps on trains? I watch a businessman shovel greasy pawfuls of salt and vinegar Tyrrells into his gob, crumbs raining down on to his moobs. They reek, too, and he’s on his second gin-in-a-tin. He’s watching Mad Men on an iPad and looks like he’s hankering to go back to the good old days when you could smoke in the office and slap women on the arse as they walk by.
I’ve got that ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ song stuck in my head on loop even though, technically, I’m not. It’s Christmas Eve Eve Eve and the train is packed. I had to ask Crisp Man to move his briefcase off my seat and he wasn’t happy about it. I asked if his briefcase had bought its own ticket. He didn’t like that either.
Never mind crisps, I’m too nervous to eat. I can’t even stomach a cup of tea.
I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and try to focus on my essay. Something about ethics in psychology. The Milgram Experiment and Skinner and all that. I’m still not sure about psychology. One semester in and it’s not the Criminal Minds stuff I thought it would be. I’ve already asked, and I can switch to criminology before second year if I want to without having to start over.
A new thought butts in: This could be the last time I sit on a train to Newcastle.
My heart is proper achy.
As if he can sense me having a wobble, my phone lights up and it’s Ade. I swipe into the message.
Hi McSexface! You don’t have to do anything if it doesn’t feel right x
I want to, I reply. And I do. Well, I don’t, but I have to, like.
The crazy thing is, all I have to do is think about Ade and it chills me out. I think about him making up a little song this morning called ‘You Have to Get In the Shower Now Or You’ll Be Late But You Should Definitely Make Me a Cup of Tea First’, and singing it in my ear as we were squidged like sardines in his single bed. I smile to myself.
We usually sleep at his halls, as my cell is right next to the lift and it clanks and whirrs all night. His always smells of pot, but at least it’s quiet and warm. He’s in the posh halls, I’m in the povo ones.
I so wish he were with me for our first Christmas together. We’ve barely spent a night apart since Halloween and my big bed at home is gonna be bloody Baltic without him in it.
Although it will be quite nice to kick my legs around.
This is why I’m doing it. This is why I have to tell her – because then, the next time I come home, I can bring Ade with me.
My stomach gurgles again. I picture green, toxic, nervous gunk churning around inside me. I remember a few years back when we had Hollyoaks on at home and John Paul tashed on with Ste, and Mam was like, “Ooh do we have to see that while we’re eating our tea?”. It was steak and kidney pie, mash and mushy peas. I still remember.
At the time, I was jealous of Ste, I just didn’t know it. It was like someone trying to explain a rhino to someone who’s never seen one. It didn’t make a lot of sense. I hadn’t joined the dots.
I’m a good-looking lad (not to mention very humble). I’m told I’m the spit of my dad and that’s probably why Mam sometimes looks like she wants to knock me teeth out. I don’t remember him, if I’m honest. Girls loved me at school. I was called Hunky Dunc – and didn’t I just love that.
I loved girls… Well, girl, singular. Me and Ellie were together since Year 11 and I thought I was proper in love with her. Well, I was, just not the same kind of love I’m falling into now. It’s what you do, isn’t it? I was on the football team, had all my own teeth and a four-pack if not a six-pack. I’m a tidy specimen. Everyone else was tashing on with girls, so I did, too.
Maybe I’m, like, bi or something, because when I had sex with Ellie it wasn’t repulsive or anything. It was nice. But it was nice like eating cornflakes. These days I’m strictly on Coco Pops. Shit, is that racist? Ade’s skin is actually the colour of Coco Pops milk now I think about it. Balls, I just meant I’m now on a superior breakfast cereal, which Coco Pops clearly is.
Ade wasn’t the first guy I mucked about with either.
Fernando.
OK, I don’t actually know if his name was Fernando, that’s just what I’ve christened him. In the Easter holidays of Year 12, a few of us decided to have a lads’ holiday to Kavos. It was mint. Gaz got so sunburnt on the first day, he had to lurk in the shadows like a mardy vampire for the rest of the week. Every night we went out, had a skinful and got slaughtered; slept till eleven or twelve and then hit the beach.
Near the end of the week, we was on the beach. The sun was starting to set and it wasn’t quite so roasting. I was cooling off in the sea on my own when I first saw him. He had a cracking body – just wearing a pair of turquoise Speedos – proper six-pack and tattoos. Definitely foreign … lush olive skin. Maybe I’ve got a type.
He clocked us and sorta gave us a nod. I just looked away and dived under the water. I swam it off. How did he know? Did I look too long or something?
A bit later I went for a cheeky piss in the beach bar. He was standing by the little ice-cream kiosk thing. He pulled down his Ray-Bans an inch to look me in the eye. Faggot, I thought, and scowled at him. But when I came out of the lavs, he’d moved down the path towards the sand dunes you have to walk through to get to the beach. They were covered with shrubs and trees, winding up into the hillside away from the beach.
Fernando made sure I’d seen him and then vanished off the path and into the trees. My heart was all the way up in my throat. I was more awake than I’d ever, ever been. I knew what he was up to. My head was telling me to go back to my towel, but my feet – and my schlong, if I’m honest – told me to follow him. And so I did. I literally strayed from the path and followed him into the sand dunes, my Havaianas filling with sand every step of the way.
He was tucked away in a little clearing between some trees. He’s probably a murderer, a little voice kept saying, but I swear I could feel adrenaline pounding through my body.
We never said a word. He just yanked my board shorts down and got on with it.
When it was all over, and Fernando walked away without a goodbye, everything felt very real. It didn’t feel like porn any more, it felt grainy and shit. I puked in the sand. I went back to the lads and said I had a headache. I had to get in the shower and get him off me.
The funny thing is, although I knew I shouldn’t have done it and it scared the crap out of me, every time I thought about it, for months after, I got a lob on. I watched a bit of bi porn and stuff. You know what? Sooner or later I think I knew I’d need that high again.
Bing bong. The train announcer says we’re pulling into York station. Shit. That means we’ve only got Darlington and Newcastle to go. My mouth is dry as Ghandi’s flip-flop. I feel rank. Is it peppermint tea that’s meant to be good for your stomach? I text Ade to ask. He knows about tea and stuff like that. He can make food that’s not from frozen. Maybe I’ll get a cup of that.
Me and Ellie were totally mature and grown-up like and decided to call it a day before we went away. It was sad as fuck. She was going to St Andrews and I’m at Liverpool, so it was never gonna work. We both knew. What’s funny is that when we were applying for universities, us going to the same place was never on the table.
The thing with Ellie and me is that we were best friends. When I was with her I didn’t have to be Hunky Dunc and she didn’t have to be Little Miss Perfect. We could just be. Sometimes it felt like we had an arrangement. Does that make sense?
When I emailed her and told her I was seeing a fella, I was scared shitless, but she just said she was thrilled for me and would I like her to come down to meet him. She gave us her blessing. You know what? I wonder if she knew. I never confessed to her about Fernando, but I wonder if she knew.
I was never planning on ending up with a guy, but that’s Ade in a nutshell. I don’t think he was gonna take no for an answer.
Halloween. It happened like this: So when I first got here, I joined the hockey team because I was a bit bored of football, to be honest. What I didn’t know was that, every year, the hockey team do a naked calendar to raise money for a charity that’s trying to stop homophobic bullying. It was too late for me to be in this year’s calendar, but there was a Halloween party to launch it, organized with the LGBT Society.
The difference between school and university is that no one here gives a single fuck. Like why wouldn’t the hockey team and the LGBT society have a party together? It was fancy dress and, with the calendar, a bit of flesh was heartily encouraged. I wore some red Calvins, painted myself red all over and stuck some horns on my head. We looked boss striding through Liverpool pretty much in the buff.
The party was in one of the SU bars. It’s a bit of a fleapit, but the music was good and it was £1.50 for a spirit and dash. Get in. Luckily, I didn’t have a lecture until eleven the next day so I could get nicely battered.
I clocked the DJ while I was queuing at the bar. He had his top off and was sprayed with gold glitter all over. (Apparently he was Rocky from Rocky Horror Show, but I didn’t know what that was.) I mostly saw his smile. I know that’s a dead mushy thing to say, but when our eyes met, he looked me up and down and just did this giant beaming grin. The UV lights made his teeth glow. He had dimples.
It’s a good job I was devil red, because I must have blushed like a proper twat.
Later in the night – several bevvies in – I bumped into him when I was coming out of the lav. I don’t know why I’m always meeting guys near toilets. Sketchy. Anyway, he gave us the nod and I nodded back, just to be friendly like. Then he grabbed my arm.
“Hey, are you a fresher?”
“Aye,” I said.
“Geordie accent! Love it!” He’s from Sarf Landan, innit. “You in the calendar?”
“No, mate.”
“Oh, are you here with the Gays?”
“NO!” I held my hands up.
“Calm down, mate. Jesus! Fragile masculinity.” The big smile never left his face. His eyes are a lovely warm brown, like Nutella on toast. “I wasn’t implying anything. I’m Ade. I am with the Gays.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a bag of dicks…”
“Let me guess? Some of your best friends are gay?”
I shook my head, embarrassed. “Not really. I just… My name’s Duncan.”
We shook hands and it was a bit weird. His hand was firm and warm.
“Well, Duncan, I certainly hope you’ll be in next year’s calendar. Masturbation material for a whole month.”
I laughed. I chanced a look at the bulge in his gold Kylie hotpants. “You not into hockey?”
“Do I fucking look like I play hockey?”
I shrugged. “You … you’ve got the body for it.”
“I work out, innit?” He flexed his arm. They were … good arms. “I don’t like hockey, but I do support the hockey team however I can.” His smile got even bigger. “And I’m good with secrets.” And then he ducked into the loo.
Well, I got wankered and waited for him at the end of the night. “Can we go somewhere for a drink?” I said.
“It’s two in the morning!” he said, getting his jacket from the cloakroom. “Where we gonna go?”
“Dunno,” I said. P.S. a lot of this is what Ade has told me I said – I was obliterated by that point. “Have you got anything to drink at yours?”
He shrugged. “I think there’s a bottle of vodka in the freezer. Don’t know if I’ve got anything to mix it with. Milk? Can you mix vodka and milk?”
“I have done and it’s rank,” I told him.
“Haven’t you had enough, mate?”
I shook my head. “We don’t even have to drink…”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, then. Get your coat.”
“I didn’t bring one, like. I’m from up north – this isn’t cold.”
He laughed and we walked (staggered) back to his place. I kept looking over my shoulder, making sure none of the hockey lads saw us leave together. I remember, even through the vodka glaze, being terrified. He put Lana Del Rey on and I perched on the very edge of the bed.
“Maybe I should go,” I said, suddenly panicking.
He leaned down. When he kissed me, my whole body shivered, even though his heating was on full. I didn’t want to go. All I wanted to do was touch him, touch him everywhere and let my hands go mad, but I knew what that meant.
I knew what wanting to do that meant.
But I couldn’t not. He looked so good, and he was red hot and he was right there on top of me.
I was pissed. He showed me what to do and I liked it.
When the sun came up, the sheets were covered in body paint and glitter. It looked like a massacre. We were all tangled up together – clammy, salty and naked.
The weirdest thing of all was that I didn’t care. I just wanted us to be attached – my chest pressed to his back. I kept waiting for the freakout to happen, but it never came. He even asked.
“Morning,” he said, rolling over. “This is the part where you tell me that if I say anything, you’ll kill me.”
“Did someone really say that to you?”
“Maybe I’m paraphrasing a little.”
I rubbed my face. I felt like twice-microwaved shite. “Fuck, I’m hanging, man. But I thought what we did was mint.”
He laughed. “Aye, it was.” He did the worst Geordie accent ever.
“If you do that again I might kill you like,” I said. “Have you got lectures?”
“I study English. I never have lectures.”
“Awesome. Can I stay here for a bit?”
“Yeah. Do you get the horn when you’re hungover?”
“Aye.”
It sort of feels like I never left his room after that night. That bed has become our whole world. It was never the plan to meet someone during Fresher’s month, but I did. I’ve made some mates – the psychology lot are wicked – and I’m still playing hockey with the lads, but I spend most of my time with Ade. He’s a second year, so he had his mates sorted.
The other thing about university was that no one knew Hunky Dunc or Ellie. I never ‘came out’ because I didn’t need to. I couldn’t have kept my grubby mitts off Ade even if I’d wanted to and so people just assumed I was gay and always had been. Which is pretty accurate now I think about it. Some of the hockey lads were all like, “Oh, I didn’t know you were gay”, but they didn’t start hiding their todgers in the showers or anything like. They’re top lads. Like I said, not a single fuck given.
Except now I do need to come out and I’m bricking it.
See it’s always been just Mam and me. Dad jogged on when I was a baby and she never remarried or had any other kids. She’s proud of me. She’s always saying to her friends, “Ooh, I’m so made up with our Duncan, first one in the family to go off to university! Not a dummy like his mam and dad, is he?” She loved Ellie, too. She didn’t talk to us for about a week when I told her we was ending it.
You hear though. You hear stories about gay kids who have to live on the streets and end up as rent boys and stuff. Like would she really throw me out? There’s a lesbian in the office she works at and when she married her partner, Mum always used speech marks around ‘married’ and ‘wife’. She said it was ‘a waste’ when Tom Daley came out.
OK, I don’t think she’s gonna come at me with a knife or anything, but everything between me and Mam is priceless and perfect, like a Ming vase or something, and I’m about to smash it all to shit and be like, “Put that back together, then”. Nothing’s ever gonna be the same again.
I’m about to kill everything we’ve got, and what I suppose it boils down to is… What if she doesn’t love me any more? That’d be shit.
But then I think about Ade again and let all his light wash through me. Last week we went ice-skating – they’ve set up a temporary rink outside the museum. To say I’m pretty nifty on my feet on the pitch, I was freaking hopeless on ice. My knees were folding in and I had to cling to the side like a limpet while actual infants zoomed past me. Of course Ade was like fucking Torvill AND Dean, making me look even worse. “Come on, you dick, just hold my hand. I’ve got you.”
He took my hand in one of his mittens. I was terrified I’d go down and one of the bastard kids would slice my fingers off. “Just lock your knees. I’ve got you.”
We cautiously skated out away from the boundary. Clinging to Ade, I was able to find my feet.
“I look like a proper wanker,” I said.
“No one in the whole wide world has ever looked as beautiful as you do in this precise moment.”
I laughed and almost fell flat on my arse. He caught me and we went down together.
*
Mam is waiting for me in the car park at Newcastle station. It’s dark by the time the train rolls in. Sorry to be a cliché, but I really have brought a mountain of laundry in a big wheelie case. Mam sees me coming in the rear-view mirror and pops the boot.
“Hiya, pet,” she says. “How was the trip up?” She’s had her hair cut a little bit shorter and it’s blonder than when I went away.
“Yeah, it was fine,” I say. I feel sick.
Now is not the time.
“Don’t fanny about, I’ve got dinner on a low heat.”
I climb into the passenger seat. Local radio is playing. Her stilettos lie in the footwell of the passenger side because she can’t drive in heels.
“What are we having?” I ask.
“Cottage pie and beans,” she says. “When was the last time you had a proper meal, eh?”
Last night. Ade cooked lamb massaman curry as a goodbye dinner. I could tell her that. I could just say, “My boyfriend cooks for me all the time”.
No. Now is not the time.
“I dunno,” I say as she pulls out of the car park.
“I hope you’re not just eating kebabs and junk.”
“I can’t afford kebabs,” I tell her. “It’s pasta and sauce most nights.” That’s another thing – I rely on my allowance from Mam. Sure, I’ve got my loan, but she sends two hundred quid a month and I really need it. What if she cuts me off?
We live in Jesmond, a little drive outside of the city centre. She turns into our cul-de-sac and the familiarity feels warm. I’ve lived on this street my whole life – same semi-detached house. I’ve missed home this term, not full-on homesickness, but home is … home. This is where I’m from.
As ever, the heating is on full-blast as we step inside and the house is thick with rich, meaty cottage pie smell. My mouth waters. The cat, an unimpressed little knobhead at the best of times, gives me the shit-eye – peering down at me through the stair rails.
“I’ll stick a load on after dinner, just leave your case in the hall. Go wash your hands and I’ll get dinner on the plate.”
I wonder if she’s missed having someone to fuss over. I wash my hands in the downstairs loo before kicking off my trainers and padding through to the dining room. I’d forgotten what proper carpet feels like on your feet: lovely and squishy.
“Do you like my new wallpaper?” she calls from the kitchen.
She’s been excited about showing me the new dining room. “Aye, it’s mint,” I call back. It’s a bit flowery for me, but she seems dead keen. Hands wrapped in cherry-red oven gloves, she carries two steaming plates through. Mam believes serving food on cold plates should be a criminal offence.
She plonks a plate in front of me. “Do you want any sauce or anything?”
“No, thanks.”
“There’s more Bisto in the pan if you want it.”
“Cool.” I tuck in.
“So how’s your lectures going, pet?”
“Do you still think you’ll change courses?”
“Maybe. This is really nice, Mam.” Now that I’m here, it feels like I’m in a world without Ade, a world where I’m ten years old again. I can’t imagine telling her about my boyfriend because that person – that version of me – doesn’t live here.
There’s a little silence. Mam puts more salt on her cottage pie.
I can’t do it. The lights on the Christmas tree change colour every five seconds and I can’t ruin Christmas. Maybe I’ll wait until next week.
“Listen, son. I want to talk about this gay thing.”
I swear my heart actually stops. For a second I’m legally dead. My throat closes up. “What?” I rasp.
Her mouth is a tight line. “I can’t have it hanging over me all Christmas,” she says. “I won’t be able to have any fun at all, so let’s just get it out of the way now.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lie.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Duncan. There I am typing ‘Gardening Centre’ into Google when ‘Gaytube’ and ‘Gaydar’ pop up, and it wasn’t me that went on those websites and it wasn’t the ruddy cat either, was it?”
Fuck. How? I always clear my history. I only went on those sites out of nosiness anyways, like.
Shit.
Apparently now is the time.
I can’t speak. I just stare at my cottage pie.
“I’m not cross, you know,” she says, her voice tiny. “I still love yous.”
I can’t look at her. “I was going to tell you,” I mutter.
“I didn’t want to believe it, but then I spoke to your auntie Julie and she talked some sense into me. She said, ‘He’s still your Duncan, isn’t he?’ and I was like, ‘Aye, I suppose he is’. I just want yous to be happy, Duncan.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and plops into my tea. “I am happy.”
“Have you got a fella, then?”
I nod.
“What’s he like?”
“I love him.”
“Does he love you?”
“Aye.”
“And he treats you right?”
“Aye.”
“Ade. He’s a top lad.”
She sighs deeply. “I won’t lie, Duncan, it’s all a lot to take in. I worry about you, pet.”
I finally look up. “You don’t have to worry about me. He’s awesome.”
“Well, like I say, if you’re happy, I’m happy. And I mean that.” She goes to the kitchen and fetches the kitchen roll. “Here – there’s no need to cry.”
I wipe my eyes. I feel lighter somehow. “I was so worried about coming home. I didn’t know what you were gonna say. I’ve been proper stressing about it, like.”
She shakes her head. “Did you really think I’d kick off? You and me aren’t going anywhere, are we? There’s nothing you could say to me that’d make me love you less – you should know that. Except voting for the bastard Tories,” she says, with a wink.
I laugh and she smiles back at me. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “So tell me all about this Ade character, then.”
And look at that, the world is still turning.