Luke’s schedule has been horrendous. Six trips to Paris this week, four to Amsterdam; he’s lost count of the domestic flights. There’s a staff shortage at the airline, along with a spate of sicknesses caused by London’s nasty weather.
‘Jesus, my feet are killing me,’ Nerida groans as they emerge from the aircraft on to the gangway. They’re greeted by a blast of cold air – a warning of the weather waiting outside – before the heating kicks in.
‘Me, too.’
‘Shut up. You’re not allowed to complain.’
True. He shares her outrage that female flight attendants are still required to wear heels of a certain height and skirts instead of trousers. So much for equality.
‘Let’s find a warm bar and get pissed,’ Nerida suggests, linking her arm through his.
Nerida is the perpetual party girl. No matter how tired or dispirited she feels, a glass of wine is all she needs to be instantly revived. Her social life is non-stop – four or five nights a week – and astonishingly eventful: Luke usually gets a blow-by-blow account when they’re rostered on together.
This is where Luke should say no. This is where he should explain that he’s bone tired and has barely seen Aaron all week. This is where he should show some self-awareness and willpower; after all, he knows he drinks too much. Some of the problem traces all the way back to high school. Competing with Zach Latham to be the funniest and get the most laughs. Then competing to see who could get the drunkest; Luke always won that competition hands down.
Nerida pulls on his arm. ‘Ah, go on.’
‘Okay, just a quick one,’ he says, hating himself for being so weak.
It’s after midnight when Luke fumbles his key into the lock, pushes open the door and lurches inside. The hallway is pitch-black. He tries to turn on his phone light, somehow loses his balance and bumps against the door frame. The phone goes flying into the blackness, clattering as it hits the ground.
‘Shit.’
He sweeps his palms across the floorboards. Where the fuck has it gone?
This is how Aaron finds him – on his hands and knees – when he turns on the hall light.
‘Jesus, Luke. What are you doing?’
Luke squints into the sudden brightness. ‘Dropped my phone.’ He spots it a few metres away – how the fuck did it travel so far? – and crawls towards it.
‘Gotcha.’ The screen isn’t smashed, everything seems to be working. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to announce that the missing item has been located.’
He’s tired now. Incredibly tired and incredibly drunk. Bloody Nerida. She was still going hard when he left. How does she do it?
‘How does who do what?’ Aaron asks.
Must have been thinking aloud. Luke is too jaded to elaborate. He thinks he might as well stay down here, on the floor, and have a little nap. He props himself against the wall, closes his eyes, immediately feels himself drifting off.
‘You’re pissed,’ Aaron declares from somewhere above.
Luke snuggles against the wall. He is so happy to be home ... even though he hasn’t made it past the hallway. He’s drifting, drifting ... There’s something cold touching his lips. It knocks against his teeth: a glass. Aaron is crouched down next to him.
‘Drink some water, for God’s sake.’
The water is delicious. Exactly what he needs. Relieves the stale taste in his mouth, the dull ache in his head.
‘This is why I love you.’
‘I love you too, you moron.’
The water is gone. Now Luke can sleep. Finally. All day he has been waiting for this moment.
‘Up you get.’
‘Ah, I’m fine here.’
‘You’re too pissed to know the difference between a soft bed and the cold, hard floor. But you’ll thank me in the morning. Come on.’
Aaron hoists him to his feet. Props his shoulder under his armpit. Half carries, half drags him to the bedroom. The mattress sinks beneath his weight. Luke is vaguely aware of his shoes coming off, then his trousers, finally his shirt. Then the weight of the bedclothes over his bare skin. He is cocooned, safe, home at last.
Aaron gets in the other side of the bed, turns off the lamp.
Let’s get married.
The words are on the tip of Luke’s tongue but they won’t come out. They refuse to formulate into anything beyond a thought. They never do. Why is that?
Aaron is a professor of sociology at University College London. He teaches as well as researches; as part of his position he’s expected to publish regular articles on his area of expertise. Luke met Aaron in a pub. His first impressions were intelligent, cultured and self-possessed, as well as cute-looking. Four years later those impressions hold true, in addition to some other admirable attributes: Aaron never has more than three or four drinks at a time, he doesn’t say yes when he means no, and he doesn’t have a self-destructive bone in his body.
‘You’re burnt out, Luke. This is what you do when you’re tired. You get filthy drunk and make things even worse for yourself.’
Luke groans. His head is aching. Waves of nausea rise and recede. He feels unbalanced, as though he could topple off the kitchen stool and crack his head on the floor tiles. He grips the counter. Steadies himself. ‘I know, I know, I’m a fool.’
‘You can’t go on like this,’ Aaron declares. He moves around the kitchen as he speaks, tidying away dishes, wiping surfaces. The movement is making Luke feel dizzy. ‘You need a holiday. Three or four weeks at least.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Look at yourself in the mirror. If you can see past the hangover, you’ll notice a perilously tired man.’ Aaron grins, and Luke knows he is about to say something harsh and wants to soften it. ‘Being haggard is not attractive, you know.’
Luke laughs, which makes his head feel significantly worse. ‘Jeez, thanks ... And there was I, thinking I was hot ...’
There’s a small silence. Luke sips from a glass of coconut water. Aaron swears by it for hangovers ... not that he suffers from many of them. ‘I suppose I could take a week ...’
Aaron rolls his eyes. ‘That’s not enough, and you know it isn’t. You’ve never taken more than a week’s holiday since the day we met. What are you scared of?’
Good question. Is he scared of something? That his job and livelihood will somehow disappear while he’s vacationing? In the early days it was a money thing. Being on leave meant not being paid overtime, and the basic wage simply wasn’t enough to live on. But money hasn’t been a problem for years. Is it more to do with having time to stop and reflect on all the things in his life that are shit?
‘It’s a busy time of year.’
‘So?’ Aaron is being uncharacteristically obtuse.
‘It’s not really a convenient time to be taking extended leave.’
‘You could be back on the job the week before Christmas. Surely, the airline would be happy with that?’
Actually, the airline would be thrilled with that. Finding people willing to work over Christmas is never easy.
Aaron rinses some coffee cups, then tries a different angle. ‘Look, it’d be an opportunity to go to Australia. You’re overdue a visit, and I’ve never been. I want to see the opera house, the bridge, Bondi Beach ... More than that, I want to meet your family—’ Luke snorts at this but Aaron continues nevertheless. ‘I want to see where you grew up. You’ve met my family, seen my childhood house ...’
Aaron’s parents live in Wales, in the same three-bed semi they purchased when they first got married. Luke and Aaron visit several times a year and are pampered for the entirety of their stay.
‘You know how difficult my father is,’ Luke says.
Difficult being the understatement of the century. Belligerent. Scathing. Bigoted. And more. His roar on seeing Luke’s outfit for a Mardi Gras party. Take it off before I tear it off ya.
The scuff across the head when Luke got blond highlights. Bloody hell, next you’ll be wearing make-up.
Luke’s earrings and other jewellery gathered up and deposited in the garbage. Where did I go wrong with you?
‘I know,’ Aaron says gently, bringing Luke back to the here and now. ‘But I still want to meet him at some point.’
Luke takes another sip from his glass. He doesn’t think the coconut water is helping. Neither did the Panadol he took as soon as he woke up. The only thing that will help is another twelve hours in bed – and no further thoughts about his father.
‘There’s a reunion coming up,’ he admits huskily; even his voice is not working properly. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Why not? I thought you liked school?’
‘What’s the point in looking back? “Look forward” has always been my motto.’
‘Might be time for a new motto.’
Luke closes his eyes and he’s back in time again. Katy grinning as she brought her car to a jerky stop outside his house. ‘Your taxi is here.’
Singing loudly to Backstreet Boys on the way to school, a bubble of happiness before the drudgery of class.
One particular morning, Annabel sidling up as they walked across the oval. ‘I hardly see you any more. Why do you hang out with that nerd?’
Luke would have said ‘shut up’ or something to that effect but not before the damage was done. Annabel’s intention was for Katy to hear, for Katy to blush, for Katy to feel miserable for the rest of the day.
Which leads him to question why Katy is the one who’s driving this reunion. What does she want from it? The chance to reveal her new self? An opportunity to come face to face with Annabel as an adult, an equal? Katy is far from that blushing schoolgirl; she has learned how to stand up for herself. Although knowing Katy, her motives are more likely to be purely altruistic and nothing to do with Annabel.
Oh God, that reminds him. He hasn’t answered her email about being a bloody sperm donor.
Why is it such a bad idea?
Where does he start?
His headache goes up another notch.
‘Katy wants me to have a baby with her.’
‘Whoa ... Really?’ Aaron is visibly taken aback. Stops his buzzing around the kitchen. Puts down the tea towel, pulls out the stool next to Luke.
‘Yeah, really ... Can you imagine me as a dad?’
Even though he feels like shit, it’s good to be here with Aaron. At home, for once. Talking about stuff. Important stuff.
Aaron takes his hand. Squeezes it. His look is one of pure love and belief.
‘Yes, actually, I can.’