“I always ignore this pile, because I can’t look at that kid’s life jacket. Where did you get it, anyway?” Zack asked, biting his lip. “It’s so small only a baby would fit.”
“A charity shop, I think.” Kaz gingerly took the life jacket and held it close.
“Is it what I think? I’ve noticed when you see a baby or pram it’s like you’re looking for someone. Especially if it’s red. Then you look so disappointed when you see the kiddie.”
“Yeah.” He reached for Zack. “I didn’t know I did that.”
“So awful, babe. No words for this pile.”
“I met them on the road when I had nothing.” He had to stop. “For a while, they were my family. I was all dead inside, from people shouting and throwing stuff when they caught me stealing food like I was the lowest, most disgusting person out there. I was…starving. But not just for food.”
“Oh, babe.”
“The baby—she held my hand—she didn’t care what I’d done.”
“You did what you had to,” Zack murmured into Kaz’s hair. “Only what this world made you do.”
“They shouldn’t have died! They were beautiful people.” He paused to contain the words that had choked him for so long.
Words.
“Don’t you even say it! No, they shouldn’t have died, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have lived.” Zack held his face gently. “It’s survivor guilt. I went online and read up.”
“What did it say?”
Zack thought. “It said…one day, you should see that counsellor Lisa told us about.”
“What else?”
“It said you need lots of loving.” Zack kissed him softly. “To know you matter so much that if you weren’t around, I’d go stale like a piece of bread.”
Sometimes kissing was hot and sexy, but often it was about the way he fitted within Zack’s arms like they were born to be together. Kaz felt his shoulders relaxing as he breathed and realised he no longer held the words because he didn’t believe they were true anymore.
“You didn’t go online, did you?” Zack hated computers and tablets.
“No.” He giggled. “It was on a TV show about the Titanic. But the part about seeing the counsellor is true.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll tell Lisa I’m ready if you come with me.” There was no need to ask.
“’Course. You don’t have to ever give this pile away, babe.”
“I know.” But he was ready to take it to the storeroom anyway, and then next week, he’d arrange for all the piles to go to charity shops. In the end, he didn’t need these things to remember, or say goodbye. He had his friends, and Zack, and soon, he’d be starting a sports teaching course. Some days there was darkness and pain, but somehow it wasn’t as hard now he wasn’t alone.
“No words, but there’s one useful thing I think we can do with these swimming noodles,” he said, looking at the armbands and floating devices. “Can you swim?”
Zack stared in horror. “Swimming?”
“It’s such good exercise.” He nodded at the pile of swimming noodles. “Seems a shame to waste these. I don’t think it would be disrespecting their memory.” He swallowed. “They were always laughing.”
Tork had told him about the pain he associated with some of the places he’d slept rough, so one day, he and Adam visited each corner and stairwell to kiss it goodbye. Then Adam had danced and even sang, and somehow laughing and togetherness had given Tork back the power to control his pain. He couldn’t change the past but he could try to have a better future.
There could be no way of evening out the badness of what happened in the ocean. At the back of his mind, Kaz knew one day he would try to speak so the world never forgot. But in order to speak, he, too, had to control the memories or they would overwhelm him once more.
He looked at the noodles thoughtfully then picked one up and gently poked Zack, who shook his head adamantly.
“Wearing shorts is bad enough. You don’t need to see me in swimming trunks.”
Kaz leapt astride and began kissing under his neck. He’d never get enough of his gentle giant. “I do. I need to see you in swimming trunks, then out. I need to see you from the front, the back, upside down.” There were so many things he wanted them to do together. “Even—inside out.” Waking up, walks and trips, tickles, music and activities—the twenty-four hours in a day to spend with someone else—all the things he never dreamed he could have. “Mm. What you do to me. I don’t need to see your body to see you.” He began rocking gently, his head on Zack’s shoulder. “You’re the cook to all my flour.” His shoulders were pulled closer, and then he was lost.
Later, they sat on the pool side with legs dangling in the water. It was blue and still, with lines painted on the bottom. It was nothing like the ocean, but still Kaz had to breathe deep.
“It’s the shallow end, babe,” Zack said. “We can touch the floor. And there are no waves. Are you OK? I don’t mind if we have to go home instead.”
“And it’s for fun. Because there’s nothing we can’t do.”
“Exactly. But don’t look at me,” Zack said, ogling Kaz’s body. They’d showered together last night—their first time fully naked together. At first, Zack stood with head hanging and arms crossed over his beautiful body, but it hadn’t taken Kaz long to get him in the shower, soaping him all over. Then Zack made noises that were a long way from shame, and soon, they were touching and exploring each other with legs spread and arms high. The shower had lasted most of the evening, the noises carrying on later in Kaz’s bed.
“Of course I’m going to look. Every day I’m going to look.” He looked Zack in the eye. “Everywhere. Look, look, look.”
Zack went red around his neck. It spread across his chest then down both arms. “Oh my god, stop it,” he giggled. “These trunks aren’t safe.”
“No. I’m never stopping. Uncross your arms so I can see.”
Splashes of water hit Kaz. The cold was enticing—invigorating—and nothing like the ocean.
“Did you just splash me?” he demanded.
“Yeah.” Zack splashed him again with one leg. “What you gonna do about it?”
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Kaz took his hand. “One…two… Jump!”
They hit the water together.
***
The End
* * * * *