Didn’t look straight away when the phone pinged. Gave it five minutes. A little window when I could hope. When I could imagine it was him and everything was OK. Imagine I’d never done such a stupid, stupid thing.
And then it was him.
<run?>
In spite of myself I smiled. <beat you to the corner>
<u r on. Come out?>
He must be out the front. If he wasn’t kidding around. That wiped the smile off my face. How was I going to play this? And how was he? Did the text have another message? Let’s go on like it never happened?
Well, I could do that. He was probably going off to uni. God knew where we were going. If he could forget it, so could I. Or act like I could.
I got up quietly. Left the television on. Manoeuvred through the screen door. Mum and Dad must have been in the pool area. I could see the light flickering between the bars of the fence, but couldn’t hear anything. Felt like none of my business, whatever was going on over there. I levered myself down the steps and across the damp grass. Fumbled with the garden gate, opened it, went through. Looked around. If he’d been kidding, I was going to feel so stupid.
‘Need to warm up?’
He was there, under the tree, in his running gear. As I went closer I could smell his sweat, mixed in with the smell of gum leaves. It reminded me of that night.
It might have reminded him too, because he said, ‘Can you walk? I need to warm down; I’ll go slow.’
I was glad to get away from the tree. I was pretty fast on the crutches now and I swung along the road and Tom jogged on the grass verge. Paced from one streetlight to the next, pools of light in the dark. It was hot. I started sweating.
At the end of our street was a small park with an exercise point. We stopped and Tom started doing back presses. I positioned myself under the bar, dropped my crutches and reached up. It was too high. I wasn’t going to ask him to lift me up for chin-ups. I bent down and got my crutches again, leaned on them.
‘Good to have your dad home?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Real good.’
The fact of his dad’s absence sat between us, but I didn’t know what to say about it.
‘Did you get back with Laura?’ he asked.
I nearly said yes. I nearly said no. I opened my mouth not quite knowing what answer I’d give, then closed it again. Took a breath. Sitting there with Tom in the night, I knew what the real answer was.
Toby would have given it. Toby wouldn’t have cared what someone else thought.
‘I won’t get back with her,’ I said. And then I tried it out. ‘I reckon maybe girls aren’t for me.’
He didn’t say anything for a while. Did another round of press-ups. ‘So you’re gay,’ he said finally. Not quite a question.
I remembered how Toby had lunged for everything he wanted, and how I’d felt when I’d done that with Tom. For one single second it was more right than anything in my life before. Nothing that happened with Laura even came close. Toby, I reckoned, would have loved me anyway, knowing this about me. It wouldn’t have frightened him.
‘Guess I won’t know for sure until it happens.’
I could feel Tom’s fear, rippling the air. Strangely, mine was gone. I didn’t care now that he knew. I’d lost his friendship already. Anything now was a bonus.
‘Look, if you’re thinking I—’
I interrupted him. ‘Don’t worry. That was a mistake. I don’t think—’
‘Because I’m not.’
‘I know. And anyhow, you’re not that hot.’
He snorted. ‘Thanks.’
I nearly grinned, in the dark. I could make a joke. That was something.
‘I won’t be a dickhead about it,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Look,’ he said. Stopped. ‘Thought it was better if I stayed away. Last thing you needed in the middle of everything.’
‘Yeah, right. Thanks.’
‘Your parents trusted me. You’re under age, Jarrah! What if someone found out – with all this other stuff going on?’
‘I’m eight weeks under age. Guess you just didn’t want to get into trouble?’
‘Fuck it! That wasn’t it!’
‘Whatever.’
He started on another round of press-ups and I looked out across the park. I could feel it coming, big and fast and unstoppable, one of those moments where I missed Toby so bad that it was like being torn apart.
I was always going to be alone. Even when I’d been kissing Laura, even when we’d nearly been having sex, I’d felt alone. Now I even felt alone with Tom. Maybe we could be friends, but I didn’t know if I’d ever have that feeling back, the one I used to have when we ran together. The two of us, side by side, step by step, everything OK.
All of a sudden I’d had enough. I didn’t want the feeling to hit when I was still sitting there with Tom.
‘I’d better get back. Didn’t tell Mum and Dad I was coming out. I’ll see you round.’
He started to say something but I was turning away, not wanting to hear it, wanting to get away from him, and it was dark and the stupid crutch slipped and I stumbled. Couldn’t save myself, not with the leg in plaster. Went down. Not hard.
It wasn’t the first time I’d tumbled. It was no big deal. I could get myself up, though it would take a bit. But I’d dropped the crutch and it was out of reach.
‘Hey.’ He reached his hand down and without thinking, I reached up and took it.
He hauled me to my feet, dropped my hand like it was hot, reached down for the crutch, passed it to me.
‘Thanks,’ I said, tucking it under my arm.
He didn’t move. We were close together and there was something about his stillness that wasn’t still at all. I could feel the movement of his breath, stirring the air around me.
‘Oh Christ, Jarrah,’ he said, close to my ear.
And the world changed.