Identity Check

Chapter 12

David had some business event the next Friday, so Patrick joined up with Russ and Phil and their group again. Fewer of them than usual, some of the students already gone for the Easter break. When they'd danced themselves to a standstill on the Circle's dance floor, they decided to head upstairs, to the dark balcony bar, squeezing through the crowds to the grid at the front. Patrick couldn't help recalling that first night, and those words David whispered to him.

David. A voice in his ear and now his lover. Fate.

Another voice sounded in his ear then. Russ. "Hey," he said, and slid his arm around Patrick's waist. He'd had permission to do that for months, but now it made Patrick tense up. "Want to come back to mine tonight?"

Of course part of him did - Russ was desirable, and damn good in bed. But things were different now.

"Thanks, but I can't. I'm exclusive with David now."

Russ pulled back and stared at him. "You're what?"

"Exclusive. We're not sleeping with anyone else."

Russ grabbed Patrick's shoulders and pulled him closer. "We really need to talk!" He grabbed Patrick's hand and started to pull him back up the raked floor and out of the balcony bar. Patrick didn't protest, let Russ take him out into the passageway.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Russ demanded. "Exclusive? Are you kidding me?"

"What's so strange about that?" Patrick said. "Isn't it what most couples at least try to do?"

"Not gay couples. I told you that."

"What, there are special rules for us are there? It's okay to be immoral if you're gay? It's okay to cheat if it's on a man?"

"Immoral?" Russ said.

"Yes," Patrick said. He hesitated for a moment about his choice of words, but decided he was right and went on. "It's immoral to screw around, if you're in a relationship with someone." He was also a hypocrite. But he could change that now. "Gay couples can be exclusive. Look at Ray and Tom."

"Who?"

"Ray! The manager here. Him and his partner are exclusive. If it's right for them, why isn't it right for me and David?"

"They're older. And they're probably HIV positive."

"What? What the hell makes you think that?"

"Lots of pos guys do the exclusive thing because of their status. And lots of older guys are positive."

"Oh, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. Ray never mentioned anything about that." He'd say something wouldn't he? If that was the reason? Russ opened his mouth to say more, but the door into the bar opened and Phil came out, with a worried expression on his face.

"You two okay? Russ, you looked upset about something."

"I'm fine," Russ said. "For fuck's sake, Phil, you fuss like an old woman sometimes."

"Russ!" Phil protested.

"Why the hell are you so bent out of shape about it?" Patrick demanded, not liking him having a go at Phil when it was nothing to do with him. "How is it even your business?" He straightened up, folding his arms. "I saw the way you looked at David when you met him. You didn't like him."

"He's..." Russ scowled, bit his lip. "He seemed kind of full of himself, that's all. Nick and Colin felt the same way."

"I don't care what any of you think," Patrick said, furious now. "I know what he's really like."

"Yeah, you've known him three whole weeks after all," Russ said, a bitter laugh in his voice. "When are you two moving in together?"

"You're moving in with him?" Phil said, gaping at Patrick.

"Of course not! Russ is just being a jealous idiot."

"Jealous? What, because I don't get to screw you any more? Get over yourself, 'sweet thing', there's plenty more fish in the sea."

"And you're a really keen fisherman, aren't you?"

Phil stepped between them, facing Patrick. He wobbled a bit in a way that suggested Russ had just bumped into him surging forward.

"Uncalled for," Phil said, his face serious and angry, making Patrick ashamed of his words. "Maybe you should leave now, Pat."

"Damn good idea!" Patrick turned away and strode off.

"See you at work on Monday," Phil called. "We'll talk."

Patrick's rage faded somewhat. He shouldn't be directing it at Phil anyway. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Russ had moved away from Phil and was now leaning on the wall, glaring at the floor, body tense. Patrick nodded to Phil who nodded back, then went to put his arm around Russ. Damn nice guy, Phil.

Russ should follow his example.

*

Apologising shows character, Nick had said. And a cooler head the next day made Patrick cringe at his own idiocy. Not that he thought he was wrong as such, but he could have put it better. So apologising was the first thing Patrick did when he got into work on Monday. Phil was already at his desk and Patrick brought him a coffee, handing it to him with a sheepish smile.

"Phil, I acted like a total knob on Friday night. I wanted to say sorry."

"That's okay."

"No, I mean it. I was completely out of order." He sat at his desk, with his own coffee.

"Pat, it's not really me you need to apologise to."

Patrick nodded, turning on his PC. "I know. I tried to call Russ on Saturday and yesterday, but I just got his voice mail."

"Oh, yeah, he's away for a few days. Gone with his parents to some family thing in Poland."

"Poland?"

"That's where his mother's side of the family is from. They're going for some big family get-together. He'll be gone until after Easter."

"Oh, okay." The university's term had ended for the Easter holiday and both Colin and Nick had left yesterday. Nick to go home, telling Patrick he should at least try to come down for the long weekend, and Colin for a trip to the continent. The house felt empty. Of course, he hoped to invite David around to help him fill it up some of the time. Right now though Phil still looked kind of glum. Maybe he'd like some company.

"You want to go out for a couple of pints after work? Maybe make a night of it?"

Phil looked at him with an almost agonised look in his eyes and shook his head. "I'd love to, but I have to stay home with my mum tonight."

"Oh, right."

"She's... um, she's had a setback and has to use the wheelchair right now. I don't like to leave her alone too much."

"Of course," Patrick said, as he typed in his login.

"You could come round though, if you like. We'll get a pizza in, couple of cans, if you like."

"Will that be okay with your mum?"

"Oh yeah, she's dying to meet you."

"What?" Patrick laughed "How has she even heard of me?"

Phil blushed. "I, ah, may have mentioned you a couple of times."

*

That evening, Patrick found the address Phil gave him and opened the gate into a neatly trimmed garden. This must be the right house, the front door had a ramp and handrail in front of it instead of a step. When he rang the bell, a cat appeared out of the twilight gloom and sat beside Patrick. Man and cat exchanged a look, then Phil opened the door and the cat ran inside.

"I hope that's your cat," Patrick said as he followed it in, with the beer and tortilla chips that he'd picked up on the way here.

"It is. His name's Napoleon. Here, let me put those cans in the fridge." He took the four-pack from Patrick and led him into the kitchen, where a thin woman with the same reddish-brown hair as Phil's, was working from her wheelchair at a lowered kitchen worktop bench, making a pot of tea.

"Mum," Phil said. "This is Patrick Kavanagh."

"Hello, Mrs Jordan," Patrick said, dumping the bags of tortilla chips on the table and going to shake her hand.

"Pleased to meet you at last, Patrick. You're just as handsome as Philip says."

"Mum!" Phil protested.

"Well he is. Would you like some biscuits with your tea, Patrick?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you."

She smiled at him. "Nice manners too. My compliments to your mother. Philip, get some of those chocolate digestives out, and some plates."

"Work, work, work," Phil muttered as he found biscuits and plates. Mrs Jordan brought the teapot over, her electric wheelchair buzzing over the linoleum, and Phil picked up the tray of tea and biscuits.

In the living room, they evicted the cat from the sofa, and it took up position by the radiator and started washing its ears.

"Don't worry," Mrs Jordan said to Patrick, as she poured the tea. "I'm going to bed soon, so I won't be in your hair all night."

"Oh, that's not a problem," Patrick said. "It's nice to meet you. Phil's always talking about you."

"And vice-versa," she said. "You've made quite an impression on him."

"Really?" Patrick looked at Phil, who squirmed a bit.

"Well, you're a good dancer and I like to dance. So, you know, it seemed like we were..." He trailed off.

"Made for each other?" Mrs Jordan said.

"As dance partners, she means," Phil said.

"Of course, dear," she said. "He gets the dancing from me. I used to win prizes. When I was... younger of course."

Glancing at the walls, Patrick saw some photographs of a young girl with trophies, and looked at the woman that young girl had become. How much older she appeared than what her actual age must be, her hair streaked with grey, her body wasted and fragile. How fucking cruel was life?

She left them after they'd finished their tea, Phil helping her to her room, taking a book with her. The cat followed them up there. Patrick cleared away the tea things and washed up. He was just finishing drying up the cups and plates when Phil came in, twenty minutes later.

"You didn't have to do that," Phil said.

"No problem. It's okay, I'm nearly done," he said as Phil reached for another tea towel to help. "Why don't you put out the beer and chips?"

"Okay." Phil looked for glasses and bowl. He emptied the chips into the bowl. Patrick smiled. That was the influence of living with his mother. Patrick, Nick and Colin would have eaten from the packets and drunk from the cans. It saved on washing up.

"Your mum seems really nice," Patrick said.

"She was raving about you too," Phil said, rummaging in the fridge for some dip. "About how handsome and polite you are. It's a good thing you are gay, because you'd be a danger to all womankind with your irresistible charm."

Patrick laughed at that, shook his head. "And she really is totally okay about you being gay?" Phil had told him that plenty of times now, but he still couldn't quite believe it.

"Okay? Hell, she sets me up with guys! She's been trying to pair me off with her cute physiotherapist for months now." He sighed. "Maybe I should let her, because living at home with my mum doesn't do me any favours on the scene. It's not cool."

"Doing right by your family sounds pretty cool to me."

Phil smiled. "Flattery will get you everything."

"I thought that was 'flattery will get you everywhere'."

"I've got the thing if you've got the where."

"Phil!"

Phil just grinned. "Come on, pizza comes at nine. Let's snuggle in."

They 'snuggled in' lounging on the sofa. Despite the comedy movie they watched, after a while, their talk turned more serious, as Patrick encouraged Phil to talk about his mother. That had to be good for him, to let those feelings out.

"The doctors say the times between her relapses will only get shorter," he explained. "And after each one, though she recovers some function, she's always left more disabled than before."

"It must be so hard on you."

"Well, I've been taking care of her since I was a kid. It's just part of my life."

"Can I ask, um, what about your dad?"

"He pissed off not long after she was first diagnosed. Having an eight year old kid and a disabled wife to take care of apparently cramped his style too much." The sneer in his voice was evident.

"I'm sorry."

"We're well rid of the bastard." He sighed. "I don't resent having to take care of her. She's my mum. It's my job. And I still have a social life, good friends." He smiled at Patrick as he said it. "Makes it difficult with guys sometimes. I mean if I'm seeing some guy for more than just a casual shag. Some guys get funny if I have to cancel a date on short notice. Or can't go and spend the whole weekend with him, things like that."

"So, what do you do?"

"Bin him," he said. "If a guy can't accept that she's my priority, then tough shit."

"That can't be easy, if you have, you know... feelings for the guy."

"Surprising how quick you can fall out of love with someone when you realise he's a self-centred bastard." Phil took a drink of his beer and looked at Patrick a bit sheepishly. "Sorry, I sound so judgemental, don't I? It's just... well, I can always find another boyfriend. She can't find another son, can she?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Phil spoke quietly. "The thing that scares me most is..." He stopped and looked away as his voice cracked.

Patrick cringed as he bit into a tortilla chip right then, the crunch of it loud as a bone snapping in the sudden silence. Phil turned back, under control, though his voice was still hoarse.

"She could go blind. That's one of the things the MS does. If that happened and she was in the wheelchair too, she'd need twenty-four hour care. I'm prepared to do that, give up work, whatever it take. But what if I couldn't cope? If I just wasn't strong enough? The doctors might put her in a home or something, take her away, and I can't... I'm really scared of that."

Patrick's answer to that was to put his arm around Phil and let him lean in against his shoulder. Phil turned his face to press against Patrick's shirt and spoke in a muffled whisper.

"Sometimes I wish I was religious like you. So I could pray for strength."

Patrick hadn't prayed for months. Perhaps he should start again, and pray for Phil. He put his other arm around Phil, holding him tight, not sure if he was giving or receiving strength.

"Phil, you have ten times the strength I have." Phil didn't answer, just wrapped his arms around Patrick's waist, clinging to him as if he was a rock in a flood. "I wish I had the same bond with my mother that you have with yours. I used to, but I think it's gone and won't ever come back." And now he clung to Phil reassured by his strength.

Phil murmured something, but his voice was too muffled to make it out. This is so strange, Patrick thought. Nothing sexual was happening here, yet he couldn't imagine sitting wrapped up with Nick or Colin like this, no matter how supportive and sympathetic they were. Different with Phil. Their sexuality gave them permission to seek comfort from each other's touch without feeling self-conscious, or worrying what the other man thought.

He was glad he'd come round here tonight, glad he'd made the effort to apologise to Phil. This was a friend worth hanging onto.

*

Patrick left about ten-thirty, not wanting to keep Phil up late. The guy needed his rest. Patrick understood better now just how much of a burden Phil carried. A burden he never complained about.

Unlike Patrick, who had so little to complain of in comparison and yet complained a lot more. Phil must think him a terrible whiner. It was time to show some backbone. Stop moaning about his supposedly awful life when other people had real problems.

Perhaps he should remember to count his blessings more often. At least he didn't have to watch his mother suffer and fade away to an inevitable early death. Patrick's father might be dead, but was that better than living with the knowledge of having a father who'd dumped you for being too much work? Phil must despise the man.

And Patrick had David, who things looked very promising with. He hoped Phil could find someone like that. If anyone deserved that, he did. Of course, like he'd said, it would have to be someone who understood and accepted that his mother was his priority and that would narrow the field, since most people were so selfish. Well, Patrick would keep an eye out to see if he could find someone worthy of Phil.

He arrived home at around eleven, to the dark and silent house and fired up his laptop to check on his emails. Messages from Nick and Colin made him smile and then he opened one from David, with the subject line 'Weekend'. He'd left it until last, to savour it. Perhaps David had some saucy plans for the long Easter weekend.

'Bad news, sweet thing. I'm stuck here till Tuesday at least.'

Oh fuck.

'I'm really pissed off about it. I was looking forward to just you and me and four days in bed! Now I'm stuck here with these damn clients – from Boring Bastards Inc.'

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

'You should go to London, to your Aunt and Uncle's, like you mentioned you had an invite for. I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back.

xDavidx'

Well that was just fucking dandy.

He closed the mail from David and sighed. Well, he supposed he could go to London. On the other hand, maybe someone else was free.

He didn't have to spend the weekend in bed, he could spend it dancing instead. Help Phil let off a little steam. He clicked on Phil's name in his most emailed contacts and typed in the subject.

'You want to dance your ass off this weekend?'

Chuckling at that, sure it would get Phil's attention, he typed the rest of the mail and sent it off, then went to get ready for bed. To his surprise a reply was already waiting for him when he came back from the bathroom.

'You're on! Talk at work tomorrow.'

*

"Got any plans for the weekend then, Patrick?" Ray said, as he passed out pay slips in the staffroom. Patrick, resting his aching feet after his Thursday shift, smiled up at him as he took the slip.

"Well, I'll be in here some of the time, taking advantage of my free membership. Me and Phil." He grinned. "Any dancing competitions on?"

"You two are barred from any more," Ray said, and chuckled. "I'm not your champagne supplier you know." He stepped over to the pigeon holes on the wall to distribute the payslips for the staff not here.

Patrick looked Ray over curiously, wondering about what Russ had said. Could Ray be HIV Positive? And Tom the same? Ray certainly looked very healthy, but did that mean anything?

Then again, Russ said very cynical things about older guys. He doubted any stated motive they claimed for anything. Thought all they wanted if they so much as spoke to a younger guy was to get into his pants. Well Russ was an idiot. Ray had never tried to get into Patrick's pants. Patrick trusted him.

"So where's the rest of the gang?" Ray said. "If it's just you and Phil?"

"Most are away for the Easter break. Students, you know. Colin and Nick are away too."

"And what about David?"

Patrick grimaced, still annoyed at his plans with David being derailed, however much fun he anticipated with Phil.

"He's away on business." He gave Ray a narrow look. "How'd you know about me and David anyway?"

"It's my club, I know what goes on here," Ray said. He smiled. "You look damn good together."

Patrick laughed. "You should have seen us in our best suits." He didn't know if the suit David wore to the French restaurant was his best one, but it made a good line and Ray laughed again.

"Maybe one day. If I get an invitation."

Patrick at once got a picture in his mind of himself and David with suits, roses, clasped hands... and scowled at his own idiocy. Okay, better get that bullshit out of his head right now. Romantic fool he might be, but there were limits.

"Pat," Ray said, "I was kidding."

Patrick forced himself to relax, and laughed. "I know. Just, ah, getting ahead of myself there for a second." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better go. See you, Ray."

"Goodnight, Patrick. Have a good weekend. Say hi to Phil."

Patrick left, hurrying to the station. The Thursday night crowds around the bars of the Triangle gave way to the boy-girl couples of the rest of the city centre, and groups of lads and lasses out for fun. Busier than a usual Thursday, as it had been in the Circle tonight. People out earlier, with the four day weekend ahead.

Patrick was looking forward to a lazy day tomorrow, before the fun started with Phil on Friday night. Phil's mother was going for a weekend break in Whitby, with her sister. She'd be leaving tomorrow morning, and Phil would be free until late on Monday.

Gonna be great, Patrick thought. He deserves some fun and I'm gonna show him a good time. Not the kind of good time he'd have shown David, but fun!

Feeling peckish, Patrick popped into the Chinese take-away on his way from the station to home. He wouldn't keep his boyish figure if he did that too often, he knew. But an early weekend, a long weekend, allowed for certain indulgences. Burn off plenty of calories at the Circle this weekend anyway.

The TV above the counter was tuned to a football match and he watched that while he waited, until his phone chirped and he slid it open to see a message from Colin.

'Arrived Prague. Beer cheap, women hot. See u next week. Dont drink my home brew. Bye'

Patrick had decided after the hangover he woke with after his first and only session with Colin's home brew that he'd never be thirsty enough to do that again. Smiling, he sent a message back.

'Didnt drink hb, but it brought the oven up luvly'

The woman at the counter called his order and he picked up the white plastic bag, said goodnight and headed up the road. Damn dark on this street, he thought, cursing the council for the sparse and dim street lamps that should have been replaced sometime in the nineteen-seventies.

But he reached the house without tripping in the dark and breaking his neck and turned up the garden path, fishing his key out of his pocket. A car door slammed somewhere behind him, which he thought nothing of, until he heard the garden gate's distinctive squeak behind him.

He spun around to see a tall figure, a man, walking up the path. It was too dark to see his face, and Patrick took a few steps backwards.

"Who's that?" he demanded, just as his back struck the door. The movement-sensitive light above it came on, illuminating the man on the path. Patrick gasped. His keys and take-away supper slipped from his hands.

"Simon?"