Identity Check

Chapter 2

Patrick dropped all his gear on the step and thumbed the doorbell of the tall terraced house in Newcastle. He groaned and massaged his shoulders, sore from carrying his heavy backpack. This leaving home thing was not everything it was cracked up to be. Sweating and aching, especially his feet, Patrick wanted a shower, a cold drink, a decent meal and then a bed with cool, cool sheets. After a moment, a young blond man opened the door and stared at him.

"Pat?"

"Hi, Nick." Patrick smiled wanly at his cousin.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, bloody hell, come in. You look terrible!" Nick grabbed Patrick's gear and hauled it inside as Patrick came in and then followed Nick into the kitchen. Nick started filling the kettle.

"Sit down," Nick said. "I wasn't kidding, you do look awful."

Patrick sank into a kitchen chair, and slumped forward, leaning on the table, wanting to just put his head down on his arms and sleep.

"I've had a bad week. I've left home."

Nick glanced out into the hallway, at the luggage out there. "Yeah, I sort of guessed that."

"I need somewhere to stay and I remembered what you said in that email last week about that other boy pulling out of your house-share. Did you find a replacement yet? Because if not..."

"Hang on... hang on! You're going too fast for me. You want to move in here?"

"Is the room still available? Do you think Colin would mind?"  He meant Nick's housemate, Colin Parker, another student.

"It's still available, but... Pat, this is nuts. Aren't you still at school? What about the rent and board?"

"Forget school. I'll get a job."

Nick shook his head, baffled. "What's happened? What's brought this on?" He sat down at the table, all serious and sympathetic. Would he still feel that way when Patrick told him? Nick's side of the family might not be as fanatically Catholic as Marion, or religious at all actually. But still, he was normal. Of course he'd be disgusted.

"I've had a row with my mother. A big row. And Alistair." His step-father an afterthought there. Why should Patrick care what he thought? "And I couldn't stay there, because she... I couldn't stay."

"What was the row about?"

Patrick took a deep breath and his voice dropped, so Nick had to lean forward to hear. Did it count if you said it so low that nobody heard? Oh hell, say it, just get it over.

"I'm gay."

He couldn't look at Nick now, too afraid of the disgust and condemnation he'd surely see there.

"So they found out?"

It wasn't the question Patrick expected. He looked up. No condemnation there, no disgust. He was just listening, interested, caring.

"You're... not surprised?"

Nick shrugged. "Been thinking you might be for a few years now."

"That's ridiculous!" Patrick protested, gaping. "How could you know a few years ago? I didn't know then!"

"You knew, Pat," Nick said, quiet and serious. "You knew."

Patrick sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I suppose you're right. I'm pretty good at the denial thing. But how did you know?"

Nick shrugged again. "Just a vibe I suppose. You talk about girls, but you're never quite convincing."

"I've been out with girls." He'd tried to be normal, asked girls out. But he never felt comfortable with them, not when it got to the point they expected something from him, and he didn't really know what. "But I could never quite convince them either."

"So how did your mother find out?"

"She looked at my phone, at my messages and there were some there from my..." What the hell did he call him? Boyfriend. That sounded ridiculous. Lover? That sounded almost obscene. "From a man I've been... seeing."

"She snooped on your phone? That's outrageous!"

"Um, the phone isn't really the problem. I'm pretty much over that."

"Yeah, right," Nick said. "So, she went up in a sheet of blue flame, I suppose."

Patrick winced. Yeah, could say that. "She says it's evil. That I'll go to hell, that I'm not right in the head. She even brought in this damn priest who has some place I can go for him to 'cure' me."

"How can he cure you?"

"He's a psychiatrist apparently."

Nick snorted. "Then he should know better."

"That's when I knew I had to get away. I had to." The words started to tumble out. "She's made all these threats against my... him, the man, saying she'll go to the police. She thinks we've been doing it for years. Since I was under-age I mean."

Nick looked uncomfortable, but held Patrick's gaze. "Have you?"

"No! It only started a few weeks ago."

"So, who's the guy?"

"I can't..." Did Nick really want to know that? Why would someone normal like him want to hear about something so sordid? "God, Nick, I can't tell you this stuff!" He stood up, chair squealing on the tiled floor, turning away from the table. Seconds later, Nick appeared at his side, put a hand on his shoulder.

"You can tell me anything," Nick said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

They were. Their mothers were sisters and at times Nick and Patrick had been more like brothers than cousins. He'd missed Nick most of all when he moved away from London. He could trust Nick.

"Do you remember me telling you about the artist who's been painting me for the last few years?"

"Yes, of course. Simon something. Wait, it's him?"

Patrick nodded and winced when he saw the shock on Nick's face.

"He's, ah, quite a bit older than you, isn't he?"

"He's thirty-two. Look, I know there's an age gap. It's not a problem." Clearly it was a problem for some people, but it wasn't for Patrick. What would he have preferred for his first time? Some fumbling in the dark with another boy as scared and inexperienced as him? Or an experienced man – who happened to be in great shape – who could make love to him and teach him so much?

"Okay." Nick hesitated, then went on. "So where's he now? Did you break up?"

"No! God, no, I –" Hell, shut up! He couldn't declare his love for Simon right to Nick's face! He'd made a big enough fool of himself here already. "He had to go to New York for a few weeks and he left just before all this blew up. I've been trying to call him, but I don't know if he's getting his messages over there."

"If he'd been here, would you have gone to him rather than come here?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't want to get him into trouble."

"Why would he get into trouble? You're over the age of consent."

"Yes, but... Alistair is a big man in that village, Nick. He could make things very difficult for Simon. He probably still will." He hung his head, rubbed his eyes. "I'm just a fucking jinx on everyone's lives."

"Knock that off."

Nick slapped him on the arm, enough to make him look up. But Patrick couldn't reply, his throat too tight. His eyes burned and he took a deep breath to try to stay calm. Perhaps Nick saw his distress; he looked away and cleared his throat.

"Well you should get some rest, Stretch, because you look as if you haven't slept in a month."

"What I really want right now is a shower." Patrick's voice came out shaky and he fought for control, pasted on a weak smile. "And don't call me Stretch."

"Sorry," Nick grinned, not at all sorry. "Okay, so go and take a shower. Take your time. Once you're done, we'll have something to eat and try to figure all this out. I think Colin will be back by then."

"Thanks, Nick... just... thanks. I didn't know where else to go and..." he choked off and Nick, serious again, squeezed his shoulder.

"Pat, you're safe here. You understand? You're safe here." Then he smiled again. "Now come on, I'll show you the bathroom and... well, hell, your bedroom."

"Then I can stay?"

"For now. But we'll have to talk about this with Colin and just kind of think about it for a few days, right?"

"That's all I ask."

*

The shower washed away more than the grime and sweat. All the pain and hatred of the last week drained away too. He was more welcome here than in his own home. He'd taken a first step on a new path. By the time he dried off, he felt almost optimistic.

Until he looked at the shaving gear on the shelf over the sink. How did Nick really feel about this? How would Colin, his house-mate, feel? Nick hadn't seemed repelled or disgusted, but maybe he was just hiding it, out of family affection. Colin would have no reason to do that.

Patrick dressed and then brushed his hair. Did his long hair make him look girly? It hadn't made Dad look girly. But Dad had a stronger face. Wrong question. He didn't look like a girl - too tall and bony for that. The real question was, did his long hair make him look gay? So what if it did? He was gay. But did he want to advertise that fact to the entire world?

If he'd had a pair of scissors to hand he might have done something foolish in that moment. But instead he swept the hair back, put on his shoes and went downstairs.

Nick was still in the kitchen, working by the stove now, chopping vegetables and tossing them into a steaming pot. Another young man was in there with him and Patrick recognised Colin Parker from pictures Nick had posted on the Internet.

"Hi, Patrick!" Colin said, offering his hand and a warm grin. "Great to meet you in person at last. Nick says you want to move in."

"Cuts to the chase, doesn't he?" Nick said.

"I like that," Patrick said, smiling back at Colin and shaking his hand. "Yes. I want to move in. Are you okay with that?"

Colin looked Patrick up and down, assessing. "You smoke?"

"No."

"Snore loud enough to shake the house?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you bring home saucy girls who wander around the house at breakfast time in only their undies?"

"Colin!" Nick protested. Patrick laughed at the question.

"No!"

"Oh well," Colin said with a shrug. "Two out of three ain't bad."

God, if he only knew. What if he hated gays? But Nick wouldn't be friends with someone like that, would he? One thing you could say about Nick, he was as politically correct as they came. If he visited a fortune teller they'd predict that one day he'd have a subscription to the Guardian.

Should he say something now? Was that only fair, so that Colin had time to object? Or at least so Patrick could see if he was going to object. It would be horrible to move in, tell him later and be stuck in a hostile atmosphere. And Nick would stand up for Patrick and then Colin and Nick wouldn't be friends any more. He'd tear more relationships apart. He realised Nick was waiting, with an expectant look on his face. Waiting to see if Patrick had the courage.

"Actually, Colin, I'm gay."

Did it get easier, to say those words? He hoped so, because this 'coming out' thing didn't seem to be a one time deal. You had to keep doing it. He saw Nick smile and nod. Proud of you, that smile said.

He held his breath, the moment stretching out. Colin had been taking a drink of tea and Patrick expected him to spit it across the room. Instead he lowered his mug and shrugged.

"Okay. Well, if you think you can get a job and cover the rent it sounds good to me."

And that was it. Did he avoid the subject? Or did he just not care? How could anyone not care?

"Patrick, are you sure about this?" Nick still looked dubious. "Don't decide things too quick."

"I'm sure."

"Stop nagging the boy," Colin said, shaking his hand again, sealing the deal. "Welcome aboard, Patrick. Just fair warning. If you don't get a job in a month, we're going to make you go on the game, is that okay?"

"I don't think that's helping," Nick snapped.

But Patrick chuckled. He felt good about this choice. This wasn't just the right thing to do, it could be fun too. He'd drifted away from most of his friends in the last few years. His secret drove a wedge between them. But Nick and Colin already knew his secret. This could work.

Patrick went to bed right after dinner. He'd have liked to stay up to chat and get to know Colin better, but the exhaustion hit him and Nick ordered him to bed with all the authority of a year and a couple of weeks of medical school.

"You're not a doctor yet," Patrick had reminded him, but was too tired to argue.

In his room he realised he had brought no pyjamas with him. Nick or Colin could have loaned him some, he supposed, but he was too tired to ask, so just stripped to his shorts and flopped into bed. He turned off the light, but before he closed his eyes he took out his mobile phone. There were messages from his mother, wanting to know where he was.

At Nick's. Safe

He hoped that reply would hold her for now and that he wouldn't wake up tomorrow to find her on the doorstep. No messages from Simon. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. Why the hell didn't Simon call back? Patrick needed to talk to him.

The messages that had given away their relationship were all still on the phone. Which he supposed made this whole situation his own damn fault. He should have erased them. But they were from Simon. He read them again now, as he had dozens of times already, and let his mind drift over the short, precious time they'd had together. Patrick had been so afraid, but Simon had been so confident and yet gentle and patient. He didn't rush.

"I've waited years for this," he'd said that first time. His big hand, rough-skinned, stained with paint, ran slowly down Patrick's side as the two of them lay naked in Simon's bed. It stopped on Patrick's hip, finger nails teasing the smooth skin there. "I'm in no hurry."

Patrick closed the phone and in a moment its light cut out, leaving him in darkness. He fell asleep with the most important thing he'd heard today repeating in his mind.

Safe here. Safe here. Safe here.

*

He slept until after ten the next morning and Nick and Colin must have long since gone to the university when he came down to find himself some breakfast.

One thing he couldn't find was proper coffee, only instant. Barbarians. Right, first job to do – shopping. There was a small supermarket up the road and a shopping list stuck on the front of the fridge. Might as well make a good impression as a house-mate and get the things on the list. And perhaps some treats. To make an even better impression.

He forgot about the shopping when he arrived at the supermarket and saw the notice board. Vacancies. Paying his share of the rent would make the best impression of all. Glad he'd ironed his clothes before putting them on, he tied his hair back, found a staff member and gave her his best smile.

"Hi. Who do I talk to about the vacancies you've got advertised?"

*

When he got home from university later, Nick took Patrick into the kitchen for a private talk. Uh-oh, Patrick thought, seeing the serious look.

"I talked to my mum today," Nick said. "She said that if you want to, you can go and stay with them. They'd get you into a school or college so you can finish your A Levels and -"

"I got a job."

"What?"

"In the supermarket up the road. It's just stacking shelves, but it will keep me going while I find something better."

"But... Look, Pat, you know I want you here, we'll have a great time... but..."

"I can't go back to school, Nick. You don't know what it's like." He shook his head. Thank God it had never come out at school! He'd seen the way boys even suspected to being 'poofs' were treated. "It's not a good place for boys like me."

"You can't let that stop you getting an education," Nick insisted, sounding stern and very much like his father, Patrick's uncle, John Mason. But Patrick still shook his head.

"Maybe I'll go back next year. But not now. Right now I need to stand on my own feet. To be a man."

"Pat, you don't have to prove anything."

"Yes. I do."