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Identity Check Chapter 24 |
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Oh, hell, Patrick thought,
as he reached in his pocket for his phone, which wasn't there. Of course not.
It was in the kitchen bin back home. What the hell kind of idiotic
over-dramatic gesture was that? "Phil," he
said, leaning across the desk. "Can I borrow your mobile?" "Something happened
to your phone again?" "I left it at
home." He didn't mention exactly where. "I need to make a personal
call. I'm going to take my break now." "Oh, okay."
Phil looked disappointed. The two of them usually went on their breaks together,
had a stroll, got a coffee. Lunches too. And normally, Patrick would be glad
of that, so he could talk to Phil about the latest complications in his life.
But Phil deserved a break from Patrick's whining today. He looked tired this
morning and Patrick guessed he must be having a rough time with his mother. "Don't read my
texts," Phil said, handing over his phone. "Of course
not." Frankly, he could die a happy man without ever reading another
text message again. He decided to go outside, to get some privacy, and tapped
in the number. "Simon, it's
me." "Oh, hey, Pat. How's
it going?" "Not so good."
He sighed. "David is still being a pain in the arse. He's following me
around and sending me texts and calling me and he won't fucking stop. And I'm
just... I've had enough of him and of... lots of stuff." "That guy's still
chasing you?" "He won't stop. I
don't know what I'm supposed to do. Get a restraining order maybe. I don't
know." "Maybe you should go
back to him." Patrick stopped walking,
not sure he'd heard right. "Say that again." "Sounds like he's
pretty keen to get you back if he's still calling. Maybe you should give him
a chance." "Give him a... What
the hell are you talking about? He beat me up! He's not chasing me to get me
back, he's stalking me to make me miserable!" "Oh, yeah, sorry. I
was thinking of someone else." Yeah, he was thinking of
someone else all right. Himself. He never thought about anyone but himself. "Do you ever
actually listen to a word I say?" "You going to be
long? I'm busy working." It was a good thing this
was someone else's phone, or Patrick would drop kick it into the nearby
ornamental duck pond. "Simon, how can you
tell me to get back with someone if it means we can't see each other. I mean,
what about us?" "Oh, don't worry
about that. Erm, turns out my agent wants me to go back to America for
another couple of months. My New York show did so well, he's organising one
in LA." "You're leaving
again?" Funny wasn't it, how Simon seemed to have a reason to duck out
of town, out of the country even, when Patrick started getting a little
too... demanding? Of course, Simon's idea of someone being too 'demanding' in
a relationship was them expecting him to call them by the right name in bed. Simon didn't want him for
anything but sex. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't love Patrick. He
wanted to draw him and to fuck him and he wanted him to go away afterwards
and not ask anything of Simon. He wasn't even a friend. "So, yeah,"
Simon went on. "I'll be out of here in a couple of days. But if you like
I could drive up and see you before I go. We could meet at that guest house
-" "Oh, just fuck off,
Simon." He snapped the clamshell phone closed a bit too hard and winced.
Not my phone, he reminded himself. Taking more care, he put it in his pocket
and started walking back to the office. If Simon actually cared about him,
wanted to make something of their relationship, he'd call back and try to
straighten things out. But the phone stayed silent in his pocket as he headed
back to the office, via the coffee shop. "Thanks for
that," Patrick said, handing Phil his phone back, and then putting a paper
coffee cup down beside him. "Got you a latte." "Oh, thanks, you
didn't have to." "My treat.
Here." He handed over sugar packets and a plastic stirrer and sat down
with his own drink - hot chocolate. For a moment he sat stirring it, glumly,
then seeing Gwen moving around the desks, started tapping at his keyboard, bringing
up his work list, trying to look busy. "Pat," Phil
said, quietly. "You had a face like thunder when you came back in just
then. Everything okay?" Patrick sighed. "Not
really. But, nothing you can do about it for me. Nothing anyone can do. Just
got to..." he shook his head. "Nothing you can do." "I can listen,"
Phil said. When Patrick didn't answer, he went on. "Did you see that
email earlier? About going for a few pints after work? Why don't we go along?
Unwind a bit? I get the feeling we could both use it." Patrick sighed. The two
of them didn't go out with the work crowd much, the straights didn't seem
like as much fun. But hell, why not? Patrick could certainly use some
unwinding and Phil was always good company. "Right after work?
Sounds good to me." * So much for the straights
being the ones who weren't much fun. Patrick and Phil sat in the corner, with
a crowd of their workmates and pretty much just watched them have fun, while
they nursed a couple of pints of lager and grew ever more morose. They did talk eventually.
Patrick, knowing he was repeating himself, going over again what he'd talked
about to Phil before. David, David, David. Simon, Simon, Simon. He was too tipsy
to make himself shut up. He wasn't so drunk that he mentioned anything about
Russ though and how he'd let Russ use him last night. Phil and Russ. What did
they have anyway? Best friends, but was there more? They'd 'practised' on
each other Russ had said and Patrick wondered how far that had gone. Maybe
Phil was secretly in love with Russ. That's the way it worked on TV, didn't
it? The ordinary looking bloke in love with his much better looking friend.
And he could never find happiness with anyone else, because he was carrying
that torch for his best friend. Phil smiled at him, a
weak half-hearted effort, and Patrick realised he was just sitting here just
looking at Phil, as he played out the possibilities in his mind about him and
Russ. He pulled himself together and sighed. "I dunno, Phil.
Maybe it is time I went to the police about David. What else can I
do?" "Have him killed. If
I was on the jury, I wouldn't convict you." "Very funny." "Get some of the
bouncers from the Circle to go round and paste him. They'd do anything for
you. They all love you." "They do not all
love me." "Please. Even the
straight ones love you." "I suppose I am
totally irresistible," Patrick said, chuckling now, Phil's crazy
suggestions cheering him up. "Maybe I need to find whoever vandalised
his car and get them to go and do the same to him." "Sorry," Phil
said. "I'm pretty sure he's stronger than me." "Yeah, I..."
Patrick's mind took a second to catch up, whether due to beer, or just
because of the shock of what he'd heard, he didn't know. But his voice
petered out as his brain caught up with what Phil said. He gaped and Phil
blushed and looked away. "You...
you keyed his car? Are you
kidding?" Phil looked back at him,
face flushed. "It was after I'd seen you. You were so beaten up, and
when I thought of what he could have done..." Patrick looked around, a
couple of people were earwigging a bit on their suddenly intriguing
conversation. "Let's, um, go talk
somewhere more private," he said, quietly. They found a spot in a
hallway, beside the dusty payphone, which saw little use these days. "You're not kidding
me are you, Phil? You really did it." "Yes. After I left
your place, I think I went a bit mad. Like I had blood in my eyes or
something. I went to his building. I was going to... well, confront
him." "What? But he could
have hurt you!" "I... I know, and I
sort of came to my senses when I got there. I thought, well he beat you up
and we're about the same weight and height, so he'd have had no problem doing
the same to me, would he? Then I saw his car parked up. Couldn't mistake
it." That fucking yellow
Porsche Spider. Hard to confuse with anything else. "I don't know what
came over me, but I just sort of found myself walking alongside it, with my
house keys out and... It's a really weird noise. And then, well, I got
towards the front and the wing mirror was right there... just kind of asking
for it." "My god, Phil! You
could have got into big trouble." "I know. But he
deserved it. He deserved worse." He grew angry now, scowling, losing the
sheepish look. "He hurt you. I couldn't stand that, Patrick, I couldn't
stand for it. I couldn't just not do anything about it." His
voice shook, with anger and... something else, he looked on the verge of tears
suddenly. "Hey," Patrick
said, alarmed at Phil's sudden agitation. "It's okay." He put a
hand on Phil's shoulder. "I understand. You were angry. I'm glad you did
it. Flattered I mean. You're a mad bastard, but you're a good friend." And then he stared, when
Phil made a choked sound and he turned away, covering his eyes with his hand. "That's why you
think I did it?" He turned to look back at Patrick, eyes bright with
tears. "You have a lot of friends, Patrick, a lot. Enough to chop his
car into tiny bit if they wanted. I didn't do this out of... of friendship.
Can you not see that?" "Oh, God, Phil, what
are you saying?" "I know I'm a fool
and you're way out of my league, but I can't make it stop, I can't control
what I feel. Patrick, I love you." Too astonished to react,
Patrick didn't stop him as Phil stepped up, pressing him back against the
wall and kissing him on the mouth. But he regained control a moment later and
pushed Phil back. This was not a gay pub, there were people around, colleagues
of theirs. Oh, shit, one of the guys from the office passed by right then,
giving them a narrow-eyed look. Great, just fucking great. "No, don't," he
said, fending Phil off as he tried to move in again. "We can't, not
here." "Then let's go! To
your place or mine. Somewhere we can talk, please." "I don't think I
can, I don't... oh, God, Phil, I didn't know you felt this way. I'm such a
complete fool." "No, no, it's my
fault. I should have said something before now. But, I knew you were too good
for me." "Stop saying
that!" "Come on, we both
know it's true. I know I've got no chance with you. I tried to forget it, let
it go, and then you met David and you were happy. But when that fell apart,
oh, God, then I just couldn't stop thinking about you, about us, praying it
could happen." Patrick raised his hands
to his mouth, feeling sick, thinking of all the flirting they'd done, all the
banter, and the dancing - oh my God the dancing! He'd thought it was all just
in fun, but Phil had meant it and Patrick had been too much of a blockhead to
realise. "I'm so sorry, Phil.
I've led you on so much, teased you. Might as well have ripped your heart out
and stamped on it. I'm sorry." "Pat..." Phil
scrubbed his hand across his eyes, sniffed loudly, trying to regain control.
He stepped close, and put one hand around the back of Patrick's neck, stroked
his hair. "It's okay. I should have said something long ago. But I knew
if I did, well, you'd probably stay away from me then, and I couldn't stand
that. Being close to you is like... torture and bliss both at once. But being
away from you would only be the torture part." He leaned in again, for a
soft and gentle kiss this time, but Patrick didn't dare let it last longer
than a second or two. This couldn't go on, encouraging him like this. They
couldn't be together that way. It wasn't that Phil wasn't good enough for him
- he hoped he wasn't quite that shallow - but he just didn't have those
feelings for Phil. "Phil, no." He
said, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. "You're such a good
friend. Maybe my best friend. I'd never have made it through all this shit
without you. If we... if we get together, everything will change and then
eventually, we'll break up and I'll never see you again. That's not what I want.
I want things the way they are." "I don't think
things can stay the same any more." Phil's face had become utterly
bleak, devastated. He must have waited so long to say this, and Patrick had destroyed
all his hopes and dreams. It horrified him that he had the power to hurt
someone so badly. Someone he cared about, someone who deserved so much
better. Of everything Patrick had done this last year, every sin, nothing
shamed him more than this. "Oh, shit, look at
the state of me," Phil said, finding a tissue in his pocket and blowing
his nose. "Well, fuck, that was a total mess. I'm sorry, Patrick. I...
well, you know how I feel now, and I know how you feel and I suppose that's it.
I'd... I'd do everything in my power to make you happy, not like those other
bastards who've wasted your time. But if you don't feel it, then you don't
feel it." "I wish I did, Phil.
You're worth ten of any of them. I'm the fool. You're the one out of my
league. Far too good for me." "I suppose I should
say 'flattery will get you everywhere' now, but I'm not in the mood."
Phil combed his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. "I'd better
just go home. I'll see you on Monday." "Phil, wait,
please." But he didn't wait. He
strode out of the pub, without looking back. And did Patrick really want him
to wait? Or did he just feel as if he should call him back, try to mend this?
He
groaned and buried his head in his hands. This probably couldn't be mended. It was over with Phil.
They'd go on being friends, but always cautious and keeping each other at
arm's length. And eventually they'd drift apart. When you didn't really trust
each other with the truth any more, that was inevitable. Why had he been so blind?
If he'd seen earlier what was going on, could his feelings have developed and
changed? Phil was... he was great and love didn't have to be a bolt of
lightning, did it? It could sneak up on you. Pulling himself together,
he left the pub. Where would Phil have gone from here? The Metro station? Or
for a bus? Or the taxi office over the road. Patrick really didn't want to
run into him; the awkwardness would be horrible. So he started walking. It
was a long way home from here, but a fine night, the sun still out and he
could use some time to think. * It was dark when he
reached home, footsore, hungry, thirsty and with his back aching. He found
the place a study hall again, the same group as before, Nick, Colin and Russ.
Russ looked speculatively
at him, but Patrick didn't want a repeat of last night. He wasn't in the mood
and he no longer trusted Russ not to try it. In fact after what he'd learned
tonight, he no longer trusted Russ at all. Russ must know about Phil's
feelings for Patrick, but he'd gone ahead and had sex with him anyway. In the kitchen, Patrick
heated a can of soup, buttered some bread and sat at the table to eat it.
This table felt so big when he sat there alone. An absurd feeling when it
felt so small with only Nick and Colin sharing it. But now he felt very much
alone. Was there someone he
could talk to? Anyone? He thought about Ray. But did he really trust Ray not
to do the same thing as Russ did last night? He was a man. Most of them, us, took
the opportunity for sex when it was offered. Not that Patrick would be
offering sex, but if Ray took him in his arms and if Patrick felt weak
enough, tempted enough, it could happen. And that would make him a
real bastard, wouldn't it? Maybe breaking up Ray and Tom, or at least
damaging their relationship. An important relationship. Not just to them, to
Patrick too. They showed him it was possible for men to live together that
way and not just chase an endless string of one night stands. Something had
to counterbalance the cynical view Russ gave him last night, that most
relationships would die. So no, he'd stay away
from Ray. Just in case. Just in case something happened and he screwed up
someone else's life, the way he'd screwed up Phil's and his own mother's. It seemed so long since
he'd thought about his mother. Of course, he actively tried to keep her out
of his mind, because he knew she was right, didn't he? He'd been so angry and
defiant at first, determined to prove her wrong. But all he'd done was prove
her right. He'd screwed up royally so many times, and now he'd hurt Phil
deeply. Phil, who treated his own mother with the kind of devotion and love
Patrick so clearly lacked. He finished his soup and
washed the bowl, the bread plate, a knife, a spoon and the glass he'd used
for some juice. Usually he left things to dry on the draining board, but this
time, he dried them and put them away in the cupboards. Then he went upstairs to
pack. |
© E Charles 2009