Identity Check Chapter 31

Identity Check

Chapter 31

Was this a dramatic gesture?

Patrick had to wonder that as he walked into the supermarket he knew Phil went to every Saturday morning. Shouldn't he just wait and go round to Phil's house and ask to talk later? But after an exhausted sleep he'd woken at dawn and been unable to wait any longer. He had to find Phil.

Should he go and search the store? This place was huge, he could miss Phil, who might go through the checkouts and leave before Patrick found him.

Instead he bought a newspaper and lurked by the exit. Phil had to come this way. Then he began to wonder if he'd moved on from behaving like Simon to behaving like David. Could this be less a dramatic gesture and more stalking?

When Phil appeared from the bank of checkouts, trolley full of shopping bags, Patrick stopped wondering and dumped the newspaper in a nearby bin. Phil saw him and stopped, staring. A woman following nearly barged him with her trolley and told him to watch out, so Phil pushed again and Patrick fell into step beside him as he came out of the exit doors.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Phil said.

"I'm sorry. I know it looks like I'm following you around. But I need to talk and I couldn't wait any longer."

"Because it's all about what you want, isn't it?"

Patrick bristled at the sarcastic tone, but he swallowed down the anger, knowing Phil was just trying to make him leave. He kept on walking as Phil pushed his trolley into the car park. Patrick glanced at the disabled parking spaces near the entrance, but knew that without his mother in the car, Phil would never use her parking permit. Instead he headed off down the rows of cars, Patrick following.

"No, it's not all about what I want," Patrick said. "But what I want is the only thing I can talk about with any authority. What anyone else wants, I can't tell. I never could and I still can't. So, please, Phil, explain it to me."

"I don't owe you an explanation." He stopped at his car and unlocked the boot.

"No. You're right. You don't owe it to me, but I'm asking you, because I want to understand."

"Understand what exactly?"

"What you feel about me." The two of them lifted all the carrier bags into the boot of the car and Phil slammed it closed. He didn't answer the question. Taking a chance that Phil wouldn't drive away while he was gone, Patrick got rid of the trolley in one of the small shelters dotted around the car park, and returned to find Phil leaning on the car, arms folded, deep in thought. He stood up straight when Patrick came back.

"Get in the car," he said. "I won't air this to the whole of Tesco's car park."

The invitation to share that cramped and intimate space felt like a small triumph, and Patrick took him up on it, getting in the passenger seat, while Phil got in the driver's seat.

"Okay," Phil said. "You want to know how I feel? I feel the exact same way I did before. I love you."

Patrick wanted to grin, but kept the serious look on his face. He knew Phil had more to say.

"But I don't trust you."

"I don't think I've ever lied to you, Phil."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I don't trust you not to hurt me again. I'm not talking about the rejection. If you don't feel it, then you don't. But you left, Pat. You just up and left and all I could think of was that it was my fault."

"It wasn't! I was under so much pressure. There were a dozen reasons -"

"Please, let me finish."

"Sorry." When would he learn to shut the hell up and just listen? "Go on."

"You don't know what I went through weeks after that. I'd driven you away. Every day I wished to God I'd kept my mouth shut. People at work kept asking me about you. When Nick told me where you were, and why you were there, I thought I'd ruined your whole life. I thought the priest would mess you up permanently and it was my fault!"

His voice rose, shaking and Patrick wanted to at least touch his shoulder, to comfort him. But he didn't feel that he had permission yet to touch Phil, so kept his hands to himself.

"You can't blame yourself, Phil, please."

"The fact is, I did. Justified or not, I did. I don't know what I'd have done without my mum, and Russ and Nick."

"Nick?"

"I told him about what happened between us. He's been a good friend to me the last few months."

"He's a great guy."

"Yeah. Well, the point is, I had a rough few months because of that. Because of you. And I'm not prepared to go through it again. I have responsibilities. I have to be strong." He looked at Patrick. "You make me weak."

Patrick thought he would weep. Phil would choose staying lonely but strong rather than allow Patrick into his life and get hurt again. He'd choose that not because of himself, but because of his mother, because she relied on his strength.

"Phil, I have no intention of hurting you again. I want to try and make it work between us. I've been thinking about it. Since that kiss, at the retreat, I can't get you out of my mind."

"No, Pat. You don't love me. You said that."

"That was a long time ago now. Things have changed."

"I don't believe you." Phil gripped the steering wheel in both hands. His knuckles had gone white, though his tone remained calm. "This is about pity. Or guilt."

"No, it's not!"

"Or it's worse. You want me because I'm safe. I won't beat you up. I won't cheat on you, because I'd be so grateful even to have you." He looked at Patrick. "You want me because you think you can control me."

"No."

"And then one day, some handsome bastard who makes your blood sing will appear and you'll be telling me that you still love me, but we should just be friends."

"Is this what you think I am, Phil? So shallow? So selfish? If that's true then how can you say you love me at all?"

"Because you make my blood sing. You're not like the others, the ones I could fall out of love with once I saw what they were really like. I can't control what I feel about you. But I can control what I allow you to do to me."

"All I want to do is make you happy."

"I don't see it happening. Chances are greater that you'll make me miserable."

"When did you get so cynical, Phil?"

"What? I've always been cynical."

"No, you haven't. Despite it all, despite the crap life served up to you, you had hope."

"Well, when the hell do you think that changed, Pat?"

"No, this isn't you. This is your pain talking. You're scared of taking a chance on me again – I can't blame you for that – and you're letting your pain make you cynical. But that's not really you. And it's my fault you're defending yourself like this. So it's my job to put it right."

"You can't fix me. You can't fix my life."

"If you let me –"

The sound of Phil's phone beeping with a text message interrupted him. Phil took it from his pocket and read the message.

"I have to go and pick my mum up from the leisure centre."

He looked at Patrick and Patrick knew right away that he was being tested. If he tried to delay Phil's going, then he was just another selfish guy who expected Phil to drop his responsibilities and orbit around him instead. So Patrick had to be anyone but that guy.

"Okay." He took hold of the door handle. "Can we talk again later?"

Phil stared, then nodded. "Okay. I won't change my mind though."

"Maybe you will," Patrick said, opening the door and getting out. He leaned between the door and the frame for a moment, looking back into the car, as Phil started it up. "Do me a favour. Ask your mum what she thinks about this." He got the feelings Mrs Jordan might have a different perspective. And possibly a clip round the ear for her stubborn son. That made him chuckle, and he closed the door without waiting for a reply and strode away towards the Metro station.

Phil's car passed him a few seconds later and tooted the horn. Patrick waved and thought for just a second that Phil smiled at him.

Patrick took the Metro back to Nick's place and found everyone was out. Since he had no keys, he stood in the garden, in the shade of Basil and Sybil and took out his phone. It only smelled a little bit funny from the time it had spent in the bin. Well, one difficult conversation down, or at least partly, another to go.

Patrick called his mother.

"Patrick! Where are you? Father Powell called me and said you left."

"I'm back in Newcastle. I'm at Nick's."

"Patrick, please, you must go back to the retreat! I know it was hard, but it was working, you were changing. Or come home, let us talk, please."

In a way she was right. He had changed. But not in the way she wanted. "Sorry, Mum, I'm not going back there. But I'll come and see you in a couple of weeks, and explain things."

"Oh, Patrick," she said, sighing. "I don't know what to say any more." Her voice caught and he hoped she didn't start to cry.

"I know. I'm sorry that I'm not the man you hoped I'd be. But I have to be me, Mum. I don't know who else to be."

"What are you going to do now? Are you staying there? Are you moving back in with Nick?"

"No." He looked up at the house. He'd loved living here, but he'd gone past that phase now too. Terry could keep the room. "No. I'm going to get somewhere else. I'll get myself sorted with a job, maybe go to college, finish my A-Levels."

"You could come back home and do that. Go back to school for a year."

School? That sounded ridiculous. Even the oldest of the kids would seem like children to him. No. Absurd.

"I can't do that, Mum. And living in the village isn't going to change what I am." Especially not with Simon living there. No, going home wouldn't help, even if he wanted to be what his mother wanted for him.

Besides, he'd learnt something else important here. How to stand on his own two feet. He wouldn't give that up.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I've got plans. I'm fine." He was a man now. His mother's home was a place to visit. It wasn't his home any more. "I have to go now."

"I can't promise not to worry about you," she said, her voice softer, not edged with distress any more. "And I can't accept your. . . lifestyle, Patrick. But I won't turn you away if you come to see me."

"Love the sinner, hate the sin, eh, Mum?"

"I'll never stop loving you, Patrick. You're my baby boy."

It took him a moment to answer, throat tight, voice choked, when he finally managed to speak. "I love you too, Mum. I'll call you in a couple of days."

He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket. She didn't approve, that was clear. But one day, just maybe. . . But she still loved him; that's what mattered. Even if she never accepted who he was, he could forgive her. It was a sincerely held belief after all, not simple prejudice. She had a right to believe it. Who was he to insist she went against her faith just because it suited him? As hard as it would be to have this between them, he respected her right to her faith and beliefs.

Well, he still wasn't getting into the house, so strolled up the road to the coffee shop where he found Terry sweeping up around the tables outside. Of course, he said he'd got a job here. Probably just walked in, flashed that cheeky smile and fell into the job.

"Hey, where'd you go rushing off to so early?" Terry asked.

"Just had to see someone." He could ask Terry for the house keys, but the sun was shining, a gentle breeze blowing and he had plenty of thinking to do before he continued that conversation with Phil. "What are you brewing today, then?"

"Colombian," Terry said. "Sit down, handsome. I'll go get you one. On me, for letting me keep the room."

Patrick took a seat at one of the outside tables while Terry went back inside, leaving his broom behind. His phone beeped in his pocket and he took it out to find a text message from Phil.

Can u come over 2nite @ 8?

Patrick grinned and sent back a Yes in short order. When Terry came back out, with a mug of coffee and a muffin, he asked, "What are you smirking about?"

"I'm..." What? Happy? Don't jump to conclusions. Don't jinx it. "I'm hopeful."

Index