Passing Time (6 page)

“Aren’t I under some kind of obligation to feed you?”

Jake lifted his shoulders, the skin fair and unblemished, the bones and the muscles lithe. “I think you fulfilled all your obligations last night. You were incredible.”

He spoke without a trace of insincerity Louis could detect. Still, at Jake’s age, all sex was incredible.

“I knew you’d be like that,” he said. “Right from the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“I mean, from when I first served you a double bourbon.” He colored. Perhaps he’d given away more than intended. “Heather and I were talking and—”

Heather again
. “I was a subject for discussion with the staff?”

“It wasn’t like that. It’s something we do with the customers.”

Louis arched an eyebrow. “Sleep with them?”

Jake’s blush intensified. “We imagine what they’d be like in bed. We rate them. Don’t take offense. It’s only a game.”

“What was my rating?”

“I gave you a nine.”

Teasing aside, Louis’s curiosity led him to ask, “How high does this scoreboard go?”

“Ten.”

Louis grabbed the bowl of congealed eggs, now cool and solid. He guided the lot into the waiting bin with the spoon.

“Now I can report back you’re a definite twelve.”

The bowl flipped over, bounced off the rim of the bin, and hit the floor, spewing cold egg over the tiles.

“Shit.” Louis squatted to scoop the rubbery globs up in his hands.

When he glanced up, Jake stood above him with the towel pooled around his feet.

“Oops.” Jake grinned. “Now how did that happen?”

How did what happen? The dropped towel or the raging erection?

“I have to go out.” Louis stood and backed away, his mouth suddenly tight and dry.

The smile faded from Jake’s face. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. I’m just due at the hospital.”

“Is this because of what happened in the shower?” Jake bent to collect his towel off the floor.

Louis frowned. “The shower?”

“I had a condom on, Louis,” Jake said, blushing furiously as he straightened and secured the rogue towel around his waist. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I…it wasn’t a case of not wanting you, Jake. I…I should go. My mother needs me.” Did he sound convincing? Or did Jake recognize it for the excuse it was? His lack of time had little to do with his mother, whom Louis was sure didn’t care if he was with her or not. No. This was more about getting away from Jake and more importantly the way Jake made him feel. How did Jake make him feel? Uncertain of himself for one. Nervous for another. He wished Jake didn’t have to be so damned
pleasant
about everything.

“Okay, well, how about I stick around and fix you something for lunch?” Jake’s smile clicked back into place. Louis didn’t see how he could possibly object without coming across as a complete miserable bastard and making himself feel even worse than he did already in the process. But that was exactly what he had to do, wasn’t it?

“Uh, I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” Louis moved toward the door, then looked down. He didn’t even have his shoes on.

“Dinner, then? I can pop out and get us something from the deli. I’m free all day, so I can hang around.”

Louis’s objection lodged in his throat, his tongue stiff and uncooperative.

“Do you have the door code?” Jake continued, taking permission as read. “And a spare key? I need to get back in as well as out.”

All he had to do was tell Jake he’d rather he leave. Even though it would mean sticking around and making sure he did, in fact, vacate the premises. The alternative was letting him stay. Jake didn’t seem the type to rob and run even if Louis had something worth stealing. He took comfort in the possibility of Jake losing interest and taking off before he returned.

“Uh, the code’s written on a card on the wall by the front door, and the…the spare key is on the hook beside it.”

“Great.” Jake grinned. “See you at lunch.”

Louis half suspected he might jog over and give him a kiss on the cheek. Fortunately, he busied himself beneath the counter instead, tidying up the dropped eggs. Louis retraced his steps to the bedroom for his shoes. He thought about running a toothbrush over his teeth, but he needed to get away from Jake Harvey and what had happened between them last night and almost happened again this morning. Back in the lounge, he grabbed the cigarette pack off the coffee table and headed to the hall for his jacket. Carter waited beyond, leaning casually against the corridor wall. Louis ignored him, but still Carter’s voice chuckled in his ear.

“If you asked, I’m sure he’d pack you a wholesome lunch in a nice little box.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cart.” Louis took out a cigarette as he walked. The last one in the pack.

“And now? Now I’m running out of things to say. Could you open your eyes or squeeze my fingers? At least let me know you’re in there somewhere, listening. C’mon, Mom. For me? For your son. Please?”

Louis tightened his grip on the breathing corpse’s thin gray hand. There was no sign of her wanting to fight the inevitable. The machines, the constant beeps and rhythmic clicks controlled the battle for her. If those machines were unplugged, she’d die, and perhaps for purely selfish reasons, Louis needed her to live. To wake up and listen. He needed her to listen to the words
I forgive you
and know she understood them. Equally, he wanted her forgiveness for choosing his father and New York rather than the single-parent alcoholic he’d spent much of his life learning to loathe.

Until that day came, Louis babbled. About anything and everything. The doctors told him there was every chance she sensed presence. He hoped so. The trouble was, he was fast running out of things to say.

“I met someone yesterday.” He wasn’t sure telling her about his latest one-night stand was one of his better ideas. He’d exhausted every other topic of conversation except Carter, but he feared he might break at the mere mention of his name. “I’ve known him awhile. He works in the pub you were once so fond of on the high street. Harvey’s. Used to be the Prince of Wales in your day. His father owns the place. Jake’s his name. Uh, the guy I met, I mean, not his father. Although his father’s probably nearer my age than I am to Jake’s.” He paused. How did he get onto this subject? Was he so lacking in conversation?

“The truth is I could use your company right about now. I think you’d understand a little of what I’ve been going through. You carried on loving dad after he left us. I know you loved him way more than you ever loved me.”

His mother’s eyes remained stiffly closed. Her waxen skin hung loose around her skull. Louis dropped her hand, stood up, and gulped the antiseptic-clogged air as he moved toward the window. He tried to nudge it open, but the handle wouldn’t shift. He swallowed hard on the acid tingling at the back of his throat and peered though the blinds at the car park far below, wishing himself down there or indeed anywhere other than here.

“How is she?” asked a soft voice from behind.

“You should know,” Louis said, keeping his attention on the window. “You’re closer to her than I am.”

“She’s not dead yet.”

“Might as well be.” Louis straightened and turned to face his lover. Carter peered at the bed. He looked wary, almost nervous. Perhaps the hospital brought back memories he’d rather forget. “This is all a waste of time. I thought I could make a difference. But I can’t.” His eyes stung with barely subdued tears. “To her, I might as well have died twenty years ago.”

Carter raised his gaze from the bed. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because she’s got no one else.”

“She doesn’t have you either. You’re here through duty, not love. You owe this woman nothing.” Carter reached out to smooth a crease from the blankets. “There’s nothing stopping you from going home and resuming your dreary little existence. Carry on as you are, and who knows? In a couple of years you’ll be able to join her. Or me.”

Louis glared at him. “What do you want me to do? Pretend like you never existed? Pretend like I actually care my heart still beats and my liver still functions without you?”

“No.” Carter seated himself in the recently vacated chair as though Louis’s rage counted for nothing. “What I want you to do is go back to your apartment across the river and take the man who’s waiting for you there back to bed.”

“Don’t you mean the airhead?”

The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched upward. “I like him. I think you like him too.”

“Sure I like him. But not enough to imagine a midday fuck will make all my problems magically disappear. Cart, I hate to disappoint, but seriously, Jake Harvey’s ass? Not that hot.”

“As I said, Jake Harvey is more than a fuck. Or could be. If you let him.”

Louis raked his hand through the hair he’d neglected to comb. “He was a few hours of fun. No, more like twenty minutes’ worth before he fell asleep on me. Forget him. With luck, he’ll be gone by the time I get back.”

“With luck, he won’t,” Carter said in a low voice. “At least admit you care for him.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“You’ve mentioned him to your mother. By name, if you please. That particular honor passed me right on by.”

“You know I wrote her a letter about us after we first met. And a few times more over the years. I even sent her a photo of us in Venice, remember? I heard nothing back. Might’ve been different if you were a woman.” He glanced toward his mother and wondered what she’d think of her queer son talking to thin air.

Carter stood and joined him at the window. “You can’t live another forty years like this,” he said softly. “It’s not what we agreed.”

“Maybe I’m not planning on hanging around that long,” Louis said, meeting Carter’s eyes just for a moment before looking away again.

“Louis—”

“Relax, honey. I’m not about to do myself in. If I had the nerve, I’d have done it long before now.”

“How nice to have the choice.” The sudden ice in Carter’s tone irked Louis even more than if he’d received the expected lecture.

This was too much. He raised his face. “You had a choice too, once. Only instead of fighting you retreated, leaving me wishing I’d come with you. So don’t lecture me. Okay? I am not the coward here.”

The room cooled to silence. Louis turned and pressed his forehead against the blinds. He bit his tongue, hard.

“I didn’t mean… I’m just”—he turned to apologize and found himself alone—“useless without you,” he whispered to the empty air.

It wasn’t until he was walking into the nearest pub he realized he’d neglected to say good-bye to his mother.

* * *

Later that evening a pleasantly anesthetized Louis arrived back at his apartment. He hung up his jacket and half stumbled into the lounge, surprised to find Jake curled up asleep on the couch. He’d changed his clothes at some point during the day, swapping the sapphire blue shirt and smart black trousers for a tight white T-shirt and even tighter jeans. The bottle of red wine, now empty, sat on the floor at his feet.

In the kitchen, Louis set about making coffee. Jake would probably need help sobering up before being sent on his way. He opened the fridge for milk. This wasn’t his refrigerator. Couldn’t be. It was full of green. Lettuce, peppers, broccoli, along with milk, eggs, some kind of prepackaged white meat, a prepared salad in a bowl, and a quiche on a dish with two slices missing. Jake had fetched him home a week’s worth of shopping. Why? Did he not look as though he were able to take care of himself?

He finished making the drinks while he gathered his thoughts and set the mugs on the coffee table before giving Jake’s shoulder a hearty shake.

Jake’s eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head, taking in his surroundings.

“I thought you might appreciate a coffee,” Louis said, gesturing to the mug.