Broken (22 page)

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my tone cautious as I make my way over to the balcony where James is stood.

Sighing, he rips his fingers through his dark hair. “I lost the magazine contract,” he spits. “All that fucking work. Gone.”

“James…” I trail off when I realise I don’t know what to say.

I put my hand on his shoulder, surprised when he flinches, but then he reaches up and clamps his fingers on mine. “I’ve lost so much fucking money. So much time and effort.”

“There’ll be other magazines,” I say, regretting it immediately when he pulls away from me.

“You don’t get it, Theodore! I’ve fucking failed! I had all these ideas, things that would make my father so fucking proud.”

“He
is
proud of you.” How could he not be?

“You didn’t even know him.”

Ouch.
“Don’t do that. Don’t push me away.”

My gaze falls to the floor while James stalks across the room, slamming his palms down on the kitchen counter. I’ve never seen him this angry and I don’t like it. Risking a glance in his direction, I watch as his restless fingers drum against the black granite. His jaw ticks, the vein in his neck throbs, and I walk tentatively closer to him.

I want to know how he’s feeling, but I can’t decide if I’m more afraid to ask, or of the answer he might give me. Will this send him on a downward spiral? Is this the result of him already being there?

“Stop looking at me like that,” James says, staring me square in the eyes.

“Like what?”
Concerned?

“Like you’re wondering if I’m having some kind of depressive episode. I’m allowed to be pissed off sometimes, Theodore, just like everyone else.”

“I know that. I’m sorry, I just…” Frustrated with myself, with
him
, with this whole fucking situation, I draw in a long breath. “This is new to me.”

Tipping his head back, James sighs. He steps towards me, settling his hands on my waist. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess we still have a lot to talk about.”

“And we will, but let’s eat first.” Pressing his lips to mine, he smiles against my mouth.

When he steps back, I reach for the bags on the counter. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a selection.”

“Is that chicken fried rice?” he asks when I pull out the first tub. I nod in response. “That’s mine.”

Grinning, I hand him the tub and, after grabbing two forks, he takes it over to the sofa. I follow him with the rest of the food and sit down next to him before peeling the lid off my crispy beef.

“I want you to meet my brother.”

My hand freezes, hovering the forkful of food just inches from my mouth.

“Besides
you
, Max is the person who knows me best. I think it would be beneficial for you to know each other.”

“You make it sound like a business meeting.”

“You’ll like him. He’s nothing like me.”

“I like you.”

“But you didn’t at first,” he says with a cheeky smile that makes my stomach flutter. “Max is a nice guy. He makes a better first impression than I do.”

“You don’t speak about your mum much.” I didn’t plan to say that, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark. Then, defiantly, I decide there shouldn’t be a mark. We’re a couple. We should share.

“She’s my mum, and I love her, but I’ve never found it easy to talk to her. I’ve always been afraid of her judging me, or thinking I’m weak.”

No parent could think that.
Could they?
“She knows you’re gay though, right?”

“Yes. She wasn’t exactly thrilled but she accepted it…eventually.”

“Eventually?” Of course I know some parents don’t take the news well, but I can only imagine how that feels. When I told
my
parents, my mum patted my shoulder and my dad told me not to forget the milk on my way home from school.

“She asked me why, told me how disappointed she was, and then asked me what she did wrong. Now? We just don’t talk about it.”

“How does that work? Have you never introduced her to one of your boyfriends before?”

“You’re my first.” His words tickle something deep inside my chest. “You know, when I was thirteen I made a friend online. The internet was new back then, we were the first out of my friends to get it, and I was so grateful to it because I got to say things I couldn’t say in person.”

“You mean in, like, a chat room?”

“Yes. There weren’t the same dangers associated with it then. I got chatting to another boy who also thought he was gay. We told each other everything. It was easier, I suppose, when you didn’t have to look each other in the eye. One day he told me his parents were starting to monitor his internet access, so we exchanged addresses. I wrote to him a few times but never received a reply. Or so I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“I discovered years later, from my father, that my mum opened them and threw them away before I could read them.”

“
Why?
”

“Because she didn’t want me to be gay.”

What kind of stupid reasoning is that? Clearly, her tactics didn’t work. “So what happened when you found out?”

“I laughed it off. Inside, even though I was an adult, it kind of hurt to know she’d taken my only friend, my only confidant, away from me. But she stood by her actions, so, like I always do, I brushed it off.”

It makes no sense to me. James doesn’t strike me as a man who yields to anyone. He never has. He doesn’t suffer fools and he’s most certainly not afraid to speak his mind, especially if he’s right.

“She’s my mum,” he adds, shrugging, as if that’s a reasonable explanation.

I don’t like her already. “Maybe, but that was wrong of her.”

As was the fact she left a suicidal teenage boy to vomit his attempt at ending his life into the toilet alone.

“This is cold,” I mutter around my first mouthful of crispy beef. I’ve been too busy talking to eat. Putting it on the coffee table in front of me, I pop the lid back on.

“I can put it in the microwave,” James offers, reaching for the plastic tub.

I raise my hand. “I’m not that hungry anymore. I’ll eat it tomorrow.”

“Fancy a shower before bed?”

“Together?”

Grinning, James stands and takes my hand. His answer glistens in his eyes as he winks and pulls me toward the bathroom.

I’ve been hard since I heard the word shower.

~James~

Two months later…

Peeling
my eyes open, my head on Theodore’s chest, I find his arms wrapped around me and snuggle further into them.

“You awake?” he whispers, running his thumb up and down my colourful arm.

“Mmhmm.”

Over the last couple of months, Theodore has spent most nights at my apartment, or house, but last night I stayed at his place. It’s Sunday, and he’s taking me to meet his family this afternoon. The thought leaves me with a heavy stomach, but apparently he can’t put his mother off much longer. She wants to meet me.
Me
.

I’m sure her mind will soon change once she has.

“Coffee?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.

“In a minute. I’m comfortable.”

A small sigh escapes his mouth. “I need the toilet,” he says, prizing himself out from underneath me. “And if I don’t wake Tess now we’ll be late.”

“Right. Your mum’s.”

“She’ll love you.” It’s not until Theodore replies I realise I spoke my thoughts aloud.

“You don’t know that. I’m not a likeable man, Theodore.”

“She’ll love you because
I
love you.”

I still haven’t uttered those three tiny words to him yet. I feel it, I think, but I can’t quite bring myself to say it. If I do, it almost feels like I’m giving him false hope.

“Talk to her like you do to
me
rather than the way you treat everyone else, and you’ll be fine.” He finishes the sentence with a wink that does little to reassure me. “I was just as nervous when I met Max for the first time.”

I can appreciate that. When he met my brother, two months ago, it was more than an introduction. They were meeting as the only two people who know about my mental illness, and I know they discussed me when I headed out to pick up a takeaway.

“That was different. There’s no way anybody couldn’t like you.”

“That’s not the impression I got, not straightaway.”

“What are you talking about?” Max likes Theodore. He told me.

“Before he left, he pulled me to one side and told me that if I didn’t think I could handle your worst, I should walk away.”

Fucker! I’ll be having words with him
. “And? Do you think you could?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. I don’t know how much he truly believes that, and I hope he never has to test his theory. But…some days, lately, I feel like that day is coming. “Now get up.” He looks down at his watch. “My mum will already have the meat in the oven.”

“I just don’t want to mess it up,” I add. “They’re important to you.”

“And
you’re
important to
me
. I can’t offer you any more reassurance because I
really
need to piss…” After blowing me a kiss, he’s gone before I can reply.

Climbing out of Theodore’s bed, I groan from the ache in my muscles. He owns the most uncomfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on and I decide I’m going to replace it. He doesn’t accept things from me without protest but, this time, I have the perfect incentive. If he wants me to stay over again, he’ll let me buy him a new bed.

Shrugging into one of his t-shirts, I wander into the main living space. Tess is awake, but still curled up on the mattress on the floor next to the TV.

“Coffee?” I ask her.

Nodding her head, she stretches her arms above her head. “Sleep well?”

“No.”

She laughs, and I know further explanation isn’t needed. “You nervous?”

I force a flippant laugh. ”No.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“
Everyone
gets nervous about meeting the parents. Unless you have a heart of steel, which for a while there I thought you did, but now I know better.”

“Oh, you do, eh?”

“I saw the tear in your eye when we watched The Fault in Our Stars.”

Reaching for the coffee in the cupboard, I shake my head. “There was no tear.”

“There was a tear.”

“What tear?”

Glancing up from the empty mugs, I see Theodore coming towards me. Snaking his arms around my waist, he moulds himself to my back, resting his head on my shoulder. Tess is right. My heart can’t be made of steel because it started racing the second I heard Theodore’s voice.

“Tess thinks she saw a tear on my face when we watched The Fault in Our Stars.”

“Oh, there
was
a tear.”

“Whose side are you on?” I say, shrugging out of his hold to grab the kettle.

“The side of the truth. Also, I’m not brave enough to disagree with Tess, especially when I want her to iron my top while I’m in the shower.”

Holding his hands in the praying position, he looks to Tess with puppy-eyes. “Before you object, remember I’m leaving the flat for you and Lucy tonight.”

Tess huffs. “Fine. Your favourite one?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a favourite top?” I ask, handing him a cup of coffee.

“My Diesel one with the white stitching.” I don’t know which top he’s referring to but it makes me smile nonetheless. It’s only a small thing, but I love the fact we’re still learning about each other.

When Theodore disappears into the bathroom with his mug, I join Tess in the living room and watch her iron Theodore’s t-shirt on top of a towel on the living room floor. We talk about Lucy for a few minutes, who I’ve only met a couple of times, then she steers the conversation onto Theodore’s mother, causing the nerves to flood back into my stomach.

**********

The smell of lamb arouses my nose when Theodore leads me into his mother’s house. It’s a small terrace and the front door opens up straight into the living room. A man stands from the couch to greet us, and although we haven’t met before, I know it’s Tom, Theodore’s brother. They’re shockingly similar, even the way they walk, but when Tom shakes my hand I notice his eyes are a different colour.

“Tom, James. James, Tom,” Theodore introduces us and I offer a small nod as Tom releases my hand. It’s a little discomforting knowing this man, this stranger, knows
all
about me, things my own family have no idea about. Still, I’m glad Theodore has someone knowledgeable to discuss my illness with when he doesn’t feel like he can talk to me.

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“Likewise.” Tom’s gaze flips to his brother. “Mum’s doing the gravy. Go in at your own risk.”

“I’m not that stupid. I’ll wait for her to come out here.”

“Where’s Tess?”

“She’s making her own way. She should be here soon.”

I hover awkwardly, with my hands in my pockets, while Theodore and Tom chat about their week, and Tom’s new shoes. After several minutes, Tom turns to me and asks about Holden House. He’s making polite conversation, but it isn’t something I particularly want to discuss, so I’m relieved when we’re interrupted by a woman too young to be their mother.

“I’ve been banished,” she says before kissing Tom on the cheek. This must be Jennifer, Tom’s girlfriend. “Hi!” she adds, her voice chirpy, looking at Theodore and I.

“This is James,” Tom says. “Theo’s boyfriend.”

She offers her hand for me to shake. “I’m Jennifer.”

“Jennifer!” the lady who I assume is Theodore’s mother scolds, wiping her hands on her apron. She doesn’t look like Theodore, so I assume he and Tom take after their father. “I told you and that little grandbaby of mine to sit down. You need to take care of yourself.”

Jennifer smiles and rolls her eyes at the same time, before perching herself on the edge of the floral armchair. I’m finding all these unfamiliar faces a little overwhelming. I meet new people every day in my job, but this is different. This is informal and requires idle, friendly chitchat, which unfortunately has never been my forte. In business, I’m direct and authoritative. I’m not there to be liked. I’m there to be listened to. I say what needs to be said and nothing more. Talking in a social setting, however, necessitates a whole different skillset, which I don’t possess.

“Mum, this is James,” Theodore says.

Dropping the cushion she’s fluffing behind Jennifer’s back, Mrs Davenport spins immediately as if she didn’t know we’d arrived. “Oh!” she sings, lunging towards me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she kisses my cheek. “You’re a smoker.”

My smile falters as she steps away. “Yes,” I reply, forcing the word through my suddenly narrowed throat.

“Did Theo tell you his grandma died of lung cancer?”

“Um,
yes
. He did.”

The way she stares into my eyes makes me feel twelve years old again. “Hmm.”

Great. She disapproves of me already.

“Go easy, Mum,” Theodore says. The bastard is grinning.

“They’ll be nothing easy about sitting on the edge of his deathbed.” Theodore opens his mouth to respond, but Mrs Davenport carries on talking. “Now sit down in the dining room. I’m going to plate up.”

Tom and Jennifer follow her out of the room and I turn to Theodore, combing my nervous fingers through my hair. “She hates me.”

Theodore laughs, and for a second, I
really
dislike him. “She doesn’t. She’s just one of those really annoying reformed smokers. Just be yourself, and she’ll fall in love with you.”

My eyebrow lifts of its own accord.

“Okay, maybe not
completely
yourself,” he teases. “Leave the arrogant arsehole version of you at the door.”

I’d laugh if I wasn’t so nervous. It’s a strange feeling. I’m used to being the voice of authority, dismissing other people’s opinions. I find situations like this awkward. It’s one of the reasons I rarely visit my
own
family.

“Relax, James,” Theodore says, squeezing my tense shoulder as he leads me into the dining room.

Taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs, I scan the floral wallpaper rather than make eye-contact with anyone. For a while, Theodore and Tom chatter amongst themselves, while I simply listen, admiring the
easy
relationship these brothers seem to have.

Tess arrives just as Mrs Davenport is bringing out our meals, bursting into the house shouting, “Sorry I’m late!” while wrestling out of her coat. Sitting opposite Theodore, she takes a plate from Mrs Davenport. “Ooo, beef! You’re spoiling us, Angela.”

“It’s lamb,” Mrs Davenport corrects.

“Well, whatever it is smells chuffing amazing.”

Much to my surprise, I start to relax while we’re eating. Conversation centres around Jennifer and the baby scan she had last week, and then it moves to Tess, who lies about where she’s been. She was with Lucy, yet she tells Mrs Davenport she had to nip into work to discuss an error on her wage slip.

Naturally, being fresh meat at the table, questions eventually turn to me and I answer as politely as I can. I’m unintentionally vague, and I find myself dancing around personal questions and directing the attention towards Theodore.

“Any plans for your birthday, Theo?” Tom asks, making my ears prick up.

It’s his birthday soon?
I realise it’s something we’ve never talked about and it makes me feel like a shitty boyfriend.

“It’s four months away. I haven’t thought about it.”

“Twenty-eight,” Mrs Davenport cuts in. “How did my babies get so old so fast?”

Turning my head, I notice Theodore grinning and shaking his head.
Game over.
His mother just revealed his age. I’m still waiting for him to tell me himself, but what he doesn’t know is that Tess already told me weeks ago.

Mrs Davenport’s intense stare, which continues to unnerve me, lands on my face. “Maybe you could surprise him with a ring, James?” Her statement comes out like a question, knocking the air from my lungs, and I start to wonder if this is what anaphylactic shock feels like.

“
Mum
,” Theodore says, his tone low, scolding.

“Have you thought about settling down?” she continues, still looking at me. “What are your plans for the future?”

“Tess has got a girlfriend!” Theodore pipes up, and I want to kiss him until I can’t feel my lips.

The scuffle under the table when Tess very obviously kicks Theodore’s leg makes everyone, except Mrs Davenport, snicker.

“Ooo, what’s her name? When are you bringing her for dinner?”

There’s a look in Tess’ eyes that makes me think she’s plotting Theodore’s murder as she speaks, but still, she goes on to tell Mrs Davenport all about Lucy – what she looks like, the dates they’ve been on.

I listen for a while, but then my mind reverts to her comment about settling down. Suddenly, it’s all I can think about. I haven’t given much thought to my future with Theodore, my future in general. Life is easier to deal with when you take one day at a time. But what if that isn’t the way Theodore copes with life? Has
he
thought about settling down? Marriage? Is that what he wants? Is that what he expects from
me
? If it is, I’m just not sure I can give it to him.